“Nothing in that one,” I said, slamming shut the dusty tome and added it to one of the piles stacked haphazardly around the table.
“You should be more careful with those books. They are more than two hundred years old. Great care has been taken to preserve them,” Ian said in that annoyingly superior tone of his.
I shot him a dirty look, which he missed because he was busy making notes. “What have you found so far?”
He scribbled a couple of more words, and then looked up. “Not much. Most of the references to Voodoo I found were fictional, even those that were supposedly factual. The people of the last century before the Cataclysm had vivid imaginations and little regard for scientific fact. The theories 20th and 21st century norms had about magic and paranormal beings amazes me. Most of the pre-Cataclysm magical books I’ve studied were council-approved texts that were not for the mainstream norm public. I find these very interesting. I will have to do more research into the fiction and myths of the pre-Cataclysm age.”
I rolled my eyes. “Okay, Professor, wipe off the drool. I’m sure it is all very interesting and you can spend countless hours with it later. Right now, fiction doesn’t really do us a lot of good.”
Ian leveled his penetrating gaze on me. “That is not entirely accurate. In the 20th and 21st centuries, and for centuries before that, the mainstream norm society held all magical and paranormal phenomena to be myth and fiction. In the 16th century, the Paranorm Council created official channels for sharing information among the paranorm community. However, books and information did leak out. That information was treated as fiction by society as a whole. So, if you know what you are looking for, you can find facts among the early fiction.”
“Ugh!” I let my head fall to the table with a thud. A sharp pain shot through my forehead, yet it was less painful than listening to Ian prattle on about ancient history. “Please spare me the history lesson. We’ve been at this for hours, I’m bored, my eyes are crossed from so much reading, and I’m starving. Did you find anything we can use?”
Apparently unconcerned by my outburst, Ian continued, “Not yet, or at least I don’t think so. We should probably combine notes, see what we have so far, and try to figure out where to go from here.”
Lifting my head, I shoved my notebook towards him, and then stood. “Can we get some food first? And fresh air? The smell of old books and dust is starting to get to me.”
“I thought you spent a lot of time here at the library when you were a kid,” Ian said.
“I did, and I didn’t care for the dusty books then either. Carly usually let me take my books out into the enclosed garden to do my school work.”
“That must have been nice. When I was growing up, books were not allowed out of the library rooms of the compound, much less outside into the open air,” Ian said.
“Then you probably know how I feel right now. I need air and food. Aren’t you hungry? The only things we have eaten today were those fritters at the market. We came straight here after talking to Miss Leona and that was more than six hours ago,” I whined, not caring a bit that I sounded like a petulant child.
Ian looked up at me, a wicked gleam in his eyes. “I scryed Mrs. Gary about an hour ago when you went to look for more books. There will be a pot of her venison stew waiting when we get back to my place. No fussing tonight, as I told her to leave the pot on the warmer and go on and relax, but her stew is delicious. Join me?”
It was a good thing I was sitting down because my knees went to jelly as I realized venison stew was not all that would be on the menu if I went back with him. I didn’t hesitate for a second, though I told myself it was because my mouth was watering for that stew. “What are we waiting for then? Leave the books; we’ll put them back tomorrow. Let’s go get me some food!”
***
As I suspected, and secretly hoped, food wasn’t the only thing on the agenda. It wasn’t even the first thing on the agenda. The entire ride back to his apartment in the rickshaw, I was trying to decide how to make my move. Should I be subtle or just crawl in the middle of his bed, naked, like I did last night? Turned out that I didn’t have to make a move at all.
The moment we entered his apartment, Ian grabbed me and pulled me to him, pushing me against the door as it closed. We melded together in a flurry of hot mouths and hands. I went from a little hot and bothered to full-on, fuck-me-now lust mode in about five seconds. I could feel the length of him hard against my thigh. As I pressed against it, I was rewarded with a moan. “Fiona, damn, I want you right this second.”
Heat soared through me. “You have me, take me,” I urged.
He unbuttoned my pants and started sliding them down. I thought he was going to do just that. My vision went a little blurry at the prospect of up-against-the-wall sex with Ian.
But after they were just a little way down my hips, he stopped tugging on my pants. I was disappointed until one hand slid down between my legs. Automatically spreading them, I gave him better access as one long finger slipped inside of me. “Oh. Oh, Ian,” I gasped as he positioned his hand so that his thumb rested against the throbbing nub of my clit, and he slowly began to move his finger in and out.
My body thrummed and my hands shook as I fumbled with the buttons on his pants. I wanted, no needed, to touch him, to return some of the pleasure he was giving me. I finally got the buttons apart and his pants down enough that he sprang free, half erect. Immediately wrapping my hand around him, I savored the way it began to lengthen and harden at my touch. I began to slowly stroke him, matching the rhythm of his hand between my legs. But, then, he inserted a second finger and though I still grasped him, I lost all ability to do anything with it.
My entire world was focused—the pleasure starting between my thighs and pushing out in shards of flame through my entire body. I shamelessly rode his hand until the tiny shards converged into ball of fire that consumed me. My orgasm broke over me in a white-hot wave. My body went limp and if it hadn’t been for Ian’s hand, I would have slid down the wall. I rested my forehead against his shoulder, trying to catch my breath.
As I slowly came back to myself, I realized I still held him in my hand, and he remained hard as granite. I began to move my hand, wanting to bring him to his knees like he had done to me. But he gently took my hand away. “Let’s go to the bed,” he gruffly said.
I followed him to the bed, and we quickly divested ourselves of our clothes. But instead of pulling me to him, Ian said in a soft, but firm voice, “I want you on the bed like last night, but with your legs spread, waiting for me.”
Tiny shivers of anticipation raced through me. This was a different side of Ian, and I liked it. I did as he ordered. With my legs spread, I felt exposed and nervous, but so turned on, I thought I’d vibrate right off the bed.
Ian crawled on the bed. Starting at my ankle, he dropped light kisses all the way up my leg, past my knee, across my thigh, and stopped at the apex of my thighs. He rose up so that he hovered over me, on his knees between my parted legs. “I want to watch you as you come,” he said, gripping my hips and pulling them up so that my bottom was several inches off the bed. He placed himself at my entrance and then plunged inside. I gasped and bucked against him. Once he was seated deep inside, he moved his arms so that he was gripping my hips with my legs over his arms. “Put your legs on my shoulders.”
It took a minute for his words to penetrate my pleasure-fogged brain, but when they did, I complied. I wanted to say something, but I was too busy moaning as every movement shifted him inside me and brought a new round of bliss. Once he had me the way he wanted, he started moving. The pace he set was immediately fast and deep. I cried out a string of intelligible words as he took the heel of one hand and placed it firmly against the top of my mound. With each thrust, his hand pushed against my sensitive nub and sent spasms of liquid heat rushing through my body.
“Cup your breasts,” he told me. “Play with them.”
Oh. Oh. Wow, this was so different from any
thing I’d ever expected from Ian, and I loved it.
I did as he said, and loved the way his face flushed as he watched. He was so beautiful and brain-meltingly sexy over me like that. His muscles were tight and tense beneath his skin. His skin was slick, and I ached to reach out and touch him, but I kept my hands where he’d told me to put them.
“Pinch your nipples.” His command came out in a gruff whisper. He was close to the edge of his breaking point, I knew. I wanted to send him over, but in the position we were in, all I could do was take the pleasure he gave, and not give any myself.
So, I did as I was told, and twin spikes of electricity jolted through me from my nipples down to the center of my pleasure between my thighs. Everything exploded, white sparks falling around me. I threw my head back and screamed as I bucked against Ian, my inner muscles clenching around him as my orgasm rocked me. From somewhere far off, I heard Ian let out a guttural roar as he shoved into me, his own body shaking. Then he fell forward and to the side, rolling and taking me with him, keeping our bodies joined.
We were both gasping for breath and shuddering.
“That. That was… Wow,” I said.
“I know. Wow.”
“Really wow.”
“Yes. I don’t…wow,” he said, pulling me tighter.
And at that point, I decided to shut up because my brain was so muddled that if I kept talking, the next thing that came out of my mouth would be a confession telling him that had been the best orgasm of my life. True or not, it wasn’t something he needed to know, not yet.