Free Fifth Grave Past the Light by Darynda Jones

god,” I said with a shiver.
    “Stay here,” he said, all business. “I have this covered.”
    “This is freezing,” I cried, but he was gone.
    Then I heard him rummaging around in his kitchen. I covered Danger and Will in an attempt to preserve their dignity. Also, it seemed like the right thing to do.
    He walked out with a variety of sparkling new kitchen utensils. A whisk, a spoon, a spatula, and several other ominous-looking devices for which I had no name. He dumped them on the table beside me.
    “And just what are you planning to do with those?”
    “I’m going to give you an exam. Make sure everything is okay down there.”
    I kicked at him. “No, you aren’t.”
    When I tried to rise, he pushed me back down with a hand on my chest. “Trust me. I took a correspondence class.”
    “From prison?” I asked, shocked.
    “And I have a lot of experience in this area.”
    “You’ve been in lockdown for ten years. How much experience can you have?”
    When I kicked out again, he took my ankle and placed my foot back on the table as he sought out the perfect tool for whatever dark machinations he had in mind. He picked something up. It was silver and shiny and foreboding. “I’m going to have to plug this one in.”
    “No!” I said, suddenly laughing so hard, my stomach hurt.
    Holding my ankle with one hand, he tossed that appliance aside and picked up something else, keeping it low, hidden from my sight. Then he turned to me, growing even more serious. “You have to trust me.” He leaned closer, watched me from underneath his lashes. “No flinching,” he said, a soft warning reverberating in his tone. “This is a flinchless game of concentration and control.”
    “Reyes, you are not —!” I gasped aloud as something smooth and cool settled between my legs. I anchored a foot against his shoulder as insurance against whatever he was planning.
    He nudged the utensil just inside, causing a sharp current to spike within me, then he knelt and feathered his tongue across the sensitive folds at my apex. A delicious warmth stirred with each touch, with every nudge, pooling deep in my abdomen, building and pulsating immediately.
    He hadn’t been lying. He clearly had experience. He knew exactly how much pressure to apply, when to go deeper, how long to stay there. I writhed under his expert touch, grabbed handfuls of hair, begged for release. He spread my legs farther apart with his shoulders, sucked softly as I became engulfed in liquid fire. I expected him to enter me, to take over, to pleasure himself as well, but he didn’t. He lured me closer to the edge. Red hot embers spread through me once more, searing my flesh from the inside out. And then the tendrils that wound through me exited my body and entered his. I felt it the minute his pleasure met mine. I heard a soft gasp. Felt a cool rush of air as he breathed in.
    He removed his toy and replaced it with his fingers. Just as I could feel his reactions, he could feel mine. He was riding the same wave I was. Absorbing the same blistering heat, the same energy. The contact of our essences caused a friction, a biting arousal as he churned and whipped me into a frenzy until the sweet sting of orgasm rocketed through me. I welded my teeth together, braced myself as the rush crashed against me and drowned every cell in my body in warm honey.
    With a moan, Reyes reached underneath to finish what our connection had started. I grabbed hold of his hair and brought his mouth to mine, and with a soft groan, he wrapped his free arm around me, locking me to him as he spilled his seed onto my stomach. He trembled with the force of his climax, his breathing labored, his muscles like marble until slowly he relaxed against me.
    “That was amazing,” I said at last.
    He nodded. “Told you. Correspondence course.”
    I laughed as he helped me off the table and led me to the bathroom. We visited George, chatted about everyday things like wine, cars, and the horrid taste