Free Charley Davidson 01Bis For I Have Sinned by Darynda Jones

the mirror.
    Reyes Alexander Farrow—the part-human, part-supermodel son of Satan—materialized behind me, his powerful shoulders glistening as steam rose around him, giving the impression he’d just come from hell. He hadn’t, of course. He’d escaped from hell centuries ago and was currently pissed as hell at me for binding his incorporeal body to his physical one. But that knowledge did little to lessen the effect.
    I blinked to see him more clearly. “What are you doing here?”
    He lowered his head, his dark eyes piercing me with an angry glare. The butthead. It was my bathroom.
    But I’d bound him. I’d bound his incorporeal body to his physical one. How was he even there? How could he be?
    “You summoned me,” he said, his deep voice tight with animosity.
    I shook my head. “That’s impossible.”
    He reached an arm over my shoulder and braced his hand against the wall in front of me. To tower. To dominate. To make sure I knew I was trapped. His lean body pressed against my backside as he braced the other hand against the wall to my right, completely imprisoning me.
    His hard gaze locked onto mine. “Is it impossible because you bound me like a dog to a chain?”
    Oh, yeah. He was definitely pissed. “You left me no choice,” I said, my voice quivering, not nearly as confident as I’d hoped.
    He lowered his head until his mouth was at my ear. “And you leave me none.” His features darkened. His eyes narrowed as he stared at me in the mirror from underneath his thick lashes, hooded with passion.
    I couldn’t tear my gaze away. He was so beautiful, so masculine. When he wrapped an arm around me, slid his hand down the front of my panties, I grabbed his wrist. “Wait,” I said between ragged breaths. “I still don’t understand how you’re here.”
    “I told you, you summoned me.” His fingers worked their way between my legs despite my best efforts, and I gasped aloud when they dipped inside. “You always summon me. You’ve always had the power to call me whenever you want or need me, Dutch. Or haven’t you figured that out yet?”
    I fought the delicious sensations spiking in my abdomen with each stroke of his fingers. Fought to grasp the meaning of his airy words. “No, you’ve always come to me when I needed you. When I was in danger.” And he had. Growing up, he’d always been there any time my life was threatened.
    His breath fanned across my cheek, the heat emanating off him scorching as his mouth sought the pulse point at my throat. “It’s always been you.”
    He was wrong. He had to be. The idea that I could summon him, that I’d always summoned him, was unfathomable. I didn’t even know what he was until very recently. I was afraid of him, in fact. He was a dark being made of smoke and shadows, and the last thing I wanted was to be in his presence. How could I have summoned him? What he proposed was impossible.
    “But as long as I’m here….” He let that statement linger as he locked me against him and pushed down my bottoms and underwear in one smooth movement. Then he let the slightest grin lift one corner of his beautiful mouth, nudged my legs apart, and entered me in one long thrust. I gasped aloud, and the swirling that had begun only moments before grew to hurricane strength in an instant. I clamped one hand around his wrist at my throat, the other onto his steely buttocks, pulling him deeper, clawing for release.
    I kept my eyes open, watching him in the mirror, studying his reaction. The slight parting of his lips. The furrowing of his brow. The fall of his lashes.
    “Dutch,” he said in his smooth, deep voice, as though helpless against what he was about to do. His jaw locked together as his climax neared. He lifted one of my legs onto the vanity and pushed into me, burying himself over and over, the act almost violent, coaxing me with each thrust, with each powerful stroke.
    And with each stroke, the current inside me surged with more potency, his erection