Free Into the Spotlight by Heather Long Page B

content with just letting her play, he shifted and captured her legs, pulling her around until her thighs straddled his face. He smiled at the gleaming pink skin, damp and glistening. The earlier image of stabbing his tongue into her sex surged through him and the moment her lips touched the rim of his cock he indulged himself.
    Long, slow penetrating strokes of his tongue, swirling from her slit to her entrance and back. A low moan vibrated from her throat and resonated through his cock. Her mouth seemed to throb around him, pulling, sucking and demanding.
    Somewhere, deep in his soul echoed the oath that he would never stop wanting this. Wanting her. Her hips arched, her legs spreading obediently and he locked his lips around her clit, sucking the moist bead until her screams threw off the delicious rhythm of her mouth on his dick. He teased a finger against her entrance and pushed. Her sex, so sensitive, grasped at him greedily and then thought vanished for all he could do was hold on as the little gasping explosions of her breath brought him to the edge. He drummed his tongue against her clit and then it was his turn to groan as she pulled his orgasm from him, draining him in hot sheets of pleasure.
     
     
    Malcolm braced a hand against the tiled wall of the shower, hot water sluicing over his body. His muscles ached, shivering with the aftershocks of satisfaction. Strength surged through his veins, his heart pulsing with vitality. The water thudded against his skin. The spicy scent of the soap tickled his nose. The light glistened in the humid haze of the hot shower. Vigor infused his senses. Her blood filled him. Her passion brought him to life.
    Malcolm closed his eyes, summoning the image of Jeannie, splayed out on the midnight blue of his bed sheets, her body flushed from the pleasure he had given her.
    His cock jerked, and he rinsed the soap away hurriedly, eager to rejoin her.
    The clicking of the daytime shutters echoed through the hotel suite as Malcolm turned the water off. The sun rose in the desert beyond the Arcana Royale, flooding the arid landscape with its deadly rays. He would not be leaving the casino today.
    His heart trembled with what tasted suspiciously of delight. His impatience with the task that brought him to the casino was drowned out utterly in his discovery of Jeannie. Toweling off, he strode out of the bathroom, eager to end the few-minute separation.
    “Jeannie, darling. Shall I order us some food?” He pitched his voice low, not wanting to disturb her if she had finally found sleep, but aching nonetheless for her to turn those dewy green eyes upon him once more, to see her lips spread in a simple smile or to hear the sigh of his name on her lips.
    I’m done. Gone. Lost. Hopeless for her.
    Not in five centuries had he ever craved a woman so. Not in five centuries had he gorged himself on pleasure and hungered for more. Not in five centuries had he wanted like this.
    He paused at the edge of the bed, the shadows of the room— their room — snuggled around her, as though guarding the pale luminescence lest it be snuffed out. She was on her side, the pale curve of her shoulders to him. The dark blue of the sheet draped over her hips, leaving her chest invitingly bare.
    Malcolm drank in the sight of her. The line of her back dipped toward her tight, rounded bottom. Just above her bottom was a small circular tattoo. This one formed of sinuous lines, twining in on each other to form a triangle within a circle within a star.
    “Darling?” Malcolm gave into temptation, trailing a finger down the line of her bare—cold—arm. Her chest didn’t move. Her heart was silent.
    Apprehension clenched his chest.
    “Jeannie?” Malcolm closed his hand on her shoulder and turned her. Horror shanked him.
    Wide green eyes stared at him from a frozen, porcelain face. The features were Jeannie’s, but they were still, as though paused. The flush of her skin faded. The golden warmth evaporated. The