and pretended it was him doing this to her. The scent of him filling her nostrils drove extra power into her strokes.
Her skin began to prickle with perspiration. Would he glisten with sweat as he moved over her, kissing her body? Would his lips tease like feathers or glide along her skin like silk? Or would he use teeth…
Her sex clenched under her fingers. She rubbed harder, slipping in her own arousal.
When he finally entered her, would he slide in like grease because she was dripping wet? Or would he be almost too big for her and stretch her?
She gasped as the first ripples of orgasm hinted at what was coming. Huge, dark, shockingly strong. Much like Gabriel himself.
Would his muscles sheen as he pumped into her? Her hips bumped in rhythm with her hand then started jerking beyond her control. Her breath, sawing in and out, heated and cooled her wet mouth. She tweaked one nipple, imagining it was his hot mouth closing on it with nips that pinched.
Orgasm rolled over her, opening every pore in her body. She was coming now.
Would he shout as he climaxed into her? Would he roar her name?
Emma.
She almost heard it for real, a moan of purest anguished desire.
Arching hard, she came, industrial contractions and an explosion of light and pleasure. Smelling him, she vibrated her whole hand, reinforcing the contractions, extending them out into a gorgeous sunset of sensation.
Gradually she came to herself, heart thudding. Clean, refreshed. Happy.
Would he hold her tenderly after?
She pretended he would. With a sigh, she curled up, and went to sleep.
Chapter Six
Gabriel braced himself against the stateroom bulkhead and tried to control his shaking need to bury himself between Emma’s sleek, wet thighs.
Death, he reminded himself. Crispy fried with a side of decapitation.
He’d been invisible, watching her. He hadn’t meant to. Really, he’d offered her the cabin because she needed it, and because he thought he could go slum with his familiar after he gave her the key.
But when he got to Pan’s stateroom there was a metaphysical sock on the door.
He’d returned to the general cabin to find Emma but got sidetracked helping the mother with her baby. By the time he finished, Emma had disappeared, so he returned to his cabin, intending only to stay a mere moment to gather his thoughts, using a talisman to magically open the lock—because after that teleport, he was fried. Even a single-body teleportation was a horrendous power suck, and he’d done two bodies and the whole snap-crackle-damned car.
Before he could decide what to do, he’d heard the scrape of key.
He really didn’t want to have to explain to Emma how he got into a locked stateroom without a key—did not want to have to admit he was a witch. Shifters knew about witches, but they didn’t like them very much.
Emma liked him, and he’d rather keep it that way.
Fortunately as a battle mage, he had a belt full of talismans ready to go, the witch equivalent of Batman’s utility belt. He touched the invisibility talisman, thinking he’d slip out with no one the wiser. It had the side effect of switching off his scent-hiding charm, but as he’d be gone in a second, that wouldn’t be a problem.
She came in looking frazzled, and he knew he’d done the right thing, giving her the stateroom. He sidled toward the exit…then scuttled away when she stalked toward him on her way to the sink.
Whew, that was close. He waited until she was busy scrubbing her hair to tiptoe toward the door. He touched the handle…
She was staring right at him. The hairs on his nape rose and his hand froze. He didn’t want to do a Scooby ghost opening the door, which would raise even more questions in her very sharp mind.
So he waited, but she was never not looking at the damned door. He couldn’t leave without alerting her, and then she got naked and he couldn’t leave because his damned legs wouldn’t work.
When she started rubbing herself and making those
Her skin began to prickle with perspiration. Would he glisten with sweat as he moved over her, kissing her body? Would his lips tease like feathers or glide along her skin like silk? Or would he use teeth…
Her sex clenched under her fingers. She rubbed harder, slipping in her own arousal.
When he finally entered her, would he slide in like grease because she was dripping wet? Or would he be almost too big for her and stretch her?
She gasped as the first ripples of orgasm hinted at what was coming. Huge, dark, shockingly strong. Much like Gabriel himself.
Would his muscles sheen as he pumped into her? Her hips bumped in rhythm with her hand then started jerking beyond her control. Her breath, sawing in and out, heated and cooled her wet mouth. She tweaked one nipple, imagining it was his hot mouth closing on it with nips that pinched.
Orgasm rolled over her, opening every pore in her body. She was coming now.
Would he shout as he climaxed into her? Would he roar her name?
Emma.
She almost heard it for real, a moan of purest anguished desire.
Arching hard, she came, industrial contractions and an explosion of light and pleasure. Smelling him, she vibrated her whole hand, reinforcing the contractions, extending them out into a gorgeous sunset of sensation.
Gradually she came to herself, heart thudding. Clean, refreshed. Happy.
Would he hold her tenderly after?
She pretended he would. With a sigh, she curled up, and went to sleep.
Chapter Six
Gabriel braced himself against the stateroom bulkhead and tried to control his shaking need to bury himself between Emma’s sleek, wet thighs.
Death, he reminded himself. Crispy fried with a side of decapitation.
He’d been invisible, watching her. He hadn’t meant to. Really, he’d offered her the cabin because she needed it, and because he thought he could go slum with his familiar after he gave her the key.
But when he got to Pan’s stateroom there was a metaphysical sock on the door.
He’d returned to the general cabin to find Emma but got sidetracked helping the mother with her baby. By the time he finished, Emma had disappeared, so he returned to his cabin, intending only to stay a mere moment to gather his thoughts, using a talisman to magically open the lock—because after that teleport, he was fried. Even a single-body teleportation was a horrendous power suck, and he’d done two bodies and the whole snap-crackle-damned car.
Before he could decide what to do, he’d heard the scrape of key.
He really didn’t want to have to explain to Emma how he got into a locked stateroom without a key—did not want to have to admit he was a witch. Shifters knew about witches, but they didn’t like them very much.
Emma liked him, and he’d rather keep it that way.
Fortunately as a battle mage, he had a belt full of talismans ready to go, the witch equivalent of Batman’s utility belt. He touched the invisibility talisman, thinking he’d slip out with no one the wiser. It had the side effect of switching off his scent-hiding charm, but as he’d be gone in a second, that wouldn’t be a problem.
She came in looking frazzled, and he knew he’d done the right thing, giving her the stateroom. He sidled toward the exit…then scuttled away when she stalked toward him on her way to the sink.
Whew, that was close. He waited until she was busy scrubbing her hair to tiptoe toward the door. He touched the handle…
She was staring right at him. The hairs on his nape rose and his hand froze. He didn’t want to do a Scooby ghost opening the door, which would raise even more questions in her very sharp mind.
So he waited, but she was never not looking at the damned door. He couldn’t leave without alerting her, and then she got naked and he couldn’t leave because his damned legs wouldn’t work.
When she started rubbing herself and making those
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