Page 130 of Edge of Midnight

“Make me come,” he begged.

She sank to her knees, pulling him into her mouth, clutching his hips. She sucked him hard, flicking her tongue along the sensitive flare, swirling, teasing. Just a few long, voluptuous strokes, as deep as she could take him, deeper than she’d ever dreamed she could.

He exploded, pumping his salty male essence into her mouth.

He sank to his knees and wrapped his arms around her, giving her something to cling to so she wouldn’t melt into a puddle.

Some minutes later, she felt him shift and move, pawing at the bedclothes. He got up, and pulled her body down on top of his on the bed. Still in her shoes and stockings. Panties wound around her thighs.

She must have slept for a while, and woke up disoriented. Her only point of reference in the world was Sean’s big, hard body, holding her tightly against him. It felt so safe, so warm. But nature was calling.

He protested sleepily as she extricated herself, but she insisted, murmuring something soothing. She pried the sandals off and padded into the bathroom, took care of her business, and stood there staring at herself in the mirror for a long time. As if she’d never seen that woman before. Makeup smeared, hair big and wild and tangled. Tricked out in whorish lingerie. Private parts throbbing and hot and slippery, from hard, prolonged use. Badly in need of a wash.

She set the water running into the big tub and peeled off the underwear. The panties were a lost cause. Unwearable.

She went back to the bed and tugged Sean’s arm. “I ran us a bath,” she told him. “Come on.”

He followed obediently enough, and climbed into the tub. She shut off the roaring tap, sudsed her hands up and started in on his chest, his muscular arms, his long, gorgeous hands. Loving the way the soapy water made his streaks and whorls of dark blond body hair so sleek, so deliciously touchable, strokable. Kissable.

His penis rose up again, indefatigable. She gazed at it, impressed. He shrugged, gave her a what-do-you-want-from-me look, and closed his eyes. Well, fine. If he could ignore it, so could she.

She stepped into the tub, sank down and wound her legs around his. “So did you get your ya-yas out? Do you feel better now?”

He opened one eye. “Fucking you definitely helped,” he said blandly. “Do you mean, am I going apeshit? I don’t know, Liv. That kite was a dirty trick. I swear to God, it was the exact same image.”

“I believe you. But maybe Kev saw the image somewhere else.”

“Our father never let us off that place, except to go to town for supplies,” Sean said. “It’s not likely he would have seen it elsewhere.”

“That kite cannot have anything to do with Kev,” she persisted gently. “You do know that, right?” She waited. “Don’t you?”

“Yeah.” He covered his eyes. “I just wish I could make it stop.”

“Make what stop?”

“This feeling.” He shook his head. “It was a twin thing. When one of us was in trouble, the other one knew it. It was like an itch, inside my mind. Fire ants, crawling through my nerves.”

“Brr,” she murmured. “Sounds uncomfortable.”

“Yeah. Anyhow, you’d figure that when he died, the feeling would die with him, right?”

She felt a shivery rush of goose bumps. “You mean…it didn’t?”

He closed his eyes, shook his head. “I feel it all the time. Not so much now as in the beginning. It drove me stark raving nuts the first few years. I had to distract myself by pulling crazy shit like jumping out of airplanes, blowing up buildings, getting tortured by warlords. That was what it took.” He leaned back against the tub, staring up at the ceiling. “They say people still feel pain and itching in limbs that have been amputated. Phantom pain. I guess that’s what I’ve got.”

“I’m sorry it hurts, but I envy you. I have good friends, but I’ve never been as close to anyone as what you’re describing.”

A faint frown creased his brow. “Guess what? You are now, babe.”

She blinked at him. “Hmm?”

“How do you think I knew to come after you? I woke out of a sound sleep full of adrenaline right before T-Rex stopped your car.”

Her mouth opened, closed, opened again. “Ah—I—”

“Get used to it.” There was a possessive gleam in his eyes. “You can’t hide anything from me.”

“I have nothing to hide,” she said. “Not from you. You always get uptight when I say things like this, but that makes me feel…safe.”

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