The Immortal Who Loved Me(Argeneau, book 21)(55) by Lynsay Sands
Sherry’s eyes blinked open as he shifted. When she peered down this time it was to see that his eyes were open and he was watching her.
“Hi,” she said weakly, and then cleared her throat and asked, “Do you think you could untie me?”
Basil gave her a lazy smile, and then shifted off of her and crawled to the head of the bed to examine the robe tie.
“I think you’ll need to come up higher so the tie has a little give,” he said with a frown as he examined the stretched material.
Sherry hesitated, and then rolled onto her stomach and shifted to her knees, murmuring “Thank you” when he reached back to take her elbow and help her crawl to the top of the bed on her knees. They were both upright and kneeling on the pillows now, side by side, and Basil rubbed his hand briefly down her back before setting to work on the tie.
“Thank you,” she whispered again when he managed to untie the end attached to the bed.
“My pleasure,” he assured her, and then turned and kissed her.
Sherry kissed him back, sucking eagerly at his tongue, before thrashing it with her own. She felt one of his hands claim a breast and pressed into the caress, then moaned as his other hand ran down her back to caress her bottom, before slipping between her legs from behind to find the wet heat building there.
“Oh, God,” Sherry moaned when he broke their kiss to run his mouth to her ear and nibble at it. She was riding his hand, her excitement back and burning bright, and then Basil suddenly cursed and stopped what he was doing to shift behind her and grab her hips. He paused then, though, and took a deep breath.
“I should finish untying—”
She raised her hands over her head for him to get to them, and he quickly set to work, groaning when she rubbed her bottom against his erection. It was madness and she knew it. They’d just done this twice, well not this exactly, but they’d both reached fulfillment twice now and yet all he had to do was touch or kiss her and she was burning as brightly as a Roman candle, desperate to find that release again.
“Hurry,” she urged, rubbing harder against him, and gasping at the pleasure it sent through them both. When her hands suddenly broke free, Sherry grabbed the top of the headboard and rubbed back against him a final time before he clasped her shoulder with one hand and her hip with the other and pulled her back even as he thrust forward.
She moaned as he filled her, her body clenching around him and trying to hold him in place. She then reached down between her legs to caress herself, her fingers playing over her slick skin as he thrust in and out of her. She was just teetering on the edge of orgasm when he suddenly reached around to find and pinch one of her nipples. It was what she needed. In the next moment they were both screaming as pleasure overwhelmed them.
The next time Sherry woke up she was alone in bed. Shifting sleepily, she turned on her side, intending to go back to sleep, but then paused when she saw the readout on the digital clock on the bedside table. It was 9 A.M. . . . and Lucian was supposed to be coming back this morning. Sighing, she reluctantly pushed the blankets aside and climbed out of bed, then made her way to the bathroom. She’d opened the door and started in before it occurred to her that Basil might be in there.
Fortunately, he wasn’t. Although the room was warm and a little steamy, suggesting that he’d showered not long ago. Deciding a shower was a good idea, and hoping it would wake her up and make her feel less like death warmed over, Sherry closed the door.
Fifteen minutes later Sherry was showered, teeth brushed, and her damp hair brushed neatly away from her face. She peered at herself in the mirror and grimaced at the circles under her eyes. Reaching for her makeup, she acknowledged that they should have gone right to sleep last night instead of—
Color came into her pale cheeks as she recalled what they’d done, and she picked up her makeup with a little shake of the head.
“You’re an animal,” she told her reflection quietly, and that’s what it had felt like. Unrestrained, wild, give it to me now. If her hands hadn’t been restrained the first time and if she hadn’t had her back to him the last time, his back and maybe even his front would have been a mass of scratches today.
Maybe that’s why he tied her, she thought suddenly. She was pretty sure she’d marked him up during their first go-round at the house in Port Henry . . . although, fast healer that he was, there had been no proof of it by the time she’d seen his back the next morning. For some reason, with Basil . . . she couldn’t help herself. She became this mindless wild thing, interested in only—
“God, I do love the cock rather than just like it, after all,” she muttered with self-deprecation, and then added to herself, Well, at least Basil’s. None of her previous lovers had driven her mad as he did. Not that she’d had hoards of them or anything. She could count how many lovers she’d had on one hand, which was pretty moderate for a thirty-two-year-old woman in today’s world. Still, she’d thought she’d had hot sex before, but this was beyond the norm.
Having done all the damage control she could with the makeup, Sherry headed out to the bedroom to dress. As she was reaching to take a top off its hanger, she noticed her wrists were chapped and bruised from her attempts to pull free of the robe tie. She had not healed overnight, like Basil would have. Grimacing, she left the shirt she’d originally intended to wear and reached for a long-sleeved blouse instead.
The sound of voices drifted up the hall when she opened the bedroom door. She recognized Drina’s and Harpers, and then Basil’s, but then another female spoke and she didn’t recognize this new voice. Frowning, Sherry slowed as she reached the end of the hall and then stopped to survey the people in the living room.
Lucian, Bricker, Drina, Harper, and Basil she all knew. She didn’t, however, recognize the second woman in the room or the man standing with her. The woman—tall, slender, dressed all in black, and with several weapons strapped to her waist and legs—certainly made an impression. But her hair was the most notable thing about her—ice blond from the scalp and for three inches down, it then switched to a darker color, which was a mixture of brown and red for the next six inches or so. Sherry couldn’t tell if it was a dye job that was growing out or if it had been deliberately dyed with dark ends, but it was striking just the same, and oddly attractive. The man was fair-haired and equally attractive.
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