Page 48 of Dark Angel

Delight thrums through me. This is exactly what I'd hoped to hear. Maybe she intrinsically understands that through sex, we can communicate on a level beyond words, a realm where our true selves can connect without barriers. I press her further, eager to hear her thoughts on the matter. "I'll show you how to have exceptional sex. Where would you like to begin?"

A hint of confusion laces her voice as she asks, "What do you mean, where?"

The air between us crackles with electric energy and desire, creating a continuous circuit from my body to hers. I force myself to remain still, fighting against the urge to act on our mutual attraction. Patience, Jaden.

“I liked what you did the other night. How you took control.” A deep blush suffuses the warm brown of her cheeks and makes her already beautiful skin seem to glow. Her words speak to my own desires.

With a gentle tug, I pull her closer against me, feeling the heat radiating from her body. My hand slides further up her smooth thigh, and she jumps slightly as my fingers brush against her G-string, igniting a spark of heat within her. Heat radiates off her body as I continue to explore, slipping my finger into the dampness pooling at the entrance of her vagina.

"Next time, no thong.” My low, husky voice is almost unrecognizable to my ears. “Do you orgasm when we have sex?”

She’s quiet for so long I wonder if she heard me. "I don’t think so," she says, taking another hit from her joint and sipping on her wine. “I guess that means no.”

I pause for a moment, letting her words sink in before diving deeper. "Have you ever truly experienced pleasure?" I keep my voice low and seductive. I’ve perfected the lover-boy persona.

Her cheeks flush with embarrassment, the heat spreading through our connection. "I don't think so."

With those four words, I am consumed by an intense desire to fulfill her every fantasy and craving. As a voyeur, I have observed and fantasized about satisfying a woman's every need, but now I can make it a reality with Rayne. And she sees me as some sexual hero, so there is no need for me to reveal my lack of experience or any potential dysfunction.

She rambles on nervously, her words tumbling out in that endearing yet frustrating way she has when she's nervous. "I mean our sex is great and all . . . don't get me wrong, I feel a level of excitement with you that I've never felt with anyone else. But it's like I reach a certain point and can't go any further."

I have found my mission. Without hesitation, I slip my finger under her thong and delve into her warm, wet folds. A surge of electricity courses through my body as her heat engulfs my finger. She gasps as I locate her G-spot and expertly massage it.

With a devilish grin, I lock eyes with her as my finger continues its rhythm inside her. She traces the laugh lines around my eye with her index finger, sending waves of desire coursing through me.

“What can I do to help you over the edge?” Every other thought except that I can be the one to bring this strange and mysterious woman her first pleasure blew from my mind. I focus every neuron on the pulses coming through our connection trying to read her confusion and desire as she sifts through thoughts. Finally, she says so quietly I wonder if I hear her, “I think you’ll have to force me.”

Excitement blasts through me, replacing my need to kill with my need to pleasure her. But the bond tells me she’s turning her embarrassment into a litany of reasons why this won’t work. I need to shut that down before it takes root.

"How old are you?" Her breathless question breaks the intensity between us.

"Thirty-three," I reply without missing a beat. I’m well aware of the age gap, but I am not going to discuss why our relationship may not work tonight. "Let's focus on the task at hand.” I emphasize the word 'hand'. My digit continues its pulsing rhythm, evoking moans of pleasure from her lips.

She clears her throat awkwardly. "Shouldn't we have a contract or something if we're going to do this? And what about a safe word?" Her words trail off, but I know that deep down, my little dragon craves submission and control in the bedroom. And it speaks directly to my own desire for dominance.

"What arouses you, makes you excited?" I take us back to the book she has been studying.

"You are what excites me.” Her voice is low and husky.

A rare chuckle escapes me, surprising even myself. I quickly mask it by playfully nipping at Rayne's neck. "Oh no, you don’t get off that easily." My usually lurking power surges, mixing pleasure with triumph. The thought of being her first in true fulfillment excites me. She’s a kink virgin. Hell, since losing a hymen to rape doesn’t count in my book, she’s a virgin. Despite the risks, my heart swells with cautious optimism.

My power, sensing the shift, leaps into overdrive. A primal part of me awakens, affirming her as ours. The admission from Rayne sends a thrill through me, igniting a fervor to explore and discover every facet of her being. I find myself drawn irresistibly to the challenge of unraveling her secrets while guarding my own heart.

With her uncharted depths and myriad secrets, Rayne presents a challenge I can't resist. My guarded walls, formidable as they are, seem less daunting as I contemplate exploring this enigmatic woman who defies my every expectation.

28

RAYNE

Two whole days, that bastard's given me the cold shoulder. Two days since he took me, and here I am, internally chastising myself for being melodramatic. But it's not just me. This new power inside me isn't letting me off easy either, forcing me to confront truths I'd rather ignore. It's a relentless reality check.

I stretch, comfortably wrapped up in a blanket and settled into a wonderfully comfortable armchair. The last few days, I've mainly rotated between this chair and my bed. The events following Jaden's drunken visit are somewhat hazy, a phenomenon I'm accustomed to after experiencing trauma. Not that letting Jaden take me was all that traumatic. I push away the guilty thought that I’d liked it rough.

My head does this nifty trick where it turns trauma into scenes I watch, stripping the sting right out of the memories. Strangely, shortly after an abusive event, details seem to slip from my grasp, along with the overwhelming shame and fear typically associated with such attacks. It's as if I have Edward Cullen's mind-reading skills from "Twilight," allowing me to observe events without feeling their impact, my own personal shield of detachment. It's a concerning pattern I've quietly observed in myself, one I've hidden away. ES certainly didn't need more ammunition to claim I was on the path to mental illness, much like my mother.

I sigh, wishing I had more energy. Whatever’s happening in this strange rendition of my science fiction dream took a turn the other night. Vague, very vague, memories of a ghost with a Scottish or Welsh accent, an angel named Bob who looked like Brad Pitt in his Joe Black role, and a warm cave. Whispers from Jaden’s voice talking to me float through my mind, making me happy and sad all at the same time. “You're like an escape for me, a break from the nightmares.” “I’m terrified.”

My heart breaks for him because of something that happened as a teen, but I can’t grasp the details. It’s all so confusing. This is one time when my ability to emotionally distance myself from an incident isn't serving me well. I heave out yet another sigh as I push that thought aside for now. Because there are times when I have absolute certainty that I know something is right although I can’t explain why, and this is one of those cases. My gut, and maybe something that happened last night, tells me that figuring out my magic is something I can’t force. But for some reason, just knowing it’s there and that I’m not a loser is enough for now. Or maybe it’s because I’m obsessed and consumed by the strange man who rescued me.

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