Page 50 of The Gargoyle and the Songbird

Of course he had to throw that in.

“I know you’d never give up control in any other circumstance,” I say, letting each word drip like my desire for him.

I slowly remove his pants, my fingers trembling with anticipation as I catch sight of his tail rising up behind him, normally concealed by his clothes. Graeme pulls of his shirt at the same time, his large, dark wings unfurling behind him.

His tail is long and surprisingly thick, ending in an arrowhead point. Its sleek, leathery skin matches his wings and glistens in the dim light. A dark surge of desire courses through me at the thought of all the ways I could pleasure it—my mouth eagerly sucking on its length, riding it with wild abandon.

For now, I start by teasing him with feather-light touches along his thighs, then the skin just above his cock, which is absolutely up for it.

I savor his shudders and moans as I trace patterns across his sensitive skin. Finally, unable to resist any longer, I take his enormous cock into my mouth, and it throbs against my tongue. As I work my magic on him, I reach my hand behind him and gently skate my nails along the base of his tail.

His hips buck against me, the head of his cock slamming against the back of my mouth, and I pull my mouth off him with a slick sound, leaning back to look him in the eye as my hands continue to explore every inch of his pulsing tail.

“Naughty Graeme,” I purr. He moans, louder and more urgently and I’m sure I’m sopping at the power I’m exercising over him. “Does that feel good?”

“You have no idea, woman,” he says. “That’s a very sensitive part of my body.”

Graeme’s hands grip the plush rug beneath us as I slide my mouth back over his cock with more pressure, edging him getting closer to climax.

Before he can come, he pulls at my hair, pulling me off of him.

“I want you to come too,” he growls. He moves to one side, pivoting himself until his breath is on my aching center, and then brings his cock back up to my mouth.

His tongue and lips expertly work my clit while my right hand strokes his throbbing length, using my left to tease and tug at his tail. I lick and suck, moving my hands and mouth as one.

Our bodies move in sync, the sound of our moans blending with the crackling fire beside us. One of Graeme’s wings curls around us and I look at the hard protrusions at the tip of each pinion and groan.I could do something with those, too.

The mounting pleasure builds to a fever pitch as Graeme’s talented mouth and fingers drive me to the brink. My body writhes beneath his ministrations, my hands and mouth tightening around his cock and tail as I near my peak.

Graeme’s tail twitches and thrashes in my grip and then we come together, our cries of ecstasy mingling and echoing off the enchanted suite’s walls.

Wave after wave of intense, toe-curling pleasure crashes over me as Graeme’s skilled tongue coaxes me through my climax. His own release pulses hot and thick into my mouth and I swallow eagerly, savoring the musky, masculine taste of him.

Afterward, Graeme’s gentle touch lingers on my skin as he caresses my hair. “You are amazing. Infuriating. Indecent,” he whispers.

We lie close to the crackling fire, letting our pulses slow to normal. When we finally pull on pajamas and crawl into bed, Graeme’s strong arms wrap around me and his heart thumps against my back.

He falls asleep instantly, but I lay there, torn between wanting this to be a onetime thing, a letting off of all the steam that has been building between us, and craving it again immediately because it was so mind-blowing.

My mind whirls as I lay enveloped in Graeme’s protective embrace. The chill of his body, usually so cool and unyielding, is mellowed by our activity, and every place we connect is a balm on my overheated skin.

My eyes trace the shadowed planes of his face, the chiseled angles softened in sleep. In repose, the hard lines of his mouth ease, the perpetual furrow between his brows smoothing out.

He looks younger, more vulnerable, a far cry from the gruff, stoic gargoyle I’ve come to know.

Even in sleep, Graeme’s body curls around mine, shielding me, his powerful wings cocooning us in a world that belongs only to us. His tail drapes heavily across my hips, the smooth skin warming from the heat of my body, the tip twitching lazily. Its comforting weight anchors me, tethering me to this moment, to the security I feel wrapped in his embrace.

Through the gauzy curtains, moonlight spills across the floor, painting everything in a silvery glow. It catches on the iridescent shimmer of Graeme’s wings, turning the leathery membrane to mother-of-pearl. I watch, mesmerized, as the delicate play of light shifts with each steady rise and fall of his chest.

Outside, wind swirls the endless snowflakes through the tree branches, and I hear the soft hooting of an owl, the distant tinkleof wind chimes. The inn is quiet, the other guests long since retired to their beds, leaving only the peaceful stillness of the witching hour.

I fall asleep thinking about Graeme flying, the stalker banished—if only temporarily—from my mind.

19

GRAEME

As I stir from a deep, satiated sleep, my senses slowly awakening, I become acutely aware of the warm, soft body nestled against my side.

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