Page 59 of The Gargoyle and the Songbird

With that, he rolls me onto my back once more, settling his powerful body over mine. I wrap my legs around his waist, drawing him closer, relishing the delicious weight of him pressing me into the mattress.

Graeme reaches between us, grasping his hard length and lining himself up with my entrance. He pauses, the blunt head of his cock nudging against my slick folds.

“Do you want this, Ecco?” he asks softly.

My gaze locks with his. The raw emotion I see swirling in those pale blue depths takes my breath away—desire, possessiveness, tenderness, all warring for dominance.

“Yes,” I say. “Please, Graeme.”

With a groan, Graeme sinks slowly into me. I gasp at the first touch of his cold skin inside of my heat, a sensation that I’ve never experienced before. It’s unexpected and incredible.

I moan as he pushes in further, relishing the incredible sensation of his thick cock stretching me. Graeme pauses when he’s fully sheathed, giving us both a moment to adjust to the intensity of the connection.

“Gods, you feel incredible,” he says, his voice strained with the effort of holding himself still. “So warm, so perfect.”

I can only moan in response, my brain short-circuiting from this amazing male buried hilt-deep inside of me.

Graeme begins to move, withdrawing almost fully before surging back in with a slow, powerful thrust. I cry out at the sensation, my nails digging into his back as I cling to him, anchoring myself against the onslaught of pleasure.

He sets a steady, relentless pace, each deep stroke stoking the embers of my desire higher and higher. I meet him thrust for thrust, tilting my hips to take him even deeper.

Graeme leans down, capturing my lips in a mind-melting kiss that leaves me breathless. His tongue plunders my mouth, mimicking the rhythm of his hips as he claims me so thoroughly. I lose myself in the sensations, in the taste and feel and scent of him surrounding me, consuming me.

“Ecco,” Graeme groans against my lips, his thrusts becoming more erratic, more urgent.

I can tell he’s close, his impressive control finally starting to fray at the edges. The knowledge that I can affect him this way, that I can make him lose himself in me, sends a heady thrill through my veins.

I tighten my legs around him, changing the angle of his thrusts so that he hits that perfect spot inside me with every stroke. Pleasure ignites along my nerve endings, building and coalescing into an inferno threatening to engulf me. My orgasm’s approaching, cresting like a tidal wave about to break upon the shore.

“Graeme,” I gasp, my voice breathy and desperate. “I’m going to… I need...”

“Let go, Ecco,” he commands, his voice a deep growl reverberating through my body. “Come with me.”

As if waiting for his permission, my climax crashes over me, stealing my breath and obliterating all rational thought. I clench around Graeme’s thick, cold length, my inner walls fluttering and squeezing him as waves of ecstasy roll through me.

I dimly hear Graeme’s answering groan. His hips stutter and then surge forward one final time as he finds his own release, spilling himself deep inside me, a contrasting heat against his cool length.

For long moments, we stay locked together, our harsh breaths mingling as we come down from the high of our shared passion. Graeme’s forehead rests against mine, his eyes closed, his handsome face awash in a blissful, sated expression.

After everything we’ve gone through this evening, I’m too tired to keep my eyes open a minute longer. I start to drift off to sleep in his strong arms. And as I do, a thought bubbles to the surface.

Maybe, if I’m lucky, I’ll need a bodyguard forever.

22

ECCO

Graeme and I spent the next several days mapping each other’s bodies. Eventually, I realized I’d gone silent on my manager and had entirely stopped thinking about my career. Now, I sit cross-legged on the heart-shaped bed in the honeymoon suite, laptop balanced precariously on my knees as I chat with Natalie over video call.

Graeme stepped into the hall to give me privacy to chat with her, but is waiting, as always, just outside the door.

Natalie’s face fills the screen, her blond bob and impeccable makeup as professionally polished as always—but there’s excitement dancing in her eyes.

“Ecco, you won’t believe this,” she gushes. “I thought this blizzard was going to be a disaster, that we were going to lose all the momentum from the album release, having to postpone your appearances. But guess what? People are eating up this crazy turn of events. Your fans are even more obsessed with you than ever!”

I blink, a little dazzled by this revelation.

There’s a twinge of annoyance—of course people are rubbernecking my situation, treating my life like some juicy soap opera. As if being trapped in a magical snow globe with amystery stalker is just the latest episode of The Ecco Show, not a stressful situation that a real person has to deal with.

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