Page 34 of Taken for Granite
Tas frowned, the grumpy expression marring his perfectly symmetrical face and making him somehow more attractive. Not fair. “Why would you do this for me?” he asked.
“Because the sooner we can get you healed, the sooner we get Chloe back.”
That was the logical reason. She had to do it—had to have sex with the gargoyle—because her vagina had magical healing properties or something. God, it sounded so ridiculous.
“What if you get with child?” His eyes brightened for a moment, as if the idea pleased him.
“Can that happen?”
“Yes.” He did not elaborate.
“Risk of pregnancy is nil,” she added, thinking of the IUD she had implanted three years ago. “I might be ovulating right now, which could be the pheromones you were talking about, but I’m on birth control.” That made a certain degree of sense. “Do you know about birth control?”
“From personal experience?”
Juniper laughed unexpectedly, the snarky comment catching her off guard.
“I know of sheaths and womb veils,” he said.
“Wow, that’s old-fashioned.” A sheath had to be a condom, but she could only guess at the idea of a womb veil. “We have pills now to prevent pregnancy. I have an implanted device, so we’re safe in that regard,” she said. He grunted. “And, honestly, this is like my all-time biggest fantasy.”
“Really? I somehow doubt that.” Surprise colored his voice.
“Really. There was—it’s so weird to tell you this—but there was this cartoon when I was just hitting puberty. About gargoyles. The main character was way too good-looking for a kids’ show.”
“You have a fantasy about gargoyles? About me?”
Juniper nodded, belatedly realized that he couldn’t see her reply. “Yeah. And honestly, I just need to get out of my head. I’m worried. I’m tired. There’s nothing I can do. I want to not think.”
She wanted skin on skin, mouth to mouth. She wanted to be held, to lose herself in touch and sensation, the push and pull of them.
The sun fell on his face, casting his gray skin with a compelling luster. She wondered if he would be cool as stone to the touch, or warm. Her hand stretched out, but she pulled it back.
“Can I touch you?” she asked.
He nodded.
Warm. He was warm and alive, not a stone fantasy but a living, breathing—well, not a man but a person—a living, breathing person.
Her hands brushed along his collarbone, appreciating the strength in his broad shoulders before drifting down to his pecs. She could feel his heart beating under her palm, steady and sure. She leaned in, giving his heart a light kiss.
He sucked in his breath.
“That not okay?”
“It is fine.”
She noticed his clenched fists, the way his tail lashed against the rock, and his dick, hard as ever. Having a constant erection for the last two days couldn’t be comfortable. He wasn’t fine.
“How long does this mating fever-rut-heat thing last?”
“Until I have expressed the glands completely.”
So clinical. So absolutely not sexy. So completely Tas. Juniper smirked.
“Can I touch your horns?”
“There is not much sensation there. It is keratin,” he said.
