Page 80 of A Murderous Crow
It felt even better when the clothes were off, and he was inside of me. He was gentler, more sedate this time than in past encounters, and I loved it, but I missed the Corvus of my dream at the moment. The man of surety and confidence who wouldn’t hesitate to drive me into the bed so hard I thought we might break it.
I bit his bottom lip until he made a noise and let it go, begging him“Harder.”And he obliged. Driving into me harder, deeper, but not faster and it wasperfect.
“Yes, oh, yes!” I held him close, burying my hands in his hair, writhing in counterpoint to his movements andoh, oh, oh!There, right there.
I was breathless with anticipation, the pleasure mounting, my body his to play with how he saw fit, andGod, lord, did he know how to play me.
He played me so finely, I never wanted him to stop, and the sounds of his moaning just served to push me that much closer to the edge.
We came together, both shuddering, both trembling finely in each other’s arms, our bodies touching and essence mingling, and it was fuckingperfect.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Corvus…
“Corvus…” her voice held just a hint of warning to it, and her eyes sparkled with mirth.
“I’m sorry, did you just call himCorvus?” my client asked and I chuckled.
“No, she called me Corbett, you misheard. Interestingly, both mean the same thing,” I said.
It was contentious across the table, but at the same time this deal was done – and while both sides were getting what they wanted, neither were exactly happy about it. The sign of a perfectly performed negotiation. When both sides could live with it, but neither side were exactly over the moon.
Savannah and I were playing our parts, just trying to get the documents signed so we could get out of here. It was Thursday, and dinner was going to be served at the Manse. I found myself more excited than daunted about announcing her officially as my woman.
It was a big deal, and every one of the Wraiths had their own way of doing things. For Synister, it had been fucking Madisynat the table. He did love an audience. Fear, it had been eating his woman out on the pool table at the club one night when all the brothers were there.
Hangman’s situation with Lorelai was more sedate than that, as she’d had a very recent assault in her past that required a bit more of a delicate approach. So, he had settled for snapping at any one of us that dared to come too near her at a gathering at the Manse shortly after they’d settled into their life together at the caretaker’s house at old Bonaventure. It hadn’t helped that her mother had been there the first time all of us had gotten together. He made up for it later with a particularly artful display of Shabari, suspending her in the clubhouse garage with just us boys present to watch the show in silence. She’d been blindfolded to make it easier, and it had been a beautiful display.
I had something of my own planned tonight. A game for my little kitten to play; one ofcat and mousethat would serve three purposes. One, to show her off asmine, two, to get me off, and three, to prove to the men of the Wraiths that the past was in the past and that I trusted them.
We wrapped things up and when both clients had left the parking lot, and we were satisfied we were alone, I opened the passenger door to the Porche.
“After you,” I murmured, and she slid into the passenger seat, setting her laptop laden Italian leather briefcase at her feet. She had confessed her ability to thrift shop, and had confessed that it wasn’t a thrift store find but rather had been a gift from her little brother upon her college graduation. Her purse, on the other hand, had been a particularly good thrift store find that had only required a little bit of saddle soap and some TLC to restore.
I had to compliment her on her fine work; I never would have been able to tell that it’d been thrifted. She’d laughed and had told me that one had been professionally handled, and hadcost her more than the purse itself – but she was responsible for refinishing all of her furniture.
I drove us back home so that we could change into something more casual and shed the workday.
We parted ways at the garage, her to go to her apartment, and me to my kitchen door. I went upstairs, and lingered at my closet for a moment, smiling softly to myself as I pulled down my favorite, well-worn Henley, and a butter soft pair of jeans. I dressed quickly, changing out my dress socks for something thicker, that would withstand my heavy motorcycle boots and went downstairs to the coat closet for the rest.
I donned my chaps, jacket, and cut, and sighed, shrugging into the road worn leather like a knight would his armor. I felt more like myself in my gear, and as I stepped out the back door to head back to the garage, I paused to take Savannah in.
I realized, I’d never actually seen her in anything this casual. She wore jeans, rolled up at the cuff over dark blue Keds and low white socks that barely peeked over the line of the shoe. The jeans were a medium denim in color, and whole – no holes, which I was surprised she found anything without in this day and age. Over them, she wore a light blue men’s dress shirt, rolled back at the wrist and I swear it suspiciously looked like one of mine…
“Is that my shirt?” I asked her.
She smiled a little shyly and said, “Maybe. A tee shirt just didn’t feel right.” She hitched her purse a little higher on her shoulder and I couldn’t help but grin.
“It’s perfect,” I said and she eyed me just a little suspiciously on her own.
“What, ah… what’s this?” she asked, waving vaguely in my direction.
“This is what I wear when I ride,” I told her.
“Shall I follow you, then?” she asked and I grinned wider and shook my head.
“Oh, no. You’re riding with me.”
