Chapter 40

Chapter 40

Imogen

I thought I hated giving head.

Previously, it'd always been attempts to push me deeper, the sounds of my gags, my frantic efforts to pull away only met with laughter, especially when I was gasping, my eyes bleary. Apparently, I needed to do it with the right guy. I mean, I saw it, felt Lucas' length in my hand, and suddenly there was no other way to tackle it. That girth made clear I wouldn't get much down my throat, but I wanted to know exactly how far I'd get. It was with his hiss of pleasure, the way his breath caught in his chest and stayed there, his heart fluttering like a caged bird, I was willing to bet–this time I wasn't having anything done to me. I was the one doing it.

Kissing the head with soft lips slick with saliva, just brushing them against the hard head that poked free of his foreskin. That groan, the way he held my head like it was precious, not a handle to drag me down deeper, was everything. His cock jumped in my hand as I licked a stripe up his length and before the saliva could dry, my mouth opened to admit his head. My tongue moved around and around, wetting him, caressing him, his cock twitching in my palm at every pass. It was eager for more, and I was going to give it to him.

I was right, I didn't get real far at all. My jaws strained with the effort of taking Lucas deeper, but the only way that was happening was if my teeth raked across his length. He didn't seem to mind when I pulled back. Instead, his hips moved in tiny pulses in time with my bobbing head, then went perfectly still as I suctioned the end. Harder and harder, his groans grew louder, more guttural, salty precum coating my tongue as I imagined it. All of this thickness being forced somewhere much more intimate.

Mike knew I needed more than he had to give and that went further than emotionally. When I was a virgin, his smaller size was actually a blessing, but that quickly wore off. It felt like there were places inside me he just couldn't hit, but Lucas? I looked up and then hummed, something that had his whole body stiffening. I suspect there was no way he could miss. That smug thought had my entire being thrumming, right up until the point his grip on my head tightened.

This was the moment where he failed. Where he decided his pleasure was all that mattered and he took it. Where he blew down my throat, then pulled back, tucking himself away, because when he had what he wanted, nothing else was important. I was so damn sure of that, so imagine my surprise when he pulled me free.

"Imogen, fuck… Fuck…"

I watched his cock throb in the air, then before I could think of what to do about that, I was picked up and set on an expansive, king size bed.

"Tell me you want me." He demanded this, no longer the sweet geeky boy with the freckles. Instead, he'd been replaced by this hot-eyed demon who's hand slid up my inner thigh. "Tell me you want this."

As his hand covered my mound, a terrible heat began, something I'd never felt before. Hot, so hot, like I was made of honey, not flesh and blood, and to my shame, I felt a rush of something slick soak my crotch.

"Oh, I think you do."

He seemed so damn sure of himself, that cocky smile transforming his face, right up until my hand slid down. I ringed my fingers around the base of his cock and gave it an experimental squeeze.

"About as much as you do."

"That much, huh?" He tried for humour and instead just sounded destroyed, naked desire replacing that smile. "More than anything. More than you want your next breath." That smile was back, but it was a small, lopsided one now. "More than a mint copy of Action Comics #1."

"Definitely more than that," I said with a nod, but whatever else I was thinking was torn away with my yoga pants and underwear, leaving me bare beneath him. I parted my thighs, ready to wrap them around his hips and drag him closer, but he had other ideas. Kisses rained their way down my belly until he settled here.

Fuck.

This was so damn different it was like a whole other experience. Lucas ate me like I tasted better than the roast lamb, sliding his tongue along my whole seam then using his thumbs to spread me wider. His tongue took possession of everything he revealed. Swirling around my clit until I was bucking up off the bed and into his mouth, then pressed between my thighs as he tried to work it up into me as far as it could go. The slick wiggle, the pressure of his jaw working had me squirming off the bed, but just as I felt that prickling feeling that told me I was about to come, I pulled him free. Lucas blinked, staring but not seeing me until I drew him closer.

"We need to come together," I assured him and his head bent down to watch the way we fitted together, both of us letting out a strangled sound as the end of his cock grazed my entrance.

"Protection?" he asked, not letting himself be drawn closer.

"Oh shit…" I realised then that I posed a risk to him. I'd only had the one sexual partner, but could the same be said of Mike? "I got caught up. You've never done this. I should get tested first."

"Imogen." His warm tone drew my gaze up to meet his. "You can't give me anything, but I… I'm assuming you're not keen to have a baby?"

"Oh right. Implant." I tapped my arm. "I made sure of that ages ago. No babies for me." Well, at least not now. I was being some kind of feminine stereotype, imagining little blond-haired boys or girls with freckles across their noses, running after me as we played in a field of flowers, but I shook that little fantasy off. "So if you…"

Whatever I had to say was choked off as he pushed forward. Shit, shit, shit, there was no mistaking what was happening. My whole body was forced to flex, stretch, and open for him. Inch by inch, he worked himself back and forth, making clear I was right.

"Like this?" he grunted, seeking some sort of validation, but all I could do was moan. "Imogen?"

His cock was a heavy weight inside me and every pulse dragged against something that had me seeing stars, right up until he stopped.

"Imogen…"

He looked like he had something he needed to say, just there on the tip of his tongue, but there was no communication possible right now, verbally at least. There was only him and only me, moving together to become more than the sum of our parts. My nails dug into his shoulders, my hips thrusting back, meeting him stroke for stroke as they got faster, harder, deeper. We were like two sticks being rubbed together, heat building.

"Imogen…"

That bloody mouth, it had better things to do, so I tugged his head down, claiming it as mine. His kiss told me everything I needed to know and so did his frantic pants. That he was rocking my fucking world and he was right there with me. In some sort of insane freefall, this was like sex for the first time for both of us. The first time done with any kind of reverence. The first time I loved every second of it. The first time I had everything I needed and he did too. We stared into each other's eyes, as if unwilling to believe this was happening, right up until the point we exploded.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

I panted that out as pleasure slammed into me just as hard as he did, breaking me open. Every barrier, every pain, every worry or concern, was washed away by a sea of ecstasy, then when all the crap was cleared out, pure bliss followed and I surfed each wave. My head was thrown back, the sounds from my throat animalistic, but his were the same. He came with a great roar that threatened to shake the very windows, and I held him through it. His pleasure provoked yet more of my own, turning one orgasm into another, over and over, just ripples of pleasure spreading out until finally we collapsed down onto the bed.

Being held through the afterglow was really very nice. I was feeling way too snuggly, but when I tried to pull back, he hauled me right back where I was.

"Stay," he said, his tone ragged.

"If you insist."

I tried for humour and failed hopelessly, nestling in closer, my breathing growing slower and slower to match his.

This wasn't what I was supposed to do. I'd intended to clean up and scuttle out the door, back to my own room. This was just a bit of fun, my first foray into singledom, but that's not how it felt. Safe, that was my first thought, then happy, so damn happy. Happier than I'd ever dared to feel, and perhaps that's why I stayed. Also held close and treasured, the little grunt of satisfaction Lucas made when I settled my head on his chest was everything I never knew I wanted.

"You never showed me your comics…"

My eyelids were growing heavy, but I made that one last crack as the sweet lassitude took me down.

"Tomorrow," he promised. "I'll show you everything tomorrow."

But if I hoped to find solace in sleep, I was mistaken. All the warmth of before was gone, just leaving me here. The same damn forest at night, the same moonlight shifting restlessly in the dark, but this time there were no bears to protect me. A bird's call had me spinning around one way, the creak of a tree moving in the wind spinning me back around, but it was the snap of a branch that froze me to the spot. I remembered the monstrous visage of the man who hunted me and every muscle quivered as I forced myself to look over my shoulder.

But I didn't find Phil standing there.

Asher walked out from under the trees just wearing a pair of denim jeans. He shoved his hands in his pockets as I turned to face him.

"Nothing will ever hurt you here."

"You don't know that." My reply was automatic and I looked around as if to convince myself of just that, seeing only the vague shapes of trees around us.

"I do, actually."

"So, you're just as bossy in my dreams as you are in real life," I muttered to myself, but dream Asher had preternatural hearing. He snorted and then stepped forward.

"Bossy, strong, protective, obsessive." He listed all the attributes I'd thought about when reading my books, his lips twisting into a smile. "But you already know that."

"Why?" In my dreams, nothing could distract me. No Kyle busting in on me and Lucas, no Asher interrupting me and Kyle. I could ask the questions without allowing myself to be sidetracked. "Why, Asher? You don't roll out the red carpet for each woman that comes here. You don't personally oversee their protection." He nodded, as if encouraging me to have my say. "You don't ensure every single woman has a meal waiting for her, or give her a job when she needs a way to pay her rent." He nodded, dream-Asher confirming all of my suspicions. "What makes me so special?"

"Everything." Suddenly, he was standing right before me, his hand going to the back of my neck and that forced our heads together. "Everything, Imogen. From the moment I was born, I've known there was one woman in all of the world for me. Just one. Every step I took was one that brought me closer to her." He stared down at me. "Towards you. I protect you because my soul screams that I must. Because…"

Asher was saying everything I'd ever wanted to hear. These kinds of grand declarations would've been impossible to hear in real life, but in my dreams? My greedy little heart sucked every word up. That wasn't enough, though. He had to go and answer all the questions I'd asked and the ones that still lurked deep inside me.

I'd seen him take form as a gigantic polar bear, so that wasn't what shocked me. Instead, it was the slow transformation. With every increment his face grew less and less human. The angles sharpened, his eyes went from pale to electric blue, and they took on an animalistic cast as he stared. That was nothing compared to this, though. His mouth fell open not to reveal all those reassuringly blunt teeth but fangs.

"I will protect you, hunt down your enemies and kill every single one, because they cannot walk the earth, not while she does."

I remembered then, the three men's reference to ‘she' in the overheard conversation.

"Who?" I asked, but I knew, and his dark chuckle made clear that was obvious. He moved and pressed a kiss to my forehead.

"The other half of my heart. The only woman I'll ever love. My fated mate."

I jerked awake, heart pounding, breath noisy as I just stared, trying to make sense of the dark shapes around me. Lucas' sleepy nuzzle, his heavy exhalations clued me in. I pulled free of his embrace, feeling not a small amount of regret as I did so, but when I stared down at him, tracing the shape of his face with my eyes, his own flicked open.

"Imogen…?" He couldn't answer the questions I had, but I knew who could. I scooped up my t-shirt from the floor and then strode out of his room and down the hall. "Imogen?"

Let him follow. Let him call out my name. Let Kyle spill out from his bedroom and into the hall, summoned by some unhidden force. I dodged around him, knowing where I needed to go and not willing to let anything get in my way, not until my hand rapped on Asher's door once, twice, three times, only for him to pull it open.

He was wearing the same jeans. His chest was bare and he had the same smile on his face. There wasn't an iota of surprise in his eyes, only a strangely knowing air.

"You…"

My good hand stopped midway through stabbing my finger in his direction, but at the last minute, I considered what I was going to ask. It was ridiculous, impossible, a stupid dream. It was?—

"You have questions," he said. "I have all the answers, but you'll have to come with me to get them."

It felt like every day since the moment they stepped between me and Phil had been leading to just this moment, so I stared at his hand for a second, then slapped mine into it.

"This way," he said, dragging me towards the gym.