Mirror of My Soul by Joey Hill (readict books txt) 📗

graceful beast felt. “Good saves the day. Love is reunited and Bruce Willis proves there are heroes that can make everything all better. I don’t believe in any of that of course, but it doesn’t mean I don’t wish it were true. I love that type of story.”

Josh grinned, obviously enjoying her. This was a side of her Tyler had not yet seen, so despite his hunger he stayed still, curious. Whether it was the circumstances, the stress she’d been through coming to this decision, or perhaps it was that Josh was not threatening or a challenge to her, this Marguerite was almost…girlish. And, an added bonus, she was making Josh feel better.

“And how about you?”

Josh studied the sky, a smile still flirting about his sensual lips. “Attack of the 50 Foot Woman for such obvious, crass reasons I refuse to discuss it further.”

She had never laughed, never that Tyler had heard, and she didn’t now but her eyes laughed at Josh. “Of course.” Then her gaze shifted. With a flood of heat to his loins, Tyler recognized she was looking for him in the shadows. He stepped out of them, let himself be seen. At the yearning look that flashed through her eyes, he couldn’t summon a smile, even a cordial word. He could barely resist the need to fall to his knees.

“Josh.” His voice was low.

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Joey W. Hill

Josh lifted his head, took in the situation at a glance. Rolling, he rose to his feet and nodded his head, a courtesy to both before he turned and left them. Marguerite blessed his intuitive and discreet withdrawal, for Tyler was advancing across the clearing swiftly.

She was ready for him, had come for this, even if she couldn’t say the words. She wanted to be his. All his. Whether it could go any further than tonight, whether her fragile psyche could handle more than this, she didn’t know, but she’d wanted it clear that she’d come to him at least this once. She’d met his terms. She had to put herself in his hands, have faith in every moment after that fateful decision. Not because she no longer feared such a decision so deeply she was shaking in places that did not show, but because she couldn’t imagine any other action.

He stopped with less than a foot between them. “I want you so much I can’t be

gentle, angel. Not even close.”

Her pulse was high in her throat. At his words, the rate increased. “I didn’t ask you to be.”

One large hand climbed up her bare thigh which was stretched out as a

counterbalance to the position in which she’d been leaning over the pond. The other went to her waist, brought her to her feet, even as the other hand continued its upward advance under the clinging fabric of the skirt to her bare ass beneath. Taking a firm hold, he pressed her hard against him as he brought his lips onto hers. He was making a noise in her mouth, actual growling as he held her tighter, closer, letting her feel every inch of his need for her. She’d never experienced this. Never felt such raw hunger emanating from a man who wanted her, a man with Tyler’s finesse who seemed to

know her deep inside herself, whose touch could demand and reassure at once.

“I’m going to take you to my room and make love to you,” he rasped against her lips, biting them. “The way I’ve imagined doing it for the past couple of weeks. But first I’m going to fuck you, right here, right now.”

He hooked his foot around her ankle, took them both down to the carpet of grass, catching their weight on his forearm. The thud of their impact was jarring, thrilling in its force, but not painful.

“Put your arms over your head.” It wasn’t a request, his tone making it easy for her to simply obey, her body trembling, her thighs opened by the press of his thighs between them. He raised his body only to unfasten his trousers and push them far enough down his hips to accomplish his objective. Thrusting his arm under her waist, his large hand palming her bottom to lift her higher, he drove into her. Her pussy was so wet he sank in deeper, faster and harder than he’d expected, causing her to cry out and arch, pain mixed with unbearable pleasure.

“God, I’ve gone crazy without you,” he muttered. Shoving the dress up to her

waist, over her breasts, he bared them to his avid gaze, holding the crumpled fabric against her throat and keeping her pinned as he loomed above her. His hips thrust, his 70

Mirror of My Soul

cock stroking tissues that were on fire, that were even now rippling with orgasmic response.

“I won’t let you stop coming tonight.” And he made it sound like the threat it was.

“Until I’ve done every single thing I’ve thought about doing to you and with you these two interminable weeks.”

She moved restlessly against him, her eyes so wide and clear, so full of him he thought he might be seeing his own soul. He hoped she was seeing the same in his. But even that was a garbled thought, for what he needed and wanted in this moment had more to do with things that went beyond words. And she understood his need. His beast roared at the recognition that she kept her hands above her head at his command, because that was the way he’d commanded it and because that was what the desire in her eyes said she wanted as well.

Master. She’d called him Master.

He pulled her legs up higher around his hips. She hooked them at the small of his back, that supple, flexible body undulating beneath him, reminding him of beautiful yoga asanas, of Shakti and Shiva coming together to find peace and balance, passion and joy, everything that made life worth living. The sword that could be raised as a defense against every