Copyright © 2007 Gwen Hayes
All rights reserved, Freya's Bower.
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Power was a dangerous creature.
And now Madigan had it. And she liked it.
The initial adrenaline spike gave her physical strength and agility, but the accompanying hungers, once a nuisance, had now taken on a life of their own.
Well, plus she got to wear leather pants.
She had been told all her life she was pretty. This was different. She always had the power of ‘the flirt’—but now she warranted a new threat. Filled with newer and stronger carnal desires, her body was a weapon and a menace—to more than just demonic forces.
And she didn’t want to hunt a demon right now.
She kept him in her sights, her dangerous prey, all the while baiting him into her trap. The music pulsated erotically and powerfully through her fluid body, while his eyes roamed hot and hungry and all over her. She danced, and he watched. A voyeur. So sure he was in control. Always keeping her at arm’s length. She heard the popping of each tether of his precious control as it snapped.
The music changed. Nine Inch Nails. Great, this would be their song. How fitting. Something I Can Never Have. She let the moody, haunting piano music seep into her bones.
He moved toward the floor. Was the crowd parting? Was he that powerful? So menacing? God, yes. Yes, he was. And he was coming for her. Slowly—he seemed to be moving so achingly slow. The boys were still grinding on her, oblivious to the furious and barely contained demon killer closing in.
She wasn’t oblivious, though. She used her eyes like a tractor beam, until finally he arrived.
“Go.” One word, two boys gone.
Madigan and Morgan faced off. The music spoke to them in a language their bodies understood.
He reached first. He tugged her flush to the length of his hard, lean body. She shuddered as a fresh rush of adrenaline skittered through her nervous system. She thought he would kiss her, but instead, he moved his hands and pushed her into a dip straight from Dirty Dancing. Only it was slow, a languid move she arched into instantly, and he led her through the whole swing. They rocked together, and she felt the hard outline of him through their clothes. He pulled her back, tight and hard, reached one hand into her hair to remove the clip and then fingered her tresses until they waved free and wild once again.
Always on the edge of a kiss, but never crossing the line.
Unexpectedly, he spun her around, his erection pushing against the small of her back. His arms circled her waist, and as she melted into him, he pulled both her wrists above her head with one hand, using his other to guide her hips into a lazy figure eight pattern.
She had used her body to express herself all of her life, but never had dancing been so intimate. When at last his lips touched her neck, she whimpered as the blissful spiral carried her far away. His hot breath on her skin, followed by a tantalizing tongue, unglued her. He could take her on the dance floor if he wanted, she would never have been able to resist.
She rubbed and ground her backside against him shamelessly. Gone, it seemed, were the civilities—primal urges propelled her now. She tried to wrap her mind around a coherent thought, any thought would do. Instead, the music, the man, and the lust blocked out reason.
Finally, he released her wrists, and she pivoted in his arms so they stood face to face again. She hiked her leg onto his hip and rubbed against his length. He held her thigh while they mimicked sex so blatantly she expected to get tossed out of the bar any minute.
Throwing her arms around his neck, she reveled in her newfound abandon, and their lips inched closer and closer. She pulled his head closer still until their lips grazed tentatively. The world was suddenly open to possibilities.