Free Fall by Carolyn Jewel Page A

didn’t let her go for long.
    With the blood-enhanced link they had going, they couldn’t tell whether words or thoughts were uttered or merely accessible through their connection. Didn’t care much, either. He sat her on the edge of the mattress, slid to the floor on his knees, between her legs, and he used his mouth on her, sliding, sucking, touching until she was shaking. His ice-queen was hot. Unbelievably hot. He was enveloped by her reactions, and it was natural for him to ramp it up for them both. The sex turned raw and his magic hooked deeper into her because his very nature when he was like this was to kickstart her reproductive physiology.
    What he needed was to be pounding into her, making her scream while he had a mind-blowing climax. He wouldn’t be remotely human when it happened, either. He forced himself to push away from her and wait for the edge to fade. He was jumpy with the need to nail her.
    “Stop it.” She grabbed his arm and pulled him toward her. “Stop holding back.”
    “Lys—”
    “I know what you told me.” She took his face between her hands, and, hell, she was naked, and he was all wrapped up in her head, and she was in his. She knew what he saw and how he felt about it; her sleek body, her hair down around her shoulders, pale skin slick with sweat, the scent of her. She knew what he felt, what he was thinking, that he wanted her hard and rough and under his control. “You were very clear about the risks.”
    With a growl, he flipped her onto her back again, and she shouted when he slammed into her. She held him while he pumped hard and fast, and she didn’t have any trouble keeping up. She even knew when to turn her head to the side to expose her throat for him again. More blood from the nick he’d made there the first time. Hot and sweet, tangy.
    They did it hard, fast, and dirty, and she was just amazingly good. They were amazingly good together. They were so tightly linked psychically he could hardly tell whose reactions belonged to whom. One of them screamed when she came, and it rolled through him, too. His talons sliced into the bed covers and she was in his head, connected with him, and her magic pulled at him because she wasn’t blocking anything.
    He dropped into that weird mental space where he wasn’t in the present any more. He was in some kind of free fall that felt damn close to bliss.
    His magic spreads through her, changes something in her, changes him. When he comes, it’s overwhelming for her. She calls out. His name. His name and when she finishes shuddering with her climax, he’s still in his other form .
    Back in his head, hers? He had to work at controlling himself, and making sure he was aware enough to change back before it was too late. Not yet, though. Not yet. She wrapped her long legs around him, up high around his hips, meeting him thrust for thrust, and the release that had been building hit them both, blew them away in a gut-wrenching, breath-stealing orgasm that turned them inside out. He went deep into her magic and let the storm roll over them.
    When he could breathe again, her arms were tight around his shoulders, her legs wrapped tight around his hips. He had a hand on her ass, holding her against him. He was still changed. Not even remotely human. He’d come inside her. No protection, not that it would have mattered. No change back to human.
    The hell of it was, he was up for doing it again, and she knew it and wanted that astonishing, doubled, mind-bending climax as much as he did. She needed what that bastard Michael had denied her all this time. She blinked a couple of times, and arched her hips against him. More. Again.
    He shifted into another form and they did it again, missionary because he had wings in this form. Slower this time, sweeter even, so that when he knew he was perilously close, he wasn’t expecting to be annihilated the way they had been before. He expected that this time he would be able to change back before it was