All the King's Men: The Beginning Page 4

  She stirred and quietly squeaked deep in her throat as she stretched against him. "Hey," she said sleepily, turning her head.

  He brushed her hair out of her face. "Hey, sleepyhead."

  She grinned. "I was tired."

  "You've been tired a lot lately. You okay?"

  Her grin spread into a straight-toothed smile. "I'm perfect." She turned in his arms, wrapped hers around his shoulders, and combed her fingers through his hair.

  "Perfect, huh?" He tipped her face to his and brushed his lips over hers.

  She nodded, coquettish and gorgeous, her light brown, green-and-gold-flecked eyes sparkling.

  "How about you share some of your perfection with me then." He winked and slid the negligee up her hips. She wore a lacy thong underneath, and he squeezed one perfect orb of flesh on her bottom as he rolled to his back and pulled her on top of him.

  "Rough night?" Her fingers made short work of the fastenings on his pants, and he helped her push them down his thighs.

  "Not anymore." Together, they managed to get his pants and boxers into a bundle at the foot of the bed. "Now that I'm in your capable hands." He moaned and closed his eyes as her palm wrapped around his erection.

  "My capable hands?" Amused arousal tinged her voice.

  "Oh, baby, you have no idea how unbelievably capable your hand is right now."

  She giggled and nibbled the side of his neck with butterfly bites and nectar kisses as he snagged the bit of floss on her rump and snapped it without so much as an ounce of effort.

  Her sigh of relief told him she approved.

  No matter how bad his nights were, or how much Micah got on his nerves, he could always come home to Josie, and she made everything all right. She was the calm he needed to unwind, the breath he needed to relax, the breeze to whisper his soul into submission. Josie was what every male searched for in a mate. She was his ideal, his match, his perfect complement.

  "I'm grateful for the day I found you, baby," he whispered into her hair.

  "Me, too." Her nimble hand gently rode up his shaft, then back down.

  He groaned and tipped his head back as her mouth slid down to his Adam's apple. Her tongue swirled firm circles around and around, and still farther down to the hollow between his collarbones. All the while, her hand worked magic on him.

  "You always know what I need," he said.

  She rose up his body and licked his lips. "That's because I'm so unbelievably in love with you."

  "Even after all this time."

  "Especially after all this time."

  Not only did she know what to do, she knew what to say. Tristan wasn't fooling himself. He knew that since they hadn't technically mated one another that their relationship could slip away. Another could come along and mate her, or he could mate another, and then their relationship would be null, no matter how long they had been together. And it wasn't just the threat of another mate coming along. Like humans, without the biological link to bind them to one another, he and Josie could simply fall out of love at some point. Grow tired of one another and lose the magic they'd managed to cultivate for nearly a hundred years. But for now, that wasn't happening. They were together, in love, and devoted to one another.

  "I love you," he said.

  "Duh," she answered with a coy wink.

  "Hey now, no need to get sassy." He swatted her bottom and grabbed the back of her thigh—where she was wickedly ticklish—with his other hand and squeezed.

  She threw her head back in a fit of giggles, squirming as he wriggled his fingers against her flesh. "Stop! Oh my God. Tristan!" She squealed and writhed against him, which stoked his arousal even more.

  Laughing but on fire to give himself to her, he flipped her to her stomach and shifted to pin her down as he shoved up the nighty to reveal her perfect ass, smooth and round and out of this world sexy.

  "Tristan!" She gasped as he bent and playfully bit her right cheek and held her down with his hands gripping either side of her hips.

  She liked when he played with her ass, which was perfect since he liked playing with it. Her bottom was firm and round, the ideal derriere for an ass man like Tristan. At least Mother Nature had gotten that part of their relationship right. It would have sucked if Josie didn't get so worked up with butt play. As it was, her bottom was the surest way to rev her engine. She loved when he spanked her, loved when he pinched her cheeks, bit them, or slid his fingers down the crease as he was now. In an instant, she was breathing heavily into the comforter, her fingers fisting handfuls of fabric at her sides.

  That was his Josie, his sexy freak in bed.

  He lay down on her back, reached into the nightstand, and pulled out the body oil as he nibbled the back of her shoulder. Then he rose to his knees between her legs and drizzled her backside with a generous dose of slippery wetness before pouring some into his palm.

  "You're in a mood tonight, baby," he said, stroking oil over his erection with one hand as he massaged her left cheek with the other.

  Her shoulders hunched as she drew her arms in and squirmed, moving her ass side to side as if trying to encourage his hand to explore her everywhere. "Uh-huh," she managed to breathe out. She bent her right leg, and her heel playfully bumped the back of his arm.

  "What's got you so hot? Huh, baby?" Tristan squeezed both hands around her luscious cheeks and slid his cock smoothly between them as he pushed on the sides to close her flesh around him. The friction was delicious, and beneath him, she moaned and panted desperately as he drove his cock forward and back, forward and back, groaning at the sight of his head poking out from between her oil-slicked cheeks with every upward thrust.

  He shifted his knees to push her legs wider and leaned over her, arms planted on either side of her torso so he could glide his cock up and down the slippery cleft of her ass, and then all the way up the center of her back, which glistened with oil. Slowly, he made love to her back, trailing the length of his cock up and down and across her skin, using his erection like a brush to spread the oil all over her. The slick sensation of gliding against her skin and back down to her ass drove him wild, and Josie seemed to be just as keyed up as he was. Maybe even more so. Lusty, make-me-come moans broke from her throat with every breath, and her long fingers twisted and kneaded the blankets into vicious mounds.

  Easing himself down on her back, he drove his cock into the part of her ass again. "What's got you so hot for me tonight, baby?"

  She simply mewled in reply, as if begging him not to stop.

  "You want me here?" He pressed more firmly between her cheeks, right where he knew she wanted him.

  Josie enjoyed anal sex, which no one would have guessed from looking at her. She appeared so straight and laced up, but in the bedroom, she turned into a vixen. She was the epitome of a lady in the street but a freak in the bed, so it was no surprise that she arched her back and lifted her ass against him, silently begging him not to stop.

  She nodded urgently as she shot him a salacious, over-the-shoulder glance that bitch-slapped his inner hedonist so hard his cock wept. "Yes. Please yes." She practically moaned the words.

  With the temperature rising and no time to lose, he grabbed the bottle of oil, lifted himself, doused the crease of her bottom again, then tossed the bottle aside and eased back down, letting his hard-on collect plenty of lubricant as it glided toward home.

  Her hands clenched the sheets, and her body shuddered as the head gained entry. Sweet bliss. So snug. So damn sexy. Josie lifted her hips, wordlessly begging him for more as she whimpered and clawed the bedding.

  No matter how often he took her this way, he always started slowly. They both loved feeling him glide in and out of her, and watching his cock disappear little by little nearly drove him delirious with lust. Besides, he could thrust—and would—once the lube made the way easier.

  Applying gentle pressure, he eased inside a little at a time, pulled back slightly, pushed forward, glided back out, slid deeper, until finally he was all the way. He
grunted as he lay down over her back and flexed his hips, grinding against her as he drove himself deep. She gasped and reached for his hand.

  He wound his fingers around hers and, together, they fisted the comforter as they found their rhythm. One that came from decades of experience. A rhythm that flowed through them as naturally as blood. After so long together, he knew her body, and she knew his. He knew what she wanted by the way she moaned and sighed. Whether or not she wanted it fast or slow by the tension in her fingers, and how close she was to coming by the quick, shallow, punctuated gasps that came seconds before she ruptured.

  And right now she wanted it hard and fast. She was on fire tonight.

  "God, baby, you're like an animal."

  She grunted and flung her head back against his shoulder. "More."

  And he gave her more. So much more. Josie spurred him to reach heights he hadn't found during sex in months. God, he loved this side of her, and he held on tight as he pumped his hips in rapid thrusts, drawing urgent cries and demanding commands of "harder, faster" from her.

  Sweat poured from his scalp, down his back, and over his chest, mixing with the oil to create the most unreal, erotic slickness between their bodies. His thick biceps clenched, his legs stiffened and shook, and beneath him, Josie entered the point of no return. Her gasps tightened, grew shallow, and her body quieted as she seemed to hold her breath.

  She was going to come. And so was he. So close. They were going to crash together. What a fucking rush.

  "Baby, baby…yes…" He slammed his eyes shut, ground his teeth, and felt her approaching orgasm rise as if on a geyser.

  And then the geyser gave and the world crashed around them.

  Her cries mingled with his, and he thrust hard, once, twice, three times—each involuntary, ass-clenching contraction like an exclamation point—as he spilled inside her, grunting his pleasure until he finally collapsed on her back.

  Josie completed his life. She was his mate now and forever, in every way except one, but at times like this, that didn't matter. They were so perfectly in tune with one another that Tristan had begun to think that not even a biological bond could be stronger.

  "That was a nice welcome home," he said moments later, breathless. He tucked his face against the side of her neck. A final pulse of orgasm tightened his body, and he moaned as every muscle clenched, and then he sighed as he molded into her.

  He felt her cheek lift against his face and knew she was smiling.

  "Unexpected," she said softly.

  "Very." He eased out of her and rolled to the side and propped himself on one elbow, letting the fingers of his other hand skim the supple, oil-smoothed skin of her back and shoulders. "Have I told you lately how beautiful you are?"

  She lifted to her elbows and turned smoky eyes on him. "I think you might have mentioned it last night, before you left for work." She leaned toward him and kissed him, softly, sweetly.

  "Mm." He nodded introspectively and grinned. "I guess I did. But I'll say it again. You're beautiful."

  "So are you." She shifted to her side to face him and rumpled his hair. "But you need a haircut, handsome."

  He raked his fingers through his hair and tousled it. "What? You don't like the mangy grunge look I'm going for?" He sat up and turned so he could look in the mirror. His blond hair stuck out in every direction.

  Josie pushed herself up and pressed behind him, arms around his chest, legs circling his hips, and rested her cheek against the center of his back. "You wear mangy grunge well, baby."

  Her fingers caressed his stomach, and he placed his hands over hers. "You wear everything well." He looked over his shoulder as she lifted her face from his back and met his gaze. They kissed, holding their intimate caress for several long, luxurious moments before Tristan broke away. "So, what's the good news?" he said.

  Josie's eyes lit, and her face brightened. And were those tears? She must have really wanted that internship. He had no idea it was that important to her.

  "Oh, Tristan…" For a heartbeat, her eyes searched his, gleaming with moisture, and then she blinked rapidly and looked away.

  Tristan turned and cradled her face in his hands. "Baby? What is it?"

  Their eyes met again, and the smile that spread over her face could only be described as joyous, if not slightly angelic, because that's just how Josie looked. Like an angel. His angel. He'd always thought so.

  "Tristan," she said, "I'm pregnant."

  At first, he wasn't sure he'd heard her right. Pregnant? How could she be pregnant? He hadn't had a calling. He had never had a calling. So wasn't it impossible for her to be pregnant? Obviously he had misheard her, but the expectant, heartwarming expression on her face said otherwise.

  "But…how?" His brain resisted accepting the news, even though he desperately wanted to believe it.

  Josie's soft, giddy laughter tickled his ears. "I don't know, Tristan, but I'm pregnant."

  "But I haven't had a calling," he said quietly, dismayed. "How—?" He blinked rapidly, eyes flitting blindly around the room as if he was searching for a more logical explanation.

  "I know, but…" Josie leaped out of bed and rushed to the bathroom. When she returned, she held two white sticks. Pregnancy tests. She shoved them in front of him. "Look!"

  Tristan gingerly plucked the plastic sticks from her fingers and stared at them, stunned. "I don't know what I'm looking for." Two pink lines in a small window stared back at him from one, and a blue plus sign was displayed on the other. Okay, so he got the second one. Positive. But the first…?

  Josie pointed. "Two lines means pregnant." Then she pointed to the other one. "This one…well, it's a plus sign, which means positive."

  Tristan had resigned himself a long time ago to the idea that he and Josie would never have children, but in his hands, he now held evidence to the contrary.

  When he lifted his gaze to hers, she beamed. Literally beamed as if she'd never been so happy. More than likely, she had gone through the same disbelief and denial he was going through now when she viewed her test results earlier, but after the realization finally sunk in, to learn she was pregnant had probably sent her to the moon.

  For a heartbeat, Tristan held his breath and searched her eyes for any hesitance, and then he couldn't wait any longer. He had to know for himself. He couldn't rely on these human tests to tell him what he could prove with his own hands. In a rush of excitement, he dropped the two white sticks on the bed and planted one palm against her lower belly as he pulled her closer with his other arm. He might not have had his calling, but that didn't mean he wouldn't be able to feel the energy of a tiny, new life growing inside Josie's womb.

  Closing his eyes, he concentrated on Josie's breath, wound his essence inside her energy, felt her heartbeat, and dove deeper. From within Josie's life signature, another much smaller one emerged. A tiny ball of tightly bound energy swirled within her, distinct and separate, but still a part of her. And he felt his own signature mingled within the new. His child. That was his unborn son or daughter inside Josie's belly.

  "Well?" Josie clutched his shoulders.

  Opening his eyes, he met her gaze. Tears burned and pooled on his lower lids. "So this is why you've been so tired lately." Dumbfounded, he began putting the pieces together. Josie had been unusually tired for over a week, and her breasts were tender. She had complained of that almost two weeks ago. He blinked, and tears dropped to his cheeks.

  "Can you feel it?" She placed her hand over his, and hope sprang from her touch. "Can you feel our baby?" she said quietly, as if she didn't want to breathe for fear he would tell her she had been mistaken…that the pregnancy tests had given a false positive.

  He nodded, his emotions forming a brutal lump in his throat. He had always wanted this. Against all hope, he had always yearned for a child with Josie. "Yes."

  She burst into tears, threw her arms around his head, and hugged his face to her chest.

  Tristan mashed her body to his and held her tightly as em
otions he didn't know he'd been holding for decades gushed from him in heavy sobs. He was going to be a father.

  Chapter 4

  Micah knelt on the roof of his apartment building in downtown Chicago and overlooked the city. Christmas lights blinked from windows, from trees along the street, and in the parks visible from his vantage point. It was a season of joy, but not for Micah. Joy wasn't meant for him, anymore. It hadn't been for a long time.

  Dawn was less than an hour from breaking, but he had no desire to escape to the safety and warmth of his apartment on the eighteenth floor. Jackson wasn't there, so all that waited for him was loneliness and silence.

  How had he formed a bond to Jackson when the guy hadn't formed a bond back? This wasn't how mating worked, if what he had with Jackson could even be called a mating. Case in point, he had never had a calling with Jackson, at least not a "normal" one. Sure, he'd said he did, and he had been all over Jackson those first few days, but what he had felt had been nothing like what he'd felt with Katarina. But it wasn't just that. His feelings for Jackson felt misdirected in some way, as if they had been meant for someone else. If that was the case, then why had they manifested with Jackson? Still, he knew what he knew, and for all intents and purposes, he was a mated male. Maybe in his own way, but whether for right or wrong, normal or not, he had mated Jackson.

  But then Micah was an enigma…a fucking anomaly. Nothing about him was right or normal. He was cursed with misfortune and pain. Always had been, always would be. Nothing about Micah was the way it "should" be or the way it was for other vampires, but he had learned to deal with his odd divergence centuries ago. Jackson not requiting the bond between them was just one more piece of proof of how different he was.

  Micah had found requited love once. Nearly a thousand years ago he had mated Katarina. Beautiful, raven-haired Katarina. He had loved her from youth, smitten with her practically from the moment he could walk. Micah had known from a young age he would mate her when he transitioned, and just as he had preordained, after he returned home from the war, he did just that. She had been at the celebration for his return, and the moment he saw her, the mating link began to form.