5

Chapter Four

Carmella flipped the towel from her body, dropping it carelessly on the chair beside the bed as she feigned ignorance of the presence. She kept the shields around her own powers carefully in place, hiding her knowledge of the watcher as well as the strength of her psychic talents.

Bad girl. The amused chiding in Torren’s voice at her display had her fighting a grin. You always were a bit of an exhibitionist, weren’t you, baby? His arousal filled the connecting thought.

It surprised her, the dark undercurrents flowing through the connection. There was no jealousy, as she would have expected, only heat, approval. Arousal.

Naked, she moved to the bed, lying back on the soft mattress as she stared up at the ceiling.

Feels like the bastard from the bar earlier, she mused, knowing Torren was listening closely. He’s powerful, whoever he is.

There was no answer forthcoming, as though he too were considering the uninvited visitor.

For a second, as her gaze had connected with the stranger, she had sensed a power in him, a hidden well of strength that aroused her curiosity and more.

He made you horny, Torren accused her with a thread of laughter. Be honest, Carmella, he made you wet.

She sent him the impression of her silent snort. It’s not like you’ve been of any use to me lately. Too busy chasing after blonde bimbos.

Blonde bimbos can be a nice diversion. But I didn’t fuck her, baby. I just wasn’t fucking you.

She didn’t like his tone, or the information. It hurt to realize his desire for her was fading. She hadn’t expected that. But then again, she hadn’t expected to be hit so quickly with her own lust for another man. She hastily censored her thoughts from the man who had been her lover, unwilling that he would know the innermost part of her longings. Longings she had never shared with anyone.

She had gotten close several times. Torren had nearly brought her to the release she needed once or twice when his fury with her had overwhelmed his consideration. But close didn’t count except in battle.

The stranger at the bar had been powerful. Physically, at least, with a glimmer of carnal knowledge glowing in the blue eyes that had watched her across the room. Tall, strong, and if he was by chance psychic, then that physical power could be greater than normal. Enough to hold her down. Enough to thrust inside her with a strength and power that could ultimately push her over the edge. Maybe.

She sighed softly. She had never gone over the edge, so she had no idea what it would take to push her there. At five feet six, with a willowy slender body, she just didn’t seem to inspire mindless lust in men. Torren seemed to want to protect her, rather than fuck her mindlessly. Not that the soft kisses and gentle touches weren’t nice at times, but her sexual fantasies little resembled the touches she had received.

Her lips quirked. How surprised he would be to know the sexual fantasies that tormented her body. They were raw, carnal images that came from hearing the rough, sexually explicit descriptions of the acts she had overheard men talking of throughout her life. That and the words from the nearly ancient novels of another time.

She had found the cache of books years before in the hidden basement of a nearly demolished home. Paperbacks so close to falling apart she feared reading them. But once the words had leapt from the front page, she had been ensnared, helplessly caught. She had been as fascinated then as she was now with the excitement of being watched by a presence so strong it could slip past the psychic barriers she had placed around the room.

She had a job to do tomorrow. Wherever the hell Torren was hidden she had to find him so they could get the hell out of there before she was detected by the PSI agents that must surely be looking for her. But that was tomorrow and this was tonight.

Until then, she could play with her psychic Peeping Tom just a little bit. The surge of excitement at the thought of that sent the blood racing through her veins in excitement.

Watch me, she thought, thinking of the watcher as she opened her thoughts to Torren once again. Knowing her lover was “seeing” mentally what she was doing—feeling her arousal—brought a keen edge of excitement to her lust.

Damn. This is a dangerous game you’re playing, little girl, he warned her, but his thought was filled with heated desire.

Enjoy it. She hid her grin from whoever watched. Let me enjoy it.

She closed her eyes, bringing to her mind the image of one of the rougher passages she had re-read not long before.

Her body was sizzling with lust, and though she could have slept while the watcher moved about the room, there was no way she could sleep with the fires of arousal burning in the depths of her pussy the way they were. She would give the bastard something to watch, to wonder about, and give herself the relief she needed to help her rest.

Damn, Carmella. Torren’s curse was one of frustration rather than shock or disgust as the image filled her head.

She settled herself comfortably on the nearly flattened pillow, her hands rising to her already swollen breasts. She drew in a hard breath as her fingers smoothed over the distended peaks. Heat flared through her body, piercing her womb at the touch. She could feel her pussy creaming, soaking the red-gold curls between her thighs as she built the image of the written scene in her mind.

Her thumb and forefinger gripped her distended nipple, and she couldn’t hold back a moan as she pinched it lightly. Then harder. Oh, that was good. Pleasure sang through her bloodstream, pounding through her body.

In her mind’s eye it was the stranger from the bar touching her. Holding her captive against a wall, his powerful body blanketing hers, holding her still as she struggled to escape him. She would have to fight him. Fight to win. She didn’t want a man she knew she could best; she wanted one strong enough to take her down and fuck her mindlessly even as she screamed out in fury.

Fuck! Torren’s fierce, lascivious thought only made her hotter. He was seeing the image she was creating, images she had hidden before.

Torren had been uncomfortable during the few months he had been her lover, when he glimpsed the rioting needs that tormented her body. He was a strong alpha psychic, but he had no desire to assert the darker side of his passions. At least, not with her. She had a feeling the stranger who had watched her earlier would have no such problem.

She bit her lip, forcing back her moan of need as she twisted the hard point of her nipple. Her other hand smoothed over the flat plane of her stomach until it tucked between her thighs. She was wet; so slick and creamy her juices matted the curls that shielded her cunt.

She could feel Torren, still connected with her, watching her, his own arousal sizzling between them now in ways it had only threatened to before. But it was the stranger she saw. His hands touching her, tormenting her.

She imagined him holding her easily as she fought him, his hard body pressing her into the wall, his fingers twisting the tender flesh of her nipple as the fingers of his other hand took possession of her pussy. She arched away from the touch, but he followed her, his fingers sliding easily through the soaked slit to the clenching entrance below.

He wouldn’t allow her satisfaction to come easily. She wouldn’t submit to him without first testing him, pushing him past his own limits of control. And there lay her greatest desire…and her greatest fear.

He would have to take her control with the loss of his own. She didn’t want a man able to maintain his own power, his own desires as she lost hers. She would want him to overpower her because he had no choice. Because his lust for her would be greater than his need to control his own power, physical or psychic. There were few psychics alive with the honor she required that would allow a lifetime of control to vanish for lust alone. But she could dream. And she could imagine such a thing occurring. And imagine she did.

* * * * *

Ryder allowed his astral body to move closer to the bed, for the first time in his life afflicted with such lust, such overwhelming desire, that he could feel it even now, separated from his physical body. His psychic form felt every bit as sensitive, as heated as he would have been if he were physically standing by the bed watching her.

She was a hot little package. Her skin was smooth, creamy, with no betraying blemishes of disease or sickness. Her breasts were full, her stomach flat but by no means undernourished. Her legs were strong, rounded and slowly spreading to accommodate her slender hand as she caressed her wet cunt.

It wasn’t the first time he had watched a woman masturbate, unaware he was in the room with her, but he’d be damned if it wasn’t the most arousing. What was it about Carmella Dansford that tempted his control? And tempt it she did—in a number of ways that surprised Ryder.

As an alpha psychic, there was a part of him—a darkness he had kept hidden most of his life. It was one of the main reasons for the control he had built up over his lifetime. That darkness made him wary, and the desires it produced often made him wonder at his own sense of honor. Until now, no woman had ever strained that honor or the control he valued so highly. He was almost tempted to return to his physical body and wait until morning to contact her. That would have been the wisest course. But lust was never wise, and Ryder was filled with that blistering, foolish emotion in ways he never had been with another woman.

She was laid out before him, ripe and flushed, her breathing hard and deep as she pulled roughly at a hard, reddened nipple, while her fingers worked slowly through the swollen slit of her pussy. She was so fucking wet that the red-gold curls of her cunt glistened with the moisture that saturated them.

Torren, son of a bitch, she’s killing me. It was only with the help of Torren’s mental shield that he was able to hide his identity from her. He had no doubt she knew he was there.

The woman was a damned banquet of carnal delight. Her breasts would fit his hands perfectly, and he’d be damned if he didn’t want to be the one twisting that perfect, hard nipple. He wouldn’t allow her to smother her cries, though. He wanted to hear her screaming with the pleasure and erotic pain he could give her.

Her eyes were closed, her teeth clamped over her lower lip as she held back her cries. Her hips undulated against her fingers as she stroked the hot, wet flesh of her cunt. What was she thinking? What was she imagining? The need to know was driving him insane.

Cover me. I’m going in, he ordered Torren, unable to bear the thought that the other man was experiencing whatever fantasy she had conjured and that he alone was left to merely watch the results. He wanted to see the images filling her imagination—needed to know the key to Carmella’s passions. To do that, he would have to slip past the physical and enter her amazingly complicated mind.

Damn, she might be more than either of us can handle, Ryder. Torren’s thought was a morass of lust, affection and anticipation.

He felt the added strength Torren sent to him as he stepped closer. Entering her mind undetected wouldn’t be nearly as easy as entering her room had been. Her blocks were strong; her mind would be even stronger. But there was always a crack, a weak point. Ryder knew well there was no such thing as an impenetrable mind.