Read Online Stone Solitude by A.C. Warneke - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: A.C. Warneke
Ads: Link
realize that his shoulders weren’t as broad as she had thought they would be given the breadth they had been beneath the cloak. Flicking her eyes to those wonderfully carved shoulders, she almost forgot to breathe when the material twitched and she gasped, “What are you leaving hidden beneath your cloak?”
He was silent for a long moment before he said in a quiet voice, “My wings.”
Wings! The sudden giddiness that he had wings slammed into her and she wanted to see them, to study them and touch them….
“If you keep looking at me like that I might forget that I have no desire to scare you, my little flower,” he growled hoarsely.
Breathing heavily, she managed to drag her eyes away from the gloriously chiseled perfection that was Roman’s chest and asked, “Are you a gargoyle?”
He was quiet for a long moment, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed, the movement mesmerizing. He held himself stiffly as he answered solemnly, “I am.”
At his simple answer, her heart flipped over on itself in excitement. A gargoyle! It was strange that she was writing a paper on gargoyles and one should appear. Or maybe it wasn’t so strange because now that the veil was gone there was far more to the world than met the eye. As she continued staring at him, her lips pulled upwards into a grand smile and a small squeak escaped. “Oh my god that is so cool.”
His body started to relax but then he suddenly stiffened. Lurching forward, he curved his body defensively and let out a low groan of pain. Flying out of her chair, Daisy rushed around the table and put her hand on his shoulder to see if she could help. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s nothing,” he ground out, his voice raspy as he grabbed the cloak and drew it back around his body.
“Obviously it’s not nothing,” she chided, sliding her hand beneath the material and smoothing her hand over the hard planes of his stone chest. The heat took her by surprise and she had to fight the urge to linger when he was in obvious pain.
His hand came over hers, holding her palm against his heavily beating heart. Time slowed down as his clean, moonlit scent filled her head and she wanted to stay there forever with her hand on his chest. Turning his head slightly, careful to keep his face hidden, he rasped, “Let me keep some of my pride, little flower.”
Glancing down, she saw the tip of his penis peeking out from the voluminous folds of his cloak and her eyes widened in surprise and sudden understanding. She tried to jerk her hand away but he held it in place, almost as if he couldn’t let her go. His chest bellowed with each panted breath, his heart pounded in his chest, and she wanted to ease his suffering even if she wasn’t quite certain how.
“Daisy.” His tortured whisper was a caress to her soul, sending a shiver down her spine and making her want to give him more pleasure than any one man – or gargoyle – could stand. He started to pull her hand downwards but abruptly stopped, as if he were fighting against his urge to have her touch him. The image of his beautiful chiseled chest filtered into her head and she wanted to see it again. With her free hand, she pushed the material back over his shoulder and felt the shudder that wracked his hard body.
Catching her lower lip between her teeth, staring at his hand over hers, she murmured, “You’re naked. I mean, underneath your cloak, you’re naked. Were you naked the first time we met, too? Are you always naked?”
A pained groan came from the back of his throat as he managed to give her a single nod. Licking her lips, she waited until he eased his hold on her hand and then she slid her hand lower, over his hard belly. His skin was warm and smooth and hard, like stone that had been heated by the desert sun. But his body wasn’t inflexible like stone. She had watched him move, albeit briefly, and he moved with the carnal grace and fluidity of a man unreservedly comfortable with his body.
Her hand
He was silent for a long moment before he said in a quiet voice, “My wings.”
Wings! The sudden giddiness that he had wings slammed into her and she wanted to see them, to study them and touch them….
“If you keep looking at me like that I might forget that I have no desire to scare you, my little flower,” he growled hoarsely.
Breathing heavily, she managed to drag her eyes away from the gloriously chiseled perfection that was Roman’s chest and asked, “Are you a gargoyle?”
He was quiet for a long moment, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed, the movement mesmerizing. He held himself stiffly as he answered solemnly, “I am.”
At his simple answer, her heart flipped over on itself in excitement. A gargoyle! It was strange that she was writing a paper on gargoyles and one should appear. Or maybe it wasn’t so strange because now that the veil was gone there was far more to the world than met the eye. As she continued staring at him, her lips pulled upwards into a grand smile and a small squeak escaped. “Oh my god that is so cool.”
His body started to relax but then he suddenly stiffened. Lurching forward, he curved his body defensively and let out a low groan of pain. Flying out of her chair, Daisy rushed around the table and put her hand on his shoulder to see if she could help. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s nothing,” he ground out, his voice raspy as he grabbed the cloak and drew it back around his body.
“Obviously it’s not nothing,” she chided, sliding her hand beneath the material and smoothing her hand over the hard planes of his stone chest. The heat took her by surprise and she had to fight the urge to linger when he was in obvious pain.
His hand came over hers, holding her palm against his heavily beating heart. Time slowed down as his clean, moonlit scent filled her head and she wanted to stay there forever with her hand on his chest. Turning his head slightly, careful to keep his face hidden, he rasped, “Let me keep some of my pride, little flower.”
Glancing down, she saw the tip of his penis peeking out from the voluminous folds of his cloak and her eyes widened in surprise and sudden understanding. She tried to jerk her hand away but he held it in place, almost as if he couldn’t let her go. His chest bellowed with each panted breath, his heart pounded in his chest, and she wanted to ease his suffering even if she wasn’t quite certain how.
“Daisy.” His tortured whisper was a caress to her soul, sending a shiver down her spine and making her want to give him more pleasure than any one man – or gargoyle – could stand. He started to pull her hand downwards but abruptly stopped, as if he were fighting against his urge to have her touch him. The image of his beautiful chiseled chest filtered into her head and she wanted to see it again. With her free hand, she pushed the material back over his shoulder and felt the shudder that wracked his hard body.
Catching her lower lip between her teeth, staring at his hand over hers, she murmured, “You’re naked. I mean, underneath your cloak, you’re naked. Were you naked the first time we met, too? Are you always naked?”
A pained groan came from the back of his throat as he managed to give her a single nod. Licking her lips, she waited until he eased his hold on her hand and then she slid her hand lower, over his hard belly. His skin was warm and smooth and hard, like stone that had been heated by the desert sun. But his body wasn’t inflexible like stone. She had watched him move, albeit briefly, and he moved with the carnal grace and fluidity of a man unreservedly comfortable with his body.
Her hand
Similar Books
