She looked for a moment almost otherworldly, a dream of a woman instead of flesh and blood. Insubstantial, as if she could float right away at any moment. But she wasn’t insubstantial. Joe had been inside her. He’d kissed almost every inch of her and if there were a few square inches left unkissed he had every intention of making up for it tonight.

“Show me,” he said again, his voice insistent.

“How?”

He took in a deep breath. “Open your legs.”

Watching him, she widened her stance. At some point in her life she must have taken ballet lessons because she lifted one foot, pointed her toes, then gracefully placed it back on the ground.

“I know how to show you,” she said, her voice a breathless whisper in the quiet darkness. With her free hand, she reached down and opened herself, to show how she glistened. She was wet. For him.

Reaching with her index finger, she slid it between the folds, then lifted it so he could see. Even in the semidarkness, he could see that her finger was coated with moisture.

The hand that held her bunched nightgown moved upward and she pulled the gown over her head and tossed it to one side. The gesture lifted her honey hair and it settled back down around her shoulders, crackling with electricity.

It was time. Isabel recognized that as she stepped to the bed. At the last minute, when she was ready to climb in beside him, Joe lifted her up and over him, settling her down on top of him.

He’d run out of time.

Feeling her against him nearly set him off. She smelled and felt so damned good. Instinctively she’d opened her legs, kneeling along his thighs, her sex open and hot over his cock.

Joe groaned. He brought her face down to his with a hand cupped over the back of her head and opened her up with the fingers of his other hand. Feeling himself at her rim was simply too much. He kissed her hard as he thrust up into her, seating himself fully inside her with a grunt.

He felt her cry against his mouth and pulled her head back half an inch. “Did I hurt you?” he said, his voice guttural. It seemed to come from his stomach instead of his throat.

Isabel opened her eyes, stared down into his. She was panting, her breath washing across his face in hot waves. Her face—he couldn’t read that expression. It was pained, but not pain. All of a sudden it was as if she turned inward, frowning, her shoulders turned inward and he was about to pull out when she gave a cry and fell forward onto his chest, fingers digging in deep, writhing around him.

She was coming.

Her sex was milking him hard. There was absolutely nothing in him that could resist her. Lunging upward hard, he came, too, in long painful spurts so intense they almost made him black out. He didn’t even thrust, just kept himself deep inside her as she moved against him, clutching him with her arms and thighs.

Finally, finally he stopped, completely wrung out, holding her tightly to him. He was breathing hard, bathed in sweat that plastered them together. Isabel’s hair fell in tumbling curls over his shoulder, caught on his stubble, a lock crossed his forehead. He shifted it away, savoring the softness, that subtle smell of a sweet shampoo.

Was he hurting her? Was he holding on to her too tightly? Probably. He gave his arms the command to let go but there was a kind of communications breakdown and his arms remained tightly wound around her. He had to give himself orders, like an instructor to a trainee, a newb.

Right arm, pull away.

Except his right arm was comfortable and happy where it was, arm crossing Isabel’s back, hand resting lightly on her firm butt.

Right arm, pull away NOW!!

With a sigh, Joe obeyed himself. He didn’t exactly pull it away so much as loosen his grip. Because not being in touch with all that soft satiny skin seemed insane. Why would he do that?

Because you might be hurting Isabel, fuckhead, was the reply.

He loosened his left arm, too, just a little. He was embracing her now, not clutching her. He wanted to be on her good side because, well...he tested her. Moving his dick in her gently, thrusting maybe an inch in and out.

Oh man. His juices and hers. She was soft and completely welcoming. Oh yeah. Because in a minute or two, Joe was going to be ready for round two. Or, considering that round one hadn’t exactly been a masterwork of style, technique and stamina, round one and a half. At the thought of sex with her again, he hardened.

This was going to be better than the last time. She was a little less tight, softer, wetter. Joe nudged inside her again. Oh man...

But she wasn’t responding. She was lying on him, breathing calmly. Joe couldn’t breathe calmly, not while in Isabel. Then he heard a weird sound coming from her. He pulled his head back, swiped her hair away from her face and grinned.

She was fast asleep. Out cold, actually. Not even a flicker of those thick eyelashes. That luscious mouth was slightly open and a ladylike little snore escaped from it.

So. No more sex. Not right now, anyway. He couldn’t bear the thought of disturbing her sleep. She’d often said that she had trouble sleeping.

Carefully, carefully, Joe withdrew from her body, edged her gently over so she was nestled against him, head on his shoulder, and pulled the covers up over her shoulders.

He lay back and studied the dark ceiling, wondering how far gone he was when lying in bed next to a woman he wanted more than his next breath, with a hard-on that could hammer nails, developing blue balls—and just holding her was better than sex with any other woman.

* * *

An air of evil in the room, so strong it was almost a stench.People all around, happy, popping with joy, dancing to the celebratory music.Smiling, smiling.Couldn’t they feel it?Couldn’t they feel the darkness like smoke swirling around the room?

She looked around, trying to warn everyone.Most of them were familiar faces though she couldn’t put any names to them.They didn’t stick around long enough for her to identify them.They’d dance close to her then twirl away.She’d reach out but they swirled out of her grasp the instant she opened her hand.

Everybody moving, moving.Only she stood stock-still in the room as the shadows in the corners filled it.Wisps of darkness coalescing, wrapping itself around the clueless partygoers.

She screamed and no one listened. They were having too good a time.

The music was so loud she couldn’t hear herself think, couldn’t make herself heard by anyone, not even those close by.

Someone danced close to her, grabbed her by the waist, twirled her.It made her dizzy and unsteady.She had to watch her feet so she wouldn’t fall over.When she lifted her eyes she saw HIM.

Always him, always watching her, always just out of reach.

She caught a glimpse of his face but then he disappeared again.He was somewhere in the room, elusive and mocking.Aviper in human form and oh so dangerous.Why couldn’t anyone else see it, feel it?She could feel him so vividly, though she couldn’t see him.

She saw him every night in her dreams.In her nightmares.No matter how the dream started, it ended as a nightmare.Always lots of happy people, celebrating, with a hidden monster lurking at the edges.And yet nobody noticed, nobody cared.

Every night she struggled to make her voice heard above the noise, to warn the happy people what was coming.

Every night she failed.