Helene's gargoyle lover rouses her passion. She'll use it—and every spell she knows—to free him from his granite prison.
Two hundred years ago, Allyn du Sainte Dominique was cursed to a granite prison in the form of a gargoyle. It devastated his lover, the powerful witch, Helene Laurent.
The curse is a powerful one invoked by the goddess Helene worships, but with the universe in perfect alignment, Helene has a chance to free him. She'll do whatever it takes and use every ounce of her desire to change him back to the human she once knew. Will Helene's passion and her devotion be strong enough to break the ties that bind him?
Without a second thought, Helene let the satin robe slide off her shoulders and glide to the floor. She moved with purpose, paying no attention to the cool air as it caressed her now nude flesh. Her skin tingled with anticipation, and blood pounded through her veins.
Finally. During the witching hour, at this important time when the sun hadn't yet crested the horizon, her magic for this ritual would reach its peak. It would be another two hundred years before the stars aligned, her hormones swelled, the right herbs bloomed. She would not wait all that time again to see him. Could not.
It was time, once and for all, that she prove to him, to herself and to the universe that she was the powerful witch she knew herself to be.
Now standing before him, Helene's fingers slid between her legs. With a soft sigh of satisfaction, she touched her slick cream. Her tongue darted out to moisten her dry lips. At the same time, Helene scraped a fingernail across her swollen clit. The spark of sensation that bolted out almost made her knees buckle. She grasped a nearby table, so very satisfied with her body's readiness.
So close now.
Her gaze swept over the stone figure. Allyn du Sainte Dominique. Her lover. Her love.
Goddess how she'd missed him.
She ran her gaze over his beauty and took in the stone facade. The curse caught him in the act of squatting, guarding over some unseen object or perhaps her. She reached out to him and stroked his strong jaw. Ran her finger over his lips pulled back in a snarl. The stone tips of his ears, sharpened to a point, should have been repulsive, but in her eyes Allyn was still devastating in his beauty. No curse could take that away.
His well-preserved muscles almost had the illusion of rippling. There was strength in the bunched tone of his thighs. His stomach, so lifelike, looked as if he would take a breath at any moment. The wings on his back and the small horns on his head were part of his curse, but that made no difference. They would be gone when he awoke, and if they weren't, she would find decadent uses for them.
Any moment now...
Between his legs jutted the glorious part of him. His beautiful cock, erect in its proudness, hinted at prurient promises. Long nights of pleasure and fucking. Orgasms that captured her breath and refused to let go.
She knelt before it, her mouth watering at the sight of swollen veins and the flared head, normally soft and crimson in color. The urge to run her tongue through its tip, perhaps taste his saline offering, sent a shudder down her spine. Her natural perfume lifted into the air while a trickle of cream painted the inside of her thigh. She'd spent so many nights, so many hours dreaming of today. Would it be so wrong, so perverse, to find some pleasure in licking him now, even in his petrified state?
Then again, the spell had to begin some place.
