Romancing the Recluse

by Michelle M. Pillow

  Okay, why did that tone make her feel like she was in second grade? Samantha smiled and nodded her head. She knew what was coming. It was as clear as the look of pompous annoyance on Mrs. Gladhouser’s face. She was about to get fired.

  Ever since she’d lost her job at the American Museum of Natural History thanks to Dr. Fredrick, a predominant scientist, she couldn’t seem to hold down a job. She was distracted and lacked focus. Well, to be fair, it really didn’t help that Dr. Fredrick was also her ex-boyfriend. She’d lost both man and job in one day. Not that she cared about the man part as much as she felt like she was losing one of her true friends. Remaining friends after a break-up was always a tricky process—one she’d yet to master.

  Every relationship has its problems, Samantha. Do people even realize how hard it is to find a man in New York who can see beyond my money? Especially as much money as I have?

  Fredrick was one of the first guys she’d ever met who saw past her fortune. In fact, he was so distracted by work that he often saw past her. Was being ignored worse than being alone? Samantha wasn’t sure she knew the answer to that. At least with Fredrick, she’d had a warm body in the next room and a sense of companionship. He’d been safe, didn’t challenge her too much, didn’t make her heart all achy with longing.

  But you didn’t love him, reason answered. And what is life without love?

  “Ms. Egan,” Mrs. Gladhouser said, drawing her attention back to the situation at hand. Samantha shut the office door, wanting nothing more than to run away. The woman’s schoolmarm expression was more than she could bear at the moment. “Do you honestly think the patient is going to wait around long enough to administer CPR on themselves?”

  “Let me save you the speech,” Samantha said in dejection. “I’m fired. I know I’m fired. You know I’m fired. The people in the classroom know I’m fired.”

  “Ms. Egan, we are a volunteer group. We don’t fire people. We simply no longer require their volunteer services.”

  Samantha bit her lip. She was being fired from a non-paying job. It would seem she couldn’t even give her work away. “Well, I want to thank you for the opportunity, Mrs. Gladhouser.”

  “Mmm,” was all the woman managed to answer as she shuffled papers on her desk, refusing to make eye contact as Samantha left the office.

  Samantha stopped to pick up her purse on her way out the door. Hailing a cab, she gave the driver directions to take her from the Upper West Side to the Upper East Side where she had an apartment. The car started rolling down the crowded streets. Manhattan’s tall buildings passed the window as she gazed out, a little dejected by the day’s events.

  Her huge apartment was in one of the turn-of-the-century style buildings. It was the envy of many and she had it all to herself. The wood floors and stone fireplace, the floor-to-ceiling velvet drapes, the elegant furniture—it all sounded so cold to Samantha at the moment. It might be a beautiful home, but to her it was so barren of life. The staff who came to clean it didn’t talk to her and appeared guarded when she tried to talk to them. The best she got out of them was a “yes ma’am, no ma’am”. She would’ve thrown a party, but her friends talked only of themselves to the point she didn’t like seeing them anymore.

  “I need a change,” Samantha said to herself. “A big change.”

  “Excuse me, miss?” the cabdriver asked, looking at her through the rearview mirror. She glanced at him, not really seeing his face, before once more looking out the cab’s window.

  “I said I’ve changed my mind. Drop me off around Central Park instead, please,” Samantha answered. “Anywhere along Museum Mile is fine.”

  “Yes, miss.”

  Samantha sighed, preemptively pulling money out of her purse to pay the man. She loved New York. It was her home. But maybe the time had come to find a new home—a different home.

  The cabdriver pulled the car over and she handed him the money without another word. She knew she over-tipped him, but he had a picture of a young child on his dash and what looked to be a wife. Samantha was a sucker for children.

  Looking around the city street, she saw the driver had listened. She was on Fifth Avenue along Museum Mile, a stretch of museums along the edge of Central Park. This area was always busy and today was no different. People ignored her as she passed, making her feel all the more isolated. Navigating her way through the crowd gathered outside, she kept to herself and avoided making eye contact.

  She made her way around the side of the Metropolitan Museum, strolling aimlessly with no plans as to where she wanted to go and not caring how long she took or where she ended up. The air was chilly and she was glad she wore the sweater. Even for fall, the weather was cold.

  Her legs seemed to move with a will of their own, leading her in a direction her mind didn’t think to go. Before she realized it, she was by Belvedere Castle in the center of the park. Seeing the tower and turrets caused a small pain in her chest. It had been a long time since she’d visited the old castle, even though she lived so close to the park. Her father used to take her to look out over the beautiful landscape. Some of the best views of the city could be seen from its lookout.

  Still feeling as if she was being pulled by an outside force, she walked up the stone steps. She hadn’t visited since the day she’d found out her parents’ plane had gone down over the Atlantic. Their bodies were never found and her life had forever changed that day. A rich heiress, she’d never have to want for money.

  Her mother had been an heiress in her own right whose father, Samantha’s grandfather, had invented a preservative used in most prepackaged foods. Her father had built a small food supply company that was now controlled by a board of directors. They were all nice men and Samantha had gladly relinquished her share of it to them. Her father had trusted them so she had as well. She’d gotten a nice profit for it, which only added to her massive fortune.

  “Daddy,” she whispered. Samantha closed her eyes briefly, shaking as she touched the stone building. “Mom.”

  What am I doing here?

  What am I doing in general? I feel so lost.

  A cool breeze whipped her long hair and she turned, compelled to look around. Along one of the stone ledges a man rested on his back, his leg draped over the side. His dark-brown, chin-length hair was pushed back from his face. Samantha felt her breath catch. He had great features—strong, chiseled, rugged. She glanced around the area, almost expecting to see a camera crew. The man could easily have been a model. A partial growth of facial hair darkened his chin, framing the most incredible lips she’d ever seen on a man. A feeling of peace washed over her as she watched him, as if this was what her legs had led her to see—this man, at this moment, at this special place.

  He was well dressed in black slacks and a tight crimson shirt, but not pretentiously so. She let her eyes roam over his tight form, lingering on the outline of his muscular thigh and delectably sculpted hip. Samantha took a deep breath, feeling a tingle in her stomach that soon sprouted into full-on arousal. Her nipples became hard, sensitive peaks, reminding her that it had been awhile since she’d been laid.

  Who are you?

  Eyeing his firm chest, she paused in her perusal. He didn’t appear to be breathing. Maybe it was the fact that she’d just left the CPR class, but she stared at his chest for a moment to make sure he was all right. A knot formed in her stomach, replacing the sudden wash of desire that had come over her. His chest wasn’t moving.

  Samantha glanced around. There were only a few people on the platform and no one stopped to help the poor man. She looked but didn’t see any police officers that she could call for help. Almost panicked, she hurried forward. Shaking, she reached for his chest, letting her fingers hover over where his heart was without touching him. The platform was quiet—suddenly too quiet. Everyone had disappeared and she was alone with him. She had little time to wonder where everyone had gone as she lightly touched his arm.

  “Sir?”

  He didn’t move.

&
nbsp; “Ah, sir?” She pushed harder. At her shove, his arm fell to the side, lifeless. “Oh, gawd! You’re not breathing, are you?”

  He’s not going to answer you, Samantha.

  Samantha licked her lips, whimpering as she laid her hand on his chest. Her fingers shook as warmth seeped into her hand and she felt a faint heartbeat. His temperature was high for someone out in the cold weather without a sweater. That was something. It appeared that he hadn’t been unconscious long.

  “Okay, sir, just relax. I can do this,” she said, knowing the man probably couldn’t hear her but feeling the need to reassure him nonetheless.

  Oh gawd, Samantha, are you crazy?! Are you really going to do this? Didn’t the book say to use a protective shield between mouths?

  Well, her conscience argued, he doesn’t look like the type of guy to have a weird disease.

  That’s stupid! You can’t tell that by just looking at a person.

  Shut up and save him already!

  Fine.

  Fine!

  “Great, now I’m arguing with myself. I really am insane.”

  Despite the stupidity of it, she couldn’t let the man die. Not when it was within her power to try to save him. Besides, things like AIDS couldn’t be passed through saliva. Then, looking at his still face, so handsome and strong, all thoughts of self-preservation fled her. A desperate need to save his life washed over her and she couldn’t resist it.

  Samantha took a deep breath, pinched the stranger’s nostrils shut and delicately pressed her lips to his to blow air into his lungs. Shaking, she pulled back. She’d forgotten to pull down his chin. Opening his mouth wide, she tried again.

  Don’t die on me, sir. This day has already been bad enough.

  His lips were warm, almost too warm as she breathed air into his lungs. She felt his chest rise beneath her hand. A soft, low moan sounded as she blew a second time. Samantha froze. She didn’t make that noise.

  The man’s eyes popped open. They were a magnificent, soulful dark brown tinged with threads of gold. The color matched his gorgeous hair. Her mouth was pressed tightly against him, open and poised to give him a breath, and her hand was still on his whisker-stubbled jaw.

  Samantha gasped, feeling as if she breathed in his warmth and life. He moaned a second time. The strange sensation of it curled within her and she tried to pull back, but the feel of a hand sliding over her hip just as his tongue reached forward to swipe between her lips stopped her. His palm flexed against her as he curled his fingers along her waist beneath her sweater. Heat shot through her from his light touch and she was too stunned to move.

  He moaned again, a low, throaty sound, and his eyes closed. This time when his tongue thrust, it went deeper into her mouth. His kiss tasted sweet, like warm chocolate. It was Samantha’s turn to moan and she did, running her hand from his jaw into his hair.

  With each stroke of his tongue, the kiss became deeper and more passionate. Pleasure rippled when he touched her, fanning out over her senses until she was mindless to everything but the stranger before her. Fire. Lust. Passion. It all swam in her blood until she was lightheaded and mindless to anything else. Samantha growled as need built inside her and became more aggressive. She gripped his hair tightly in her fingers and sawed her mouth hard against his.

  Destiny, she heard the word whispered in her head, as if put there by an outside force. Fate.

  I don’t care what it is. I just know it’s been way too long since I’ve felt like this. The tip of his tongue flicked really fast, working back and forth along the seam of her mouth. Scratch that. I’ve never felt like this.

  Her pussy spasmed, so wet she could barely keep her hips from grinding in mid-air. Samantha didn’t care that she was in a public place—one of the more famous places in New York—and was about to climb up on top of the ledge and dry hump a complete stranger. The ache in her thighs needed to be assuaged. If he could make her feel like that with just his mouth, she could just imagine the pleasure he’d give her between her legs.

  Would it be terribly wrong for her to take off her pants, straddle his face and demand he pleasure her with his incredible kisses?

  Okay, maybe just a little wrong…

  “Whoa, you two, break it up! This isn’t a peepshow.”

  Samantha barely heard the voice as she continued kissing the stranger. Each brush of his tongue was pure ecstasy. The more she kissed him, the more she wanted to keep kissing him. The chocolate taste she found upon first contact only seemed to get sweeter and stronger, as if he secreted a special aphrodisiac with the sole purpose of driving her wild.

  This is crazy.

  “Uh-hem!” the voice said again. The sound was followed by a throat being cleared.

  Samantha blinked, just then realizing that the man had his hand thrust all the way up her sweater and her naked back was exposed to anyone who would happen by. He was massaging her breast through her lacy bra with such fervor that she wondered why she hadn’t noticed before this moment. Her whole body had been centered on his perfect kiss.

  “I hate to break up your little party, but you two can’t do this here,” the man’s voice continued, breaking further into the fog of her senses.

  With a jolt of surprise, Samantha pulled back. Her pussy clamped down on itself, her clit actually throbbing with the need for stimulation. Stinging with protest, her body missed the feel of the man’s heat as she stood and turned to see who was speaking to her. From the corner of her eye, she saw her would-be lover roll to sitting on the ledge, his perfect form moving with grace and ease.

  It took a moment, but Samantha focused on the uniformed police officer. He waited, hands on hips, his eyes narrowed in what could have been annoyance or just plain boredom. She wasn’t sure. His gaze traveled over her attire and she watched him subtly shift his weight back and forth.

  Oh, gawd, I’m going to get arrested! What was I thinking? This will be all over the papers. The city loves it when there’s a scandal involving the rich!

  “I was just giving him CPR.” As soon as her words were out, Samantha knew that she sounded like an idiot. Their embrace might have started that way, but it sure as heck didn’t end like that. Still tasting his kiss on her mouth, she knew she’d gone from saving him to attacking him. Though he hadn’t really been protesting it.

  “Well, I think he’s breathing just fine now, ma’am.” The police officer chuckled, his voice softening some as he continued, “Hey, why don’t you run along, miss? You two go find yourself a nice, private, legal place to continue with your…ah…CPR. All right?”

  “Yes, sir, will do,” Samantha whispered, horrified. What in the world had come over her? She glanced at the stranger she’d been kissing. He smiled, his lip curling up at the side in a way that would melt any woman’s resolve. Still talking to the cop, she said, “Thank you, sir. I will, sir.”

  The cop grinned, chuckling louder.

  Samantha pulled her eyes away from the handsome stranger she’d just assaulted with her mouth. Unable to face him, she nodded at the officer and quickly turned to run home. What in the world had she done? Sane people didn’t grab complete strangers in the middle of the park and start going at it. Samantha ran faster. After this, she might never leave her apartment again.

  Chapter 3

  Viktor didn’t speak as he watched the lush redhead run away from him. Her long, wavy hair blew in the breeze. The locks nearly reached her round, tight ass. He suppressed a groan, eyeing the way her hips swayed under her tight pants. His cock was so hard and full he thought it might explode if he did so much as try to walk.

  He could barely move due to the heightened state of arousal she’d left him in, plus the fact that he hadn’t had sex for nearly a hundred years. The urge to capture her and fly away with her was strong—almost too strong. Already he wanted her and if he got her, there would be no one to stop him from ramming her cunt so full that she would have no choice but to submit to him completely. When he kissed her, he hadn’t meant to release risb
rosius. It was the natural aphrodisiac his species carried, but her kiss had taken him by surprise and his body had just reacted on instinct to the intimate contact.

  The aphrodisiac was just that, a potent aphrodisiac. One drop of it on the skin or lips could turn the most refined lady into a whore. Thankfully, all Dracodomus lived by a code of honor and they never took an unwilling woman by drugging them. It was merely to enhance the pleasure and to ease any pain they might feel at taking in his kind’s large erection—especially when they’d gone as long as he had without sex.

  The need inside him was so strong, he was almost violent with it. He wanted to be a gentle lover, but when she responded the way she had—so willing and eager—how could he think of anything but claiming her pussy for his own?

  “If I had a girlfriend who looked like that, buddy, I wouldn’t just let her walk away,” the lawman said. Viktor nodded at him before turning to watch the redhead once more.

  Viktor mumbled an answer under his breath in his native language. No humans spoke the ancient dragon dialects anymore—although French, Greek and Latin derived from the dragon-tongue.

  His gut tight. Did he go after her to slake the desires of his body and pray that she could also slake the desires of his heart? Or did fear win? Did he stay where he was and fight the passion between them? Did he play it safe and wait for another sign to hit him across the forehead like a brick?

  “Excuse me?” the man asked.

  His voice thick with his need to swoop in and capture the woman, Viktor absently translated his words, “Fortune favors the brave.”

  “Ah, she’s one of those,” the man said knowingly. Viktor had no idea what the lawman was going on about.

  Was this the woman the fates had sent him for? Was she his mate? Did she know it as well? If she did, it was clear she accepted him and what he was to her. Why else would she kiss him like that? By the nearly pure smell of her, he wouldn’t guess she was promiscuous by nature. Had she dreamed of him as well?