Elusive

by L. A. Fiore

  He lowered his head; his tongue traced my lips that parted in welcome. He tasted me. Hungry for him, I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled him down to me as my tongue explored his mouth, tasting every inch. This was no dream.

  His hands moved down my body to my thighs where he spread me wide and settled himself between them. His cock rubbed up against my soaked panties, my hips moving into him as little spasms sent delicious chills racing down my legs. His fingers curled around my panties and he pulled them from my legs, his lips following his hands. Watching as he moved back up my body, his hands on the inside of my thighs, his thumb brushing the curls between my legs, I bit my lip and lifted my hips in invitation. He spread me, his focus on the little bundle of nerves. My hips jerked off the bed when his tongue touched me there. His whiskers felt incredible. He played, teasing me until I squirmed under his touch. He dragged his tongue through my folds and pushed into me. I came on a cry. He ate me as I writhed under him in the throes of the most incredible orgasm of my life.

  I was depleted when the orgasm subsided. He shifted and reached for his jeans. He rolled the condom on, watched me as he slid his hand up and down his shaft. I reached for the sac between his legs, his eyes closed on a moan. He shifted, lifted my hips and pulled me onto his cock. It hurt, in a really freaking good way. My back arched, his mouth found my breast, his tongue teasing my nipple as he moved in and out of me in deep, hard thrusts. He pulled out of me, flipped me onto my stomach, lifted my ass and slammed into me again. His hand moved between my legs and he pinched my clit. I didn’t think I would come again, but the friction of his cock, the pace he set, his fingers between my legs, I came even harder than the first orgasm. He came seconds later when he sank in deep and stilled. I felt his cock twitch. I looked back at him. He looked dangerous and sexy.

  “Are you really here?”

  “Are you dreaming about me, beautiful?”

  “Yes.”

  “Dreaming about what?”

  “What we just did.”

  “Yeah?”

  He pulled from me and removed the condom, tied it off and tossed it on the floor. He then sat there on his knees, palmed his cock and stroked himself. Watching him, the tip of his cock disappearing in his wide hand was so hot. His eyes never left me so I saw the pleasure he was giving himself. But it should be me. I crawled to him and he shifted as I pushed him to his back. I gripped his cock at the base and closed my mouth around it.

  “Fuck, yeah,” he growled.

  I was never big on blow jobs, but I was so wet as I took him deep into my throat.

  “Give me your pussy,” he demanded. His hands wrapped around my waist and he lifted me, swinging my hips around and pulling me down onto his mouth, impaling me on his tongue.

  He lost my mouth as I moaned in pleasure, my hips rocking into his rhythm.

  I lost his mouth when he demanded, “Mouth.”

  I grinned but I gave him my mouth, took him deep and sucked hard. He returned the gesture and feasted on me like a hungry man. We came together.

  He shifted, flipping me onto my back. My eyes were growing heavy. He had literally fucked me to exhaustion. His smile was definitely wicked. “There’s no time for sleep, beautiful. We’re just getting started.”

  KACE

  I felt drunk. My fucking legs were weak and my heart was pounding. I stumbled down the hall, my hand against the wall to keep myself upright. I had never experienced anything like it, and not just the sex. I didn’t know her, but she was in my blood…my bones. I had a good life now, drifting from one place to the next with no destination in mind. Never thought I would want the picket fence, a place to call home, someone waiting for me, but for the first time in my life I saw the appeal. Was it possible for someone like me, a thief, to find happiness in one place with one woman? I was surprised at how much I wanted to find out.

  My phone buzzed. I had taken Willow’s number. She didn’t have her phone password protected. I would have to warn her about people like me that could learn everything they wanted about her through her phone. I smiled because I was going to enjoy that conversation, especially if we were naked and in bed at the time. It wasn’t Willow, it was Snake.

  “Snake, where are you?”

  “We have a small problem.”

  Reality was like a nasty fucking punch to the face. Snake saying we had a problem meant it was more than a problem.

  “Where are you?”

  “Rascals.”

  The place from last night. Shit. “I’m on my way.”

  I called Zeke; he had taken a tourist back to her room on the ship. “I hope you haven’t settled in for the night because we’ve got to get off.”

  “I’m about to get off. I’m balls deep, man.”

  Only Zeke would take a call during a fuck.

  “Where are the twins?”

  “Hacking into the reservation database to get us rooms on the ship last I heard.” We needed a ride back to the States, catching one on the ship with Willow seemed as good an option as any, actually better because that gave me more time with her.

  “Snake needs us. He’s at Rascals.”

  Zeke knew what that meant when he said, “I’ll call the twins and let them know we aren’t onboard. I’ll meet you on the dock.”

  Rascals looked different when we stepped through the doors. The place was empty except for Snake sitting on a chair surrounded by four guys. The moron from last night, sporting two black eyes and a broken nose, sat across from another man in a booth, an older, more distinguished gentleman but definitely a familial relation. The older man was swirling the amber-colored whiskey around in his glass. He either owned the place or he paid the owner to clear it out. Fucking rich people.

  “I’m so glad you could join us.”

  He stood, a remarkable feat considering how tightly he was shoved in that booth.

  “Jasen, my nephew, is a bit of an imbecile, but he is family. Last night he was disrespected when you and yours decided to get involved in his business. I understand you are guests here and may not appreciate how things are. Nothing happens here that I don’t know about.”

  “Well then, you know your nephew was manhandling a dancer, getting too rough with her because she wouldn’t service him.”

  His cold eyes landed on me. “Servicing him is what she is paid to do.”

  “No, she’s paid to dance. If your nephew wants to fuck, he should pay for a whore. You have to know some because with a face like that, you aren’t getting it for free.”

  He stepped closer. “For a man in your position you have an awfully big mouth.”

  “What position? Being in a room with wannabe gangsters having a who has a bigger dick competition because fat boy over there wanted to poke his wiener in some dancer and couldn’t take no for an answer.” I glared at the whiny motherfucker. He couldn’t even look at me. “You ever fuck a woman fat boy, or do you just jack off? By the calluses on your hand, I’m guessing it’s the latter and you do it often, don’t you?”

  The man pulled a gun. It wasn’t fear I felt, but rage. Here was yet another jackass in a long line of jackasses who got off on wielding his power over others. Snake had been right to punch his nephew; however, he was prepared to kill us all to prove his cock was bigger. The same shit just a different fucking country.

  “There are those of us who bend the world to their will and those who get bent,” he sneered. “Which do you think you are? Isaac, show our guests what happens when you disrespect me.” Isaac pulled a knife. Reality was a vicious punch to the gut. For a fleeting moment I had dared to dream for a connection like the one Mr. Travers had with his wife...to reach for something more, something better. Like an angel who could cry when looking at a pile of rocks or touching an old book. What I hadn’t realized was reaching for that something good came at a price. She wouldn’t be pulling me from the ugly; I would be pulling her into it. Guys like me didn’t get dreams, we lived in nightmares. I had been straddling the line, but it was time to pick a
side. I took a moment to think of her, pure and beautiful and for just a few hours...mine. Then I picked a side.

  Isaac sank the blade into Snake’s shoulder, right through the muscle. “I’m going to carve you up so when you see yourself you’ll remember me.” The look in his eyes told me he wasn’t doing this for his boss. He got off on it, relished in causing fear and pain. In a fight, you had to know your opponent and these fuckers didn’t know us.

  Zeke and I attacked and they weren’t prepared because they arrogantly believed we wouldn’t fight back. I knocked the gun from the boss’ hand then punched him in the face. He went down like a ton of bricks. I turned for Isaac while Zeke handled the others.

  Isaac charged, but when you cut your teeth fighting bullies, the moves were instinctual. I deflected him and used his own momentum against him. He stumbled to the floor and I lunged. Grabbing for the knife, I kneed him in the back and yanked his head back. I used his own knife when I cut him from his chin up to his forehead. “Now every time you look in the mirror you’ll remember me.”

  A shot fired, jerking us around to see the boss had recovered, but his nose was broken. He touched it gingerly before he leveled the gun at me. “You’ll die for this.”

  I didn’t even see Zeke move, one minute he was next to me, the next he was behind the boss breaking the arm holding the gun. He howled in pain and dropped to his knees.

  “Don’t kill me.”

  Zeke, Snake and I had matching looks of surprise and disgust at how easily this fuckwad caved. And he thought he was a gangster. He fumbled in his pocket and pulled out a set of keys. “I have a yacht at the docks. Take it, it’s yours.”

  Zeke handed me the gun.

  “Please don’t kill me. I’ll give you anything.”

  “There are some people who bend the world to their will and then there are those who get bent. Can you guess which one you are?” I looked him right in the eyes when I killed him. In that moment, I stopped living in nightmares; I became the nightmare.

  “Where’s the nephew?” Snake asked as he held his arm close to his chest.

  “We need to get you to a hospital.”

  “I’m fine. I just need a drink and some bandages. I wish I could see that fat fuck’s face when he sees what we left him. Whiny little bitch fled. He lit the match then scurried off to hide. We should have fucking put a bullet in his brain too.”

  Yeah we should have because thanks to him when the cruise ship pulled out early the next morning, I wasn’t on it.

  WILLOW

  I woke in the morning after the most intense night of my life. I ached in places I hadn’t ached in a while. I smelled him; his scent was all over me. And then I saw the condoms, four of them on the floor. I should have felt alarmed, maybe even scared. How had he known where I was? How had he gotten onboard? Instead, I felt incredible. I felt alive.

  I climbed from bed and caught a glance of my naked body in the mirror. My skin was red from his beard, my lips swollen; there was even a bite mark on my breast. Then I saw the book on the bedside table. My heart raced as I reached for it. The journal, the one I had wanted that cost too much. He had bought me the journal. Or maybe, he had stolen it. I couldn’t find it in me to be upset because it was the sweetest gesture I had ever been on the receiving end of. A note slipped out.

  I’ll see you again.

  I hoped so. It was only after I had showered and dressed that I noticed my necklace was gone. The doubloon Harry had given me. Kace took it. I liked that he took it. I liked that wherever he went he had a little piece of me with him. Maybe not what Granddad had in mind, but I definitely had been reckless and happy.

  TWO WEEKS LATER

  “Do you want to tell me about him?” I hadn’t heard Granddad approach. I was sitting at the window seat in his house looking out at the ocean. The thick wool carpet muted the sound of his cane. He settled next to me on the window seat.

  “Who?” I asked.

  “The man who has put that look on your face.”

  I should feel embarrassed, particularly since I didn’t know very much about Kace. His face had been concealed under all those whiskers and his eyes behind those shades. Outside of knowing he had blue eyes, I honestly didn’t know what his face looked like. It was shocking to admit that I couldn’t even pick him out of a lineup. Well, if he was naked and I got to touch his body I’d know him.

  “I don’t know much about him.”

  “Understandable, a week is not a lot of time to get to know someone. What do you know about him?”

  “His name is Kace. He’s daring and reckless and fearless.”

  “What does Kace do?”

  “Don’t get mad?”

  “Okay.”

  “He’s a thief.”

  Anger flashed over his beloved face. “Did he steal from you?”

  Maybe a little piece of my heart. “No.”

  His exhale sounded painful. “I did tell you to be daring and reckless. You’ve always been a good judge of character so I’m guessing there was more to him than what he does. Do you intend to see him again?”

  “I think ours was a onetime thing.”

  “I like seeing that look on your face. You’re happy.”

  I was happy. I might never see him again, but I would always remember him and that was enough.

  “I’m thinking of taking down The Kiss.”

  My head jerked to Granddad. “No.”

  “I think I must. It will look so much nicer on a wall in your house.”

  My jaw dropped. “Are you serious?”

  “You love that painting. I want you to have it.”

  “It’s part of your personal collection?”

  “Yes, and now it can be the start of your own collection.”

  I threw my arms around him. “I love you.”

  “Love you back.”

  “This is fascinating. And if it is real...” Mr. Tuttleman let that thought hang in the air. He was as fascinated with the journal as I was and not just for its historical significance. There was a treasure referenced in the journal. How fitting that I was given a treasure map of sorts by a pirate.

  “I’ll finish deciphering this, but Willow, if we can prove this is real we could be looking at the find of the decade.”

  The journal was written in a Spanish dialect. Mr. Tuttleman and my granddad were both fluent in several languages.

  “If she is real, I want to be on the team that brings her up.”

  He looked how I felt, the treasure hunter gleam burned in his eyes. “It would be amazing to hold her, touch her. I bet she’s magnificent.”

  “Let’s find out.”

  “I want to set your expectations, Willow. Proving Alejandro existed and finding remaining family is one thing. Backtracking his last moves is going to be harder. The information we seek won’t be something we find on the Internet.”

  “So, like finding a needle in a haystack.”

  “I think it would be easier to find a needle in a haystack. Put it this way. I take you to an old graveyard and point at a stone and ask you to find me that person’s life story, all of it including how he or she died, where and who was with him or her. And you can’t use the Internet to do your search. Even that would be easier because most cemeteries around here don’t date back to the late 1700s and our subject had lived in this country. Alejandro lived in Spain.”

  I hadn’t thought of that but he was right. Alejandro wasn’t a popular figure from history, he was just a man who had lived, loved and died in a time well before computers. “But we can try.” Even I heard the hope in my voice.

  “Yes, we can try.”

  Mr. Tuttleman had fully deciphered the journal and to my joy it was a romantic tale, a sad one but still beautiful. Alejandro Ramos and his young wife Isabella, a true love match that ended too soon when his ship had sunk on a return trip from the New World to Spain.

  Our first step toward determining if the treasure was real was verifying that Alejandro Ramos really existed. It was
possible the journal was fiction penned by a hopeless romantic like me. Mr. Tuttleman had been a curator for forty years so he had a long list of contacts, chronicles and journals to reference. He had found Alejandro and his young wife Isabella through one of these. As I sat on my bench and studied my painting, the fanciful part of me thought of Kace when I thought of Alejandro. Ours was a beautiful story, short and fleeting, but beautiful. Hundreds of years from now, maybe some young girl will stumble on my journals, my wishes scripted out on paper and experience the same pull to tell our story as I had to tell Alejandro’s and Isabella’s.

  I heard Grandfather before he joined me on the bench. “A penny for your thoughts?”

  “Mr. Tuttleman proved that Alejandro and Isabella from my journal are real.”

  “Really? How fascinating.”

  “He also found a direct descendant to Isabella. She’s seventy-three, a great, great...how many times granddaughter of Isabella and the man she married after Alejandro.” I turned my head to see Granddad was studying me not the painting. “I want to talk to her.”

  “Of course you do.”

  I hadn’t expected him to agree so easily. “You don’t think I’m being creepy?”

  “Look around you, Willow. I have spent my life in this museum piecing together the stories of the past. Your parents travel the world chasing those stories. You had one dropped in your lap. Of course you’re going to want to learn the story. You’re a Blakeley. Have you contacted this woman?”

  “Not yet and if she doesn’t want to see me, I’ll respect that.”

  “And if she does?”

  I tried for sheepish when I said, “I’m going to miss a little work and will need money for a trip to Spain.”

  He had no reaction for a second before he threw his head back and laughed. “Done.” Granddad then turned serious. “The man who gave you this journal you said was a thief. Is there any chance he’ll come back for it when he learns there’s a treasure?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “What was his name?”

  I pulled my focus from the painting and turned it on Granddad. “Why do you ask?”