by Holly Gunn
Only, I know the truth. Nothing is a coincidence.
“You’ll both be there?” I ask when I’m in the limo, the door halfway shut, my foot stepping out as I double-check.
Eagle’s eyes brighten and he nods.
Grizz grunts but gives me more when he says, “Iz, get your cousin home and get your ass to practice. You can make sure I’ll be there Wednesday when I see you Tuesday night.”
I smile. “Sounds like a plan.”
Aunt Hyacinth has made her way to the other side of the limo.
I lean back and sigh.
Ryn leans back and says, “I need a nap.”
Aunt Hyacinth leans forward and looks at both of us.
She opens her mouth to speak. Closes it. Opens it up again.
Then, she blows out a breath and leans back in the seat as well.
“I learned long ago that a Fire witch needs to save her speeches for when actual fire needs to come out. Blowing smoke and hot air do nothing for the emotional environment.”
“My favorite aunt,” I mutter.
“Don’t let your other aunts hear that.”
I know my aunts, and I shudder at the thought.
The shudder makes me think of Eagle, and that makes me smile.
And that night, my dreams once again feature a future king taking me to the limits of bliss.
7
Eagle
I’ve been fielding calls all day from Eagle tribe shifters.
It’s at once insufferable and also a relief. They know that, in a fair fight, my father will lose.
What’s insufferable is that they’re kissing ass because they know I’m going to win, and I don’t want my people to be as Izzy would call them, Have-nots.
I don’t want my people to be afraid of me. I want them to love me, to respect me, to follow me because I’ve earned their trust.
I hang up angry, though I hold my anger in check during the phone calls. My people need to know their concerns are being heard.
I also hang up because there’s a banging coming from down the hall, as well as laughter, and I want to shout for them to, “Please desist!”
But I’m not a dick, at least not as a rule, and I don’t intend to start being one.
When the laughter reaches me again, I still.
It’s a laugh I know, not well and yet I would recognize that laughter anywhere.
My feet take me to her.
Out my door, down the hall, across to the recording studio exterior that’s not soundproofed.
When I open the door, her eyes come to me and her laughter dies.
I miss it immediately.
The look she gives me is a close second.
She gazes at me as though she’s visually undressing me. Knowing what she thinks of my kind of people, I have to force my chest from puffing out that she’s made an exception to her judgments by giving me a chance. At least, I think she’s giving me a chance, one I’m going to take in hopes that maybe she is right, maybe I won’t have to rule and produce children with a woman like Vera. Perhaps, the fates are not so terrible, and I am worthy of a woman such as Elizabeth.
I haven’t asked her out for a meal as of yet. I plan on asking tomorrow after visiting the House.
“Are we getting far in our practice or are we just playing around like children?” I ask. Good god, I sound like the imbecile I don’t want to be.
“Playing like children,” Snake answers, throwing a few peanuts in the air and catching them with his mouth.
Heavy moves forward, and more seriously adds, “We need a guitarist.”
“I thought you were filling in.”
Heavy shakes his head. “I’m not good enough for this, man. I’ve got the pipes but not to lead, and that position is filled by someone who definitely does have the pipes. But I do not have the skills to keep filling in on the guitar.”
I find myself being contrary. “You do happen to know of a guitarist, though, don’t you, Heavy?”
If Heavy were a growler, I’d say he did so. Instead, it’s more of a drawn-out, “urgh” followed by him saying, “We’ll find another way.”
I don’t know how. We need someone with a great deal of skill. The way he talks of the guitarist he knows, I’d say she’s exactly who we need.
My contrary attitude is brief, however. I will let Heavy deal with this how he needs. That doesn’t mean I’m not worried about our standing gig with The Shinedown.
“The club won’t hold your spot. They let you get away with last week because they know they will never find a voice like yours again, Grizz, but I’m afraid, if you don’t get it together, Shyfter may have to seek other paths.”
I hear drum sticks clash to the set and follow Elizabeth’s movements as she stands. “So that’s it then? We’re giving up?”
“Fuck no!” Snake jumps up from the couch and spits out some peanuts as he does so.
“Dickhead,” Grizz mutters.
Snake doesn’t rise to the bait. He’s focused on Elizabeth. “You sit that very full ass back down on that seat and get back to drumming. I’m going to find us a guitarist and a piano man.”
I don’t comment on Snake saying something about the woman who may be my queen’s bottom.
I do wonder the same as Heavy though, when he asks, “Just like that? I’ve been trying to get our band at full capacity and you think, just like that, you’re getting a piano man and a guitarist.”
Snake challenges him, “If I can get us both, and they can play kickass, and don’t fuck with our vibe, you won’t throw a fit, right?”
Heavy retorts by asking, indignant, “When do I ever throw a fit, man?”
“I’m just checking.”
Snake turns to Grizz. “You either?”
Grizz throws his hands in the air. “When do I ever throw a fit when it comes to the band?”
“When I or Heavy, or anyone, suggests you need to write some originals.” This is me. I do not know where it comes from. Most of the time, I stay out of squabbles until they become more violent.
Grizz turns to me, and I see he wasn’t expecting my comeback.
“I’m not talking about that.”
“Fine,” I reply. To Snake, I add, “Get us a piano man and a guitarist. I’ll put the club off another two weeks, have them make up some drama that will help sell tickets when Shyfter returns, but you’re on that stage two weeks from Friday.” I glance around the room, eyeing each one of my band’s members.
“Righty-o, general,” Snake replies.
He gets on his phone, sends a couple texts, and then says, “Done.”
“Just like that?” Elizabeth asks.
“Just you wait, Vibe. I’ve got magic the likes of which you’ve never seen.”
“Enough,” I snap.
Snake turns to me, smirking.
“Enough of what?” he asks innocently.
“Enough commenting on her bottom and making passes at her.”
“It seems someone should be making passes at her and talking about her bottom.” He says the last with a quick laugh. “Bottom,” he repeats, looking to Heavy and Grizz, who smile and chuckle, respectively.
“Oh, good goddess, give the poor guy a break, dudes. He was in a fight with his dickhead father last night, found out he might have another option for queen.” I’m looking at her, and she turns to me after saying this. “And I’m just going to throw in a plug for me. I may not have shiny, perfect blonde hair but I’m way shinier inside. That woman is a bitch. I bet she’s incredibly icky on the inside.”
I cover my mouth to hide my smile.
She watches the movement and bites the inside of her cheek.
One thing I enjoy about this woman is that her expressions are so varied. She is, although it might sound strange, a predictable enigma.
When my smile fades and I’ve managed to hide it, I nod. “I agree, Elizabeth. I would much rather believe the fates have chosen for me a woman of beauty and quality, such as yourself.”
“A wo
man of quality,” I hear Snake snicker.
Heavy chuckles.
Grizz grunts.
I work in a zoo.
I walk toward her and take a chance, reaching out. We held hands the night before. I have reason to believe she will be receptive to my touch.
One of my hands touches her arm gently.
“We’re good for tomorrow?” I ask to change the subject.
She’s quiet for a moment, then nods. “Yeah, I set it up and let the House know. You’ll get to meet my kids.”
The way she says ‘my kids’, has me watching her pretty red mouth as she smiles. She loves her work. I understand this. I love my work as well. It’s in my wheelhouse, allows me to use my skills in business and furthers my joy because I’m able to help others reach their goals as artists and entertainers.
“It will be a pleasure,” I reply.
She grins.
I watch the grin form and have the urge to touch the skin of her cheek.
I move my hand slowly toward her, waiting for her to reject me. She doesn’t.
I briefly caress her cheek.
Her hand reaches up to hold mine there.
Even her hand is delicate.
Both of us remain silent for a time.
I don’t know what she’s thinking, but I know my thoughts aren’t as gentlemanly as I’d wish.
Her lips part and I watch the movement wishing my tongue were there, tasting her, knowing her, feeling her body pressed tight to mine.
I can’t disengage myself from the thought that her lips would feel good around other parts of me, and I hope she wants to taste me as much as I want to taste her.
My cock is harder at the thought because if I’m honest, it became hard the moment I laid eyes on her.
Abruptly, even to my own thinking, I break the moment at the physical reminder of my need for her, take a step back and say, “Well, then. Continue bonding. I will be in my office if anyone needs me.”
Then I turn on my heel and walk back to my office.
It’s after five, but I don’t have a nine to five. I usually work eight a.m. to eight p.m., sometimes even later.
For the rest of the evening, I meet with clients, field more phone calls, and generally go about my day as though nothing has changed.
It has.
Every few minutes for the entire evening, I hear Grizz’s grunts, Heavy’s loud chuckles, and Snake cracking jokes. On the tail end of these reactions is always the laughter coming from Elizabeth.
Her laughter is what does it.
I’ve never acted on such an impulse, but Elizabeth has a control over me that is damnably inconvenient, at the same time, it’s uniquely freeing.
I lock the door to my office, dim the lights, and taking my handkerchief out of my blazer’s chest pocket, I then unbuckle my belt and unbutton and unzip my trousers, releasing my cock with a groan I have to stifle.
If I can hear Elizabeth’s laugh, the guys might very well be able to hear me groan.
I close my eyes and picture those red lips, that small tongue tracing their soft, plump fullness. I want to lean forward and pull on that bottom lip, then the top one, taking both with my teeth, drawing long sighs or moans from her mouth.
Before I can do so, the fantasy takes a turn—but not an altogether unsurprising one.
She doesn’t kiss me.
Well, she does, but before she does, she falls to her knees, her hands go to my belt, and not a moment later, she’s taken my cock in her small hand with its long, elegant fingers. She runs her hand along its length as though she enjoys the texture and I groan, leaning back against my desk, sitting my ass on it and feeling nothing but the most beautiful woman in the world moving from fondling my dick to cupping my balls.
My eyes close tight on the sight of her sucking me deep for the first time, first one ball, then the other, and finally, I feel her mouth on the tip of my cock, warm, wet, full, and those plump lips skimming over its sensitive skin.
Her tongue darts out and my hands move to her hair, into the tiny twists she’s dreaded into the length of midnight.
Tongue, and lips, and hands cupping balls, she slowly takes the length of me into her mouth, sucking every inch in and out. I help her. My hips thrust. My fingers delve into her scalp. I lose control under the power of the beauty sitting at my feet, taking me, tasting me, moaning her vibrations along the silky skin of my cock as I fuck her pretty, full lips.
Then, I can take no more.
I pull back, showing a restraint that, even with all the control I have, I still didn’t know I had in me.
I’ve knocked everything to the side and her back is to the desk, her hands trying to find purchase along its shiny Chippendale surface, but when she can’t find it, not a moment after I’ve torn her pants and undergarments from her body, and driven my cock into her warm, wet pussy, she’s reaching up to dig her fingers into my shoulders.
The deep marks she’s leaving with her nails are my undoing.
My movements are rougher. My own hands grip her thighs and hips, spanning the length of both to leverage my body, so that I can pound into her pussy over and over again.
I’m coming before I know it, and I feel her body ripple around mine as I do.
I don’t hear if she moans or signs or even if she’s a screamer when she comes.
I don’t hear her speak my name.
I hear my grunts as I come into my handkerchief, longer than I’ve ever come before.
Stronger than I’ve ever come.
I could brood over not being able to hear her sighs for real. Instead, the sound of her laughter reaches through the walls once more, and I don’t hide my smile when I think that it’s rather extraordinary that that’s how hard I come from a fantasy. I have no cause but to wonder at how much more extraordinary it would be to have her in my control in actuality.
8
Elizabeth
“Waylan,” I warn, my hand out to him. I know it’s a cliché, but it happens a good dozen times a month with my favorite clepto.
His eyes get squinty, and one side of his mouth tips up to reveal a dimple.
I know why Eagle covers his mouth when he smiles. I do it all the time in front of my kids. I just don’t like that he does it all the time, no matter the situation.
I catch myself and bite the inside of my lip.
With that tell, Waylan hands the stapler right over.
I look at the office supply. Then I look at him.
I shake my head and tsk.
“Losing your touch, kid. Last week it was a box of Wynona’s favorite pens. This week …” I lift the object. “… a boring old stapler? Really? You could have at least grabbed Nancy’s favorite bedazzled one.”
“Just practicing for our guests, Mizz Izzy,” Waylan smirks. I don’t like that smirk. It’s one I see often, like I’ve thrown out a challenge the kids can’t help but take on. Great, I’m raising criminal masterminds. My life’s calling.
“Go do your homework or something,” I say with a shooing motion.
He shoos.
I start to walk back to my office when I hear Nancy call out, “If my bedazzled stapler is missing anytime this week or next, I’m blaming you.”
I pop my head into the office she shares with three other workers and in mock seriousness say, “Well then, I think I’m safe. Waylan’s in it for the long-con this time. It’ll be another three weeks until that stapler goes missing, my guess with every damn stapler in this joint. It’ll be a free-for-all. No staplers, no way to hold our pages together. The end of the world will be nigh.”
I gasp for added dramatic effect, and she cracks up as she always does.
A larger woman, she’s got one of those barreling but feminine laughs that makes me feel warm to my toes. She’s a grandma, and I know, for a fact, her grandkids watch her laugh like it’s their favorite pastime.
“You have Sarah’s two sons coming today?”
Everyone knows Grizz and Eagle will be here. I’ve talked
of nothing else.
I glance at the clock on the wall and realize they’re late.
My brow furrows and I ask, “Who’s at reception today? Tiffany or Helena?”
Nancy smiles, shuffles some papers together, and picks up her bedazzled stapler. She then proceeds to staple at least twenty pages together at once.
It’s like the god of staplers. Now, I want one.
She ends this bout of office supply jealousy with a lazy smile.
“Tiffany.”
I want to growl.
I turn on my heel and yell, “Gotta go,” even as a grandma’s laugh follows me down the hall.
At reception, I see why Grizz and Eagle are late.
Grizz is leaning over the counter flirting and playing with a stapler, and all of a sudden I don’t want to growl. I want to laugh.
Eagle’s eyes automatically come to me.
“Hi,” I say, and it comes out even sweeter than usual.
I’m in my work attire, suit jacket, silk shirt, dark-wash jeans, and my black-heeled boots. My dreads are pulled back in a ponytail, my lips glossed in pink, my makeup similar to the other night at the ball. It’s the most I dress up, but I’m trying to show the kids they can be professional and themselves. Mostly, I think they just want to grow up to be famous. They don’t care how ... musicians, basketball players, models, reality show winners, actors … as long as they’re famous. That’s L.A. for you.
Eagle’s looking at me like I’m wearing that red dress again. I have to say, I’ve never liked my work ensemble more.
I resist the urge to look down at myself to see if I’m still wearing any clothes because he’s done a really good job of taking off every layer with his onyx gaze.
“Elizabeth,” he replies and glides forward. His hand goes to my upper arm. His other goes to my cheek and then he leans forward. I catch my breath. His eyes watch my lips. Then, they watch my gaze. His lips touch me, but it’s only my cheek they touch.
It’s sad. So sad that I’ll take any scrap from this man.
But that kiss, on my cheek, soft, firm, gentle and filling my stomach with butterflies, is the best kiss I’ve ever had.
