Reckless

by Devon Hartford

  “I can come back later.”

  “Please, no,” I pleaded.

  He chuckled and waved as he walked out. “Until next time, beautiful.”

  I didn’t wave back. The last thing I needed in my life was more Hunter, no matter how hot he was.

  Where was Christos when I needed him?

  Sigh.

  If Hunter were to take one look at my hot, tattooed boyfriend and see how totally in love we were with each other, I believed Hunter would finally give up on me and go away.

  I truly knew my love for Christos was that strong.

  But I needed Christos in my arms for our enchantment to work and shoo Hunter off.

  At the rate things had been going, that might not happen for days or even weeks.

  Sigh.

  SAMANTHA

  The drive north from campus took awhile in traffic. I knew the Pacific Ocean was somewhere to my left, but it was blacked out by the glare of oncoming headlights.

  My relationship with Christos was starting to feel as inconsistent as my view of the ocean. We never had enough time for each other, just brief moments that lacked in both quantity and quality.

  Between my classes, my homework, my museum job, my never-ending job search, and Christos’ crazy round-the-clock work schedule, I feared we were slipping apart.

  I started weeping at the wheel of my VW.

  Yes, I had met the perfect man and we had fallen in love, all in the span of a few short months. But in the span of a few short weeks, I felt like our relationship was crumbling to dust. I knew our love was strong, but if we never saw each other, how could it grow? Love wasn’t a static thing. It required effort, commitment, and constant attention. It needed tending and care for it to grow, otherwise it was bound to wither and die.

  I knew, because I felt Christos slowly slipping away from me.

  Worse, despite our increasingly tenuous connection, my feelings for Christos had grown immensely, and I feared what would happen to me if our connection were to break completely.

  I wasn’t sure I could handle it.

  Whatever heartache and betrayal I’d gone through with Damian would be nothing compared to what I’d go through if I lost Christos.

  I wiped my eyes on the back of my hand, probably smearing my eyeliner. I didn’t care. I drove to my apartment, looking forward to another evening alone.

  Where Is Your Heart by Kelly Clarkson was the next tune to play on my car’s MP3 player. Half way through the song, I punched the OFF button.

  Stupid Kelly Clarkson. Why did you have to be so right all the time?

  I hated her.

  I tried to think constructively. What could I do to help my relationship with Christos? No matter where my mind went, I always smacked up against the same wall: we needed more time together.

  But we didn’t have more time in the day. Maybe I needed to sleep less?

  I parked my VW at home and trudged upstairs to my apartment. I dropped my book bag on my coffee table and sank into my couch.

  I texted Christos, expecting no reply.

  I miss you, Christos. My heart is aching for you. We never see each other. I need you. I love you. When can I see you again? <3 <3 <3 <3 <3

  Yes, I used five hearts, which was two more than I’d decided was officially “too” needy. Screw it. I didn’t care. I set my phone down and waited. I stared at it, willing it to beep. What was that old saying? A watched phone never bleeps?

  I opened my book bag and dug out my books and laptop. It was time to pick my poison.

  History, Sociology, or job search.

  Where was my ice cream?

  I jumped when my phone bleeped.

  A text from Christos, Want dinner? Got some cooking right now. And a surprise…

  I was right. The two extra text-hearts I’d used had done the trick. I texted him right away. I LOVE surprises! Be right over! <3 <3 <3 :-D

  I only used three hearts this time. I didn’t want to ruin my good luck.

  I washed my face in my bathroom and hurried to my car, wondering what the surprise might be. I never knew with Christos. It didn’t matter. Having dinner with him was more than enough.

  A few minutes later, I pulled into his driveway and parked. Christos walked outside before I climbed out of my car. He opened and held my door for me.

  “Your feast awaits, madam,” he said, bowing and offering his hand.

  I took it and he helped me out of my car. “Thank you, kind sir,” I said, sounding ten times more buoyant and happy than I would’ve thought myself capable twenty minutes prior. I tiptoed up and kissed him.

  Without warning, our simple kissed turned passionate and our tongues danced together. I’d forgotten how much I missed his touch. How many days had it been? I didn’t know for sure, but it seemed an eternity. I wrapped my arms around his neck and fell into the kiss.

  “Samantha,” he murmured. “I missed you so much, agápi mou.”

  Our lips continued to press and throb against each other as I mumbled, “I missed you too, my love.”

  He reached down and hooked his arm under my knees and carried me toward the front walkway.

  I continued kissing him as he carried me into the house. Would I ever get tired of being carried over thresholds?

  Probably not.

  Christos kicked the door closed with his boot and immediately crushed his mouth into mine once again.

  My heart thumped in my chest as he held me in his tattooed arms. He was ravenous, and his need awoke mine. My body was on fire. All I could think about was getting my clothes off…except. I pulled away from his luscious mouth and muttered, “Is Spiridon home?”

  “My grandfather’s out back reading on the deck. He won’t notice.”

  I suddenly felt like a fumbling teenager and couldn’t decide if the tension of getting caught by his grandfather was thrilling or a turn-off.

  Christos gazed at me with his blazing blue eyes.

  I forgot about everything else.

  My eyelids fluttered and I lunged for Christos’ mouth. I needed more of him. Memories of having sex with Christos flowed through me, spinning my body in a maelstrom of remembered sensation. Passionate, overwhelming ecstasy.

  I was ready to fall over and go at it right there in the entryway. Or have Christos smash me up against a wall while I straddled him and he entered me.

  The next thing I knew, my mind-reading man repositioned me so I was straddling his waist. His powerful hands gripped my ass firmly. I hooked my arms around his neck and pulled myself close.

  “I need you. Right now,” I murmured in his ear.

  Christos carried me upstairs. I noticed art hanging along the walls in the upstairs hallway. Spiridon’s home was truly an artist’s paradise. I loved this place.

  But I was even more in love with Christos.

  My awareness of anything beyond him faded from my mind as we turned through a doorway. He kicked the door closed behind us, and he lowered me onto a large bed.

  Chapter 16

  SAMANTHA

  The clicking of my zipper being pulled down swept me away.

  To my pleasant surprise, having Christos pull my pants off without asking was perfectly acceptable. He was welcome to do whatever he wanted to me. The dirtier, the harder, the wetter the better.

  I was smiling from ear to ear as his hands slid up my naked thighs. My pants, shoes, and socks were piled on the floor a second later. I was down to my panties, my shirt, and my sweater.

  Nope, now my panties were off.

  Oh, my.

  Christos gently parted my legs, revealing my hot, wet center.

  “You have no idea how often I’ve thought about this moment in the last several days,” Christos moaned. “I’ve been missing you like crazy.”

  “Me too,” I whimpered.

  He stood up and ripped his shirt off. He was totally, certifiably sexy. His muscles were worthy of a magazine cover. His tattoos made me quiver with anticipation. He had a face that captained a thousand s
hips. I could picture him standing at the front of an ancient warship, wearing Roman armor, one sandaled foot planted commandingly on the railing as he pointed his sword forward and led his men to victory. Christos was some kind of mythically sexy hero of legend, and he was all mine.

  He stared down at me. “You have the most beautiful pussy I’ve ever seen, agápi mou.”

  “Christos!” I blurted, throwing my forearm over my eyes. He’d torn me right out of my romance novel book-cover fantasy moment by using that word. I’d never had anyone call my lady bits that before, and I wasn’t sure what to make of it. Christos was always throwing me off balance.

  “What?” he smiled his cocky grin. “Do you want me to tell you your pussy is average looking? Or maybe a bit hideous?”

  “Christos!!” He was making this worse.

  He chuckled. “Then tell me how I’m supposed to describe it.”

  “I don’t know!” I whined. “Are you even supposed to actually talk about it at all?” I wasn’t sure of the answer to that myself.

  “Fuck the rules. I make my own. Your pussy is smokin’ hot. It tastes like cinnamon or I don’t know what, but I can’t get enough of it. It’s like dessert, but it never spoils my dinner.” He winked.

  Suddenly, I was extremely nervous as I gazed up at this impossibly handsome and uninhibited man. He looked at me like I was a plate of food, so I asked, “What’s for dinner, anyway?”

  “After I have dessert?” he stared between my legs as he said it, “then we’re having the main course, which will be my pig in your blanket,” he grinned that stupid, smirking, dimpled grin of his. “Oh wait, Pigs In Blankets is breakfast. Duh.”

  I paused and took in the ridiculous look on his face. How did he always manage to set me at ease so damn easily? There I was, naked from the waist down with a handsome cavemen hovering above me, drooling over his dinner, and I burst out laughing.

  He chuckled as he pulled his pants off one leg at a time like a normal mortal.

  “Come here,” I said, holding my arms out to him.

  He stood at the foot of the bed. “Boxers on or off?”

  “What happened to going commando?” I dropped my arms to the bed, feigning surprise.

  “Like I said before, when it’s winter, I need insulation for my jewelry.”

  “Your jewelry?” I sneered.

  “Gotta keep my 24-carat boys warm,” he snickered.

  “Are they diamond studded too?”

  “For her pleasure,” he said suggestively.

  I shook my head. “Take your pants off, funny man.”

  “Your wish is my command.” He pushed his boxers down, revealing his rigid length. He was completely naked and completely flawless.

  Oh, yeah. There was a reason why we were in his bedroom with the door closed and my pants and panties off. I fanned my face, suddenly struck by a 103-degree fever.

  “Is it just me,” he asked, “or is your hotness turning my bedroom into a fucking sauna?”

  “What, you mean like one of those bathhouses were people go to have sex?” I asked, still fanning myself.

  “No,” he chuckled at me,” I meant your hotness.”

  I frowned. “You were the one who said, ‘Fucking Sauna,’ so I thought that’s what you meant,” I sniveled.

  He smirked and shook his head, gawking at my crotch as he crawled between my legs. “You’re crazy,” he grinned.

  Before I could object, his arms were under my legs and his mouth was on my lips. My oh-so-very-wet lips.

  My head fell back on the bed and I moaned long and low, then suddenly stopped short. “Are there any windows open? Can your grandfather hear us?”

  Christos lifted his head and gazed up at me from between my legs with his mesmerizing eyes. “No, the deck is on the other side of the house. He can’t hear a thing.”

  That feeling of sneaking around returned, but this time, with myself completely bared to Christos, his breath warming my core as he locked eyes with me, I was ready to indulge in some illicit love-making. Even if he had used that word to describe my, uh, female porthole. Or whatever it’s supposed to be called.

  Christos’ head sunk back down and his tongue spiraled across the tight bud of nerves above my cleft. The intense ecstasy was instantaneous.

  “Oh, Christos,” I moaned.

  His tongue slid up and down my entrance before his fingers entered me.

  “Ohhhh…” I moaned again.

  He plunged and licked and loved my core until I orgasmed in his face, my back arching, his mouth pushing deeper into me, his tongue circling my pleasure center as my legs trembled and pressed against him.

  When I had released the last breaths of my orgasm, I sank into the bed. He climbed up to my face and kissed me passionately while massaging my breasts through my sweater. I felt so kinky being clothed from the waist up and naked from the waist down.

  “Cinnamon or nutmeg?” he asked.

  “What?”

  “How do you taste?”

  “Christos,” I giggled.

  “It’s like dining at a doughnut shop down there,” he laughed as our lips pressed together.

  “You’re terrible!”

  “Hey, what can I say?” He pulled away. “You’re the sweetest glazed doughnut I’ve ever had!” He hopped away before I could slap his arm.

  He was laughing as he landed several feet from the bed, watching me. I had crawled to the edge of the mattress, ready to chase him, when I realized, once again, I was not wearing pants or panties.

  I vaguely remembered seeing a Porky Pig cartoon as a little girl and being entirely disturbed that he wore a dinner-jacket and bow-tie, but no pants! And nobody ever said anything! Oh, and white gloves! Porky never forgot his gloves! Nobody went out of the house without gloves. He was shameless, that pig.

  “Did you happen to notice the wall of mirrors behind you?” Christos asked mischievously.

  “What?”

  “It offers a truly tantalizing view from where I’m standing,” he grinned through lowered lashes.

  I twisted my head around, and was greeted by a view of my naked backside. I was down on all fours, which provided a perfect view of my privates.

  Horrified, I dropped my bottom to the bed, hiding it from prying eyes. I swore I’d heard someone shout, “Put your pants on, Porky!”

  I glanced around, but it was only my imagination. However, I was not imagining Christos leering at the mirror.

  I whined, “Stop staring!”

  “Why?”

  “Because I’m embarrassed!” I shrieked.

  “Don’t be.”

  There was such a finality to the way he said it, I had to pause.

  “Agápi mou, you are the most beautiful woman ever created. You are a child of Mother Nature. Your beauty as a woman is your birthright. You should be proud of yourself. Own your womanhood. Own your femininity.”

  I stared at Christos. He was completely naked, all muscled chest and rock-hard abs. His manhood was fully, proudly erect. He looked at me lovingly. If he could be confident, why couldn’t I?

  I pulled my sweater over my head, then my shirt. I calmly reached behind myself and unhooked my bra. I tossed it at Christos. It landed right on his…

  Leaning Tower of Pisa.

  Where it dangled and swung.

  I pointed and said, “It landed on your—!!!” That was all I could get out before I fell face first on the bed, bellowing laughter, clutching my sides.

  “Gooooaaaallll!!!!” he shouted, then burst out laughing.

  I buried my face in my arms and laughed so hard I couldn’t breathe. After a minute, I looked up and saw Christos still standing and laughing heartily, but bent over at the waist, resting his hands on the tops of his thighs.

  “It’s shaking!!” I screamed, pointing at my bra. “Every time you laugh, it shakes!!”

  He broke into another round of laughter and finally dropped to one knee. I expected my bra to finally fall off, but it didn’t.

  S
omehow, that was even funnier than everything else.

  “It’s stuck!!” I squealed. “I lassoed your man-steer!!!!”

  He laughed harder, but stood up slowly. Then he began to twirl his hips, and my bra twirled too. So did his man pole. Why did I imagine a rodeo cowboy swinging his cowboy hat in the air?

  My bra spun faster and faster—

  “Meat spin!!!!” he cackled breathlessly.

  —until it flew off and landed on top of my…

  Head.

  I fell onto my back and couldn’t stop laughing. My bra was still stuck to my head.

  “Nice hat,” Christos laughed.

  I didn’t care. I was laughing too hard.

  Christos stumbled over to the bed and plopped onto the mattress next to me. He rolled over until we were laying side-to-side.

  He laced his fingers through mine and we held hands while we laughed and laughed for a long time. Slowly it faded into chuckles, then just breathy sighs.

  “Was it good for you?” I gasped.

  “Best ever,” he chuckled.

  I glanced down and noticed he was still erect.

  “How can you stay hard for so long?” I marveled.

  He sighed while pulling my bra off my head and tossing it to the floor. “That’s easy, agápi mou. Everything about you turns me on. You’re my own personal Viagra. When I’m seventy-two and can’t get it up anymore, all you’ll have to do is throw your bra on my cock and I’ll be hard as a rock.”

  “I can’t imagine you not being able to get it up, no matter how old you are.”

  “Me neither,” he said with cocksure confidence.

  “Tell me that part again about being together when we’re seventy?” I prompted.

  “Oh, you mean when we’re old and gray and have been together for fifty years?”

  “You mean when I’m like, 69?”

  “I like 69,” he smirked.

  “Christos!” I sighed. Why did I like the sound of that so much? I’m not talking about the 69 part, not that there was anything wrong with that, but I meant the being together fifty years part. And why was that making me horny again?

  He rolled on top of me and I felt the length of his shaft pressing against my cleft.

  “Condom!” I gulped.