by F. G. Adams
She’s weakening my resolve with every sultry laugh and blazing glance. The desire growing more intense between us. I’ve quit giving her any quarter, which is driving her determination to spill out and dwindle away. Further cementing the bond between us.
She’s weakening day by day.
It’s become a dangerous game of roulette. Each time is bound to blow up in my face, but I keep going forward. Sage will be mine in the end. After all this shit with Mustaf and the Cabriccis is dealt with, I will have her consent. Yielding her desire, and to the truth, we are meant to be together.
A deep-seated awareness resonates inside me, confirming her feelings are mutual. Sage battles with the inevitable, and it’s my duty to guide her to my light.
At first, Sage fiercely opposed the idea of us being joined at the hip. Her resistance melted away like an ice cube left out in the summer sun as a result of my dominating personality capturing all of her attention. She craves it, longs for it.
The truth? I hunger for Sage. A deep-rooted passion driving me forward. She’s it for me. There will never be anyone else. I love Sage.
Matilda called me shortly after the TP washout. Fervently wishing to assist in the state of affairs.
“Son, you can’t go around beating your chest like King Kong and expect everyone to fall in line. It’s brutish. A tad exciting, but barbaric to say the least,” Matilda scolded. “Although, I do love a good soap opera.” The hint of amusement sounded over the line. “Nonetheless, these things take great finesse, my dear. A strong hand, yes. But you’ve got to be smooth with my lil’ peanut. She’s not like other girls, Lukas. Plant the seed. Make her feel it’s all her idea. Her exterior is tough. But on the inside, she’s a delicate rose. It took her whole life to build up that barrier. Right now, it’s shaky at best. The walls are crumbling around her. Do you understand what I’m telling you, Lukas? You’re walking a fragile line.”
“Yes, Grandma M. I’ll keep that in mind,” I said.
“You do that, young man. And Lukas?”
“Ma’am?”
“Follow your heart. It’ll never steer you wrong. I firmly believe in it,” Matilda’s voice softened, resulting in the quickening of my heartbeat. “Besides, I’m having so much fun watching.”
Her wise laughter echoed in my ear, reminding me why I love this lady so much.
Matilda Blackwood mothers the people in her family. Perchance, even an outsider can hold privilege in her world, if she takes a shine to you. Once she’s adopted you into her fold, Matilda’s reach is limitless.
Her words were a keen reminder of what’s at stake. A need for a logical solution wracks my overworked mind. I value everything she says.
Furthermore, I debate on the use of a delicate hand with Sage, which skews my judgment. Matilda is a smart old gal. I’m sure she knows a thing or two about the subject. Sage is just as stubborn as the rest of the Blackwood women, but she is different. Her need to be commanded at the forefront of her need.
For the time being, I’ll continue to indulge in Oliver’s advice. The demand to lay seize upon Sage with a firm hand, in more ways than one, pummels through my body. In the end, domination prevails rationality.
“Hey, you,” her sexy voice interrupts my inner monologue.
“Hello, doc. You ready?” I ask as Pharaoh rubs and nudges against my leg.
He nibbles and tugs on my pocket. Undoubtedly looking for the treats I usually keep hidden in the area he’s sniffing. I reach around to pet the head of the mammoth Great Dane. My newest best mate, aside from Roxy, of course. His large tongue pokes out to lick my fingers.
Pharaoh is an important link in the security detail for Sage. If his large size doesn’t scare a person, his bark and bite surely will.
With the chaos surrounding her, Sage has become restless. Working continuously to put the broken pieces of her life back together. She tries and fails to ignore the acts of hostility against her, and the inanimate objects that were destroyed. Her office, her home, her sweet ride. Sage is entitled to a break. The weariness is plaguing her, shows in the jerky, frightened movements and exacerbated expressions she tries to hide from the outside world. But I see it all.
I’ve organized just the thing to help her relax. Tonight, we’re going to the local bar and grill, BJ’s. Yes, BJ’s. Blow jobs for everyone.
A nice dinner for two, and then karaoke, one of my favorite pastimes. I hope to take her mind off what’s transpired lately. I figure I can achieve this once she gets a load of my awesome singing and dancing.
“Yeah. I’m ready. But the real question is, are you ready, big guy?” Sage mumbles in the quiet living space.
As she walks by, my head follows her direction. The skimpy outfit she’s wearing, a tiny miniskirt and tank top, drives me to savage level.
“Whoa. Babe, you look good enough to eat right now,” I comment and move closer.
Gripping her hips between my hands, I mesh our bodies together.
“Mmmm,” she whispers and wraps her arms around my waist. Her head leans against my chest.
“You smell amazing, doc. I want to suck your blood,” I mock Dracula and dive for the pulse on her neck.
I nuzzle the place behind her ear, my favorite spot. Sucking, licking, and playfully biting up and down her neck. Sage laughs and sighs in contentment. It stirs a volcanic yearning in my gut.
A few days ago, she moved back into her house. After the painstaking process of cleaning up, painting, and ordering new furniture, Sage achieved normalcy again.
I moved in, too. Right into her bed, exactly where I belong.
She gave me grief the first night but changed her mind quickly. My presence here keeps her calm, comforts her so she feels safe. Sage’s body language betrays her, regardless of what comes out of her mouth.
“Don’t we have somewhere to be, Lukas? Besides, I’m hungry, and a hungry Sage is a cranky Sage. You know that.” She playfully swats my pecs. “Anyhow, I’m ready to rock,” Sage asserts in a petulant manner, puckering out her bottom lip.
“Oh, really? I hope you plan to bring your A-game. And don’t cry, doc. Because I’m going to steal your thunder,” I taunt Sage and release my hold.
Sage flips her long hair to the side, planting a fist on her cocked hip. Her normal bad-ass posture.
I’m front and center to the sight of her bare neck in my line of view. The thirst for another taste compels me to go move and take a bite.
“We’ll see about that, Jolly Green. I’ve been known to out sing the best. So, you just need to prepare yourself to go down.” Her goading propels into a giggle, and I kiss her neck again.
“Such big words from such a little girl. Bring. It. On. Princess.”
“Game on, baby.”
As we exit her house, the air is full of anticipation. My attention drifts to the 91 Dodge Viper RT/10 show car parked by the garage. The steel blue car with silver racing stripes exudes power and speed. My baby, other than my princess.
No one has yet had the honor of seeing my car, except for Mac. He just happened to be at my house when the delivery man came.
The Viper had been in my parents’ garage since I was commissioned into the military. It was a gift when I graduated from MIT. Traveling around the globe and not settling down kept her there for a time. Now that I have a place of my own, with an oversized garage, it was time to have her back. A place big enough for my Viper and my Harley.
My parents shipped it to me right before everything went down with Fallyn and I had to go north. This is the first time I’ve taken her for a spin.
The need to bang the dust off the blowers sends a thrill through my system. Along with the anticipation of Sage’s response, my stomach in tangled knots.
When she catches the first look, she asks, “What is that?” She points to my car. “Is that a Viper? Is it yours?”
Her surprised expression unfurls a warmth on my insides, as her eyes examine the beauty sitting in the drive.
“Yeah. Do you like?”<
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“Are you kidding me, Lukas? I love it. She’s beautiful. ’91 or ’92 model? From the looks of it, it’s a first-generation assembly.”
“Thanks. I’m impressed, doc. You’re correct, it’s a ’91 model. It’s actually number three. Third one ever made on the line,” I reply boastfully as I walk to the passenger side door and open it for her to get in.
I’m excited about getting her inside my car. Two of my favorite things merged together.
“Thank you,” she comments and folds her long graceful legs into the plush leather seat. “Wait. Did you say number three? Holy shit, Lukas. What the hell?”
“That’s right, doc. I’ve got a few secrets of my own,” I smirk and shut the door on her surprised expression.
I get into the driver’s seat and ignite the engine. Power roars from under the hood and I tap the pedal a few times just to hear the purr of the motor. I push the clutch to the floorboard backing out.
“Buckle up and hold on,” I order.
Sage follow my instructions. I travel down the road, exiting the neighborhood, and take the long way to the bar on back roads. I goose the engine when there aren’t any other cars visible on the road. Fast and furiously our speeds lurch to over one hundred miles per hour.
Sage hoots and hollers, “Faster!”
I’m in love with this woman
“Woohoo,” I shout back and force the pedal to the floorboard.
We arrive at BJ’s just in time for the first singers to occupy the stage. The bellowing of two hearts becoming one or some nonsense echoes in the room.
I locate a corner booth for us to settle into in an alcove.
A middle-aged, spindly waitress approaches the booth. Her hair is pulled into a bun with a few wisps around her worn face. A fact which tells me she’s had a hard life.
She attempts to smile as she takes the order. “What can I get you folks?”
Before Sage can react, I take the liberty to order. “We’ll have two beers and two waters. An order of jalapeño poppers and cheese fries for starters. For dinner, we’d like two steaks, medium rare, baked potatoes fully loaded, and steamed vegetables, with steak sauce on the side.”
The waitress looks back and forth between us, her expression full of confusion. I guess she thinks I shouldn’t order for Sage, but she’d be wrong.
Sage sits stoically on her side of the booth, looking around the bar, face void of any emotion. That-a girl.
After a short pause, the waitress gets the message. “Okie dokie. I’ll get this order put in now. I’ll be right back with your drinks.”
When she leaves the table, Sage remarks, “That was…interesting. She looked petrified.” A snicker bubbles up out of her.
“I guess she’s never seen a real man taking care of his woman. Or maybe it was panic, not sure,” I note indifferently.
Sage doesn’t say anything. Not sure if it’s because of the ‘real man’ comment or the ‘his woman.’ Our gazes collide. Intensity is smoldering in her eyes. She wants me. The waitress is long forgotten. My cock expands uncomfortably behind the zipper of my jeans.
The hunger prompts me to scoot closer to Sage, longing to see just how far she’ll let me go. I drape one arm behind her head on the bench. With the other, I reach down and caress her legs at the bottom of her miniskirt. It’s hiked up right below her honey spot, and my assault begins. Luckily, there’s a solid wall enclosure from table to floor, permitting privacy underneath.
Her leg muscles tense as my fingers V, instructing her to spread them open wide. Electrical currents pulse, zinging between us, and she obeys. I lightly skim her thighs until the tips of my fingers arrive at the destination. Tugging her panties to the side, I sink one digit into her hot pussy. As I predicted, she’s drenched. Fuck me.
Leaning over, I whisper in her ear, “You’re dripping wet, princess.”
Sage transforms from shock into longing as her tongue slowly licks her bottom lip.
As I apply pressure against her moist center and nub, rubbing up and down in a circular motion, I watch her closely. Sage chews on her bottom lip and her brow crinkles. Her head snaps in my direction, eyes shimmering with desire, searching, inspecting my intentions. Seeking assistance. Trapped in her own internal war, Sage must decide whether to finish the game I’ve started.
Nodding my head in assurance, I add more pressure, which elicits a soft moan to escape her lips, followed by short, quick breaths.
Sage grabs the top of my arm, and we make eye contact. A complete change from moments ago, confidence exudes from her chocolate browns. An impression of challenge decorates her flushed cheeks, and she gives in as her head falls back against the bench. Perfect.
It’s not lost on me, this taboo act I’ve exploited. I drink in her beauty, and the remarkable nature of this incredible woman, full in the throes of passion. Her exhibition on display for the all to see, if anyone were paying attention.
As she concedes to the possibilities of what’s coming, the pleasure extracts another velvety gasp and moan from Sage. Gazes locked, I withdraw my fingers from between her sexy legs. Immediately, she huffs and the daggers focused on me signal frustration.
“Not yet, doc.”
Slowly, I bring my fingers to my mouth. Sucking off the dewy heat, the salty sweetness of Sage. I close my eyes in gratification.
“Delicious,” I hiss.
Her eyes widen in shock as she breathes in deeply. A lazy smiles creeps across my face.
“There’s more where that came from, doc.”
“Ahem. Here are your d-drinks, and appetizers,” the waitress interrupts our tryst. Her reddened cheeks and shaky hands affirm the waitress just participated in a little voyeurism. She settles the food onto the table. “Um…Enjoy.”
The little woman moves away quickly, like a dog is nipping at her heels.
Smirking at the uncomfortable waitress, I grab a small plate, turn to Sage, and command, “Let’s eat, babe.”
I dig into the poppers and fries.
After dinner, a few beers, and two shots of tequila, Sage decides it’s time to sing. Stumbling to the stage a couple of times, Sage finally makes it to the microphone. I chuckle at her persistence. Good thing I’m the designated driver.
My eyes follow as she walks out onto stage. The music begins to play. Ain’t no other Man by Christina Aguilera blasts through the speakers, and Sage begins to sing.
“I could feel it from the start,
Couldn’t stand to be apart.
Something ‘bout ya caught my eye,
Something moved me deep inside,” Sage sings, her eyes zeroed in on me.
She romps around the stage, touching her lithe body and grinding into the air. Booty shaking and dropping to the floor, then back up. It’s a wonder she’s able to stay on her feet, but the music has taken control of her body.
I sit up straight, one brow lifted. I’m surprised by her actions and non-existent inhibitions. Sage is sex personified, moving around the stage. I’m mesmerized by the vigorous bouncing of her ripe ass.
“You’re the kinda guy a girl finds in a blue moon,
You’ve got soul, you’ve got class, you’ve got style, you’re a bad ass,” she sings, whipping her head back and forth, grabbing her hip while her ass bounces and shakes.
Heightened by her expressive eyes, I’m caught in her web. The Black Widow comes to devour every last drop of my essence, and I could give a fuck.
The hoots and catcalls spread out across the bar as Sage exits the stage. Game point. Sage wins this round.
Standing up, I meet her when she finally arrives at our table.
“Badass, huh?”
“In your dreams, sucker. Your turn. Try and top that one. Lukas.” She snickers.
Without commenting, I head up to the stage. My turn. In a few minutes, my song of choice begins to play loudly in the bar. I’m too sexy by Right Said Fred. The crowd goes wild with cheers and whistles. Oh, yes! Here I come.
I’m in my element and crave th
e thrill of putting on a show. Even with my prosthesis, my movements are unencumbered.
I’ve turned around, my back to the audience. As I begin to gyrate my hips, dancing to the beat, more whistles and chants ensue. The crowd rallying boosts my already arrogant ego and entices me further. I begin to serenade the bar audience and provocatively move my hips as I cross the platform.
Like a fan at a rock concert, Sage stands at the front of the stage, swaying to the music.
When the song ends, I bow to my fans. “Good night, people. Thanks for listening. Peace.” With a two-finger salute, I depart stage left as the ovation continues.
Elvis has left the building. Thank you. Thank you very much.
“You are the master, oh ancient one. You must tell me how you do it,” Sage goads in a smart-alecky, playful manner.
She steeples her hands together, bending the upper part of her body in my direction.
“Ancient Chinese secret, little princess. You are not ready to hear it,” I continue the colloquy Sage initiated.
“Oh, but you must teach me, please, Master Rogers,” Sage laughs.
Instantly, the temperature in the air heats up and I pull her into my arms and demand, “Call me master again, doc.”
Her eyes are half lidded from the close proximity of our bodies.
“Master,” she utters, as the breath escapes her lungs.
“Time to go. I need to get you home, alone,” I command her to follow my lead.
I grab hold of Sage’s hand and lead her to the front door. My third leg strains, bulging adversely against my jeans. The motivation to hurry spawns a quicker pace. I’ve got big plans for Sage when I get her into bed.
As we exit the building, the impression of being watched floods my system. A sensation I mastered from being a soldier. Prickly goose bumps spread across my skin, resulting in the hair on the back of my neck to bristle and flare up. An instant signal. Something is wrong.
I pull Sage close and wrap her in my embrace as we continue to my car, parked in front of the bar and grill.
