Revolution

by Montana Ash

  He curled his hands into fists and used them to brace himself over Jazz’s much smaller body. He was very aware of his superior strength and larger size. With previous lovers, he had held himself back somewhat, scared his big body would cause pain instead of pleasure. But with Jazz he found he couldn’t. All control had fled the moment she laid her perfect lips against his. And now that she was naked and hot and wrapped so tightly around him, all bets were off.

  “Oh damn. Don’t judge my manliness, I have a feeling this is going to be quick,” Beyden warned. The vixen beneath him laughed but he was dead serious. The scorching heat gripping him so perfectly had him on the edge already and he was yet to move.

  Beneath him, Jasminka’s smile turned sultry and she reached back, grabbing the headboard and causing her body to bow. The pebbled tips of her breasts rubbed erotically against his chest hair and he snapped his hips forward without conscious thought. Jasminka gasped, dark eyes rolling back as she met every thrust with one of her own. Beyden was gratified to realise Jazz was not a quiet lover. He loved hearing the moans and cries and pleas for more. He pulled out all the stops, rotating his hips before snapping them back in a brutal, frenetic rhythm his partner had no chance of anticipating. When her nails scraped down his back, no doubt leaving trails of red in their wake, and her sexy moans became frantic prayers, he knew he had Jazz right where he wanted her; on the razor edge of pleasure/pain.

  Reaching down, he pressed two fingers tightly against the swollen point of pleasure between her legs. Three more thrusts of his hips and she came screaming his name, head thrashing against the pillows. Her tight centre gripped his dick like a vice and it felt like every muscle in his body clenched and seized as his orgasm barrelled through him with all the strength and finesse of a freight train.

  SIXTEEN

  Beyden sighed, satisfaction and male pride coursing through his veins. Jasminka's four-step program had a lot going for it, but this final step – the excessive amount of truly stupendous sex – was by far his favourite one. Turning his head to the side, he found his new lover practically comatose and buried underneath all that stunning hair of hers. It was rather tangled thanks to their earlier activities and he sat up enough to begin to pick out the knots and smooth out the dark tresses.

  Jasminka hummed and turned her head, one eye peeking out from beneath her mostly covered head. Beyden had never seen a single eye smile before, but he swore that's what it looked like. Reaching up, he brushed the mass of hair off her face and sure enough, her mouth was smiling too. It was a rather smug smile – not that Bey could blame her. She had a right to be feeling smug. Neither of them spoke – an attribute he loved about her. Jazz never felt the need to fill up the silence for the sake of it. The quiet was comfortable and content, and although he figured words weren't needed just then, he did bend down to brush his lips against hers. Jasminka's lips curved against his and he found himself tasting her smile.

  Delicious, he thought.

  It took a good ten minutes for Beyden's fingers to detangle the mess that was Jazz's hair, but he considered it well worth the effort when she purred and arched beneath his fingers. Brushing her hair aside, he ran both palms over the smooth, lean lines of her back. Her dark skin was so warm and soft and – he paused in his ministrations. "Jazz?"

  "Hmmm?" came her sleepy reply.

  "What is this?" Beyden traced his fingers over the dip where back met butt.

  "What's what?" she mumbled.

  Beyden poked her this time, "This ..." he repeated.

  Jasminka huffed and glanced over her shoulder. She shrugged, "That's my tramp stamp."

  Beyden stilled, a laugh escaping him in his surprise. "Tramp stamp?"

  "Uh huh. That's what tattoos on your lower back are called. Tramp stamps,” the doctor explained patiently.

  Tramp coupled with stamp were not words he would have ever associated with her. But then, he never would have thought he'd be staring down at Max's loyalty brand at the base of a human's spine after the best sex of his life either. Seeing Jazz's eyes flutter shut, he knew she believed their conversation was over, but there was no way he was allowing it to end yet. He picked her up at the hips and rolled her over, eliciting a startled yep.

  "Beyden! What the hell?"

  "You have Max's loyalty brand tattooed across the top of your arse," he informed her. "Care to explain?"

  Jasminka narrowed her eyes, "What's the big deal? I've seen it dozens of times on dozens of arms since I've been here."

  "Exactly. On arms. Not butts. And something tells me this was done a long time before all the others," Bey pointed out.

  Jazz shrugged, "It was. But not by magical means. It's just a tattoo, I assure you."

  "But it's Max's tattoo."

  Jasminka groaned, covering her face with her hands. "You're not going to let me bask in post-coital bliss, are you?"

  "Sorry," Beyden apologised. He even half meant it. But his curiosity wouldn't be silenced.

  Jazz sighed, "Fine. It was a night out with Max eight years ago in Tokyo. The night started out with some devil's water; otherwise known as tequila. It was swiftly followed by the devil's work; otherwise known as karaoke. Then there was more tequila ... a donkey ... a train ... more tequila ... and finally a very questionable tattoo parlour in the red-light district."

  Beyden blinked, finding his thoughts derailed by the one and only thing that could provide a distraction from his earlier focus. "Wait ... you know about the donkey and the train incident?"

  His new lover eyed him drolly, “Really? All you heard from that was donkey and train?”

  Beyden shrugged, “Max has been taunting us with that tale since she arrived. Come on, ‘fess up. What happened?”

  “First, I highly doubt Max has been taunting you with that story. There’s no way she would voluntarily talk about it. Second, there’s no way I am going to voluntarily talk about. What happens in Tokyo, stays in Tokyo,” she informed him, primly.

  “But –”

  “Nope,” Jazz interrupted. “Not going to happen. Now, do you want to know about my tattoo or not?”

  Beyden considered changing her mind by any and all means necessary, but Jazz might just be stubborn enough to hold back on the goods. Resigning himself to never learning about the details of the great train tale, in exchange for more potential sex in his future, he nodded his head.

  Jasminka made herself comfortable across his chest as she said, “It was the first time we went drinking together. I’m a bit of a lightweight but I was not expecting Max to be able to drink like a fish. She manipulated me in my inebriated state. Though, to be honest, I would have done anything Max asked me to. She had just saved my life. A tattoo designed by her was really no big deal in the grand scheme of things.”

  That had Beyden sitting up instantly, wincing as the abrupt movement strained his leg. Funny how it hadn’t bothered him once during their lovemaking. But that was something he would explore at a later time. For now, he was too busy tamping down his concern over Jazz’s blunt admission. “Saved your life? What do you mean?”

  He listened as Jasminka recounted her close encounter with death thanks to a rare human fallibility. Beyden clenched his fists in helpless anger when he thought of the amazing woman in front of him going through so much pain and fear. It was impossible to change the past, but he found himself wishing he had been there for her when she was alone and afraid and vulnerable. Thankfully, Max had been there and not only saved Jazz’s life, but also marked her as her own. It was interesting to say the least and Beyden fleetingly wondered if the oddly sexy tramp stamp was more than a mere tattoo as Jazz seemed to think.

  Not wanting Jazz to get sucked back into old memories that could potentially hurt her, Bey leant down and sucked up a mark above her right breast. Jasminka allowed the mauling, even going so far as to cup his head and hold him in place. One thing led to another and before he knew it, Beyden had just participated in his first sixty-niner. Yes, he thought, there was definitely
something to be said about a mature woman.

  “I’m glad we got that out of the way before my mother arrived. Having sex under the same roof my mother is sleeping under is just too weird,” he puffed out, still struggling to catch his breath.

  Jazz stroked a hand over the slightly-more-than-scruff-but-too-short-to-be-a-beard, saying; “Sorry to burst your bubble there, but this step was a plural – sexes. Lots of sexes is required with me – your physician – in order to complete your recovery.”

  “Sexes? How many degrees do you have again?” Beyden teased, feeling relaxed and – dare he think it – happy.

  “Yes, sexes. Everyone knows that is the plural for sex. Like sheeps is the plural for sheep, and fishes is the plural for fish.”

  Beyden laughed. He had no doubt the very intelligent woman in his arms was well versed in grammar and pronunciation. She was simply feeling relaxed and playful. Then she had to ruin it by continuing;

  “Besides, you sleep under the same roof where your sister has sex. Several times a night I imagine, because that man of hers is extremely limber. Have you seen him do yoga?”

  Beyden’s brain misfired for a second before it rebooted and he was able to respond; “You’re wrong. The only place my sister has sex is in the vault. And the vault doesn’t exist, therefore what happens in the vault doesn’t exist. Therefore, my sister’s sex life does not exist.”

  Jazz blinked at him a few times before speaking, “Okay, I have no idea what you just said but it was cute as hell.”

  “Considering the way I just pounded you into the mattress and proved my manhood not once, but twice in a very short timeframe, do you think you could stop calling me cute, adorable, and any other pronouns used to describe small woodland animals?” Beyden beseeched.

  “Considering you went along with Nikolai when he named the kittens Angel and Princess – no. I don’t think I will. Softie,” she whispered against his lips.

  A series of leisurely kisses caused him to start feeling sleepy and he figured he’d better leave before he outstayed his welcome. Starting to slip from the warmth of the bed, he was brought up short by Jasminka’s hand on his thigh.

  “Where are you going?” she inquired.

  “Um, I thought maybe you’d like your bed back.”

  Jazz looked surprised, “You thought wrong. I want to snuggle.”

  Now it was his turn to be surprised. He hadn’t pictured her as a snuggler. “Snuggle?”

  “Yes, snuggle. You think you can use and abuse all this,” she ran her hands over her chest and down her flat stomach, stopping just short of the juncture between her thighs, “and not snuggle me afterwards?”

  Beyden felt his heart leap at her playful words. “No ma’am,” he said, scooting back under the sheets and proceeding to snuggle to the best of his ability.

  SEVENTEEN

  “Mmm, mmm, mmm. That man is fine. And did you hear the way his accent gets stronger when he’s mad?”

  Two days had passed since his mother had arrived. Beyden had spent almost every waking moment with her, listening to the Spanish lilt in her voice and helping her out in the kitchen – which she had taken over with all the subtly of a raging elephant. Yes, Hurricane Rosa had joined the household and Beyden couldn’t be happier. For the most part, at least. His leg was still quite literally a walking nightmare and his thoughts often took spontaneous and inexplicable nosedives. But he was happier than he had been in a long time. He wasn’t running any marathons but he was walking without a cane, he had a new furry little friend, the mother he missed every day was in his kitchen making pasta from scratch, and he was having sex with a beautiful woman. Well, he’d had sex once, he quickly amended. He and the lovely doctor hadn’t shared a bed since his mother arrived. And it wasn’t because he was creeped-out being under the same roof as his mother either, he assured himself. He had simply been busy making his mum feel at home. If her last comment was anything to go by, she was making herself comfortable. Too comfortable.

  Mordecai and his paladins had just left to deal with a scuffle over at the Chaden Motel after Knox had called requesting assistance. Apparently the culprit was a warden Mordecai had a history with. His mother was right; Mordecai’s accent was more pronounced when he was mad. His mother had never had the pleasure of meeting the Scottish Death warden before – her words, not Beyden’s. And he had been both alarmed and happy to see the two of them getting along so well. He knew his mother would need to make friends. She had come across the ocean with no more than a few bags of luggage, and her single paladin – Penelope – in tow. And although his friends were making her feel welcome and treating her like one of the family, they were still his friends, not hers. But the twinkle in her brown eyes just now was highly concerning.

  “Please, please, please tell me you don’t have the hots for Max’s dad,” Beyden begged his mother.

  Rosa cackled and continue to knead the dough. “Of course I have the hots for the man. Have you seen him? Boy, that man is fine!”

  Beyden shuddered, gagging a little upon hearing his mother using the word fine in that tone of voice. All sexualised and stuff. Ick!

  His mum laughed again, delighting in his discomfort. “But I’m not some fickle pre-teen. I know a taken man when I see one. He’s a friend, Beyden. Hopefully he’ll become a good one. Something tells me he needs it.”

  “Well, okay ... good. That’s good then.” He thought for a second, then asked; “Wait, what do you mean a taken man? I’ve never seen Mordecai with anyone – ever.”

  Rosa rolled her eyes, “And you suppose that means anything? Sometimes I worry about you, Beyden. Still so innocent.”

  Beyden thought back to his endeavours in the bedroom three nights prior and knew his mother wouldn’t call him innocent if she knew. As if sensing the direction of his thoughts, she poked him in the stomach;

  “How are things with the good doctor? First Ivy and now you. I swear, even if Max wasn’t a goddess, I’d worship the ground she walks on just for bringing love to my children. I thought I’d never get grandchildren the rate you two were going. Then Max comes into your lives and boom! Grandbabies for me.”

  Beyden wasn’t sure what the noise was that came from his mouth because he was too busy choking on his own saliva, but he hoped it at least resembled a negative. His dainty mother gave him a few hearty slaps on the back and he was finally able to breathe again. “Grandbabies? Love? Mum! What are you talking about? I barely know Jasminka. She’s my doctor. I’m just ...”

  Rosa narrowed her eyes, “You’re just what? Just screwing her? Beyden, you better not be using that nice woman. She’s too good for that. She deserves better and so do you. Now, I’m not saying casual sex is a bad thing. It’s great. I love casual sex!”

  Beyden felt his eye twitch as his mother kept talking and wondered if the Great Mother would do him a favour and start the apocalypse anytime soon. But it seems the Goddess felt she had performed enough miracles lately because his mother continued to talk, traumatising him for life.

  “Sex is good. Sex is healthy. But Jasminka is special. You’re not a stupid man, Beyden,” his mother scolded. “Nor am I blind. I see the way you look at her; she’s not just an easy lay to you.”

  Beyden buried his face in his hands, “Jeez, mum. Can you please stop using words like sex and lay? I’ve been through enough.”

  His mother jabbed him in the stomach with her elbow this time, “Ha ha. Funny man. I’m serious.”

  He sighed, “Yes, I can see that you are. But I’m not – not yet at least,” he quickly amended. “Things have been hard for me these last couple of months. I’m only just getting my feet back under me; literally and figuratively. I’m not in a place where I can be making decisions about relationships. It wouldn’t be fair to either of us.” Beyden thought he sounded entirely reasonable and mature, but he should have known better. All the women he found himself surrounded by were weird – to a statistically significant degree.

  “Don’t bullshit a bullshitt
er, baby boy. You don’t have the face for lying. Now, your sister on the other hand, she lies like a rug when the situation calls for it.”

  Beyden huffed. Yeah, his ranger sister was hardcore in a way he would never be. “She’s happy,” he said.

  Rosa sighed, the sound content, “I know. Deliriously happy. I never thought I’d live to see it. She loves Lark very much.”

  “It’s mutual,” Beyden was quick to support his best friend.

  His mother reached up and patted his cheek, no doubt leaving a smudge of flour behind. “Of that I have no doubt. I don’t think there is anyone else on the planet who could have been more perfectly matched for my girl. Not that you would think it upon first appearances. Chalk and cheese they seem. Pass me the salt.”

  Beyden pursed his lips, even as he dutifully handed his mother the salt. “Real subtle, mother.”

  The rolling pin came out next and Rosa kept working as if she hadn’t heard him, “You just never know when you’re going to meet the person that balances you, opposes you, and completes you all at the same time. What a wonderful thing that would be, don’t you think?”

  He sighed, head dropping to his chest only to see Angel sitting at his feet. Huge blue eyes looked up at him and he shook a finger at her. “Don’t you start. I have enough females telling me what to do.” The kitten mewled at him, sweet and innocent. Beyden wasn’t fooled.