Smoke, Fire and Desire

by Melinda Barron

  His little star. Was that really how he saw her? No one had ever used a term of endearment for her before. Her parents, both of them scientists, had raised her to believe that human emotions were flawed and not to be trusted. She knew they didn’t really like each other very much, though they stayed married because it was easier that way.

  Her one attempt at romance had proven them right, and she’d shied away from love. Until now. Of course, she didn’t love him, did she? Her body craved him, craved the pleasure he could give. But, love was an emotion people thought they felt, something that made them feel better, made them feel wanted. It wasn’t real, just a fantasy.

  “I thought we’d go to the National Gallery,” Sandro said, setting a newspaper full of fish and chips in front of her. He reached for the vinegar and pushed it toward her. “Have you ever been?”

  “No.”

  “I love Rubens’ Sampson and Delilah, and Van Gogh, of course. The Sunflowers are beautiful.” He sprinkled vinegar on his fish then took a healthy bite. “They have da Vinci and Monet, too. All the paintings are quite stunning.”

  She stared at her fish, then looked at him in wonder. “It’s really wrapped in newspaper.” His grin made her blush.

  “This restaurant does it for show, really. If you’ll notice it’s really wrapped in white parchment.”

  “Yes, at first the newspaper helped keep the food warm.” She laughed, then took a drink from her cup. “You knew that already, though.”

  After dousing her fish with vinegar, she tore off a small chunk and nibbled on it. “Where are we going next? After the museum?”

  “Well, I’ve found a pleasant way for us to spend the evening, fashioned after a fantasy I saw buried deep in your subconscious. After that, it’s up to you. What else would you like to do?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  She knew a few things she wanted to do, truly, but her mind was having trouble getting past the “deep in your subconscious” remark. Had she fantasized about something subconsciously? Or had she pushed something away in her mind as being “too weird,” or “just too far gone?”

  Of course, after years of listening to Cassidy talk about her sex life, anything could have planted itself inside her mind. It could just be something she retained that Cassidy said. It didn’t necessarily mean she wanted to do it. Did it? Cassidy was bold and adventurous, taking many different lovers and trying out new things, something Rhylie had never done. Maybe at some point she’d been more than a little fascinated by one of Cassidy’s stories, and had actually thought about living it out.

  But, it wasn’t something she would ever do, not something she would have the fortitude to go through with. The desire, maybe, but she would chicken out in the end, she knew it.

  “Are you going to tell me what you’ve planned?”

  “No.” He popped the last of a piece of fish in his mouth, then doctored the other one before taking a huge bite. “But you’re going to love it, I promise.”

  * * * *

  Rhylie tried to put the idea in the back of her mind as they toured the National Gallery. Seeing all the beautiful paintings had been absolutely fascinating. She wanted to do more than look, though, she wanted to run her fingers over the canvases, wanted to feel the paint the actual artists had used to create the masterpieces in front of her.

  “Such talent,” she said. “I’ve always wondered what it would be like to have talent.”

  “You’ve got a different sort of talent.” Sandro gently stroked her thigh. They were standing in front of The Virgin of the Rocks, and Rhylie marveled at the color and the artistry involved in the painting.

  “He did it all,” she said softly. “He was a scientist, a painter, a mathematician. His talents and his curiosities were unbridled.”

  She turned suddenly to Sandro. “Did you know him?”

  “I met him, yes, in Rome.” His gaze fastened on the painting and she could see a little bit of regret in his look. He continued to study the painting as he spoke. “He was a fascinating man, always in motion, always creating and doing. He was filled with a fire to live life to its fullest. I was young, though, and didn’t appreciate what, or who, I was seeing at the time. It was a missed opportunity that I regret. I was more interested in physical pleasures then.”

  “So things haven’t changed, hum?” She loved the frown that appeared on his face, his brows drawing together and his mouth tightening just a little. “Well, you did go down on me the first time we met.”

  “Is that a complaint? Because if it is, then I didn’t do it right, and we’ll have to try again. Right here. Right now.” He pulled her into his arms, cupping the back of her head and kissing her with an intensity that made the woman next to them gasp in feigned horror, but Rhylie could tell she was really impressed, and wishing it was she in the handsome djinni’s arms.

  You think you like it, sister. Rhylie moaned as Sandro’s tongue delved into her mouth, sending her into a whirlwind of emotions. It felt so good, so right. And yet they were in public, and people were watching. Rhylie pushed against his chest.

  “Behave,” she managed to whisper, her chest heaving with her excited breathing. He made her burn with just one touch, one kiss.

  “Where’s the fun in that?”

  “People are watching.” Her nipples tingled against her lacy bra, begging for his touch. Between her thighs her clit throbbed, remembering the pleasures this man could bring.

  “You like that idea,” he whispered in her ear. “My beautiful, practical scientist is excited by the fact that a woman is watching, and wishes she could take your place in my arms. But she can’t. The only one I want to hold is you.”

  He was right, she knew. The idea of being watched was thrilling, to say the least.

  “Yes it is, for us, too,” he whispered in her ear. “The djinn who held you Saturday all wanted to take my place, all wanted a taste of you. If given the chance, they would have brought you to orgasm, one by one, their tongues sliding over your clit, under my watchful eye, of course, since you’re mine.”

  The image made Rhylie shiver, and she clasped her hands in his sweater, his hair brushing against her hands. “Sandro.”

  “Yes, you like that idea. I know.” His words hit her like a ball of fire, and suddenly she remembered the story Cassidy had told her that had peaked Rhylie’s interest so much, what had fascinated her and titillated her with its naughtiness and taboo nature. She’d told her friend it was terrible, that she should be ashamed of participating in such a thing, but secretly Rhylie had wished it had been her. And now, it seemed as if it would be.

  Flames shot up in every corner of the room, licking the ceiling and filling the room with heat. Around her, the people continued to gaze at the paintings, except for the one woman who watched her, envy written all over her face.

  “Sandro.” He stepped away, dropping her hand and licking his lips.

  “I will see you very soon, la mia stella. Don’t be late.” He disappeared and Rhylie shivered at the sudden lack of heat. Around her, no one seemed to notice he was gone. The woman who’d been staring at her now focused her attention on a painting.

  Rhylie swallowed hard, wondering what she was supposed to do next. He’d told her not to be late. Was she supposed to search the museum for him, or was she supposed to wish for something.

  No, she’d already done that. She’d done it without even realizing it. Panic swept through her at what he’d seen in her mind. But, he hadn’t seemed to care, or thought she was strange. After all, it was one of the most popular sexual fantasies for women, wasn’t it? Sex with more than one man at a time, and sex with a stranger. Except here one of the men wouldn’t be a stranger. It would be Sandro.

  Or would it? Would he participate, or would he sit by the sidelines and watch? The thought thrilled her, and she wondered what it said about her ever practical mind. And she wondered exactly what he would do, how he would handle the situation.

  The room seemed to grow colder and Rhylie hugged
herself, surprised when her hands met bare arms instead of the sweater she’d been wearing. She looked down at herself, shock running through her like wildfire.

  A skimpy erotic maid’s outfit replaced her jeans and sweater. The tight top barely contained her breasts, her nipples pushing against the silky black fabric. One false move and they would pop free. She traced her fingers over the lace of the apron, running her hand down to the skirt. Numerous lacy petticoats lifted the skirt out, almost as if she were wearing a tutu, a very short one that is. It barely covered her crotch. If she moved at all, she would be exposed for every person in the room to see.

  But she wasn’t in the museum anymore. She stood on a huge stone stairway, like one you’d find in a French chateau. It was huge, and seemed wide enough to park a car inside. She took a step up, and then another. With each step she took columns of flames appeared behind her, consuming where she’d come from, leaving nowhere for her to go but up.

  Nowhere for her to go but to Sandro, who would light her fire yet again.

  Chapter Seven

  Sandro sat alone, the fire casting shadows over his handsome face. He seemed so close that it seemed as if he and the flames were almost one. The orange glow made him more handsome than ever. He wore loose fitting linen pants and no shirt.

  Still, she felt more naked than he was, though, especially since she knew what would happen. She hadn’t thought about this in ages. How was it that he’d discovered it, buried in the recesses of her mind? After Cassidy had told her about it, Rhylie had fantasized about it for days. And now it was about to happen.

  The appearance of a tray of drinks in her hand startled her just a bit, and at that moment Sandro turned to give her a sensual smile.

  “Ah, just in time. I’m very thirsty. Come here, girl, don’t just stand there.”

  “Yes, sir.” She would not think about the implications, or about where this desire had actually sprung from. She would enjoy herself, savor every second of this fantasy.

  She hurried across the room, bending to offer the tray to Sandro. When she did, her breasts popped out. He licked his lips, then slowly lifted his gaze to her, the desire in his eyes burning into her soul.

  The sensual tone of his voice made her shiver, and when she did the tray tipped, spilling the glass and soaking the front of the Sandro’s shirt. Mock anger flashed over his face and Rhylie gasped.

  “My, what a bad little girl you are. Should I throw you out on the streets, or should I teach you a lesson?”

  “I’m so sorry, sir.”

  “Yes, so am I.” He grasped her around the waist and pulled her across his lap. The skirt had barely covered her before, but from this position she was totally visible, and totally vulnerable.

  Sandro slapped a hand on either buttock, clasping it firmly and squeezing. Rhylie tried not to panic, forcing herself to breathe in through her nose and out through her mouth.

  She still had one foot on the floor, and Sandro put his knee between her legs, forcing them open. And then, he slapped her ass. The sting spread through her behind, heading straight for her clit, which tightened in response. The air hit her wet nether lips, sending tendrils of pleasure through her.

  He slapped her ass again, the sound from the stiff petticoats crumpling under his arm competing with the loud thwack from his hand coming down on her bare bottom.

  “Sandro!” He slapped her ass again and Rhylie shuddered, the pleasurable sting seeping into her pores. He gave her two more softer smacks, then rubbed her behind.

  “You’ve been a bad girl.”

  “Yes, I have.” She wanted to be bad. Very bad.

  “Perhaps this will set you straight.” The slaps grew in intensity, two on either side, the yearning for more spreading through her, and frightening her more than a little bit. You weren’t supposed to enjoy being spanked, were you? But she knew many women did, and now she was one of them.

  His hand came down over and over, the slaps just hard enough to make her bottom throb. When the sting turned to a slight pain he stopped and stroked her behind, his fingers warm and gentle against the burn of her buttocks.

  “What a wicked girl you are. It’s a good thing I’m here to set you on the right path, isn’t it?” The next slap made her groan, and she mumbled out a yes.

  And then, the spanking started again, his hand not striking so hard, but still leaving quite an impression on her bottom. When the sting turned to a burn he caressed her, his hand soft and gentle against the tingling the spanking left behind.

  “Are you ready to be a good girl?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Stand up and turn around.” She obeyed him immediately, her body buzzing as it had never done before. She felt as if electricity flowed through her veins, giving her sexual energy like she’d never felt before. Was it the spanking, or was it Sandro? She knew the answer to that one quite easily.

  It was the fact that Sandro had spanked her. She had no doubt that if she’d participated in the activity with any other many it wouldn’t have left her feeling as charged as she was right now.

  But it was more than physical contentment she felt right now. Her soul felt a bond with Sandro. They belonged together, forever. But what did that mean, exactly? How was it possible? Humans didn’t have relationships with djinn, did they?

  A slap on her ass brought her back to reality. She turned to face him, her eyes widening.

  “Pay attention, bad girl. Don’t allow your mind to wander on that which is already decided. Now, spread your legs, then reach down and touch the floor.”

  Vulnerability snaked through her as she positioned herself in front of him. The maid’s outfit hugged her close, yet her breasts hung loose, and the whole bottom half was open to his inspection.

  His hands roamed her buttocks, stroking the now tender flesh. She closed her eyes and gave into the sensations he provided, relaxing into his touch as one hand continued to caress her and the other cupped her mons, his thumb sliding inside her easily, his entrance paved by the wetness that flooded her during his spanking.

  Was that purring sound coming from her? That’s almost what it sounded like, a deep, contented purr as he stroked his thumb in and out of her channel, his other fingers seeking, and finding, her clit.

  She came almost instantly, his free arm wrapping around her waist to keep her in position. The purr turned into a soft mewl, her hands clawing the floor for purchase as pleasure spread through her body, igniting nerve endings and making her feel as if she would pass out from the incredible feelings his touch produced.

  She could feel his breath on the small of her back as he continued to fuck her with his thumb. She wanted to stay in this position forever, savor the closeness she felt at this moment, both physically and mentally. When he gently vacated she cried softly in protest, pushing her hips back at him.

  “More, please.”

  “Of course, la mia stella. More for both of us.” Her body felt limp as he stood and picked her up, carrying her to a huge tester bed she hadn’t noticed when she entered the room. She’d had eyes only for him at the time.

  But how could she have missed it? The bed was huge, the four posters holding up the wooden canopy from which hung sheet after sheet of thick purple drapes. Before she could get a good look they were cocooned inside the drapes, Sandro laying her gently on the bed before sitting with his back against the headboard.

  He grasped his hard cock, and her eyes widened. What had happened to his pants? He’d had them on while he’d been spanking her, though she’d been able to feel his hard cock pressing against her thigh, rubbing her with each stroke.

  “Come and mount me, Rhylie. Ride me until you can ride me no more, and then I shall give you the strength to continue until we are both sated with our love.”

  She scrambled toward him, straddling his hips and placing his cock at her entrance. Their gazes locked as she moved, lowering herself slowly onto him, pulling back after a few inches were inside her, then starting down again, the incredible fulln
ess of him stretching her wide as she welcome him inside.

  She tried to draw it out as long as she could, but her passion for him got the best of her. When he stroked her thigh, then pulled her close and captured a nipple she arched into him, lowering herself all the way, the head of his cock pressing against her womb.

  His hands grasped her thighs as he continued to suckle, his teeth grazing against her nipple. Rhylie threw her head back and started to rock, the pressure building inside her threatening to break free and send her tumbling over the edge, yet again.

  Just when she thought she would fly, he stopped her, pulling his mouth from her nipple and spreading his legs, upon which she’d been resting. She tumbled back, landing on the bed, her hips lifted by a pillow that magically appeared under her. Her feet were planted firmly on either side of his hips, and the blood rushed to her head as she lay back onto the bed, letting him take over.

  Sandro grasped her hips, keeping himself snug inside her. “Touch yourself.” His feather-soft voice made her quiver, and she spread her lips, her fingers finding her clit, brushing aside the hood and assault the tight bundle.

  Pleasure slammed into her as he pulled her into his cock, slamming into her until she thought he would become a permanent part of her body. She clutched him tightly, her pussy closing around his hardness, never wanting to let go.

  “How beautiful you look, giving yourself joy while I watch, so trusting and full of love, full of desire.

  His words washed over her as she played, spreading herself for him to see, making slow leisurely passes with her fingers, sliding down to where they were joined and teasing him, savoring the sound of his groans before sliding back up to her clit.

  He fucked her with a steady rhythm, encouraging her to play and please him, and herself, to let go and be his beautiful little star, shining brightly for everyone to see. Her body

  Rhylie knew the minute he came, could feel the warmth of his cum spread into her. For a split second she worried that they’d never discussed birth control, or anything other matters couples discuss before they make love for the first time. But then one half of the couple was usually not a djinni, or at least she didn’t think so.