by M. L. Ryan
When I didn’t respond, Alex reached over and stroked my cheek with his fingertips.
“I was worried that all this—what happened in the castle, everything—might be too much and you would chose to discontinue our relationship.”
“You can’t get rid of me that easily, Blondie,” I whispered as I leaned into him and pressed my lips to his. He started to say something, but I shushed him. “Shut up. We can talk later.”
He gracefully scooped me in his arms and lifted me from the sofa. I was already unbuttoning his shirt while he maneuvered into the bedroom, and by the time he deposited me on the bed, I was able to run my hands across the muscular planes of his bare chest.
He loomed over me as he removed his shirt, and then helped relieve me of mine. I hadn’t bothered with a bra, and he gazed appreciatively before leaning down to kiss me. There was nothing hesitant about him now; our tongues danced against each other’s as he stroked my breasts with one hand while deftly undoing my jeans with the other.
He sat up and I moaned my annoyance that he had stopped kissing me. He slowly unzipped his pants and pulled them off. In all the time we spent together in New Hampshire, I had never actually seen him in his underwear, and I had wondered if he was a brief or boxer guy. Apparently, he was neither. What was revealed when those pants cleared his hips was just as I had imagined, and it still made my breath catch.
I considered that three years without sex might have skewed my assessment ability, but he seemed really well endowed. Of course, it’s not like I had a lot to compare him to; maybe the four other guys I had slept with were phallus-light.
I resolved to concentrate on the business at hand, and I did so by taking Alex in hand. Not surprisingly, he felt as good as he looked. He closed his eyes at my touch and started to breathe more raggedly as I stroked his length. Alex moved away from me slightly, to allow the removal of my jeans and thong—thankfully, I hadn’t put on granny panties—and then focused his masterful mouth on my breasts.
I grabbed his head and ran my fingers through his hair as he concentrated first on one nipple, then the other. Just when I thought nothing could be more adept than his tongue, his hand slipped between my legs and the skillful use of his fingers proved me wrong. Intense pleasure rocketed through me as I propelled my hips against him and I yelled out something when I finally climaxed a few moments later.
I lay there, reveling in the waves of aftershocks that rolled over me. I became aware that Alex was kissing me again, but I was too out of it to react much beyond an occasional, satisfied moan.
When I had regrouped mentally, at least somewhat, I was feeling a little guilty that Alex had done all the work while I had reaped all the rewards. I also became coherent enough to remember that birth control measures were required.
“Ah, Alex?” It was still difficult to form complete sentences and he didn’t make it any easier with his mouth clamped over mine. “I hate to bring this up, but I think before we go any farther…”
“Hmmm?” he murmured against my lips.
I shifted a little so I could avoid his kisses long enough for me to complete my thought.
“Condom?”
He looked down at me, realization flashing across his previously passion-filled face.
“I didn’t bring any,” he groaned.
“Top drawer of my nightstand.”
He sat up and opened the drawer. His back was to me now, but I could tell he wasn’t doing anything except peering into it.
“Hailey,” he began tentatively, “Why do you have a basket filled with condoms next to your bed?”
“For my last birthday, Rachel and Chelsea thought it would be hilarious to get me a gift basket of fancy condoms. They thought it would be ironic since the chances of my using them were so slim.”
I could see his shoulders move up and down as he tried to suppress his laughter as he rooted around the contents of the basket.
“Well, they certainly assembled quite an assortment. I had no idea there was such a wide variety.”
He chuckled softly, reached in, and grabbed one. I heard a wrapper tear and could tell he was rolling one on, by both the sound it made, and the movement of his arms from behind. Alex looked over his shoulder and flashed a wicked smile my way. Then he stood and turned around.
The condom he had chosen was tricolored—blue on the bottom, white in the middle and red on top—and it even had a rounded point at the end, and looked a lot like a Rocket Pop.
“You think it’s flavored?” I asked.
He started to turn back to check the wrapper, but I did my own investigation. I slid my tongue up his entire length and back down the other side. I had to do that a couple of times before I was certain.
“Definitely not flavored,” I declared.
Alex quickly flipped me onto my back and hovered over me. “Then let’s not waste it on your taste buds.”
I wrapped my legs around him and he entered me, slowly, until I had taken him in completely. He paused, kissed me, and asked in a raspy voice, “You okay?”
I was way more than okay. It felt fantastic, but instead of wasting time answering, I began moving rhythmically to show him how okay it was. Alex closed his eyes and we synchronized our movements, slowly at first, then building in intensity. This time when I came, we did it together. That’s how it happened when we made love a second time, later that day, except it was at night, so we used a glow-in-the-dark condom instead.
The next morning, I woke up curled around Alex, with Vinnie sleeping on my pillow next to my head. I nuzzled Alex’s neck and he rolled onto his back before adjusting our positions so that I was pressed against him with my head resting on his chest.
He kissed the top of my head and said sleepily, “I really enjoyed sleeping with you before, but I’ve got to say, this is much, much better.”
I snuggled in closer. “Yeah, waking up satisfied is way better than waking up frustrated.”
Alex glanced over at the clock radio on the nightstand. “Hailey, it’s after eight, aren’t you going to be late for work?”
“I quit,” I mumbled into his collarbone.
“Really? When? Why?”
I propped myself up on one elbow. “Shortly after I got back. I think I want to find something more… I dunno… more socially redeeming.”
Alex shifted onto his side and stroked my cheek. “Well, I always thought you were capable of a lot more.”
“Yeah, Sebastian said the same thing.”
“He did, did he?”
“Well, actually I believe he said something closer to, ‘My dear, you are wasting yourself milking rodents so people with more money than sense can indulge their feckless, ethically bankrupt lifestyles with useless consumerism’.”
“That sounds more like Sebastian,” Alex commented with a grin. “Have any ideas what you might want to do instead of encouraging rich people’s extravagant food choices?”
I shrugged. “Not a clue.”
I ran my hand idly over his rippled abs and as I did so, I realized that if he had a heart transplant, there should be one big-ass scar on his chest. All I saw were the same angled scars I had seen when I first met him.
“How come you don’t have a scar here?” I asked as I trailed a finger down his sternum, “But you have all these others?”
“Remember in New Hampshire when you got burned and there was no scar after I healed it? The transplant scar was healed so it cannot be seen. I chose to keep the scars from wounds I received when I was forced to… dispatch someone who refused to be apprehended. So I couldn’t completely forget what I had done. Not that I dwell on those I’ve had to kill, but even when there is no other alternative, taking a life should never be taken lightly.”
I flopped over on my back and stared up at the ceiling. “I don’t think I’ll ever forget how it felt to kill Angelica,” I said softly.
Alex pulled me to him and draped his arm over me. “I’m sorry you had to experience that, but I’m not sorry Angelica was the o
ne to die instead of you. I should have realized that you might be troubled by it, and I’m also sorry that I didn’t arrange to have a Courso healer to help you work through it while I was gone.”
“Hey, it’s okay. You had enough on your mind.” I looked again at the faded marks crisscrossing his flesh.
“I’m here now, and I’ll help you deal with what you were forced to do.” He kissed me softly. “Some scars are best left on the outside.”
~21~
After two days of pretty much nothing but making love, eating, and sleeping, Alex and I finally put some clothes on. That’s kind of an exaggeration; we put some clothes on when we went in the kitchen for food, but somehow they never stayed on for very long. We did take a few showers during the forty-eight hours of bliss, but we had ended up messing around then, too, so to be fair, I had to count that under the heading of “making love”. Actually, the only reason we came up for air when we did was because we had exhausted the gift basket supply of protection and had to make a trip to the drugstore.
On the drive back, Alex and I discussed possible jobs I might find interesting. The problem was, many of the things I thought I would like to do, I either wasn’t really qualified for or would require a crap load of additional classes. I knew I was done with the whole school thing once I finished my master’s and I wasn’t thrilled with the idea of having to go through studying and tests again.
I hadn’t taken a class in years and still, every once in a while, I would have a dream that it was the end of the semester and I realized that I had registered for a class, but for some reason never went to it. I was completely screwed because it was too late to drop it and there was no way to make up all the work I had missed. No one needs that kind of pressure.
“You know, you could work for me,” Alex mentioned casually.
I thought he was joking, so I said, “Well, I’m sure the fringe benefits would be fantastic.”
“No, I’m serious. You’re smart, you have more common sense than most people I know, human or Courso, and you have an inquisitive mind that cuts through the bullshit and focuses in on what’s important. You would be a big help with research and low-level field work.”
“Low-level?”
“I mean nothing dangerous. But, there are things that humans are better suited for, particularly when it comes to surveillance. Courso criminals tend to overlook humans because they think, and usually rightly so, that they are no threat.”
I let out a derisive harrumph. “Yeah, that’s just what Otto and Angelica thought, and look what happened to them.”
Alex smiled. “My point exactly.”
It was an intriguing idea. But my previous foray into Xyzok business hadn’t really ended all that well.
“I don’t know, Alex. I’ll have to think about it.”
“No pressure,” Alex said with a shrug. “Just throwing it out there as a possibility. But I think you would be a natural.”
Everything was going so well, I should have known it was too good to be true. A couple of days later, I was busy pinning Vinnie to the floor in an attempt to trim his nails when I heard She Drives Me Crazy coming from my phone.
I had no problem ignoring it, so I continued with Vinnie’s pedicure. Unfortunately, Alex didn’t remember that was my mother’s unique ring tone, and knowing I was occupied, helpfully answered it.
From the other room, I heard, “Hello.” Pause. “No, you don’t have the wrong number. This is Hailey’s phone.” Pause. “Just a minute, I’ll get her.”
I sighed, knowing there was no way to avoid a conversation with my mother. I made a mental note to make certain Alex knew that, in the future, to never, ever tell my mother I was home without asking me first.
I let Vinnie go—at least he had reason to be happy that my mother was calling—and took the phone from Alex. He noticed my exasperated expression; it would have been hard for him not to. I might as well have had a sign on my head that said “Extremely Annoyed Woman”.
He looked so crestfallen. I waved him off and mouthed, “It’s okay,” so he wouldn’t feel so bad.
I took a deep breath, and with as much perkiness as I could muster, chirped, “Hi Mom,” into the phone.
“Hailey, it is not even eight o’clock in the morning. Who is that man that answered your phone?” she barked out, not even wasting time with normal pleasantries like “Hello” or “How are you?”
“That’s Alex. I was doing something so he answered for me.”
“And what is he doing there so early?”
“Mom, really.” I could see where this was going, and it wasn’t going to be pretty.
“Don’t you use that tone with me, young lady. I am your mother, and I deserve an answer to my question.”
“Mom, I’m not a child. I’m thirty years old and I’ve lived on my own since I went off to college. I don’t think I need to justify who is in my house and when.”
“Oh my dear lord! Did that man spend the night with you? Oh my dear lord! What nice man will ever want you now that you have been despoiled?”
Despoiled? Had she really just said that?
“Mom, in case you’ve forgotten, I’m not a virgin. I was married, remember?”
I could hear her mumbling what sounded like some kind of prayer under her breath, and I knew the waterworks were going to start any time now.
“Hailey Parrish. You know very well that I formed a prayer circle after your divorce,” she said the word “divorce” in a stage whisper, “and the Lord spoke to me and said your purity had been restored. But now…” Her voice trailed off and I could hear her starting to sniffle.
My head started to pound, and I knew my blood pressure was rising. I should have just ended the call then, but instead, I said, “Look, I wasn’t exactly a virgin before I got married, so it’s all kind of a moot point.”
I know it was mean of me to bait her like that. I had little patience for this in the best of times, and given everything that had transpired lately, my ability to deal with her crap was zero. You would have thought I had just told her I had taken up Satanism the way she was wailing and carrying on.
“Mom,” I said, trying to contain my annoyance.
“Where did I go wrong? Where did I go wrong?”
“Mom!” This time I shouted. “Look, I’m sorry you’re upset, but I’m not going to have this argument with you right now. I’m not despoiled and I’m not some harlot that needs saving. Say hi to Dad. I’ll talk to you some other time.”
I flung the phone onto the sofa and let out a long, loud scream of frustration. “That woman drives me insane!”
I stalked over to the sliding door, intending to open the blinds so I could go outside for some fresh air. I was so agitated that I kept pulling the wrong cord and instead of the slats moving together and sliding out of the way to allow access to the door, all I was doing was making them rotate individually to let more or less light in. This just elevated my already off-the-chart anxiety level and I turned around, thinking how good it would feel to break something right now.
As the thought materialized in my head, I felt a warm sensation in my fingertips. My hands shot out in front of me and there was a sudden rush of energy. Before I could process all that weirdness, the kitchen table splintered, and pieces of wood flew out in all directions.
Vinnie hissed and ran from the room. I stared, dumbfounded, first at what was left of the table, then at my hands, which were still extended in front of me. I turned my palms up and when I looked closely, I could swear there were tiny puffs of smoke rising from them.
Horrified and confused, I looked at Alex for help. He seemed a whole lot less shocked than I would have expected, given what had just happened. He pulled out his cell phone and punched in a number.
He looked directly at me as he spoke.
“Sebastian? It’s Alex. I think we have a problem.”
###
About the author:
M.L. Ryan is a professional woman - which is not to say that she
gave up her amateur status, but rather that she is over-educated with a job that reflects her one-time reluctance to leave school and get "real" work – and she spends a lot of time in that profession reading highly technical material. She has many stories rolling around in her head, and she finally decided to write some of them. She prefers literature that isn’t saddled with excruciating symbolism, ponderous dialogue or worldly implications. She also doesn’t like plots so reliant on love at first sight that it makes her feel like her head might implode.
M.L. Ryan lives in Tucson, Arizona with her husband and teenage son, four cats, two dogs and an adopted desert tortoise.
Like what you read? Purchase Special Rewards, Book 2 of the Coursodon Dimension Series.
Contact M.L. Ryan at: http://www.CoursodonDimension.com
On Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/CoursodonDimension
Twitter: @MLRyan1
Other books by M.L. Ryan:
Special Attraction, Book 3 of the Coursodon Dimension Series
Book 4 coming in 2015!
