Chailali’s Curse

by Anna Leigh Keaton

  Her nipples tightened against his palms, and she moaned, leaning into his touch.

  “What color are your eyes?” he asked. He’d formed a picture of her in his mind. He knew her body, each luscious curve and hallow. Her face was slightly rounded, and she had a stubborn little chin and full, juicy lips... But the fine details were still a mystery he wanted to know. He wanted to see her. Her silhouette blocked out the sun, but all he could see was a shadow of her.

  “Hazel,” she said on a moan. “More green than brown.”

  Her fingers wrapped around his cock again, and his hips jerked, pressing him into her palm. And then she was rolling on a condom, and he had to bite his tongue to keep from groaning as his body tensed. He worried he wouldn’t last long once he got inside her, so he reached between their bodies, tangling his fingers in her crinkly pubic hair.

  She whimpered, and her grip tightened around him.

  As he rubbed his thumb against her hardened clit, he slipped two fingers deep into her silky heat, finding her hot, slick, and ready to take him. A shudder ran through his body, and he lay back in the cool sand. “Take me in, honey. I need you.”

  When she went up on her knees, he withdrew his fingers and gripped her hips. Her skin was cool to the touch, smooth as the rose petals he’d compared her to just that morning. And then she was lowering over him, sinking down so slow it was torture.

  Fingers biting into her soft, smooth flesh, he thrust up and buried himself. His balls tightened as she cried out and fell forward, her hands landing against his chest. She panted, and her inner muscles contracted around him.

  “Oh, my God,” she whispered. “You feel better than—”

  He thrust again, feeling her hot, sweet wetness against his testicles. She moaned, and her fingers tightened in his shirt.

  Too close. Too close. He gritted his teeth and squeezed his eye shut. No fucking way was he going to come before she did. No way.

  “Ride me,” he said, clenching his jaw.

  “I can’t... I’m going to...”

  Instead of flipping her over and pounding into her as he wanted, he thrust up into her, deep and hard, and reached between them again. Fingering her clit, he kept up the hard pace, holding his breath, praying he could last.

  “Mike... Oh... Oh... Ohh!”

  Her inner muscles clenched around him, milking him. He grabbed her hips once again and thrust two more times, as much as he could take. A shout ripped from his lungs as stars exploded in his mind, and he came so hard he thought he’d died.

  Christy collapsed over him, her puffed breaths hot against his neck, her tight warmth still pulsing around his cock. He wrapped his arms around her and buried his face in her hair. Good thing he was lying down, he thought as he went lightheaded.

  “That was so worth the trip to the store,” Christy said. “Good thing we got so many condoms.”

  He chuckled and swept his hand down her back, then up under her shirt so he could feel her skin. Goose bumps popped out against his palms. “Oh? Why’s that?”

  “’Cuz once we get back, I don’t think I’m ever letting you out of bed again.”

  * * * * *

  “I’m hungry,” Christy said as she straightened Mike’s shirt for him then went up on her toes to kiss his lips. He tasted so good, and part of her wanted to stay right here with him all day. But her stomach was telling her it was lunchtime.

  “We have apples,” he said with a teasing smile as he stroked his fingers along her jaw line, making her tingle. The man had the most magical hands of anyone she’d ever met. Just a touch set her blood to zinging.

  She made sure Mike was steady on his feet then knocked sand from her shoes before slipping them on. “The apples are for pie.” And what she really wanted was to spend more time with Mike in town. To get him better accustomed to being in public. If only she could push her own problems aside for the day.

  “We better get home then,” Mike said as he held out his arm for her.

  She picked up her purse and put the long strap over one shoulder. “Actually...” She grabbed the grocery bags then tucked herself against Mike’s side and wound her arm around his waist. “There’s a place in town I saw that had an outdoor deck. Just down and across the street from Ryan’s. Do you think they’d serve us lunch out there, even though it’s October?”

  “Hank’s?” he asked. “He’s Ryan’s brother—Hank is. The pub has been around for over twenty years. Caryn and I used to eat there quite a lot. I’m sure he’d be willing to let us sit on the patio, but...are you sure you’re ready for that?”

  If she could be outside, rather than in the restaurant, she’d most likely be okay. Especially if they were the only idiots sitting outside at this time of the year. The weather was beautiful, though. And in town, blocked by the big pine trees and buildings, there was less wind blowing through off the ocean.

  “Could we try?” she asked, wondering if his reluctance had more to do with him than her problems. “I mean...”

  “I don’t have any money on me. I didn’t expect to stop anywhere but Ryan’s, and he just sends the bills to my accountant.”

  “I have cash.”

  As they made their way back up the beach to the parking lot, Mike was silent. Maybe she was pushing him too hard too soon. He might need more time to acclimate to reentering society. She wanted to tell him she’d protect him from women like those in the store earlier. And she needed him to know, to really believe, that she didn’t give a damn what anyone said about him or her or them as a couple. After being so isolated for the past year and a half, after finding him and the love for him that grew every second inside her, she wanted him to know she’d stand by him no matter what.

  With him by her side, talking her through the steps that calmed her, she thought she’d like nothing better than to sit down and have a meal prepared by someone else for a change. A meal she could share with Mike.

  “We’re stepping up onto the pavement now.” She let him feel his way with his cane and guided him up onto the incline that led to the parking lot.

  “All right,” he said as they passed the first buildings on the way back into town. “If you want to go to Hank’s, we can.” He didn’t sound as if he really wanted to.

  She laid her head against his shoulder as they slowly walked down the sidewalk, passing pretty little touristy-type shops, a veterinary clinic, and the tiniest post office she’d ever seen. What a wonderful place to raise children.

  The thought hit so hard she felt as if she’d been slapped. She nearly stumbled, and her breath caught.

  Children? Why was she thinking about children? Three years ago, when she turned thirty-two and had no serious prospects for love, marriage or any of that kind of stuff, she’d firmly told herself she wouldn’t think about it anymore. Obviously the chance to have kids had passed her by. Any hope that had been lingering died when Peter walked out on her after the robbery.

  “What’s wrong?” Mike asked, coasting his hand up and down her arm. “You tensed. Have you changed your mind?”

  She shook her head. “No. No, I was thinking about something else. Sorry.”

  An old pickup drove past on the street, and the passenger, a middle-aged woman, turned her head to stare at them. Christy would just have to get used to things like that happening. Being from L.A., and being a very common-looking woman, she’d never elicited stares before, and it was a bit discomfiting. She wondered just how many people knew Mike—or had known him and Caryn before...

  “What were you thinking about?”

  If she asked him if there were good elementary schools in the area, he’d probably freak out. “We’re here,” she said instead. She knew she’d have to go through the restaurant to get to the deck. There wasn’t any way to get up on it from the outside unless she crawled over the hand rail—now that might attract a bit of unwanted attention.

  “Are you sure you want to do this?” Mike asked, concern lacing his voice.

  “Uh huh.” She could see thr
ough the window there were only a few patrons, a half-dozen at most. The pub was small and cozy looking. From the front door to the door of the patio was only a few feet, with the front counter and cash register just inside to the right.

  “Honey. I can’t remember how it’s set up, but I think we have to go inside to get to the patio.”

  “I know.” She sucked in a deep breath and reached into her pocket to withdraw the pack of bubblegum. “I have my focal point, and I have you. I’ll be fine.”

  “Okay then,” Mike said and gave her hand a reassuring squeeze when she laced her fingers through his.

  She took a few steps forward then instructed him on the four steps going up to the door. When they stood on the wooden porch, she did her deep breathing and forced the muscles in her neck and shoulders to relax. As soon as she thought she had herself under control, she reached for the ornate knob and turned it.

  The sound of an old Willy Nelson song floated to her from a jukebox in the far corner. The pub was quaint with scuffed hardwood floors and booths lining one wall. A smattering of tables took up most of the floor. The bar itself looked like something out of an old west movie, with brass rail, mirror behind it, and all.

  “Michael Hanson? Well, I’ll be goddamned!”

  Christy turned with a start at the boisterous voice to see a white-haired man coming toward them from the direction of the bar. Her heartbeat sped, and she gripped Mike’s hand as her only anchor.

  The man came toward them, and she steadied herself. He looked just like Ryan, only a bit younger. He must be Hank.

  “Ryan called and told me you were in town, but I didn’t believe him.” Hank slapped Mike on the shoulder in greeting, a huge grin splitting his face. “Good to see you, man.”

  “Hello, Hank. If you don’t mind, could we sit out on the patio?”

  Hank turned his gaze on her then, but his grin never wavered. “Of course, of course. You go right on out. Can I get you anything to drink?”

  “Water,” Christy said, her throat parched. She tugged Mike’s hand as she headed for the safety of outside. As soon as she crossed the threshold, she sucked in a deep gulp of air and realized she’d been holding her breath.

  Not so bad, she told herself. Better than the store. A little better anyway.

  “You okay, hon?”

  She nodded then realized Mike couldn’t see it. “Yeah.” A small smile of triumph flitted over her lips. “I’m okay. He seems nice.” She led him to a table made out of a giant cable spool. The chairs were metal and thickly padded. Once Mike was situated and hooked his cane over the back of his chair, she set down the grocery bags and pulled her purse from her shoulder. Then she moved her own chair close to his and sat down, immediately reaching for his hand.

  “Hank and Ryan are both great guys,” he said, skimming his thumb over the back of her hand, making her shiver with pleasure. She loved his touch, and it soothed her like nothing ever had. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  “Uh huh. I’m fine.” She smiled at his concern then leaned over and kissed his cheek. “It was easier than the grocery. Maybe I’m...getting better.”

  He smiled at her then released her hand to wrap his arm around her shoulder and pull her close for a moment. “I’m so proud of you,” he whispered.

  The door opened, making her jump a bit, but Mike smoothed his hand down her arm as he held her close.

  “So, Ryan tells me you’re Mike’s new housekeeper,” Hank said as he set two tall glasses of ice water on the table, then laid down two menus.

  “She’s much more than that,” Mike answered before she could open her mouth to agree. He grinned in Hank’s direction.

  She picked up her water and gulped some down.

  Hank chuckled. “I can see that. Anything that gets you out of the house and back into the Cove, I’m all for it. Pretty little thing you got yourself, too.”

  Christy’s face heated at his comment, and she ducked her head to hide the blush she was sure turned her face bright red.

  “Hank, meet Christy Smythe, my agent’s sister. Christy, this is Hank Robins, Ryan’s brother.”

  When Hank held out his hand to her, she shook it. “Nice to meet you,” she murmured.

  “Pleasure is definitely all mine, sweetheart. So, do you need a few minutes to decide?”

  “Ah, no,” Mike said, even as she reached for the menu. “You still have those big ‘ol burgers?”

  “You know it.”

  “Okay. Two with everything, and a cherry malt with two straws.”

  Christy grinned. Seeing Mike comfortable, and around someone who was obviously a friend, was heartwarming. “That sounds good.”

  Hank winked and picked up the menus. “Good enough. It’ll be out in a few minutes.”

  When Hank had gone back inside, Christy poked him in the ribs. “What gives you the right to order for me?”

  Mike chuckled. “There’s only three things on the menu, love. Burgers, fish and chips, and booze.”

  “Maybe I wanted fish and chips.” She tried to sound put out, but her tone was more petulant and teasing than anything—which they were.

  Mike ran his hand over her shoulder then tangled his fingers in her hair, pulling her close so he could kiss her. “Next time,” he whispered before he caught her lips in a sizzling kiss that curled her toes and made her blood zing through her veins.

  She moaned and clutched at his shoulder, wishing the arms of the chairs didn’t separate them.

  Mike pulled away and tipped his head back as he sucked in a deep breath. “Damn.”

  “What?” she asked, concerned he was hurting. The look of agony straining his features was unmistakable.

  “How long’s it been? A half hour?” He tilted his head, his forehead bumping lightly against hers. “I need you again.”

  She glanced down at his crotch to see his erection straining against his jeans. A breathy laugh slipped out, and she smoothed her hand down his chest before pulling his sweatshirt down a bit to cover the evidence of his arousal.

  Mike chuckled. “What you do to me, honey...”

  She laid her head on his shoulder. “The same you do to me.”

  “We need to change the subject.”

  She laughed. “Okay. What do ya want to talk about? The weather? It’s nice, isn’t it?”

  “Smartypants.” He tugged on a lock of her hair then kissed her forehead. “I want to know more about you.”

  “Like what? You already know everything.” Everything important, anyway, she thought with a frown.

  “How did a girl from L.A. get to a fancy east coast culinary school? And then how did she wind up managing a sandwich shop back in L.A.?”

  She shook her head and laughed. “Beth tell you that?”

  He shrugged and smiled. “Maybe.”

  “Well, for your information, it wasn’t a sandwich shop—she makes it sound like I worked at Subway or something. Bistro Italiano is a little, upscale, Italian restaurant that yes, specializes in sandwiches, but also has the best pasta anywhere in L.A.”

  Christy sighed and turned slightly so she could look out over the street. A little bit of traffic was picking up here and there, but it was still mostly quiet. The fall decorations, along with the crisp, cool air, made her smile. It was almost—though not quite as festive—as the little towns on the eastern seaboard in the fall.

  “I always enjoyed cooking,” she said, picking up where the conversation had left off. “By the time I was fourteen, I’d pretty much shooed Mom right out of the kitchen and taken over. I took a couple cooking classes at the junior college my senior year in high school, and it was there that I got a chance to participate in a nationwide contest. The winner got a full-ride scholarship to a New York culinary school of their choice.” She shrugged and grinned. “I won.”

  “Pretty impressive. What did you make that won?”

  “Apple pie.” She tipped her head and looked into his face to see his wide grin.

  “I’m very much looking
forward to that pie.”

  She laughed. “I spent three years in New York, and then came back to the west coast. I’d been offered a job working under Wolfgang Puck after I graduated, but I just couldn’t stay out there. I missed Beth and Mom too much.”

  “Where did you work once you were back out here?”

  “Here and there. It took me a long time to find my niche. I landed a job in an upscale pastry shop, and was there for about five years. But the owner sold the business, and I didn’t care for the new guy, so I left. That’s when I was hired at Bistro Italiano. I was there until...”

  She didn’t want to talk about it, and she definitely didn’t want to think about it. “I moved up from chef to head chef, but it was after the owner fell ill and I stepped in to cover his responsibilities for a couple of months, that he offered me the position as manager—since he didn’t have one before that. I still got to play in the kitchen on occasion, and the pay was good. I was happy there.”

  Mike gently feathered his fingers through her hair as she fell silent. She’d really liked that job, and she missed it. She missed the life she’d built for herself. Her condo she’d had to sell to support herself after she moved in with Beth and Roger. The people she’d called friends for years.

  Mike’s voice was low and gentle when he asked, “Do you think you could be happy in a small town like this once you get your...problems...under control?”

  Like this one? Or this one? With him?

  Only with him.

  She turned her head and brushed her lips against his jaw. She wanted so badly to tell him how she felt, and with a lead in like the one he’d just given her...

  Opening her mouth, she was cut off when the door opened and Hank came out carrying two plates piled with French fries and a humongous burger in one hand and a tall milkshake in the other.

  “Here you go,” he said as he set everything on the table in front of them.

  Christy sat up straight and smiled at Hank. It was probably best she hadn’t said what she wanted to. It was way too soon to open up so fully to Mike. She might have been out of the dating loop for a heck of a long time, but she wasn’t stupid. A woman dumb enough to admit strong feelings to a man one day after first having sex with him? Well, he was likely to run as fast as he could.