by Lauren Wood
“All in good time,” he murmured. “I feel like I’ve been waiting for a lifetime for this, and I don’t want to rush it. I want to do everything I dreamed about last night.”
“What…” she moaned as he buried his tongue inside her. God, he loved the way her legs were shaking. “What else did you dream about?”
He smiled. He’d dreamed about having her straddling him and riding. He dreamed about having her bent over a kitchen table. He’d dreamed about tying her to the bed and blindfolding her, and, just now, he was picturing how she’d look under the flow of the showerhead as he pressed her up against the shower and made her scream.
“We’ll get to that,” he promised as he went back to loving her.
She panted and moaned, and when he added a couple of fingers, she stopped breathing altogether. When he finally stopped teasing her and started running his tongue over her with determination, she squeezed his head between her legs and squealed as the orgasm rocked through her.
God, he couldn’t take anymore. She barely opened her eyes when he was nudging at her entrance with her erection. “I wanted to give you more time,” he muttered as he tried to still himself. “I should give you more time.”
She planted her feet on the floor and lifted her hips to take more of him in, and as he slid the first few inches in her warmth, he couldn’t control himself anymore. With a shout, he drove himself home.
Cassie arched her back as he stretched her. “Yes,” she hissed. “God, yes.” He leaned over her and pumped his hips just a little, and her eyes widened. “There’s more?”
He laughed shortly. “Yes, but I won’t give you more than you can take,” he muttered. She could see the veins in his neck strain as he tried to control himself.
She drew her legs up, and he settled even deeper. “More,” she said hungrily. “I want more.”
He moaned and slid just a little more in. Her eyes popped open as she tried to adjust herself. She’d never had anyone reach that deeply, and she’d never imagined that it could feel like that. He satisfied a deep ache that she didn’t even know existed. The more he threatened the scratch, he more she itched. “Fuck,” she whimpered. “Can you give me more?”
He closed his eyes and finally sank all the way in. She immediately scissored her legs around him. “Don’t move,” she ordered. She wiggled her hips around in delight. “Max. That’s so good. Right there. That’s my new spot. That’s it.”
He grunted. “Cassie, I love that you want to play, but I’m about to lose my mind here.”
She licked her lips in anticipation. With a wicked grin, she managed to pulse her muscles around him, and he lost it. At the first full thrust of his hips, she knew that playtime was over.
He slid all the way in and hit that spot that made her toes curls. Slow at first, and then faster, and soon she was digging her nails into him. As pleasure coursed through her in waves, she could barely hang on.
“Don’t stop,” she cried out. She knocked her head on the floor and tried to keep up. He grabbed her legs and pulled them up. Balancing himself on his arms, he pumped faster, and she moaned. “Oh God. I think I’m going to die.”
“Look at me,” he demanded. “I want to hear you scream my name when you come.”
She locked eyes with him, and as he buried himself in her, she could take no more. “Max,” she panted. “Max. MAX!” She convulsed around him and gripped his hips.
He dropped to rest his forehead on hers. “Mine,” he roared, and slid in as far as he could go before he emptied himself inside her. For just a moment, she saw the lion come out and join them.
She dropped her legs, limp, and he rolled them over so she could rest on him.
“Can’t do anymore,” she whispered.
He chuckled. “I’d need a few minutes anyways.” He paused. “I own a woodworking business. I make furniture and cabinets and such.”
She stilled. She usually hated when the guy got personal afterwards, but she knew that fighting it was futile. He tensed under her, waiting for her response. Even if she wanted to get up and walk away, her legs wouldn’t let her.
“I’m a reporter. But I guess you already knew that,” she muttered as she nuzzled her face in the crook of his neck. He relaxed.
“I still have both my parents. I have three sisters, and I’m the alpha of the local pride.”
She propped her head on his shoulder and shuddered as he stroked a finger down her back. How was it that she was still responding to him? “I have an overbearing mother and no siblings.”
“My favorite color is blue, I like classical music, and I try to spend as much time outdoor as possible.”
She wrinkled her nose. “Black. Hard rock. And I’m a big fan of central heating and air conditioning.”
“Action movies, football, and red meat.”
She smiled. “Action movies, football, and red meat,” she echoed.
“At least three kids.”
She bit her lip. “In the future?”
“Whenever you’re ready.”
She wiggled on top of him. “Practice first, and then I think three kids might be in your future.”
“And a wedding. I’m a traditional man.”
She raised her eyebrows. This was getting serious quick, but what did she expect? There was no skirting around the truth. She belonged to him. And he belonged to her.”
“Fall. I like the colors better,” she said with a smile.
He laughed and reached up to kiss her. “Mine,” he said aggressively.
“Mine,” she countered and wiggled her hips.
“God,” he moaned. “You’re going to drive me insane for the rest of my life, aren’t you?”
She was delighted to find that he was already hard again, and she slid her hips over him, inch by inch. “That’s my plan,” she agreed.
It was slow and unhurried, and as he did things to her body that she never thought possible, she realized that some things really were meant to be. She had no doubt that he would love and treasure her for the rest of her life.
And she would do the same to him. “Cassie Torrents,” she whispered out loud.
His eyes widened, and as he gripped her hips, their lovemaking was no longer slow. As he pounded her, she gasped. “Like that, don’t you,” she managed just before she lost all capability to form words.
And for the fourth time in just a few hours, he made her fall apart.
And he was there to catch her.
THE END
BARBARIAN LUSTY LOVE
Chapter 1
I spent my entire life pleasing only myself. Admittedly, I have been selfish. But the truth is, I was actually scared. Scared of building myself up onto a pedestal only to secure my own demise. I always found it much easier to maintain low standards. It is hard for people to expect much from you when all you have ever done is glide. That way, no one gets hurt.
As of today, I wish I had done more.
The call came in late last night minutes after escaping the pursed lips of a drunken German. Granted, he was compelling and intelligent. His square jawline, blonde hair, and blue eyes immediately captured my attention. I let him smile at me, which apparently was a global stamp of approval allowing him to break the communication barrier.
“Hallo liebling.”
I jolted as his hand found the small of my back.
“Sorry, English. No German.” I lied, turning back to my drink.
I heard this term of endearment more times than I could count since I landed in Hamburg last week. My own blonde hair and blue eyes screamed Fräulein and apparently I had a sign on my forehead that read Single. But I wasn’t interested in the mindless bar-conversation that tended to lead to one thing: the bedroom.
“Felix.” He ignored and offered me his cold, clammy hand.
Uneasily I shook it using only my fingertips. “Pleasure.” I turned away.
“You haven’t told me your name yet.” His accent was rich and heavy.
“I hoped you didn’t sp
eak English.” I blurted seeing no reason to string him along.
“Funny.” He laughed and hopped up onto the stool beside me.
Why did guys always think I was trying to be funny? I was being blunt and honest. I was trying to avoid this very thing: conversation.
“So tell me funny-girl, where are you from?” He snapped his fingers to grab the bartender’s attention.
“I don’t know my address.” I sipped back the remainder of my beer and reached for my jacket. Felix placed his hand on my arm in attempt to stop me.
“No name and no address.” He smiled. “So you’re funny and mysterious.”
“No, I’m uninterested and exhausted.” I snapped back shrugging into my jacket.
“Bartender, zwei Bier!” He turns back to me. “Just one drink?”
I look at the door and then back at Felix. He was sort of handsome, in a college frat boy way. And who was I to pass up a free beer? I sat.
The bartender slid the beers along the counter toward us and Felix smoothed out a crumpled bank note against his thigh before tossing it to him.
I reach for my beer but Felix snatches it before I do.
“You get a free drink on one condition.” He pauses. “You tell me your name.”
“Kate.” I pulled my beer free from his clammy hand and bring it to my lips. Drinking might be the only thing that helped me survive the ten minutes of bar-talk with Felix.
“A beautiful name for a beautiful girl.”
Cliché.
My beer was half gone by now. Only minutes remained before I would receive the phone call that changed my life.
“You really don’t say much.” He reached out and tucked a piece of wavy blonde hair behind my ear.
I don’t like being touched. I pulled away.
“I’m only here for the free beer.” I rhymed and raised my near-empty glass in the air.
With the glass back to my lips, I sucked back the rest of the ale in a hurry to escape this touchy, space invading, German.
“Well Felix.” I turned back toward him. “Thanks for the drink.”
I got to my feet and he followed suit. Before I could protest his arms were around my waist and he was leaning over me with loose lips.
Then my phone rang. Saved by the bell. Or so I thought.
“Excuse me,” I smiled and wiggled my waist out of his reach.
Once outside, the cool November air filled my lungs. I breathed in deeply in attempt to eliminate the foul stench of smoke that lingered in the bar.
I fumbled around my bag in search of my mobile. Buried deep under ticket stubs and expired granola bars, I brought the device to my ear.
“Hello?”
“Hello, my name is Lieutenant Hooper. I am looking to speak to Kate Alley.” A woman’s voice spoke sweetly yet sternly.
“Speaking.”
“Ms. Alley, I understand that you are currently abroad and I apologize for the timing of this phone call.” Lieutenant Hooper exhaled. “We have some bad news about your parents.”
***
My parents’ decision was to be cremated in event of an accident. There was no ceremonial burial, no flowers, and no fuss. We had no family remaining. Mom and Dad were each an only-child and my grandparents had passed when I was young. There were no aunts, uncles, or cousins to mourn the loss of my parents. I was the only Alley remaining.
It had been more than four years since I stepped down on American soil. After my high school graduation I packed my bag and never returned.
Mom and Dad always called to check in on special occasions such as birthdays, Christmas, and Easter. With every phone call came the desperate question, “When are you coming home?”
Home: This is a word I would never fit into. I never stayed anywhere long. When people started remembering my name, I took it as a sign to move on. Habitually my bag would be packed and I would disappear with the next rising sun.
Now standing here, alone, I felt unfamiliarity. For the first time, I was regretful. Mom called me last Christmas with pre-purchased tickets that would take me from the beaches of Thailand to the cold winter of North Dakota. Unsurprisingly, I didn’t show.
The breeze picked up sending my hair into a spiraling mess. A slumped down to the ground and rested my head on the tombstone behind me.
Cathleen and Kevin Alley
2370-2416
Beloved parents of Kate
I traced my fingers along the engraving.
Beloved parents of Kate.
BelovedparentsofKate.
Beloved. Parents. Of. Kate.
I was uncertain if my parents requested this inscription on purpose. Perhaps in hopes that in their afterlife they would be reminded that they did in fact have a daughter. Or maybe it was my Mom and Dad’s way of reminding me that I did in fact have parents.
I continued tracing daughter in attempt to make the word sink in. I had parents who loved me and supported me. They asked nothing of me except the occasional visit which I tirelessly declined. This was the first time I realized that even through all of my coasting in life, I did indeed unintentionally succeed at letting them down. I traced daughter until my fingertip went numb.
Mom and Dad had always been good to me. In fact, they were exceptional parents. They didn’t deserve to be treated the way I treated them.
I remember at four years old I would watch my mother getting ready before a date night with Dad. The babysitter would be waiting impatiently downstairs but I didn’t care. I loved watching Mom.
She would get me to brush her long blonde hair one hundred times until it shone in the light of the moon. I would count one, two, three – slowly, careful to annunciate every number just right. Meanwhile she would primp herself and apply her makeup. Mom was the most beautiful person I had ever met in my life. I think it was because she didn’t exactly know it. It was a simple, unrecognized beauty and I longed for that.
When I was ten, Dad would always sneak me out of the house when Mom wasn’t paying attention. He would smuggle me and take me to R-rated movies. We would eat way too much popcorn and end up crawling back to the front doorstep with our bellies full of popcorn and minds saturated with gory films. Mother’s intuition never failed, that or we were terrible liars. Either way, Mom always caught us and we would each get sent to our rooms.
The clouds hung heavy overhead casting darkness through the cemetery. For an instant, I could have sworn I felt a hand on my shoulder.
“I’m sorry.” My voice was in a low whisper. I tucked my hands in my pockets, peeling myself away from being a daughter. Fighting back the tears, I got to my feet and kissed my parents goodbye.
***
It had been a sunny November weekend when Mom and Dad hopped on their motorcycle with intention of grabbing some ice cream. The driver of the Cadillac was scolding his children in the back seat when the collision occurred.
Killed instantly. No suffering. Those were the phrases Lieutenant Hooper chanted in my ear. The words clung to my memory and like a bad gum commercial, I played them over and over again in my head.
For the first time, it saddened me that my entire life fit into one bag. I held it tight between my knees not willing to let it out of my sight.
Impatiently, I waited in the stale, crowded station. Fifteen minutes remained before I would be called to the portal room. These were my last few minutes I would spend on Earth.
Around me, women sat with their eager children shushing them and telling them they would see their daddies soon enough.
Ever since the portal rooms had opened to the public two hundred years ago, people flocked to the idea of experiencing life outside of Earth. Right away, men took advantage to find work on neighboring planets. The demand for iron was rapidly growing and resources were becoming slim on Earth. With portal access, many men left home with hopes of finding work on Mercury.
Over time, people viewed portals as a comfortable means of travel. Popular tourist destinations such as France and Italy had become mundane. The th
rill of space tore many people away from Earth. Most were reluctant to return so the population began to dwindle on Earth.
These are the reasons I took to travelling. I could find solace and peace standing in front of sites, such as Stonehenge or the Eiffel Tower, which would traditionally be overcrowded with tourists. Now, they remained abandoned and forgotten. With the population using space travel, I was able to experience life on Earth to its fullest.
“Ms. Kate Alley to Neptune.” Droned over the loudspeaker.
I took a moment to catch my breath. With my time on Earth expired, I looked around. My last glimpse of Earth contained a homeless woman peddling at my feet and a teenage kicking a vending machine in hopes of scoring free chocolate. This sight only fueled my desire to leave this life behind.
With my back over my shoulder, I approached the agent desk.
“Ticket.” The woman demanded flatly.
I placed my ticket on the counter and slid it toward her.
“Identification.”
I placed my thumb on the scanner in front of me and watched as my entire life’s profile appeared on the screen in front of the agent.
She coughed and typed furiously on the keyboard in front of her. Between the permanent scowl on her face and her hair pulled back so tightly in a bun, I thought her face must hurt. I flinched envisioning her pain.
“One way portal entry from Earth to Neptune. How long is your projected stay?” Her voice was flat, monotone.
“Undecided.”
She hammered on the keyboard again. “Do you require an immigration application?”
“No thank you.” I had no idea how long I would be staying in Neptune. I only picked it because it was the furthest planet from Earth. Once I got there, I had no plan or idea what I would do next.
“Take this.” She handed me a thin plastic key. “Follow the directions when you enter the room. Door twelve. Enjoy your stay.” I wondered how many times she rehearsed this phrase to make it sound so hollow.
The hallway had an eerie glow. The fluorescents danced off the shiny plaster floor and made me feel inebriated. I stumbled along until I saw the number twelve painted on the outside of a small door. My key slid effortlessly into the lock.
