by Brandi Evans
Lyndi rolled her eyes.
When Traci walked by, she leaned close to Lyndi and whispered, “Don’t forget to use condoms this time, okay?”
“I won’t.” Lyndi gave Trace a playful push toward the stairs, but before she took her first step down, Seth took her by the elbow.
“These stairs are pretty steep. Let me help you down.”
As she watched her lover help her super-preggers sis down the stairs, Lyndi fought back another wave of tears. Seth the protector. He was too-sexy-to-be-true awesome. She wanted to be much more to this man than just a vacation fuck.
As if she needed more proof that she was an emotional goner.
When he returned, she stepped back and motioned him into her loft. “Come on in. I’ll put these in, uh, some water. My place isn’t much, but I love it.”
“I can see why. It’s very open, very free.”
She grabbed a vase from under the sink and tried to observe the space like someone seeing it for the first time. Despite its limited size, her place was indeed open. Aside from the four outer walls, the only other “wall” was little more than a chest-high balcony overlooking her studio. A small but adequate kitchenette sat to the right. Living area with sofa, coffee table, and recliner took the center of the space. Lastly, her queen-size bed, with its pastel quilt, ornate headboard, and matching nightstands, finished out the left side of the room.
“It’s not much,” she said. “Just a renovated warehouse really, but it’s all I need. I bought it mainly because of the space downstairs. My gallery and personal studio.”
“I hope I’ll get a tour.” He moved to the railing and looked down at her studio. “I’m guessing you can access the downstairs from the loft. I didn’t notice a second door or anything when I was on my way up.”
She pointed to the double doors on the far wall, next to the fridge. “That’s the freight elevator, and it goes down to the studio. The doors on either side of the elevator require password access to keep out unwanted visitors. I had them installed right after I bought the place.”
“Nice.”
She set the vase on the counter and started arranging flowers. “Make yourself comfortable. Would you like a drink? I make a mean mimosa.”
“No thank you. I don’t drink alcohol. I wouldn’t mind a glass of OJ, though.”
“You don’t—” Lyndi stopped arranging flowers mid-sentence. “What?”
Those words made no sense to her. Who didn’t drink? At least a little bit every once in a while? Dad didn’t drink, of course, but he was a recovering…
“Oh my God,” she breathed, turning from the flowers and reaching for Seth. “You’re an alcoholic, aren’t you? I’m sorry I didn’t—”
He shook his head, his smile amused. “I’m not an alcoholic, Lyn. I just don’t drink. Never have.”
“Just don’t…really? Never? As in never ever?”
“Nope.” He leaned his big frame on the counter next to her, looking way sexier than any human should be allowed. “Never saw the benefit.”
“Never saw the benefit? Never saw the…”
She shook her head. Soft-spoken, tortured past he didn’t want to talk about, a lover of the arts and he didn’t drink. Had she actually found a bona fide gentleman?
“You drink to loosen up, Seth. To help calm the voices in your head that keep telling you that you need to work a little longer, get a little more work done.”
Dull the pain so that it doesn’t feel as if it’s about to crush you alive.
She didn’t tack on the last part. She didn’t need nor want that particular reminder. Too painful.
Seth shook his head, low-rumbling laughter in his throat. “So that’s how to get rid of the voices. Huh. If only I’d known earlier.”
Lyndi couldn’t stop from laughing too. When Seth smiled and joked, it was just too damn easy to forget all the problems and possible baggage he brought with him.
“Actually,” he said, “I prefer meditation to help me relax.”
“Meditation?” She was pretty sure her eyes popped from their sockets. “As in candles, sounds of the ocean…saying ommmm?”
“Well, I don’t typically say ommmm, and I prefer the scent of nature over the smell of artificial aromas. The middle of the forest, a beach at sunrise, a secluded mountain cliff, vanilla orchid fields. When trying to get in tune with nature, I find it best to become a part of nature.”
Smiling, he dragged a knuckle down the side of her cheek. The heated sensation accompanying his touch set out on a leisurely journey through her body, and she couldn’t help herself from moving even closer. He was a magnet, a hot, dreamy magnet who had opened up to her, even if it wasn’t much. His past might still be a mystery, but she’d take this tiny victory. Knowing he meditated and didn’t drink said a lot about the man. Maybe tomorrow—please God let him be around tomorrow—she’d get him to open up more.
He slipped his arms around her, drew her tight against his mountainous body, his face turning serious. “I should have said this when I got here, but I’ve been thinking about you all damn morning.”
“Really?” God, it was a stupid question, but she kind of felt a little stupid right now.
Stupid in love.
He didn’t use words to answer; instead, he used his lips. His kiss was little more than a quick, soft peck but it kick-started her libido.
“I was really, really hoping to spend the rest of the day lost in your body, Lyn, and forget about everything else.”
That was it, the final nail in her restraint. She was done fighting, questioning. He’d probably break her heart in a few days, but she couldn’t seem to stop herself from falling for this man any more than she could stop her body from requiring oxygen. Somehow, someway, she’d make this work between them, but right now, she needed to charm the pants off him. Literally.
She wrapped her arms tightly around his neck and captured his lips with hers. His strong arms lifted her until her legs dangled. Before she could take her next breath, they were across the room and kneeling on the bed. She pushed off his jacket, peeled off his shirt, and exposed the hard plane of his chest to her greedy eyes.
The thick lines of his pecs were rigid and sharp. And oh-my-fucking-God, where they met the top of his chiseled abs—was it possible for such perfection to exist? Apparently, yes, because she was ogling it right now.
Slow down.
The explosions of pure passion last night had been great, but today she wanted to explore every inch of the powerful man darkness had hidden from her. She wanted to indulge in each line and contour of his body, commit them all to memory. She couldn’t stop her fingertips from tracing along the contoured surface of his chest. He was like curved steel with a layer of flesh pulled taut across the surface.
“I really need to paint you,” she whispered, unable to take her eyes off a chest that could very well have been the inspiration of Michelangelo’s David.
No, David was a couch potato with a beer belly compared to Seth.
“You want to paint me right now?” He grabbed the hem of her tank and tugged, mischief lacing his voice. The trouble in his eyes sent a jolt of arousal between her legs.
She laughed, lifting her arms so he could pull the cotton free. “Well, if we wait much longer, the portrait’s gonna end up being a nude,” she teased back.
“I’ll think about it.”
“You’ll think about it?” Laughing, she popped the button of his pants, peeled down the zipper, and reached inside to wrap her fingers around his stiff cock. “I can be very persuasive, ya know?”
“We’ll see about that.” He brushed the hair from her shoulders and pressed his lips against the sensitive dip above her collarbone.
“Mmm, I like that. The way your lips and tongue work together.” Oh so slowly, she stroked his length, reveling in the feel of him in her hands. “Of course, I liked the combo better when you applied it to more intimate parts of my body.”
“Like your pussy?”
“Th
at’s one place, yes.”
He laughed, a deep-throat rumble that vibrated all the way to said body part.
Her panties were already wet, her sex primed and ready for him. She really needed to lose that particular garment but not until Seth lost his.
“Lay back,” she said.
“In a minute.” He licked his way over her collarbone, down the center of her chest, and stopped only when he reached the valley between her breasts. He traced the tip of his tongue along the underside of the mound before thoroughly working his way to her nipple.
She moaned as he suckled the peak. He savored her like he’d never wanted another woman as much as he wanted her. It was such a mother-fucking turn-on. And she needed to put a stop to it.
“Okay, Seth, I’m serious. Lay back.” She released his length and, palms to his chest, pushed him backward. When he landed, the bed squeaked and shook under his massive frame. “Thank you.”
Since his pants were already unfastened, one good yank sent them flying. Boxers too. And Lyndi froze.
Mary Mother of God. Seth naked on her bed, sprawled out in all his manly glory was, was, was…
“Extraordinary,” she breathed.
If given more time, she might’ve been able to come up with a better, sexier adjective to describe him but “extraordinary” totally worked. The way the skin of his torso molded over every muscle. All those perfect lines and contours, colors, and textures.
The view got better when her gaze ventured lower. He had the thighs of an athlete, powerful and solid. And his cock… She’d said it best last night. Impressive. Very, very impressive.
“Oh, I’m definitely gonna need to paint you,” she said. “Right here in my bed…naked. For posterity, of course.”
“Will you be nude when you paint me?” He stuffed a pillow behind his head, interlaced his fingers behind his neck. The muscles of his biceps bulged, big, beautiful, and begging for her lips to trace each hard curve. He was a portrait of total arrogance, posing for her erotic pleasure.
“What do you say we forgo the painting altogether,” Seth murmured, “and just use a video camera? It’s simpler and we can relive this moment over and over and over.”
She knew he was joking. Mostly. Yet as she leaned forward and pressed her lips against the inside of his right upper arm, she found herself considering his voyeuristic request. Seth would look incredible on film, no doubt about it. Her? Not so much. Especially when her partner looked like a shoo-in for Mr. Universe, and she looked like, well, Lyndi Garrison.
Still, she couldn’t help but carry on the banter. “I’d rather relive fucking you by actually, ya know, fucking you over and over again, but for argument’s sake, let’s say I said yes. What would you like to do on our first recorded romp?”
“Hmm. Hard to narrow down those options.”
She drew her tongue in a small circle over the flexed muscle of his biceps. He smelled like a salty, breezy ocean morning—and tasted even better. Did the rest of his hard, uh, muscles taste this incredible? Her mouth practically watered to find out.
Still, she managed to keep her explorations slow. She stopped to swirl her tongue over his flat nipple and then inside his bellybutton.
“Pretend the camera’s on us right now,” she said. “Tell me what you want me to do to you.”
“Well, you could start by making good on the little promise you made me last night.”
“I think I’ll go down on you first, ya know…even up the orgasmic count for the night. I’m dying to get my mouth on your cock.”
Oh, yeah. She would so make good on that promise.
At least the going-down-on-him part. She wasn’t sure she’d be able to hold off her blistering need to take his thick cock inside her and ride him until they came together. Hot and sweaty—
And if she kept thinking like that, she definitely wouldn’t last long.
Scooting down the bed, she forced what was left of her dwindling brainpower to think of only Seth’s pleasure. She ran her fingers along his inner thighs and cupped his balls, careful to keep her mouth out of contact with his package. Her body buzzed in protest to her restraint, but she held firm to her decision. She would take her time with him, taste him, torture him. Her self-control would make the reward of his cock later that much sweeter.
Breathing in his musky, male scent, she opened her mouth and skimmed her lips along the warm skin of his erection.
“Mmm, Lyn.”
The sound of his gravelly moan was the ultimate turn-on.
She shifted her attention lower and mouthed his balls with the same contact-no-contact touch. In this position, his cock lay heavy against her cheek. Temptation begged her to turn her head and swallow his dick whole, but she stopped herself.
Man oh man, restraining herself was harder to do than she’d thought. Why do you have to be so fuckingly, irresistible, Seth Jones?
She skimmed her lips back up his length, to his glans. His thighs tensed, the muscles hardening against her breasts. His crinkly leg hair teased over her nipples and sent shots of arousal right to her already screaming pussy.
She circled the outer edges of her lips along his tip, as if using the forming drop of precum at his slit as lip balm—and boy were her lips dry. One loop, then two. That was all she could stand before the need to taste him truly overwhelmed her.
Gripping the base of his sex with both hands, she swallowed his head and dipped her tongue into the slit at his tip. His cock pulsed in her hands and in her mouth as she drank every drop of delicious precum.
How much longer could she stand this?
She released him but didn’t pull back far. “Calm down,” she murmured to herself, turning her head to rub her cheek along his shaft and breathing in the masculine scent of his arousal.
He laced his fingers through her hair. He didn’t try to direct her mouth back to his erection—just cradled her scalp. His breath was harsh as he spoke. “Remember, Lyn, turnabout—”
“Is fair play? Yeah, I’m banking on that.” She peered up at him through her lashes, turned her head, and traced her tongue over the thick nerve that ran the length of his shaft.
His eyes rolled back in his head, his face frozen as if he were already on the brink of orgasm.
God. Seeing the way she affected him was pure pleasure; she might as well be pleasuring herself.
Six
Heaven.
He’d said it last night, and he meant it. Being with Lyndi, at her mercy, spinning faster and faster in a funnel of her love until he was delirious with need…
Yes, this was indeed heaven.
As far as he was concerned, being with her like this was enough. More than enough. He’d stay here for the rest of eternity if he could, but fate was a cruel mistress who got off on the harsh curveballs she threw at the unprepared subjects who populated her kingdom—and the kingdom was indeed hers. No one was immune to her cruelty, either. Not even him. And she’d struck him in the cruelest way possible.
Through Lyndi.
Sorrow and guilt mingled in his chest. How was he supposed to touch the woman he loved and rip the life from her, especially in the violent way the Angels of Death had foreseen?
And he did love her. The realization had struck him like a lightning bolt to the heart when he’d picked up his assignment list and her beautiful name sat amidst the rest of the doomed.
When he’d showed up at her door, he’d planned to tell her everything, not fall straight into bed with her, but when she’d kissed him in the kitchen, his dick had taken over. Now, his dick was being rewarded, but at the expense of his conscience.
He took back his earlier sentiment. This wasn’t heaven; it was hell. Being so close to happiness but knowing the joy he saw on the horizon was a fucking mirage.
He forced the thoughts from his mind. This might be the last time he ever had with her—his Lyndi. He didn’t want to ruin the experience by being way too deep in his own messed-up head.
Lyndi slid his cock deep into her hot,
wet mouth, her tongue lavishing him as she bobbed up and down his shaft, sucking as she came up, releasing as she went down. The friction she created threatened to do him in. His balls tightened, drew in toward his body. Fuck, he’d never experienced anything so exquisite in his several thousand millennia.
If he could trade his immortal body for this human one, he’d do it in a heartbeat.
She tended his cock with her hands too, rapid semicircular pumps to the part of him too bulky to fit into her mouth. He loved the way her lips caressed him, as if the act turned her on as much as it got him off.
He gripped her head with a tense hand, reminding himself to not force her deeper on his cock, especially considering what he wanted was to be buried tight and deep in her pussy when he finally lost control. “Lyn, come here. I want to be inside you when I come.”
With one last lingering suck, she released his length and pushed to her hands and knees. She peered at him through dark lashes, and desire darkened her voice. “You were inside me.”
Sweet heaven, I love you.
The words almost blurted from his mouth, but thanks to the emotional clog in his throat, they lodged somewhere near his heart.
He swallowed hard. “You know what I meant.”
Laughing, she pushed herself from the mattress and shed her jeans, her underwear. His gaze zeroed in on the lower part of her abdomen, just above her thatch of curls. A linear, crisscrossing tattoo stretched the length of taut skin above her mons. The lines of colors and shapes were very intimate, very eye-catching, like a neon sign saying LOOK AT ME, TOUCH ME.
LICK ME.
Too bad the last time he’d done that very thing it had been pitch-black. “Nice,” he said, pointing to the tat. “I bet your parents hate it.”
“This one,” she teased, turning to open the drawer of her nightstand and giving him a perfect view of her round ass, “they don’t know about.”
“Are there others?”
“Guess you’ll just have to explore my body and find out, huh?” Condom and lube in hand, she turned to him. She had a smile on her face and mischief in her eyes.
