“Tell me Madden, why would I leave all this? Make me believe it.” He stirred at the words and Celena smiled watching him try to focus. She totally understood it was almost impossible for her to think straight with the warm pulsing treat tucked within inches of her hungry sex.
“I’ve got nothing to offer you, to keep you here,” his voice was thick and rough with chocked back need and she smiled. Grasping one end of the rope, Celena flicked the loose end over his chest, dancing across his nipples and down to circle his bellybutton. Leaning over just a bit she threaded the rope under his lower back and made a three pointed slip knot just below his diaphragm.
“So, you call this,” she lifted on her knees, rubbing the slick lips of her sex against his cock, “nothing?”
Red needed a moment to think, to concentrate. He nearly forgot to breathe at the sensation of her moist heat gliding over his flesh. “Sex--sex won’t make up for you not working.” Did that make sense? He hoped it came out right; the words were a jumble in his brain.
“You are right, this isn’t working, this is playing,” her pouty lips pursed and blew him a kiss as a hand disappeared beneath a skirt panel. This time clever fingers petted and stroked his cock in time to the damp slide and bump of her sex.
“But you are correct, I need a job.” Celena felt the jump in his pulse as his cock twitched in her hand. “So, I am taking over Dr. SaoBria’s practice until he is healed, then we’ll be partners.”
Astounded, Red felt his mouth drop open, she was a geneticist not a family doctor. This was ludicrous. But a corner of his mind hoped and prayed she was serious.
“Hmmm,” she drawled, “if you’re going to keep your mouth open, I may have to give it some work.” Tugging the rope around her middle she repeated the slip knot as her knees slowly slid her mound up until the tip of his shaft seated at her opening. It was sheer delicious pain, sliding the thick head in and out then stopping, but she did.
Work, mouth needs to work, he reminded himself. It wasn’t the best moment to realize how hard it was to concentrate on talking, but he got the lesson. Unable to move his arms, Red was able to sit up enough to capture a coral tipped nipple she had dangled in front of his face. Lightly he bit on the areola as his lips suckled the firm globe. With a hungry growl she wriggled her hips and managed to seat his cock in the opening of her slit. He had enough. Bending his legs, he rocked her onto his chest and pushed in a little deeper lapping at her breast. Cool hands found his chest and she pushed away from his mouth deepening the reach of his rod in her depths. He felt the bump of her womb and wanted to curse for being immobile.
Celena tightened her thighs around his hips, holding him deep inside as she unbuttoned and tossed aside the skirt. “Watch,” she commanded in husky tones. Maybe it was magic, or maybe his lust fogged brain played tricks but he could have sworn the thin white rope bound her wrists one at a time like his before the ends met along his side, and fused. “Watch,” she demanded again as she used her thighs to lift her hips taking him in and out of her sheath. Transfixed, he watched as his dark shaft disappeared in and out of her creamy core.
Leaning forward, Celena grabbed his shoulders for balance as she felt the slide of his veined thickness pumping in and out of her body. It felt so good she became lost to the pleasure of being brushed everywhere inside at once. Her stomach fluttered and the muscles contracted holding her balance and the need for more doubled as her wet walls tightened, fisting his throbbing rod against a spot that made her shiver. In a frenzy of feeling, she slumped forward grinding her sex against his, rocking his length in and out as lights and sounds exploded in her head in time to Madden calling her name over and over.
Seconds spun into minutes tripped into measuring time by gasping pants and soft sighs of satiety. Staring at the ceiling, Red thought he saw stars twinkling down through the plaster. That can’t be right; he closed his eyes and looked again. Blinking, he noted there was still a bit of a glimmer at the edges. Instinctively, he lifted his hands to his face and rubbed his eyes.
“Hey, where did the rope go?” Celena was still slumped against his chest, mumbling incoherently. “Lena, did you take the rope off?”
Grumpy but amused, she roused herself propping her chin on his chest. “Nope, and we never will.” Pillowing her head on his shoulder, Celena ignored his hands as they rummaged around the bed and their bodies looking for something he would never see. Staring at her hand as it lay on his sternum; she focused her gift watching the sparkling, unending knotted line that connected them.
“If you wanted free of me,” a finger traced the line under his pectoral muscle, “then the knots wouldn’t have held.”
Red stilled as reality hit him that obviously wasn’t a normal rope. “No, Princess, I never want free of you.” He gripped her ribcage and lifted her easily above his chest.
“Good, I like knots.” She grinned cheekily.
Laughing, he lowered her so their heads touched. “Forever in my heart, Lena. Forever.” He nuzzled her cheek, rolling her beneath his body. “Now, you said something about wanting to do that at least twice a day. Time is wasting.”
Epilogue
Lady of the Lake
Watching the golden sunlight sparkle and dance across the serene surface of the lake, his fingers gripped his coffee cup tightly. It was the only indication of the storm raging in his mind. Too many years the women in the Faustulus line had led the charge for the destruction of Lupercus and his bastard offspring.
Lifting his cup in a mock salute, he silently thanked his nemesis, Lupercus. Were it not for the perfidious minor god, he wouldn’t be in the delectable position to take over the Sabine Group.
Dear, sweet, Aunt Laura, the insane and narcissistic fool. Her refusal to spawn the requisite children left the matriarchal organization scrambling to determine which niece, cousin or illegitimate sibling should be next to rule. Sadly, all of her magical secrets were supposedly lost with her incarceration. The books were his, sitting in shipping crates in a storage facility in Wyoming. He didn’t care a bit about the treasure trove of supposedly obscure occult documents, except that they be kept away from the stupid cows that continually impeded his work.
Why should he destroy the Wolf Lord and his shape-shifting offspring? Better to capture, study, dissect, and discover all of their secrets than blindly extinguish their unique species. He couldn’t care less about the military opportunities his father had coveted. Jonathan wanted simply to study them. Everyone saw him as a quack scientist, the face his family forced him to wear in front of the world, not the truth, he was a trained zoologist. He couldn’t accept that the progeny of Lupercus were imbued with god-like powers. Were that the case then all of the children--male and female--would have the ability to change form. The fact that only the males changed shape reinforced his conviction that the ability was hidden in the genes of the man-wolves.
Cameras mounted in the woods the night of Laura’s great failure provided him with much more than an amusing few hours as he watched the footage over and over. It provided him with proof that some traits carried through the blood. Vanner Stang was the atavist that proved the secrets of the blood could be unlocked from any descendant, not just the morphological ones.
There was too much attention being focused on the East Coast clans. Jonathan opened the door of his condo on Lake Coeur d’Alene and walked into the warm spring air, watching the ballet beneath him as a young woman laughed and chatted to the tiring horse wading in the water between her firm thighs. Angelina Gattusi, her father had been the Idaho clan alpha, and it was reputed that she could see things through the eyes of animals far and near.
Distantly he heard the phone ring and ignored the strident tone. Phones were like women, shrill and annoying. When the slim phone clipped to his hip chirped, he couldn’t ignore it.
“Yes?” he drawled, allowing the full weight of his discontent roll through the connection.
“Why are you not in New York dealing with the Campanella male?” the vo
ice was unfamiliar, dark and full of power.
“Who is this?” The voice sounded somehow off, raising the hairs along the back of his neck as it poured into his ears.
“This is not for you to know child, your mother served me and my needs that should be sufficient for you. Go to New York.”
A cold oily sweat rolled across his forehead, triggering the memory of the evening he’d met Dr. Celena Black. He’d been enchanted by her simple beauty and foolishly remarked on her resemblance to her mother, knowing in his heart he served her no compliment. She had been so beautiful in her anger, eyes turning near black as she stared through him.
“They are not your family, walk away,” had been her reply before fading into the crowd and leaving the symposium.
Should he listen and travel to New York to ‘deal with’ Quintus Campanella? Laura’s pet project crumbled to ruination when the foolish Sandy Black failed in her assignment to breed a man-wolf pup on her bastard daughter. What did he care if the stupid bitch were locked away in an asylum?
“Eliminating the beta is about more than Laura or the Black woman, do as I command.” The words oozed out of the handset. Staring at the silver phone sitting in his clammy palm, he wondered if he ever could have walked away.
Looking below at the dark head thrown back in laughter, radiating joy over the lapping water, the thought brought him sorrow. A sorrow he didn’t understand.
About the Author
Clutching a bowl of popcorn, wide-eyed and fixated on Chiller Theater and Terminal Stare at the age of five, Melissa knew that horror and cleavage were inexplicably bound, today she lives it. When she isn’t pecking at the keyboard she enjoys maintaining the family graveyard, swamp hikes and lurking in the hills of Southern Pennsylvania.
Memory & Dream, a recipient of the "Over the Moon, Award of Excellence' from Mayreviews.com
Also available from Melissa Glisan and Venus Press…
Mystical Sign: Dog Wild (Prequel to Forget Me Knot)
Memory & Dream
Ware Wishes
Upon the Midnight Hour (anthology)
Bad Girls Do It Better, Volume 3: “Fool’s Gold”
Learning Curves
Forget Me Knot Page 18
