Intimate Intuition

by Audrey Carlan

  “Do you like this smell?” I whisper.

  His eyes darken as he leans forward. I don’t move a muscle, wanting to experience whatever move he makes next. He inhales long and deep behind my ear against my hairline. I shiver at his nearness. He does it one more time, but this time, he adds his lips to the sensitive patch of skin, lingering there. My heart is pounding out a staccato beat, and the space between my thighs swells as my nipples tighten against the flimsy top I’m wearing.

  “I like your smell. Up here.” He breathes against my neck, taking his time. “Here you smell sugar sweet.” I watch with rapt attention as his hand comes down on my leg and caresses his way up. When his thumb reaches the apex of my thighs, he covertly swipes my cotton-covered sex.

  A soft moan slips past my lips, but he covers my mouth with his, obliterating any sound. The music weaves through the sound system, a hypnotic beat that only adds to the rhythm of my heartbeat. We both keep our eyes open as we kiss lightly. No tongue involved, just a simple press of lip to lip. A reminder of what we had, of what we could have again.

  He pulls away slowly. “Here”he circles his thumb over the exact spot I need“you smell of coconuts and trees.” He growls low in his throat. “I always did have a fondness for coconuts.”

  I suck in a breath and back away. If I let him touch me any longer, I’ll be a goner.

  Clearing my throat, I address the class once more. “Now imagine you’re sitting on the edge of a cliff overlooking the ocean. The sun is high, there isn’t a cloud in the sky, there’s nothing but you, Mother Nature, and the ocean crashing against the cliff’s edge beneath your feet. Sprays of mist tickle the soles of your feet. The wind is cool and calming against your skin. Your hair is blowing in the breeze. Now breathe it in, the sanctity. The stillness of this place. Soak your soul in its essence and breathe. Nothing but beauty and light resides here. Your beauty and light…

  “Breathe…” I tell them, but really, I need to take my own advice.

  The second Silas laid his cheek against mine to inhale my hairline, I lost all rational thought. All I wanted to do was drown in him like we did weeks ago. Wrap my arms around him and lose myself and the world around me.

  I glance over at his form. A small smile plays on his lips, but I can tell he’s meditating. Being able to read auras helps me to see when a student is having a hard time. So far, the guided meditation I started with has worked for the entire class. It doesn’t always, but I’m so very thankful it is today. My own energy center is hopping all over the place, supercharged and focused on one thing and one thing alone.

  Having sex with Silas McKnight on the next available surface, at the very soonest opportunity.

  I’m such a slut.

  Chapter Six

  Energy healers often believe that when an aura is out of balance or polluted by negative forces, it can affect the body in harmful ways, leading to health problems. This will present itself in the aura color surrounding the body.

  SILAS

  While Dara ends the class, I simply stay seated and take the opportunity to watch her. The way her body moves gracefully. How she crinkles her nose when she’s focusing. The sound she makes when she laughs, accompanying it with a little snort. Unbelievably cute. Even her hair is something to behold. Long, falling down to where the ends just graze her fine bubble butt. The brown and gold tones shine like silken waves under the track lighting. Though nothing compares to the ethereal quality of her eyes. Those aquamarine orbs do something wicked to me. All she has to do is look at me, and I turn into a lustful puddle of mush.

  I haven’t had these types of feelings in so long it’s hard to remember when I last did. Perhaps back when I first met Sarah our freshman year of high school. Only the yearnings were those of a fourteen-year-old boy wanting to get in the pants of a pretty blonde, not the carnal, possessive desires of a grown man who’s tasted a woman and knows exactly what he wants.

  This thing with Dara is unusual. Since I lost Sarah, I have had a few one-nighters, but nothing that did a number on me. I was able to write those occurrences off as the simple, basic need to fuck. Never once did I bring the women to my home, nor did I feel used when I woke up alone. And I did the walking those other times. No phone numbers were exchanged. Hell, I can barely remember their names. It took quite a few drinks just to go through with it the first two times. The regret I felt after having sex with another woman broke my heart and reminded me how much I missed my wife. The second woman wasn’t any easier. She was white and blonde, and when I narrowed my eyes while fucking her, I pretended she was Sarah. That practically did me in, like I’d tainted what I had with Sarah.

  As I watch Dara finish up, I try to assess her race. She’s definitely got some African American in her, but I’m not sure if the other half is Caucasian or what. Doesn’t matter to me. All I see is beauty. She’s the exact opposite of everything my Sarah was, darker in every other way but lighter in essence; maybe that’s what makes her special. She’s the best of both worlds.

  A pang of guilt pierces my heart like an icepick straight through my chest.

  No one compares to Sarah.

  I can’t think like that. Still, I can’t seem to stay away from Dara. There’s something about her that calls to me. For three years, I’ve been wading through the days and months without Sarah. Meeting Dara three weeks ago and taking her home changed all of that. I now have more of a reason to get up. A purpose to look forward to, and it’s seeing those ocean eyes staring at me from across the room like they are right now.

  “Earth to Silas…”

  I shake my head, coming back to myself.

  “Are you ready to try some of the best desserts of your life?”

  Pushing to a stand, I head over to the riser and place my hand out for her to take. I don’t know why, but I need to touch her. Feel that she’s real, not a figment of my imagination. “I don’t know… I have a pretty healthy sweet tooth, and my sister’s been known to bake cookies that are out of this world. It would be pretty hard to top her snickerdoodles.” I grin.

  She pouts prettily and then smirks. “I’ll take that challenge on. Starting with my homemade cinnamon buns. People drive from San Francisco just to get one of my gooey homemade buns.”

  I lick my lips and squeeze her hand, forcing her off the riser and flat against my chest. While holding her hand, I put my arm around her back so she’s flush against me. “Not sure anything is going to be sweeter than the taste of you.”

  I press my lips to hers. For a second, I allow her the opportunity to push away before I deepen the kiss. When she doesn’t move, I cup her cheek and lick her bottom lip until she opens her mouth. Once she does, I delve in with long licks of my tongue against hers. Not even a second after our tongues touch, she’s moaning into my mouth, offering eager flicks of her tongue and nibbling on my lips, her arms around my neck.

  For what seems like hours but is probably only a couple minutes, we kiss, rekindling the fire inside us that brought us together three weeks ago.

  Letting her arm go, I cup both of her cheeks with my palms and plunge my tongue in and out, sucking on hers until I hear a familiar little hum in the back of her throat. My cock hardens in my flimsy pants, and I grind against her. She doesn’t so much as move away. No, my queen is bold and brave. Her hands wrap around my back and run a path down to my ass, where she squeezes me before pulling our bodies together.

  She tastes of vanilla custard, and the more I taste, touch, smell, and kiss, the more I never want to let her go. Her lips are two soft, velvet pillows I can’t help but nip repeatedly, showing her my desire for more. More of this, more of everything. Just fucking more.

  A sing-song voice breaks through our make-out session. “Uh, oh, wow! Okay. Sorry.”

  Dara’s eyes widen and she smiles, covering her mouth before she spins around. The gorgeous redhead who works at the counter is standing near the door, looking at the floor, kicking her bare feet and trying her best to avoid making eye contact. She’s we
aring black yoga pants. Her green tank top makes her hair look like its glowing a fiery red.

  “It’s okay, Luna. Um, this is Silas McKnight. He works with Atlas.”

  Once Dara and I move a comfortable couple feet apart, she no longer seems uncomfortable and she smiles widely.

  “You own the studio he works at,” she says.

  I nod. “We really work together, but technically, yeah, my family owns it.”

  “Cool. This is my studio. Well…technically, my family owns it,” she repeats, and I laugh, walking over and extending a hand.

  “Good to meet you, Luna. We’re just about to go next door and try out some of Dara’s baked goods.” I hook a thumb over my shoulder toward the wall shared with the bakery. “Would you like to join us?” My manners got the best of me, inviting her to come along when all I want is to be alone with Dara. Preferably with a bed nearby.

  Please say no. Please say no.

  Luna grins and shakes her head. “Aw, how nice of you. I can’t. I have a class to teach. In this room, actually, which is why I interrupted your uh…hmm…”

  “Kiss,” Dara announces directly.

  I like it. I’m finding there is a lot to like about Dara Jackson.

  Luna’s cheeks pinken, so adorable against her pearly white skin. “Yeah well, be that as it may, I need your room.”

  Dara squeezes her friend’s bicep. “Course. Come over later?” Dara offers, and I frown. That means she has no intention of seeing me later, which was my initial intention.

  “Sure thing. Looks like we’ve got some catching up to do.” Her clear blue eyes run up and down my form.

  Dara loops her hand with mine, the buzz between us picking right back up where it left off. “Come on. I’ve got a challenge to destroy.”

  I allow Dara to lead me out of the studio, into the cool Bay Area breeze, and onto the busy street. “Is it always like this over here?” I gesture to the street and the number of patrons on the sidewalks.

  “Yeah. We’re kind of a hidden gem in Berkeley. Similar to Telegraph Avenue without all the street vendors, bums, and potheads offering weed surreptitiously as you walk by.”

  I stop in my tracks and laugh out loud, remembering a time when I walked down Telegraph with Sarah and two separate guys offered me weed. Only they did it by bumping into me and saying, “Smoke” or “Green Bud.”

  She smiles and tips her head, watching me laugh. “You know, Si, you’re a very attractive man normally, but when you laugh…panties implode.”

  I lick my lip and tug at her hips, smashing her up against my body. “Are you saying that your panties have disintegrated?” I whisper in her ear, nuzzling at her hairline behind her ear where her natural sugar scent is the most intense.

  Her face presses against mine, and she lifts up onto her toes and rests her lips against the shell of my ear. “If I were wearing panties they might have. But since I’m not…no.” She slips back, winks at me, and turns toward the door to Sunflower.

  I’m assaulted by two things at the same time: A powerful image of this woman’s bare pussy, which I’d very much like to become reacquainted with, and the scent of cinnamon and powdered sugar. “Fuck,” I gasp and then grab her form and bring my body up close to her backside. “Tease,” I whisper in her ear as I hold the door open and place a hand to her lower back to nudge her forward.

  She crooks an eyebrow and offers a saucy smirk. “Not a tease if you’re perfectly willing to follow through.”

  Before I can question her statement, a round black woman who’s obviously in charge calls out to Dara.

  “My child. Looking beautiful as ever. How was your class, honey?” The woman holds her arm out, the other holding a plate of treats up high in the air.

  Dara snuggles against the woman’s side and kisses her cheek before glancing at me. “Really great, Mama. I brought a friend of mine to try out our desserts. He says his sister’s cookies are the best thing he’s ever put into his mouth…”

  The black woman gives me the once-over with shrewd, knowing eyes. “A friend, you say?” She raises her eyebrows in what I can only assume is disbelief.

  Not knowing what to say, I just wave. I can’t exactly tell Dara’s mother I’m the man she spent an evening fucking until she left in the wee hours of the morning because she thought I was married and cheating on my wife. Nor can I tell her I’m technically not married anymore because my wife died, and I’m officially seeing her daughter, because I’m not. This thing between Dara and me is casual. It can’t be anything else.

  “Yeah, Mama, a friend.” Dara confirms flippantly.

  “Mmmhmm. Well, go on child and get him something that will knock his socks off.” She waves her off.

  Dara lifts up a wooden, hinged section of counter and escapes behind the bar. A tall man behind the display loops an arm around her waist and places a series of kisses along the side of her cheek, which makes my girl laugh hysterically. Such a familiar touch for an employee. Too familiar, in my opinion. He rests his hands above her ass at her lower back. She presses her hands against his chest, and she looks up at him, smiling away.

  What the fuck?

  Is she seeing this dude?

  Just five minutes ago, she was in a serious lip lock with me.

  Hell, only three weeks ago I had her body in so many positions I lost count. No, I didn’t. I remember every second like it was on a dirty movie reel in my mind. Nothing but flesh on flesh, lips on lips, skin on skin. All night long. Until I collapsed from exhaustion with a tight little woman in my arms, only to wake up in the morning and find a cold bed.

  Scanning the bakery, I find a table off to the side and proceed to plant my shocked ass in the chair.

  Maybe I’m not the only man she’s seeing. Then again, it’s not like we discussed our relationship status. Mostly because we drank to our hearts' content and then fucked until our bodies wore out. Now we’re somewhere in between a weird dance of seduction, lust, and keeping distance from one another.

  Frankly, I don’t know what we are. I just know I want more of her and less of seeing another man’s arms wrapped around her slight form.

  I grit my teeth as the man slaps her ass like he owns it before she hustles to fill a tray full of goodies. She hollers something over her shoulder, and the man gets to work making a couple coffees. I’d prefer my coffee with a double shot of whiskey added to it right about now.

  Rubbing at the tension in my neck, I pull out my cellphone and focus on it. A text message from Atlas pops up when I bring the display to life.

  Did you take my advice and wait? You’re not at work yet. What gives?

  I smile and click the reply button.

  Yes. At Sunflower Bakery. Went to meditation.

  The second my message goes through, the little bubble pops up, showing Atlas is typing. Of course, the guy is attached to his phone. He’s always checking to make sure his wife or nanny haven’t called about Aria, their baby. The man is freaked to the max about something happening to his family. I get it. Boy, do I get it, so I don’t ever give him any shit about it. Knowing what I know now, about how short life really can be, I would have made a few different decisions myself. Like never having bought Sarah a brand-new Lexus SUV. I regret that decision every day of my fucking pathetic existence.

  The text pops up with another message.

  Dude! You went after her already. Awesome!

  Glancing up, I see Dara is still working on something behind the counter. Her smile is wide and easy. I type my reply.

  Do you know if she has a man? She’s pretty tight with a guy behind the counter.

  Not that I know of.

  Atlas’s messages don’t make me feel any better when Dara runs her fingers across the man’s neck playfully when she passes by on her way to my table.

  Her hips sway as she walks, and her long hair swishes along with her movements. But it’s her eyes that hold me captive. The startling color against her caramel skin is breathtaking. I’ve never seen anything like i
t. I’m awestruck, lost in their blue depths.

  “Thanks for waiting.”

  “Not a problem.” I swallow around the dryness of my throat as she sets the tray down. It’s filled to the brim with a variety of goodies and two steaming lattes, both with hearts in the foam.

  Hearts.

  And the guy who was groping her made them that way. Is it to remind her about his affection?

  “I think you’ll forgive me when you wrap your lips around this!” She lifts up an icing-covered cinnamon roll chunk she’s ripped off the whole swirl. Her tantalizing fingertips are out, daring me to take the bite from them.

  Leaning forward, I wrap my lips around her fingers and flick at her digits with my tongue. I grab her hand with my other, not letting her get too far from me while I chew and swallow. Once done, I pull her fingers to my mouth and swirl my tongue around the sticky remains. After I’ve licked off every bite, I drop her hand.

  “Incredible,” I whisper, my gaze hot on hers.

  Her blue eyes have darkened to a smoky color I’ve seen before, specifically when she was underneath me, crying out her release.

  “So incredible,” she mimics.

  “I just said that, sweetness.” I lift up the cinnamon roll, tear off a piece, and pass a much smaller bite to her, getting close so she’ll have to invade my personal space to get it.

  “Challenging me in my own bakery?”

  Taunting her, I lift the piece up and wiggle it. “You afraid someone will see me feeding you?”

  She moves lightning fast, stealing the bite from my fingertips like a treat-thieving ninja.