Intimate Intuition

by Audrey Carlan

  Sarah was right. I’m free, and so is she.

  Chapter Seventeen

  A couple connected through the third eye chakra is a very rare relationship. It’s built on mutual love and respect for all things and all people. These people live for others in their world, not for themselves. In a relationship, this couple lives solely to make their mate happy. This in turn provides an endless harmony in the home. There is an ease to the relationship not found in any other chakra couple.

  SILAS

  “Easy, my prince. Easy,” Dara scolds me for the hundredth time in two weeks. She’s the one who’s closing in on nineteen weeks pregnant, and she’s treating me like I’m spun glass.

  Delicate.

  Not a man’s man.

  I’m fuckin’ done.

  “Babe, I said I got this,” I growl, working my fingers to button up my own goddamned shirt. The woman has been dressing me for damn near two weeks, and I’m tired of it. “I’m not an invalid. Gettin’ better every day. Doc says I’m healing faster than anyone he’s had on his table before.”

  Dara scowls and places her hands on her hips, baby bump proudly displayed in a skintight tank and a pair of yoga pants. She’s mouthwateringly sexy, and she hasn’t let me in there in two weeks. My balls are so blue I’m sure they are days away from fallin’ off.

  I grip her with my stronger side and tug her body to me. She lifts her head and melts right before my eyes. Woman can’t stay mad at me for long. Thank Christ, because there is a lot I do that could easily piss her off. She just has this ease about her that other women I’ve been around don’t have. She’s comfortable in her skin, her environment, and hopefully now, she’s comfortable in us.

  Hopefully, because I’m taking her to the house I bought for us right under her nose. First thing I did when I got out of the hospital was call my Realtor and ask him to send me pictures of the home he had an early drop on. House cost a fuckin’ mint, but nothing compared to the ease it will give me knowin’ my lil’ mama won’t have to walk but two blocks in a good neighborhood to get to work.

  No cars.

  Perfect in my opinion. Dara confided in me that she doesn’t even have a driver’s license. This I found out when we got out of the hospital and my woman couldn’t drive us home. Vanessa Jackson did that. Seems Mrs. Jackson hasn’t made any effort in getting her daughter trained on how to drive either. Looks like we both share a bit of fear when it comes to Dara being safe. I’ve since promised her I would be teaching her how to drive, but I wasn’t eager for her to have her own set of wheels. She didn’t seem concerned either way since there’s always someone at the bakery or the yoga studio in the event of an emergency.

  Dara being Dara just goes with the flow. No worries. She likes her life. Woman loves her bakery and her work at the Lotus House. Now she loves me and our baby. According to her, she’s got all she needs.

  Not true.

  Woman needs a home, not a studio apartment busting at the seams with my shit in boxes taking up a full twenty percent of the space and a baby on the way.

  “Where are we walking anyway?” she asks, lifting up onto her toes and kissing the underside of my jaw.

  I lean forward and nuzzle her cheek, taking in her fresh bakery scent. Today’s flavor must be cinnamon, because my girl is covered in the scent of cinnamon buns.

  Inhaling full and deep, I have to grit my teeth when an arrow of pain steals through my chest, reminding me I’m not one hundred percent.

  Dara, knowing everything, notices my reaction. She cups my cheeks and frowns. “You gotta be careful. You’ve only been out two weeks, and I want you one hundred percent when the baby comes so you can hold your child without pain.”

  I sigh and nod. “You’re right. I’ll take it easy.”

  She gifts me a brilliant smile. “A walk?”

  I grin, spin my girl around by the shoulders, and nudge her toward the door. When we get there, she shoves her feet into one of the ten pairs of flip-flops she has lined up by the door. My girl hates covering her feet. Around the house, she’s barefoot. Always. In bed, she frees her pretty feet so they can get fresh air. Says when her feet are cool, the rest of her is cool. Whatever floats her boat.

  We hit the stairs and walk through the back of the bakery. I don’t want her going through the front to the street because we’ll never get out of there, and I’m on a mission. Well, two missions. One, to show my girl our new home. Two, to ask her to marry me. This will probably come as more of a surprise than the home since we haven’t known one another more than four months. Still, with a baby on the way and having taken a bullet to the chest, I was slammed with the fact that life is short and I need to make the most of it. No delays. A person never knows what lies beyond, and I’m not wasting a minute of my time with Dara.

  Dara intermingles our fingers and lets our arms sway as we walk along the tree-lined streets of Berkeley. I’ve always loved this area of California. Berkeley is mostly known for being a college town, but in reality, the town shuts down at night and you’re left with the local residents moseying around and the college kids in their frat houses.

  My girl sighs as the sun starts to fade into the horizon and the night chill comes upon us. “It’s beautiful here. I love this area.” She says exactly what I was thinking.

  Proof.

  We’re connected in more ways than one.

  “Me too.”

  As we walk, we get closer to a street filled with homes that are tucked back away from the street by lush greenery and intricate fencing.

  “Wow. I didn’t even know this neighborhood was here,” she exclaims, smiling, her eyes wide, taking in the beauty before us.

  I walk past three more homes and to the driveway of the one I want her to see. There is no For Sale sign on it because I picked it up before it ever hit the market. The residents had movers finish up packing just two days ago. They were eager to get to the East Coast, and I was happy for my good fortune. Means I was able to rush the paperwork, and while it’s going through escrow, the homeowner gave me the keys.

  Dara tries to walk ahead, but I stop her with a tug of my hand. “We’re going to look at this one.”

  She glances from side to side and all around. “Baby, I don’t think people will take too kindly to people walking up to their doors and peering into their windows.”

  I grin, pull at her hand, and press on up the walk. The home is tucked back away from the street like many of the others, but once we get around the long drive, we see the quaint-looking, rather large two-story home. Quaint because it’s reminiscent of a fairy home or small castle-type cottage. It’s a brilliant white with pointed rooftops in a brick color, skinny windows with red trim painted around them, and a single, matching, wooden red door. Instead of grass, there’s a cobblestone patio that reaches up to the door, where a small wrought-iron table set is sitting off to the side. The owners threw it in as a present when I told them how much I liked it there and planned to get one of my own.

  Vanessa Jackson, being a strong-willed mama of an only child, knew what I was up to and had already scoped out the house. She brought over a couple of huge terracotta pots to frame the door and filled them with flowers. Bursts of red, purple, yellow, and orange complemented the white background, giving the doorway a more welcoming vibe.

  “Si, we’re going to get into trouble,” Dara warns, squeezing my hand.

  I stop at the door. “Trust me, baby?”

  The worry in her expression fades, and she offers me a crooked smile. “Yes.”

  I pull out the key to the house from my pocket and insert it into the lock.

  Dara gasps but doesn’t say anything.

  When we walk in, the place is empty, but the window shutters are open, allowing maximum light.

  Dara enters the main room, her flip-flops smacking on the adobe-style tiled floor. She spins in a circle. “It’s magnificent.”

  “Welcome home, lil’ mama.”

  Her eyes widen so much I fear they might bug out
of her head. “This is ours? This magical giant cottage on a hillside in Berkeley?” She repeats herself as if I don’t know where we are or the fact that I paid a cool one and a half million to secure it.

  “It’s ours. Yours, mine, and lil’ one, and any future babies we bring home.”

  Dara covers her mouth as she walks over and peers into the kitchen. “Oh, my God. It’s got a double fridge, double oven, double eve-re-thang!” She spins around on one foot. “Do you know how much I’m going to cook in this kitchen!” Her voice rises with her excitement.

  “Hopefully every meal, babe, because you know I can’t cook worth a shit!” I laugh, enjoying every second of watching her walk through our home. I’ve already seen it, but seeing it through her eyes is so much better.

  She keeps walking and yells out, “A huge dining room! We can fit sixteen at least if we get a big enough table! Your family, my family, and the Harts!”

  Dara has decided in the short two weeks since our ordeal with Mallory that Monet, Clayton, Lily, and baby Knight are family. Turns out, while spending healing time hanging out with Monet and the baby, we found out Monet, like Dara, has very little family. Atlas, Mila, and their baby Aria are pretty much the only family she claims, and they are not blood.

  In those two weeks, I’ve seen the Harts four times. They come to visit, check on me, bring me things to read, spend time chatting, but mostly I think it’s because Clayton doesn’t know how to thank me. Every time he visits, he leaves, holding my shoulder, looking me in the eye, and saying one word: Gratitude.

  I figure naming their child Knight after me, which is a kickass first name if I do say so myself, was beyond thoughtful. Besides, the second they arrive, Monet puts the baby right in my arms so I can bond. Says she wants her baby to know his hero personally. Me, I love it. Gives me a little practice before my own bundle comes. Not to mention, their daughter, Lily, is a hoot. The funny shit that comes out of that little girl’s mouth would bring a grown-ass man to tears with laughter. And the little one loves Dara. She wants Auntie Dara to take her right down to that bakery and show her how to make something. Of course, Dara does it because she’s a pushover for a pretty face. Then again, so am I.

  Back to pretty faces, Dara comes running into the room. “We have a pool!” she screeches. “I love pools!”

  Now that I didn’t know because I’ve never seen her swim, nor is it the time of year to swim, but I’m happy she’s happy.

  Dara grabs my hand and starts lugging me up the stairs. “Be careful, baby, but I gotta see what’s upstairs!” She’s squealing like a little girl.

  While she opens each door, nods her head, smiles, and makes a comment about something she likes, I just watch her. Making her happy, knowing she loves the home I bought for our family is all I need.

  Then we make it to the master. Her hands drop to her side, she lifts her head to the ceiling, and calls out, “Thank you, Jesus, God, in heaven above. I am so home!”

  I snicker and come up behind her, wrapping my arms around her. One on our child, the other across her chest to her shoulder. “How’s about you thank me, since I’m the one who dropped a mint on it?”

  She giggles, reaches her hands back behind her, arching her sexy body. I run my hand up to one of her big tits and swipe the nipple with my thumb.

  “I’m thinking a little gratitude with your sexy-as-fuck mouth would do wonders, lil’ mama. My dick is hard and aching for you after two weeks of nothing but blue balls.”

  She laughs but spins around and takes my mouth with hers. Our tongues tangle, and I can tell by the little mewl she makes in the back of her throat she’s getting hot for it.

  With shaking fingers, so excited to get my hands, mouth, hell, anything on my woman, I lift her tank and push it over her head. Instantly, she puts her hands behind her back, unlatches her bra, and frees her beautiful tits.

  “Fuck!” I suck in a breath through my teeth. I cup both globes in my hands and circle her nipples with my thumbs. “They’re not only getting bigger, baby, but your nipples are fat and round. Fuck, I want these tits in my mouth.” I groan and lean over to take a tip.

  Before I can get my mouth on it, she backs up and shakes her head. “Nuh-uh, big man. I’ve got some gratitude to show.”

  I quirk an eyebrow and watch as she kicks off her flip-flops, puts her fingers in the sides of her yoga pants, and presses them and her underwear down her toned thighs. Her belly is protruding a lot now, which only makes her look like a fertile goddess.

  With effort, I grip both hands into fists, forcing myself not to reach out, but my dick has other plans. The second he nudged up against her ass from behind, he got excited.

  My girl, bare-ass naked, looks me up and down. I lift my arms and unbutton my shirt. Thank Christ she doesn’t try to do it for me. I need to feel a little in charge here, even though she’s in total control. Her hands run up her body, and she lifts and molds her own breasts, tweaking the nipples between two fingers.

  A heat hits my entire body, and a mist of sweat tingles at the back of my neck as I watch my woman touch herself. She runs one of her hands down her side and between her thighs. I know the second she finds her hot button and spins two fingers around it.

  She cries out and tips her head back. The image of sex and desire incarnate.

  I hiss out my need through my teeth, and she opens her eyes and licks her lips. Then she walks up to me with those same two fingers she had between her legs, and my woman puts them up to my mouth. I grab her wrist and hold it in front of my face, sucking her fingers between my lips like a starving man. She moans while I suck.

  “Want you sitting on my face. Right here, right now.”

  “Okay, but only if I get to suck on you at the same time.” She mewls as I unbutton my pants, kick off my shoes, not bothering with my socks, and push down my pants.

  Dara scrambles to her knees, where she eases my underwear down and helps me get them off. Her mouth is on my cock before I can even take a knee to the floor.

  “Fuck!” I hiss and grip her hair, letting her know how very, very much I love her mouth.

  Her blue gaze lifts to meet mine as she laps at the underside of my dick, swirls her tongue around the crown, and takes me deep. All the way to the back of her throat.

  Now I put both hands in her hair and fuck her mouth. She takes it all, deeper than any woman has ever been able to before. World-class head. The best.

  “Want my mouth on your cunt,” I growl and grip her hair at the roots so it will sting but not hurt.

  She moans around my cock, and it jerks inside her mouth, pre-cum at the tip. She laps it up, flicking the tip before she gives it a little kiss.

  A fucking kiss. On the tip of my dick. Cute and silly. My girl.

  Finally, she releases me, her eyes darkened with lust as I get to my knees and ease down on my back in the middle of our brand-new master bedroom, no furniture in sight, just an empty room and a wall of windows to light our way.

  The second I’m flat, she straddles me, and I grip her hips. At first, she’s timid, always is when her belly is hovering, but I shift her ass toward my head, grip her butt cheeks, and bring her succulent pussy right down on my mouth, dipping my tongue deep right off the bat. She moans out her pleasure, sitting up, letting me get a good, deep drink of her. She’s wet as fuck, and my hips jerk of their own accord.

  That move seems to bring her back into action, falling over my body, putting her mouth right where I want it. The second her lips wrap around my tip, I thrust up, forcing her to take more. She pays me back by grinding her cunt into my face. I love it, groaning, lapping her up, licking, kissing, and flicking her clit.

  Her body trembles on top of mine, and I push her hips up. “Fuck, babe, already. I barely got my mouth on you and you’re going to come?”

  She moans as I suck her clit hard, her body jerking as she fucks my face. “Can’t help it.” Her voice comes in labored pants.

  I lift her up again. “Gonna make you come, and then
you’re gonna ride my dick. And don’t you dare question my ability. I’m so fucking gone right now. Your taste on my tongue, your mouth on my cock after two fucking weeks of nuthin’, woman…fuck!” Her coconut and earthy scent hits my nostrils like a smoke trail. I press her legs wider, forcing her open more, her belly resting on my chest, arms to the floor beside us holding her up.

  “Si.”

  She gasps when I grind my two-day stubble into her tender flesh.

  “Baby.”

  Dara jerks, more moisture coating my tongue. Fucking delicious. I can’t get enough.

  “I’m coming, Si. Baby, I’m coming.” She fucks my face, moving her hips like a madwoman as I try to keep up. Then her entire body goes rigid, and I gorge on her cream, licking up every drop of her release until she’s shaking, her head having fallen to my thighs, my dick still hard and weeping.

  “Turn around and hop on my dick, babe. Now!” I growl. “Need you, baby.”

  She lifts her head, does an interesting twirl, straddles my lower half, lines up her slit with my angry dick, and slams home.

  Her entire body arches, hands flying to her hair.

  “Jesus Christ, you’re magnificent.” I lift my left hand to her breast so I can play with her nipple. The right, where the bullet wound is still healing in the right side of my chest, I rest on her hip. “Ride my dick, Dara. Take it there again.”

  Her body bounces on top of mine, and I thank the good Lord above that I got this chance to see my woman riding my cock, her belly swollen with my baby, her expression showing nothing but the pleasure I’m giving her. Pleasure she’s taking from my body.

  “Fuckin’ beautiful,” I gasp on one of her powerful thrusts down.

  Every time she lifts up, she moans like it hurts her to leave our connection, until she bottoms out, totally filled to the root, where she digs her fingers into my abdomen and sighs, like there’s no place like home. Home, with me rooted deep inside her. I get it. I totally get it, because when we’re connected like this, there’s nothing I could ever want more. No place in the world more peaceful.