by Rena Marks
Aric leaned in and brushed her cheek with his lips. She shivered and he turned his mouth to hers, hovering without touching.
“May I?” His voice was low, his breath warm and sweet.
She nodded, a thrill of anticipation shooting down to her already excited midsection.
His lips slowly lowered to touch hers. They tempted and teased, but then turned more erotic when he sucked on her lower lip. She moaned and then remembered she couldn’t possible sleep with Aric Ishee, no matter how attracted she was.
Because she’d just slept with Beauregard Pierson at lunchtime. A total stranger. She’d become a slut in the span of one day.
“Aric, this isn’t a good idea,” she murmured.
“Why not? Don’t you want me? I know I want you.” The man’s voice curled into her, reaching every erogenous zone she had.
She definitely wanted. But how would she explain that she was currently sleeping with someone else?
“Sara?” he prompted.
“You know how sexy you are. But it’s too soon for me.”
Aric felt her slipping right through his fingers. He didn’t have time for this. Not if Beau had claimed her once.
He stared into her gaze. The windows of her soul opened fully to him and he mentally whispered his thoughts.
Lose your reservations, Seraphina. You want me as badly as I want you, I know you do. Use me for your pleasure. Come to me, sweet. Don’t make me wait.
Sara came immediately to him. As he knew she would. Her lips sought his and he nearly gasped at the unrestrained sensations that were unleashed with the gentle mental push he gave her. As before, her sweet mouth drove him wild. Suddenly, he just knew he’d do anything to have her tonight. If he had to use compulsion on her and erase her memory after, he’d do it.
She felt just like he remembered. He pulled her onto his lap and she straddled him while he cupped her delicate, heart-shaped buttocks in his large hands. Her waist was tiny and her breasts were the perfect size and shape for his desperately seeking mouth.
There was no way for a man of his sensuality to not lose control. He’d waited too long for her. The temptation of doing what he wanted and “helping” her to forget afterward was too great.
Take off your clothes for me, he whispered mentally and her eyes glazed over.
Small, dainty fingers reached up to unbutton her white blouse. It seemed like forever before she reached the last button and, his patience at an end, he reached out and yanked her two halves apart. The last button gave with a pop and skittered noisily across the polished floor.
She wore a lacy white bra that barely covered her nipples. She had the most beautiful breasts, perfectly formed and round. Held by the bra, they pushed up and over, an erotic tease that he couldn’t resist.
He reached out for the front clasp and twisted it open. Her round globes burst free and he stared at the sight before him. Her nipples as pink as her lips, looking swollen and sweet, protruding stiffly from the softness of her breast.
“Would you like me to take one in my mouth?” he asked.
Dazedly, she replied. “Oh, yes, please.”
Quickly, he lifted her from his lap and leaned her back against the couch. Eagerly, he sucked a whole nipple between his lips. The feel of it, right there in his mouth, right where it belonged, took every ounce of control he had to keep his fangs from extending. Instead, they burned as they fought with his power to burst free and grow. But holding off made the final culmination so much sweeter.
He opened his mouth further and sucked deeply, taking as much breast as he could into his mouth. Deep, long pulls had her arching her back against the sofa, moaning in engaging ecstasy.
“How’s it feel, sweet?” he asked.
“Oh God, Aric, it’s wonderful.” Her voice was breathless and he wanted to give her even more pleasure.
He allowed the breast to pop free of his mouth and then lavishly licked the tip, over and over, long, deliciously wet licks.
She grabbed the back of his head and pressed him to her other breast.
He licked the twin, both nipples wet and swollen and pebble-hard.
Gingerly, he cupped both breasts, lifting them so he could trace his tongue along the crease underneath them. Her breathing was heavy, coming in pants and making her chest rise and fall dramatically with each inhalation and exhalation.
He licked his way to the area between her breasts and then traced his tongue down the trail to her navel. He circled it lightly, before spearing his tongue and thrusting it inside.
He smelled her arousal, the sudden rush of moisture that coated her sheath just a few inches below. Would that moisture taste the same, the essence of Seraphina?
He had to know.
“Remove your skirt,” he instructed and pulled away to allow her to stand and do so.
The skirt was pushed over her curvy hips and he pulled her back down on the sofa, parting those smooth thighs. He placed one leg over the back of the couch. She wore tiny panties in delicate pink, the back merely a string hidden by her perfectly round behind.
He enclosed his whole mouth over her mound, panties and all. Blowing his hot breath against her made her squirm and moan exquisitely.
Her panties were wet with the steam from his breath and with her own honey that creamed from her body. He peeled them down over her legs and she shivered in anticipation when she was finally free.
She was beautiful. Swollen labia, mostly smooth except for the hint of golden red hair which masked her delicate clit from his view. He took his fingers and parted her lips, opening her wide, a vision of loveliness.
She was soaked, slickness coating her and the realization that it was for him nearly ripped his pants as his almost painful erection threatened to burst free.
He closed his eyes, concentrating on not losing it in his pants like a teenager. Christ, he couldn’t even remember being a teen, it had been so long ago.
Without the visual stimulating him, he breathed deeply, taking in the scent of rich rain.
She whimpered for him. “Please, please. Take it.” She tilted her pelvis, lifting her tiny clit up into the air.
He delved between her legs, his tongue tasting eagerly. The slick sweetness of his Sara, tempered by something else.
His mortal enemy, Beauregard. The rich, earthy smell of wolf.
Sara threw her head back and moaned, exposing the column of her throat and suddenly there was just Sara, just her scent, none of Beau’s mattered.
He heard a roar in his head. Blood, rushing beneath her skin, warm and luscious and filled with the lust he wanted to explode in his mouth.
There was nothing in the world like arousing a woman and feeding on the desire-filled blood rushing through her veins.
She wouldn’t remember this encounter, but a portion of her would be his.
He nibbled on her engorged clitoris and knew by her racing, thunderous heartbeat that she was about to go over.
Her waves of ecstasy began and she caught her breath on the inhalation, then she screamed when it hit.
Aric sucked her clit hard and midway through her orgasm, turned his head to her femoral artery and sank his fangs deep.
It was like coming home. Heaven. Pure essence of Sara, after all these years of searching.
Sara felt white-hot lust explode from her groin, almost as if Aric bit her, but there was no time to think about it further because she was sucked up out of her body.
Oh, no. Not again. Not now, not during this moment.
Her consciousness slammed back into another feminine body, but wait. It was Aric still, Aric who was rubbing the pale slender arms, Aric who was kissing her breasts. She left her own sexual experience with him only to dream of an encounter with him and someone else?
But it felt so real, big strong hands stroking her heated, frantic body. Was it her body, or was it the previous, redheaded woman?
Once again, smoke clouded her vision of the man’s face, but she knew he was gorgeous. She knew he was
familiar, but whether it was her realizing it or the other woman, she had no idea. Was it even really Aric, or had her mind just connected him into the viewing somehow?
This was the second episode she had regarding the redheaded woman making love with someone. A different man this time, much like Sara’s situation. Maybe it was just her own experiences bringing it on.
She’d never had many relationships. Being psychic usually put a halt to that. It was never pleasant when you could feel negative emotions emanating from someone, knowing they were fucking you as a piece of ass and nothing else. Suddenly, she had two gorgeous men interested in her, with no feelings of being used.
But why was she linked to that woman, anyway? Had her psychic powers evolved to contacting the dead? Was the woman trying to use her to complete some sort of unfinished business?
She hoped her powers weren’t evolving. It was difficult enough to be different and she liked them just as they were, a tidy little money maker, nothing more.
She didn’t want to see “dead people”, that’s for sure.
Then she felt Aric rise from her groin, fumble slightly with a condom, and then slam into her with one smooth move. She didn’t know if it was Aric riding her, or if he rode the gorgeous redheaded woman instead, but it felt so real, as if she were there in either case. Beautifully lean hips ground into her, pressing deeply, riding her to his own completion like a jackhammer pounding the pavement. In and out, over and over, thrust and release.
Her orgasm had just been seconds earlier from the warmth of his mouth, she was still quivering from the aftershocks when a new, powerful one hit again from the feel of his masterful cock slamming into her.
Another scream released from her throat and this climax nearly ripped her in two, curling from her toes and touching every cell in her body as it exploded, like lightning behind her eyes, shutting everything down.
* * * * *
Sara awoke to see pale green eyes fringed with thick black lashes staring worriedly at her. God, he was beautiful.
“What happened?” she asked. She looked around. They were fully dressed on the couch they’d been sitting on. It must have all been a dream, or another psychic episode.
“You passed out. Are you all right?”
Sudden embarrassment hit her. “Oh. Yeah. I just have these little blackouts every now and then.”
Sara was very aware of how people’s faces changed when she mentioned that she read tarot cards and sometimes drifted from her body. She wasn’t about to appear crazy in front of Aric by admitting how far her episodes reached.
“Stay the night, Sara. I’m worried about you.”
“I can’t. I don’t have anything with me.”
“I’ll get you something. Francesca can bring something with her. I don’t think you should be alone in your apartment…”
Sara laughed. “I’ve been alone a very long time, Aric.”
His face looked sad for a moment and she stroked his cheek. Her finger made a rasping sound against the stubble and she wondered what he was thinking. “Truth is, I met you just today. This is moving way too fast. I can’t spend the night with you.”
She knew what would happen if she agreed to spend the night and she’d already done that recently with someone else, hadn’t she?
“Life is short, Sara. Why not grab it?”
“It’s just not done.”
“What are you afraid of, sweetheart? Are you worried about what others will say?”
“It’s just ingrained. You don’t move that quickly. I can’t.”
“We can do anything we want. It’s between you and me,” he said.
And Beau, she thought. Beau is between us. Perhaps she should say something, but she couldn’t. Not now.
“I really do need to go.”
He gave in gracefully and helped her to her feet.
“Come, I’ll drive you back.”
Just then, her eyes saw something that caught the light and sparkled on the polished floor.
A tiny pearl button.
The last one from her blouse.
Chapter Three
The rain fell again. Sara closed her umbrella once she was inside the warm, dry entrance of her apartment building.
“Sara,” called a whining voice that unfortunately she knew all too well.
She schooled her features before Mattie Webb approached, using her emotionless, nonjudgmental psychic face.
“What happened the other night?” Mattie demanded. “You went into this crazy trance and it went on and on. I finally left.”
“Geez, so nice of you to not check and make sure it wasn’t a seizure.”
Mattie flushed. “I’m not a nurse. I want my money back.”
“Why? I did your reading. It’s not my fault you left and didn’t hear it.”
Mattie’s mouth dropped. “You little bitch. There’s a better psychic in town anyway.”
“Great. Go find him.”
Mattie turned on her heel and stomped off and Sara shook the last droplets of moisture off before heading up to the elevators herself.
She showered to get ready for her dinner with Beau. It was early, but at least she wouldn’t be running behind. Once she was warm and dry again, Sara decided to light a few candles and finish the psychic reading she’d started for Mattie. She still had Mattie’s personal information, after all.
Maybe it would just be better to finish and pass it along in a friendly manner, than to make a bitter enemy of her. Not that she could avoid Mattie’s mood swings, but it was the right thing to do.
The candles lit, Sara reached for the same tarot cards she had used that night. She loved this deck. It was a closed deck, meaning that it had never been touched by another’s hands. It was hers alone, a precious link to another realm.
They were beautiful cards, if unconventional. Each one had an image of a woman on it, a goddess of dreams, representing different elements of the tarot. And somehow the cards connected with her, sending her off into her own imaginings during a reading. Funny thing was, the cards were relatively new, but Sara couldn’t remember where she picked them up.
She flipped over her cards and there was the one. The red-haired female. She flipped two more and placed the cards next to her, a dark man and one of light. Funny, she’d never noticed men on the cards before.
And then the wooziness hit.
The woman was brushing her hair in a mirror. But, instead of someone else, her own eyes looked back at her in the reflection. Once again, she’d been zapped into Serra’s life.
As she put down the brush, Sara saw a letter on the dressing table before her. She reached for it, opening it slowly, dreading the contents.
Serra, it read. I hear you made the decision to wed. I’m ecstatic at the news, of course. But are you sure it is what you are ready for? Your life was dedicated elsewhere. You know it’s not an easy road you choose. I will support you in either choice you make, you know that.
All my love,
F.
Hmm. So this Serra was to get married. Perhaps to the unconventional man that Sara felt was “different”? And what of the woman’s other lover?
It was such a puzzle to figure out.
Sara turned the letter over and was surprised to see a response already written on the back.
My dearest friend,
I love them both, you know how much. Marriage will tie me to him as much as I am connected with the other. Will they be angered? Of course. Please try not to pick favorites, for I could never choose just one. I would die before choosing.
Yours truly,
Serra
Sara turned to look about the room. It was bare, sparsely furnished. She felt her soul being sucked from the body already, so she hurried, wanting to see as much as possible before she was forced away with the ringing in her head.
The last thing she saw was the crucifix over the doorway.
* * * * *
The shrill ring of the telephone zapped her back prematurely. She rolled he
r eyes wryly at it, but it was her own fault for forgetting to turn off the ringer.
“Hello?”
“Where’ve you been? I didn’t get to talk to you today. I called, but they said you were pretty busy and would call me back,” Beau said, his voice rich and husky.
She’d never gotten a message at work and wondered who’d fielded it. Probably Mike.
“I’m sorry I didn’t call you. It was actually slow today with all the rain, so I would have, but I never got the message.”
His voice was warm, as if the worry eased when she said she would have certainly returned his call. “Just as well you didn’t, I guess. I would have just lain in bed and had you talk dirty to me.”
“Beau!” she laughed.
“Sara!” he mocked back. “Don’t tell me you’ve never tried it.”
“No, I’ve never tried that. And I’m not going to, so don’t even start.”
“We’ll see, baby. Are you ready now? What are you wearing?”
“Yes, fully dressed and made up. A pantsuit tonight, I might get chilly with the rain.”
He chuckled. “This may take some practice. You’re supposed to say something naughty. Describe something sheer, or black leather or lace. That’s how phone sex starts.”
She rose to his teasing. “Why have phone sex when we can see each other in person?”
He sucked in his breath, quiet for a moment. “You don’t play right,” he sulked.
She laughed again. “Are you rushing over? I’ll wait downstairs so you don’t jump me. We don’t want to skip our reservations, ‘cause I starved all day for this.”
“I’ll be right there, baby.”
Her stomach tightened. That endearment was so sexy the way it rolled off his tongue.
Leaving her cards splayed on the table, she grabbed her trench coat and purse and headed downstairs.
He’d just entered the building and she realized he’d called her from his car outside. She was before him in an instant.
He was magnificent. His shoulders were so broad, it looked as though the turtleneck he wore had to be specially made to fit the width of him.
The gray dress slacks he wore did nothing to hide the huge columns of thigh muscles beneath them. Sara had a brief moment of wondering what it would be like to run her tongue along those thighs.
