I screamed as an orgasm overwhelmed me. My entire body clenched with intense pleasure. I rode out the aftershocks as Gideon moved back up my body with an expression of smug male pride written all over his beautiful face.
“That was nice?” he asked with a smirk.
I shrugged and bit my bottom lip so I wouldn’t grin like a fool. “It was okay,” I teased.
“Guess I’ll have to try again and do better this time,” he said, raising an amused brow.
“That might kill me dead,” I whispered, tracing his lips with my finger. “It was… I’ve never… It was perfect. Sex is so much fun.”
“It’s supposed to be,” he said, shaking his head and grinning. “When it’s with someone you love, it’s far more than just sex.”
This was the way it was supposed to be. I just didn’t know it until now. “I want to touch you.”
“That can be arranged,” he said, rolling off of me and lying on his back.
I was a kid in a candy shop… or rather, a woman with an extreme sweet tooth in an x-rated candy shop. My excitement was obvious and Gideon’s delight made me bold.
His hissed intake of air as I took him in my hand and stroked him made me giddy.
“Good?” I asked, watching every nuance of expression on his face.
“Perfect,” he ground out as his body moved in rhythm with my touch. “Gonna need those condoms very soon.”
“How soon?” I asked, leaning forward and putting my mouth where my hand had been.
“Now,” he said, lifting me off of him and frantically grabbing the box.
Watching him put on the condom was as much of a turn-on as every other move he made. No awkwardness. No annoyance that he had to wear it. While I was sure I would find a few faults here and there, I was pretty dang sure none of them would be in the bedroom department.
“You ready, Angel Eyes?” he inquired, looking like he wanted to eat me whole.
“Are you, Demon Boy?” I challenged.
“I’ve waited my whole damned life to make love to someone I love. This will be a first for me.”
His words humbled me, and my entire body tingled. I caved into my instincts and tackled him. His surprised grunt was followed by a laugh as he flipped me over and pinned me beneath him.
“You win,” I gasped out.
“We win,” he corrected.
The mood went from silly to serious on a dime. My body ached with desire. I arched my back and opened my legs. I wanted all of him—mind, body and soul. His eyes blazed red and I met his intense gaze head on. The intimacy was almost too much, but I was going into this with my eyes wide open.
“I’m in love with you, Daisy,” he said in a tone that made me shiver with happiness.
“And I’m in love with you, Gideon.”
Taking him in my hand, I led him exactly where I wanted him to be. Nothing had ever felt so right. Our kisses became frenzied and with one swift thrust, we joined.
“You good?” Gideon asked, barely able to restrain himself, but needing to know I was with him.
“Yessss,” I hissed, undulating beneath him. “More.”
And my wish was granted.
The speed of his thrusts increased and I bucked wildly beneath him as we careened toward an orgasm so intense it would probably kill us—well, not him since he was Immortal. However, if I had to go, this was one hell of a way to do it.
My gaze locked on his and the vulnerability I felt from him overwhelmed me. His eyes were wild and the sounds he made went all through me. I now knew what it meant to love completely—to be one with another person. The Grim Reaper was mine, and I was his.
“Come with me,” he demanded.
And I did.
We both cried out and color burst behind my tightly closed eyes. My back arched and a jolt of pleasure radiated through my entire body. Orgasm number two overcame me and a scream flew from my lips. I trembled and clenched him inside me as I rode out the waves. As soon as it ebbed another took hold, and I wrapped my legs around his waist and moaned.
“Gorgeous,” he whispered as he kissed me with such passion I thought I might orgasm again.
“You are really, really, really good at this,” I said with my hands cupping either side of his face.
“We are really, really good at this,” he replied. “Hold that thought.”
He rolled off of me, removed the condom and snapped his fingers. It vanished into thin air.
“That’s a nifty trick,” I said, still feeling little aftershocks roll through me. “We brought a bunch of those, didn’t we?”
“We did,” he replied, eyeing me curiously. “Would you like to use a few more?”
“Yes, I would,” I said. “Well, that is, if you can.”
“Oh Daisy,” Gideon said with a laugh. “You have no clue who you’re dealing with. I definitely can.”
“And you have no clue who you’re dealing with, Gideon,” I told him. “Because I can too.”
And we did.
Because we could.
Four more times.
Best damned night of my life.
Chapter Thirteen
“I’m not doing this,” I said, gaping at him like he’d lost his mind. “There is no way I’m doing this.”
“Oh, come on,” Steve begged, sitting across from me at the kitchen table with a ridiculously wide grin on his face. “Think of me as one of your girlfriends. We’re just having a little breakfast and gossiping.”
Pressing my lips together, I searched for an appropriate response. It was not going to happen anytime this year… or decade.
“And yes,” Steve continued. “I’m fully aware that I’m your dead, gay husband. However, the gay part of the description qualifies me to stand in for the girlfriend role since none of them are here right now. I am your best friend. Plus, I feel very invested.”
“In Gideon’s balls?” I choked out, unable to believe the conversation.
“Yes,” he said with a chuckle. “Does the Grim Reaper suffer from cryptorchidism or not?”
“Oh my God,” I muttered, my chin dropping to my chest. Steve was not going to let up until he had the intel on Gideon’s junk. How was this my life?
Gideon and I had slept in the enchanted garden after many aerobic rounds of the most amazing sex of my life. He’d dropped me off about an hour ago to go home and shower and change for our John Travolta smack attack. It was eight in the morning, now, and I hadn’t had caffeine. Yet somehow, I was discussing the balls of the man who I’d banged last night with Steve.
Peeking up at my dead, gay best friend, I grinned. “You really need to know?”
“I do,” he replied, grinning back at me.
I was working on very little sleep and my judgement was definitely off, but I was about to share shit I probably shouldn’t.
“Coffee first,” I said, getting up and making my special iced caffeinated confidence booster. If I was going to have this chat, I needed liquid fuel with an enormous squirt of chocolate syrup.
“Take your time,” Steve said.
Shaking my head and laughing, I concentrated on my coffee. “I will. Thank you.”
“Welcome.” Steve was proof that one could die, but Southern manners lived on for eternity.
I would update Steve on the state of the Grim Reaper’s balls, but the rest of the night was off limits.
Taking a huge slug off my coffee, I sat back down. “His balls are fine. They are very nice balls and there are two of them. Fully descended.”
“Excellent!” Steve said. “I did a little light reading on the subject so I would know what we were in for.”
“We?” I asked with a laugh.
“Of course,” Steve said with a wink. “You’ll always be my girl, and I want the best for you. So, anyhoo, I just need to ask a few more questions.”
“No.”
“Great, was he able to get it up?”
“Oh, my hell. That has nothing to do with his balls.”
Steve shook his
head. “You’d be surprised. Just answer the question.”
“Umm… yes. He did fine in that department.”
Steve raised his hand for a hive five and I obliged him. Honestly, it was kind of fun to gossip a little.
“Wait,” I said after sucking back another sip of iced coffee. “If he’d only had one ball, he wouldn’t have been able to get it up?”
“Only in some very rare cases,” Steve explained. “However, even with one ball, a man can produce enough testosterone to get an erection and ejaculate. Therefore, he can also produce adequate sperm for fertilization.”
“Why did you look all of this up?” I asked, open-mouthed.
“Well,” Steve said, looking quite pleased with himself. “I wanted to make sure your dreams could still come true even if Gideon was sporting one ball.”
“He has two,” I pointed out.
“Even better,” Steve replied with a thumbs up.
“What dreams are you talking about?”
Steve sighed and floated over to me. Wrapping his semi-transparent arms around me, he rested his head on my shoulder. “I know how much you always wanted a baby,” he whispered. “I wanted to make sure Gideon could give you everything you wanted, since I couldn’t.”
I was speechless and wanted to cry. I had wanted children for a long time, but that was my past, not my future. I was forty. While I was fully aware women were having kids into their fifties these days, having a baby with someone who resided in Hell part time wasn’t exactly ideal.
And what the heck would I give birth to? An Angel/Demon/human who could talk to the dead, create enchanted flower gardens and demolish cars? The terrible twos would be horrifying.
“Oh, Steve.” I sighed and leaned my head against his. “I’m responsible for my dreams. Not you. And not Gideon. As sweet and alarming as your research is, I’m no longer in the market for a baby. I have dogs.”
Steve chuckled and floated to a new position. We were face to face. “Daisy, never say never to anything that results from two people loving each other completely. Of course, we are talking about sperm that’s older than time, but miracles can happen. Look at you.”
“Yep, look at me. I had a mother who killed herself over a dead man and a father who wants nothing to do with me,” I replied. “Not an outstanding example.”
Steve was quiet. There was nothing to say.
The fact that my mother fell in love with one of the ghosts she was counseling and followed him into the darkness by committing suicide was simply a sad truth of my history. I’d only been five when it happened—thirty-five years ago. I barely remembered her.
And my surprise daddy?
There was a fine reason I hated surprises. John Travolta was not a welcome addition. Thank God I was forty and not fourteen. While it still hurt, as a teenager, the knowledge would have been devastating.
“Anyhoo,” I said, pasting on a smile and changing the subject. “I should probably eat breakfast, but all of a sudden I’m not hungry.”
“You need to eat your dang breakfast, Daisy girl,” Gram announced, zipping into the kitchen with Jimmy Joe Johnson on her heels. “You quit eatin’, you’re gonna get so skinny you won’t be able to see your shadow.”
“No need to worry about that,” I told her with a laugh, happy to have a distraction from the conversation Steve and I were having. It had gotten too dark. “Would cookies be okay?”
Normally, a banana and oatmeal were my standard go-to breakfast items. However, my stomach was in knots. The day ahead left me feeling on edge.
Gram fluttered around the kitchen searching for something that might appeal to me. Not that she could actually prepare it, but old habits die hard.
“They’re peanut butter cookies,” Steve volunteered, always ready to defend me and my bad choices. “Peanut butter has protein.”
“Fine,” Gram huffed. “Four cookies, but you have to have a piece of fruit with it.”
“Deal,” I said, grabbing a banana and my sugary-protein morning meal. “Have you seen Birdie? I’m worried about her.”
Gram sat down on the table right in front of me. “She’s been hidin’ in the cellar.”
“I don’t have a cellar,” I said, confused.
“I think Gram means the crawlspace,” Steve said.
I glanced over at him. “Not exactly a place I’d want to hang out.”
“Ditto,” Steve said. “I’ll go check on her.”
“Thank you,” I told him as he sank through the floor and vanished.
I’d do it myself, but I had to get ready for a visit with Darth Vader and couldn’t really show up covered in cobwebs and dirt. However, if Birdie was still down there when I got back, we were going to spend some quality time together in my crawlspace.
“Gram, I’m taking part in a surprise ambush on John Travolta this morning. Want to help me pick out an outfit?” I asked, grabbing another cookie and heading upstairs.
“Thought you didn’t like surprises,” Gram pointed out.
“Only when they happen to me. You want to help?”
“Can a fish cry underwater?” Gram asked, following me.
I stopped and stared at her. “Can it?”
“Can what?” she asked, shooing her beau away. “Jimmy, as much as I adore ya, I’m gonna have a little Daisy/Gram time.”
He bowed politely, blew Gram a kiss and disappeared.
“I have it real dang bad for that dead man,” Gram said, patting her heart. “Jimmy Joe Johnson just dills my pickles and then some. Sometimes the porch light is on and nobody’s home, but he’s awful cute. Have to be careful with him though, seein’ as how he cries all the time.”
Looking up at the ceiling, I smiled. Reality was a relative word in my happy home. “Awesome. However, you didn’t answer my question.”
“What question?”
“Can fish cry underwater?”
“Do man-eatin’ sharks eat women too?” she shot back.
“That’s your answer?”
“You betcha,” Gram said with a cackle as she flew up the stairs to my bedroom.
“It’s no wonder I turned out strange,” I said to no one as I took the stairs two at a time. I needed armor and a lightsaber for my meeting this morning.
However, a spiffy outfit would have to do.
* * *
“You know what’s weird?” I asked, slipping into black suede boots.
Gram tilted her head to the side and waited for the punchline. It didn’t come.
“Was that an actual question?” Gram asked. “Cause if it was, I can think of about a hundred million things that ain’t quite right.”
I laughed. She was correct. The fact that I was having a conversation with my dead grandmother was definitely one of them.
“Do you have something specific on your mind, sweetie?” she inquired.
I did. Upsetting her was the last thing I wanted to do, but the question had lived in my head for many years.
“Why didn’t we ever talk about my mom much?” I asked.
My words lay heavily in the air.
My head felt light and I kept on with my task of getting dressed to avoid the fact that I’d possibly just pulled the pin out of a grenade.
Checking myself in the mirror and trying to decide if the outfit was right was a mindless thing to do. I never really thought much about what I put on, but even I knew the outer layer was important today. Sweatpants and a t-shirt were sadly not an option.
I’d tried on a few dresses, and then decided on black pants and a fitted cashmere sweater instead. Gram had vetoed jeans. I kind of liked the disrespect jeans showed, but I wasn’t a child acting out. I was a woman who needed answers from a man who might or might not give them to me. Looking like an adult was a smart start.
“You gonna cover those eyes?” Gram asked, referring to my sparkling gold peepers.
“Nope, and you didn’t answer my question.”
Gram hovered next to me and wrung her hands. “At first, we did
talk about your mama, but you would cry for days on end. You didn’t eat—barely talked. After a while, I stopped. Couldn’t stand to see you so sad.”
“I don’t remember that,” I said with a shake of my head. “Why don’t I remember?”
Gram shrugged and gave me a hug. “Don’t rightly know, Daisy girl. You were only five. The brain does funny things to protect us from pain.”
“You think I subconsciously pushed all of it away?” I asked, walking over to my dresser to choose earrings and a necklace.
It was odd how distant I felt talking about the woman who had given birth to me—Alana. Neither Gram nor I ever said her name. Maybe I had pushed memories away because they’d been too hard to handle for someone so young.
“Possible,” Gram said, pointing to a pair of small silver hoop earrings and a thin silver chain necklace with a diamond drop. “Wasn’t until the day you met Missy that you seemed to calm down and come back to life.”
“Missy and I met around the time my mother died, right?”
Gram nodded. “Yep. Didn’t care much for Missy’s parents—they were as mean as snakes and as worthless as gum on a boot heel, but that little girl was a dang ray of sunshine. She made you smile through your tears and you’ve been as thick as thieves ever since. I just love that little gal.”
“I do too,” I said, absently putting the jewelry on and wondering why I didn’t recall what Gram was talking about. “Can I ask another question?”
“Daisy girl, you can ask whatever you want,” she said, kissing the top of my head. “If you’d like, we can sit down sometime and I’ll tell you all about your mama.”
“Say her name, Gram.”
“Will that hurt you?” she asked, more serious than I’d ever seen her.
“No. I think maybe it hurts more to pretend she didn’t exist.”
“Alana,” Gram said quietly. “Means valuable and precious. Maybe it’s time you got to know her.”
I nodded and something in my heart broke. Maybe it was time. I had no clue how long Gram would stick around and when she left, the memories would go with her. The only way a person lived on was in the memories of those who loved them. I couldn’t love my mother unless I knew who she was.
A Most Excellent Midlife Crisis: Good To The Last Death Book Three Page 12
