Mystic Realms: A Limited Edition Collection

by Nicole Morgan

  “If you’re going to be the best, the price is your heart. It’s the work that is tattooed over your heart that will get you the recognition you want,” he had said once to her.

  She had thought that researching to give people what they wanted in her designs, was a smart idea. The result, she realized, was that her work was generic. As good as everyone else’s, but not good enough.

  “May I touch it?” Andrea asked, eyes still glued to the tattoo.

  Lucy nodded. Used to seeing people ask to touch Con’s tattoos, she hadn’t really thought of what it would feel like to have someone touch hers. Andrea’s hand was cool as it stroked across the tattoo. Lucy’s body stiffened as someone whistled. Immediately, Andrea drew away her hand. Lucy hadn’t realized they had an audience. She had worried that no one was interested in her art, but now, she had about ten people staring at the tattoo that was still exposed because her hand still drew her tank top down. Her face flamed again, especially when one of the judges passed by in that moment and stared at it as well. People were whispering.

  Trying to affect an air of disinterest, she calmly released the neck of her tank top and slipped her shirt back over her shoulders. Now, people were giving her displayed art a second look. Andrea was giving her a speculative look when the Judge walked up to her.

  “That’s a tattoo worthy of an award,” he said, as he glanced briefly at her chest, as though he could still see the tattoo. For a moment, she thought he might be flirting but after that glance, his eyes never strayed. Pulling a card from his pocket, he handed it over to her and continued, “All the awards have been assigned, but if you ever need anything as a tattoo artist call my office. You show promise.”

  With that, he gave her a nod, and he was gone. She glanced at the card, Jared Wilson. A squeal broke her concentration. Andrea was practically jumping in excitement.

  “Jared Wilson, Creative Director of Willful Art. They have the best graphic designers and artists in all of America! They also own the Willful Art Gallery. You get a showing there, and you’re made!”

  Andrea’s enthusiasm was just as much as hers, only more expressive. It seemed like the Little Brunette had decided to attach herself to her. It seemed Andrea is my good luck charm today.

  She hadn’t realized she had spoken out loud until Andrea replied, “More like your fairy godmother,” with that speculative look back in her eyes.

  Andrea was about to respond to that when one of the couples viewing her art signaled to her. They wanted to buy three of her pieces, and the most expensive ones at that! When she was done with them, another lady wanted her attention. She had seen the tattoo over Lucy's heart and wondered if she could have one like it. Lucy felt rather protective about that tattoo. Thank God for the lessons she had learned while watching Con handle customers. She had been able to convince the lady to fix an appointment when they could discuss and create a tattoo specially for her.

  The convention was close to rounding up, and all her works were sold when she realized that after that first couple, she hadn't seen Andrea again. The tingling at the back of her neck warned her that she hadn't seen the last of Andrea. But she ignored it as she had started to do for the past year. She didn't need any more misguided premonitions.

  “Hey, babe! How was the convention?”

  “Con! You’re not going to believe it? It was better than I thought it would be!” Lucy nearly squealed into the phone. She had just gotten into her apartment. Con must have calculated the time when the convention ended and how long it would take her to get to her apartment. She kicked off her shoes and sighed in relief as she sank into her old comfortable, couch. Lifting her right foot onto her left knee, she began massaging her heels and toes.

  “You sound excited.”

  "More than excited! I sold all my art, have four appointments, and dozens of people took my card for when they were ready to get their own tattoo."

  “That’s great! See? I told you it would go fine.”

  “Yeah, you did. I didn’t get an award though.”

  Con snorted, "If you take my advice, you'll get all the awards you need. Stop designing all that commercial crap and create your own style. You don't create what people want because people don't know what they want until they see it. So, you make them believe that what you've created is what they want."

  Lucy was quiet for a moment, “You know, I finally understood why you said that today. I met someone today. Andrea Smythe. Do you know who she is?”

  “Doesn’t ring any bells.”

  “She’s Ryan Milton’s adopted sister.”

  “The Jazz?” Con whispered.

  “The very same one.”

  "Please tell me you got a contact for the Jazz and had fixed an appointment for us to meet him."

  Lucy chuckled into the phone, “We didn’t get around to talking about that.”

  As Lucy expected, Con broke into all kinds of swearing that she would never repeat.

  "That's bullshit! You've been stuck on the man for most of your life, and you didn't think to find a way to connect with him through his sister?"

  “It didn’t come up. Besides, it was just my late teens, not most of my life!”

  Con snorted, “Please, you can lie to yourself, but don’t extend that deceit to me. You are still stuck on the Jazz. Tell me you at least got the sister’s number. Then all hope is not lost.”

  “Well…”

  “You didn’t? Did all the attention go to your head? Lucy, it’s bloody the Jazz that we’re talking about. And you let our only connection to him get away?”

  Lucy understood that Con would be an ass where Jazz was concerned. The man had basically been his role model.

  “It wasn’t intentional. Andrea asked to see the tattoo. It drew more attention than I thought it would. By the time I attended to all the customers that wanted to buy art or book appointments, she was gone.”

  Con was silent.

  “Con?”

  “You showed Andrea your tattoo?”

  Lucy smiled softly even though she knew that Con couldn’t see it, “Yes, I did. You are right. I have been trying to give people what they want. But what they want is heart.”

  “Wow! You’re learning fast.”

  “Yeah,” Lucy suddenly remembered something, “I met Jared Wilson.”

  “Of Willful Art?”

  “Yeah, that’s the one.”

  “Talk about lucky. So many celebrities in one day. I’ve got to start going to these things. Who knows? The Jazz might decide to come to one.”

  Lucy rolled her eyes, “Please, your lazy ass has only got three settings; art at work, out for a run, and home with Stace.”

  Con laughed at that, “I’m not that predictable.”

  “Con, you order the same thing every time we go to MacDonald’s.”

  “I prefer home-cooked meals.”

  "Stace bought you new sneakers, and you still wear your old one."

  “I like my comfort. My old sneakers have been broken in the right way. I’ll have to start over with a new one.”

  “You’ve worked at Thorn’s Tattoo Parlor for the past five years even though you could work anywhere.”

  “I’m just waiting for you, baby. You start your tattoo parlor, and I’ll be glad to come work for you.”

  “Predictable.”

  Connor scoffed.

  “How’s Stace, by the way?”

  “She’s fine. She managed to convince me that we should go on a holiday. We’re going to Florida next month.”

  “That is exciting.”

  “See, I can be unpredictable.”

  Lucy laughed, “Stace has been begging for this for the past year. That’s hardly spontaneous. In fact, I suspect that one of the reasons you gave in is because of how much you hate the cold.”

  Con muttered something inaudible under his breath. “Okay. Maybe I am a little predictable. But I’m not boring thank God, or Stace would have dumped my ass ages ago.”

  “Hardly, Stace is c
razy about you.”

  "She is, isn't she?" Con had that wistful note in his voice whenever he spoke about Stacy. She was an accountant, a tiny girl and good as all get out. They had met at the house of a mutual friend and somehow, she fell in love with the tattooed bear of a man that Con was. They were most likely the most unmatched pair in the universe. Seeing them together was like Beauty and the Beast, only, Con was handsome. They were two different people who just happened to fit perfectly together.

  “I think I should call her.”

  “And that’s my cue to get off the phone. Sayanara, Romeo!”

  “You’ll still be coming to our place Sunday, right?”

  Lucy grimaced, “Not this Sunday. Jake’s birthday is this Sunday and step-mum has decided to throw a little get-together, her words not mine.”

  “Shit! That’s this Sunday. Thank God you reminded me. Jake wouldn’t fuss if I forgot, but Stace, she takes those things personally. I’ll to go scouring the shops for something. You must celebrate everyone who is important to you.”

  He seemed to be quoting her verbatim.

  “Well, good luck with that. I’ll be stuck playing Helen’s perfect little step-daughter.”

  “Sorry, babe. I’ll call Sunday to see how you’re holding up.”

  “Thanks, Con. You’re the best.”

  “You bet I am.” He quipped, always having the last word, then he ended the call.

  Lucy stretched on her couch. It was not even 6 pm yet, but she felt drained. She wondered if she had the strength for one more call. And decided against it. She would call Jake tomorrow. Dragging herself off the couch, she picked her shoes and walked barefoot to her room.

  It wasn’t long before she was dreaming again.

  Lucy stilled. His gentle voice caressed her neck, the sensual purr of longing in his voice like soft puffs of cool breeze for her heated skin. “Am I dreaming?” she asked.

  She heard a low chuckle, but couldn't see anything. She could hear him. His scent surrounded her in a warm cocoon. With his arm around her from behind, she couldn't even reach out to taste his skin. But, she could never see him. She felt his large, callused hands cup her breasts, kneading them and tugging on her nipples till she moaned. His breathing was shallow as he pressed closer against her back. More than anything else, she wanted to see him, craved to see him, but no matter what she did, she never could. She only ever felt him, then saw his big tattooed strong back when he left.

  Big warm hands stroked over her torso. He stroked along her belly in a rhythm only he seemed to hear. Her belly tightened in arousal. Up the curves of her breasts, he wrapped each breast in his palms, weighing them before he pushed them together. She badly wanted him to put them in his mouth, feel him draw on her. But he never ever came to her front view. She wanted it so badly though that she thought would even allow herself to be blindfolded just to be able to experience him. He plucked at her nipples softly. She moaned, wanting more. Hearing her unspoken request, he tugged harder causing her breath to catch in her throat. In response, she ground her hips against the erection blooming against her cheeks. This time he groaned.

  Lucy was aching and wet. She wanted him now, and she didn’t want to wait. Before she could voice it, he slid one of his hands down her torso. Burrowing his finger through the tiny patch her just above her mons, he cupped her. A rumble of male approval echoed through the room when he found her wet and swollen with her need. His thumb pressed against her center and spread her wetness around but he avoided the very place she needed his hand the most. Wanting to push things faster, she ground her clit into his hand. The pleasure was immediate and immense but short-lived. He had removed his hand. She whimpered in frustration. She wanted friction so badly. She wanted him inside her now. Deep male laughter sounded in her ear, “Impatient, darlin’?” he whispered, pushing one thick, long finger deep into her.

  "Please—" she gasped, holding onto the hand around her breasts for support. He started to pump his finger in and out of her dripping sheath, and her moans grew loud.

  His mouth, soft and sensual, as he pressed them against her shoulders, then her neck, made her breathe even more shallow. When he bit the curve of her ear and soothed it with his heated mouth, she gasped, clenching around his fingers. She was close.

  “I’ve been waiting, years and years, for you.” He whispered.

  “I want you…Make love to me, please,” she whimpered.

  His strong body wrapped around her as he lifted her leg to spread her thighs for him. When he removed his finger from between her thighs, she whimpered. But the feel of his thick, hard cock probing at her entrance had her calm again. He made love to her in a long, slow possession of her body.

  “Mine,” he murmured against her mouth. “I’m never letting you go…All mine!”

  “Yours,” she whispered as he thrust deep, burying his cock completely inside her. He loved her slow and sweet, pulling out and pushing back inside her with slow, delicious thrusts. Soon, the pace increased. Shifting his weight to one arm, he reached down to touch her clit in just the right way. She clenched around him as he circled her clit. When he removed his hand and licked her cream off his fingers, she felt herself go into overdrive.

  “Harder, please.” She pleaded.

  He gave his finger one more lick then with a hungry groan, started to ride her hard. The wet sounds of their fucking filled the room. He held her tight to his chest, and he gave deep, hard thrusts into her. The sounds of her moaning seemed to be his undoing. He gave a deep growl as he buried his face against her neck.

  “Mine!” He muttered, driving deep.

  “Yours!” She screamed in response, as he hit a particular spot deep inside her.

  Digging his fingers into the soft curves of her ass, he turned her face down, ass in the air, without withdrawing from her. Leaning down, he wrapped himself around her, holding her close to himself as he filled her with sharp thrusts of his cock.

  “Mine!” he growled as she started to come, squeezing down around him and shuddering throughout her entire body. Her back grew sticky from the fine coat of sweat on his front. But she was lost in pleasure as he pushed his thick, wet cock back inside for one deep final thrust. He stroked against the bundle of nerves deep inside her, pushing hard enough that his balls slapped against her clit. Her scream of pleasure was muffled into the pillow as she came a second time. He came inside her, flooding her with his come.

  “Mine!”

  “Mine!”

  She woke up with that growled word still in her ear. Her body was sweaty, and she had thrown the covers off sometime during the night. But Lucy was alone in her bed. As alone as she had always been after these dreams. As alone as she had been ever since the dream started when she turned eighteen. She stroked her hand across the tattoo over her heart. The intricate tattoo on his back was branded into her mind. It was the only thing she knew about him. The sad part of it was, she had never screamed like that for anyone else. It had ever only been him, the phantom man of her dreams. She had never told anyone about it, though. Though, she thought Con might have his suspicions.

  "What the hell…" she muttered shakily. This time had felt different somehow…more intense…more real. She was aching and swollen between her thighs, as though she had actually experienced a sex marathon. That was new. She climbed out of bed and into her bathroom to stare at herself in her full-length mirror. She didn't look any different, but she sure as hell felt different.

  “He’s not real.” She told the woman in the mirror. It had been her ritual after the dreams. But the tattoo on her chest mocked her, revealing that the man in her dreams was more real to her than she admitted. She put her hand against the tattoo, remembering how she had designed it after one of the dreams. It was the first time she had actually seen the tattoo. Her photographic memory had picked up every detail, and she after working up her courage, she had Con tattoo it into her skin. From that time on, he had become a real man to her.

  A part of her wished that he was
more than a tattoo on her chest and a man in her dreams. All these years that she had dreamed of him, she still knew very little about him. She cataloged what she knew in her mind. He was tall, with thick muscles that rivaled Con's. His back was covered in tribal tattoos. He had chocolate brown hair. He was an amazing lover with a really huge…

  She shook her head to take her mind off the tangent it wanted to go down. The summary was that she knew nothing about her dream man, and if she continued pining over a man that didn't exist, she would never truly live life. Lucy took a deep breath and slowly let it out. She couldn't continue living like this. She needed a man…a real man. Surely, a real man would eclipse all her fantasies about a man that was more of a phantom. Resolved on her path, she decided that she would be more open. Perhaps tomorrow, she might even meet a someone at Jake's party. She waved off the shiver of unease she felt run through her. Turning away from the mirror, she decided, it was time to move on.

  Chapter Two

  Lucy was hiding from her step mother. The ‘party’ was just what she had expected. Helen had thrown the party of all time…for old geezers, boring socialites and trust fund babies. It was everything that Jake was not.

  They weren't trump-rich, but they were comfortable. Her dad had been one of the Silicon Valley mafia, at least that's what he had always said. For most of her childhood, it had been herself and her father. Then, when she turned twelve, her father married Helen. She moved in, with seventeen-year-old Jake in tow and her life was never the same again. As far as she was concerned, only two good things came out of her father's marriage; her father experienced the love of a woman for seven years before he died. There were a lot of things she could say about Helen, but she had loved Jeff, and for that, Lucy had tolerated her. The second best thing was that she got a brother. Jake was just the best. Not many knew they were step-siblings, they were that close. Well, they were until she met Con. Jake still joked that Con and Lucy must have been siblings from another time, because of how close they were.

  Lucy had delayed coming home till she was absolutely sure the party would have started. Muted classical music had played in the background when she entered their foyer. George was at the entrance, just as he had always been when they had first moved into the mansion. He was not a butler or anything like that, but he had always insisted on answering the door, so her father had stopped arguing with him about it.