by Alice Gaines
“What it sounds like. I’m going to spend the rest of eternity with you.”
“I’m here for a week, pal.” Six more days, actually, as she’d already slept one day away. “This was good. We can do it again if you want.”
“Good?” he said. “It was a lot more than good.”
“All right, it was fantastic, but after a week, I’m heading back to New York.”
“But, I don’t want to live in New York.”
“Did anyone invite you to?”
He stroked a finger down her nose. “Mates live together, mate.”
She pulled away and sat up. “Stop calling me that.”
“What should I call you?”
“My name, maybe?”
He stretched out on his back and put his hands behind his head. “Gloria.”
“How do you know that, anyway?”
“I know everything about you.”
“So you said.”
“You were born in Wharton’s Bend, Idaho, and graduated first in your class of thirty-seven students. You can’t stand caviar, and your hair is really red and curly.”
“Who wants to eat fish eggs?”
“Why do you do that to your hair, anyway? Black doesn’t go with your skin, and it sticks out all over the place.”
She reached up and touched her hair. “You think?”
He smiled and shrugged.
Wait a minute. She didn’t have to listen to his critique of her appearance. He’d walked out of the ocean and given her a good shtupping, but he didn’t own her.
“Who are you, anyway?” she said. “And don’t tell me you’re my mate again.”
“I’ve had a lot of different names over the years. You’d only recognize a few of them.”
“Try me.”
“The Greeks called me Poseidon, the Maya call me a chac. The fellow who did the portrait of me you liked so much called me the Sea God.”
“Did you doctor that painting?” she asked.
“I might have.” His grin grew outright smug. “I didn’t lie about my dimensions, though, did I?”
“You almost gave me a nervous breakdown.”
“I had to get your attention, ma… Gloria.”
“How did you do that? How did you do all of this?” She gestured all around her. “Who the hell are you?”
“Better to ask what I am.”
“All right, what are you?”
“I’m the sea. I’m the origin of all life. I’m the element water. You’ve heard of earth, wind, fire, and water. I’m water.”
She gaped at him. The man was certifiable. Bonkers. One inkblot short of a Rorschach deck. And she was sitting here talking to him.
“Nice to meet you, Mr. Water,” she said. “And thanks for the roll in the hay.”
“Sand,” he corrected.
“But I have to go. Now that you’ve destroyed my clothes, I’d better unpack and find something else to put on.”
“Good idea. You wouldn’t want to burn that redheaded skin. I’ll wait here.”
“You don’t understand. I’m going to go into my cabin and call security to tell them there’s a maniac on my island.”
“It won’t do you any good.”
“We’ll see.” She got up and walked off with as much dignity as she could muster, given that she was naked and had just let the man fuck her out of her mind.
“Yes, we will,” he called after her. “We certainly will.”
* * *
Quarian could have saved his time reading those self-help books. Women obviously didn’t want truth and honesty any more than they used to. He should have tried seduction instead of directly telling Gloria VanSant who he was. Bless Creation, women still loved sex as much as they ever had.
No matter. He had most of a week to convince her she belonged with him for eternity. Unfortunately, she’d gone back into her cabin hours ago and hadn’t stuck her nose outside since. Would she really stay in there the whole time while a paradise waited for her out here? A paradise and him.
He’d chosen her specifically for her spirit, of course. A docile female could make for a pleasant dalliance, but eternity with one would be pure torture. He needed a woman who could stand up to him, challenge him, keep him at the top of his game.
An element only mated once. He could have hundreds or thousands of affairs over the centuries, but when time came to create an eternal partner, he got only one chance to choose correctly.
The sex told him he’d chosen very well, indeed. Granted, some time had passed since the little French aristocrat had proved so amusing. But he knew the difference between mere lust and a strong sexual pull toward one particular woman. Gloria had done more than pull him. She’d drawn him in so completely, she’d owned him. Even now, hours later, he could still feel her sweet cunt milking his cock into an orgasm so strong it had held all the power of the ocean’s waves. Right now, his prick was growing stiff under his loincloth. He needed her again. So soon.
He would seduce her this time. The sun would set in another few hours. By then, he’d have a campaign planned to win her heart. Wine, flowers, and music. A fantasy straight out of her own memories and dreams.
Chapter Three
Quarian knocked on the cabin door again and got the same response.
“Get lost.” It didn’t sound nearly as certain as the last time she’d said it, though.
“You wound me to the quick, Miss VanSant.”
Silence. He could almost hear the wheels turning in her head. The concept of wounding someone to the quick probably didn’t come up too often in her everyday life. She’d be even more perplexed when she opened the door.
He adjusted the lace at his throat.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said, but she sounded curious this time.
“Does our passion mean nothing to you? I give you my soul, and you cast it aside. I live only to please you.”
“Yeah?” She paused. “How?”
“I’ve brought a modest repast. Quails. Wild mushroom. Crème brulee.”
Soft footsteps approached the other side of the door. “Crème brulee?”
“And champagne.”
“You didn’t murder me this afternoon. I guess you won’t do it now.”
“I only seek from you the small death that brings us life. In that way, yes, I’d kill you a dozen times over.”
The lock turned, and the door opened a crack. “Don’t think this means I’m changing…” She took one look at him, and her voice trailed off. “What are you supposed to be?”
“What do you think I am?”
Her eyes widened, and she backed away with her fingers covering her mouth. Clearly, he’d surprised her with his costume. He entered the room, closed the door, and walked to the table. After setting the dinner tray there, he bowed deeply.
“Don Juan,” she whispered.
“At your service, miss.”
“How did you know?”
“An astute lover knows how to please his lady.” Of course, having access to her most intimate desires helped. The Agency of Extraordinary Mates maintained detailed dossiers on all potential mates. Their exclusive clientele would demand nothing less. He had a whole stock of characters to choose from to win the reluctant Miss VanSant. Don Juan had seemed the most potent, and from her reaction, he might have been right about that. Who cared if her ideal Don Juan held little resemblance to the real person? Her image of the famous lover was what mattered.
“Where did you get that costume?” she asked.
He looked down at the scarlet satin coat and breeches. “I’m resourceful.”
“You tied your hair in a queue.”
“Do you fancy wigs? I could conjure one if you prefer.”
“No. You look…” She stopped and stood for a moment, and then a tiny smile curled her lips. “You look wonderful.”
“My spirit soars,” he said, placing his palm over his chest. “That you would find my poor person acceptable brings me greater p
leasure than I can say.”
She giggled. “Hokey, but it works.”
“Come, let me give you sustenance.” He pulled out a chair and waited until she sat. She looked over her shoulder as he pushed the chair back in. He let his fingers drift to her shoulder. She wore a strapless top, leaving plenty of soft skin for him to explore. When he touched her, she shivered slightly. A good sign. With a flourish, he removed the lid to the tray and set it aside before he sat down.
“This smells delicious,” she said.
“I aspire to satisfy all your appetites, dear lady.” He snapped his fingers, and lighted candles appeared on the table. In the background, the sound of a mandolin played a love serenade.
“I must be out of my mind letting you in here.”
“You allowed me into territory far more intimate than your bedchamber this afternoon,” he said. “Priapus is most eager to reacquaint himself with Cunny tonight.”
“Why, sir, you make me blush.”
Wonderful. She’d entered the fantasy. Even better, she gave him a shy smile, and he could almost imagine that she did blush. Don Juan appeared to be making some headway that Quarian couldn’t.
He took her hand in his and raised her fingers to his lips. “A blush becomes you. Over your cheeks and down your throat, all the way to the very seat of your desire.”
“I fear I’ll need some strength to endure that.”
“Let me feed you.” He picked up a knife and fork to cut a piece of quail. He lifted it to her mouth, and she took it between her lips.
“You feed all my hungers,” he said. “Such tiny, perfect teeth. Like pearls. I’d love to wear a garland of them around the tip of my rod.”
She giggled. A thoroughly delightful sound and quite the opposite of what anyone would expect from the hard-edged New Yorker who’d confronted him on the beach. He’d read her history, however, and it described a shy young woman who’d had to scratch and claw her way to the top of the art world. She still had a rich fantasy life, obviously -- one that he could use to good advantage in his quest to win her heart.
After setting the fork aside, he picked up a slice of morel. Creation only knew where the AOEM got a fungus that normally grew in the north woods in the United States. He lifted the morsel to her lips, and she took it into her mouth, giving his fingertips a kiss as she did.
Her eyes closed with pleasure as she chewed and swallowed the mushroom. “Everything tastes so good here. How do they do it?”
“This place is more than an island, fair lady. It’s a state of mind.”
“I confess it’s put me in a state.” She gave him a coy smile. “But not by engaging my mind.”
He opened the champagne. The cork flew out with a loud pop, which she greeted with more laughter. He smiled at her while he poured two glasses and handed one to her. That done, he moved his chair even closer to hers so that they could link their arms together as they drank.
Her lips came away moist with the wine, so he kissed them. She tasted of fruit and honey. Sweet beyond all reason. He’d kissed human females over the centuries -- some better at it than others. All women were beautiful. All women tempted him. All women could beguile his cock. Only this one could own him with a tender kiss. He had, indeed, found his mate.
She pulled back after a moment, her eyes wide. “How do you do that?”
“Do what?”
“You take me right out of myself. I think I can resist you, but my will dissolves whenever you touch me.”
Good. She felt the same pull he did. She could no more fight destiny than he could. He only needed to make her see that.
“We’re meant for each other, my love,” he said.
“Who are you? Really.”
“I’ve told you. Really.”
“Water.”
“The most basic element. Life itself.”
She rose and walked to the picture window that looked out over the ocean. The candlelight cast a reflection of her in the glass. He made the appropriate gesture with his hand, and a negligee of the finest white lace replaced her top and shorts. The delicate fabric flowed over her shoulders, leaving the tops of her breasts bare, and outlined her form as it fell to the floor.
She gasped.
He walked up behind her and took her in his arms, pulling her back against him. Her buttocks pressed against his crotch and started the chain reaction that would have him fully erect in moments.
“Don’t be afraid, love,” he whispered into her ear.
“I don’t know who you are, or how you can do these things.”
“You know everything you need to know about me.” He nibbled at her earlobe and then kissed the soft skin below her jaw. Lower and lower he went, all along her neck to the base of her throat. She sighed and grew pliant in his embrace.
“This is the real you, Gloria,” he said. “Feminine, romantic. Woman, through and through.”
“I can’t be. The world won’t let me.”
“Ah, yes. Your world demands that you have bigger balls than any man, that you deny your loving side. To hell with that world.”
“It’s the only one I have.”
“You love beauty, and yet your world denies it to you. Tell me what your world says about art like the painting of me in your museum.”
“It’s trite and unimaginative.”
“You know better, though, don’t you?” He nuzzled his nose against the side of her face. “Your world won’t even let you have your own taste in art.”
“Modern work is beautiful, too.”
“Nonsense. Today, an artist would paint me as a series of little boxes or squiggly lines. Unrecognizable. You want the real thing.”
She didn’t answer but stood in his arms with her gaze focused on their reflection in the window.
“This is the real you.” He raised his hands to cup her breasts, squeezing them gently. “Soft. Giving. Lovely.”
She tipped her head back and closed her eyes. “Yes.”
“Yes,” he repeated. “I need you.”
She turned in his arms and tipped her face up to his. “Take me.”
He pulled her against him and took her mouth in a kiss. With as much restraint and tenderness as he could muster, he moved his lips over hers slowly. She leaned into him and responded -- at first cautiously and then with more abandon. After a moment, her mouth opened and her tongue grazed the surface of his upper lip. He moaned, answering with his own tongue, taking them deeper while his cock hardened in his breeches.
No woman had ever inflamed him the way this one did. Just a kiss, and she had him throbbing and hungry for coupling.
He bent and picked her up in his arms. She gazed up at him with complete trust in her expression. How far they’d come since the afternoon. Two souls in need of joining recognized each other, no matter how much intellect might try to resist. Tonight, he’d make her his in every sense of the word. His love, his eternal mate. She wouldn’t deny him now.
He carried her to the bed and set her on the spread. Lace flowed all around her, and an angelic expression lit her face. He stripped out of his clothes, almost tearing the satin in his haste, and joined her.
He kissed her again, more roughly this time, taking her mouth as a drowning mortal might take air. Her hands moved over his arms and back, creating friction and urging him on. He trailed his tongue along her throat to her collarbone and below. With her chest rising and falling, her breasts seemed to swell as he cupped one and planted kisses over the top of the other. The stiffened nipple poked up into the lace, so he took it between his lips, fabric and all, and sucked.
She drew in a harsh breath and arched her back, pushing her flesh deeper into his mouth. He let his palms wander all over her while he switched to the other breast. He moved his hands over her ribs and along her sides to her hips. As he did, he bunched the lace up in his hands, pulling it upward over her legs and hips. He slid lower, still massaging her. Lower and lower until his face found the mound between her thighs. After pushing the gown up
ward to her waist, he could gaze on her sex -- his ultimate goal.
“Sweet Cunny,” he murmured. “Sweet, sweet Cunny.”
“Kiss it, please,” she gasped.
He ran his tongue along the folds of her pussy, from the entrance upward to her clit.
She trembled and whimpered. “More, please.”
He repeated the caress a few times, each time more firmly. Her hips jerked each time his tongue found her most sensitive spot, so he ran his arms under her thighs to hold her fast against his mouth. Then, he went to work in earnest.
Her clit had hardened into a firm, little nub that he could pull into his mouth. He teased it, sucking and rubbing it with firm strokes of his tongue. Her cries grew louder, her movements more frantic as she strained against his face. Her movements told him she ached to come, but the longer he could draw this out, the stronger her orgasm would be.
He stopped for a moment to let her rest, and she dug her fingers into his hair to urge him on. He teased her some more, driving her closer to the edge this time. Her whole body tensed, so he paused again.
“Don’t stop!” she cried. “Please, don’t stop.”
“You want to come?”
“I need to. Please.”
He took her clit back into his mouth and laved it with every bit of skill he had.
Her cries built, one on another until she sobbed. Suddenly, her hips moved right off the bed, and she shouted as she came. He kept up the pressure, pulling every bit of response out of her while she climaxed. The orgasm seemed to go on forever before she finally fell back, limp.
He let her drift on the pleasure for a moment before sliding up beside her and pulling her into his arms.
“Oh, my,” she whispered. “I had no idea.”
“We’re made for each other. Admit it.”
“Oh, my. Oh, my, my.”
“My lady’s pleased, I take it.”
“More than I can say, my lord.” She reached between them and took his cock in her hand. “I daresay turnabout’s fair play.”
“Priapus yearns for you. Soon, he’ll weep.”
She ran her fingers along the length of him and squeezed. “Such an eager fellow.”
