Fire Heart (Broken Bottle Series Book 2)

by Taeuffer, Pamela

  I washed my face and used the complimentary makeup remover pads for my eyes. I slipped off my dress and put on the robe. When I walked out of the bathroom, I hung my dress on the same one I'd used for my coat.

  "Don't let me forget these when we leave tomorrow."

  “Oh, Nicky.” The story of what he wanted was written all over his face. "Come here and let me give you a little kiss."

  "Promise?"

  "Just a kiss," he repeated.

  I walked to the table and he took me into the nest of his arms. They were luscious, bulging life, and they felt so right it was as if I was made to be in them forever. When he squeezed me, I felt his heart beating fast.

  I was helpless on his lap.

  I wanted to submit to him.

  He kissed me tenderly on the lips.

  "I'm going to stick you with the queen of spades, babe. I'm the resident Hearts expert in the clubhouse and I intend to beat you handily." He kissed my forehead.

  "Get ready," I warned. I sat in the chair at the little table and rubbed my hands together, ready for the challenge.

  We played the best three of five, ate our bananas and yogurts, and although the last game was close, he beat me with a lucky run of taking all the hearts in the last game.

  "Lucky," I chided. "Damn it. You were lucky."

  "I know." His voice seemed to lower a full octave. "If only you'd trumped that diamond trick you would've stopped me. Whelp," he stretched. "We'd better go to bed." He pushed up from the table and turned off the TV.

  "Yeah, we have an early morning," I agreed. "Yikes! It's already after 2:00 a.m."

  I put the cards back into the deck and got up to throw away the yogurts and banana peels.

  "Leave those for now." He reached for my hand and walked us to the bed. His body fell on top of mine. His eyes narrowed. I knew he wanted to begin another kind of game—one I'd never played.

  My robe was loose on my body. When his big pitcher’s hands flattened on my belly, his hips began to move as if he’d already begun the rhythm of making love. The story of what he wanted was written all over his face. As he continued pulling on and caressing my body, I fantasized that I might become his instrument. I imagined him moving his bow all over me, playing a bedtime lullaby for new lovers. Although he'd showered, I could still smell all the scents of the Irish Cultural Center in his hair, and Frances’s perfume seemed to linger from their hug goodbye.

  “Ryan.” I struggled to stay in the moment.

  He raised his head to look at me.

  “You know I love it when you look up at me. Your beautiful green eyes are hypnotic as they try to figure out what’s happening to the woman they’re guarding. Don't you sense that I’m breaking through your walls?” The lush carnality of his voice was an invitation my body responded to in every way. “They’re coming down brick by brick. Soon you’ll be wide open—everywhere.”

  He rolled to the side, stood, and lifted me so that I pressed against me. We moved together in little sways. I drifted back to our night on the beach, watching the breezes blow the pine trees side to side. That night in Yountville, my body was like one of those trees, bending and swaying from his force. When he placed my palm on his volcanic chest, it was enough to bring me to my knees.

  His hands opened my robe, exposing my body in only a bra and panties. A slow smile spread greedily across his face. Fingers lifted and reconnected as if they were matches striking against my skin, igniting and exploding in fire. There were a million nerve endings lighting up inside me as he squeezed, released, and squeezed again, making our primitive souls circle, call out, and come together as if we were in a tribal dance.

  “Can I take off your robe?" His big hands were already on my shoulders waiting for my permission. His eyes were heavy-lidded.

  "Yes." I knew I’d show a lack of trust in our relationship if I didn’t do as he asked, so I granted him his request.

  Each of his big hands grasped the collar. He bared my shoulders and leaned over, kissing each of them. His soft lips brought chills that ran down my back and his hair brushed my cheek. I felt as if I was suspended in an electric moment, hovering in the thick air, waiting for the next touch of his fingers. He untied my belt and the entire robe fell open. I stood before him covered only in my bra and panties as the robe fell from my body and dropped at my feet. His smile was lust-filled and wicked.

  "You are . . ." His gaze darkened almost dangerously.

  My stomach tightened.

  Betraying me with each second that passed, my body seemed to lose the ability to stand on its own. My Evil Twin was rising and as she showed herself, encouraged me to let go of my strict and unmoving boundaries. Only moments from surrendering to his urges—as well as my own—pulses rolled and ached in my belly.

  Invisibly, my white flag shot into the air as his mouth went across my collarbone, licked its hard ridge, trying to summit and conquer my crest. Generously, he covered my bare shoulders and arms with his kisses. I bowed my head, weak and no longer able to withstand the engulfing waves of desire that consumed me. Finally, even my mouth gave in and opened to his passion.

  His body became bigger, as if gathering the power it needed, power he'd depended on and had come to know with other women, the blood circling in his pelvis, readying him for his sensual release. I felt small, but also safe in his lion's lair. When he rubbed his cheek against mine, a warm sensation moved through me.

  Every part of my body was on alert.

  Aware of a new pulsing need, I felt his long, moist tongue, thick and swollen on my face. The way he used it lulled me into complete and utter wonder—and brought tormenting pleasure.

  “Mmm, Ryan, that feels nice."

  “Turn around.” He released me from his embrace. His hands lightly traced along my back, touching me at the base of my spine.

  It was as if I left my body and watched my invisible arms grow, grabbing at Ryan with wild abandon, finally reaching for the essence of a man I knew I wanted . . . I wanted for . . . ever.

  Chapter 34

  A Draw

  Ryan's hands framed my shoulders and slipped down my arms in a caress. His fingertips traced my navel and then slid in a slow and exaggerated motion around my sides to my bra.

  "Your breasts . . . I've waited so long to see them again." He unfastened the hooks, freeing them to be fondled and held. My nipples hardened with the anticipation of his fingers—or tongue—circling and sucking them.

  “Your big, beautiful behind.” One finger traced the curve of my back to the waistband of my panties. “I want to take your panties down and play with it all night long.”

  My backside felt the press of his thighs and stomach. Once again, his arms circled around me. Firm and persuasive, I became liquid in his embrace—heated, spilling, and running over.

  I covered my breasts.

  He placed his head on my shoulder.

  Man-sized hands found mine and rested on them, silently acknowledging my feeble attempt to shield my naked body. Urgent whispers breathed in an almost rhythmic desire. I found my soul moving with our music: gently, softly, wanting to be caressed.

  “I want you. I want all of you, Nicky. Will you lie with me tonight and give me your love?”

  His body pushed so hard into mine that I had trouble breathing. I could feel his erection straight up against my lower back. He was ready to be tucked inside my feminine folds, only moments away from new relief, bringing us into a different life . . . together.

  This new language of want seemed to rise from the depth of him. I felt cravings everywhere—inside me, from his body, circling around us that were primitive, squeezing and oozing from his masculine body. They soaked into me, and flowed like a thick lotion. I was covered in a misty dream; aware that my desire had reached a level I hadn't known existed.

  Ryan walked us closer to the bed.

  I knew we were about to make love.

  His hands held the back of my thighs.

  He lifted me onto the foot of the bed.<
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  I knew he wanted to lie on top of me. I wasn't ready for that. Instead, I wanted to immerse myself in our possibility and began an exploration of my own.

  Kneeling in front of him, I put my hands on his rugged jaw and squeezed it gently. The back of my hand ran over his cheek and the stubble that covered it. My fingertips walked delicately on his neck, tracing the throbbing veins in it, imagining I could take a bite of the life force inside. I outlined his shoulders. Unable to resist, I leaned close enough to kiss the hollow of his neck and ran my tongue along one of the heartbeats. Heavy breaths from his mouth were like wisps that covered my face. Flattening my hands on his chest, I hesitated as if holding his heart under them. It was strong, fast, racing. I splayed my fingers and rested them on his stomach. I had to admit it—I was at the mercy of this tribal man.

  “When I sit on the bed, I’m going to lift you onto my lap. I want to watch as you open your legs and spread them, offering me your body as you cradle my thighs. I need to feel your breasts touch my chest as you lie on top of me.”

  “Mmm.” I was floating in some other woman’s dream—a woman who was unafraid and ready for sex.

  It feels so . . . Oh, God, I’m aching so badly . . . if I could just rub my . . . against his . . . should I remove his towel? No. That would mean . . . I want him. No. I can't. Can I?”

  He lifted me onto his lap.

  My legs opened to embrace him just as he wanted.

  His devil-may-care-smile was revealing.

  I could hardly look at him.

  “You’re soaking." His tone was low and delicious. "You know that, don’t you?”

  “No.” I knew he meant my underwear was wet, but I didn’t know what to say. Instead of admitting it, I denied my awareness.

  “Uh-huh," he looked over my face as if he were taking my picture. "Yes, you do.”

  Oh damn, I’m going to faint. My head—there’s too much blood rushing and pounding everywhere.

  “I'm going to take your hands away." His hands rested on mine.

  "Wait. Wait, I—"

  "I want to look at you and feel all the parts of your woman's body. I need your breasts," his soft sigh brushed my lips. "I'll caress them gently, carefully taking a small taste so that I know everything about them. I'm yearning to feel your little nipple in my mouth. I need to suck it and roll my tongue over its hardened peak to understand the opening from where your milk will flow one day. My hands have waited so long to feel the warmth you hold in the crease of your breasts. I need to make them mine. I want to know all the things that make you excited, what turns you on and causes a fever to burn in the split of your body.”

  “Maybe, well, I . . . um, think maybe . . . I, we should stop and . . .” I trailed off.

  “Do you trust me?"

  "Yes."

  "I won’t go further than you want me to. Do you believe me?”

  “But, Ryan, I won’t—”

  “Put your arms around me,” he interrupted. He helped my arms partially circle around his back, while he pulled me closer.

  My belly touched his.

  My breasts ached as they touched the volcanic chest I adored.

  "Open your legs wider.” His breathing was labored. “Wrap them around my hips and hold me inside them; hold me tight. Let me feel your embrace around my body.” The way he slipped his tongue inside my mouth was as if it were his penis making love to my vagina. It was creamy, wet and luscious, and he seemed to have a little muscle on its tip—it lubricated both pairs of my lips. “I want you. Anytime you’re ready for me, I’m ready. Can you commit to me tonight?” His hand caressed my cheek. "You feel how much I love you, don’t you?”

  “Yes,” I inhaled sharply. “I feel you.”

  “I want you to slowly unwrap the towel from around my waist. Will you stay on my lap and do it?”

  “Mm-hmm.” Oh yes! I began to unwrap the thick terrycloth from his body.

  What do I do when "it" pops out? I'll close my eyes, I guess. How can I, though? It'll be right there. I want to see it. Can I look at it? I wonder what it will look like this close?

  “I’m desperate to be held by you; needed as if I'm what you need to be alive. Let me feel your hands on me. Run wild on me. Let me feel your desire come to life." He ran his hands through my hair and grabbed bunches of it. "Even now, I’m imagining the moist beads of your inner thighs on my belly as you move and squirm on my body when we make love. You've opened your mind to us. Now open your body. Tonight.”

  His hips rose up and down as he spoke, and his eyes became fixed on my breasts.

  “Ryan, I can’t . . . I can’t get this . . . you're sitting on the towel and I can't . . .”

  He leaned back.

  Lifted his hips.

  Enticed me to come closer.

  Flattened his hands on my stomach.

  The heat radiated through me.

  My nipples seemed to stretch for him.

  “Don’t let go.” Once more, I wrapped my legs around him. He stood up. I gripped his waist as tightly as I could. I trembled. I was sure the strength in my body was dwindling away. I was weak.

  My legs shook.

  He took off the towel.

  Quite unexpectedly, I found that he'd worn his briefs. Once again, he sat down on the edge of the bed.

  His chest rubbed against mine.

  Our two spirits danced, as if absorbing each other.

  “I love lifting you. Have I ever told you that?" His hands rubbed my shoulders and then slipped down the length of my spine. "I love feeling the muscles in your body move. When you reach for me and hold me? I want to fall into you.” He looked at his stomach and then at me. “I think I’m wet from where you rubbed on me.”

  His voice was searing and brought the aching in my pelvis to an unbearable level.

  “I . . .” I breathed a long sigh and closed my eyes. "I need—"

  “What do you need, Baby?” he asked softly. “What is it, my sweet woman?”

  “I can’t breathe and I need to . . .”

  His hips pressed up to my open legs; his obvious erection begged for my attention. I was nervous, scared, and excited all at the same time. It had been a beautiful night. I knew I should be ready for him.

  The old voices of doubt whispered in my head.

  I hesitated.

  Give in and he’ll leave you.

  Anything this good is bound to end badly.

  Abandonment is inevitable.

  “Ryan, I can’t stand anymore. I’m . . .”

  We fell back on the bed.

  He put his arms around me and rolled over.

  I was caged, as if a prisoner; seduced by the loveliness of his hips, belly, and chest. My soaked underwear and his briefs weren’t hiding anything.

  Our lips met, dreams pressing a promise together, crowning a glorious evening. During my ecstasy, I tightened and then loosened my legs as they surrounded him.

  The ways my muscles clenched and squeezed were signals that he felt. They told him my body was ready.

  I didn’t understand these were his guides—and he was paying close attention to them.

  I didn’t know that when my body was excited, he could feel it the same way I felt it.

  I didn’t know how in tune we were in those first weeks of trying to come together as lovers.

  My quivering limbs clung to his athletic body as he changed positions. Now I found myself on top of him, stretched open around his hips, ready to receive a man inside me for the first time.

  His chest was in full view. I felt him move, positioning his sensual stem to help my flower bloom.

  A monsoon of desire began flooding, completely taking me over. Everything about him was ready to love me. My body had prepared herself to love him.

  “Are you ready for me?" His hands reached for me, ready to touch my breasts, stroke my belly, and hold my ample cheeks. "Say it, Nicky. Please say it. Tell me you want all of me like I want you. Commit to me tonight—say you’re mine.”

 
; I wanted him.

  I wanted only to say out loud and without hesitation, "Yes, you're mine, I'm yours, and I want all of you."

  But I couldn’t say it.

  I couldn’t let him in.

  Once I opened my body I knew I’d lose control of my life.

  After he asked me to give up everything—school, career, friends, and family—he’d leave me.

  This is too much too fast. Nothing can last when it comes this soon. Get out now while you can.

  Even though college was only an hour away, it would be another world—a world I was convinced would demand I enter exclusively.

  If I told Ryan yes, I could never gain the independence I needed to leave my house once and for all, escaping the abuse, the suffering, the dysfunction, and sadness of my youth.

  I knew I had to stay tough.

  I couldn’t let myself be vulnerable . . . or take a risk to be happy in the way Ryan was asking. I couldn't depend on anyone else.

  I had to get out.

  I couldn’t live there.

  I was afraid of ending up like my mother.

  I was afraid of choosing a life that in the end I didn’t want, the way my father had chosen his.

  I was afraid of getting pregnant.

  I was afraid of getting lost.

  I was afraid to trust him.

  I was afraid to trust myself.

  All these years later, the little girl remained frozen under the dining room table, still hiding from the monster in her house.

  This time, I was the monster.

  This time, my fight would be with my own demons.

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  Resources

  Books

  Dirty Words, Ellen Sussman

  How to Please a Woman In & Out of Bed, Daylee Deanna

  Schwartz

  It Will Never Happen to Me, Claudia Black, PhD

  Oxford American Writer’s Thesaurus

  The Bald-Headed Hermit & The Artichoke, A.D. Peterkin