Shades of Pink

by 33 authors

  “Are you a scientist?”

  “A recovering one.” His smile lit up her world, which had been growing darker as the coral blanched whiter. “I still teach marine biology and ocean conservation part-time at the university, but prefer direct action in the sea to lecturing in a classroom.”

  His nearness sent heat running through her, part sexual hunger, part something else, generating questions her heart needed to answer. “Then you won’t mind if I conduct an experiment.” She cupped her hands around his cheeks, angled her mouth up and kissed him, pressing harder until he opened to her in welcome. Her tongue flicked his, teased it, danced with it. He groaned and pulled her against him, returning her ardor. His erection stabbed against her belly, those hard muscles of his chest rubbed her now tight nipples in erotic invitation.

  “You taste like the sea. If you want to kidnap me to be your lover, I’m your willing victim.” He suckled at her throat. “Let me worship you, Bara, my goddess of the waves.”

  Energy whipped through her veins, hot and potent. A glance at her skin, she noticed a soft glow. His response to her, and his promises were renewing her magic, making her stronger. “Yes,” she replied, as eager as he was. With a blink, she lay on his bed, her hands holding the wrought metal headboard, offering herself up to him. Dylan sat next to her. His eyes had darkened black with need and held a glint of mischief.

  “Neat trick.”

  He ran his hands gently up her legs, teased the soft flesh of her inner thighs so she opened wider to him. “Your body’s so smooth and hairless, like touching silk.” With one hand, he tenderly opened her labial lips. With the other, he used one finger to trace around her clit now swollen and throbbing with need. His thumb pressed it softly, caressed it with a circular motion until she groaned and liquid gushed out of her. “Do you taste like the ocean here too?”

  “Try it and find out.”

  One finger pushed inside her, then pulled out again, leaving her in a pool of want. He licked it, his gaze tethered to hers. “Mmm, yes.”

  Then he licked her straight up and aggressively flicked at the swollen nub.

  Her body burned with pleasure. Every touch of his tongue, blissful agony. When he suckled her clit into his mouth, she came with a deep, soulful groan.

  “You sound like the waves against the shore.”

  “Where the water meets the land is my domain.”

  “It makes me so hot. I want to hear it again.”

  His hands continued up her body, each cupping a breast. “They fill my hands as if they were made for me.”

  Squeezing one, he blew a breath across the nipple then kissed the tip. His mouth open, he slowly licked around it, across it, letting her watch his tongue torture her. Her body squirmed for more. He tormented the other peak with his thumb.

  “You’re a tease,” she whimpered, so desperate to be taken. She felt so alive. His every touch renewed her, escalating her desire to a fever pitch.

  “I like to play in the ocean, ride the waves.” He nibbled at one peak. Her back arched up for more, pelvis lifted in primal need, rubbing against his erection until she drew out a long, hungry moan from him.

  “Dylan, I am the waves.”

  His eyes widened. “Oh mercy,” he groaned, and plunged into her hard as if he had lost control of himself.

  Her body bucked up, eager for this, for him. “Don’t hold back. Make me strong again.”

  With every thrust, she felt the magic ignite, sparkle through her body like little firecrackers under her skin. The speed of his ride, the wonder in his eyes and the growing intensity of his growls, told her that he felt the magic too.

  She came again, the moan even louder, as she felt her body crash against the land, then relax back into the sea. The orgasm rolled through her body and took him with her. He bellowed before collapsing gently on top of her.

  Her body throbbed with pleasure and renewed power. She glanced at the skin on her arm, shining with a rosy glow. Why was he able to do this? Maybe his passion for the ocean worked like a modern version of reverence —not specific to a pantheon or temple, but to the integrity of the natural world—the world the ancient gods guarded over. But she had believed science and technology, which seemed to give humans dominance over nature, led the people away from the magic. Now she wasn’t sure anymore, and needed to know more. Many people loved the ocean but it had never been enough to return her magic.

  She gently took his shoulders and turned him onto his back. He went easily, his breathing still ragged, his heart beat a rapid staccato in her ear. He had given her everything he had and she wanted to thank him. With a snap, she called a sponge from the ocean to her hand and a vial of kelp oil. With lazy strokes, she massaged his chest, arms and legs. His eyelids closed, he sighed in delight.

  His long blond lashes created shadows on his cheeks, making him look young, vulnerable. She poured a few drops of oil onto her palm and caressed his cock, now soft and relaxed. With each tender pull, he hardened in her hand.

  “Wow, I’ve never rebounded that quickly. Did you do something?”

  She nodded then realized his eyelids remained closed. “Yes, your body is touched by my power for the moment. And kelp oil has aphrodisiacal properties.”

  “Will you take me in your mouth?” His eyes opened, his kelp-green gaze captured hers, drew her into his soul, demanded something of her. “Having the sea as my lover is a dream come true. I want to experience all of you.”

  “Oh yes, I would like to taste you, to lick and suck and pleasure you.” His erection pulsed in her hand, his breath grew ragged and his pupils darkened. “But I want to ride out the orgasm.”

  “I’m good with that.” This time, he reached over his head, grabbed the iron headboard and offered himself to her.

  She fluttered kisses along his length followed by long, swirling licks of her tongue. At the mushroom cap, she flicked at the tip. He arched up, his cock pushed against her lips wanting inside. She opened to him and stroked him with her mouth.

  “Oh, heaven,” he growled, “it’s like being caressed by a wave.” He threaded his hands into her hair, his touch gentle, almost loving. Power surged through her. Something about this man, his life, and his heart was making her whole again. She let herself sink into his taste, the rhythm of his body, until she felt his hands tug at her. “I’m about to come.”

  Drugged on his spirit, she moved slowly, lifting over him to take him inside. When their bodies connected, so did their very life essences. Dylan poured all of himself into her. The gift overwhelmed her, drowned her in pleasure, and for the first time in decades, hope. Her cries of release thundered through the ocean and the response was immediate. The whales heard her and sang back.

  “What just happened?” Dylan asked.

  “I’m not sure. We need to check it out.” She snapped his scuba gear onto his body including the underwater tablet and raced them back to the coral reef where she first saw him. While he collected data, she touched, eyed, smelled, tasted and listened to the reef. Where she had earlier run her hand, some new pink coral had formed. One bud, a promise, but not yet a guarantee.

  Her review finished, she was content just to watch him work. He was detailed and thorough, and loved her ocean. Done, he nodded and she took them back to his house.

  “What did you find?” she asked after she had stripped his gear off and kissed him for a while. She really liked kissing him.

  “Woman, you want me to look at data after the lip-lock you just gave me?”

  “Yes.” She gave him her sexiest smile. ”I’ll make it up to you later.”

  His eyes searched hers, probing for something. “For a promise of later, I can be persuaded.” He took another kiss, grabbed his tablet and headed for the second bedroom that he had converted into a mini lab. Bara had not had a chance to investigate this room earlier. While he settled himself at the computer, she looked around. State-of-the-art computer hardware, lab and underwater photo equipment gleamed from care. Across one wall, photo
s of the reef over the years hung side by side, marking the changes, stark and frightening. Another wall showed off all the ocean life he encountered. Fish in schools, dolphins at play, a whale kid suckling his mother, masses of kelp on the shoreline. This room defined him. Here is where he spent all his time and resources. He had made it a shrine—to the study of the ocean.

  “How long have you charted the reefs?”

  “Since I learned to dive at 12, about 20 years ago.”

  “Your love of the ocean turned you to science?”

  He nodded abstractedly, absorbed in the numbers floating across the screen. “And art. The photography is not just for research. It taps my creative side, lets me explore and share my obsession in another way.”

  He leaned back in his chair, his forehead wrinkled deep in thought. “The data show that the reef is healthier this afternoon than it was this morning. Did our lovemaking do that?”

  “Yes, I think so.”

  He turned to look at her and captured her gaze with his. “Then stay with me. For a week, a month, a year…a lifetime. I don’t know what I can ask of a daughter of the gods, but whatever I can have, I want.”

  “To save the ocean?”

  “And to love you. You’re my life’s passion made real in my arms, my every hope for the world invigorated by our joining. My love heals you. How can we not be meant to be together? I would willingly join you in the ocean if I could.”

  With slow steps, she glided over to him, sat in his lap, snuggled in his arms and kissed him hard and eager. “I need you here, continuing with your research. I hadn’t understood before. I thought science was dangerous, destructive, imposing logic and efficiency over hope and heart. Trying to subject nature and magic to its will. But I get it, science is what you do out of love—it’s your offering to the ancient gods. You’ve made your life into a shrine that connects the ancient magic with the power of science.”

  She kissed him again and again. “I love you, too. You’ve become a part of me, a part I no longer want to be without. I’ll live with you here as I can but must return regularly to the sea.”

  He picked her up and carried her to the bed. “Let me show you where we're going to spend most of our time.” A photo hung on the wall above the headboard that she hadn’t noticed before—pink coral.

  Hope.

  ~~~

  Sabrina Garie is on a journey to create the most kick-ass heroine romance fiction has ever known and the hero who can take her. A believer that big, audacious goals spice up life, she relies on coffee, red wine and laughter to make those goals (and her characters) come alive. When not at the computer, she wrangles vegetables and extra helpings of homework into her fashion-loving progeny, kowtows to a fat cat and reads, a lot. Since it is more fun to travel in packs, come along for the ride. Catch the train at sabrinagarie.com.

  FLOCK THAT!

  Ellie Heller

  When Shannon's condo yard is filled with pink flamingos, she knows who's responsible. Damn her friend's interference! To avoid any trouble Shannon has to face Bryce, the man who dumped her without so much as a phone call. He tells her there's a good reason for his actions. Yeah, right.

  ~~~

  Author’s Note:

  The case that Bryce spends two years gathering information on is based on the allegations I read on Ian Paterson, a British doctor who has been accused of gross malpractice (those are my words). In an article from the Guardian they state: (link: http://www.guardian.co.uk/society/2012/nov/07/gmc-accused-surgeon-breast-operations)

  An alleged "rogue surgeon" has been suspended by the General Medical Council after it emerged he might have performed "unnecessary or inappropriate" breast operations on more than 1,000 women in Britain.

  Ian Stuart Paterson, a breast cancer specialist who worked at NHS and private hospitals in the Midlands from 1994 until last month, is suspected of misdiagnosing at least 450 of the women with breast cancer when they were in fact healthy, and then performing unnecessary "lumpectomy" surgery.

  He also performed unconventional "cleavage-sparing" mastectomies on 700 other women, despite the procedure not being sanctioned in the UK. The technique involved leaving breast tissue around the cleavage area for cosmetic reasons but went against national guidelines which state that no excess tissue should be left behind as this could lead to a return of the cancer.

  My heart goes out to these women, ones who have been told their surgeries were botched as well as the many who had been told they had cancer and had surgery when, in fact they didn’t have it and nothing needed to be done. I simply can’t imagine the mental agony of either. May you see justice done and regain balance in your lives.

  Shannon McKiplock did a double take at the sea of pink out her window. No, no, no! There couldn't possibly be plastic flamingos covering her postage stamp of a yard. No way Anya could have moved that fast! Just last night, they'd joked about the flamingos over sangrias on the back deck. Anya thought it a perfect way to get Bryce's attention. Shannon wasn't sure putting the decorations up in her staid townhome community was the kind of attention she wanted.

  Coffee mug in hand, Shannon opened her front door, dreading what she'd find. It was bad. Her small patch of grass was indeed an undulating patch of shocking pink plastic flamingos. At least three-dozen birds marched in offset rows, covering the entire surface. Her stomach sank, and the nutty aroma from her coffee, so pleasing a minute ago, twisted her gut.

  This “surprise” flocking was sure to be the final straw with the homeowners’ association. This time, she’d no doubt receive a fine or whatever they did when they’d had enough. The infraction was on her head, despite the fact she was the recipient of the action, not the instigator. Then again, she was sort of the instigator, but she’d been joking with Anya when she announced the bright pink birds would be just the thing to get a rise out of Bryce, the condo association’s president and her ex-boyfriend.

  Although, calling Bryce an “ex-boyfriend” was a bit generous. They’d only gone on half a dozen dates before he’d simply stopped calling and disappeared from her life. Of course, Shannon could have called him, but his timing had been diabolical. She’d been hit with the emotional tide of clearing out then selling her mother’s house, made all that more difficult as everything was still in probate. When she’d finally come up for air, several weeks had passed, and it would have been, well, awkward for her to call to say she’d just realized he hadn’t called. Besides, what would she have said? ”I know you haven’t called in two weeks but I’d still like to go out.” Clearly, he hadn’t felt the connection she had.

  Shannon pulled her phone out of her pocket and noted the illuminated icon for a voice message. The call probably had come through while her macaw, Sinatra, and her pair of cockatiels, Davis and Martin, were screeching in displeasure at her cleaning and rearranging their cages. Anya had probably counted on something of the sort.

  "Hi." Anya sounded as frenetic and breathless as always. "Heading up to the in-laws’ cabin with the kids. Hopefully, by the time I get back on Monday, you'll be talking to me. But it needed to be done. Stop waiting for him to notice you're there. Grab life by the horns and head over there and take charge of your life."

  Shannon would kill Anya for this. What she hadn't shared was she didn’t have the money to pay any fees the association might assess for this transgression. And, good Lord, if they threatened her with legal action, she’d be totally screwed.

  And, joy; here were the Beckers, heading up her walk. Mrs. Becker’s coifed, white hair glinted in the morning sun while Mr. Becker paraded along with his usual fedora and cane. He looked even more skeletal than usual. The man had lost more weight, something he couldn’t afford to do. They stopped, Mrs. Becker in front, as always, her hands clenched tightly on the handles of her alligator purse. Behind her, Mr. Becker swayed and looked like he might totter before he finally came to a halt.

  “We didn’t know you supported 4-H, how lovely.” Mrs. Becker’s slight smile had an edge to it, as if
saying something nice grated on her nerves. Her nose wrinkled at Shannon's attire. Or it might have been the smell; Shannon had just cleaned out her birds’ cages.

  “My friend, Anya Stinson, does." Shannon stood straight, as if she'd didn't have bits of millet chaff dusting her, not to mention who-knew-what-else. "She’s the one who sent these to me.”

  The smile disappeared. “Good. Then you can call her and ask her to remove them.”

  Shannon looked around the complex. Tidy, two-story townhouses in sets of four dotted the landscape. She’d picked this subdivision because the location was close to work, and it seemed like a good investment. Plus, they didn't allow dogs or cats, a fact which many of her co-workers thought was odd, given she volunteered full time at a no-kill shelter. But she knew if she could bring animals home, in no time she'd be living with half a dozen. Or more. As it was, she'd already lost her dining room to the three birds she'd rescued.

  However, as the Beckers constantly informed her, she hadn’t realized the rest of the myriad rules attached to owning a condo. She’d started out wrong the first day when she’d set up a slip and slide in her backyard for Anya’s kids. Then again, two weeks later, she’d played music on her back patio for a small memorial party in honor of the third anniversary of her mother’s passing. She planted unapproved flowers, set her garbage out at the wrong hours, and had the temerity to display a brightly colored flag, only to be told that American flags were the only acceptable ones. In three months, she racked up twice as many infractions. A tally she was certain the Beckers, and by extent the association, since she was sure they’d complained, were well aware of.

  The original idea might have been to provide an opening for a conversation with Bryce, but now, the purpose didn’t matter. The flamingos were a harmless fundraiser, for goodness' sakes. She wasn’t going to call to get them removed. Not unless someone with more authority told her to. The Beckers, or at least Mrs. Becker, had bullied her enough. If there were all these inane rules and regulations, maybe someone needed to start taking a stand.