Spice

by Seressia Glass

  His gaze bored into hers as he reached for the bag at the end of the sofa then held it out to her. “Pull a card, Nadia.”

  She did. “The eighteenth manner.”

  “Yes. El kebachi, after the fashion of the ram. Do you remember the details?”

  She shook her head. “I’m guessing doing it ram style means rear entry?”

  He smiled, and heat stained her cheeks as her thoughts went to her slapped and pinched and supersensitive butt. She’d agreed to anal sex once, years ago. The experience had been painful and unfulfilling. She had a feeling that Kane would make it good for her, make it something she wanted, something she’d even beg him for.

  “Down on your knees, sweetheart.”

  She immediately obeyed, sliding off his lap and to her knees on the thick rug in front of the couch. Clasping her hands in her lap, she looked up at him, waiting, wanting.

  His gaze roamed over her slowly, taking her in as he rose to his feet. “So beautiful. And so ready for me, I think. On your elbows now, so I can see how ready you are.”

  Nadia turned sideways between the couch and the coffee table, slowly sinking down to her elbows, laying her hands flat on the floor. The position tilted her ass up in the air, thrusting her empty and aching pussy back and out. A tremble went through her, not one of fear or cold, but one of pure, blind need. She needed him to fuck her. Not make love, not have sex, but a hard, animalistic pounding that was about nothing but getting off fast and furiously.

  Her position meant she couldn’t see Kane, but she heard him move. Her breath caught at the sound of his zipper. Her awareness fanned out, wanting to sense him. She enjoyed watching him undress, watching him strip away the university professor and reveal the man beneath the jackets. She loved seeing the change come over him as social filters fell away and he allowed the hunger and need and dominance to take control.

  Without her sight to aid her she was left with her imagination, imagining him stepping out of shoes and socks, removing his jeans and tossing them over the back of the sofa. In the silence she pictured him carefully unbuttoning his shirt before slipping it off and laying it next to his jeans. Next came his underwear, his boxer briefs sliding down his thighs to reveal the beautiful length of his cock, the thick head already shiny with pre-come. Her mouth watered as her mind filled with the gorgeous, breathtaking image of a naked and aroused Kane.

  “Are you imagining me naked yet, Nadia?” he asked, his voice low and amused in the silence.

  “Yes.” Anticipation stretched her nerves whisper-thin when he knelt behind her. Her skin prickled, her desire hitting the breaking point as she waited for the first touch.

  She still jumped when his hands settled on her buttocks, his thumbs dipping into the crease, opening her up to his gaze. “I can see how wet you are, Nadia,” he told her. “Like spilled honey on your thighs, begging to be tasted.”

  She should have been embarrassed with how much she wanted his touch, his tongue, his cock, but she was beyond that. “Taste me, Kane,” she half begged, half demanded. “I need your tongue on me.”

  He set his teeth to her left cheek, bit down. She cried out, her pussy flooding with desire. He soothed the sting with a gentle lap of his tongue, then continued licking over her heated skin. He held her open as he licked in the crease of her buttocks, circled his tongue over her perineum. She shuddered, her brain momentarily forgetting how to form words.

  “You like that, don’t you?” he asked, brushing his thumb over the puckered opening. “Have you had anal sex, Nadia?”

  “Once,” she admitted, her breathing short and choppy. “Didn’t like it.”

  “I can make it good for you.” His thumb gently pressed against her, and damn if she didn’t want him to breach her there. “I can make you want it.”

  “Believe you,” she managed to say, pushing back against him. “Need you. Please, Kane.”

  He sucked in a breath. “Love the way you beg for it.” He dipped his fingers into her drenched slit. “Love how ready you are.”

  One moment she was empty and aching, the next shockingly full as Kane buried himself in one powerful thrust. With a guttural groan he began to power into her, a steady rhythmic ride that made her spine tingle with each slap of his balls against her. Matching his rhythm she rocked back against him, tilting her hips to drive him deep, deeper, so deep.

  His hand tangled in her hair to hold her in place. The other, fingers slick with her juices, teased her back opening. “Yes, yes—oh!”

  His thumb penetrated her and the world went white-hot. She came with a short, sharp scream, her inner muscles clamping down on his cock and his thumb as she rode the ecstasy he gave her.

  Dimly she heard him curse, and he shifted his grip to her hips as his pace actually increased, the force of his thrusts scooting them across the carpet. Passion coiled inside her again, spiraling higher while her inner core clenched around him in time to his strokes. Just when she thought she couldn’t hold off, couldn’t wait for him, he slammed against her, a hoarse shout tearing from his throat as he jetted inside her.

  The feel of his orgasm triggered her own. She collapsed, taking him with her. His weight felt good against her, covering her, his hips still moving as if he couldn’t help himself.

  She released a bone-deep sigh of contentment. “Kane,” she whispered, because his name said everything she needed it to.

  He pulled away from her slowly. “I’m going to make it my mission to have sex with you in a bed.”

  She rolled over with a laugh. “Beds are overrated.”

  “You say that now.” He kissed her, slow and stirring. “Wait until you feel the rug burn on your knees.”

  “It was worth it. So worth it.”

  Somehow they made it upstairs and into the master bath. In the shower he lathered her body with soothing strokes, mindful of the carpet scrapes on her arms and knees. He always took care of her afterwards, as if doing so gave him as much pleasure as foreplay did.

  After toweling dry, he guided her to bed and tucked her in, a move so tender it brought surprised tears to her eyes. “What’s wrong?”

  “I’m good, I just . . . I don’t want you to go. Will you stay?”

  The smile he gave her made her belly flip-flop. “I’d like that.”

  He joined her beneath the sheets, cradled her against his chest. It had been years since she’d slept next to a lover, but this felt . . . nice. Better than nice.

  Like something she could come to crave.

  THIRTEEN

  Tuesday rolled around, as it had a tendency to do. After the morning press and the lunchtime rush, the café quieted down. With all the baking and cooking done for the day and their part-timer manning the register, Nadia and Siobhan joined Vanessa and Audie for their informal Tuesday recovery-group meeting, affectionately known as Bitch Talk.

  Jas had coined the term, and it suited them perfectly. Sometimes they gathered to bitch and moan then get on with their lives. Other times, one of them was in sore need of a verbal bitch slap, which the others were more than happy to deliver. Still other times, others from the community dropped in, or came for the formal group meeting that Jas ran on Sunday afternoons with the help of some psychology advisers from Herscher.

  Nadia was more than happy to lend their space to the community, and she knew Siobhan felt the same. Letting various groups meet at the café was just part of their core value of giving back, as much as donating leftover food to the food bank or running extended hours in the week leading up to finals. The one thing that had almost made them change their mind about putting down roots in Crimson Bay was the discovery that the town didn’t have a group for those in narcotics recovery, nor did it have one for alcoholic recovery. Even Herscher College hadn’t had anything open to the public and very scant opportunities for students outside of one-on-ones with school counselors. Since sharing and support were integra
l parts of the road to recovery, Nadia and Siobhan had established their group in the café. Though the numbers ebbed and flowed, the four of them were always the center of the group, and Siobhan as the eldest was its leader.

  Nadia looked at each woman at the table. They were her friends, her sisters of the heart, and she loved them like family. “Would anyone like to start?”

  “I can.” Vanessa nodded, staring down at her tea. Her hand shook as she lifted the mug to her lips then set it back down without taking a sip. “I was in the parking lot at Murphy’s last night.”

  Nadia suppressed a groan of dismay. Murphy’s was the local bottle shop. Its stock in trade were beer kegs for the local college kids, but it also offered plenty of wine and hard liquor.

  “Vanessa.” This time they all leaned toward her, but no one gripped her hand. Not yet. That wasn’t how Bitch Talk worked.

  Vanessa sighed, her hand trembling as she gripped her mug. Of the four of them, she was the outsider—all class, culture, and discipline with an impeccable and fashionable wardrobe and not a hair out of place. Outwardly, not as much of a mess as the rest of them were. Vanessa was always perfectly put together, her dark shoulder-length waves usually pulled back in a graceful chignon, smartly arched eyebrows and makeup expertly applied to her smooth bronze skin. Somehow she didn’t even leave lipstick prints on her mugs. Her posture was always ramrod straight as if she’d spent years at Catholic school. She was, by all appearances, perfect.

  That perfection came at a price, Nadia knew. The pressure Vanessa Longfellow’s family put on her to achieve and have the perfect life had led her to alcohol when she was a teenager. For years she’d hid her dependency, smiling on the outside while slowly dying on the inside.

  “I sat there, staring at the door,” Vanessa said, her voice smooth, calm. “I imagined myself walking up to the entrance and stepping inside. The bell would tinkle overhead, and the clerk would greet me with a smile as soon as he realized I wasn’t a college kid. He’d tell me about the wine tastings they were having the following weekend, and I’d ask him about the latest shipments from my favorite winery up north. Then I’d slowly walk down the row of wine, taking my time, looking at all the pretty bottles. Then the hard liquor. So many pretty bottles.”

  She laughed, a bitter sound out of place in the cheery café. “Next thing I knew I was at the checkout, and I had a cart—a cart—with six bottles of wine, a bottle of Midori, a box of Chambord, and a cheap bottle of vodka. It was the bottle of vodka that made me stop. Do you know why? Because it’s the kind Nadia uses to clean her countertops at home.”

  “God, what happened?” Audie asked, her usual vibrancy muted.

  “I lied and said that I forgot my wallet, then ran out,” Vanessa confessed. “Then I drove home and snorted up a pint of ice cream.”

  “I think she means what happened to set you off,” Siobhan clarified.

  “And why you didn’t call one of us while you sat in the parking lot,” Nadia added, one eyebrow arched.

  Vanessa pursed her lips slightly, spinning the mug of tea in her hands. “Mother called me,” she said, then stopped. For a long moment she sat silent, her mouth working silently. “About my sister.”

  This time Nadia did reach out, wrapping her fingers around Vanessa’s free hand. While Nadia didn’t know Vanessa’s mother or sister personally, what she did know of them was unpleasant. “What did she do?”

  “You mean Katherine? What hasn’t she done?” Vanessa replied, bitterness filling her tone. “She’s exceeded every one of my parents’ high expectations. The best college, the best grades, the best degree. Charity work with my mother. And now she’s engaged to the president of Caldwell Investment Services.”

  “Isn’t that guy like, fifty?” Siobhan asked. “And your sister’s twenty-six?”

  “Yes, but it doesn’t matter. All my mother cares about is how well his pedigree will elevate the Longfellows. She said, ‘I thought you’d like to know that while you’re wasting away in that little California backwater, your younger sister is engaged to be married to the man who endowed the Caldwell chair at MIT.’ Then she proceeded to ask me if I’d bought a cat yet, since she despaired of me ever giving her grandchildren worthy of being Longfellows.”

  “Ouch,” Siobhan said with a wince. “That’s pretty damn harsh.”

  “It’s par for the course with Madeline Longfellow.” Vanessa grimaced. “I know I shouldn’t let that woman get to me. I know I should let it go. She’s just doing what Father tells her to do, what she sees as her motherly duty to unleash fine upstanding citizens onto society. It infuriates them that they gave birth to such a flawed child.”

  “Stop it!” Nadia cut in as she leaned over the table. “Don’t you dare talk about yourself like that. You know good and damn well that you aren’t flawed!”

  “Aren’t I?”

  “No!” all three of them shouted in unison.

  “She then dropped the little gem that they’d done a genetic test, seeking to prove that the hospital where I was born had made a mistake,” Vanessa told them, her voice again pleasant and even. Apparently showing emotion wasn’t to be done if one was a Longfellow. “They’ve been arguing about whose family tree may have rot in the roots.”

  Nadia listened to her friend with horrified dismay. Vanessa was a sweet young woman, beautiful, and at twenty-eight, still had plenty of life left to live. It wasn’t her fault that she was born into a family that valued the appearance of perfection more than love.

  “You don’t need them,” Nadia said vehemently. “They may be your born family, but we’re your chosen family. We’re your sisters. We have your back, and to hell with anyone who doesn’t think you’re awesome just the way you are!”

  “Damn right,” Siobhan agreed.

  “Fuck yeah,” Audie said in her blunt way.

  “I’m still mad at you for not calling one of us,” Nadia continued. “What’s up with that? I know I’m not your sponsor, but I am your friend. I would have come right over.”

  “Well . . .” This time Vanessa’s smile was genuine. “I actually figured that you’d be busy. And naked. Very busily naked.”

  “Ah . . . oh.” A blush burned up Nadia’s neck to the roots of her hair. “I, ah, I probably was. I still would have come.”

  “Enough about me,” Vanessa said, once again the picture of composure. “I managed to come to my senses and live to be sober yet another day. Personally, I’d much rather live vicariously through Nadia. It’s been a full two weeks of you and the naughty professor. I’m assuming he got all the cobwebs out of your Tunnel of Lurve?”

  “Vanessa!” Nadia gasped. Vanessa so rarely relaxed enough to get blue that it was shocking when it happened. It was a sign that they were finally rubbing off on the woman. Nadia personally thought she’d be much happier if she lowered her inhibitions a lot more, but her parents had shoved the stick so far up her behind that Nadia doubted they would ever be able to extract it. That didn’t mean they wouldn’t try though.

  “So?” Audie prodded. “Are you going to fill us in or what?”

  “I’m afraid to,” Nadia admitted. “We probably come off as boring compared to what you’re used to.”

  “Hey,” Audie protested, bumping her shoulder into Nadia’s. “Aren’t you guys supposed to be living examples of what constitutes normal? How am I supposed to know what plain old everyday sex is supposed to be if you guys don’t demonstrate it for me?”

  “I’m not demonstrating jack shit to you, beyotch.”

  Audie batted her lashes at Nadia’s teasing. “Or maybe you guys should come to a swing club with me one night so I could do a live demonstration for you. Or you could invite me to join you. Then we can compare notes or something.”

  “Or nothing.” Vanessa took a sip of her tea, her composure once more firmly in hand. “I think my ears need bleaching.”

  “So
not going to happen either way, Audie,” Nadia retorted, unsure if the redhead was joking or not. She knew Audie often spent her weekends partying in one sex club or another. While she wished Audie didn’t go alone, Nadia would rather have Audie in the relative safety of a swinger’s club than trawling bars.

  “How are you doing, Nadia?” Siobhan asked, giving everyone verbal whiplash with the abrupt change of subject.

  “I’m good.” She couldn’t hold back her smile. “We’re good. He’s good. I don’t think I’ve ever been this good before.”

  “Oh, that’s awesome!” Siobhan said, her happiness obvious. “I thought your parents would have scared him off.”

  “Oh trust me—the third degree they put him through was not pretty.” Nadia shook her head. “The game of ‘let’s embarrass Nadia’s date’ that happened at the club wasn’t all that cute either.”

  “Whatever.” Audie waved her hand dismissively. “He had fun, and you’re obviously still together, so it’s all good, isn’t it?”

  “Of course it is.”

  “Do I hear a but in there?” Vanessa wondered.

  “Not really. I’m more than likely borrowing trouble where there’s none to be had. I should really just keep my eyes wide open and enjoy it for what it is.”

  “What is it?”

  “The best sex of my life.” She sighed.

  Siobhan leaned an elbow on the table. “That doesn’t sound like a good sigh. What’s going on?”

  “Nothing.” Nadia chewed her bottom lip. “He stayed over last night for the first time.”

  Audie huffed. “Seriously? You’ve been boning the guy for two weeks and that’s the first time he’s had to use your toothbrush?”

  “Audie!” Vanessa and Siobhan reprimanded in unison.

  “So he stayed over. What’s the big deal?”

  “He stayed because I asked him to.” She’d thought about it all morning after he’d left. “I asked him to stay, and he gave me this smile like I’d given him a birthday cake or something.”