by Lyn Brittan
“I didn’t know.”
“You don’t know everything? Perish the thought.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”
“You’ll forgive him if he doesn’t follow your cultural mores. I pray he never tells you this, but if he does, for the love of everything, don’t tell him I told you. I’m going for a walk.”
Tig didn’t stop when Dinah cried out to him. Instead, he waved over his head and stepped out the door. Her sister turned around, arms akimbo. “I never told you how hard it was for me to accept that I was his mate. It seemed so final. I always thought I’d find the right guy, date and get married. ”
“But you did.”
“Thank you. We, you and me, have the option of walking away anytime we want. They don’t and it scares the crap out of them. Whatever we decide, impacts them for the rest of their existence. They have everything to lose.”
“My pain doesn’t matter?”
“You’ll find someone else, Cassia. He can’t. If you’re his hamdullah, you are all he has. I don’t know why Faruq’s holding back. He’s got plenty of reasons to choose from. Fear, pain, take your pick. But if you want to leave, do it now.”
“But you don’t think I should?”
“I think you’re a grown woman and you need to start acting like it. He needs to man up too. Figure it out, but you’ve got that man’s soul in your hands. He’d probably let you kill him, if you asked him nicely.”
“Dinah—”
“I’m done. Now I’m going to find my husband. My cell is right there on the table. Use it. Don’t use it. I don’t care. One more thing. I love you, but don’t ever come in my house, yelling at my husband again. Shut the door on your way out.”
Chapter Seven
Faruq woke up inside his lamp with coated thighs. One hand gripped the covers. The other went searching for a woman that wasn’t there. Was that all it took these days? He’d lost himself on the porch and now again, like a teenager, entering manhood for the first time. Having accepted Cassia as his mate left him with one major problem. What the hell would he do with her?
He hadn’t made love to a woman in years. His track record over the last few hours didn’t lend much support. Just the thought of her turned his cock to stone, and he sincerely doubted his ability to last. Nothing more humiliating than a woman having to wish a penis up.
He stepped out of his lamp and paced the hotel room. Hunger hit him the moment he did. While waiting for room service to bring up breakfast he strolled through the television selection.
The hotel had a rather fascinating collection of adult movies. Was this the modern woman? Free, open and secure in her sexuality? Things once relegated to trained courtesans, now appeared de rigueur.
Would Cassia ask to be spanked?
Pulled?
Stretched?
Would she get on her knees and take him in as far as he’d go? He grabbed a towel from the back of the chair just in time to avoid another mess. Room service knocked. He yelled for them to leave it at the door and shook his head in private humiliation.
The second round satiated him enough that he could fall back for a brief sleep after shoving down some toast. Cassia played a starring role in his dreams. They made love countless times in innumerable places. He’d just had her on a cliff when a ringing cell phone dragged him from her imagined arms. Groggy and bleary eyed, he reached for the phone with one hand and fingered the lamp the hung around his neck with the other. “Yes?”
“Faruq? It’s Cassia.”
Sudden clarity had him up and jumping out of bed. “I wasn’t sure you wanted to hear from me.”
“I think it’s better if we pretend yesterday never happened.”
“Right.”
“Except for the good parts.”
He pleaded for his heart to stop its acrobatics and garbled out a weak, “Oh?”
“I’m calling because I finished with my client a little early and was about to make some lunch.”
Had he slept that long? “I see.”
“This is the part where you invite yourself over.”
He channeled younger Faruq, the one that still had testicles. “Red or white,” he asked, while stepping into a pair of jeans.
“No need, just bring yourself.”
He slid on his shoes and threw on a shirt. “I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”
“Faruq?”
“Yes?”
“I wish you were here...”
And so, he was.
Cassia yowled at his arrival, jumping a couple feet into the air. “That’s so weird.”
“Said the witch.” He knew he belonged here, but arrived with no working road map of where to go next. Awkward, yet oddly at ease – heart racing, but soul settled. Cassia’s hand slid into his and she led him to the stove.
“Don’t get cute. Come over here and keep this pasta going.”
“It’s brown.”
“It’s whole wheat.”
“How about I cook next time?”
“Wow. You’ve got jokes now?”
“Actually, yes.” He put down the spoon and rubbed his forefinger along her chin. “I do and it feels very good to laugh again.”
She rose to her tiptoes and he readied himself for her mind altering kisses. Plush lips graced him with a light peck on the cheek, then she went back to mixing a salad.
Instead of disappointment, contentment took root. He could stand here next to her, swirling mud pasta and know he belonged. In a world of too fast cars and flashing signs promising immediate gratification, sometimes it felt good to just be.
Gentle cooking corrections greeted his every action. He’d enjoy showing her how to cook real food one day. For now, he nodded, smiled and watched her piddle around a kitchen of fresh food, windowsill gardens and old fashioned appliances. She clearly had a taste for vintage and he imagined her in poodle skirts and the treasure that lay beneath them.
“I thought we might eat on the patio. It’s nice out and all the flowers are blossoming.”
While Cassia had said patio, she’d apparently meant souped up back deck with built-in sofas surrounding an unlit fire pit. They brought the food out on two serving tables and bumped against each other on the smallest seat.
“Should we start with salad or—”
“Fruit,” he finished for her. Eager fingers grabbed a bowl and brought a blackberry to her open mouth. He didn’t drop it in. No, he dragged the dark fruit across her bottom lip, before popping it into his own mouth.
“You don’t like to share, Faruq?”
He shot her a wink and went back to the bowl. This time, he selected a strawberry for her. She took one bite, then another, before a nod of thanks. He found he quite liked serving her and gave her first choice among the selection. More than a few times, her lips closed in around his fingers and he’d pull free with a loud, pop.
Cassia reached for the wine between bites. For the first time since they’d come out here, her smile dropped. “I forgot the opener.”
“You’re a witch.”
“I don’t roll around with wine opening spells on tap.”
“I’m a djinn.”
The smile told him everything he needed to know. Cassia wasn’t the type to waste a wish. Hers would be glorious. “I wish...”
He licked his lips, expecting a repeat of her wish from before.
“I wish...”
And he leaned forward, angling himself for the best position. “Let’s hear it.”
“I wish you peace.”
It shattered him. The wish had no effect, yet managed to wholly destroy him. Wishes against djinn didn’t carry the weight of force, but as she sat there, lips parted and eyes wide, he almost believed that it worked.
Cassia latched onto his outstretched hand and he pulled her over, not stopping until he had her in his lap. He wasn’t ready to love her. The insecurities of his ability to perform hadn’t vanished, but he couldn’t not touch her.
He couldn’t not put h
is lips on her, because in those moments, nothing else mattered. Her hands around him gave him that peace she so wanted him to have. Cassia was his wish, made real.
She straddled him, her legs on either side of his hips. Cherry scented lips tugged at the corner of his mouth. “I wish—”
“No more wishes. Tell me what you want.”
“Nope.” She showed him, lifting her white t-shirt over her head. He’d had breasts shoved in his face before. These were the only ones that mattered. He wanted to bury himself in them. His hands. His face. His cock.
That bastard part of him started twitching already and he worried, once again, about his abilities to please her. “Cassia—”
“I know.”
“Kn-know wh-what?”
“That you think I might be your hamdullah.”
“Oh, that.”
“Yeah, that. And I don’t know if I want that, or if you do either. What I do know is that I want you. For now. However long that is. I might be done with you next week, but for today, I want to do this,” she said, as her tongue flicked his earlobe.
“And this.”
The same superb bit of flesh, traced the outline of his jaw.
“And I’ve been meaning to know what this feels like.”
That’s when the universe exploded. She’d risen, pushing her black laced bra and its fleshy contents into his face, just as her hand shot down to grab his manhood. He’d lose it. He’d drop his load right there, but he was in no condition to prevent that from happening. This was a damned state of bliss and he didn’t have the nerve to tell her to stop.
Blessedly, she did on her own.
Temporarily.
Cassia hoisted herself up only to put her hand on his chest and push him back on the ground. Pink painted fingernails undid his belt buckle. He lifted onto his elbows, watching all of this play out in slow motion. Even that was hard to do, given the fall and assuredly high rises of his chest.
Oh no!
He flopped back on the ground, running through a carousel of excuses. Just as he thought he’d stumbled upon the right one, Cassia threw him another turn.
She didn’t sit on him.
She didn’t straddle him.
She, in fact, got on all fours between his legs, grabbed his wood and slid her tongue up his shaft from the base to the tip. “That’s...really...sensitive.”
“That’s the point, stupid boy.”
He couldn’t see her face. That would require prying his cinched tight eyelids apart.
“Look at me.”
Fuck him, he did.
She didn’t break eye contact when her tongue danced around its opening, nor when she pursed her lips and blew across the edge of it. She rose another few inches, then took him inside her mouth.
He wanted to pump.
He wanted to scream.
He wanted to flip her over and drop every bit of what he had inside of her.
Yet, he had no control. All he could do was grip the grass in his palms, grit his teeth and enjoy the slick warmth of her mouth.
Her hands worked as much as her tongue, cupping, massaging his balls as she damned near vacuumed his dick.
He tried naming stars.
Naming presidents.
Naming shahs and kings and emperors of the past. Nothing helped. His hold on reality started to slip and he worried that his cum might erupt before she pulled away.
Then he imagined it.
His cum.
Her mouth.
Her throat.
Painted by him.
It was too much. “Cassia!”
He pumped into her, letting lose the delicious tension. She gagged, but didn’t pull away, not until he was finished. Then she shimmied up his body. When his eyes fluttered open, she looked down, smiling above him...
With a milky trail running down the side of her mouth.
If he ever caught his breath again, he’d tell her. For now, he was content to just look at it.
Unfortunately...fortunately...both...the view didn’t last long. Cassia wiped it away with the back of her hand. “For future reference, I get to decide if we don’t work out. Not you. Understood?”
He mumbled out something that she must have found acceptable. Cassia kissed his cheek, turned and poured herself a glass of wine. Half of it made it to her mouth. The rest cascaded down her breasts.
The small part of him still capable of rational thought wondered where the energy came from. The rest didn’t care. He shot up, grabbed her and set to the task of lapping up the wine.
She damn near purred as he worked, then switched to moaning when he sucked a nipple through the fabric. A light bite led to a few grunted words.
A harder bite caused a few screamed words.
A pinch dropped her back down to grunts.
A pull and a twist led to a litany of impressively filthy words. He’d grown hard again, but having just cum, maybe...maybe he could make it.
Assuming, of course, he still knew how to use it after all these years. He sure as hell was willing to find out. Flipping her over didn’t work. Cassia, perfect, marvelous Cassia, wasn’t having it. “Sorry. I thought—”
“You can have your turn next time. This is all about me.”
This was being pushed on his back yet again. This was being saddled and ridden like a rented stallion. This was about Cassia, on her terms, taking what she wanted. The walls of her pussy closed in around his rod, tight and burning, but she chose the tempo. Slow. Steady. He could almost time her pulses, but gave up, settling in for the ride.
She’d done this. Without knowing what he needed, she’d worshipped him with her mouth, giving him the strength to pleasure her like this. Along with love, his hamdullah brought the one other thing he’d not had in an age. Confidence.
“Stop it.”
“What?”
“Thinking. I’m here. You’re inside me. What could you possibly be thinking about?”
“You.” It was the last sensible thing either of them said for a very long time. He flipped her over, grabbed her by the ass and rammed his way home until they collapsed into grinning, gasping lumps.
Chapter Eight
Clanging plates woke him up. Tired but happy, he blinked against the light to see a half-dressed Cassia gathering up the widgets and bobbles of their picnic.
“Didn’t mean to wake you.”
“Let me help.”
He kissed her before touching a single utensil and nipped at an ear or shoulder every few seconds thereafter. This was his right and he’d exercise it. With new confidence, came new determination.
She knew the whole of what they had and that she could leave at any moment. The sole purpose of his existence evolved into making sure that would never happen. To hell with wining and dining. He’d make love to her until she physically couldn’t walk away. He’d bathe her in jewels. He’d hold her in his lamp if it came to that.
“Is that regret on your face, Faruq? It’s all scrunched up.”
“That’s resolve. I’m figuring out a way to keep you where I want you.”
“Does it involve handcuffs or chocolate?”
“For the sake of argument, let’s say both.”
“No argument here. This could be the start of something good.”
He nodded, but pulled her close, needing to ask a single question. “About the future—”
“Every second is a blessing and we aren’t promised the next one. We’ll take this, whatever it is, one day at a time. I’m here. You’re here. That’s all I can give you right now.”
“That won’t stop me trying to keep you.”
“I know.” She sighed and picked up a container of dressing. “I also know that these dishes won’t clean themselves. Back to work.”
A wish or the simplest of spells would have cleared the mess in an instant. But he enjoyed every second with her, even work. He didn’t mind that it took longer than usual as every step of the process had to be punctuated with a kiss or wink.
Somehow, they made it inside before sunset and he had a very good idea of what would be on the menu for dessert. While she loaded the dishwasher, he dipped away to find the bathroom and clean himself up as discreetly as she’d done minutes earlier. He traced the wainscoting of the old mansion, stopping along the way to look at sepia photographs and painted oil portraits that lined the hall. Each face carried the high cheekbones and long necks that the Authement sisters shared.
The setting sun glinted off of something at the end of the corridor, a keyhole, set in the wall. He fingered the thing and got zapped with an unpleasant burst of energy. Not good. He did it again and the same thing happened. How had she lived here with this oddity in the house?
After coming out the bathroom, he went past it and shook his head. “Cassia? Got a minute?”
“Is that code for something?”
“I’m being serious,” he yelled back. “What’s this keyhole lead too?”
He could almost hear her shrugging from several rooms away. “Don’t know. It was...hold on.” Her footfalls echoed through the hall as she approached. “It was here when I moved in. Grandma always said that this aunt dabbled in the dark stuff. She’d turn over in her grave if she knew I was living here.”
“And how long have you been here again?”
“Oh relax. This house has been blessed and cleansed twice. It’s fine. I mean, I almost never use this bathroom, but I’d have noticed if something was up.”
“You’re not concerned about a key slot in the middle of a wall? It feels stronger than when I first passed it. I want to look away from it, but something deeper tells me not to. You’ve never experienced this sensation?”
“I never come down here.”
“That doesn’t make it okay and it only reinforces my point. What about the tripping and falling you mentioned in the car? That’s new too, isn’t it?”
“Now you’re reaching. I told you, this whole place has been purified. Nothing bad is going to happen. In fact, life’s looking pretty good at the moment.”
