“You think we should just kill her?” Psyche asked in all seriousness, licking chocolate off her fingers.
“Well, we shouldn’t rule it out,” Eris mumbled.
Nineteen: Starting anew
Dinner, in her opinion, was the most delicious meal she’d had in a long time. The wine had been fantastic and was swirling quite effectively in her head. The night had fallen cool, but Brea didn’t notice much since she was snuggled up to Jordan as he drove the carriage. Brea giggled at the envious stares as they passed people on the street.
“How are you doing?” Jordan asked, seeming to look longingly as her lips.
“I’m fine, a little inebriated, but fine.” She smiled back at him. “So where does this chariot go once you get me home?” Brea blinked at her own words that had come with ease. Home. As if they lived together. Jordan seemed to stiffen at her words, then quickly relaxed.
“Back to its owner. I don’t think we have room for them in the condo.” He seemed to consider the issue seriously. Brea punched him playfully in the arm.
“Really, I didn’t know this city had a place you could rent a horse and carriage.”
“It’s not rented, more like borrowed. The place isn’t all that far for me.”
“You do know some pretty interesting people,” Brea responded. “Who owns a carriage just for the sake of owning one?” She frowned.
“I believe it has something to do with their occupation,” Jordan responded then changed the topic. “Are you tired?”
“Why?” Brea looked at Jordan carefully.
“Because I’d like this evening to continue with something special.”
“Does that something special involve me spreading my legs?” Brea asked with boldness, slightly annoyed that he thought she’d just hop into bed with him because they just made up. She would, of course. She’d wanted nothing more than to do that since he’d showed up at her office. The wine was quite the conspirator as it blasted through her common sense and insisted she act irrationally. Still he didn’t have to assume it.
He tsked her. He had the nerve to tsk her!
“Oh, Brea, there’s more to life than just sex. I’m surprised you keep your head in the gutter.” Brea laughed when she realized he was teasing her. “There’s no sex involved, to be clear there will be no penetration, but I hope you don’t object to other forms of play.”
The carriage stopped in front of the condo, and Brea was breathing like she’d just pulled the carriage. His words excited her and the wine—dammit!—made her resistance marshmallowy. “We’ll see,” she managed coyly as he’d already jumped down and out of the carriage and held his hand out gallantly to help her out of the carriage.
“I have to return these horses, so you have a small window in which to think about it. But regardless of what you decide I would still like to remain in your company this evening in any capacity.” Those gorgeous electric blue eyes looked sincerely into hers and Brea found herself ready to blurt out that she wanted to play with him tonight.
Jordan leaned over and kissed her on the forehead, then each check. He waited until he held her gaze before he kissed her on the mouth. So gently his tongue demanded entrance and she weakened. His hands, at the small of her back, pulled their bodies closer and Brea felt like she was kissing him for the first time all over again.
Too soon Jordan broke the kiss. “If I don’t go now, these horses won’t be returned. And I guarantee you, the sun won’t rise for the owner of these horses.” Jordan stepped back, putting distance between them. “Wait up for me.” It was more a question than a statement.
“We’ll see,” Brea laughed, walking to the condo.
Jordan waited until she disappeared on the other side of the door before he hopped back into the carriage. Mentally he checked to make sure the barrier was still in place at his condo. He couldn’t have anyone popping in while he was gone. He was sure Psyche was behind his sour luck and he wasn’t taking any more chances.
He went about a block before he hopped out and checked to make sure no one was around. Jumping back in, he said the command he knew that would make the horses spring toward Olympus. He became no more that a streak in the night sky.
“You were playing it awfully close, my friend,” Hermes drawled as Cupid locked the stable doors. “Apollo was on his way in here to check on them.”
“Pray tell, what distracted him?” Cupid grinned at his friend.
“Someone told Apollo there was this young musician who could outplay him.” Hermes said in innocence.
“I wonder who that could have been. What happened?”
“The young musician was good, but of course, Apollo played so hard the guitar caught on fire. He’s now enjoying the fruit of his labors with two very appreciative female fans.”
“Well, as usual I owe you, old friend.” Cupid laughed. There was no love lost between him and Apollo. If circumstances had been different he would have kept the horses just to annoy the arrogant god. “How’s Arachne? Any change?”
Hermes almost looked gentle when he spoke of Arachne. “Better, but not much. Don’t let her size fool you, she can eat a lot of ambrosia.” Hermes seemed to smile to himself. Jordan suspected he was becoming fond of the arachnid. “So far she’s been able to communicate one name—Psyche. Give her some time, I think we’ll have her partner in crime soon.” Hermes kept grinning.
“What now?”
“Well, I put the container back in the Big Guy’s closet, with a hologram of Arachne, we don’t need to tip our hand yet.”
“You know, that’s why you’re my friend and on my side. I would hate to have you working against me.” Jordan slapped his friend on the back. “As soon as Arachne gives you a name let me know.”
“Will do, Cupid,” Hermes replied.
She had no sexy lingerie. Just the fluffy bathrobe she’d just bought. Brea was frustrated. She wanted to feel sexy tonight in something slinky. Not parade around like a sheep. She blew a raspberry at herself in the mirror. She probably couldn’t even seduce a sheep in this getup.
Brea checked her makeup and hair once more before she left the bathroom. Jordan’s keys clicked in the door and her pulse quickened. He was back a lot sooner than she had anticipated. She looked about the bedroom and squealed at the mess of packages all over the bed.
“Brea?” Jordan called. “Is everything all right?”
“Oh, fine,” she called, knocking the bags to the floor and kicking them under the bed.
“I thought I heard you scream.” Jordan was right outside the door.
“I thought I saw…something. False alarm,” she called back, pushing a big bag under the bed.
“Can I come in?” Brea could hear his hand was already on the knob, the bag caved at last.
“Uh, yeah, sure.” She looked around furtively one last time.
Jordan stepped into the bedroom. His bow tie was gone, the first three buttons of his shirt were undone. Brea caught a peek of his muscled, tanned chest against the stark white of the shirt. In distraction, he pulled the leather band from his hair. His blond hair fell forward, giving him a wild, untamed look. Brea licked her lips. His eyes tracked the movement.
“Thank you for waiting up,” he said at last.
“You weren’t gone long.” Brea cleared her throat in nervousness. Now that the wine was wearing off, so was her sexual boldness.
“Good, a gentleman doesn’t keep a lady waiting,” he commented, undoing the buttons on his jacket. “Will you help me?” He put both of his arms in front of him, indicating that she should help with the sleeve buttons. Brea knew he could have taken them off blindfolded.
“Sure,” she replied, wiping her sweating hands on the plush robe. Of course it immediately reminded her of what she was wearing as opposed to what she wished she was wearing.
He stood statue-still while she undid the sleeves. She stepped in front of him, taking the jacket on each side and pushing it back until it slid off him and down his arms. Knowing what he expec
ted, she started at the fourth button and unbuttoned the shirt completely. Her hands shook from nervousness and doubt. She was playing with fire, he’d already hurt her once, and she couldn’t control the attraction she had to him.
Just like the jacket, she took the shirt off of him until it fell to the floor. He stood there looking absolutely gorgeous half-dressed. “Do you want to continue, or would you like me to do this myself?” He brushed the back of his hand across her cheek.
Brea said nothing as her hands went to his pants and undid first the clasp then the zipper. She took hold of the band of the pants and pushed them down, squatting as she neared his ankles, he’d already removed his shoes and socks. He obediently stepped out of the pants.
Brea, still squatting, looked up to see the silk black boxers he wore, with a very impressive arousal plumping them out. She stood, trying not to notice what was very, very obvious.
“I meant what I said, Brea, no sex tonight.”
Brea looked at him in surprise.
“This isn’t about just sex between you and me, Brea. I need to show you that.” He grabbed the end of the belt of her robe and pulled it slowly, giving Brea time to protest. She kept her eyes glued to the ties coming undone. When the tie was undone he parted the robe, displaying her body for his viewing feast.
Brea blushed as if she were some sort of virgin. But she knew him. Her body remembered Jordan well, and reacted strongly. He mimicked her behavior and slid the robe off her slender shoulders, until she stood naked before him. His eyes missed nothing.
“Before, when you and I were together I didn’t get a chance to just savor your beauty. Please, allow me,” he said low, staring at her.
His eyes took in everything, the soft swell of her stomach, to the well-toned legs. Her nipples were already peaked from his stare alone. He walked around her, quite comfortable in his nakedness. He ran gentle fingers across the firm swelling of her plump backside. “Your beauty is like insanity, driving men to desperate measures just to be with you,” he seemed to say to himself as he made his way back where he’d started.
“And you, Jordan?” Brea found her boldness returning at his words.
“That’s easy. I was lost the moment I set eyes on you,” he said frankly.
“You stand there and look at me as if you want to throw me down and devour me. Yet you say no sex tonight. What else is there?” she queried.
Brea had no idea she was with the god of desire. The one being in the world who knew everything about physical pleasure. For not only did he inspire desire, he was desire incarnate. She was now on his playground. Cupid grinned at her, his smile alone made her realize that there was so much about him that she didn’t know. He was the mold that bad boys were made from.
He pushed her back until she fell across the bed. “Better question, can you handle the ‘what else’?”
Twenty: Carte blanche
Cupid looked down at her. His whole body pulsed for her. He would be lying to himself if said he didn’t want to part those golden legs and slide between them. Pleasuring himself and her until oblivion sucked them up whole. But he had said there would be no sex between them this night and he meant it. Cupid reached down and retrieved the discarded bow tie from his pants pocket.
“Do you trust me, Brea?” he asked, smoothing the material slowly.
“No,” she said in all honesty, her hazel eyes honest and clear.
“Good, then let me earn it this night.” He leaned forward with one knee on the bed.
He motioned for her to sit up and he tied the material around her eyes, blindfolding her. “I won’t hurt you. Let me earn your trust by giving me permission to touch you at will.”
Cupid knew this was hard for her. Trust was a huge issue in her life. It had already been broken in his name and therefore he was asking a lot. However, they had to start somewhere. “If I do anything to make you uncomfortable or you just want me to stop, just say so,” he added, wanting her to know she controlled the situation. He watched her with deep intensity as she bit her lip in concentration.
“All right,” she said at last, leaning back on the bed.
Cupid straddled her across her hips, holding his own weight off her. Touch was a powerful thing, when executed properly. First, with just his fingertips, he touched her face as if he were a blind man. Memorizing every soft swell and every angle of her bone structure. He touched her softly, making the touch sensual, hypnotic.
Slowly, his hands moved down to her neck, hovering over the pulse that was beating a wild tattoo against her chest. He leaned over and placed the lightest of kisses over it. She jumped in surprise at the oral contact but settled down. He picked at random soft spots on her lightly perfumed neck and kissed her, inhaling her scent. Brea’s breath was becoming shallow.
“Relax, just enjoy. Nothing is expected of you,” he said into her ear then kissed the spot right under it. This time a small smile hovered at the corner or her lips. He shifted further down her body, tracing her collarbone. He ran his warm fingers up and down the length of one of her arms, only stopping long enough to switch arms. He could feel the tension draining out of her, but the sexual awareness building.
Cupid then came to her breasts, and took a moment to take in their beauty first. He molded one hand around one breast and leaned down and licked it once, then twice. Brea moaned out loud when he tweaked the nipple between his fingers. When he became satisfied he couldn’t arouse that breast any more he concentrated on the other one, assaulting it just like the other without remorse.
He was pleased to see Brea’s hands fisted in the covers as she struggled to maintain her self-control. She was fighting a battle already lost. He shifted again so that now he could place light kisses down her belly, nibbling at her taut stomach on the way down. Briefly he brushed his face against the soft curls that nested above the apex of her thighs, reveling in and remembering the scent that was Brea.
She moaned louder, her head thrashed in sweet torture. Cupid ignored the enticing juncture beneath the soft curls and simply bit into her inner thigh, eliciting a squeal of surprise, as he looked up and watched her face. She smiled, forgetting it was only she who was blindfolded.
Cupid traveled the length of her legs until he came to her feet. Taking them both in his hands, he kissed the center on the bottom of each foot. She wriggled and laughed, but her breath hitched, a sure sign that even here she was sensitive. He licked each delicate outer ankle and this time she shivered.
She, however, wasn’t the only one in sweet torture. Her scent of arousal filled the bedroom and he knew without touching that she was saturated with her own cream between her legs. He knew if he just pulled her legs apart he would see the glossy lips of her sex taunting him. Instead he began to travel up her body, making sure to rub sensuously against her. Brea’s arms wrapped around him tightly.
He lay on his side, one of her arms trapped underneath him, but not pinned. He took one leg and slid it between hers. His free hand crept to the center of her thighs. He hissed low at the moist heat he found there. Briefly he paused trying to control the image he had of himself feeling her warm moist heat surrounding his cock. After taking a deep breath, he began to rub her aroused clitoris.
Immediately her hips pushed forth, encouraging his hand deeper, but there would be no penetration of any sort. He just rubbed her with the skill of centuries. Knowing when she was about to climax, he would level off just to bring her to the brink of frenzy again. He wanted her to want him, not just the feeling of completion. She had to want it from him personally. He kept up the torture. She gritted her teeth in frustration.
“Please—…” she stammered out between breaths.
“Please what?” he asked low in her ear, as if he had no idea what she wanted.
“End this…” she answered in frustration, her hips frantically moving, trying to force his hand into finishing what he so skillfully started.
“You’re going to have to be clearer than that,” he teased as he bit her ear lig
htly.
“Let me…let me…come,” she got out at last.
“I understand what you want…” he paused dramatically, as if there was still some confusion. “But I’m not clear on who you’re talking to. Who you are asking.” He continued to stroke her sensuously, slowly. She had no idea how lucky she was that he couldn’t use any of his abilities on her. She would be but a puddle next to him.
“You know damn well—”
“I haven’t a clue,” he finished for her, sweeping her mouth into a kiss. He edged even closer to her, letting his body slide against her erotically as he kissed her, touched her, brought her to the brink of sexual insanity. He broke the kiss, his chest heaving from his irregular breathing. He began to wonder who would crack first.
“Jordan, please. Bring me. Let me come,” she said at last. Cupid removed the blindfold so that he could see her desire-laden eyes.
It was a bittersweet victory. For Cupid, as promised, brought her to the peak of pleasure—twice. She jerked violently against him as she came. He held her close, feeding off her vicariously as she reached satisfaction. It was sheer joy bringing her to such passionate climaxes, however it was dampened by the fact that she had called him Jordan. The only name she knew, but he wanted to hear his given name, falling from her sweet lips. Curiously enough he would give anything to have her scream at the top of her lungs—Cupid!
During the night, Cupid pleased Brea continuously until she half-heartedly begged him to stop. He refused his own release. It was about Brea. He needed her to understand that his attention was focused totally on her. By the time he allowed her to sleep, she lay curled against him, her forehead to his chest as she slept soundly.
It was the first time Cupid had been so selfless. It felt good to please her. The hard-on was painful, but the way she made him feel when she reacted to him upstaged the discomfort. He held her, inhaling the scent of her hair. Imprinting everything about her onto his immortal mind.
Utter Cupidity Page 14
