Black Aura

by Jaycee Clark

  She cradled him between her thighs. He reached down, parted her, and gritted his teeth as he trembled. Her wetness coated his fingers and he rimmed her slick passage once, twice before he couldn’t take it anymore.

  He guided himself to her opening.

  Her eyes closed.

  “No. Look at me.” Her heat closed over him, gripping him like a fist.

  Her eyes locked with his and he couldn’t look away as he slowly sank inch by inch into her.

  “Yes.” She shuddered on a moan and leaned her head back, giving him her neck.

  “You feel so damned good.”

  “Max.”

  He was lost. Lost in a sensation of her. He kissed her, her mouth hot and demanding on his. Her legs came up around him, her heels locking into the small of his back.

  He pulled almost all the way out, then sank slowly back in.

  She moaned and moved with him, against him, urging him on. Their lovemaking deepened. He had no idea when it happened, but he sensed it all the way to the very center of him.

  Some part of her mixed with some part of him, and not just down where they joined. He opened his eyes to see her watching him. Colors danced around them, through them, on them.

  Max bit down and stroked her faster. Deeper. Harder.

  He felt her trembling, knew she was almost there.

  Heat built low in his back, tightened his balls.

  “Max! Max!”

  “That’s it. Now, Lake.”

  Her inner muscles squeezed around him, jerking him headlong into the hardest orgasm of his life. Stars exploded behind his eyelids, as she bowed up in his arms, she yelled his name.

  All he could feel was Lake.

  All he could hear was Lake.

  All there was for him, was Lake.

  11

  Max lay there. He was breathing—at least he thought he was.

  “Are we alive?”

  “No.” Her neck was warm. He nuzzled the soft skin and grinned when she squirmed. “Another soft spot.”

  Unfortunately he had no energy left to do anything about it.

  Her legs slid off his back. They lay half on the chaise lounge. Cursing, he went ahead and pulled them both to the floor. The paints lay to the side and the goblet tipped over and spread a puddle of water across the drop cloth.

  He didn’t really care.

  “Colors,” she muttered, kissing his jaw. “I saw the rainbow.”

  He grinned and turned so that she was lying tucked to his side. “The rainbow?”

  “Mmm. All the colors. Yours. Mine. Mixing. Melding.”

  He hadn’t imagined it then. He tried to catch his breath. “Melding. I remember something like us melding.”

  She snorted, cuddling against him.

  He closed his eyes and rubbed her arm, dry paint crackling and flaking off under his fingers. Grinning, he leaned up on his elbow and looked down at her.

  Purple paint patterns swirled up her arms, across her breasts to ring her nipples.

  She opened her eyes and glanced down at herself. “Finger painting has taken on a whole new meaning.”

  “Has it?”

  She glanced at him from under her lashes. He traced her pale red brows, perfectly arched, and realized she had freckles across her skin.

  “Freckles. I’ve always had a soft spot for freckles.” He leaned over and kissed her shoulder.

  “Will this paint come off?”

  He laughed. “It’s not henna, or stain.”

  Her brows rose.

  “Yes. It will come off.”

  “One of these days I get to paint you.”

  He traced the line of her nose, then leaned over and kissed the bridge. “Promise?”

  “With green finger paint.” She nipped his lip and squirmed out from under him. “Then you can look like a leprechaun.”

  He sat up, since she obviously was full of energy. She stood in the sunlight and stretched. He loved simply watching her, the way she moved, the grace, the ease. Hell, the way the sunlight burned in her hair.

  “Beautiful,” he whispered, sitting up. There wasn’t a shy bone in her body. Thank you.

  She tossed her long red hair over her shoulder and looked at him. “You just want me again.”

  He laughed and pulled himself to his feet. “Mmmm.”

  She picked at the paint, winced. “Shower?”

  He tugged her to him and kissed her. “No. I’ve a better idea.”

  She leaned into him and kissed him back, her naked body fitting perfectly with his. “You’re just full of ideas, aren’t you?” She nibbled his lip. “It doesn’t have anything to do with paint does it?”

  “Hmm. It could.” He led her down the hallway to the living apartments.

  She slowed. “You know, we probably shouldn’t be traipsing about naked.”

  “Don’t worry. Alyssa went to Santa Fe to shop. So we can currently traipse, naked or otherwise.” He glanced at her as he led her back to his bedroom and into the master bath. “Naked is my choice. Naked is beautiful.”

  “So says a guy with a perfect body.”

  He grinned. “You like my body?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Like you couldn’t tell?”

  She liked his body. “I guess flexing my muscles would not win me any points?”

  Her smile made him think of all the things he really wanted to do to—and with—her mouth.

  “That,” she said, running her hand over his chest, down to his groin to grip him, “would depend on which muscles you want to flex.”

  He sucked in a breath but pushed her hand away.

  She glanced around at his dark tiled bathroom. “Ohhhh, I want your shower.” The shower was free standing in the corner of the bathroom. Three jets came out at various points. He turned her instead to the deep Jacuzzi tub in the opposite corner.

  “But I want you in the Jacuzzi.”

  She laughed and leaned back against him. “That works too.”

  He turned on the tub and they played, laughing and exploring while the water steamed up the room.

  The thought that she belonged here, with him, in this house, flirted unbidden into his mind.

  “I wonder if the colors will come back,” she murmured, her skin all but glowing.

  “I don’t know,” he stood behind her, running his hands over her fantastic body, all curves and valleys. She squirmed.

  “You are so damned sexy,” he whispered, gently moving her hair aside to kiss the nape of her neck.

  “You’re more athletic than I am.”

  “What?” he pulled back.

  “Nothing.”

  He walked them to the mirror.

  She blinked and then laughed. “I look like a deranged artist played with me.”

  Her laughter danced over him as he cupped her luscious breasts. “So he did, but you know what I see?”

  “A masterpiece?” she quipped, shoving a long red strand of hair out of her way.

  “And then some.”

  “I was joking.”

  He met her gaze in the mirror. “I’m not. You’re beautiful. Exquisite. A real woman.”

  She arched a brow at him. “If that’s what you see, I won’t shatter your illusions.”

  “You don’t think you’re beautiful?” he asked. He’d just have to show her otherwise, but then he liked goals.

  She sighed, narrowed her gaze. “Oh, I know I’m beautiful and I’ve used that knowledge. But I also know that my body is not what appeals to every man.” She turned one way and then the other looking in the mirror. “A little too…too…” She scrunched up her nose. “Un-toned.”

  “Un-toned? That’s not a word.”

  “In my beautiful world it is.”

  “You’re perfect.” His arms tightened around her. “And thank God you don’t appeal to every man. I don’t want every man lusting after you. I’d go out of my mind then.”

  She laughed and turned in his arms. “Out of your mind? And why is that?”

  �
�Oh, well, I guess I’m turning out to be the jealous type.”

  Her hands kept moving over him, her nails softly scraping over his skin. “I never really liked the jealous type before.”

  “New things for the both of us, my Viking goddess.”

  She snorted and kissed him. “Delusional and jealous,” she whispered against his mouth. “Those can be seen as not very healthy qualities.”

  He seduced her mouth with his lips, her body with his hands. “That’s okay. I’ve got therapy.”

  “Really?” she asked, arching against him.

  “Yep. Creative.” He cupped her bottom, trailing his fingers lower until he parted her, the warmth of her desire coating his fingers. She shuddered as he traced her. “And physically active.”

  She laughed and pulled him over to the tub. He picked up the remote and clicked the jets on, another button and music filled the room. She twisted her hair up, and looked around his bathroom, finally picking up a couple of paintbrushes that she found standing in an empty vase beneath the mirror. She shoved them into the mass of hair to keep it up on her head.

  She climbed in first, but when he started to slide into the water, she stopped him and pushed him onto the wide tiled lip that circled the inset tub.

  Her eyes twinkled with amusement and darkened with passion. “Therapy is important.” She leaned over and kissed him, moving down to bite on his neck. “We wouldn’t want you to have any negative issues arise because you didn’t get enough…” She met his gaze as she lowered herself into the water and moved between his thighs.

  “Enough?” he asked, though not really following the conversation. “Oh, therapy.”

  He ran his fingers over her hair, cupping her cheek, his thumb moving back and forth over her plump bottom lip.

  She kissed his thigh, then licked, kissed, and nibbled a trail right to where he wanted her. Her eyes never left his and he gripped the edge of the tub to keep from grabbing her.

  Her hands stole his breath as she grazed up and down his shaft with her nails, then her lips, until finally, finally, she put her mouth on him. He wanted to watch her, but his eyes slid closed on the exquisite feeling of her hot wet mouth moving on him, around him. When her lips closed over the head of his cock, he hissed. The twirl of her tongue pulled a moan from him. But then she started to move, to suck, and he lost all train of thought. Her hands…wicked. He couldn’t follow her movements, her hands, her mouth. It all rolled together to rip a growl from him, until he gripped her head between his hands.

  She let him go with a pop. “Nuh-huh. It’s your turn. No touching. Keep your hands on the edge.”

  He frowned at her.

  One russet brow rose. “Would you like me to get out and go find a scarf?” Her eyes looked towards his closet. “Though I’m sure a tie would work too.”

  Taking a deep breath, he sucked air into his burning lungs and fisted his hands on the edge of the tile. The water swirled around them. Steam rose to slick her skin with a light sheen of moisture.

  He wanted to lick it all off her.

  Instead he focused on those gorgeous breasts of hers bobbing in the water.

  She moved again, closer to him, nestling between his legs.

  He closed his eyes and then opened them, watching as she moved closer and closer, but never touching.

  “Don’t tease,” he told her.

  “Or?”

  This time he grinned. “Oh, you’ll find out.”

  For a long minute she held his gaze, then whispered against him. “I’ll try that another time. Right now, what I want is right here.”

  Max could do nothing other than watch as her mouth closed over him. This time there was no teasing, no easing nibbles or kisses to build up…

  She sucked him deep and he groaned, his hips lifting of their own volition.

  “Lake,” he growled.

  She didn’t stop, didn’t slow, but sucked him harder, deeper, her hands busy at the base of his shaft and balls.

  He tried to hold on, to make it last, but hell, he’d been fantasizing about that mouth of hers for months.

  Max wanted inside her. Now. But he couldn’t. He should…

  Her hands did something and her mouth did something else and he was fucking lost.

  His release tore through him. He bowed up, shouting. Vaguely, he realized she was still moving on him, her mouth milking every last drop from him, her hands on his hips.

  He dropped his head to his chest and gripped her head. Holding her stare, he jerked the brushes free, smiling as her hair rioted around her shoulders, the ends floating in the water. He ran his fingers through the silky red tresses.

  Finally, she let him go, licking the last of his passion from him.

  Her smile pulled at his gut and he wanted her again. “I can’t feel my fingers. Or my feet. Or hell,” he sighed, sliding down into the water, “even my head.”

  She twirled a finger around the head of his cock.

  “Not that head.”

  Laughing, she moved to sit beside him, but he didn’t let her. Instead, he pulled her astride him and jerked her to him for a kiss.

  “I’m going to have you so hot, so ready, you’ll beg me,” he warned her. “And then, I’ll make you beg me more.”

  “Promises, promises.” She moved her head to the side as he kissed down her neck, cupping her breasts.

  “You better damned well believe it.”

  12

  Alyssa sat at a table near the back of the coffee shop, brochures and books scattered around her. It was late afternoon, the sun already sinking low in the sky. She’d been back from Santa Fe for only half an hour but had the feeling she just shouldn’t go home yet. Not quite yet. She glanced across the street and noticed colors still danced out of the windows of the loft apartment.

  She smiled. About time Dad and Lake got on with it.

  Shaking off the thoughts, she focused back on her current project—college. College? What to do? Where to go? Which direction to head? She really hated decisions like this. How the hell was she supposed to know what she wanted to do with the rest of her life?

  For now, she was happy she was figuring out the here and now, forget the forever future, which really wasn’t forever anyway, was it?

  The now was more important to her than the future that may or may not happen. Life could end very quickly. So for the now? Now she’d rather be reading one of the new books in her bag she’d purchased in Santa Fe. Books on shielding and proper health for psychics. Not that she’d start eating tofu. Tofu was, in her opinion, gross. Yogurt she could handle. Greens and alfalfa sprouts, fine. Fish and grilled veggies—yeah. Tofu, no. So the chapter on no meats was going to be a waste. Plus she’d seen the way Lake ate and Alyssa would bet that woman didn’t read books on the proper diet of a psychic. Who did these people think they were anyway?

  And who was dumber, the author thinking she had so much important information to impart, or the idiot who bought the book? Still, there might be something good in here. If nothing else than the chapter on the importance of sleep patterns and protecting herself when she could be vulnerable. Things stole into the psyche when one was vulnerable. Nightmares were a perfect example. And things waited for vulnerability in sleep. It was classic, and for her, a time to worry about.

  Sleep. Shields. Vulnerability. Nightmares. Visions.

  Hell. She rubbed her face.

  Last night had been a bad one. She’d dreamed the monster with the red daggers was choking her and nothing she could do would stop it. Then she’d heard Lake’s voice and her dad’s, and something had burst inside her and the dark monster with the red eyes suddenly vanished. Not sure what the hell it meant, but then she was stressed about the darkness she couldn’t find.

  This was why so many people thought she was certifiable. Looking for something she couldn’t find? Darkness?

  But she knew it was real. There was no doubt in her mind about that any more. In the last few weeks she’d come to believe. Really believe. She wa
s real. Her gift was real. The lurking evil she couldn’t readily see, that was real. Why couldn’t she readily see it? Propping her chin on her hand, she stared at the stuff on the table and wondered when exactly she’d started to accept herself the way she was. There wasn’t any one moment, she realized. It had just sorta started to happen and kept happening.

  “Whatchya working on back here?” Mark asked, sliding into the chair across from her. He picked up the book and grinned. “The Healthy Psychic?”

  Instead of answering, she jerked it away.

  “You never cease to amaze, Lys.”

  “Then I’m on track.”

  Shaking his head, he picked up a brochure on the graphic arts program from the Art Institute of Dallas. “I thought you were going to take classes here in Taos?” He flipped through it.

  “Well, I’m leaving my options open. I probably will do just that, but does that mean I can’t also take some online courses that might help me out in the long run? I thought I’d take the web graphics program here to get a more hands-on experience with the scripting that’s so important now. I don’t understand Java or even Flash and I want to. Plus here I can get experience with Quark and a few other programs, right?”

  Mark leaned onto his fist and nodded. “Yeah, you can do all that here. And it is nice to have a professor or a lab partner to help you out if you don’t understand what is going on.”

  She tapped the red and white brochure. “But I want to take the advanced digital graphics courses through them. I’m hoping to get into the summer program here and either the fall or the next winter session with the Art Institute Online thing. I figure I can use the graphics design part, but I want to know the website stuff inside and out. Because there are good websites out there and those that, well…”

  “Suck,” Mark said, grinning at her.

  She smiled back. “Yeah, and if not for you, I probably wouldn’t have thought of all this. But now that I’ve played with it, I like it and think it’s probably something that I’d want to do, ya know?”

  “Versus what else you might like to do?”

  “Well, there isn’t anything else I’d like to do. I’ve always loved art.”