by Alyssa Cole
“Quite an interesting flower you’ve found,” a deep, melodic voice said from nearby. Callie didn’t jump; she already knew who it was.
“Do you know what kind it is?” she asked. She stood and looked up into the singer’s amber eyes. He had been devastatingly gorgeous when seen from across a crowded space, but only inches away in a secluded area he was breathtaking. She felt the smile spread slowly across her face and wondered if her eyes betrayed the sharp spike of lust caused by his proximity.
“I do, actually. Do you know what soma is?” he asked. Even his speaking voice was rich and musical, nearly making her lightheaded.
“Soma? The nectar of the gods,” she said, enjoying the way his lips quirked at her response.
“Very good,” he said, keeping his gaze on her as he ran his fingertips gently over the yellow petals, stroking them delicately. “This flower is an ancient species, and some say that it’s one of the main ingredients in soma. People have tried to figure out the formula for ages but, unlike you, most people overlooked this beautiful plant. It’s sad how often precious things are ignored.”
Callie couldn’t stop staring at the way his finger gently smoothed over the flower petals as he spoke, the rich darkness of his skin highlighted against the yellow. His strokes were soft, but confident, and she knew that if he touched her in the same way, she would be done for.
She took another step toward the singer. He was so close now that she could feel the heat of him on her bare arms and stomach, warming skin that was already flush with arousal. Somewhere in the recesses of her brain, her rational mind was demanding to know what the hell she was doing. But this stranger had short-circuited her inhibitions, and Callie’s libido was now on autopilot.
“How do you know this?” she asked, her voice strong despite the weakness she felt in her knees.
“Oh, it’s a family secret,” he said softly, the corners of his mouth rising at some private joke. “Would you like a taste?”
Callie couldn’t even hope to contain the tremor of pleasure that passed through her body. She nodded eagerly.
He closed his eyes and slowly drew his finger along one of the newly opened buds. Callie watched in amazement as the petals fluttered wildly and then went limp under his touch. When he moved his finger away, a single perfect bead of liquid was suspended from the tip.
“Open for me,” he commanded, reaching toward her. Callie obeyed, unthinking.
His finger slid into her mouth and her lips closed around it, her tongue lapping at the pad, feeling its whorls against her taste buds. The pearl of liquid broke over her tongue, its flavor spicy and sweet and intoxicating. She sucked harder, trying to lap up every last bit of the delicious taste.
The gandharva groaned and slid his finger from her mouth, gently cupping her face in his hand.
“What is your name, jaan?” he asked, his gaze roaming over her features with the intensity of a composer studying sheet music. She should have been thrown off by his use of jaan, which roughly meant my love, but it thrilled her instead.
“Callie,” she whispered, her voice shy, as if the taste of his skin mixed with nectar weren’t fresh in her mouth.
“Callie,” he repeated slowly, the “a” long and the “l” soft and familiar. “There is a goddess with that name, you know.”
She nodded, regretting the motion because it moved her face away from the warmth of his hand.
“The destroyer,” she said softly.
He laughed, and she felt the vibrations rumble through her chest, making her heart skip a beat.
“She’s not as bad as all that,” he said. “Sometimes things must be destroyed before they can be rebuilt, yes?”
She simply stared at him and nodded, the situation becoming more surreal by the second. How was it possible that she, goody two shoes Callie, was alone with a beautiful man speaking of soma and gods as he seduced her?
“You’re a goddess,” he said reverently, “but I don’t think you’ve been treated as such lately. Can I worship you, Callie?”
She was confused, but everything about his question—the tone, the heat in his gaze, the undertone of deference—thrilled her.
She nodded again.
The gandharva snaked his arm around her waist and pulled her forward, closing the scant few inches between them. Callie stood on tip toe and nuzzled against his neck, inhaling his scent—floral spice and sandalwood.
“You smell so good,” she said, her voice husky and almost unfamiliar to her ears. She sounded…sensual.
She liked it.
The singer smiled down at her, a smile that telegraphed a message directly from his lips to her sex without any physical contact. She shivered at the naughty thoughts the simple quirk of his mouth produced in her.
“Would you like to see if I taste good, too?” he asked, his voice low and inviting.
Callie didn’t bother to answer before leaning up into his mouth, her lips slightly parted as they pressed against his. He didn’t respond at first, letting her explore his soft lips with her own. She pressed small, hard kisses at first, and then softer, lingering ones that outlined the shape of his mouth, the indentation below his nose. His hands stroked up along the exposed skin of her back, supporting her weight as her tongue darted out to taste the smooth line of his jaw.
He drew in a sharp breath, and Callie felt a delicate tremor shake his tall, muscled body.
I’m causing this, she thought, her body growing even warmer. Intrigued, she became more demanding, licking up into his mouth, running her tongue over lips, teeth, and palate to see what response she could evoke.
His hands gripped her around the waist, hard, and, a split second later the tables had been turned. His once compliant mouth was now dominating, rubbing back and forth against her lips in a way that shot tendrils of pleasure from her mouth down to her core. She was paralyzed by pleasure from this simple motion. When his tongue darted out to lap at her lips, the tendrils blossomed into full blown desire.
She trembled against him as he held her; his tongue tracing the sensitive skin of her lips for a few moments was somehow more erotic than anything she had ever experienced. Her nipples tightened into hardened peaks beneath her choli, and the evidence of her lust pooled between her legs and threatened to slip down her thighs. She had never been this wet before, this ready.
“I’m so—” she started to speak against his lips, but then his mouth closed over hers, and all of her attention was focused the feel of his tongue against her skin. Her lips prickled under the textured caress, and the teasing warmth made her pussy ache for the same attention.
Her skin suddenly seemed one size too small as every nerve ending contracted with excitement. Her arms were wrapped around him tightly, palms pressing into his back as if they could somehow force him closer to her. As it was, she could feel the outline of his strong thighs, his flat abdomen, and the decidedly not-flat cock that lay heavy against her tummy, poking at the bare skin of her abdomen.
She tried to lift a leg, moving instinctively to wrap it around his thigh, but it got caught up in the long skirt of her sari.
“Perhaps this should be placed where it won’t get grass stains,” he suggested, as his hand slid up her left arm and tentatively tugged at the material draped over her shoulder, indicating his desire but waiting for her approval.
Callie looked at him through eyes hooded with passion and nodded.
He smiled, and the hand that rested at her shoulder slid under the draped material and slowly worked at the pin holding it in place. Something in the flicker of his amber eyes let Callie know that he could have her naked in a flash if he wanted to, but he was choosing to draw the moment out, to luxuriate in it and her reaction to it.
He released the catch of the pin and slowly pulled the fabric over her shoulder. She could feel the friction of the embroidered scarf rubbing against the silken material of the blouse, the sensation somehow just as arousing as if he were trailing it across her bare skin. Her inner walls clenched
in anticipation and the singer chuckled softly at the same time, making her wonder if he was some kind of pussy whisperer, attuned to her every reaction.
The exquisite friction stopped suddenly, and she released a breath she hadn’t known she held. The singer now held the length of fabric in a strong, sexy hand. He folded it down between them, the tips of his fingers skimming over her exposed abdomen before moving to untuck the pleats at her waist. Callie’s stomach flexed at his gentle touch and her breath quickened. An odd inverse reaction was taking place: the more clothing he removed, the warmer she became.
He circled her as he worked, humming a simple but entrancing melody as he folded the fabric of the skirt with the deft movements of an expert.
“You’ve obviously removed a sari or two in your time,” she said, feeling bold, although not bold enough to let him know that his skill was a huge turn-on.
“Oh, yes,” he said as he moved behind her, his breath tickling sensitive skin as he spoke close to her ear. “I’ve had quite a lot of practice. I think you’ll find that to your advantage, Callie-jaan.”
Callie thought about the effect his voice alone had wrought on her and decided to keep any comebacks she might have made to herself.
After he carefully placed her folded sari near the edge of the clearing, he made quick work of the choli and underskirt, just as Callie remembered what she wore underneath.
“Wait!” she yelped, wanting to sink into the ground at the thought of the amazingly sexy man standing before her checking out her certified granny panties. She knew it was ridiculous, but David had always made her feel so ashamed of wearing anything less than perfect frilly underthings. The thought of anyone seeing her undergarments at the wedding had seemed highly unlikely as she’d dressed for the ceremony, and she’d forgone the lacey frippery.
The singer chuckled and relieved her of the underwear before she had time to wallow in embarrassment. The warm air against her bare skin thrilled her, as did his quick intake of breath as his eyes roamed over the curves of her naked body. Was it possible that he was so in awe of her, even now?
“You’re embarrassed,” he said, shaking his head as if this were a travesty.
His hands, calloused from years of strumming a sitar, skimmed down her bare breasts, gently testing their weight before traveling down her torso and over her ass, cupping her cheeks, and pulling her against him. She rested her hands against his shoulders and took in the feel of him. The linen of his suit against her skin felt sinfully good, as did hard heat of his cock pulsing against her stomach, forcing her to acknowledge its rhythm and regulating her desire like a metronome.
“A little,” she replied, but that was a lie. Her shame was already forgotten, burned away by the heat of his touch.
“Do you think an article of clothing would distract me from the curves of your hips, from the inviting softness of your belly?” he asked, running his fingers up her back and down over her ass as he gazed at her through hooded lids. His nails scratched gently at her skin, tracing patterns that sent trilling eddies of delight throughout her body. “No, Callie. They were simply a barrier keeping me from getting at that place I know you want me to touch and taste. You do want me to, don’t you? Or am I overstepping?”
Callie stiffened, momentarily pulled from the fantasy by his question. He was right; she wanted him so badly that she fairly shook with need. But who was this man feeding her nectar and undressing her in the middle of her friend’s wedding? Who was she, allowing herself to be seduced by a stranger without even asking his name?
The Callie that everyone knew would never allow a strange man such liberties. In fact, that Callie would have run from the greenhouse as soon as he had appeared.
But this Callie was enjoying every second of the encounter, loving the way the singer pressed his nails into her skin just hard enough to cause the slightest pain but the exact right amount of pleasure.
Just then, he scratched at her back a little harder, and she looked up to find his depthless amber eyes watching her.
“Do you want me to stop?” he asked again, and now she saw the lust in his eyes, alluring and inviting. The new Callie smiled before reaching up and running her nails down the bronzed column of his neck.
“No,” she said. “I’ve just never done anything like this, or wanted anyone like this. Is this normal for you? Are there legions of sitar music groupies who fall into your lap wherever you perform?”
He laughed, his voice deep and resonant.
“I don’t dally with groupies, as you call them,” he said with a wry grin. “Only with those who need me. I could feel your desire calling to me through the crowd.”
Callie laughed incredulously, but the singer stopped smiling, his expression turning serious. He was beautiful when he smiled, but when he was stoic, the gandharva was a god.
“Did you hear me singing for you?” he asked. “Did you feel it?”
She didn’t know if it was the reminder of her nearly orgasmic response to the song, or if it was the way he looked at her as if she were the most exquisitely sensual woman on the planet, but her knees went weak as a wave of pleasure spread from her core to the tips of every digit.
“Come,” he said, his pleasure at her reaction quite apparent in his voice. He snaked one arm around her hips and led her a few steps to the tree in the center of the clearing, turning her so that she was facing it. He stood next to her and gently pressed her hands flat against its trunk, forcing her to bend slightly at the waist.
“Keep these here, jaan,” he said, covering her hands with one of his own and applying the slightest pressure. When she nodded in understanding, he cupped her chin with his other hand and tilted it upward, kissing her with a firm tenderness that belied the fact that she had just met him.
The kiss continued, but both of his hands moved to her breasts, teasing the nipples with the friction created by quick strokes of his palms. The sensation built slowly, following the rhythm of his hands as they increased and decreased in speed. His kisses swallowed Callie’s soft moans; she could feel his full lips smile against hers and he growled in response to her sounds of ecstasy. His pleasure at her response heightened her enjoyment. As the pressure built within her, her hands gripped the tree trunk and her hips worked themselves against the air, searching for stimulation, although the singer still stood beside her.
As if sensing her need, he slid one hand down her back and over her ass to cup her mound from behind.
“Mmm,” he drawled into her mouth as his fingers slid over her sensitive nub, slicking it with her own moisture. “Already so wet for me. I like that, Callie-jaan.”
Callie’s knees nearly buckled at the jolt of excitement that rocked her body. The only thing that kept her on her feet was her craving for more of the feeling. She ground her pussy against his questing fingers, reveling in the sensation. It had been so long since she’d been touched, and never had she been touched like this.
His long, talented fingers strummed at her clit, and then caressed it with gentle strokes that sent shocks of pleasure from down low in her belly to her toes. His thumb circled the puckered rim of her asshole, the sensation new and utterly riveting. She let out a long, shuddering moan into his mouth, the way he worked both her clit and her ass combining to undo her.
His other hand was still busy at her sensitive breasts, pinching at her nipples before soothing them with his palm.
He pulled his mouth away from hers, planting feather-light kisses along her neck and down her back as he moved, coming to a stop behind her. He dropped to his knees and slid his arms around her thighs, hands grasping at her waist to support her. He licked at her thighs, long luscious licks with that talented tongue of his.
She imagined what they must look like: her bent forward, naked, with her hands against the tree; the gandharva fully dressed, on his knees behind her with his mouth working its way ever so slowly toward her dripping pussy. It was incredibly erotic to imagine, but paled in comparison to the actual moment his tongue pa
rted her folds.
The singer began lapping at her clit, firmly and with great concentration, the strength and precision of his tongue a gift from the gods. Callie lost the ability to focus on anything but his mouth on her sensitive skin.
His tongue moved against her pussy as if he was serenading her with the oldest song man could sing to woman. It curved over her clit in long, slow strokes, and then changed tempo, lapping quickly, eagerly. Callie’s legs shook as he feasted, and she had to concentrate to keep from sinking to the ground. Her hands gripped the tree trunk so tightly that the ridges of the bark were being stamped onto her palms.
Her body became hypersensitive to his every movement, even responding to his breath. He released each one in soft exhalations through his nose, which had settled into the crevice of her ass. The warm air tickled her already stimulated asshole, heightening her pleasure, as she marveled at the numerous ways the human tongue could bend and twist.
The singer’s grip on her hips tightened with each ragged cry that was torn from her throat, the strength of his hands as they held her shuddering body in place turning her on even more. She was reveling in the unrelenting pressure of his tongue against her slit when the orgasm broke unexpectedly, bowing her back and forcing her nails into the tree bark. Her toes curled into the soft grass as wave after wave of pleasure broke across her body. Callie was so surprised that she couldn’t make a sound as she came, although her mouth was open in a silent scream of ecstasy.
“Holy. Wow.” The words came out in breathy pants.
Chapter Three
So that was what an orgasm felt like. No wonder Priya had been giving her pitying looks all these years.
The singer laughed as he stood, turning her in his arms and cradling her against his chest. Callie ran shaky fingers through his curls, smiling as they sprang back to their corkscrew form as soon as her fingers released the strands.
“That was…” she stopped, her throat unexpectedly clogged by emotion. She felt ridiculous, moved to tears by an orgasm.
