Mind (Trinity Trilogy Book 2)

by Audrey Carlan

  Finally, I’m able to take a breath and really appreciate the view. The bottom of the staircase starts with a flurry of oceanic themes from little fish to swirling waves all in small colored pieces. The ocean waves seem to go half way up the flight of stairs until it reaches tiles that are rich browns and oranges speckled with flowers and woodland creatures. Up further reflects a sky with birds, and an array of flying insects all in aqua and pale blue hued tiles. Continuing on is the moon Chase loves. A giant white swooping circle made of glistening whites and grey pieces surrounded by a dark indigo and midnight blue. At the very tip top of the stairs seems to be a bright sunburst depicting a giant sun. I’m pretty certain I’ve never seen anything more heart-stopping aside from the man holding me up while I feast on this local art.

  “Shall we walk it?” Chase clasps my hand as I nod, still unable to speak. We take each step and every so often, I lean down and run my finger along a tile. Chase doesn’t let go of my hand, just crouches low to see what has caught my attention. We continue on, and finally, when we’re in between the moon and sun, Chase sits me down. He goes down about ten or fifteen steps and pulls out his phone. “Give me one your smiles, beautiful.” I don’t even have to try. Sitting here at a place I’ve never been with the man who clearly wanted to share such beauty with me, I couldn’t hold back a giant grin. He snaps a couple of photos. I pull out my own phone and gesture to him to sit next to me. A lone kid with a mowhawk tinged in bright pink and a leather jacket walks to the side of us trying to pass.

  “Excuse me, sir?” I ask as Chase growls under his breath and tightens his hold. “Can you take our picture please?” Mohawk Guy nods and grins before adjusting the satchel he has across his body. He smiles as I hand him the phone. His mouth is teaming with jewelry, little rings on the top and bottom. He brings new meaning to the term ‘metal mouth’.

  “You look like my sister,” Mohawk Guy says on a grin. His eyes are an astonishing shade of green that match my own. If he didn’t have so much metal marring his features, he’d be quite cute.

  “I hope that’s a compliment,” I respond in my most polite tone.

  “It is. People tell me she’s hot all the time. But I’m like, gross, that’s my sister,” he shudders and takes several steps down pointing the camera at us. Both Chase and I laugh at this perfect stranger sharing a bit of his life with us. Somehow, it just adds to the moment in a lovely way. Mohawk Guy must have taken a couple shots while we weren’t watching or posing because I can hear the telltale clicking. Then he comes closer and says, “Now, pretend you love each other.”

  Chase turns his head to me, and clasps my cheeks. His eyes are a stunning shade of ocean blue and like so many times before, I lose myself in them. “I don’t have to pretend,” Chase whispers.

  “Me either,” I say back, right before his lips meet mine. His mouth opens and I delve in, giving Chase what I consider to be the first real kiss of the day, and it’s right here, on the most beautiful stairway in all the world. He tastes of mint and man. My man.

  Chase and I make out on those stairs as if we were teenagers who just found one another and are kissing for the first time. We both put so much promise and love into it that I forget where we are, until I hear giggling from behind me and a little “thwack thwack thwack” sound. I pull away and look back. A little brown haired girl and what must be her brother are jumping down each stair one at a time, holding hands. I turn back and look to see that Mohawk Guy is gone but he left my phone on the step right next to my sandaled foot. Never judge a book by its cover. That kid could have run off with that fancy phone Chase got me, but he didn’t.

  I pick up the phone and pull up the images. There are at least seven or so. There’s the one where we were laughing at one another candidly, then the posed picture and then the up close one. Chase is holding my cheeks and telling me he loves me. That picture is going to be printed and put up in our home. “Look,” I show him the pictures. He points to the one that I like best.

  “Send them all to me but this one is…special.” I nod, so happy to see that he and I are absolutely in tune with one another. I can’t wait to surprise him with a blown up copy of it in our bedroom or living room. “Come on, snookems” he says. Oh no, not another endearment. Snookems is one I will not tolerate. I cringe and he laughs. “No to snookems? Alright, I’ll stick to baby,” he grins and nudges my cheek with his nose. He clasps my hand and we make our way up the rest of the stairs.

  “Onto our next site,” he loops an arm around my shoulder. “You okay to walk?” we both look down to my sparkly flip-flops then his practical walking loafers.

  Smiling, I look up into his eyes and cling to his waist. “I’ll walk with you anywhere.”

  Gillian

  We walk for about a mile when Chase stops at the entrance to the Japanese Tea Garden. It’s a huge gate that looks like a pagoda. The sign on the entrance doors says, “Closed for Maintenance,” but Chase enters anyway.

  “We can’t go in. It’s closed,” I warn in a hushed tone hoping we don’t bring any attention to our trespassing. Chase looks behind him and gestures to a bench near the door for our guards to sit at.

  A man of Asian descent dressed all in white seems to show up out of nowhere. “Mr. Davis,” the man holds out a hand, walking toward us. Chase shakes it. “I believe everything is set up to your liking. You have free reign of the gardens for the next three hours, as requested. And thank you again for the very generous donation. It will be put to good use maintaining the grounds.”

  “Shall we?” Chase smiles and holds a hand out to a few different paths. I shake my head grinning. That man would try to buy his way into the gates of heaven if he could.

  The first place we stop is in front of a red five-story pagoda. It reminds me of the friendship pagoda firecracker I’ve always enjoyed during Independence Day. The one that comes in an octagon shape, and, then when lit, pops up into a mini Asian looking mansion. The real deal is even cooler.

  “This was actually built in 1915 for the Panama-Pacific Exposition. It was moved here after the event to protect the history. Pagodas typically relate to a place where religious activities can be held, usually for Buddhists, who tend to use the tiered location for worship. They are also known to hold artifacts and keep religious relics safe.”

  Chase stares at the red square tiered building while I stare at him. “You’re really into architecture and history,” I lean against his shoulder and wait for his reply.

  He takes a breath and looks around. “It’s a passion of mine, definitely,” he answers simply. I like that about him. Something interesting and different about Chase. Somehow it makes him seem more real, more human.

  We continue down a path and come to a sprawling Zen garden. He leads me to a bench and we sit, looking out over the landscape and the river rocks, which have been raked into perfect calming patterns. “Do you know about the Zen garden too?” I ask. His eyes twinkle and he nods. “Tell me about their significance.”

  Chase cups my shoulder and looks out over the garden. “The Zen garden was added with religious as well as mythological meaning in mind. They are meant to help others in their search for enlightenment.”

  I hum, unsure of the mythological and religious aspects. The gardens are beautiful and would definitely make a person want to think through a problem. “Does it enlighten you?” I ask Chase sarcastically.

  “Yes,” he says deadpan and my shoulders slump at my lost joke. Then I feel it. His shoulders start shaking and he tips his head back and a full belly laugh rumbles through his chest and out his mouth. I smack his chest and snuff against it. “You totally fell for it. Do I look like the type of guy who is enlightened by bunch of rocks and shrubs?” he croaks out while still snickering.

  I roll my eyes. “Whatever!” I huff and stand up preparing to get some distance between us.

  “Oh, no you don’t,” he says as I make a run for it down the winding path. As I’m running, I feel free as a bird. The scenery is lush, green, a
nd full of floral scents that waft along the path. The air is moist, thick with humidity that’s misting my skin as I barrel through another area. I come to a giant red brown half-moon shaped bridge over a span of water that seems to have popped up out of nowhere. The sun glints off the bridge and glistens off the water, creating a full circle in the reflection.

  Chase’s arms come around me from behind, his form flattening against my back. We’re both panting and breathing heavy as I take in the bridge. “Amazing isn’t it?” he whispers, his breath tickling along the edges of my ear and neck.

  “It is,” I hold his arms around my waist keeping him close.

  “Let’s walk over it,” he says gripping me around the waist then clasping my hand. I follow him around the side of the water and to the railing. The bridge is wood with deep small steps that are about a foot apart leading to the peak of the circle. Chase holds my ribs as I find my footing and make my way up. Once at the top, I look out over the gardens. It’s quiet, so quiet you can hear the birds chirping, bees buzzing nearby, even a few creatures that can’t be seen are skittering around making their presence known.

  Chase turns me from the railing and cages me in, his eyes skate over my face. He seems to take in everything, understand all that I’m thinking in this moment, without needing to say a word. He brings his lips to mine and kisses me. It’s not the kiss of a man who’s starved for his woman. No, it’s a kiss to remember. One to pair with this day, and remember twenty, thirty, forty years from now, when we’re old and gray, and come back to this place. We’ll have this. A moment where we expressed our love for one another on a bridge shaped in a never-ending circle. Just like our relationship. Unending.

  He leads me down the steep stairs, clasping me at the waist and pulling me against his big body to the ground. “Come on; you hungry?” he asks. I shake my head out of habit. Who could have an appetite when so much is shattering? At least that’s the way it’s been for the past month. “No? Well, you’re going to eat. Baby, you’re too thin.” I don’t respond. He’s right and we both know it. When we make our way away from the bridge, he leads me to an open clearing surrounded by weeping willow trees. Their branches are weighted toward the ground. Underneath them is a large white blanket and several throw pillows. Next to the pillows is a bucket with champagne and a couple of picnic baskets.

  After we sit down, I kick off my flip-flops, grab Chase’s ankles, and slip off his shoes admiring his bare feet. They’re so masculine with short wide toes with perfectly rounded nails. His feet are ridiculously soft and only a tiny smattering of hair trails down from his ankles to sprinkle the tops of his feet. It’s annoying. Men are supposed to have ugly, mammoth clod hoppers but not my Chase.

  Chase opens the champagne and pours me a glass. It’s crisp with just the right spark of bubbles to tickle the taste buds. Then he sets out a cutting board and proceeds to unwrap and lay out a cornucopia of meats and cheeses. He removes a little glass jar with a purplish paste and adds a few heavy dollops in between the meat and cheese. “Bentley tells me it’s a raspberry chambord infused mustard to go with the coppa, sopressata, and prosciutto,” he points to the different cured meats. “As well as the brie, manchego, and Irish cheddar,” he traces a line on the board between the white cheeses.

  “It looks fantastic.” His smile is wide and sincere. He lays out a few more items to add to our feast. Gherkin pickles, pears, and strawberries.

  Over the course of an hour, we eat, feeding each other little nibbles. Once we’re full, we lay next to one another on the blanket, leaning our heads on the soft pillows. Chase traces a finger from my wrist, up my forearm, over my bicep and to my shoulder then back down. Everywhere he touches tingles with pleasure and ramps up the lust that’s always just brewing under the surface between us.

  “I can’t even imagine not getting to look at your beauty every day,” his words come out as if in prayer.

  “Good thing you don’t have to,” I answer as honestly as possible.

  I never plan to be without him. I’m not sure I could. Now that I’ve experienced the real Chase, the man, not just the overbearing business tycoon who runs an empire, or the sad little boy who watched his mother be hurt for years. I get the benefit of seeing the man who loves architecture, and history, and cookies for breakfast. Who enjoys a simple meal as much as a five-star one. The man who likes to wear pajama bottoms that match the ensembles I wear to bed, or a suit he’s paired with a dress I’m wearing so we’re united in all things. The most honest human being I’ve ever had the privilege of loving.

  Chase sits up and slides a hand from my ankle up under my long dress. He pushes the fabric up to my chest and then motions for me to lift. He removes the entire garment leaving me in nothing but a lavender bra and matching bikini briefs. “You are more stunning than anything in all five acres of these gardens,” he says softly tracing a finger from sternum to knee. With ease, he moves to his knees and pulls the polo up and over his body giving me the sweetest view of his upper half. The golden chest of the Gods. Chase is nothing if not meticulous in his commitment to keeping fit and healthy. It pays off in spades for his chest is muscled to perfection with smooth lines and nice dips along a toned abdomen. He loosens his pants and pulls off the chinos. With reverence, he cups both my knees and then slides them open shifting so his body fits between them.

  Before I realize it, he’s got my bra off and his mouth covering a ripe nipple. He worries the tender peak until it’s as red as the strawberries we just ate. He looks at my chest with such wonder and awe then sucks the other nipple into his mouth. While he’s got the entire thing in his mouth his hands are busy, pulling and pushing down my panties. I wiggle and help remove them until I’m bare under his warm body. I pull Chase’s chin, my breast leaving his mouth in an audible plop.

  “Love your tits, baby. I could suck on them for hours,” he nuzzles them again gripping each globe and points them up to his mouth where he flicks each tip with his tongue. I moan and push my hips up.

  “In me. Need you in me,” I gesture with a tip of my pelvis against his steely erection. He groans and slides down my body.

  “Not yet. I want your cum on my tongue,” he says spreading my legs out wide. Lust rips through me wetting me further at the rawness of his words. We’re out in the open, the sun sprinkling through the trees and here Chase has me, sprawled out naked, his eyes focused on the heat between my legs.

  “I love that I don’t have to even touch your sweet cunt and it positively cries for my touch, my tongue, my cock.” He leans down and inhales. “That smell, your excitement, that’s for me. Do you know what that does to me, Gillian?” Chase stands to remove his boxer briefs. I move to close my legs. “Stay open for me. I want to watch your pussy cry, begging to be filled.”

  For long moments, he stares, completely rapt, focusing on my center, the core of my being. Chase slides a big hand around his hard cock giving it a few tugs, priming it, readying it to plunder and take what’s undeniably his.

  After a few moments, I can’t take it anymore. My hips are rolling up and down, side to side, legs still splayed open to his gaze. He’s tugging on his dick so hard I have to grip the blanket to stay put and let him have his moment. I close my eyes, the desire to wrap my hand around his soft length is strong. Finally, Chase grips my hips and stills the restless movements before I feel the wet heat of his tongue plunge directly into my core.

  “Uh, oh my…” I say then lose my words when he grips the fleshy part of my bum and forces his tongue into me as far as it will go, reaching a place inside me so deep I’m positive no man has ever tasted me in quite that way.

  Chase holds me down as I thrash. His lips seal over my opening and he sucks, hard. So hard that a heavy ache builds in my pelvis and spreads out like a warm blanket. Chase pulls back, laying his lips over the pulsing knot of pure need, the one begging for his attention. He twists his lips around the tight pearl, nips it with his teeth, and gives little teasing flicks against it with his tongue. Final
ly, when I’m so far gone I’m pulling his hair so hard I think I might remove chunks from his head, he puts me out of my misery. Chase lays his lips over my clit in a hard, lock-down move, then rubs the flat of his tongue against it in combination with sucking it back from my body.

  A silent scream leaves my mouth as tremor after tremor rocks my body from the tips of my toes up to the fiery ends of my hair. Chase stays with me, lapping the tight bundle of nerves, stuffing his tongue deep into my pussy all while growling and groaning his appreciation like a wild animal.

  When I finally come down, he centers himself between my thighs and waist, waiting for me to look him in the eye. His lips, chin, and nose are covered in my essence. He lifts up onto his knees and pulls my legs wide then impales my body on his cock. I actually scream out, howling in ecstasy.

  “That’s it baby, you take my cock,” he presses deep. “Take. It. All. The. Way.” He grunts until he’s seated to the very hilt, his heavy balls slapping against the crack of my ass. “You feel me, Gillian. You feel me inside you. I’m always going to be there. Taking you, taking what’s mine, giving you what’s yours.” He breathes heavily as he stirs his cock inside me. “You want that? All of me. Every” thrust “fucking,” thrust, “inch” thrust, “Of me,” thrust,” is yours,” he lets out in a feverish rush.

  He tugs at my hips spearing me on his thick cook, the lips of my sex protesting with each massive thrust. It’s divine. Him taking me this way. Proving that nothing will keep him from me.

  “What do you feel?” He brings a wicked thumb into the mix, swirling the digit around my clit in dizzying circles that sends lightning to my sex.

  “I feel…” I try to catch my breath as my orgasm builds, swirls like a boiling pot, my spine tightening, limbs protesting as the first waves of release shimmer through me. “I feel us.” He smiles, comes down onto me and powers into me.