Tarot Series

In my linen closet, I fumbled for a bag of goodies I’d snagged at a friend’s bridal shower. A woman had come to the party and taught us all state of the art blowjob techniques. I’d bought just about everything, held onto it for two years and now I was about to give my purchases a test run. Finally.

So many delicious toys, which one to try out on him first? Well, I’d said Pig in Paradise, might as well do it. I took out the tube canister and shoved everything else back in the closet.

“What’s going on? What took you so long?” He was pouting like a sexy magazine model. “What’s that?”

I opened the canister and out tumbled the rope of pearls. I took one end in my left hand, the other in my right.

“Think you’re ready for it?” I snapped the strand tight.

He nodded, staring at the pearls, too excited to speak.

I got between his legs and started licking his cock head. I made eye contact with him as I took the whole head in my mouth and he moaned.

“Go deeper, baby…please.”

I ignored him, taking my time, making sure he was good and wet before I gave him that distinct pleasure. I licked to the base of his cock, then let my mouth follow, keeping it tight around his cock. When I took him down my throat, he started going crazy on the bed. I took the pearls and slipped them around his cock and balls and wound them around once, twice, three times, as my mouth came back up his pole.

“Oh…Manalo…that feels…incredible.”

I used the pearls to move up his cock as my mouth met it in the middle. I let the pearls go around the base, then back around his cock and balls, and then I gave his balls some attention. By the time I’d wrapped the pearls around the base and balls for the fourth time, then tightened my grip, my mouth was sucking like a whirling dervish and his ass shot in the air. He came so hard, he startled me.

“Oh God, Oh God!” Holding my head tight, he battered my throat until I thought he would never stop coming. I kept my grip on the pearls the way I’d been taught, knowing he would still be coming long after he’d stopped gushing. His cock throbbed crazily in my mouth and he fell back on the bed.

“Baby…I’m still coming.” He thrashed on the bed and I marveled at how long his orgasm lasted. I finally took pity on him when he flopped back, a tear escaping the corner of his eye.

I released the bonds on his cock and balls and tongued and kissed everything. He was still rigid when my tongue tip met his cock head.

“You belong to this cock, Manalo,” he whispered.

Our battle raged until we got to the house, two blocks away, right on the oceanfront on the half moon curve of Hanalei Bay. As always, the moment we were inside the door, I was all over him. I never knew how to respond to his emotional outbursts other than to make love to him. There was nothing we couldn't sort out in bed, he and I.

He resisted at first, he always took a moment to calm down from one of his flare-ups, but then his mouth met mine and we exchanged a long, heated kiss. I heard Ginger whining. She knew already that her daddies were settling in for a long, solid night of fucking and that a sunset walk probably wasn't in her immediate future.

I kept my mouth on Ntino, loving the feel of his slim, toned body. He pressed into me, but I knew he was still angry. Lord, I loved to fuck him when he was mad. It made things even more passionate between us, if that was even possible. I kicked the front door shut and took him down to the floor, trying to get between his legs. He twisted and turned underneath me, as if fighting me, even as his hands held my head to his. Our cocks connected. Mine was rock hard, his was not.

It surprised me. Usually the second we touched one another, Ntino had a raging hard on. I ground myself against him and his breath quickened. I pulled his shirt up and over his head, a couple of buttons popping off against the floor. I took hold of his left hand, licking and kissing the palm as his fingers flexed in pleasure. I stole a glance at his face as I sucked fingertips, one by one. There was a look of disbelief, as well as furious lust. I bent forward to lick his face and neck.

He moaned as I moved down to his torso. As my tongue traced his ribs, I held his hands up over his head and heard his deep, contented sigh. My knee kept rubbing, dry humping his crotch, and I felt him harden.

I reached up with another kiss for his mouth, one hand going to his swollen cock. I couldn't help myself. I needed to touch that sweet, thick, uncut piece of manhood. He had the juiciest one I'd ever seen, his balls heavy in my hands. I ran the cock head against my face and he was squirming for entry into my mouth, but I had to make him wait. I tightened my grip on his cock, running it down my throat and to my chest. The second the head touched my nipple, we both groaned. I took his pants all the way down past his feet. His fingers made quick work of my zippered fly, and as he inched my jeans past my ass, I knew in seconds I was going to be inside him, my man panting for a hard pounding, his legs wrapped around my waist.

No, I wanted this to last.

I grinned at the cute valet, whose name was Justino. He took my name and room number and two hours later we were driving back toward Kona in his car, a ramshackle beach cruiser that had a surprising amount of power for a vehicle that looked like it was held together with rubber bands.

“Boa noite,” he grinned at me.

“Is that good evening?”

He nodded. “In Portuguese.”

I was intrigued. I’d never been out with a Portuguese man before, but my internet wanderings had led me to a few who seemed notorious cruisers.

 “In the morning I have to be back at work and I can drive you,” he told me, and I was impressed with his assumption that he was going to get lucky with me. His hand went between my legs and he worked on the zipper of my jeans, his eyes never straying from the road. His fingers snaked into my boxer-briefs and he tsk-tsked over my iffy stiffy.

“How long has it been since you had a man?” he asked me.

“Too long,” I gasped as I became rock hard and his head went straight to my crotch…as he was driving! I helped steer the wheel to bring Justino’s car to the shoulder of the road, my hips and ass bucked and jumped under his tongue and determined strokes. He licked the head of my cock, ran his tongue along the sides of my shaft and held my balls in his hand as he started to suck in an expert way. When I started to come, he took his mouth off me, laughing as I shot all over the place.

“You make a lot of come. You need.” He stroked me to get the last of my juices, his large, expressive eyes lowered in concentration.

“For one hundred dollars you can come in my mouth, for five hundred, you can fuck me in the ass. I don’t usually like bumming, but for you…” He shrugged.

Bumming? I lost my interest in going anywhere with him, but we were both covered in my come. What a crazy experience! Are there any normal gay guys in Hawaii? My thoughts strayed to Byron and I wondered if his boyfriend appreciated what a nice guy he had there.

“You want me to pay you?” I asked Justino, who let go of my cock. He reached into the glove compartment and brought out a box of tissues. We wiped ourselves down and found ourselves laughing.

“Nah…I like you. You’re meigo…sweet. We can have fun. You pay me if it’s good. Yeah?”

“No. I’m going back to the hotel.”

“Nah…come on, we make fun time.” He gave me a hot kiss that left no doubt that we would have fun and he swung the car back on the road. 

I smelled the pungent wild fruit that grew in proliferation here. Lowering my window, I was intoxicated. Waiawi ‘ula ‘ula.

Parking on a slope, I trotted down an overgrown path thick with moss and vines. I followed my nose to ripe bunches of the rare, small yellow guava. I reached out a hand to pluck one off a tree and was stunned to see a guy standing between thickets of bamboo and ginger, peeing into the distance.

Oh, he was good looking. At first I thought I was seeing the ghost of some ancient Hawaiian he was so magnificent. It’s not that I am a fanciful man, but this guy looked pure blood, with skin so dark, his features so defiant, like an ancient, proud warrior, he took my breath away. Our eyes met. He was giving me the once over and I relaxed. He was flesh and blood. Ancient Hawaiians didn’t wear tank tops and board shorts. He walked right over to me. I towered over him by at least six inches and was surprised when his hand went straight to my crotch.

My cock leapt in my jeans and his palm moved slowly across the hardness he was creating. Above us, a pair of circling I’o’, island hawks cawed, extending their massive wingspan. They were on their way to getting a meal…and I was on my way to getting something even better.

The man touching me was clearly aroused. His cock jutted upward, but his focus was on me. “For me?” he whispered. I couldn’t speak. I’d avoided sex with anyone in the joint except for one guy in my last year there. I’d stayed out of trouble. My height and demeanor offered me protection. Now I was in mute need and that steady strumming across my groin had me almost ready to burst.

What the hell am I doing? I never picked up guys in the woods. He fell to his knees, unbuttoning the fly and I watched the rapt way he took out my huge tool. He moaned as he rubbed the tip with his palm, liking the juice he enticed from me. He put his hand to his mouth and gave it a long lick. I almost came on the spot, except the hungry stranger leaned back to me, putting his lips to my cock. The pleasure was immediate and intense. I came all over his face and he laughed. I was so embarrassed, but he just kept rubbing my cock all over his face and began licking it, hesitantly at first and then, when he knew I could take it, began sucking me in earnest.

He had a way of keeping his tongue moving over the head into my slit that left me feeling dizzy and anxious. I was worried somebody would catch us, but I didn’t want him to stop.

"So tell me how you got the guitar," he said, filling his own glass with the last of the wine. There wasn't a bite of bread or a sliver of onion left on our plates.

"My dad bought it for me," I said. "Just before he died. "We went to a guitar convention…one of the really early NAM shows in San Diego. I was ten years old."

"What year was that?"

"1990." I fiddled with a nut that had fallen from the walnut tree.

"Go on."

"He was dying. He had cancer. He wanted to get me something I would never forget. I wanted to be a guitarist. It was my passion. He never tried to talk me out of it. My dad was thirty-six and I was losing him. I still miss him every day, Micah. That guitar…it was like I still had him with me." I swatted at a fat tear streaking down my cheek.

"I still remember the guy who sold it to us. Oh…man, I haven't even told my mom yet. She'll be devastated."

He didn't say anything for a moment. I remembered the vivid blue of my Dean From Hell. It was the sexiest thing I'd ever seen in my whole life. The seller recited the attributes like a catalogue. It had been created for guitarist Dimebag Darrell. The seller pointed out the V-shaped neck, designed for faster playing, the Bill Lawrence L-500XL pickup in the bridge, two traction volume knobs, custom burn marks on the tips of the headstock, a master tone knob, and the gorgeous rosewood fretboard.

I just loved the blue color, the groovy shape, almost like a psychedelic rocket ship. It had two owners, a father, son…and then, me. A gift from a dying father to his son.

"Why were they selling?" Micah asked.

The question depressed me. It meant he was interested in its provenance. In keeping it.

His hand reached over the table and stroked mine. He toyed with my fingers in a provocative way, touching the pads of my fingertips with his. Our fingers entwined.

"The seller didn't really want it," I said, feeling a surge of heat that reached my groin. I was sadly in serious erotic distress.

"The mania for 1970s stuff wasn't so huge then," I said. "I think the guy was embarrassed by the guitar. He was more into acoustic stuff. My dad got it for a deal."

Micah's long fingers stroked from my wrist to my fingers. It felt so nice.

"Coffee?" Amelia asked.

"Yes, please," I said.

"Not me," Micah said. "I'm enjoying the buzz."

He talked me into their Artisan cheese plate and then assembled the almost erotic array of cheeses for me, handing them to me in bites. There was a rich, creamy brie on thick, sweet honeycomb. He handed me a perfect, plump, sugar-dusted blackberry atop a slice of aged white cheddar. A bite of stilton swiped with quince jam. He was a charmer, that's for sure.

Charmers charm snakes. A voice inside me warned.

"I'm willing to give you the Vendetta," he said, "for a price."

I sure wanted to know the price, but was beset by the urge to pee. I excused myself. In the tiny men's room, which contained no doors, only billowing, filmy curtains, I peed like a racehorse. I heard footsteps. In the small mirror to my right, I caught a glimpse of the new arrival. Micah. We exchanged smiles in the mirror and then he was all over me. His hand moved to my cock and I jumped. I stopped peeing. His fingers ran over the length of my shaft, his mouth moving to my throat.

"You can have your guitar back," he said. "On one condition."

His tongue slid across my neck.

"What condition?" My voice came out squeaky. Great, Garrick. Really seductive.

"I want to spend the weekend in bed with you."

Jack leaned over to whisper in Ruth’s ear. His warm breath caused her heart to skip a beat. "Your pleasure is our mission."

Ruth clasped his hand, which had begun crawling up her thigh.

"A little now," he teased, mocking her, "might tide you over until later."

She looked sharply at him. Later? His eyes were laughing.

A low moan from her right caused her to glance toward Desiree. Her lap was covered with a nondescript lap robe, but the telltale signs of the blanket moving made it clear that Brad, who leaned into Desiree, was bringing her off—apparently expertly. After Desire covered her mouth and her eyes rounded in delight, Ruth turned back to Jack.

"Why do you suppose they provide lap robes?" he asked. "It's not all that cold in here. You're sitting on one, if you think you might be a little chilly."

Ruth chewed on her bottom lip and watched Barb who was perched on the stage, palming her pussy. Ruth pulled the lap robe out from under her. Jack helped her spread it across her lap.

Without saying another word, Jack settled back in his chair, remaining focused on Barb's stage antics. The two of them might as well be sitting at the movies eating popcorn, except for the fact that his right hand was palming her pussy.

"You really did come for her."

"I never fake coming," Ruth huffed between clenched teeth as he slipped a finger between her folds, seeking entry. She shifted slightly and his long finger easily bore into her.

They sat for a moment as if gathering their thoughts. Ruth blinked, hoping there were no undercover cops about. They might not be overtly obvious, but anybody watching closely knew what was happening beneath the lap robe.

Jack did all the work. She didn't have to move at all. He worked his finger probing from side to side and then rhythmically in and out of her. Soon the butt of his palm grazed her clit and she gave up watching Barb or thinking about who might stop them. And then she was again sliding over the top. She whimpered softly as he maintained a steady, languid pace, turning her to soft butter. They both seemed satisfied with her coming slow and easy. Her eyes blinked wide open and then quickly shut. Perhaps they were saving something for later.

After giving her sufficient time to recover, Jack eased out of her and sniffed his finger. "Nothing better than the scent of a woman," he said grinning at her. She watched him suck his finger into his mouth. "Other than the taste of a woman."

He glanced back toward the stage. "Show’s just about over. Barb will go backstage and dress. It won't take long for her to join you two."

Jack stood and Brad rose from his seat. "We'll see you ladies a little later. We've got several things to do to close up here."

Ruth watched the men strut away from them.

"I'll bet," Desiree whispered, "they're the bouncers at this place—at least when Barbie is working."

Ruth nodded her agreement. "Looks like. No wonder they weren't too worried about being noticed."

"They seemed like nice enough guys," Desiree said dreamily. "I did feel a little sorry for leaving Sampson out. Do you suppose Barbie takes on the three of them at once?"

"Why not? Nothing Barbie does would surprise me anymore."

"Do you think we're safe with her?"

"Of course we are. She's not going to harm us. We might be in for a long weekend," Ruth flashed an eyebrow, "but I don't think we have to be afraid of her." She glanced in the direction of the three men. "Or anyone else."

He had been watching the motion of her breasts as she tugged on the bedding, and the pressure behind his zipper was threatening to burst it wide open.

“Your clothing had to be removed to ascertain the seriousness of your injuries. And because we are now hand fasted for one year. According to Realm tradition, you have until the waning of the full moon to come to me to consummate the union. After that, I will come to you.”

She had a suspicious look on her face, “How long until the waning of the moon?”

His eyes lighting with anticipation and the smile on her face confirmed her suspicions. “About four hours. Then you’re mine.”

“Like hell.” She scooted up in the bed, and kept the covers to her chin, “This isn’t your company, and you can’t just do something like that. It’s unethical.”

The shadow of anger flew across his features as her words struck him. “It may be unethical, but for mages it is quite natural. Either you come to me, or I will come to you. And you will welcome me.”

“I don’t think so.” She crossed her arms over her breasts and hugged herself.

Suddenly, he leaned toward her and caught her mouth with his own. Without warning, his tongue swept inside to take possession. She moaned as heat flared within her, and her eyes widened as she felt the stirring of magic within her. His magic was pouring into her through his mouth and her body was coming alive.

Her eyes opened to see the two werewolves hovering over her. "This has to be the weirdest dream I have ever had. But usually I am alone with the guy and there is no girl."

            Sirnel applied the compress that his sister had obtained, "We aren't part of a dream, and there are Magi on your trail. There has been an alert that an Archive is loose in the world and they are ready and willing to fight to possess you."

            "But how did they find me? For that matter, how did you find me?"

            "Your grandmother knew that knowledge of your existence was only a matter of time, and so she met with our Alpha to arrange for a bodyguard for you. Years ago. But, as long as you remain on your grandmother's property or our lands, you are free from their intervention. But not free from ours."

* * * * *

"From yours." Her mind was whirling "Your clan wants something from me? "

            "They want possession of the only living Archive."

            "Well, I am currently in your custody." Her tone ended with a hopeful note. She knew that there was more to it, but she could dream. "Will that do for now? "

            "They want it on a permanent basis, Melissande."

            "What does that mean?"She raised a hand to hold the compress to her head and she turned to his sister for clarification. "What did he mean, Rebecca?"

            "In two days, all interested unmated males of the clan will make a play for your affections by holding a games day. Each game designed to highlight the strength and abilities of the wolves involved. Only the five highest scoring participants will be presented to you for choosing."

            "Oh, great. Speed dating for complete idiots." She closed her eyes and shook her head; she couldn't believe that she had forgotten her grandmother's property was within a pack territory. Her grandma had been pressing her to start dating seriously, but she had just brushed it off as grandmotherly pestering. Apparently, Grandma had taken matters into her own hands.

            "Sirnel, maybe you should get some of the other alpha females here to help out. I don't think that the guys will be much use. "Rebecca shook her head at her brother and frowned.

            "Why do you say that?"

            "Well if you had been able to get your brain out of her pants for more than a few moments, I would say let you stay. But we can't contaminate the games by getting her too familiar with you. It would be cheating." She smiled slightly as Melissande coloured brightly, red flooding into her cheeks.

            A heavy sigh broke through him. " Yes, I guess you are right. I don't want her sent off with someone who won' t respect her just because I became too familiar."

            "He 's leaving?" Disappointed was a mild word. Crushed was the only one that fit.

            "Yes, Melissande, I have to leave. That way I have a chance to be presented to you at the games, if I am a winner." He sat next to her and leaned forward for a delicate kiss. She tasted his breath for an instant, spicy and wild, then his lips gently pressed into hers. Her lids fluttered closed and her entire focus was the soft strength of his mouth on her. It was as if her entire body was using that light touch as a spur to its arousal. Her pulse pounded in her veins, and then he was gone.

“Joan, there’s something peculiar about this card. I get a tingling sensation every time I touch it.”

“Hmm. Let me see it.”

Billy handed it to her.

“That’s odd,” she said.

“Here,” said Billy, “Let me show you something.”

He took the card and slipped it into the front of Joan’s shorts.

“Oh, Billy,” she said. He had rarely done anything like that before.

“Just leave it there for a while,” he said.

They walked a little further.

“I’ve got a strange feeling in my pants,” said Joan.

“I did too,” said Billy.

“It makes me want to kiss you and make out with you,” she giggled.

“Me too,” said Billy.

“I’ll bet Susan is behind this, or Diana.”

“You think so?”

“You know we’re all witches, don’t you? Or at least we’re trying to be.”

“Oh, yeah, you’ve told me all that stuff before.”

Janet was a nice girl. She wasn't particularly smart, or pretty, or good at anything, but she was nice. She worked as a secretary at a small office in a large city. She lived alone with her cat, her bird, and a tank of tropical fish. She hadn't had a date in months and felt inadequate.

She had gone to see the Gypsy. The colorful woman always seemed to be laughing at something. But she hadn't laughed last night. She had gotten serious when she dealt out the Tarot cards and scanned them.

"This is bad," she said. "Very bad. Very bad."

"But there are none of the bad cards showing," said Janet.

"Oh," said the Gypsy, "that's true. None of the really bad cards are here, tonight. But this one here… this one worries me. And it seems to be in a dominant position."

The Gypsy pointed to a card right in front of Janet. It was only the Five of Pentacles.

"What's so bad about that card?" asked Janet.

"It portends bad things," said the Gypsy. "Bad things. Bad things will happen to you. Soon. Really soon. Maybe even tonight. Or perhaps tomorrow. But bad things will happen in your life."

"Each time I visit with you, Goddess, your presence renews my faith in the land, in you and in your gifts to us." He paused, then added in ritual form, "What would you have of me, my lady?" He forced himself to look directly into her eyes. The black of her pupils reflected the many multitudes of stars overhead.

"I would have your best ministrations, prince of my realm."

Peter grinned. Sometimes the Goddess asked for only a gentle touch, a caress. Tonight she seemed to want all of him. Jocasta shivered, pretty goose flesh rising on her arms. "I'm honored to give you pleasure, Lady." Jocasta once again entwined her hands in his hair and grasped tightly, forcing a gasp from his lips. On strong arms, he pushed himself down over her body, blowing air over her exposed flesh and reveling in the little movements of her reaction.

Faced with her womanhood, he grasped her thighs, one in each hand, and pushed them apart. The milky flesh of her legs quivered as she drew her legs apart, allowing him to access her most secret places. Desire pounded through his body and thrummed in his head, blinding him to all but what lay before him. Lost in passion, he began his worship with a sigh of happiness.

“Roses?”

“Yes sir. On an occasion as auspicious as tonight promises to be, nothing other than roses could possibly suffice.”

Mathew stared across the room, fascinated. His valet was actually vibrating in satisfaction. He could only assume he’d meant to sound portentous. It was a shame he was only twelve inches tall, really, because it was hard to take the reedy little voice seriously.

“Red roses, I presume?” Mathew asked.

“But of course.” The valet looked up, his brow even more furrowed than normal. “Ah! Now I see, sir. You were jesting. Blood red roses are simply –” He sighed. “– Suitable.”

Mathew attempted a weak smile. The prat was driving him insane. Perhaps that had been his mother’s plan when she’d insisted he take Frederick along with him on his hunt for a bride. If he was buried under protocols, weighed down by what he could – and could not – do, then surely he’d simply give up.

Or not.

Mother had obviously underestimated just how seriously he was taking this one last chance to save his soul.

While he’d been contemplating the ceiling, Frederick was bustling around the room, smoothing non-existent wrinkles in his perfectly pressed coat, re-arranging the revolting gold-and-silver backed brushes his father had given him for his 200th birthday. Could the man – he mentally corrected himself, gnome – never stand still? There was probably a rule against it in the ‘how to be a perfect valet’ handbook.

“Blood red roses? But what sort of blood?” Mathew steepled his fingers, refusing to meet his valet’s scandalized gaze. “Arterial blood is such a lovely bright red. A cheerful color. The blood from the veins, however…”

He licked his lips, purposely baring a single fang just to see Frederick shudder in horror. Frederick. What kind of name was that for a gnome anyway?

“Sir?” Frederick’s voice wavered even more than usual.

Mathew closed his eyes. “It’s so... luscious. Totally different. Thick, flavorsome… Mmmm.”

His body tightened at the thought, every cell suddenly screaming for nourishment. He couldn’t help wondering just how decadently rich Sophie’s blood would taste as it rushed down his throat. He’d sink his fangs in her neck and his cock –

He sat up abruptly, forcing his mind away from the frantic beat of Frederick’s heart. It was too long since he’d fed, and if he wasn’t more careful he’d be having Frederick for a pre-dinner snack. And that would not be good for his already-tarnished soul.

He stood up, his eyes swiveling to follow his valet’s crab-scuttle around the edge of the room. Frederick was eying him as warily as he would a hungry tiger. He smiled, knowing the flickering candlelight would gleam on his fangs, then stalked from the room. Occasionally Frederick needed a reminder of just who was the predator – and who was the prey.

Lily Regis could not get enough of her own beauty.

Justin Prince watched her face, a perfect oval, ivory, skin as smooth as if a girl of twenty, only the shadow of a line here and there to show the passage of years.

And even those lines only graced the perfection of her features, eyes wide and blue as mountain skies, the delicate turn of her nose and lips that framed a mouth inviting ecstasy and ruin. Lily's face hung in the mirror and reflected a hundred times in the faceted walls and ceilings of her boudoir.

Those perfect, crimson lips parted in a wild scream as Justin Prince thrust deep inside her. He mounted her from behind, his finger on her clit acted like the trigger of love's own pistol.

Lily's scream echoed and danced endlessly in the glass.

Justin thought of a white bird in a cage of reflective crystal, cascading around the walls and across a shining, depthless ceiling. She closed her eyes and moved with him, clenching her pussy to milk the last of his restraint, undeniable in the sweet pull and pulse. He clutched her breast and came, long and wet and deep inside the cunt of the most powerful woman in Colorado.

Fucking her was the kind of thing a man might lose his license over, Justin thought, or at least the contract with her husband, if old man Regis wasn't way past caring.

"I'm gaining her confidence," Justin told himself, even while he remembered that lying to a liar is even harder when you're lying to yourself.

His spent dick shrank out of her and he gave her clit a last touch then stroked the ivory curve of her hip with deferential tenderness. She made a noise like a panther and collapsed onto the bed. The pale paradise of her back and bottom mesmerized him like a land where a man might live forever, a white island in the sea of red silk sheets.

Justin straddled her, his cock hanging in the cleft of her butt and she shifted beneath him, propping herself on her arms, staring into the depthless silver mirror beside the bed. He reached down between her legs and massaged the open lips of her cunt, smearing her, rousing her clit to slow stiffness.

Lily ground against his hand and tightened her ass around his lengthening cock. She spoke, but so softly he hardly heard her.

Then he realized she had not been talking to him at all.

"Tell me," she whispered. "Am I still the most beautiful woman in the world?"

Damn! If he wasn’t so pressed for precious time, he’d pursue her. A little recreational sex was just what the doctor ordered. He’d loved watching her. Then she’d gone and disappointed him by eating too quickly and leaving barely ten minutes after they arrived. Still, by the way she carried herself, he’d bet she was beat. Even the dark circles under her eyes couldn’t detract from her loveliness. It merely brought out his protective instincts. His cock grew hard at the mere thought of sinking into her moist heat.

Nick leaned toward him, his telepathic link clear, Will you stop it already?

Adam’s eyes widened. I’m sorry. I didn’t realize I’d connected with you.

Well, you did. Don’t you usually connect with me when you see a prime specimen like her? Nick gave a snort of derision. Now my cock is near to bursting with no relief in sight. It’s been years since I’ve felt such an intense craving for a woman. I want nothing more than to seek her out, bury my head between her legs and lap up her woman’s thick cream like a cub.

Adam could only agree with that idea. It wasn’t until they both saw the woman slinking through the darkness on their way to their room that their suspicions were aroused. He held up his hand, silently stopping Nick in his tracks.

He almost hadn't recognized his own mate. She had aged a bit. It wasn't surprising since humans tended to grow old a lot faster than his kind. He could slow the aging though, if Eden would allow it. He knew she wouldn't. Wasn't that the message his mate had conveyed when she hightailed it out of here as though there was a bomb up her ass and an explosive ordinance disposal unit in the next state? If it wasn't, the woman had a real strange way of showing her unconditional love and acceptance.

His mate looked the same, yet didn't. Older, more mature, she had an air of responsibility about her that wasn't present before. He should have expected that. She had a daughter now. She'd also gained a few pounds. The way people were these days about weight, Eden probably figured the pounds would keep her safe from him if she showed up carrying a little extra meat on her bones. Little did the minx know that his people regarded curves on a woman as sexy. Jake hadn't thought it was possible, but his mate was more desirable now than she had been eight years ago. He pressed his hand against his cock. At the moment, he wanted nothing more than to run around behind some bushes and whip out his cock to take the edge off his nearly uncontrollable lust before she got here.

He grimaced with self-disgust as his cock bucked behind his zipper at the thought. What did he expect? Just because his mate had finally gotten around to coming back home, it didn't mean she was going to drop to the ground and let him mount her. Eden, never one to let him stay above her for long, would never stand for a position of submissiveness, though that was just what he needed now. He needed his mate naked and below him while he buried himself balls deep into her tight cunt.

How many times had he dreamed of Eden over the years? How many times had he settled for the empty release of jerking off to her scent because she didn't have the courage to stick around eight years ago?

Jake shook his head. No. Now wasn't the time to think about shit like this. What he needed to think about was what made her leave, why would the woman of his dreams, his mate, feel the need to run from him, leaving town without a word--without a trace? What had he done to frighten her other than to tell the woman he planned to spend the rest of his life loving what he was? Was that so bad? He had never raised a hand to her in anger. In fact, he had taken care of Eden when he found her cold and alone, barely eighteen as well as living in the streets.

Another question. Who did she run to? Who took his place in Eden's life? Who gained his woman's trust enough to plant a seed in her womb so soon after she left while he sat here, his mate gone, living in the hell of forced celibacy? More importantly, who was the man he would kill for fucking his mate?

Jake thought about the little girl Eden had birthed in her absence. The child must resemble her dad. The girl didn't look like a bit her mother that was for sure. At least the color of her deep brown hair was nothing like her mother's lighter brown. He didn't remember seeing the color of her eyes, but was certain they weren't the same vivid violet that Eden had. No, the girl definitely took on her father's characteristics. The rat bastard.

Rage, unlike anything he had ever felt before surged, through him. The more he thought about it, the angrier he got. Eden was his mate, his woman. What's more, she should have had his child. By all rights, that girl should belong to him. Given his way, she would. The girl's mother belonged to him, belonged with him and, as such, Eden's children would become his own. For him, there was no other. He was Alpha wolf of the Night Forest Clan. He and his people mated for life.

The loud wail of the banshee called him to the house. The wind howled, accompanying the otherworldly screech that made his blood run cold. The demon was close to making another kill. Gunther Andarton made his way swiftly through the underbrush, ignoring the briars that dug into his flesh as he ran toward the little cottage. His only thought was to save whatever poor, pathetic creature the demon had singled out this night.

Peering through the window, into the darkened interior, he watched a woman throw her head back and scream in the throes of an orgasm, a man’s dark head buried between her legs. The firelight played over her olive colored skin, her black hair gleamed blue-black in the orange light and her chest heaved as she fought to catch her breath.

Soon, the man lifted his head. His eyes glittered with menace, their color a dull orange, and he bared his lengthened canines. The woman still lay gasping beneath him, apparently unaware of her lover’s ghastly change. He laved the crease of her thigh with his tongue. She couldn’t have realized his intent as she spread her legs wider to accommodate him. He smiled evilly. “I am darkness,” he said, just before he buried his elongated teeth into her femoral artery.
Gunther tensed for a second before he flew into action. Using his preternatural strength, he jumped and burst through the window, landing beside the life-sucking spawn from Hell. He growled into the creature’s ear as he easily snapped its neck. “And I am Death.”

The rattle of pipes coming from upstairs signaled Max was in the shower. Max Logan was in her house. Naked. Fiona dropped bonelessly into the kitchen chair. What the hell had she done?

One look at him with his shirt off in the dying sunlight had almost sent her into hormone overload. His body was tan and just rippled with muscles. He'd certainly improved with age. And now he was in her house for God only knew how long.

She was certifiable. Where had all this pent-up lust come from anyway? He was her high school crush, for heaven's sake! She'd had other boyfriends since him. Heck, she'd been married and divorced since he rode his sorry ass out of town like a character from a James Dean movie.

So why did it take one look from those bedroom eyes of his to make her feel like she was sixteen again? Sixteen, and full of hormones and a sense of immortality. She'd ridden on the back of his motorcycle, racing through the night like they'd live forever, and kissed him on a beat-up picnic blanket under the stars like the night would never end.

Well, it had ended. And those feelings didn't last forever. She'd recovered from her first heartbreak and moved on. Just because he decided to stroll back into town didn't mean he was going to stroll into her bed.

The pipes gave a gurgle and stopped rattling. He was out of the shower and would be down soon, and here she was sitting at the table mooning over him like an idiot. Jumping up, Fiona grabbed the heavy stoneware plates and set the table. She drained the beans and added butter, salt and pepper to them. The meal wasn't fancy, but it was filling, and besides, she didn't have to impress him with her cooking skills.

Then why had she made the apple pie?

"Man, something smells good in here! There's nothing like home cooking after a working up a sweat."

Fiona jumped at the sound of Max's voice coming from the doorway. How had he gotten down the stairs without her hearing him? She must have been so sunk in her thoughts she missed the telltale squeak.

"Well, it's not fancy."

"I could go to a restaurant if I wanted fancy. I haven't had meatloaf in years."

Getting the sour cream out of the industrial-size fridge, Fiona forced her hands to stop shaking. Max's hair was still wet, and he smelled like soap and hot male. Cripes, he even smelled the same as he used to, and her body was remembering it all too well.

She placed the dinner on the table and tried to still the frantic beating of her heart. Sitting across from Max at her parents' kitchen table and trying to carry on a normal conversation was going to be next to impossible. Every time she looked at him her pulse raced and butterflies did the Cha Cha in her stomach.

And heat flowed through her body right between her legs. Her mind might know better than to want Max Logan again, but her body could have cared less. It remembered every touch, every kiss Max had given her, and wanted to see if the magic was still here.

"So, how come you're not married?" Max interrupted her thoughts.

"Cause I don't have a thing for pain."

"What?" Max stopped his fork halfway to his mouth.

"Just kidding. I was married, it didn't work out and I got divorced a couple years ago." Ran for her freaking life was more like it.

"Someone from around here?" Max shoved another bite into his mouth.

"No, someone I met in college. We lived in New York for a while. What about you? Any trips down the altar?"

Damn! What had made that pop out of her mouth!

He looked over at them suddenly, cocking a dark eyebrow. It was Derdra and Mirage who stood there. Derdra had large breasts with dark brown nipples, and they were stiff with desire. Mirage's excitement was also highly evident, his seven inch cock standing stiff with greedy need. Letting his eyes move over them, Ash allowed his head to fall back. "You are anxious to please me tonight, my pets?" He murmured.

"Yes my lord," Derdra said, licking her full lips.

Mirage gave him the slightest smile. "I hold my breath in anticipation."

"You know what pleasures await you," Ash whispered seductively, his voice barely audible.

They both nodded. Of course they did. He was the son of Abbadon, descended from the God of lust. Aside from being a great warrior, his talents in the art of giving sexual pleasure were unsurpassed. His flesh slaves lined up to please him.

Rising out of the bath now; he heard the two slaves give audible sighs as they watched the trails of soapy water slide over the muscular curves of his chest and stomach. They paused at his sex, both fully cognizant of its capabilities, and waited for his command.

Ash held out his hand, and both slaves hurried over with towels to dry him. He stepped out of the tub, allowing them to linger over the task of running the towel over his smooth rounded buttocks and semi erect sex. Derdra moved downward now, sliding the towel over his muscular thigh to his calf, then to his foot, which she kissed lightly with her lips. Her eyes rose up to his, needy, full of desire. He nodded at her, allowing her to run the tip of her tongue around the head of his sex.

Duriken began to laugh, but he took a step back. “So which one of your songs should we play for this scene?” he scoffed.

Lane wrapped the whip around his hand, and glared menacingly at Duriken. “How about ‘The Hangman?’

“Why that one?” Duriken tilted his dark head.

“Don’t you know anything about the occult?”

He laughed.

“The Hangman is a card in Tarot.” Lane took a determined step towards him. Duriken took another back.

“The Hangman sacrifices much to find the answers to his questions, sometimes even his own life.”

“And how does it end?”

“Well,” Lane narrowed his eyes. “Sometimes he realises that it’s not worth it, that what he was looking for,” Lane glanced over at Nigel and swallowed, “was there all along.”

Kendal hung up without leaving a message. He was falling asleep in front of the television when the phone rang. “Charlie?” He peered at the time on the television, searching for his new glasses on the sofa.

“It’s Aaron, sorry.”

“Aaron?”

“I have call display. You didn’t leave a message.”

“Oh, yeah. Sorry. I didn’t know what to say. Look, I spoke with Charlie.”

“And?”

“I’m sorry. I’m really sorry. We had a communication breakdown. Charlie had a crush on you, that’s all. He’s never really spoken to you.” He laughed slightly. “Says you’re a snob.”

“I see.”

“Aaron, are you angry?”

“No. So, you’ve forgiven him then?”

“Not entirely. Technically, he didn’t have an affair, but we have some problems in our relationship. We’re going to take it slow. I’m not taking him back just yet.”

“Going to make him sweat.”

“Something like that.”

“Guess that means you still love him?”

“Well, seven years.”

“That wasn’t my question.”

“I suppose so.”

“Okay then, well…good luck with it.”

“Aaron?”

“Yep?”

“I’d like to do something to make it up to you.”

There was silence, then, suddenly, he said, “What do you have in mind, Kendal?” The voice was silky smooth, seductive. It sent a tiny shiver down his spine. Oh, what could it hurt to flirt a little? He’d never had the chance to flirt with someone like Aaron Radcliff, and it was harmless, over the phone. No danger there.

He laughed a little. “You’re not being a naughty boy, are you, Aaron?” He sucked in some breath.

“Not yet.”

Kendal smiled. “What exactly does that mean?”

“It means that you haven’t given me that opportunity.”

“Little hard on the phone.”

“What’s a little hard?”

“Maybe I’m a little hard. I saw your picture in my friend’s calendar.”

“Did you?” God, he had a sexy voice.

“Yes. You have a nice chest. Ever thought about posing nude?”

He laughed.

“Would you?”

“Depends.”

“Depends on what?”

“Who was taking the pictures. Do you have a good camera?”

“You wouldn’t pose nude for me.” Kendal was blushing, and he was all alone in his living room.

“How do you know?”

“I’m not your type.”

“How do you know that?”

“Come on, Aaron. You’re teasing me.”

“I think you’re the one teasing me. Why don’t you let me come by your place tonight, and I’ll tell you how you can make it up to me?”

“Whoa, whoa, cowboy.” Kendal laughed. “If you actually showed up at my doorstep, you’d have to carry through on your promise.”

“What’s your address?”

Shocked, Kendal swallowed.

“What’s your address?”

A one night stand. A one night stand with the most gorgeous hunk he’d ever laid eyes on. Did he dare? Did he dare let go one time in his life? How many opportunities would he have to make love to someone like Aaron?

“You still there?”

“Yeah.”

“You chicken? You don’t believe I’ll show up?”

“But why? Why do you want to…?”

“Could it be that I want to be with you?” His voice was soft suddenly. “Could it be that I like you, find you attractive, fantasize about making love to you?”

Kendal swallowed. “It would just be for tonight because…well, it would just be sex, right?”

“It can be anything you want it to be.”

Kendal took a big breath. “Okay,” he said. “Got a pen?”