Divine Liaisons (4 page)

A growl buffers my ear, “You have a date with destiny. Behind that black curtain.”

It happens so fast, swept up in an iron grip, he hoists me into his arms, crossing the den in seven strides, snatching back the curtain; dumping me onto a bed. It's peripheral it happens so fast.

And then he's on me, pushing me into comforting folds, pressing hard against me, his knee between mine, lifting my shirt, devouring my mouth.

Chapter 5

Blindfolded with the way he's pulled my shirt up, shock sends a sharp reflex through me when his mouth closes over a nipple. Imprisoned inside sleeves and shirt, he keeps pushing them up, so he can see my eyes. Now I'm rightly stuck, trying to push my shirt off with my arms, above my head, but he just leans on both wrists in a hand, watching me with a wicked chuckle.

“Not so fast, ohpitsa.”

His smile is feral, lowering his head back to my lips. The raw power in his kiss saps me.

Surrendering against the impossible odds, I mumble when he withdraws, “Ohpitsa?”

“
I suppose you'd rather I call you, sugar?”

“
Sugar is sweet, but ohpitsa sounds like you're putting a spell on me.”

He leans in, his breath coming in laughing gusts; it's hot, like mirage on rock.

“It means sweetheart.”

“
It does?”

“
We're in Apache country sugar, ohpitsa is Apache for sweetheart.”

“
Oh,” is swallowed inside his mouth, while his hands wrap my long sleeve shirt tighter around my wrists. This isn't fair!

Straddling my hips, he yanks off his shirt, tossing it behind him. This is what heaven's army looks like. Impossibly wide, impossibly defined, incredibly powerful.

Giddy, completely distracted from extricating myself from my top, I stare.

Shadows slide down deep ridges between muscles, undulating when he moves. Hard steps pave his body below his chest, to a perfect V rising from his groin to his lats, like two rods coming out his jeans.

Watching me with sharp eyes, he backs off me slowly. Satisfied I'm not about to untangle his knotwork, he unbuttons my jeans, sliding them down my legs, pulling them off with my shoes in one easy snap.

The air breathes goosebumps over my skin, and I'm watching the lats running down his sides widening when he pulls his own jeans off, commando underneath. It takes him all of ten seconds to get out of his clothes, and my heart is now blocking my throat completely.

Terrified, fascinated, I watch him prowl back over me; sheer lace is all that stands between us, and what looks like the promise of pain mixing a cocktail with pleasure.

God, that's the biggest, hardest, manly muscle I've seen. I can't look, staring into his eyes, staring into mine, his expression is serious.

Closing my eyes, forcing myself to breathe, I'm a butterfly with her wings pinned.

Thighs the width of my hips slide over mine, staking a knee between my legs. Slipping over me, skin on skin, it's luxurious and tantalizing. Hands run over me, up, and down, scalding lips touch my left nipple. He's hotter than Arizona in drought season; we don't need a fire in here, his temperature is soaring.

The moist touch of his tongue circles it. Suctioned into his mouth, velvet nicks over it, again and again, taunting my g-spot when it whips a path deep through my body. Erupting with shudders, craving pools her slippery kiss between my legs. I open my eyes, looking up at the hooded ceiling. Flames make shadow phantoms, licking each other, sliding together, drawing apart, like a staccato tango.

It happens so fast, I yelp. I'm flipped over onto my stomach.

No escaping now.

His strong fingers hook my hips, pulling them off the bed, and my underwear is gone. Feeling naked and exposed, I hide my face in my arm. Wanting it desperately, but fighting the nun in my head, telling me this is how good girls get into trouble.

I'm so wanton, it's almost painful. And to make things worse, I'm the only one with deep breathing. It's all I can hear.

Pushing his knee against the back of mine, he forces it up, my thigh at a lazy right angle to my hips now. Clenching, I move a hair's breadth away from the pressure against me.

Cloaking me with his body, an elbow depresses the ink linen next to my head, holding me in the prison of his legs and arms.

“
Ohpitsa, it's okay, I won't hurt you.”

That's easy for you to say.

But I can't speak, my breathing comes in whimpering waves. His voice is therapeutic, gliding between my vertebrae, teasing my spine the way his skin kisses against my back. Relaxing into the bed, I close my eyes, waiting.

His teeth nip my neck; a hand directs my leg further away, tilting my body. Without withdrawing the ecstasy in my neck, he lifts my hips again, aggressively thrusting the other leg up, pushing me into a cat stretch; I'm shocked forward, into my arms, when the touch of him cascades into me. I could cum right now, with him hardly breaching the sanctum.

My breath is wild, shaky, like my heartbeat.

“
Trust me.”

It's three octaves deeper, a purr, oddly safe, trustworthy.

Forcing myself to relax, he senses it. Teasing me, firm hands holding my hips, thumbs stretch me apart. The skin is taut, it rides my desire. Kneading his inflamed sex over my core, it pricks my arousal with sharp strokes.

Writhing closer, I want to feel him. I'm needy, a harsh ache deep inside is torturing me. Sinking his hips deeper, my breath hitches when my pulsating walls beat a heartbeat against his, an inch deep. Moaning, my hard nipples pine for rough hands. I want the savage. I want the storm to break free and wreak a hurricane path through me.

And in one swift thrust, I'm neck deep in sensation.

I thought it would hurt, it doesn't. Pausing, waiting for me to adjust, the twitch sends a warm buzzing of pleasure in every direction. Slowly sliding out, back in, my veins rush with blistering quicksilver, my blood frenzied, humming to every pore, every synapse, it's complete obliteration. I'm pure sensation, I can feel nothing else, and I never want to again.

The raw music sets a pounding beat around the room, siphoning a primal pulse out of me, from him, he's a piston inside me, firing all cylinders at once.

Pressure points carve filigree under my skin, indelible, white hot poison, spreading like a virus, coding itself into every cell, in a blackout surge of incinerating fire.

When my euphoric cry hides in linen folds, a roar shimmies off the walls.

It's a battle cry, the roar of a beast claiming his mate. Guitar riffs singe the air, throaty, grungy, gruff, hard, titillating; like the man now kissing my nape, scarring my skin with hot strokes of short stubble. Still convulsing hard girth behind my navel; every twitch a knife plunging euphoria into my soul.

Overwhelmed, coming down from soaring high, I'm rearranged. Catching my breath; jolted back to here and now, he dives back inside me. Staring into his shoulder, cords of muscle tense in his arms, bracing him. An impatient hand tugs the shirt off my wrists.

I'm on a seesaw, up - down, up – down, oversensitive; he's unnaturally scorching, radiating heat at me, into me, through me; his scent fills my lungs; wind, desert, fire, summer, the promise of rain on a dusty day. His smell is so earthy, so unnaturally comforting, I can't inhale enough. Running my tongue across his skin, he tastes like just burnt sugar.

Curling my legs around him, wrapping arms so my hands can glide over his back, he reacts, arching, hunting deeper, shooting lightning so powerful, the room swirls in my vision – my orgasm pounds bullets to my fingertips, bursting out through nipples, sparkles dance before my eyes. I'm numb in my toes and fingers. I can't feel my heart beating. I'm dead. He killed me with pleasure.

The rumble of his roar wriggles inside my chest, like a kitten curling up, snuggling tight. It's precious.

I'm still waiting for my vision to return. Really powerful orgasms leave me blind. The longest I've had is two minutes, and a strange fear pierces inside. This was a volcano of furious passion, I could be blind for the rest of my life.

Riding me again, cruising hard and deep, ruthless and desperate, my insides are on fire, strumming my soul with blunt fingers of sheer paradise. Chaffing my thighs, our bodies connect with a panicked shluck, adding a crescendo to the music.

Clenching, my body kisses back, hot and wet, coating with another uncontrollable stuttering. I must have been holding my breath, vertigo gyrates my senses.

Arched like a tense bowstring, he's so rigid, it tugs my navel; a detonation so deep inside me, with his powerful body ripping through mine. Reacting, I sink fingertips into his back, holding on for dear life, afraid to move. It's a sharp fist of pain before my dormant pleasure seeps back up to reclaim my body.

“You're incredible,” whispers in my ear.

I'm afraid when I can't see. I still can't feel my toes.

His smooth chest grazes my nipples, he's still deeper than deep inside me, his hand wrapping into my hair, moving my head to taste my neck with breeze soft kisses.

He pauses, “Say something. Are you okay?”

I try, but my breath is spurred in my throat, so I nod.

“
Look at me.”

I can't. I still have celestial fireworks blinding me. It's like staring at the sun, you can't see when you look back at something else.

My breathing is unstable, wild.

“
Sarah?”

Swallowing against a dry mouth, I whimper, “I'm fine.”

“Fine?”

He pauses, that was an insult if he ever heard one. Nice going Sarah.

“Look at me.” This time it's a command.

“
Better than fine. I can't see. I'll look at you in a minute.”

His body divorces mine, immovable fingers hold my jaw, swiveling my head, his breath washing into me again, tingling its way deep inside, my body sings her response. Whispering more more more. Again. Again.

His long lean body lines mine, and I'm drawn against him, held tight to his, wrapped in comfort. Kissing my forehead, he just holds me. My insides are purring; languid, lazy, weak.

It's like ears popping at altitude, it's a sudden rush when my sight comes back, and it seems too dark, the room too full of snooping shadows.

Looking up, I stare into his eyes.

“
Your eyes are like sunlight dancing off water,” he says softly.

Wow, so Mr Tough has a poet's soul. And he's a screamer. No wonder he has his love-nest in the basement.

It makes me smile.

“
That's better.” He smiles back, it's gentle. “Tell me you're okay?”

“
If I was any better, I'd be floating on moonlight.”

His laugh jiggles me, it's abrasive; his voice is pure sandpaper polishing crystal.

“Ecstasy is addictive, didn't your mama warn you not to take it?”

Pain nooses my heart at those words. It plunges cold hard reality through my euphoria.

“Ecstasy is older than tablets, it's what makes life worth living.” Reading the pain in my eyes, his deepen like twilight. “It's okay, baby. I don't think you're a quick take-out.”

Dipping his head, he traces a possessive tongue over my lips, pressing his mouth onto mine, his tongue flicking mine, then he's holding my head hard to his, his breathing demanding, devouring my mouth.

He's as unpredictable and capable as that car of his. His fingers dig into my waist, pressing me tight into his stubborn strength. He makes me feel tiny. I'm 5 ft 7, but right now I'm a flower fairy.

Axing us apart abruptly, he pushes fingers through his short hair, “I'm – you...”

His smile is rogue, and shy. His expression is so sweet and happy.

“
You're different. It makes me a little crazy.”

I can't help but smile at the confession, and his expression.

“If that's crazy, book me into the sanitarium. I could use a little crazy. And if the drug your body offers is ecstasy, I think I'm already your addict. Just open my vein and do that again.”

His smile is rascal, and smug. “I didn't hurt you?” His tone is worried, he needs reassurance.

“Na-uh. I think I never want to leave.”

Passion flickers through his eyes.

He moves away from me, sitting up, caressing a hand down the side of my face, down my neck, moving to rest on my stomach, “You need a drink. Hell, I need a drink.”

And he's gone, one more shadow skimming through the room. It's strangely cold without him. And I'm still horny.

Chapter 6

He returns with a different bottle of alcohol, and the serrano chili we brought home.

“
Keep still,” he says, a smile tugging his lips, making them fuller and sensual.

Uncorking Del Maguey tequila, he pours it into my navel. It's cold, coursing shivers through me. Catching my cold nipple in his mouth, the heat relaxes it, before he nips it back to stark relief. Chuckling to himself, he works his way back down to my navel.

This is going to be an all nighter, I can tell.

Sucking the warmed alcohol into his mouth, he looks up, staring deeply into my eyes.

“Your turn,” and he slumps heavily next to me, giving me the bottle.

My legs tremble a little, and I simply sit next to him, too weak to balance myself over him.

Carefully tipping the liquid ice, I watch it curl around muscles to gather in the gully between his six pack, flowing to pool in his navel. I wish we could catalogue moments like this. So we could watch them again and again.

Running the tip of my tongue where it flowed, I retrace its steps, pressing lips around the hollow, sipping in sharp tequila.

His breath sucks in, turning him into rugged edges.

Swallowing, I lift my head to stare down into his face.

Lifting a handful of hair, he watches it fraying into strands, flowing back to settle over my shoulder.

“
Your hair is like tortoiseshell. Golden highlights with deeper tones of light and dark brown.”

Sitting up suddenly, he snatches the bottle and takes a gulp, using his free hand to cup my head to his face. Forcing his mouth over mine, hot tequila gushes into my mouth, eye to eye, breath to breath, synchronized swallowing, his tongue traces my lips again.

“Your lips were made for my body.” Running his thumb over my mouth, his breathing is juddery, “Soft, warm, fucking sexy.”

Before I can react, he's off the bed, scooping me and the bedding up. It leaves my heart pounding. He's totally unpredictable. Then he's laying me down in front of the hearth; I'm already feeling the heat of the flames. He strides away, leaving the lyrics to croon sultry tones into this cocoon, soothing my fright.

Returning with pillows, he puts two behind me, then bunches a pile of them under his side, laying next to me with his head propped on his hand.

In this light I can see he hasn't even broken a sweat. Hungry eyes roam over my body before settling on my mouth. Reaching behind me, he picks up the tub of chili, opening it between our stomachs, using a serrano to paint my lips.

“I want to watch you eating something hot.” He licks his lips, transfixed on my mouth and the chili.

It leaves a tingling spicy trail over my lips, and I'm forced to lick them. He uses the moment to press the tip into my mouth.

“Suck,” he orders.

Fighting a giggle, I wrap my lips around it, closing my eyes when he slowly drags it in and out through my lips. It pulls out, replaced with his tongue, tasting the heat stain left behind.

“You're going to break me,” mumbles when he hovers his mouth over mine.

“
I think you've got that the wrong way round.”

Sinking his body heavily onto me, giddy apprehension flirts with my sex. Running my palms over bulging triceps, I enjoy the  texture of his skin. Roaming, caressing muscles I didn't even know we could develop, I stare at the bulges pumped out on either shoulder, amazed that someone so strong, can be so smooth and silky.

“No ohpitsa, you're like a scorpion sting. You're so tiny, but deadly. The only thing that cures it is another shot of poison.”

He's announcing his next move. Amber light paints half his face into silhouette when he parts my legs with his own.

Closing my eyes, lazy in the heat from the hearth, oddly safe and secure with a man so massive, he invades, licking his sex deep inside me, slipping to his base, body tight against body, skating his hot erection over delicate skin, sweetly plunging my body back into a headrush.

“
I want to hear you scream.”

It's a low murmur, a subliminal whisper behind crackling flames and music.

Swirling, stirring, tickling, teasing, he grinds his hips until my arms are shaking where they clutch around his neck. It's slow, unhurried, like nappa leather around a handcuff. Hiding the bite, the strength; he takes my body up in slow motion. Tensing, quivering, gasping my orgasm into his ear; he starts syringing again, licking deep.

Savoring my body sucking around him, his body french-kisses mine like a connoisseur. Skidding deep, hold your breath deep, and with aching sensitivity, pulling out again with acute slowness. At times hesitant, like a chameleon in motion, rocking back and forth before choosing a direction. Tensing, I hook him each time he gets too close to complete withdrawal, coaxing him back to languidly sheath his heat, deep; so hard, so hard everywhere, but so gentle; thoughtful. He's not a selfish lover. Hiccuping his rhythm, he delves for the antivenin to cure my sting.

Opening my eyes, he's watching me, it's soul soft, raw, unveiled Dustin. No games. This is a man branding his mark on my spirit. It's such an intense gaze, showing a kaleidoscope of need, desire, fear, lust, and that same possessiveness, it ices my chest.

Glossing my insides with the salve from his body, it's a gentle orgasm, no roaring, just a thudding of his heart where his chest presses into me. He kept his eyes open, hooking himself deep into my heart, his eyes so achingly vulnerable and 'pure'. A rush of emotion, deeply soul kissed, my eyes sting with the unshed beauty I witnessed.

“You didn't scream.”

It's accusing.

“I rarely do. I'm more of a gasping sigh kinda gal.”

“
Give me time, I'll find a way to tear you out of prison.”

What an odd thing to say.

He's resting his hips on me now, gazing with delicate penetration into my eyes, every so often darting to my lips.

Rolling us, facing each other on our sides, he shoves the chili out of the way, working an arm behind me, making me rest my head on his bicep.

His free hand glides to hold my breast, “I see it, you don't. You've been behind bars for too long.”

“
What are you talking about?”

“
You don't surrender to a moment completely. You hold a piece of yourself back. You've forgotten what freedom tastes like. So you no longer miss it. You are in a prison, one you made, but if you give me time, I'll help you run free.”

He
is
free, he tastes like freedom. An ache rolls in my chest.

Hot lips tenderly brush mine, “I'll never hurt you.”

It's a reassurance. One I've heard a thousand times. Hand over your heart so I can grind it into compost. He believes every word he's saying. I don't.

God alone knows how he did it, but he stands, still deep in me, holding me under my thighs, maneuvering me onto an arm, resting a steadying hand on my spine, he starts walking to the steps.

“Where are we going?”

“
Shower.”

Oh lordy, I'm going to be crawling in my front door when I get home.

Walking with my hair wet, I'm trying to push up the sleeves on the sweater he gave me to wear. He's massive, and I feel like a two year old walking in mama's shoes. I'm drowning in soft fleece.

Bunching the material, I cover my face, inhaling deeply. It smells like him, and fresh laundry smell. There is something so special about the first moment your love interest gives you his clothing to wear. You never want to take it off. It's like standing in his arms, warm and comforting, while the wind gales around you, but in here you're safe, cherished, warm and cuddly.

His arm wraps around my shoulders, encouraging me to walk, “Come on, let's get a drink and go back to the fire.”

I'm clean, and cozy-warm, my body feels like it's had a thousand-year massage, it's so relaxed and happy. My cheeks are still glowing. But wrapped in his scent, his fleece, wearing his freshly laundered white socks, I am guided to a big kitchen.

Leaving me at the threshold, he fetches two bottles from the fridge, coming back and lacing his fingers through mine.

His smile down at me is full of promise, secrets, happiness. He lifts my hand and kisses it softly. Led back down marble steps into a drowsy hot room still dancing with flames and shadows; I bet this room has lots of secrets.

“Hold these,” he gives me the beers. Taking them, I watch him cross the room, opening a closet and pulling out a long rolled up futon mattress.

Those things are damn heavy, I had one once, and gave it up because I was just too slight to move it much. But in his hands it may as well be a scarf. Unrolling it in front of the fire, dumping the bedding back on top, he beckons a hand at me.

Stepping forward, he grabs me, tackling me onto it. My surprised laughter joins his. He's smiling widely at me now, his strong arm still around me.

“
You're one addictive cutie.” He gives me a soft kiss before taking the bottles out of my hand. The neckline on this is wide, and my shoulder is naked, it draws his eyes. “God you're beautiful.”

“
Keep taking your medication, it works wonders.”

“
You think I'm sweetening you up?”

“
I just think you could have Miss Universe if you wanted to. I'm not in that category.”

“
Women are so full of issues. There's more to beauty than a trunk of make-up and a crown.”

Tilting my head, I watch the fire slip golden fingers over his irises.

He takes my silence for argument.

“
I'm an earth spirit, Sarah. I like my ladies to be as wet as a mountain lake, and as resourceful as a tornado. Wind cannot be captured or seen, but you feel it just the same. You are wind, sugar. Hot wind. It warms the blood, and blows gentle and hard, unpredictable. That's beauty.”

I've got that squeeze in my chest again, I'm feeling appreciated and adored. I want to stay here, forever, and ever.

Dipping his head to kiss the shoulder that keeps drawing his gaze, he drops the bottles in a clink next to my ear, running his hand up my thigh, under the sweater, cupping my breast.

“
Blow me away. You're a free spirit desperate to run wild.”

Running my hands over his strength, I cup his head, silently asking him to look up, lifting his head, I tense my muscles, lifting my head to meet his, sucking his bottom lip into my mouth.

Pulling away, he picks up the bottles, “You're playing with fire, you need rest before you tease me again.”

“
Blame me,” I kid.

It's said with a smile.

But his expression is dangerous, heated. I believe it. One stray spark and this boy is going to turn into a runaway wildfire; burning me up, burning me out.

My open Coors is offered to me.

Pushing onto an elbow, I take it, sipping. I'm thirstier than I realised, taking deep pulls.

His laughter wraps loving warmth around me, “Steady on, girl.”

Putting it down behind the pillows, I watch him flatten his.

Rolling the bottle away, he snatches me to him, turning me, pressing my body to melt against and coat his. Pulling the duvet up to cover my legs, he lays his head on pillows, tucking me closer under his chin.

Staring into the blue flames hugging low in the grate, I'm happy. Really, truly, inside out, deliriously happy. It's a perfect night in an imperfect world. His arm tightens, it's a haven.

Closing my eyes, I'm wrapped in fleece, heat, safe. Hot breathing ruffles my hair, it's deep and sleepy. Resting my arm over his, hugging it to me, I fall asleep nestled against a rock of love.