Tiger Lily: Part Three (35 page)

“Is the book mostly about your life, going up the ranks?” I asked.

“Partly. Along with some of the things I have learned that would hopefully benefit those who want to grow their business. Some of the passages are taken from some of my presentations I’ve given over the years, too,” he answered. Filling a loofah with a lily scented scrub, he washed over my body without hesitation or question. I yielded, surrendering to his will. And once again, my insides warmed at the tender glide of his hands as they took loving possession of me. It was as if he wanted me to know just how much he honored having me as his own.

When he was done, I sought to do the same and we exchanged places. I put my feelings in my actions, and again, seeing the joy on his face made my heart constrict. I wanted to keep the happiness on his face forever. He turned his head, but I cupped his face, moving it back to me. His eyes shimmered and he shook his head. I pressed my lips to his and said, “I love you so much.” Taking his hand, I climbed out. We didn’t speak as we dried off, but we both knew where we wanted to go together next. So hand-in-hand, we stood and went into the bedroom.

Jonas moved ahead of me and pulled back the mesh curtain. I crawled on the bed and laid on my side, waiting for him to follow. Our eyes found each other and the world stood still, as if it was giving us a chance to capture the moment. I took it frame by frame in my head and heart.

“I love you,” Jonas said and kissed me. My heart expanded so much I was overcome. He had shown me his love in many ways, but hearing his profession meant more. It was a balm that soothed the abrasions on my soul, the deep parts where I felt left behind, lost and alone. Unloved.

“You’re mine,” he said, adding on another layer of protection. I absorbed his words and his meaning. I was his to love. I was his to keep.

I wanted him now. I wanted him forever. I went into his arms. “My beautiful Tiger Lily. Whatever you want, it’s yours,” he said.

“You,” I answered without hesitation.

“You have me,” he said quietly and kissed me passionately on the lips.

Laying me back, Jonas went slow, kissing over my face and down to the hollow base at my neck. Filling his hands with my breasts. Light teases with his fingers, tender tugs on the taut peaks of each nipple. I moaned softly as my body heated and I arched into his caresses, my hands petting his dark silky hair. I followed the line of his beautiful sculpted cheekbones and placed my hands on the stubble on the sides of his face as he sweetly suckled and cherished me. His touches were like a message to my skin.
You are precious. You are loved.

Jonas kissed over the curve of my hips. My eyelids fluttered, my chest rising and falling. He looked up the line of my body at me and I spread my legs right under his gaze. Once more, the pleasure of my response was evident on his face, but he went further and said, “I love that you have become comfortable with me.”

I smiled down at him. I could see he was aroused by a glance in his eyes. The set of his jaw. His erect cock. But there was more. We had built this intimacy together. I was certain he wanted me.

He nuzzled the smooth skin at the top of my mound and a tingle went through me. He moaned as he slowly licked up and down my slit, then gently with his fingers he opened me wider and rolled his tongue around my clit. I shook as I tried to remain still, wanting nothing to stop the glorious sensation of his mouth on me. He paused and lifted my fingers and kissed their tips, then placed them on his head.
I love you
, I mouthed.

“I know,” Jonas said and went back to pleasuring me. I gripped his head as he lapped through my slick folds and suctioned my clit. He was right where I wanted him and I broke apart, crying out as I came fast. But a taste wasn’t enough for Jonas. He was there to consume. He added two fingers and struck the spot that had me coming again.

“I can’t take more,” I hissed, twisting away as my muscles contracted over and again. The dark look on his face let me know he was up for the challenge.

Jonas kissed my thigh. “Come back over here.” His deep tone worked as its own aphrodisiac. I moved back and gapped my thighs the way I knew he wanted me to.

He kissed each thigh and started all over again, this time pushing me right over into madness. I came and wanted away. But the second he was gone, I wanted him back. Jonas met both with love. He pushed me over the edge just to catch me. He had the skill and confidence, but he still studied every quiver and tremor in my body. He loved and cared enough to try to find more ways of pleasuring me.

With that thought, I cried out his name, writhing as he fucked me with his tongue. When I came down, this time, he slid his body up mine and kissed my damp forehead.

“Seeing you come is addicting.” Then, examining my face, he offered, “I can wait until later if you are too tired.” His words ignited me once again. Truly, I couldn’t get enough of him.

I gripped his firm ass. “I need you,” I rasped.

He kissed me tenderly, stroking his tongue against mine. Giving me a taste of myself. I felt his need too. He rolled on his back and, while I wanted to take my time, I knew Jonas wasn’t one to enjoy waiting. I laved over the head of his cock and sucked it in my mouth, tasting his pre-cum. He was throbbing in my hands, vibrating with need. And I sought to sate him, gliding him across my tongue to the back of my throat.

He gripped my head, stilling me, and let out a loud moan. From there, he set the rhythm and I aimed to please. My mouth moving up and down his cock. Stroking and squeezing his sacs until his breath was jagged and he asked me to stop. I still couldn’t help but add a few licks and strokes with my hands.

Jonas kissed me and moved us to our sides and we faced each other. He lifted my thigh and I wrapped it around his back. He moved his leg between mine and with a long, deep thrust of his cock, we were pressed together. We looked at each other and an electric current surged through my body. Our bond.

This close, it was like we were molded to each other. Our hips grinding against each other. He gripped my ass and I held him tighter as we reached and took our bliss. We cried out as we erupted, clinging to each other. We gasped for air with our foreheads touching, our hearts hammering in our chests, neither one of us wanting to let go. Trying to stretch the moments of ecstasy into the infinite.

It was Jonas who finally broke us apart with a tender kiss on my lips. I turned over and he spooned me and we rested together.

I woke up on the bed tangled up in the sheets sometime later to find Jonas sketching. “What are you working on there?” I asked.

“My favorite muse.” He said, lifting the paper for me to see. It was of me sleeping on the lounge.

“Should I stay still?” I asked.

“No,” he replied, placing his work down as he stood. “I can get back to it later. I thought this was a good time to get back to things that we enjoy, though. I haven’t sketched since the hotel, but I’m hoping to do more when we return. There are things in the bag, too. Music, books.”

I got up and padded over to the bag and found a bikini to put on. I started putting my clothes away in the dresser and a couple of dresses in the closet. When I got to the bottom, I discovered the paperback
Peter Pan
from the bedside table.

“You brought this?” I gave him a wistful smile and walked over and sat on the bed.

“Yes. I had hoped we could continue before…” Jonas paused.

“Before what happened at the prison,” I finished for him. “I was devastated about the book, but some good happened there too. I’m happy it’s over and thankful you were there with me.”

He put his sketchpad down and crawled on the bed with me. “I agree. You were brave, strong, and gracious. I was grateful to witness your triumph.”

“Hardly a triumph after what happened with Heather,” I said. My voice caught.

“I’m sorry. I know how much the book meant to you,” Jonas said, rubbing my hip.

“When he took it—it broke my heart. I thought it was my fault. I was always talking about my parents and how much it meant to me,” I said. My voice graveled.

“And there was nothing wrong with you doing that. You shared your feelings with someone that you cared for,” he said, stroking the side of my face. “I know I was engrossed when you told me about it.”

I ran my tongue over my lips. “On the first night I stayed with you at the hotel. You were nosing through my stuff.” I let out a dry laugh.

“Yes, and you told me about your nickname and your parents. How the story inspired you to keep alive their legacy through the art program.”

He moved on to his back and I shifted around to look at him. “When I realized we couldn’t find it, I thought reading the story with me in the loft would help you.”

I snuggled closer to him. “It did help. I thought a lot about you reading the book to me in the loft.”

He traced my jawline with the tips of his fingers. “Your book inspired me to add it to the fundraiser gala last month.”

“I thought you put my program in the gala to win me back,” I mused.

He kissed my smile. “Giving you things doesn’t win you over. You wanted me.”

“I wanted you and your love,” I admitted.

He tilted my face up and gazed into my eyes. “You have both.” He kissed me passionately then got up from the bed.

“The book is more than a possession and I’m grateful that I have the good memories. I know they will never be taken away from me.”

“This is the perfect time. I have something for you,” he stood up and walked out of the room, winking at me as he said, “Be right back.”

He came back moments later with a case, which he sat down facing away from me.

“You binding me again?” I joked.

He gave me a salacious look. “If you’re good. You enjoyed that as much as I did.”

I grinned and didn’t deny it. I hadn’t been up for it at first, but I wouldn’t be opposed if he wanted to try it again.

“Not this time.” He handed me a beautifully wrapped medium-sized box. I jokingly shook it. It didn’t rattle. I tore it open, and my heart stopped
. Peter and Wendy by J.M. Barrie 1911.

It wasn’t the same as the one my father given me. This was a first edition. “Jonas. This is too much. I can’t—”

“You will. I’ve inscribed this copy so you will have to keep it,” Jonas said. My hands trembled as I opened the book and read Jonas’s inscription.

To my Tiger Lily,

May you forever share your story and inspire generations to come.

I love you,

Jonas Crane

I gingerly placed it down and threw my arms around his neck. “Oh, Jonas. I love it. I love you. Thank you so much.”

He hugged me back. “I love you, too.”

“It’s so…wow,” I admired when we parted. I carefully lifted it and placed it delicately back in the box, to his amusement. “I’m going to have to put it in a locked display case.”

“It’s meant to be read,” Jonas said, the side of his mouth turning up.

“It will be,” I assured. He had given me a new book, but it was much more than that. He’d given me a new story that would be added to my others. Truly, I knew now the life I shared with my parents and the inspiration they gave to me was much more powerful than the physical book. While it was destroyed, it would remain in my heart and live on for those I shared it with. It may even inspire their lives or help others, like it did for Jonas and me.

“I’d like to read to you, if you don’t mind,” I said shyly.

“Are you sure you’re ready?” he asked cautiously.

“Yes. I am,” I said, and I believed I was. I wanted to move forward and go on. “How about at that little hut?” I said, pointing.

“I’ll bring out our lunch,” Jonas said and kissed me.

I met Jonas out by the small table near a silk-strung hut and ate the light lunch he produced. Afterwards, we crawled on the daybed inside of the tent and looked out over the sea. Then, with Jonas’s arms wrapped around me, I took a deep breath and started reading the book from the beginning.

The sun was warm and we took a dip in the pool to cool off after an hour or so, only to rest again together inside. I was roused later by music. Beethoven’s “Appassionata.” It was evening and the room was casted in the soft light of candles. I sat up and looked out at the beach. The sky was filled with blues and whites.

I was about to get up and search for Jonas when I found a sketch of me sleeping propped up alongside a note.
Dinner in an hour. Beach formal.

I rose and picked a pretty white cotton sleeveless dress from the closet and changed into it. I was brushing my hair back when Jonas appeared dressed in open-collared white linen shirt and tailored trousers. His full lips were turned up in a smile. “Ready?” I put the brush down and hugged him. “What’s that for?” he asked.

“For everything.” I said. “Thank you for this vacation.”

“You look beautiful,” Jonas said. He took my hand and led me out to the deck that was now lit by candle lights. A table set for two awaited us, with tiger lilies around a fluted ornate candle in the center. He held out my chair.

I melted.
It’s like a dream
. “This is so beautiful,” I prattled.

Jonas sat down and lifted his glass. “A toast from Voltaire. Love is a canvas furnished by nature and embroidered by imagination. I borrow this evening as an expression of the love I have for you, Tiger Lily.” The sound of Beethoven’s “Pathetique” played in the background as the wait staff came out with our grilled seafood and fresh salad platter. “I knew I was in trouble the second you walked into Sir Harry’s.”

“When I threw my handbag at you?” I teased and sipped my champagne.

“Good. You admit it now,” he said and we laughed. “I knew you were special that night.”

“I was nervous. You’re intimidating,” I said. “But you kissed me.”

“You wanted that kiss,” Jonas said confidently.

“Yes, I did,” I admitted. “I knew I would fall in love with you, but you wanted a companion.”

“I wasn’t looking to get hurt again,” Jonas said. “Then you left and that was hard because I missed you. I was alone.” I took his hand and squeezed it. “I tried to move on like Dani did after our divorce. But I found you weren’t replaceable. You were more than sex. You were kind, sincere, open, and loving. You were irreplaceable, unforgettable.”