by B. Avery
Carmine raked her gaze over him, a saucy smile gracing her lips, “Oh, I don't know about that.”
His body was taking a decided interest in her words, but as soon as he shifted his back spasmed again, the ice pack starting to slip. “Now, stop that,” she chided, replacing it, “You have to sit still.”
“I can hardly take advantage of you if I do that,” he pointed out, deciding that some things were far more important than a little bit of pain.
Carmine slapped his hand away from her breast and waved her finger in his face, “I said stop.” She grinned at him mischievously as she slid off the bed, “Sit still or I'll stop.”
“Stop what? Oh,” The noise he made was a breathless sigh as she rolled her shoulders and let the loose button down shirt slip off her shoulders, leaving her clad in her jeans and camisole. She played with the hem of the camisole as she swayed her hips, teasing him. Although her movements were slightly awkward, she never took her eyes off of him, and the smile in her eyes was more of a turn-on than a thousand strip teases. “Very nice, love,” he said huskily, as she dragged the camisole off over her head, leaving him to admire her figure in her simple white bra.
By the time she'd gotten herself out of the rest of her clothes, he was panting, his fingers clenching and unclenching in the comforter to keep himself from reaching for her. She'd threatened to stop if he moved, and that was the last thing he wanted her to do. Enthralled, he watched as she climbed onto the bed, curling up unselfconsciously at the foot.
He watched in disbelief as she sat up on her knees and ran her hands over her body, sweeping them over her chest and down her thighs as he stared at her with his mouth hanging open. “Carmine!”
With a mischievous smile she cupped her breasts in her hands, and he nearly bit through his tongue. “You like to watch, don't you?” she purred, and he'd never heard her sound like that. He'd never heard any woman sound like that.
He nodded, swallowing hard, “Yeah.”
Her sweet smile was at odds with her next actions as she brushed her thumbs over her nipples, her head falling back with a soft moan. “Watch me.”
If she'd threatened him with hellfire and the councilor, he couldn't have taken his eyes off of her as she fondled herself, making the same little noises he'd become so addicted to during their first time together. “Carmine...”
She shushed him, then gasped as she pinched her nipple between thumb and forefinger, and Smith was ready to climb out of his skin. “Please, love.”
“Please, what?” she asked, her eyes fluttering open to look at him. Her smile was wicked as she slid one hand down her body to run her fingers through her delicate curls. “Please do this?”
A truly pathetic whimper escaped his throat as she dipped her hand lower, her eyes sliding shut again as she brushed the sweet bud between her thighs. Smith clawed at the bed, wanting only to pounce on her, claim her, make her his again.
“That's good,” she whispered, leaning back a little to give him a better view as she slid a finger into her hot depths.
His agonized growl was barely human. “Please,” he begged again, teeth bared, “Please let me do it.”
Carmine ignored him, adding another fingers to her ministrations, and it was all he could do to keep from lunging at her. “Carmine. Let me do that for you, love. Let me touch you.”
“I'd rather touch you,” she replied, pulling her fingers out of herself and crawling up the bed toward him, carefully not touching him. She held her fingers out toward him, and he took them in his mouth at once, lapping and sucking, determined not to miss any bit of her sweetness.
Before he was ready to release her, Carmine reclaimed her hand and reached down, easing his boxers down over his throbbing length. She licked her lips as she looked down at him with nervous eyes, and he suddenly realized what she was planning. “Love, you don't- don't have to,” he tried to say, but she just rolled her eyes, then lowered her head to trace her tongue over him.
He groaned like she was killing him and dropped his head back against the headboard with an audible crack. Carmine glanced up, startled, then went back to what she'd been doing, licking him like an ice cream cone. Smith tangled his fingers in her hair, not guiding, not forcing, just needing the weight of her curls to remind him that this was real, not just another dream that would leave him panting and aching for her when he awoke all too soon.
Her licks and touches were experimental, and he tried to reward her with noises of pleasure when she did something particularly wonderful, but Carmine was sucking his fucking cock, and everything was blurring together into a haze of bliss. He had enough sanity left to tug on her hair and try to get her off of him before he came in her mouth, but she just dug her fingers into his hip and sucked harder, and he was lost.
He came with a hoarse shout, hips jerking uncontrollably despite his best efforts not to choke her, and Carmine rode out the spasms with him, her mouth never leaving him as she gentled her touch into long, languid strokes with her tongue. Once he'd stopped shaking, she lifted her head, blushing to the roots of her hair as she admitted, “I've been wanting to try that.”
Smith yanked her into his arms, kissing her forehead, her hair, anything he could reach as she buried her face against his shoulder. “I guess I did alright?” she squeaked, and he groaned.
“Damn near killed me, love.” She lifted her head for a kiss, and he seized her lips, the taste of himself in her mouth leaving him light-headed.
She grinned, looking proud at her achievement, and he couldn't help but laugh at her enthusiasm. With a scolding shake of her head, she replaced the ice pack that had been knocked aside during the proceedings. “How's your back?”
“I could run a marathon,” he informed her, and he meant every word. Carmine was far more effective than any pain medication. He smirked as he wondered if he could get Dr. Tucker to just prescribe her for his bad days.
From that point on, their carefully-constructed barriers started to break down. He stole kisses in the back room of the shop while customers milled in the front. She caressed his leg under the counter while he made deals. On slow nights they closed up early and carted a load of unwanted merchandise to his house, abandoning the boxes in the foyer in favor of a few precious hours in his bed. No one noticed a thing.
He wondered about the councilor sometimes. Her sharp eyes missed little, but she never said a word about Carmine during their always-tense conversations. There was never so much as a hint that she was suspicious, and since he'd never considered her subtle, he could only assume she was as oblivious as the rest of the town.
Carmine took their game to a dangerous new level one afternoon when she walked into the shop clad in her usual jeans and camisole, a black button down shirt replacing her traditional plaid. She looked lovely in black, the harsh shade setting off her porcelain skin to perfection, and he assumed that was responsible for the flutter in his stomach until she got a little closer, and he realized that the shirt she was wearing looked awfully familiar.
Carmine was dressed in his black dress shirt, the one he'd worn two days ago and she'd taken to be dry-cleaned like she'd been doing for as long as she'd been working for him. Apparently, she'd gotten sidetracked. The shirt was too big for her but not dramatically bigger than her usual shirts. Carmine was a tiny thing, but he was slightly-built too. No one would think it odd. No one would even notice.
Smith noticed though, and it was like she was wearing a sign proclaiming herself his. Catching her wrist, he dragged her into the back room, crowding her with his body until she was pressed up against the wall, looking up at him coyly through her eyelashes. “It smells like you,” she said huskily, “I wanted to smell you on me today.”
He groaned, crushing her mouth under his as he ran his hands over her, feeling her warm curves through his shirt. He pressed his leg between hers, and Carmine rocked her hips, careful not to put pressure on him and hurt his back as she rode his thigh, arching into him, her hands buried in his hair.
> Seeing his necklace on her was wonderful, but seeing her in his clothes was something else entirely. She should always wear his clothes, displaying his claim on her to the universe. Carmine should wear nothing but his clothes.
He wanted to yank off her jeans and camisole, leaving her standing before him in nothing but his shirt. He wanted to pin her against the wall and feel her legs wrapped around his waist as he fucked her to within an inch of her life, leaving her without a thought in her head except for his name. He cursed his back, but Carmine didn't give him time to come up with another option before she was shoving him away from her just long enough to reverse their positions, and now it was his turn to be trapped.
She rubbed him through his pants, and his hips bucked shamelessly, demanding her attention. Clever fingers went to work on his fly as he strained his neck to kiss her, but she evaded his mouth and dropped to her knees, a wicked smile on her face.
His mouth went dry at the sight of her, wearing his shirt, on her knees in front of him. “I've been wanting to do this all day,” she purred as she freed him, then licked him from root to tip, her tongue fluttering over the head in the way she knew drove him mad. She dipped her head, taking him as deep as she could, her hand squeezing the base of him as she hollowed her cheeks, and the sight alone was enough to drive him out of his mind.
He scrabbled at the wall with his short nails to keep from grabbing at her hair, knowing that has worked up as he was, he was sure to pull too hard. Carmine might have been on her knees, but she was the one with all the power here. She held his sanity in the palm of her hand, and he would give her the world if she'd just promise to always look at him with those happy, lust-filled eyes.
The blissful torture seemed to last for hours as she licked and sucked, bringing him to the brink of ecstasy before pulling back and teasing him with short little licks that just fanned the flames more. Finally, she took mercy on him, swirling her tongue around the head before sucking hard, and he came with a hoarse shout he barely had the presence of mind to muffle behind his hand. She drank him down, and the dazed look of pleasure in her eyes made him quake, his body doing its damnedest to orgasm twice in as many seconds.
He didn't quite manage it, nor did he manage to stay upright as her little pink tongue darted out to clean him off. His knees gave out, sending him sliding down the wall to collapse in her arms, caressing her with reverent hands. They remained in their blissful cocoon, trading kisses until the bell rang and Carmine went to deal with a customer, leaving him gazing after her in wonder and trying to remember where he'd put the ring he'd selected for her.
He didn't give it to her, not yet, but having the box in his pocket felt like a talisman, a reminder that she’d be his soon, and then he'd never have to watch her walk away from him again.
Letting her go home to got harder every evening and the knowledge that she’d have to return to college for her final semester was pure unadulterated torture, and he longed for the day she'd be his to keep. In the meantime, there were kisses and stolen moments and more happiness than Smith had ever expected to experience in his life all tied up in a perfect bundle crowned with bright blue eyes and chestnut curls. He loved her so much it made his throat ache.
The seasons changed and changed again as life moved along at its slow pace. He had his Carmine and his shop, and everything else was a blur until one day as he was returning from his rounds he bumped into a blond woman he'd never seen before. She was beautiful, if stand-offish, and he would have remembered her if she'd visited Bartley before. It was strange to see an unfamiliar face.
He watched the blond woman go, repeating her name to himself: Shauna Heron. There was something familiar there as if he was remembering her across years, but the woman wasn't old enough for him to have known at any point in his murky past. Deja vu, he diagnosed, but he couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to it.
“Who was that?” Carmine's voice came from behind him as she came out of the shop, craning her neck to get a look at the woman.
“Shauna Heron,” he repeated for her, watching her face carefully for any flash of recognition, but Carmine didn't seem any more familiar with her than he was.
“I thought I knew everyone in town,” she said curiously, “I don't remember her though.” Carmine's eyes widened, “I bet our councilor would love a stranger in our town.” She couldn't hide the glee in her voice at the thought.
He thumped her lightly on the nose, “Be nice,” he scolded, lowering his voice, “At least in public.”
With a wicked grin, she said in her most innocent tone, “Yes, Mr. Smith.” The contrast between her voice and the naughty look in her eye drove any thought of Shauna Heron out of his head, and he followed her into the shop with an eager step.
CHAPTER FIVE
Carmine wasn't quite as fond of the woman the next time she saw her.
“She's very pretty,” Carmine murmured, her voice mostly lost against his chest.
She was jealous, he realized after a moment of pure incomprehension. Unbelievable as it seemed, Carmine was jealous over him, and he couldn't hold back the satisfied smirk. Even so, he couldn't let her keep thinking whatever she was thinking. “She doesn't have blue eyes and chestnut curls and a smile that lights up a room. She doesn't make me laugh.”
She giggled a little, “I thought you said I wasn't the court jester.”
“No, you’re my apprentice,” he smiled. Miraculously, it seemed to be the right thing to say. Carmine relaxed in his arms, leaning up for a kiss he was more than happy to bestow.
Shauna Heron continued to not endear herself the next time they had cause to interact. She slammed into the shop one afternoon, calling his name before the door had even closed, “Hey, Smith?” Her eyes lit on Carmine who was in the process of dusting, and she gave a little nod of greeting.
“Carmine.” Reaching into her pocket, she withdrew her wallet, “Do me a favor and run down and get me a coffee from the bakery, would you? Get something for yourself too if you want.”
Carmine looked from Shauna to him, her face carefully composed, but he could read her offended posture clearly. He inclined his head, and her eyes narrowed at him, but she took the wallet and left the shop without a word. “I believe she's my assistant, not yours, Miss Heron,” he said calmly, concealing his own irritation.
The woman shrugged, “This is private. I want to show you something.”
There was no hint of seduction in her voice, but he was still relieved when she pulled a small watch out of her pocket and held it out to him, “What can you tell me about this?”
He examined the watch, recognizing it as a piece they'd sold to Steven Powell some time ago. Although he knew what she wanted, he couldn't bring himself to give it to her so easily. It was immature payback for her dismissal of Carmine, but he couldn't argue that it was satisfying to see the frustration in her eyes as he described the workmanship in excruciating detail.
“So, it's a piece you're familiar with,” she cut him off while he was pausing for breath, “Who'd you sell it to?”
He pulled out the box of cards that would give him that information, taking his time finding the appropriate one. “My assistant keeps the records,” he chided her, “It's a shame you sent her off.”
“You sold it years ago. Unless she's worked for you since she was in kindergarten, she wouldn't have kept this one,” Shauna told him flatly just as he withdrew the appropriate card written in Carmine's looping hand.
“Steven Powell,” he gave her the name she wanted, followed up by the address as he frowned down at the card. That was definitely Carmine's handwriting noting the buyer and purchase price. There was no date on the card, no dates on any of them, but it couldn't possibly have been that long ago. Maybe she'd gone through and recopied the records at some point. She'd certainly complained enough about his illegible handwriting to do so. Yet, he seemed to remember her being there when the sale was made.
Carmine made it back just in time to hand off Shauna's coff
ee before the woman took her leave of them, leaving him unsettled. She placed a pastry on the counter in front of him before shooting a glare at the woman's departing back. “What'd she want?”
“Do you remember us selling a watch?” he answered her question with one of his own.
She glanced down, searching her memory for a moment before her expression brightened, “To Steven Powell? The pretty one?”
“She wanted to know about that. Didn't say why.” Her interest in the watch didn't seem overly important. “How long ago was that?”
She shrugged, “A while ago. Does it matter?”
“No,” he tried to shake off the confusion, but something was nagging at him, “How long have you worked here, love?”
Carmine shot him a look full of concern, perhaps worrying that he was going senile. “A little over a year. You know that.”
He nodded slowly, “Right. I just.... can't remember a time you didn't work here.” He'd had the shop for years, yet he couldn't picture a time when he'd run it without her. Was that normal?
Her expression cleared, affection filling her eyes, “Can't imagine life without me?” she teased.
Perhaps that was it. She was such an integral part of his life that he couldn't fathom a time she wasn't. “Don't want to,” he shot back, leaning down to steal a quick kiss after checking no one was walking by. She tweaked his tie with a smile before she went back to dusting, and he shook his head, dismissing the nagging feeling that something odd was happening. Odd things had been happening ever since Shauna Heron showed up.
****
Carmine filled him in on the latest gossip during their teatime the following day.
Mid-chatter, a strange expression flitted over her face as though an unsettling thought had just occurred to her. “What, love?” he prompted, but she shook her head.
“Nothing. Just thinking,” she dismissed, draining her cup and placing it in the sink. “I'd better get back to work.”
He didn't press her, going back to his own repairs, but his eyes kept straying toward the main room of the shop which was strangely silent. Carmine usually hummed as she worked, but she was quiet today, lending fuel to his theory that something was bothering her.