Phoenix Aflame (Alpha Phoenix Book 2)

by Isadora Montrose

  He set her beside the king-sized bed and turned her so he could undo the long row of buttons that ran down the back of her dress. “There’s a whirlpool bath.” He kissed the back of her neck. “We could share, or you could have a soak.”

  “Sharing sounds nice.”

  “Okay.” He peeled her bodice down and kissed her all the way down her spine. Despite her fatigue, his mouth started electricity running through her veins.

  She stepped out of the skirt of the dress and stood in her underwear feeling vulnerable. They had made love in the dark under the covers. But Harrison didn’t seem to recognize her uncertainty. He reached around her for the dress which she had clutched to her front.

  “I’ll hang this up. Do you want to start the bath?”

  The seafoam and white bathroom was huge. An array of bubble bath and fancy soap was arranged on a set of shelves. Fluffy white robes hung on hooks. She slipped one on over her underwear and turned on the taps of the deep tub.

  Harrison tapped on the doorframe and entered. He was naked and beautiful. All hard muscle and sleek golden skin. And towering erection. She might feel soft and squishy and dumpy, but her new husband wasn’t faking his attraction to her body. He tested the water with one hand.

  “How hot do you want it?”

  “Very. I ache all over. I don’t know why.”

  “Tension.” He adjusted the taps. “Bubbles?”

  She could hide behind them. “Sure. What sounds good? Orange blossom? Rose? Lavender?”

  He chuckled and peered at the rows of little bottles on the glass shelves. “Not lavender. How about orange blossom – it sounds suitably bridal?” He read the label. “Apparently you need only a few drops.” He tipped a cautious amount into the water.

  “I want to check on the girls,” she said.

  “Okay.”

  They were fast asleep. She left a light on in their bathroom and the connecting doors open. She and Harrison could close their bathroom door.

  Harrison had the whirlpool going and a mountain of bubbles was mounding on the surface of the water. “Hey,” he said. “Can I undress my present?”

  She nodded. His hands were gentle as he undid her sash. “That is some nice underwear you have there, Mrs. D’Angelo,” he said. He ran a big forefinger over the top curve of her cream lace bra. Little tingles made her nipples pucker. “It’s almost a shame to take it off.” He kissed the slope of her breast.

  “I can keep it on if you like, but wrestling it off when it’s wet might be a challenge.”

  He undid the catch. “If you want to wear it again, I better remove it now.” He released her breasts and cupped them in his palms. His thumbs caressed the taut nipples. “Lovely,” he said. He gave them a tender squeeze and reached for the matching panties. His hand covered her mound and patted. Lightning flashed through her body.

  He grinned and looked years younger. He knelt before her and kissed her through the lace before peeling her panties off and throwing them across the room. He stood, tested the water, and turned off the tap. He held out his hand and led her up the steps and into the tub. He had placed towels in a towering stack on the edge of the steps.

  “Champagne?” he asked.

  “I’ve already had too much.”

  He got in behind her and pulled her against his chest. He made a murmur of satisfaction into her updo and lifted her onto his outstretched legs. “Open your legs.” He adjusted her slightly and a gentle stream of water pulsed on her clit. She jumped.

  “How does that feel?”

  “Good,” she croaked. It felt better than good.

  He held her steady as her hips began to writhe under that pulsing jet of water. “I can adjust the tempo if it’s too much or not enough.”

  “It’s great.” It was. Almost too great. She was already on the brink. Harrison’s hands crept around and stroked the undersides of her bobbing breasts.

  “Let go,” he whispered. “I’ve got you safe.”

  “What about you?”

  He rubbed her buttocks against his stiff cock. “I’m fine. Enjoying the ride.”

  She let the gentle jet of water cascade her into a rippling orgasm. The tension in her arms and legs, the tightness in her neck and back released. She collapsed bonelessly against her husband’s chest with a murmur of delight. His arms tightened around her. The jet continued to pulse and the waves of her climax spread through her body like the ripples in a pond. It seemed a long time before the whirlpool clicked off and the jets stopped.

  “I can turn it back on,” he offered.

  “Better not. You’ll get cold.”

  He laughed. “Not a chance, sweetheart.”

  Her languor vanished. She scooted forward and turned so she could face him. She made chest hair on his hairless skin with the bubbles, searching in the foam to find his puckered nipples. They hardened even more and he groaned.

  “I could sit on your cock,” she offered.

  His fingers delved. “You feel soft and swollen and juicy.” He raised her by her buttocks. She spread her sex and slid down onto his cock. The broad head scraped at her G-spot. She wriggled until she could put her feet flat on the bottom of the tub on either side of his legs.

  Harrison’s hands at her waist made sure she would not slip. “Easy,” he crooned. He raised her an inch and let her back down. “How deep do you want me?”

  Not deep at all. She wanted that head rubbing where she was most sensitive. But he had been patient and deserved his share of pleasure. And it was not as if she didn’t like deep thrusting too. “All the way,” she breathed into his forehead.

  She rose as high as she could and sank back down. He helped her balance, but let her set the pace as if he recognized the trust required for her to admit him into her body. His face was arched upward as fierce arousal held him in its grip. Her pussy was throbbing and clenching around his dick. She was on the brink again, but still he held back.

  “I’m going to come,” she cried.

  He lifted her one last time and surged back into her. His cry of satisfaction bounced off the tiles like the sweetest love song in the world. They relaxed together while their mutual quivering continued. The water cooled.

  “You get out first,” he whispered into her hair. “I’d carry you, but I think my legs may never work again.”

  They dried each other with the big towels. Her hair had gotten damp but was still full of Caroline’s jeweled hairpins. “Robe?” he asked as he stopped polishing her breasts with a towel.

  Her shyness seemed foolish now. Harrison had made her feel bold and womanly. “No.”

  He turned her to face the big mirror and began to search for the pins and lay them on the marble counter. His eyes were hot as he watched them in the mirror. Her nipples puckered just from his hot eyes on them. “You don’t want these sticking into your scalp while you are sleeping.”

  “My hair is going to look like hell in the morning,” she said.

  He kept pulling pins out. Curls cascaded down until a tousled mane covered her shoulders. Between the humidity and her wild hair, she looked abandoned. He cupped her breasts with big hands. His cock was poking her from behind, as if he hadn’t just come. Looking at them in the mirror was a huge turn-on. Her arousal started up again. Harrison gave her breasts a fond squeeze, kissed her curls, and sighed.

  “We have to turn back into mommy and daddy.” He reached for the robes and helped her into one and shrugged the other on.

  They checked on the girls together, left one of the connecting doors still standing open, and got into bed.

  “Are you planning to do something with that sausage?” she asked as she curled into him.

  “Are you hungry or something, sweetheart?”

  “Or something.” Whatever else was wrong with this marriage, bed was not going to be a problem.

  She had missed having sex. Missed the passion. Missed the intimacy. Missed the closeness to another person’s soul. Only lying in Harrison’s arms made her realize that wha
tever she had felt with Blaine was a pale imitation of affinity. She and her ex had enjoyed each other’s bodies, but what she experienced with Harrison was more intense. More sacred.

  And then she forgot her musing in the rapture of his delicate exploration of her skin. He touched and caressed her as if he had not done so before, as if discovering where she was sensitive and where she liked to be tugged or pinched was his mission in life. She was emboldened to do her own inch-by-inch perusal of his body.

  Long after she had sucked him dry and he had returned the favor, they lay together in a sweaty tangle. “Sleep,” he ordered. And she soared off a cliff into his waiting arms.

  * * *

  “I’m hungry,” Becky announced.

  “Me too,” Quincy said from the other side of the bed.

  Tasha sat up. She held the sheet over her tender breasts. The soft cotton abraded her sensitized nipples. She was going to have to start waking before her daughters. “Where’s Daddy?”

  “We didn’t look,” Quincy said.

  His robe was gone. “Daddy is probably showering. Pass me my robe, please, Becky.” She pointed to it.

  Steam poured out of the bathroom as Harrison emerged freshly shaven and damp haired. “Good morning, ladies,” he said. “Who’s ready for breakfast?”

  “Me,” chorused the girls.

  “Room service, or coffee shop?” he asked.

  “Room service is so expensive,” Tasha objected.

  He shrugged. “That’s not the issue. It will be slower is all. Shall we compromise and raid the mini bar and go down to the coffee shop once you are dressed?”

  “Where are my clothes?” asked Becky.

  Tasha felt herself flush. They had not been responsible parents last night. Instead of getting the girls organized they had indulged themselves for hours. Harrison winked at her.

  “You girls can unpack your bags. Put your stuff away in the chest of drawers and choose clothes for going to the amusement park all day. It’s going to be hot, but you should wear sneakers, not sandals.”

  Tasha opened her mouth to say that they would make a mess of unpacking, but Harrison silenced her with a look. She shut her mouth and was rewarded with a wink.

  “Close the door behind you, Becky,” he said. “Independence means making mistakes,” he continued softly. “Are you going to shower or stay in bed?”

  “I always take care of Becky’s clothes,” she defended herself.

  “She’s old enough to choose her own outfit while you have ten minutes to get dressed.”

  “When you put it that way.”

  He was rapidly unpacking his own bag into the open drawers of their bureau. “Shall I unpack for you?”

  She started to say no, remembered she hadn’t packed for herself, and nodded. “Thank you.”

  He grinned happily and set to work.

  “We dressed like twins,” explained Quincy in the elevator. Not that their matching blue shorts and sparkly pink T-shirts required any such explanation.

  “Good idea,” said Harrison. The doors opened and they exited into the lobby. He pulled out his cell and took their pictures right away. He took one of Tasha for good measure. “If we get split up, we have a photo to show.”

  “We are not going to get split up,” Tasha said as she took the girls’ hands. “Your job today is to stay close to Mommy and Daddy. If you are not sitting in a chair or on a ride, you should be holding hands with one of us.”

  Harrison grinned at her over their heads. Becky’s hair was a tangled mess of sagging ringlets. Quincy’s mop had also given up on being arranged. “We will be fine,” he mouthed as he ushered them into the coffee shop.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  They sat outdoors eating French toast with warm banana-caramel sauce. Despite their excitement they managed to clean their plates. Tasha was ravenous and so was Harrison. No wonder after last night. He had placed her at his right, apparently so he could press his shoe against hers. Electric currents thrummed through her whole body and he smiled knowingly.

  “This is good,” said Quincy through a mouthful of banana. She had a splash of caramel sauce on her chin.

  Tasha wiped Quincy’s chin with her napkin. “Swallow before you speak,” she reminded.

  “I want to go in the teacups,” declared Becky.

  “I want to see Elsa,” shouted Quincy, who had dutifully swallowed.

  “Those are great choices,” said Harrison. “What do you say, Mom?”

  Three pairs of eyes fastened on hers. “Do you have a map, Daddy?” she asked wryly.

  He tapped his head.

  “I vote that we do things in the order that involves the least amount of walking,” Tasha said.

  “Then we will start with a visit to Fantasyland, and plan to go on the Jungle Cruise mid-morning.” He reached out to pat Becky’s hand. “Let’s just have fun. We are on vacation.”

  “If you say so.” But such thriftlessness made her uneasy.

  “Don’t even think it,” he said picking up her hand. “We are not going to get our money’s worth. We are going to pick and choose and have fun. I didn’t bring you here so you could run yourself ragged. We are going to enjoy ourselves. I don’t want you too tired to play.”

  She thought about arguing. Then she shrugged. This was her honeymoon. “I hope you have FastPasses,” she murmured.

  “Of course.”

  By the time they had gone through It’s a Small World and spun dizzily in the Mad Hatter’s Tea Cups, and toured Sleeping Beauty’s Castle, the girls were tiring. And after the excitement of the night before and walking for hours, Tasha was perfectly happy to take the relaxing Jungle Cruise. Harrison put the girls between them and stretched his arm behind them to squeeze Tasha’s shoulder.

  The skipper kept the passengers howling as he told jokes and pointed out the mechanical attractions. The girls gasped as the hippo opened a cavernous mouth to reveal giant teeth. The elephant showering in the waterfall provoked oohs of delight. Despite the jokey non-stop commentary, it was peaceful. All too soon, it was over.

  “I’m hungry, Mamma T,” announced Quincy.

  “Girls who had ice cream an hour ago can’t be hungry,” Tasha teased.

  “Yes, we can. I’m hungry,” insisted Quincy.

  “Me too,” said Becky.

  “Good thing I have a plan,” said Harrison. He guided them to a Mexican restaurant where they sat on a bougainvillea-shaded patio and enjoyed spicy enchiladas.

  It was crazy wasteful to keep eating in restaurants when there were sandwich bars, but Harrison shook his head at her. “We’re on our honeymoon,” he repeated.

  “I’ll never manage another round of rides,” she said softly, patting her tummy.

  He winked. “Who wants to go swimming?” he asked.

  “Me, me,” cried both girls.

  “Swimming pool or ocean?” he asked.

  “Swimming pool,” Quincy said. “I want to go on the water slide.”

  Becky looked doubtful. Harrison patted her back. “You’ll love the water slide,” he said.

  Her little face cleared. Harrison was right. Becky loved sliding down the long slide safe in his arms. Tasha did too.

  * * *

  “If you were going to fucking steal a car,” Mom growled, “I don’t see why you couldn’t have picked something with a little more umph.”

  Shawn glanced to his right. Mom was scowling out the windshield with her arms folded across her chest. It was true the little silver subcompact he had picked up at the Clearwater airport was not much either to look at or to drive. But that was the whole damned point.

  He had lurked in long-term parking until a couple of passengers with big fucking suitcases that had barely fit in the back of their little car had walked away talking loudly about their month-long cruise. No one was going to miss this fucker for at least a month.

  “We want nondescript, Mom.” For the same reason, he had brought along a tag he had swiped off a car up on blocks. Since t
hen he had swapped out the stolen car’s plates twice more, so that the video footage of them exiting the parking garage and pulling out of the airport would not match with the plates they were now using. Soon they would get a California plate and blend right in, alerts or no fucking alerts.

  “If we gotta drive all the way to California, I would prefer a little more fucking legroom.”

  As if their problem was being cramped. “Well, I’d prefer not to spend the rest of my life in a fucking penitentiary. I don’t want us arrested. In case you have fucking forgotten, the cops are looking for us. Especially for you.” And for two cents he would fucking throw her to the filth.

  Colleen made a fist. But she seemed to have some self-control after all for she didn’t punch him and get them both killed.

  “It doesn’t matter where we go – as long as we’re gone,” he explained. “Florida is too hot for us.”

  “If you’d hidden that fucking money better none of this would be necessary,” Mom complained for about the ten millionth time.

  “Water under the bridge,” he muttered. He didn’t know how the authorities had found his off-shore accounts so fast. But their savings were for fucking sure gone. Probably his dumbass family was to blame.

  “Where we going to do this fucking snatch?” Mom demanded. He sneaked a peek. Her square face was hard and furious. If anything she was angrier even than usual. Which meant she had even less sense.

  “We have to be patient. Wait for the right moment. Besides, we need to ditch this car. We’ll get you something bigger with California plates.”

  “Those fucking D’Angelos fucking owe us.” She started up again.

  “How do you figure?” He had had four days of it so far, but it was best to let Mom rant.

  “We’d still have our fucking business and Malik and Dustin would be out on bail if it wasn’t for D’Angelo putting out that fire.”

  As if he gave a rat’s ass for those two screw-ups. For all he fucking cared Malik and Dustin could fucking rot in fucking jail. “Well they won’t get any bail unless we handle this job right. We have to make a good plan and we have to follow it.”

  Colleen subsided. She continued to simmer for several miles, eventually starting in again. “You sure we can’t just complete the job and get the client to pay?”