by Joey W. Hill
“If you’ve a mind to remove these…Mistress,” he made it a husky caress that trailed up her spine like fingertips, “I can help hold you up.”
“Or collapse to the floor with me.”
He chuckled, acknowledging the truth of her words, and planted a lingering, fierce kiss on her temple. She cupped his head, holding him there, her eyes as tightly shut as his for a moment.
“God, that felt good,” she murmured, surprised when tears choked her voice. “Thank you.”
“Likewise.” He lifted his head, a tender stroke of his nose against hers. “I’d really like to hold you.”
“Oh! Sorry,” she smiled, somewhat unrepentant, and tugged off the leg straps, amazed at the ease with which the buckles unsnapped, when they were so resilient when locked. She smoothed her fingers over the deep red welts on his arms, leaned forward and placed her lips there. His other arm curled around her back, folded her to him as he moved off the cross and sank down to sit on the dais. She went down with him, sitting on the step below, her body folded between his bare thighs. The wetness of his cock pressed against her side. He laid his head over hers.
“I really like you, Josh.”
He chuckled against her hair, and she lifted her head to look up into his eyes. Both of them were grinning foolishly. “That’s not what I meant. I mean…aside from all this, I really like you. You’re someone I’d like to get to know better.”
“I think you probably know me better than most people ever have,” he tucked a curl behind her ear, “and,” he lifted a shoulder, “I don’t know why it is, but two people can be together five years and not know how to love each other, cherish each other, and others can do it,” he glanced at his wrist as if a watch was there and slanted a glance at her, leaving the thought unfinished.
She swallowed, uncertain what to say, not sure if she needed to say anything, because the idea was at best a fragile miracle that words might destroy.
“I know,” he nodded, as if reading her thoughts. “I’m not talking about the kind of love people have after twenty years, where they can finish each other’s sentences. That takes work, and time. But I think all those relationships start with something more than just a flash of lust. You feel like you could just sit and look at that person forever. You just want to be near them. I felt that…feel that, with you.
“But you don’t need to do anything about it,” he added quickly. “I mean, it doesn’t obligate you to me. You have a life, and this is just—”
She placed a finger on his lips. “Don’t,” she said quietly. “Don’t start playing those games. You trusted me with those straps on, trust me with them off. We’ll figure it out. I want to be with you, too. Just,” she traced the firm lips with a finger. “Just shut up.”
He cocked a brow, and then gave her a slow, sensual smile that reminded her that expression was all he was presently wearing.
“Yes, Mistress,” he replied.
She heard Marcus give a weak chuckle as Josh’s lips took hold of her mouth, and all her senses, once again.
Chapter Twenty-One
Marcus had to leave the following morning. Josh and Lauren followed him down to the wide beach, clean and white in the light of late morning. It was a day that begged to be whiled away, gazing at the surf from a reclining position in comfortable beach chairs.
Lauren felt something tighten in her chest when she saw the charter boat. It had already dropped anchor and a dingy was making its way toward shore. Marcus looked very different in a golf shirt and perfectly tailored slacks. He wore an expensive gold bracelet, Italian shoes, and his hair was carelessly styled to fall in lustrous waves to his shoulders. He looked every inch the urbane New Yorker, but his eyes, moving over the two of them, held a warmth and wistfulness that was a reflection of her own desire to hold onto the special bond they had forged here.
It had been one of the most incredible emotional and physical experiences of her life. She suspected it would rate among the top ten for Marcus. At least for now, until he garnered other experiences to knock it down the list.
The thought curved her lips in a smile, and loosened some of the tight feeling. She left Josh’s side and put her arms around Marcus, lifting onto her canvas sneakered toes to brush his lips with hers. His hand caught in her hair and he held her there against him a moment, savoring the sensual pleasure of bodies and lips touching, recalling experiences shared. He eased her down and she smiled at him. “You keep those boys up in the Big Apple in line, you hear me? And if you need any help…”
He chuckled. “You’ll be the first. You’ll scare their cute little asses off. Maybe,” he looked away, then down, an unusually vulnerable move for him, then his eyes lifted and found hers over his sunglasses. “I might call Thomas, see what he’s doing these days.”
She squeezed his hand at her hip. “You do that. Don’t let him go, Marcus. Not if he’s the one.”
He nodded, touched her cheek, then looked over her head at Josh. She stepped delicately out of the space between the two men. Marcus moved forward, hugged Josh close. It was the embrace of good friends, brothers, and something that did not need definition. Josh held him just as firmly, his fingers tightening on Marcus’s back. Lauren thought she heard a murmured, “thank you”, before both eased back, looking a bit choked up by the moment.
Men. Such softies. She smiled on them, felt the warmth of the sun, and thought today was the most beautiful day in the world. More importantly, tomorrow and the next day could be even more beautiful. There were no limits to the possibilities of life.
“I have a parting gift for the two of you,” Marcus said, reaching into his travel bag. He gave them an enigmatic smile as Lauren came to Josh’s side.
He pulled out the deck of cards that had started their adventure. The deck had been divided in half and each portion tied charmingly with sprigs of forest greenery and gold satin ribbon, probably stolen from one of the corsets from the costume room. One of the fragrant white blooms that grew wild on the island was woven into each sprig.
Marcus took their hands, pressed the cards into their respective palms, and held them there, linking the three of them in a circle.
“I will be interested to see who is holding the cards next time we meet,” he said quietly, looking between them. “But I suspect we all know that when it’s done right, you don’t keep score.” He flashed a wicked grin. “It wouldn’t be half as much fun otherwise, no pun intended.”
Josh lifted a brow. “I don’t know if I should be touched by your sentiment, or figure you’re saying I’m dealing with half a deck.”
“No more than the rest of us, dear boy,” Marcus chuckled and laid a hand alongside his neck, squeezing. “That’s why you have to find the one with the other half. Maybe you have. I surely hope so.” He smiled at them, then released Josh and embraced Lauren, pulling her close again. Lauren held him hard to her heart for a moment, overwhelmed by her emotions, and by what he murmured in her ear. However, being Marcus, he refused to leave her with tears.
She was chuckling as he pulled away. Marcus shouldered his carry on, and headed down the beach toward the waiting dingy.
“What did he say?” Josh asked, taking her hand.
Lauren linked her fingers with his. “He said he anticipated getting some lucrative creations from his favorite artist very soon.”
Josh shook his head, turned, and lifted his hand in response to Marcus’s wave before the art dealer stepped into the boat. “Mercenary bastard,” he said affectionately. “So what else did he say, before that?”
Lauren looked down at their entangled fingers, then up at him. “He said not to let you hide here all the time, to make Isabel share you with the world a bit.”
“And what did you say?” His neutral expression guarded his feelings, giving her the freedom to say her mind. That shuttering told her all she needed to know. Warmth bloomed inside of her.
“I said I wouldn’t leave without you, however long it took.”
“You need t
o be a doctor, Lauren,” he said after a moment. “You have a gift for healing.”
She nodded. “I might at that. There’s a clinic on the main island. It needs a doctor more than a wealthy clinic in Atlanta. Lisette has tried to talk me into working there before. I can practice there for awhile, until you and Isabel decide you want to be somewhere else. Is that what you want?”
He looked away, but she caught his chin, brought his face back to her.
“Don’t look away when I’m speaking to you. Tell me what you want, and be truthful. Or I’ll know.” She put enough edge in her voice to get a responsive flash in his eyes, a visible flush of heat on his body, but in her eyes there was something softer, warmer, and it was that he answered.
“I want you. I want to be with you.” He reached out, drew her to him, slid his hands up the soft skin of her arms. “I’d like to get to know you better, learn everything about you, make you happy, take care of you. I’d rather,” he swallowed. “I don’t mind being with other people, but…physically, I’d prefer not to share you.”
“I’ve always been a monogamous type of girl,” she responded, her voice thick with emotion at his shy vulnerability, the hope in his voice. It told her they still had a ways to go to heal all the pain Winona had inflicted, but they had taken the most important step. She arched a brow at him, letting him see the healthy humor in her gaze.
“A possessive submissive?” she teased. She laughed when he made a fierce face and gathered her firmly in his arms, underscoring his point. “Well, I don’t know. You’d have to work really hard at pleasing me.”
“Yes, Mistress,” he murmured, nuzzling her neck, his tongue teasing her skin so her muscles became loose and flowing like the cool waters rushing over their bare feet. Her hand gripped his shoulder and she lifted her head, raised her palm to his face, traced the cheekbones, the sensual lips.
“All those things you said,” she murmured. “I want to be the same, do the same, for you. Give you inspiration.”
“You’re already doing that,” he bit her neck and she shivered.
“Then let’s go to your house and see if we can help you finish some of the things you’ve started.”
“It’s a sad place.”
“We’ll fix it. Do you want me?”
He looked down at her, the wild reckless passion of the artist in his eyes, daring her to tame him, begging her to try. It almost made her smile.
He molded his palms to her hips with the care and reverence he would clay, his fingers grazing her bare hipbones where the shorts and top parted. He slid his hands back, let the thumbs meet, and cupped her buttocks, pushing her into him, against his hard arousal.
He bent his head, pausing just a whisper above her ear, breathing upon it.
“More than air.”
The combinations of sensual intent and raw vulnerability in the whisper pooled like liquid chocolate in all her senses. She slid her arms around his neck and brought his head down for a kiss that had the searing heat of lava deep beneath the earth. The mere movement of his lips on hers loosened everything within and without her, including her grip on Marcus’s cards.
The cards hit the sand, the loose binding giving way, allowing them to be picked up by the ocean breeze. They were lifted and spun in all different directions, the sea, the sand, the dunes and forest beyond, and against their legs and ankles.
Lauren melted into Josh’s kiss, felt his body melt into hers, and decided to let Fate hold the cards for this hand.
* * * * *
That night, they slept on his deck. Josh rose up on an elbow, watching Lauren as she slept. The moonlight on the waves below them reflected in the glittering strands of her loosened blonde hair.
“My little dominatrix,” he murmured with soft, fervent affection, and a smile for them both. He bent, pressed a light kiss to the corner of her lips, just a taste of endless possibilities, and then lay back down beside her, gathering her close, protecting and protected, and found peace.
About the Author
I’ve always avoided interviews of favorite personalities because so often the person doesn’t measure up to the beauty of the art they produce. Their politics are distasteful, or they’re shallow and self-absorbed, a vacuous mophead without a lick of sense. From then on, though I may appreciate their craft, it has somehow been tarnished. Therefore, when I’m asked to provide personal info for readers, a ball of anxiety forms in my stomach as I think: “Okay, my next words may forever change the way someone views my stories.” Why does a reader want to know about me? It’s the story that’s important.
So here it is. I’ve been given more blessings in my life than any one person has a right to have. Despite that, I’m a Type A, OCD phobic paranoiac who worries I’ll never live up to expectations. I don’t like talking on the phone, I dread social commitments. Living in monastic solitude with my husband and animals, books and writing, is my idea of paradise. I love chocolate, but with that irrational female belief that weight equals worth, I keep it to a minor addiction. I adore good movies. I’m told I work too much. Every day is spent trying to get through the never-ending “to do” list to snatch a few minutes to write.
Despite all these mediocre and typical qualities, for some miraculous reason, these wonderful characters well up out of my soul with stories to tell. When I find that precious “stillness”, which calms all the competing voices in my head, I can step into their lives, hear what they are saying, what they’re feeling, and put it down on paper. It’s a magic beyond description, akin to believing my husband loves me, winning the trust of an abused animal, making a true connection with someone or knowing I’ve given a reader something special through those written words. It’s a magic that reassures me there is Someone, far wiser than myself, who knows the permanent path to that garden of stillness, where there is only love, acceptance and a pen waiting for hours and hours of uninterrupted, blissful use.
If only I could finish that darned “to do” list.
Joey welcomes comments from readers. You can find her website and email addresses on her author bio page at www.ellorascave.com.
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Also by Joey W. Hill
Chance of a Lifetime
Choice of Masters
If Wishes Were Horses
Knights of the Board Room: Afterlife
Knights of the Board Room: Board Resolution
Knights of the Board Room: Hostile Takeover
Make Her Dreams Come True
Nature of Desire 2: Natural Law
Nature of Desire 3: Ice Queen
Nature of Desire 4: Mirror of My Soul
Nature of Desire 5: Mistress of Redemption
Nature of Desire 6: Rough Canvas
Nature of Desire 7: Branded Sanctuary
Snow Angel
Threads of Faith
Virtual Reality
Print books by Joey W. Hill
Behind the Mask anthology
Enchained anthology
Faith and Dreams
Hot Chances anthology
If Wishes Were Horses
Knights of the Board Room: Afterlife
Nature of Desire 1: Holding the Cards
Nature of Desire 2: Natural Law
Nature of Desire 3: Ice Queen
Nature of Desire 4: Mirror of My Soul
Nature of Desire 5: Mistress of Redemption
Nature of Desire 6: Rough Canvas
Nature of Desire 7: Branded Sanctuary
The Twelve Quickies of Christmas, Volume 2 anthology
Virtual Reality
Discover for yourself why readers can’t get enough of the multiple award-winning publisher Ellora’s Cave. Whether you prefer ebooks or paperbacks, be sure to visit EC on the web at www.ellorascave.com for an erotic reading experience that will leave you breathless.
www.ellorascave.com
Joey W Hill, HoldingtheCards