“Are you alright, Sarah?” Strife almost didn’t respond to the name. It took a moment to register that Ranjan addressed her.
“Me?” She focused on his warm mahogany eyes. “I’m fine. Maybe just a little tired.” “How about we take a break?” he asked, lightly rubbing her back. “We’ve been walking around all day. Have you ever heard of Marble Slab?”
Her brow furrowing in curiosity. “No. What is it?”
“Only the best ice cream in the entire city,” Ranjan said, grasping her hand. “And you can have any topping you could ever imagine. Cookies, candy, fruit. Trust me, you’ll love it.”
Despite her depressing bone weariness, Strife relented. Finally, a delight she could enjoy. There were no tactical strategies to be had from frozen treats.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Aphrodite smiled at the sleeping pair on the rooftop. Cold lager on a hot day and a satisfying meal invited a siesta in the sunshine. It pleased her how relaxed they were with each other, discussing the mundane such as contracts and veterinary bills along with hopes and current events. Like friends.
At rest, they resembled little ones caught counting clouds when Morpheus closed their eyes and made them dream. The bottles were warm to the touch. Traces of hummus and gnawed chicken bones attracted flies but the low, buzzing hum could not disturb their slumber.
Poetry and Adrian lay side by side, not touching, but not at an uncomfortable distance. Adrian’s nose wrinkled like that of a dog even as he dozed, and Aphrodite stifled laughter.
But sleep would not bring them together. How fortunate the weather in this land changed so abruptly. Aphrodite stirred billowing moisture from the azure expanse overhead and gathered them in a cottony mass. It grew heavy and dark in the circumference of her immortal hands. Winds changed direction at her command until a whining gale whipped dust and paper in cyclones around her feet. She smelled the ozone, almost tasted oncoming rain.
“Come alive, my beauties,” she said to the howling elements. “It is time to play.”
Aphrodite clapped her hands. # # #
A thunderous boom startled Poetry awake. Cold rain needled her skin, drenching her. “Oh, shit!” She hustled to her feet, noting that Adrian shoved garbage and leftovers into her Kokanee tote while the deluge weighted the clothes to his body. He grabbed the sound dock.
“I got the stuff!” He yelled to be heard over the storm. “You get the door!”
Easier said than done. Her flip-flops slid on the slick surface and she floundered in the effort to keep her footing. “I gotcha…” Adrian appeared next to her, lunch bag slung over his shoulder, sound dock in hand. He grabbed her elbow, but they fell to the cement in a heap of laughter.
“No, here.” Poetry got to one knee and pushed his arm upward. A gust shoved them toward the door. Once on their feet, they shuffled with heads ducked low, giggling and huddling.
“I got it,” Poetry said. She turned the knob and the metal slab caught the wind and slammed against the opposite wall.
“Get inside,” Adrian said. Poetry ran down a small set of stairs and waited while he juggled his burden and dragged the exit shut. The snarling weather continued to demand entrance, but it no longer hurt Poetry’s ears or tugged at her dress. Shivering, she endured the frigid bite of soaked skin and clothing.
“Shit, it’s cold,” Adrian said, echoing her sentiments. “We need towels.” He shook droplets from his hair. “Right. The elevator’s this way.” He marched toward the inside door. Poetry followed. “I can’t believe it got so chilly so fast. How long were we out?” “No idea.” Adrian glanced her way. “You have goose bumps.” “So do you.”
The elevator bell dinged and they hurried in. Adrian pressed number fourteen.
“Here,” Poetry said through clattering teeth. “I’ll do you if you do me.” She placed her hands on Adrian’s bare arms and rubbed vigorously. “Oh yeah, that feels so good.” He dumped the cooler bag and sound dock on the floor and returned the favor.
She jogged in place while the elevator descended. It made her stomach lurch in a butterfly kind of way, causing her to crack up. “What?” “I’m freezing! Brrrr!” She said, burrowing into his arms.
To her amazement, he folded her into an embrace and stroked her back. She got a whiff of his cologne; one of the new Old Spice blends if she wasn’t mistaken. Romantic puppy surprise?
“Me too.” The delicate moment brought Poetry back to reality and she backed away.
I’d best keep my hands to myself. Can’t believe I just snuggled a ‘suit’. Poetry eyed his lean physique. But he’s not wearing a suit… Adrian cleared his throat and concentrated on the descending numbers on the digital display. Poetry quit gawking and shifted her gaze to the carpet. Fourteen couldn’t show up fast enough. At least she felt warmer. “It was a great lunch. Thank you.”
“My pleasure,” Poetry said, bewildered that she meant it. And why not? He’d taken care of her cat even though she’d been sure he didn’t even like her. He’d agreed to let her pay him back in small amounts for the vet. He’d driven her home after the ‘Kevin Incident’ and checked her apartment over. Dinner at Louisiana Purchase. She shrugged. Lunch was the least she could do.
Another bell. Wordlessly, they departed the elevator. Adrian grabbed his sound dock and Poetry carried the cooler bag.
They strolled to his apartment in mute respect for each other. Or so it seemed to Poetry. As the rasp of Adrian’s key in the lock reverberated down the hall she remembered how shivery she felt. And how dripping, sopping drenched she was.
She allowed her chin and voice to rattle in the universal song of those in need of heat. “Yes, I’m hurrying,” Adrian said. The door swept open, creating a breeze that raised new prickles on Poetry’s arms and legs. “I’ll get you that towel.” He disappeared around the corner.
Poetry huffed in relief, making herself at home in the kitchen. She’d be dry soon. “Thanks.”
She busied herself tossing rain-soaked bits of cellophane and squishy pita bread into the garbage.
Poetry emptied the rest of the bag’s contents into the sink, including the beer bottles. A Ziploc bag at the very bottom of her insulated carry case caught her eye. How could she forget about that? Her entire reason for seeing Adrian lay neglected in a pool of rainwater and melted ice cubes.
She fished it out, tossing the cooler aside. “Here we are,” Adrian said from behind her. She accepted a large charcoal-colored towel from him, still staring at the shiny object encased in plastic.
“I forgot to give you this,” Poetry said, drying her head with the terry cloth. She left it there like a shroud so she could use both hands. “I worked so hard on it too.”
“Give me what?” He peered forward as she popped open the seal. “This…” Poetry held it aloft, allowing the amber to sparkle in the light of the ceiling fan.
“What is it?” “It’s a Viking torque. This isn’t something I normally do. I prefer more feminine designs, bracelets and necklaces. Stuff like that.” She tested the flex of the braid, pulling it apart gently to see how far it would stretch before she risked breakage.
“I wanted to give you something that would tell you how much I appreciate what you’ve done for me.” Satisfied with of the strength of her work, Poetry faced Adrian. The rippling spasms of her body no longer had a connection with her damp clothing. The metal tingled in her hands as though it had life of its own. For reasons she couldn’t explain, she need to do this. It was too important. Everything faded from her vision. She saw only Adrian.
Poetry tiptoed to encircle his neck. He obliged by bending so she could place the jewelry around his Adam’s apple, spinning it so the amber came to rest on his collarbone. The stones seemed to wink at her, like they knew something she didn’t. She dismissed it as silly, all in her head. Maybe if she chanted that to herself, she’d believe it.
“Do you like it?” Adrian hadn’t said a word. It made her nervous. Poetry became acutely aware of her appearance. She shed the tow
el, conscious of the streaks of blue bingo dauber staining her face and clothes. She mustered the courage to meet his gaze.
And found fire. His azure-gold eyes immobilized her.
“Adrian?” The tremor in her voice made her cringe. This whole thing, practice dating, eating together, giving gifts, was trouble. What had she been thinking?
He advanced. She couldn’t move. To her left, the exit seemed too far. Poetry cowered under his scrutiny. She wouldn’t resist. No, she saw the reflection of her eagerness. Excitement, not fear.
This wasn’t like her. She chanced a pace back, and her spine bumped the granite countertop. Adrian closed in, one hand cupping her cheek. “Adrian, I don’t think…” Thunder drowned out her protests. His lips were silky, his tongue teasing. He kissed her reluctance away until she responded. Her knees went weak and he lifted her onto the smooth surface.
“Adrian, we haven’t…” She meant to remind him they hadn’t signed anything. After all, he did everything by legal standards, right? But the words wouldn’t come.
Adrian’s touch created unexpected desires. He caressed her chin, squeezed her breasts, and fondled the curves beneath her panties. He waited, poised with calloused thumbs tracing her hips. Her thighs quivered beneath his fingers, the heat of his lust hot between her legs.
Her hands traveled the taut muscles of his chest of their own accord, much to her embarrassment. She gazed at the neckpiece she’d given him. It seemed to glow in the pulses of lightning like a living entity.
I shouldn’t be doing this. “Adrian.” Poetry searched the lines in his features. “Are you sure this is alright?” “I am,” he said, his voice low and husky. “Isn’t this what a real lover would do?” His lips grazed her throat along her jaw line to her ear. “Say yes.”
She couldn’t let it go this far. Sleeping with Adrian wouldn’t work out. They came from different worlds and could never be more than friends, and even that seemed unlikely. No matter how good it felt right now she had to say no.
“Yes.” Even in the shade of the late day and the overcast sky Poetry could see the mischief Adrian intended as he peeled her underwear off and pulled the dress over her head. He smiled like a predatory cat before trailing hot kisses along her neck. She trembled as he branded her nipples, her belly button, the tribal tattoos on her abdomen and…
Oh. Oh God. Her other piercing. The most private one.
He draped her legs over his shoulders, fully exposing her. He explored with his fingers, playing with the golden circle.
“Hmm…” What an odd sound, one of wonder. Poetry guessed he’d never seen a labia ring before. She forgot her self-conscious body issues. She forgot to think of anything at all. She squirmed as he learned how to make her whimper and sigh.
Poetry’s senses faded until she knew only Adrian’s touch. She tried to steady herself. The rising tide of pleasure had her grasping for something, anything, to hold on to. Canisters and spices toppled and clattered. The reek of dill saturated her nostrils.
But oblivion approached. She vibrated with anticipation. Her entire body clenched in expectation.
Adrian stopped. He rose to his feet, face glistening with her stickiness. He held her gaze, licking her cream from his fingertips.
“Tell me you want this, Poetry,” he said. He leaned in and she tasted her saltiness in his kiss. “Say you want me.”
I can’t, she thought. Not with him. But she couldn’t stop. Every nerve ached.
“I…” She wrapped her calves around Adrian’s damp shorts and put her arms around him. “I want…you.” He wasted no time carrying her to his room. He navigated by memory; his gaze never wavered from her. His smile didn’t fade, not even when he dropped her to the edge of the bed. Shorts and shirt hit the hardwood floor with a wet plop. His sleek muscles flexed in the gloom. His thick penis bobbed toward her, proudly erect.
Adrian produced a condom from a dresser and eased the lubricated latex over his cock with care and attention. It thrilled her even more. She looked forward to that kind of sensual consideration, something she hadn’t had for a long time.
He didn’t disappoint. He spread her knees and mounted her. She shuddered when he entered, but not from pain. A shockwave of rapture raced through her limbs with each slow stroke until he filled her.
He paused. Poetry listened to the sound of her ragged breathing mingling with the drumming of the rain. She couldn’t bear anymore. Why was he making her wait? Why didn’t he just…
“Adrian.” Was that her? She’d lost control of her words. “Please, Adrian.”
He smiled down at her. “Yes.” He coaxed her into a sitting position, and she opened to him like a morning bloom. Her body responded quickly. She cried out as his thrusts elevated her to new levels of intensity. They rocked together in endless gratification, voiced in grunts and murmurs.
She delighted in this sweating dance that made her float dangerously, always gracing the edge of the abyss. He rolled her over. Poetry braced against the mattress, galvanized as Adrian quickened the pace. The music of flesh smacking on flesh heightening her need. He reached beneath her, massaging her sex until primal, graceless shouts filled the room.
She dropped to her elbows, unable to stabilize herself any longer. She clawed the covers, wriggled into each tap of his scrotum against her clean-shaven folds.
So close. She wanted to feel him all over her. Wanted to watch him come. She switched to her back and pulled him inside. Poetry bucked with every plunge, desperate to take his entire length. The pungent smell of sweat saturated every struggling breath until her head swam.
Finally her senses exploded and a raw shriek tore from her throat. She arched her back, pressing her nipples into his chest. She cried. She moaned. She gasped for air, and Adrian pushed deeper as her body throbbed.
Poetry squeezed her eyes shut, savoring the sliding weight of Adrian’s groin and the after burn of giddiness as he collapsed on top of her. But only for a moment.
He climbed off with a self-satisfied laugh. His sudden absence made Poetry long for his return, but she didn’t have the energy to reach for him.
They lounged in the quiet. Poetry inhaled the scent of sex and rain, counting seconds as thunder roared miles away. In spite of her fulfillment, she wasn’t complete. Poetry studied Adrian’s profile. “You didn’t come,” she said.
“I need a break.” Adrian seemed winded. “But you had an orgasm, right? That’s the important thing, isn’t it?”
Adrian’s erection remained unspent. His breathing slowed. Poetry smiled, feeling passion and purpose return.
“It’s not the only thing. Now it’s your turn.” She shimmied down his torso, planting kisses down his sternum to his stomach until she nuzzled the golden hair surrounding his cock. Time to show him what her tongue piercing could do. CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE Adrian awoke with his neck stinging. He raked at his collarbone as he shot up in bed. Something fell and hit his closet door, metal against wood. Late morning light splashed across rumpled sheets and the odor of sex wafted past his nose.
It took a moment for his head to clear. Then the awful truth of what he’d done revealed itself like a lifting fog. He shot a glance to his left. Poetry lay blissfully sleeping, unaware of his turmoil.
Last night’s acrobatics resurfaced, causing his cock to stir. How could I be so stupid?
A one night stand was one thing; bedding an acquaintance that owes you money was an altogether different beast with possible legal repercussions. He hadn’t even started the paperwork for the ‘practice dating’, never mind any intimacy clause.
Feelings of lust warred with ethics inside his head. He wanted to run to the bathroom and hide. His dick had other ideas. This was more than ordinary morning wood. Adrian wanted to rouse Poetry and play with her piercings, make her scream his name again. He wanted to lick those tribal markings on her abdomen until she begged him to…
“Fuck.” He forced himself to retreat from the bedroom. He didn’t need to make matters worse. His reflection
in the bathroom mirror looked disheveled. Like a perp. His pale skin only emphasized the dark pockets under his eyes. Worse were the mosquito bites at the base of his throat. He bent forward for closer inspection.
No, not bites, burns. How the hell did he get those? “Hey.” Adrian jumped at the sound of Poetry’s voice, and he bit down a yelp. “Don’t do that.” His heart thumped like Japanese taiko drums.
“Come back to bed,” she said. “We’ve barely slept.” Her grin suggested she didn’t plan on sleeping. She eyed his erection, ran her tongue piercing along her bottom lip.
“I know, but I…” He wanted to. His balls twitched just thinking about her lips swallowing his length. But slumming wasn’t his style. He didn’t do her type and it baffled him that he’d even found her attractive last night. Maybe the heat got to him.
“…I have work to do at the office.” Perfect excuse. Poetry crinkled her indigo-stained forehead. “It’s already kind of late in the day.” “True.” Adrian drew the shower curtain and stepped inside the tub. “But you know, high profile case.” He shut it behind himself, hoping she got the message. “I’ll give you a ride home.”
“Sure.” He hated himself for the sadness in her voice, but they’d never work out. They were from different sides of the street. About as compatible as North-South magnets. Better to let her down now before any real damage occurred.
“I left extra food for Amir…” Poetry said, her footsteps retreating. “But maybe he’s hungry by now. Or lonely.”
Adrian winced when the icy water pelted him in the face. He deserved it.
# # # Kevin wanted to vomit. The stench of armpits and shit churned an already upset stomach, and he had to swallow the pastiness of his dry mouth a couple of times. He’d been in jail for days without anything to cook his brain. No weed. No coke. Nothing. They even took his hash pipes.
Kevin rolled on the cot, moaning when his joints flared in pain. That skanky bitch did this. He wouldn’t be here if she hadn’t left him. What was her fucking problem anyway? He hadn’t done anything wrong. Well, trashing her pad probably wasn’t a good idea. But she’d made him do it. After she sicced that ‘suit’ on him, Kevin had gone to get something for his nerves. He’d have to have a word with his dealer. That powder had some wicked shit cut in or something. Not a fun trip.
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