by Marilyn Lee
“No!” The days when he and Serge had shared their women had ended with their college days. There was no way he was going to share Cassy with another man. “Will you kindly get out of here?”
Serge shrugged. “Okay. No fucking. How about I climb in bed and get just a taste of her pussy with my mouth? Damn it looks and smells good enough to eat.” Serge grinned at him. “Have you tasted her yet?”
“Serge, get the hell out of here and don't come back uninvited!”
As silently as he'd appeared, Serge left. Chandler stood near the bed for several moments to make sure Serge really was gone before he sipped back into bed.
Ignoring what felt like a need to reach out and touch Cassy, assuring himself that she belonged strictly to him, he rolled onto his back, staring up at the darkened ceiling.
He should go before she woke and they both had to face the consequences of their night together. But now that Serge had seen her naked, he didn't dare leave. Serge wasn't above waking her and compelling her to sleep with him. Still, part of him wished he could leave. No matter how good he felt now, he was already beginning to regret having slept with her. It was going to create so many problems. More problems than sex with her was worth.
So why was he still lying here, waiting for her to either wake or just turn in her sleep and snuggle against him? He wanted that close, personal and emotional contact he'd experienced during their lovemaking.
More surprising and disturbing, was the tenderness he felt for her now—after the sex. Telling himself that it was desire didn't help, because he knew it was far more than desire. Sleeping with a woman shouldn't have had this affect on him. It never had before—not even with his ex-wife Karen, in the early days of their relationship when they'd lived to make love to each other.
He wondered uneasily if the statuette was somehow responsible for his feelings. After all, all his brothers had refused to accept it for one reason or another. Jason, five years his senior had urged him not to take it.
“Chan, you know great granddad was into some strange things when he lived in Louisiana. I wouldn't have that thing in my house for a million bucks.”
He had laughed. “Come on Jace, you make it sound as if you think it's cursed or something.”
“I don't know about its being cursed, but you know there's talk that he was sent North because he fell in love with a black woman and got her pregnant. Before they were forced apart, they were supposed to have exchanged charms and promised to one day find each other again.”
“And you think if you have the Ebony Venus, you'll be forced to fall in love with a black woman? Come on, Jace, your Cajun roots are showing.”
“Maybe so, but if I fall in love with a black woman, I want it to be me falling in love with her, not some long dead ancestor trying to recapture what he lost through me.”
Was that what was happening to him now? Was it he who wanted Cassy or was it his great grandfather who wanted what Cassy represented? Whoever wanted her, she was definitely wanted and adored.
Unable to suppress the urge any longer, he turned onto his side, gently pulled the sheet off her, and drew her back against him. The feel of her rounded buns resting against his thighs felt right. He slipped one arm around he waist, cupped the other over her big breasts, and nibbled at her neck.
“Chandler.” She murmured his name and settled her buns more firmly against him. Chandler. He smiled; pleased that even half asleep, she thought of him and not of some other long dead man. This was Chandler and Cassy. “I'm here. Go back to sleep, sweet.”
Instead, she turned in his arms. She rubbed her breasts and her bushy mound against him and his cock hardened.
A shudder ran through him when she reached between their bodies to cup him in a warm, soft hand. “Chandler?”
“You shouldn't do that...not unless you're prepared for the consequences,” he warned. “I'm already hard.”
Her low suggestive laugh sent a shock of lust careening through him. “So I've noticed.” She peppered his mouth with soft kisses. “You want to do something about it, cher?”
“And how!” He reached for a condom, sheathed himself, eased her onto her back, and sank balls deep into her sweet heat with one lusty thrust.
She began moving her hips, but he grabbed them and held them immobile while he just lay on her, in her, enjoying the heady feeling of being surrounded by her moist, heated tunnel. Her body felt tight and right; as if her pussy had been custom made for his aching cock. They had done this before—a long, long time ago. He had lost her then, but he had her back. Now. She was finally his again. He would never ever lose her again.
He buried his face against her neck, lowering his weight onto her. “I can't believe how good making love to you feels.”
She wrapped her arms and legs around him. “It feels good for me too.”
“No.” He lifted his head and looked down at her. “No. I mean this is good. Really good. Special.”
She smiled and lifted her hips against his. “Oh, Chandler! I'm so glad you feel it too. It's not just me.”
“No.” He stared down at her. Her short, natural hair gave way to long, silky dark tresses that he'd loved to bury his face in as they made love. Only, because she was afraid of getting pregnant, he usually took her dark, sensuous rump. It had been ages since he'd sank his aching cock into her tight, hot, bottom.
“It's not just you, mon cher. It was never just you. I've missed you. I never forgot you. Never. But now you're mine again.”
“Chandler? What...what are you talking about?”
He blinked down at her, shaking his head slightly. “What? What did I say?”
“You...you were talking as if we've been lovers before and calling me mon cher.”
“Does it bother you?”
“Yes. I'm Cassy, Chandler.”
“I know who you are. Please don't think I'm thinking of another woman. I'm not.” At least not consciously.
“Just as long as you know who you're with.”
He kissed her. “I do. I know it's you, Cassy.”
She stroked her fingers through his hair and he fought hard to think only of her. “Chandler? I want you to...fuck me; long and hard.”
He lifted as far away from her as her legs would allow, then he shoved his hips forward, sending his shaft plunging deep into her again. “Oh, sweet, that's the plan!”
In just a matter of moments he was lost—in her. Lost in a world of lust, desire, and tenderness that obliterated all thought. Inside her, he had no identify; no purpose other than to please her.
He trembled with the need to keep stroking and loving her until he felt the wild tremors in her pussy that signaled her fast approaching climax. Only then did he allow himself to come in her in a blissful explosion of pleasure.
He rolled over onto his back, carrying her with him so that she lay sprawled across him. He curled his fingers in her hair and kissed her lazily. “Oh, sweet. That was...“
“Fantastic,” she gasped, still breathing deeply.
“Yes,” he agreed. “It was.”
* * * * *
Cassy woke suffused with a warm, wonderful inner glow. She lay with her eyes closed for several moments, hugging her pillow. She felt marvelous. She stretched and immediately realized that she was naked. She turned her head and looked at the pillow beside her. In the early morning light, she saw that it, like the other side of the bed had been occupied.
She felt the difference in her body. Her breasts were sore. He'd spent a fair amount of time sucking them. And the ache inside her had been satisfied. This time he'd really been with her.
She sat up and looked at her bedside clock. It was seven-thirty. She looked around the room and sighed. He'd been there, but now he was gone.
Some of her joy evaporated. She fell back against her pillow, pulling the cover back over her. As she did, she heard a sound from the living room. He was still here. She was out of the bed like a shot.
At her bedroom door, she paused and looked down a
t herself. Deciding that she'd been shameless enough to last a lifetime, she opened a dresser drawer and took out an oversized nightshirt. She pulled it over her head, raked her fingers through her short, dark hair, and hurried into the living room.
He stood looking out the French windows. He turned as she paused uncertainly in the doorway. “Hi.”
She hesitated. Although he smiled, he seemed somehow withdrawn. Remembering how uninhibited she'd been with him, she flushed and averted her gaze. She'd actually begged him to fuck her. And he had; hard and relentlessly until she'd exploded into a blistering climax that had left her sobbing with pleasure.
He crossed the room and put his hands on her shoulders. “Hi,” he said again.
She looked up at him, her face still heated. “I...I thought you'd left.”
He brushed the back of his hand against her cheek. “I'm not much on lying around in bed once I wake up.”
She pressed her face against his hand. “You're fully dressed. Are you leaving?”
“I can stay...if you want me to.”
If she wanted him to? “What about you? What do you want?”
He cupped her face between his palms and kissed the end of her nose. “What I wanted last night—you.”
The knot of tension that had began to form in her gut, loosened. She smiled and leaned into him. “Oh, Chandler.”
He hugged her to him. “I know this is crazy, but I can't help wanting you.” He buried his face against her neck. “Would you like to go out to breakfast?”
She shook her head. “Maybe later. Right now what I'd really like is to go back to bed.”
He lifted his head and grinned at her. “Great minds think alike,” he said and swept her into his arms.
Later, lying in bed in his arms, with her head pillowed on his shoulder, she marveled at how good she felt. She'd never imagined sex could be so totally fulfilling. Her body felt good. She'd expected that. But more she felt a sense of contentment that she hadn't expected.
She loved the way he continued to kiss and caress her after their lovemaking, whispering softly to her. Just hearing his voice and feeling his big hands shaping and holding her created a sense of delicious after delight in her.
Chandler was her third lover. No matter how aroused she was, she'd never been able to initiate lovemaking with either of her other lovers. She lost track of how many times she and Chandler had sex that weekend. Every time was better than the last. Sometimes they made love, taking the time to explore and savor each other's bodies fully; other times they fucked like animals in heat until her bedroom was redolent with the smell of sex. But what really shocked Cassy even more was the many times she initiated sex, was how often she encouraged him to fuck her quick and hard after a tender, leisurely love making session.
Each time they made love, they both whispered in a combination of English and French. And it had taken all of her willpower, not to bare her rump and ask him to fuck her there. From the way he fondled her behind, she knew he would have welcomed the chance. But she did not do anal sex and damn if she'd let The Talisman drive her into doing something she'd always thought of as definitely not for her.
Chapter Six
Cassy practically floated to work on Monday morning. Chandler had awakened her in the middle of the night to make love one last time. Sex that time had been hot, explosive, and quick; with her sitting on his lap in a chair, slapping his thighs and riding his cock until he began to shudder.
“Oh, damn, cher! I'm coming! I'm coming!”
Acting quickly, she lifted her hips, drew his cock from her body, and ripped off the condom. She rapidly pumped his cock, keeping it aimed toward her body. Groaning, he splattered her stomach with come before falling back against the chair. “Oh, God, you are so sweet.”
Smiling, she leaned forward to kiss him. “You're pretty sweet yourself, lover.”
He picked her up and carried her back to bed where they lay together, caressing and kissing tenderly for half an hour. Finally, he pressed a long, lingering kiss against her mouth. “I have to go, cher.”
She'd panicked and reached out to grab him. “But, mon cher, you promised you wouldn't leave me again!”
They'd both frozen, staring at each other wide eyed. Finally, after what had seemed an eternity, she'd found her voice. “I'm sorry. I don't know where that came from. I...I'm really not the clinging vine type. I don't cling. I know you have to go.”
He'd sighed. “We both have bayou blood running through our veins, Cassy. One of these days we're going to have to talk about what that means. There's something else going on between us. Something we may have little control over.”
She'd shaken her head. “No! There's nothing going on except what we want to go on.”
“Cassy, my great grandfather and grandfather spoke French. I don't, but last night, I called you cher. And you called me mon cher. Several times. I know I spoke French to you and I know you understood what I was saying. On your application, you said you didn't speak any foreign languages.”
“I...I don't.”
“But you understood everything I said to you in French. Didn't you?”
“No!” But she had and she knew what it meant. She just didn't want to deal with it.
Long after he kissed her good bye and left her apartment, she lay in bed, a little frightened; the pillow he'd lay on clutched against her breasts. She knew now, without a doubt that The Talisman was driving her. Maybe driving Chandler too. But she didn't care. It felt right and anything that felt so right couldn't be bad.
She cast her doubts aside, refused to look into the jewelry box in her underwear drawer and left her apartment. She hummed all the way to work and couldn't stop grinning.
“Somebody had a great weekend,” Derri said when they met for lunch.
She nodded. “Derri, you have no idea.”
“I know, so tell me. What happened? You got a little loving, huh?”
She thought of her weekend. “Oh, Derri, I had a lot of loving and it was so...incredible.”
Derri leaned forward, her dark eyes centering on Cassy's face. “So he was a good lover, huh?”
“He's a great lover.”
She nodded. “I thought he would be. I mean with feet that big, his other...equipment had to be wicked in size.”
She stared at Derri. “His feet aren't that big.” But his cock was and boy did he know how to use it.
“What are you talking about? He wears a size thirteen at least.”
She blinked at Derri. “A thirteen? His feet are not...who...who are you talking about?”
“Who am I talking about? Who are you talking about?”
“Chandler Raven. Who else?”
“Chandler Raven!” To her surprise, Derri frowned. “You slept with him?”
“Yes.”
“Yeah? So? What was he like? Did you enjoy it?”
She blushed. “Yes! Oh, Derri, there is nothing in the world quite as wonderful as a handsome man with a big dick that he knows how to use.”
“Big dick he knows how to use, huh?”
“Yes. It's big and he knows how to use it.” She felt her twat convulse just thinking about him.
“Cass, I'm glad you enjoyed yourself, but do you think that was a good idea?”
“What? You mean because he's white?”
Derri hesitated and she frowned. Something was bothering Derri big time. She was not given to all the hesitation and uncertainly she'd displayed lately. “Well, mostly and because he's your boss. Cass, I thought you liked Frank.”
“I did...I do, but...I do. But Derri, Chandler makes me so hot. And he's...sweet.”
“Sweet? Cass, get a grip. Will you? He's a man with a hard-on. That makes for lust, not sweetness.”
She shrugged. “Whatever you call it, I like him. A lot.”
“Fine. Like him a lot, if you insist, but don't lose your head, or your prospective, Cass. It's sex. It might be good sex. Hell, if he has a big dick and knows how to use it, it's probably great s
ex. But it's still just sex. Don't start thinking anything else is going on.”
She remembered Chandler's tenderness after love making. He'd held and caressed her until she fell asleep. She loved that he didn't just sex her up, roll off her, and go to sleep. For her the aftermath of love making was almost as important as the actual act itself. And she'd never been with a man who handled it better than Chandler.
“Okay, Derri. Give it a rest already. I'm not falling for the guy. I have the hots for him. It's sex. Not love. Okay? Happy?”