by Taryn Quinn
This wasn’t the one I asked about intimate stuff. This was the deck that told me the ugly unvarnished truth.
I went back to my bed and folded myself back into a Lotus pose. I hissed out a breath as my body reminded me what I’d done just a few hours ago.
As if I could forget.
A notification popped on my iPad, blinking the screen to life. My background was my favorite drawing of Roz and Sylvia. That was what I should be focused on.
I closed my eyes and shuffled my deck. “Should I post a photo of my comic?”
The cards heated and tingled under my touch. It didn’t always happen that way. I was mostly an intuitive reader. Luna was the one who got more of a jolt from her gifts. I just usually instinctively knew it was time to stop shuffling and throw cards.
Not this time. They practically popped from the deck.
I threw three cards.
Desire, obstacle, solution.
The Fool, Three of Swords reversed, Six of Cups.
“Dammit.”
I swiped up the cards.
I knew I shouldn’t have asked. As if I didn’t know the true answer.
It was time to begin. Stop blocking the freaking pain of putting myself out there. I’d never be able to move forward if I didn’t grab that courage I used to have. Back when I flung myself into any creative venture without looking back.
When the hell had I lost my fucking wings?
I set my deck aside and pulled my iPad into my lap. I’d just post a little something to my stories on Instagram. They only lasted for twenty-four hours.
No one would even see it probably.
It was totally safe.
Before I could overthink it, I picked one with the little white fox curled up on Roz’s shoulder, her tiny face buried in her human’s wild red curls. Rain splashed the windowpane behind the cozy scene of Roz reading with a patchwork blanket in her lap and oversized glasses balanced on the tip of her upturned nose.
Serenity.
Safe enough.
Before I could second guess myself and delete my post, a horn bleated out my window, and a text buzzed from my phone in the kitchen as well as my flashing on my iPad.
PMS: Come outside.
Before I replied to him, I went to my jewelry tree and selected a pair of smoky quartz earrings. I definitely needed some energy purification. All the stress and chaos in my mind needed an outlet, so I would release them. The crystal would help me to find my sense of calm. Time to let go of anything that was holding me back.
I would stay in the present moment and look for the good.
Another text came through.
PMS: I’m coming up.
My eyes widened as I whirled around and took in the state of my apartment. It wasn’t in awful shape, but there was stuff everywhere. Books, tarot decks, hunks of crystal, sketchbooks, and random articles of clothing covered many of the surfaces, including the sofa.
Fuck.
Ryan: I don’t think that’s a good idea.
He was already at the door, knocking with heavy thumps of his knuckles. Rude. He didn’t even give me time to say if I was busy.
But when it came to PMS, that was surprising, how?
I hurried over to stuff the items on the couch underneath, so at least he had a place to sit. I hadn’t invited him over, so he got what he got. But yeah, I needed a maid. Or to spend an afternoon tidying up.
Probably more likely than the maid.
I flung open the door. “How did you get my—”
He pushed up his dark sunglasses and dragged me to him, cupping my jaw and silencing my irritated question with his firm, persuasive lips. He didn’t hesitate before sweeping his tongue inside and rendering me mute with slow, teasing flicks of heat that made flames scorch the base of my spine.
Literally, since his other hand rested there and I couldn’t breathe from the lack of space between our bodies.
He finally moved back and rested his forehead against mine. We were both breathless. “You were saying?”
“Who are you again?”
His laughter was a deep rumble that made me grin in response before I caught myself. I was annoyed.
Right.
“My resumé was not meant for you to use to make surprise visits.”
He was already nudging me aside to enter my apartment, continuing the whole uninvited theme.
I tried not to see my place as he would. I had people over all the time. Usually, I cleaned up a little better than this, but I’d been distracted this week.
That was a good word for it.
He went right to the sofa and bent over to pick up a dark piece of material sticking out from beneath the piece of furniture. That was when I noticed he was not wearing a suit. In fact, he wasn’t even wearing pants.
“Whoa, you own shorts?”
Damn, he had a nice ass too. Who’d’ve guessed? Well, every part of the man was fine, so I shouldn’t have been surprised.
He turned toward me and held up the item he’d found, a black T-shirt that proclaimed Witches Make Better Lovers. It had stress lines around the chest area because I’d had the shirt forever and it had never fit quite right.
“I can say this is a true statement. Put it on.”
My nipples immediately hardened so I crossed my arms over them. “Excuse you? I’m already dressed.”
He stepped toward me. “So, get undressed.”
Nope, nuh uh, I wasn’t doing that again. Repeats were dangerous.
“Uh, not sure if you realize, but we aren’t at work right now. You don’t get to boss me around here.”
His voice dropped to a level guaranteed to disintegrate my panties. “Would you be more likely to comply if I say please?”
It was a lot harder to maintain my stiff backbone when my thighs were trembling. “No?”
The corner of his sinful mouth lifted. “I hear a question mark.”
My eyes zeroed in on his bandaged wrist. “What happened to you? That wasn’t there earlier when we...”
“Turning shy on me, Miss Moon?” He tucked a curl behind my ear. “I love your hair all wild. I want to feel it falling around us when I slide into you.”
Ignore him. He’s just horny.
Ignore yourself while you’re at it.
Why were we both in heat? It was really freaking annoying.
And inconvenient.
I cleared my throat. I’d just not answer him. That should work.
“What happened to your wrist?”
He tossed the shirt on the sofa and offered his arm for my inspection. Gently, I touched the base of his palm. Right below it, a red angry-looking scratch sat just above the narrow gauze bandage.
“Did I do that?”
“The scratch? Either you did it or my secret mystery lover. So secret I don’t even remember her. “
I bit my lip and touched the scratch. “Sorry. Didn’t realize I got so enthusiastic.”
“You’re apologizing for that? Hell, I wanted to get it tattooed there but the guy didn’t think that was wise with possible infection.”
My gaze lifted to his as I continued to stroke his wrist. It was almost instinctual, the need to draw out discomfort and take it into myself. Especially his.
Which didn’t make any sense at all.
“Take a look,” he said when I didn’t move to uncover the tattoo.
I peeled off the bandage and swallowed at the combination symbol of a moon and sun in virtually the same place I had a crescent moon and scattered stars on my own inner wrist. His was on the right, mine the left.
“Dex told me not to tattoo your name on me no matter how good the pussy was.” He jerked a shoulder when my gaze shot up to his. “It was spectacular, but I didn’t tell him that.”
I couldn’t decide whether I wanted to laugh—or cry. “Moon, huh, ace?”
“Goddess Moon.” He pushed back that same errant curl. “Also, a reminder that there is more contained in the earth and sky than you can imagine, Horatio. Or somet
hing like that.”
Now I did laugh. “Quite possibly the worst mangling of that line ever.”
“Yet you recognized it.”
“I did.” I covered the reddened tattoo and made myself take a definite step back. “So, what made you decide to invade my privacy and stop over for a visit?”
“Not the only thing I invaded today.”
I raised a brow.
He tucked his hands in his pockets. He had on a blindingly white T-shirt that showed off his golden tan. How did a lawyer lizard get such a glow?
“I figured we could take a ride to my place, eat under the stars.”
It moved me more than it should have. This guy liked his romantic gestures. “We screwed on a conference table. Don’t think we need a followup date.”
He didn’t acknowledge me. “I debated bringing Smoky along, but he’s touchy after today’s litter box mess. He’s afraid of the vacuum. Can you imagine?” He walked in front of my bedroom divider, examining all the shelves and crevices and the many items contained there. Thoughtfully, he trailed his fingers over a large hunk of citrine. “What does this one do?”
“Do?”
“You know, aid in. What is it used for?”
“It energizes and encourages self-confidence, and it also attracts success and wealth. Don’t touch it too much. You already have enough money. Leave some for the rest of us.”
He moved on to my collection of tarot decks. “What if I wanted you to pull cards for a particular question I have? Would you do it? Or should I find another reader?”
“Ask Luna,” I said immediately.
“You said card reading can be as intimate as sex, but yet you want to send me to your best friend.” He glanced over his shoulder, still strolling and examining my possessions. “Interesting.”
“You aren’t Luna’s type.”
“But I’m yours?”
“Absolutely not.”
“Your orgasms seemed to indicate otherwise. What about this?” I assumed he would pick up one of the velvet tarot bags on his eye level, which was personal enough. But he diverted to one of the uppermost shelves almost out of my reach and picked up a purple glass moon-topped cylinder.
A very special one.
“And this?” He turned toward me, running his blunt-tipped finger over the tapered end, offset with small ripples in the glass. “A beautiful piece. What is it used for?”
That cultured voice did unspeakable things to questions he should not be asking.
I gave a nonchalant shrug. “It’s decorative.”
“Is that so? But it’s built so...specifically.” He rubbed his fingers along the glass bubbles while his heated gaze roamed over my face. “These smaller ripples right here almost make me think of—”
“Never mind.” I grabbed the moon cylinder and gave him a light shove.
Right toward my drawing table, bathed in a shaft of sunlight. One that shone right on my scattered drawings.
Goddess, no.
He’d taken no more than a step when I grabbed him from behind and forced the glass back into his hand. The damn thing was burning up from his touch anyway. “It’s a sex toy. Rippled for my pleasure.”
His fingers closed around mine on the shaft’s graduated tip. “If you think I didn’t know that, you must’ve been impressed I managed to put the condom.”
I couldn’t help laughing as I tried to slip back—not that he allowed it.
He spun me around and dragged the glass shaft up my thigh, right between my legs. He pulsed it against me there, holding the warmth against my clit through my dress and my panties. His mouth came down hard on mine as he rubbed tiny circles against my already throbbing flesh.
Then he drew back to lift the glass to his lips, sucking slowly while I fought to maintain eye contact. Knowing he knew what I’d done with it in the past—it’d been a while—only made me hotter. Wetter.
Which he realized as soon as he rolled up my dress and nudged aside my panties to tease me directly.
“Fuck, Ryan,” he groaned against my ear.
At the moment, I had no complaints about that idea.
His thumb rolled over my swollen clit before he drew the glass tip over me again and again, catching the sounds I made with his lips against mine.
Then he tossed the glass toy toward the sofa. “My fingers and tongue and cock will be what gets you off, not that.”
Nineteen
Preston picked me up so fast that I slapped a hand against his shoulder for balance. He swung his gaze around, and for a second, I imagined him taking me on my drawing table.
Would it hold our weights? And would coming my brains out literally on top of my sketches provide some creative...juice?
Not that I wanted him anywhere near my sketches, so I’d tried to distract him with sex toy 101.
Turned out he excelled at distraction himself.
“Finally,” he said under his breath, spotting my bed on the other side of the shelf divider. He juggled me while I flailed at him, but he still managed to sweep aside my laptop—though not the papers that crunched beneath my body as he set me down.
My eyes popped wide. More sketches. Dammit, why was I so cursed?
He reared back to haul off his shirt from behind his head, and I forgot anything except his toned chest and abs and that buffet of shifting muscles as he ranged over me to kiss me again.
His lips bruised mine as he fought with the many buttons on my dress. When he finally got it open, he swallowed a sound of pain at my lack of a bra, his gorgeous eyes devouring every inch of me.
“I love these.” He trailed kisses between my breasts, cupping them in his wide hands. His teeth scraped my nipple, and I jolted upward on the bed, trying to discreetly slide my sketches out from under me.
The problem was that I was also very turned on, and now his mouth was skating downward, heading toward that place he’d already primed. My panties went soaring, and I didn’t even see where they ended up.
“Love this even more,” he murmured, lowering his mouth to my pussy.
His gaze zeroed in on my face while he licked me. His focus was erotic as hell and I forgot all about my sketches and everything else as his long fingers slipped inside me and stretched me open. I was still a little sore from earlier, but he wasn’t being gentle with me. I didn’t think he could be right now. His touches were rough, but somehow exactly what I needed as he sealed his lips over my aching clit. He rubbed over a certain spot inside me that had me digging my toes into the bed, and then I was arching and grasping his hair as I came apart for him.
I cried out, dragging on his thick hair to keep him right where he was.
He didn’t even pause, just kept fingering and tonguing me until I flew into another orgasm, even more powerful than the first.
I rolled on my side to try to breathe, to try to hear beyond the pounding of blood in my ears. I felt him at my back, pulling up my dress that he still hadn’t fully removed and pushing his thick cock inside me while I was still convulsing.
He retreated an inch. “Shit. Fuck. Dammit. I forgot a condom.”
I giggled breathlessly into my bent arm. “I’m covered.”
“Are you?” He nosed my hair away from my ear. “Can I? I never have before. And God, I want to.”
I nearly teased him. It was our way after all. But I glanced back and saw the deep lines of tension bracketing his eyes and decided he really needed an orgasm.
Fresh off my pair of them, I was feeling generous. And I was curious too.
“I haven’t either,” I admitted. “Do it.”
He thrust into me so deeply that I swore he hit the end of me in one pass. His teeth sliced into my shoulder, and he banded his arm around my belly to pull me back into him. The juxtaposition between how he was holding me so tightly and driving into me so desperately made me claw at his tensed forearm. His hand came up to clasp my bare breast through my open dress and I pushed back against him, grinding into him as if I’d never come at all.
His hot, hard length grew even more inside me, and I couldn’t stifle my moans as he stroked into me over and over. Then he dropped his hand between my legs and frantically rubbed my clit, holding his cock inside me at just the perfect angle while I clutched him and let go one more time.
And this time when I fell, he fell with me, burying his face in my hair, his body shaking against mine as he emptied himself into me.
Nothing between us but skin.
His breath fluttered against my neck, already slowing into an easy rhythm. Lulling my heartbeat to match the beat of his.
Synced up entirely.
I wasn’t one to fall asleep after sex, especially when I was squeezed into my too small bed with a huge, overwhelmingly warm man who hadn’t even bothered to lose all of his clothing—again. But apparently, coming oh, five times since lunch tended to wear a girl out.
When I woke, my face was smushed into a piece of paper, and I was half on top of my laptop with the keys mashed under my thigh. I felt decidedly achy between my legs, and a quick check of my breasts confirmed they were reddened from Preston’s stubble.
Oh, and my thighs were wet, but not just from my deluge of orgasms. I was pretty sure he’d cleaned me off while I’d been in a fucking coma.
Literally.
I reared up, remembering my sketches. Oh my goddess. Were they all still here? I got on my hands and knees to grab every one of them, tossing the laptop to the side to pluck up the last paper beneath it.
Which was how Preston found me when he entered the room, amiably chatting on the phone.
“I’m so sorry, Mary. I know I agreed to be there to sign the papers this afternoon with my notary. Yes, my assistant was unavoidably called away. Oh, she had a very good reason. A personal emergency, if you will. Surely you understand.”
With my bare ass in the air and my open dress falling forward over my head, I clutched my sketches to my chest and prayed to disappear.
Maybe I’d be beamed up into outer space by a more intelligent life form than a woman who fucked her boss multiple times in one day.
Without a condom, no less. I was practically a walking billboard for questionable decisions.