by Tina Donahue
“Define normal.”
“Oh hey.” He crossed the room. His cock bounced merrily with each step. “You’re not using bird guts, are you?”
Becca forced her attention from his beefy shaft to his face, then shook her head, finally understanding his question. “No. Just herbs and stuff.”
“What kind of stuff?”
Her attention dropped to his cock again. She frowned at her lack of restraint. Her foolish desire. What she’d never have. “Stuff you buy in a regular grocery store. Stuff you’ve eaten. Stuff mortals have eaten. Now, I mean it, dammit. Turn. Around.”
He backed away from her snarl. The padded table stopped him. He rubbed his bumped ass, his birthmark.
Becca finally remembered it, figuring that’s why he hadn’t wanted to turn around. He didn’t want her looking at or making fun of that part of him. She wouldn’t. Though she might lick it a couple of times. “If you refuse to turn around, at least close your eyes.”
He rolled them first, then finally obeyed her on a frustrated huff.
Becca locked her knees to keep from going to him, suckling his prominent Adam’s apple and bristly chin, tonguing his tiny nipples. Beneath his half-moon navel, dark hairs trickled to his groin. More hair dusted his muscular thighs and calves.
She pressed her fingers to her lips to keep from telling him that he put Michelangelo’s statue of David to shame. No artist, however talented, could have adequately captured his male beauty.
He shifted his weight. His rod swung a little to the right then back to the left, like an erotic pendulum. “How long will it take you to mix that stuff?”
All day and night, if Becca had her way, which she didn’t. “Bored already?”
“Nope. You?”
He had to know she was staring at him, lusting after his perfect body, wicked sense of humor and kind heart. Making her number one of the next thousand women who’d want him. Turning away, she muttered, “I’ll be through in no time at all.”
“Just tell me when I can open my eyes.”
A few minutes later, Becca had finished. To keep him from suspecting as much, she moved the bottles around, creating a mild racket as she scoped out his muscular biceps and impressive forearms, counted his abs, noticed the mole on the inside of his left thigh, and the faint freckles on his shoulders.
Becca would have given several years of her life to be able to touch them. Oh hell, she should have at least taken pictures of him with her iPhone. Too late now.
“I’m done,” she said.
Eric started at how close she was. Just a kiss away.
“On the table,” she ordered, patting the buttery leather.
He climbed on. “You know, I’ve had dreams like this.”
“Being treated for your affliction?”
His smile faded. “Being taken advantage of by a woman.”
Against her better judgment, Becca ran her thumbnail up his hairy calf.
He grunted appreciatively.
She whispered, “Being taken advantage of isn’t in your contract.”
His pecs trembled with his heavy sigh. “It should be.”
She lowered her face to hide her grin. “Go on, lie down. I won’t hurt you.”
“It’s okay if you do. I’m kind of liking this.”
He looked like he had other thoughts when she tightened the restraints. Eric squeezed his fists and yanked, trying to break free of the leather.
“Careful,” Becca warned. “You’re going to hurt yourself.”
“More than you have? I’m trying to keep the circulation going that you cut off. These are restraints not tourniquets. Loosen them up.”
“No. They’re perfect.” She went back to the sink and returned with a champagne flute. “Drink this.”
“That’s the potion?”
“Yep.”
He arched one eyebrow. “You serve it to all your clients in a flute?”
“You’re the first. If you were a were, I’d probably put it in a doggy bowl for you to lap up. A vamp might get it intravenously. Since you don’t seem to like surgery or anything involving pain, I decided to put it in a glass. Go on. Sip.”
Becca cupped the back of his head and lifted it slightly so he could take a drink.
He made a face first, then dipped his tongue into the liquid and smacked his lips. Delight registered on his face. “Not bad. Reminds me of pink lemonade.”
Becca frowned at the glass, then looked over. “Hold on. This is my Crystal Light. Be right back.”
“Aw shit,” he said after tasting the real potion. “What happened to the wine cooler? This crap is worse than dirty socks.”
“No pain, no gain. Go on. Just one more sip.”
He turned his face away. “Why only one?”
“We better take this slow.”
Eric regarded his spread-eagled body, restraints and nudity. “Little late for that, wouldn’t you say?”
“Drink,” she growled and snickered.
“Only for you.” He scrunched his face, took another sip, then heaved air as though he’d just been shocked back to life.
Becca released his head. “Relax.”
“I’m trying. I can’t. Is it working?”
“It’s only been a second. You’re just scared.”
“Oh hey, I’m never—”
He’d stopped abruptly, his eyes widening at something only he could see or feel. Just as quickly, his lids slid down and his head fell to one side.
Becca’s stomach clenched. “Eric?”
Nothing.
Oh holy shit. “Eric!”
“Becca!” Constance pounded on the door. “Everything okay?”
“You want us to call someone?” Heather cried.
Like who? 9-1-1 for Immortals? “Everything’s fine. Stay out there. Do not unlock the door and come in here.”
“Eric?” Becca shook his shoulders. His fingers flopped as though he were a ragdoll. His legs didn’t move when she ran her nail up them. His cock was fucking flaccid. “Eric, please. Oh crap, wake—”
He laughed. “Had you there, didn’t—ow.”
Becca smacked his shoulder again.
“Damn.” He tried to turn away from her. The restraints stopped him. “That hurts.”
“Baby.”
He met her glare with his own. “When are you going to be nice to me?”
Becca stepped back. Real pain—the emotional kind—along with raw desire flooded his face. Couldn’t be from the potion. It was supposed to release the beast, not tender needs. Ones as great as her own.
Not knowing what to think, Becca went with her gut and ran her fingers through his thick, silky hair. “Sorry.”
He smiled. “It’s okay.”
“No, it’s not.” He was being too nice. Again. Not that she minded, but he would and might want more than a touch of his beast unleashed. Something that would totally screw him up.
“You didn’t mean anything,” he said. “I get it. Don’t stop.”
Becca brought back her hand. That’s when she noticed. She stared at her palm then his head and gasped.
“What?” He tried to see what she had but couldn’t. “What?”
Clumps of his hair fell from her fingers. Worse—thicker, darker hair, similar to a gorilla’s, sprouted on his pecs, torso and belly.
That, he saw. “Oh holy fuck.”
Becca pressed her forehead against the door, her iPhone to her ear and tried not to panic. “Mom, this has to be fixable.” She spoke mega-low. “Please tell me it is.”
Behind her, Eric moaned, “Oh fuck. Oh holy fuck.”
Rowena clucked her tongue on the other end of the call. “Is that your Greek god? Does he always talk like that?”
I. Want. To. Die. Becca spoke through her teeth. “He’s upset, Mo
m. He has a right to be. His head is bald and the rest of him is…” She couldn’t continue. Thick, shaggy hair was still sprouting from Eric’s ears, his nostrils, the soles of his feet. Every-freaking-where it shouldn’t be. “You said this would work.”
“I said it might. Clearly, him being a god is different than if he was a demon, vampire, or a warlock.”
“You think?”
“Becca, I’m trying to help, all right? No reason to get snotty.”
She wanted to scream. “Tell me what to do. What’s the antidote? Holy shit, there is an antidote, isn’t there?”
“Oh fuck,” Eric moaned.
Rowena scolded, “You two need to clean up your language.”
“Mom.”
“Okay, okay. Let me think.”
The minutes crawled by. Eric alternately groaned, growled and swore. Tufts of hair were now sprouting on his palms and elsewhere.
“Mom, his lips and tongue are getting hairy. What are we going to do? Are you still there?”
“Of course I am. I’m thinking.”
“Don’t take too long. We have to get him back to the way he was when he first came in here. He can’t leave looking like this.” She lowered her voice even more. “He can barely speak.”
Gagging sounds poured from him. He swore. The hair muffled it.
“You did have him sign the contract before you gave him anything, didn’t you?” Rowena said.
Becca bounced on her heels. “Why are you asking?”
“Just wanted to be certain, that’s all. Try this.”
“Wait.” Becca grabbed a pen and notepad to write down the potion. “Go on.”
Rowena told her what she needed.
“You’re sure?” Becca asked.
“Relatively.”
Nauseous, Becca scribbled the last ingredient. “Got it. Bye.”
“Okay,” she said to Eric. “Just give me a sec to mix the stuff.”
“You mean another potion from your mom?” He gagged again then spit out a wad of hair. “Isn’t there anyone else you could call?”
“She’s the best.”
He groaned. “What if it kills me? Oh shit. That may be the only way to fix—”
“Stop talking like that. Gods can’t be killed.” As far as Becca knew, which wasn’t much. “You’re going to be fine.” Her hands shook so badly, she dropped two containers and spilled the contents of the third.
Eric thrashed. He cursed. He spit up more hair.
“Here.” She held up his head as she had before. “Only a sip.”
He tried to guzzle it.
“Eric.”
“What more could it do to me?”
Becca tried to picture him as a woman…a tall, muscular, ugly woman…then pushed the image away, praying that wouldn’t happen.
She put the flute aside and held his hand.
He curled his fingers over hers. “Don’t let go. Please.”
“I won’t. I’ll be here until this…”
He winced at her hesitation. “What’s it doing now? Don’t keep it from me. I have to know. No, I don’t want to.”
“It’s okay. Really. You’re back.”
He stared at her, then what he could see of his body. His pecs and torso were all caramel-colored skin again. His palms, the soles of his feet, his lips and tongue as hairless as they’d been before.
He looked upward, straining to see his hair. “What’s happening on my head?”
“You look the same as you did when you came in.”
Eric collapsed and gulped air. “Thank—wait. What about my junk?” He craned his neck to see. “Did anything happen to it? Aw shit, not that.”
“Take it easy. It looks fine.”
“Does it work?” Panic whisked across his face. “I don’t think it’s working.”
“Hang on.” Becca released his hand and moved to his cock. As far as she could see, it looked slightly longer than it had before he’d sipped the potion. “I think it’s bigger.”
He grinned then went deathly pale. “What if it’s bloated because it’s dead?”
“It’s not dead.” Becca ran her fingertips down his shaft. It blossomed faster than a morning glory responding to the first rays of the sun. In seconds, his erection was impressive as all hell. Thick. Hard. Macho-man virile. “It’s definitely okay.”
Becca kept stroking, just to make certain. She inhaled deeply, trembling at his rod’s musky scent.
Eric grunted. A coarse, masculine sound. His toes curled and his fingers fisted. He growled, “Come here.”
She played with his crown, running her fingertip over the satiny skin to the bumpier part in back, then around the tiny slit.
“Becca.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Come. Here.”
This time, his command brooked no argument. It was bad boy through and through. From the effects of the two potions? Her fondling his cock? Becca couldn’t stop. She ran her thumb over his slit again. “What?”
“Now.”
Becca went to him more dutifully than she’d done with any man. He oozed naked lust and intolerable desire. “You feeling okay?”
His nostrils flared slightly. His irises darkened from hazel to deep chocolate brown.
He wasn’t okay. At least the okay he’d been before the last potion. Meaning, nice. Polite. This was the new Eric.
His raw masculine allure transfixed Becca.
“Closer,” he ordered.
She leaned down. Her sigh mingled with his.
“Closer,” he whispered.
Losing all restraint, she brushed her mouth over his and whimpered.
He pulled against the restraints, wanting to be free.
Becca kept him her prisoner, cupping his bristly cheek, slipping her tongue into his awesome mouth. Aw damn. The sun couldn’t be hotter. The Gulf wetter. He tasted clean, sweet and completely male.
On a shameless groan, he pushed her tongue aside, filling her mouth instead. She suckled his tongue and ran her free hand over his sculptured abs to the tangle of hair on his groin.
Eric lifted his hips, offering himself to her.
Becca cradled his rod and ran her thumb over the small fissure in his crown, loving the moisture that verified his passion. She shivered in delight. He pulled his mouth free. “Take off your clothes.”
She eased back, not certain she’d heard him correctly.
“Do it,” he ordered. “Now.”
Becca kept running her fingers over his slit, turning him on, sending her pulse past the point of no return.
“Becca.”
Lightheaded and horny, Becca was torn between fleeing the room or falling off the abstinence wagon.
As though there was a freaking choice. This was certainly her only chance with him. She tore at her clothes, ripping the ties of her top to get the stupid thing off. Her harem pants snagged on her sandals.
“No. The heels stay on,” Eric ordered. “So does the jewelry. Lose the bra and thong.”
She did. Oh hell, she couldn’t think of anything except the next few seconds. Hopefully, minutes.
His smile was beyond depraved, promising a taste of damnation and a whole lot of heaven with each kiss, lick, fuck.
“Get me out of these things.” He yanked on the leather restraints.
“No.”
He glared. “You can’t keep me tied up.”
“You’re not tied. You’re buckled. Now keep quiet.”
“No fucking way. I said—”
His words dropped away, his command forgotten as Becca climbed on the table—as though it were the most natural thing in the world to do—her cunt facing him, his precious package mere inches beneath her lips.
He smelled of life, a male beast, a man she truly liked even though she shouldn
’t. Refusing to think about the downside of this, Becca whispered, “Bon appétit.”
She dove in, rubbing her nose over his hairy groin first, wanting his scent on her. Next, she eased his cock aside and licked his balls.
Eric stiffened and let out a bawdy cry.
A fist rapped lightly, uncertainly on the door. Heather spoke just loud enough to be heard. “Are you all right?”
“Go away,” Eric barked.
“Don’t come in, please,” Becca pleaded.
“Okay. I’m sorry. I just thought—”
Eric drowned out Heather’s unending apology with a wild moan. Becca would have smiled, but she was too busy easing his right ball into her mouth.
The man practically wept in joy. He made noises Becca had never heard before, maybe Greek god talk—who knew?—then pulled himself together and licked her cunt.
Becca’s tongue stalled on his sac.
He licked again, dragging his tongue up her cleft to her nub. With impressive skill, he held the tiny nodule between his teeth and licked it mercilessly.
She lost all coherent thought at the warmth pooling in her groin and thighs. Civilization fell away, allowing Becca to revert to her animal nature, wanting nothing except to be as hedonistic as possible. She slipped his cock into her mouth, taking him in until her chin touched his thick pelt. Cupping his balls, she fondled them gently.
He wasn’t as delicate with her clit. Licking, suckling, claiming until her knees shook and her body felt too heavy to keep up.
On a whimper then a strained moan, Becca fought climax, never wanting it to end.
Eric was the same. Every time he came close to release, he tensed his legs and curled his toes, clearly battling it. He concentrated on her pleasure instead, circling the area around her nub, then unexpectedly licking her clit once more, keeping her off guard.
Needy. Wanting.
Damp with perspiration, close to collapse, Becca submitted, delivering herself to him, welcoming the extraordinary sensations that rolled through her.
All while she continued to work his cock in and out of her mouth.
With a burst of willpower she couldn’t match, he suckled her clit as it had never been suckled before.
Becca came on a joyous squeal. His piercing shout signaled his release, along with his come spurting into her mouth. Still struggling for air, she drank his creamy fluid, loving its flavor, so different from the warlocks, demons and weres she’d hooked up with.