Accidentally in Love With a God (2012)

by Mimi Jean Pamfiloff

  Gods. They felt so good. So effing-damned good.

  Before I had a chance to even think of what to say, his hot tongue parted my lips, and I found myself accepting it indulgently. His thick waves of soft hair fell like a curtain around our faces.

  Okay. Annny minute now. That little scorching sensation was going to kick in… and…

  His demanding tongue began making rhythmic, forceful strokes against mine—a seductive display of what the rest of his body craved from my flesh. He gripped my chin with his powerful hand and thrust his thumb against my bottom lip, widening my mouth, demanding I take more of him. It was as if he was desperate to be inside me, and I found myself equally as desperate to oblige.

  His sweet, hot breath heaved between my lips. I inhaled his scent, relishing the sensation of Guy’s scent filling my lungs, his weight on top of me. His smell was intoxicating. Yes. Man-crack.

  His large, strong hand slipped from my mouth and raked down the length of my neck and chest, then forcefully tugged my shirt up in a crude gesture of entitlement, exposing my bare breasts.

  His primal gaze studied my face for one intense moment before his eyes traveled down to my breasts like they were something he’d just hunted and claimed for himself. A prize.

  “Mmmm,” he said and then dipped his head. His silky black hair fanned over my shoulder as he began working his warm, wet mouth over my nipple, treating my breast like an ice cream cone about to melt on a hot summer day. Whatever energy pulsed through him now charged though my sensitive flesh, but there was no searing pain like before. This was all euphoric, mind-blowing tingles, irresistible to my poor sex-deprived body. The flow of blood rushed between my legs, readying me to take him. I bit my lower lip with the stark pleasure of it and burrowed my fingers deep in his hair while he eagerly sucked.

  I’ll stop him. Or, I’ll stop…in a minute, maybe ten. His tongue started dancing in little circles over the hardened tip of my breast.

  Let the poor guy have more ice cream. It’s sooo hot out, my lust-driven voice argued.

  No, Emma. Bad, my rational-mind warned. At least for once, the combative voices in my head were my own. Refreshing.

  As I was about to tell him to stop, he nudged my legs apart with his knees and ground himself against me with one long, scrumptious stroke, sending a shockwave of erotic tingles through my most intimate parts. I let out a moan and dug my fingers into his shoulders, almost plummeting off the orgasm-cliff right then and there.

  My moan sent him off a cliff of his own, the self-control cliff. His body trembled as he pushed his thick, hard shaft hungrily, rhythmically between my legs. His heavy breathing turned into primal panting. And that grinding, that delicious ache, the pulsing of my soft flesh begging for him, all created a divine pressure building deep inside. The electricity rushing through our bodies.

  It was like being sent to another world. My new heaven. And we weren’t even having sex?

  Pull that foot back, Emma. You’re not cliff diving with this man. Back away from the orgasm-cliff, Emma. Do you hear me? said my rational-voice. But it was quickly losing the debate.

  He bathed my breasts with the steam of his breath for a moment longer, and then his slick, hedonistic lips worked their way to my collarbone, his tongue sliding and massaging in tune with his pumping hips. He found that sensitive hollow at the base of my neck, making my entire body undulate as he savored and sucked. All the while, the grinding between my legs and palming of my breasts continued relentlessly.

  Cliff! Cliff! Cliff! my naughty-voice chanted.

  But it wasn’t…he wasn’t…we weren’t…supposed to…Oh gods, I couldn’t think. And his smell...I was drunk with it. “But how, Guy?” I finally managed to whisper. “How? You…”

  “I don’t know, and I don’t care,” he panted against my neck. “I’ve waited seventy-thousand years, Emma. Seventy-thousand, lonely fucking years for you.”

  The words floated into my ears, sticking like a sacred commandment I couldn’t ignore. Yes, I thought, for you. I…am…for…you. My mind drifted to those shimmering turquoise eyes, that enormous male frame blanketing my body, those warm, sweaty, diamond-cut muscles, his primal grinding against my wet entrance through my sweatpants. My hips urging him on and on.

  Okay, okay. But did you see the size of that man’s gear? And that was when it was taking a nap.

  He returned his full lips to mine and kissed me with such hunger that our teeth scraped. So delicious.

  Penises don’t nap! And his was born to keep you awake. Allll. Night. Long. Stop making excuses. Jump. Jump!

  Put it this way, you’ve never been anywhere near a cliff and you’re going to take on Kalaupapa? It was the world’s highest cliff, in Hawaii. I’d done a report on it once.

  He shifted his weight to my side, and I felt his powerful hand plowing down the length of my torso, working its way to my waistband. He began tugging at my sweats. Down, down, down. All the way down. Leaving me with just my t-shirt pulled up to my neck and my panties.

  He looked me over with those wild, lust-filled eyes, “Ooh, the infamous pink thong. I’ve dreamed of seeing you in those.” His eyes shifted to meet mine. “But I’ve been tortured with visions of you without of them.”

  Okay. Compromise, said rational-voice. You get on top, check things out and then decide.

  Deal, said naughty-voice. I shifted my weight and rolled him onto his back. He didn’t resist, in fact, he smiled.

  I straddled him and caught a glimpse of his heaving chest. He looked uninhibited and hungry. His eyes were changing to a dark emerald green with swirls of sky blue.

  He sat up, pressing his bare chest to mime. He cupped my ass and pulled me into his thick erection between my legs.

  “Oooh,” I involuntarily groaned. I could feel myself slipping toward the point of no return quickly.

  You’re not ready for this, Emma. You can’t handle a man like him.

  We had a deal! Check out the gear, then decide, argued naughty voice.

  Now or never. I slipped my hand between us and gripped his erection through the silky black fabric of his boxers. His body instantly jerked with pleasure as I pushed his cock against my wet panties. My fingers didn’t come close to wrapping around that girth. He was enormous. He was also beyond sexy and just the thought of trying to slide him inside me started to send me over the edge. So much man. So thick. So ready. So…mine. I slid myself up and down its length, squeezing and massaging his cock. The fact I was a virgin, no longer registered. I wanted. I needed. I wasn’t leaving his bed until I had him inside me.

  He suddenly grabbed the hem of my t-shirt and began pulling it off. The necklace I still wore caught in my hair. He gave a quick tug and the chain broke free. The amulet tumbled to the floor. A searing pain shot through me, and I shoved back from him, writhing in pain, screaming.

  “Emma!”

  I curled into a tight ball as the scorching fire jolted every muscle in my body, making me shiver with excruciating convulsions.

  Two panicked guards burst through the front door, Xavier following behind them. “Oh, heavens. We were outside waiting to talk to you and heard screaming—”

  Guy’s angry words almost blew out my eardrums when he ordered them to leave.

  I rolled over, burrowing my head under several pillows.

  As the pain dissipated, humiliation took its place. What had I just done? Correction. Almost done?

  I heard Xavier and the two men scramble from the room. Guy muttered something unintelligible at the ceiling, then said, “Emma, I…” I peaked at him from under a pillow. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, covering his face with his hands. “Why? Why did you do that?” he said.

  I flipped over, gripping the sheets, and sat up. “Well—I—Christ, Guy. I didn’t mean for that to happen. One minute I was just giving you a taste of your own medicine, and then you were—were giving it to me.”

  “But you knew, Emma, we’re not compatible. I could have killed you. What were you thi
nking?”

  He was blaming me and acting like he’d had zero participation? “Screw you.”

  Okay. Not so classy. Or civilized. But come on. I almost gave the man—or deity, whatever—my virginity in a heat of passion, and he was talking to me like a child who’d colored over an original Da Vinci with a Sharpie.

  “Yes. I know that’s what you were about to do, but how?” he asked.

  Smug jerk. I began to cry and pulled a pillow to my face, flopping down on to the bed. “I don’t know. I don’t.”

  “Shhh. Okay.” He stoked the back of my head. “I’m sorry. We’ll figure this out. It’ll be okay. Just please don’t cry. I hate it when you cry.”

  I nodded, but didn’t bother lifting my head.

  “Stay right there. I’ll be back,” he said.

  I heard him get out of the bed, slip on his pants, and pad to the door.

  There was a rumbling of raised voices outside, and then the door opened.

  “Emma? Get decent. You need to hear this.”

  Chapter THIRTY-ONE

  Guy let Xavier back in. But not before flashing an apologetic glance over his shoulder. Was the news going to be that bad? He eyes said “yes.”

  After providing a ten-minute apology for barging in and interrupting what had almost been a moment I’d remember for the rest of my life, Xavier told us about Friar Bernardino de Sahagún who’d dedicated his life to recording and documenting the history and folklore of Mesoamerica as the Spaniards took over most of Latin America.

  Now, don’t get me wrong. Xavier had a calling, which I respected to the n’th degree. But what it had to do with my almost-act of carnal lust with a god well, I didn’t get the point. Until, that is, he explained how the friar recorded a small group of Mayan descendants near the border of Belize who discovered a mine filled with black jade.

  Apparently, the jade was believed to have certain mystical properties, one being it was absorbent. Not like a Bounty paper towel. This stone absorbed dark energy, emotional energy, and yes, you guessed it. God-energy.

  As soon as the words left Xavier’s mouth, I knew. I looked down at the necklace on the floor with horror as if it were a cootie-infested lollipop.

  “That’s how it was done,” Xavier exclaimed. “He made them wear a necklace similar to Emma’s, blunting his energy so he could sleep with these women. They probably wore it through their pregnancies, as well.”

  There were several minutes of frantic debate between the two as the dots began connecting.

  I stared down at the seemingly harmless piece of jewelry. Could a rock really do all that? Then I remembered that while I had it on, I wasn’t able to make a significant dent in Tommaso when I punched his stomach. But later that same day, after it had fallen off, I’d socked Cimil across the room. It had muted my strength, too.

  Then there was the gray soot that covered the Scab’s bodies; Xavier explained that they were using this material as a shield, which is why they were so difficult for the gods to track.

  “So, you think the jars are made of this?” Guy asked Xavier.

  “It fits. The jars absorb energy. Then, when it’s somehow released—”

  My eyes nearly popped out of my head. “Did you say ‘jars?’”

  Xavier and Guy’s eyes froze on me.

  “Yes. Why?” Guy asked.

  “I saw a jar, that’s why. There was one floating in that pool you were trapped in, and I flung it at that stupid cat.”

  “But I thought you released me by reciting the phrase I taught you.”

  “I never got that far. I was a little distracted by that overgrown kitty—hey, you don’t talk to animals by any chance?”

  “Emma! It was the jar. Why didn’t you tell me about it?” Guy yelled.

  “I thought it was garbage somebody dumped there,” I answered defensively.

  Guy hesitated. “It’s a weapon.”

  “That little thing?” I stared at the offending, lifeless rock on the floor.

  Guy snatched up the necklace. “Obviously, Emma won’t mind if we borrow this for a closer look.” Guy stopped and smirked. “But I'll be sure you get it back.”

  Oh. I bet he would. It was the magic key to Naughty-God Land.

  Xavier looked sad. “Do you still believe Cimil is behind this?”

  Guy gave him a consoling pat on the back. “I don’t know, my friend. If she is, she’ll pay.”

  Poor Xavier. He seemed to have a case of hero-worship for Cimil.

  Guy called the guards outside who appeared within seconds. “Call the leads in Mexico. Tell them to find Tommaso and ask him where he obtained this necklace. I want to know where the mine is.”

  He shoved the necklace into his pocket. “Emma, I have to go.” He placed his index finger under my chin, tipping my head to meet his gaze. I was still in stun-mode from what just occurred.

  Shame? Astonishment? Desperation? The wheel-of-emotions spun in my head. Click. Click. Click! Ah. There it was. Horror. That was a good one.

  Necklace or no necklace, that insane display of reckless lust was all me. One-hundred percent Emma. Damn. What was I doing fooling around with the God of Death and War? This mess had grown far beyond the old predicament of me being obsessed with a seductive voice in my head. This was a whole other ball game.

  I gave him a rigid nod, trying to conceal the mental breakdown I was preparing to unleash.

  “Hey,” he said, sensing something was amiss. “I promise, I'll be back as soon as I can, but I have to gather the chiefs. Now that we understand what we're dealing with, we must rethink our strategy. Xavier will stay with you until I come back.” He grinned from ear to ear. “And then we're going to finish this.”

  I swallowed hard. “But—um…” Now that I'd gathered my wits, which had just returned from a joy ride in the hormone-mobile, I didn't want to finish it. I wanted to run far, far away. First from him, then from myself. How could I have come so close to having sex with the man who’d used me, tormented me, and manipulated me?

  Oooh. But he's so hot, Emma. Cliff! Cliff! the little voice in my head whined.

  No, stop it, I scolded myself. This was getting way out of hand. He couldn’t be trusted. Ever. I had to remember that. I had an obligation to help Guy free the others so that they could take care of the Maaskab, so that my family would be safe, but after that, we were D.O.N.E.

  My dream of status quo—being normal—was still possible. It didn’t matter I wasn’t one-hundred percent human. I was still the same person as before. Still Emma Keane. My life was still waiting for me to return to it and finally live it! And Guy didn’t belong there. I could hardly imagine a life with him. He’d be off killing people all day and then return home—the quaint little yellow house in the country with the vegetable garden—where I’d be waiting for him, turkey loaf dinner on the table.

  Then, he’d say, “Hi honey. Give me a second while I rinse off all this blood.”

  “Sure, babe,” I’d respond. And then we’d eat, sip wine, and share stories about our day. Me, I’d talk about my day at the office. Him, he’d talk about inciting death and war. For dessert, we’d eat cookies—okay, that part wouldn’t be so bad—then he’d try to make love to me without frying my brain. Dreamy.

  And then there was the age gap—a seventy-thousand year difference. Not so bad, right? If we were fossils.

  He had to see all these dead-ends, too. Didn't he? And that meant only one thing; that little incident was simply recreational for him. He couldn’t see our relationship any other way.

  There. It was decided. All doors leading to any imaginable “happily ever after” with Guy slammed shut. Dead bolted. Security chained. Chair propped against the handle. Closed.

  “Don't worry, I won't be long,” he said, changing into a pair of black cargoes and a black t-shirt. He must have chosen that outfit on purpose. He looked solid, sleek, and irresistible.

  On the other hand...who's talking relationship here? What ever happened to casual sex?

 
; Shut it, little voice! Stop that. I’m not putting that evil necklace back on. “Okay. See you later,” I said with a neutral tone.

  He planted a possessive, mind-binding kiss on my mouth and ran out of the room, leaving me alone, flushed, with an overly anxious Xavier. No fun.

  “Any advice?” I asked. “Besides a cold shower and a shrink?”

  “Not really. But you’re quite the pioneer. Bedding Votan.” He scratched his chin. “And you broke the bond. Lots of firsts. You’re a fascinating creature.”

  “Thanks.”

  ***

  I didn’t want to sit around for hours waiting for Guy’s return, so I insisted Xavier take me to the clinic for those tests he’d asked for.

  I'd imagined a small office with maybe a first-aid kit and a cot, but it was a small state-of-the-art hospital, complete with surgical ward, physical therapy, ICU, and everything I guessed a modern hospital needed. He said they preferred to have their own facility because it kept their activities under the radar. Especially since they treated the occasional bullet hole and Maaskab knife wound.

  I spent a few minutes giving blood, plus an hour taking x-rays. He said he wanted a record of my physical make up for posterity. Then he sent me to go see the resident psychiatrist. Funny. How did he know I needed one so badly?

  Unfortunately, Dr. Lugas had no interest in discussing my personal love life, which made me realize how much I missed my girlfriends. Dr. Lugas was all business. Sixty, only a few inches taller than me, and bald, he was clearly a fan of Italian cuisine. The red sauce stain on the lapel of his white lab coat said it all.

  “How long's this going to take?” I asked, looking at Xavier.

  “He's just going to ask a few questions. He's an expert at evaluating tolerance for stress and assesses all our guards.”

  “Mine will be about as impressive as a one year old.”

  Dr. Lugas asked me some basic background questions for the first twenty minutes. Then, when he asked me to describe the most stressful situation I'd been in over the last few months, well, I had a hard time choosing.