High Passion

by Vivian Arend

  She clicked off the table lamp and turned the room black.

  What followed was an exercise in sensory deprivation and sexual overload. With the lights gone, there was nothing other than the pale moonlight sneaking in the windows. The small house was tucked far enough onto the back lane that there were no streetlights. No cars whipping past on a regular basis to add illumination. The faint lights from his music system. The digital clock on the microwave. That was it.

  What they lacked in sight was more than made up with tactile pleasure. She tugged his shirt free, and he lifted it over his head, and suddenly she had more sexy territory to explore than she could cover in a reasonable amount of time. Stroking the cuts of his six-pack made him moan. Sliding her palms up his chest made her respond the same way, her sigh definitely on the happy side. Then it was her turn to remove her top, his hands cupping her breasts instantly, his thumbs unerringly discovering her nipples.

  “How do you do that in the dark?” she asked, the final word turning into a gasp as he tweaked harder.

  “They’re like homing beacons.” He kissed her, slow and thorough as he teased, the pinches and tugs on her breasts escalating in pressure, then easing off until she couldn’t stand it. She rose to her knees, her hands buried in his hair. Even without lights she could guide him to where she needed him most.

  “Bossy.” His warm lips pressed against her nipple, his tongue slipping out to tease her.

  “You know you want to take a big bite,” she insisted.

  Devon sucked her nipple into his mouth and she gasped, pleasure shooting through her hard enough to shake her legs. One side. The other, his hands supporting as he lifted her to his mouth and greedily brought her to the point that she was writhing.

  He tugged her sweats off her ass, switching his hands to fisting her flesh. Hard squeezes, softer circles—all the while his tongue lashed her skin until she desperately needed him inside.

  “Please, Devon. More.”

  Both of them scrambled in their urge to get naked. When she would have resettled into his lap, she found herself being firmly placed into a new position. “Hands on the back of the couch,” he ordered.

  When she grasped the fabric he slipped from under her, muscles sliding against her briefly as he wiggled off the couch and ended with his head between her spread thighs. There was a pause, the sound of the condom being opened.

  Only he was in no position to be using it anytime soon. “Devon?”

  “Oh man, you are wet. So fucking sexy.” Devon breathed deep, and cupped her ass again, holding her so she couldn’t retreat. He kissed the inside of her thigh, then licked his way up to the crease between leg and torso. She laughed and wiggled, but he held her steady. “There’s no escape,” he warned.

  His mouth covered her sex, and she moaned. Pleasure roared through her, a tingle of tight ecstasy centered where he touched her before spreading in waves. Devon slipped a finger into her sex and stroked lightly. Not enough to send her over, but in connection with his tongue, more than enough to make her breathing hitch.

  Then he switched his attention and ran his fingertips along her crease. When he stopped to tease the small, sensitive skin of her anus, she shivered.

  “Yes?” he whispered against her sex. “Okay?”

  She nodded, then forced herself to speak since he couldn’t see it. “It’s not my usual thing, but I don’t mind. Oh . . .”

  He’d sucked her clit, rapidly teasing the heated bundle of nerves. At the same time he pressed his finger in to the first knuckle. A tiny intrusion that seemed so much more.

  “Oh, my God.”

  He did it again. And again, until she was quivering over him. When he finally slid his finger all the way in she tipped, the dual assault launching her past the point of no return.

  She wasn’t done shaking, her body still clutching around empty air as he stole from under her and heat pressed against her back, their bodies skin on skin.

  “Ready?” Devon teased his cock between her labia, rubbing the sensitive nub of her clit and making her shake.

  “My brain isn’t working.”

  He dragged a hand down her back, his fingertips tracing delicately on either side of her spine as he adjusted his hips, the head of his shaft slipping into her. “Don’t think, feel.”

  He thrust, spearing her on his cock, and soon feeling was all she had left.

  Their rattled breathing was loud in the room at first, punctuated by the strangely erotic wet sounds as he plunged in deep, their hips slapping together. He grasped her tightly as he worked her over, her breasts swinging as he took her. Their bodies once again pinned together as he shortened his strokes and leaned over. Chest to back, skin rubbing, the slick of perspiration sliding them together perfectly.

  Nothing was left but the sensation of touch. Being touched. Inside, and out. He surrounded her, filled her, and Alisha soaked it in. Relished it. Accepted the nearly punishing assault.

  Impossibly, hovering again on the edge of release.

  Devon snapped his hips forward and groaned. “So good. So tight around me.”

  Alisha gripped the back of the couch harder, the smooth leather under her fingers compressing as she braced herself. She leaned into his thrusts to increase the force.

  Devon slipped a hand over her stomach and covered her clit with his fingertips, pressing lightly, then firmer as she panted her agreement.

  “Yes. Yes, oh there. There.”

  She squeezed her eyes shut so hard, stars floated past as she spiraled out of control and took him with her. Devon shouted her name, their hips sealed tight, his cock jolting inside her as her sex tightened around the rigid length.

  Her arms quivered and he laughed, pulling her upright for a moment, twirling them both and collapsing onto the couch with her in his lap, his cock still embedded in her body.

  The aftershocks continued for a long time, each one dragging a moan from her lips as he slowly gentled her, teasing his fingers over her clit, his other hand stroking up her body to caress her breasts, her neck.

  He turned her head to the side and took her lips again. Breathless, openmouthed kisses followed as they gasped in an attempt to refill their lungs. Unwilling to stop in spite of their need for air.

  Alisha finally broke away, resting her head on his shoulder as she stared into the darkness. “I’m seeing stars.”

  Devon chuckled. “I left the stars a few hundred miles back. I’m into the outer reaches of the galaxy already.”

  He reached out and she covered her eyes as the light came on. She wasn’t sure if it was because she was feeling shy, or because she didn’t want him to see that she was feeling slightly vulnerable after letting go so hard.

  He kissed her temple again, then helped her upright. His cock slipped from her. “Back in a minute,” he whispered.

  Devon went to deal with the condom, his butt cheeks flexing nicely in the faint light as he strode from the room. Alisha grabbed her clothes from the ground and pulled them on. Found her bag, slipped on her shoes.

  She glanced up to discover Devon standing nearby, his broad shoulder leaning against the wall. He’d pulled on boxers, which did nothing to hide the rest of his incredible muscles. The magnificent ridges and taut muscles she’d just had under her fingers.

  Her sigh was most definitely a happy one.

  Devon’s grin widened. “I like that sound. You heading out?”

  Alisha nodded. “I should take my stuff, and myself, home. That was awesome, though.”

  She stepped in closer and raised her lips.

  He kissed her as he smoothed her hair from her face, his touch gentle. When she pulled back, he winked. “Anytime.”

  He grabbed her bag and walked with her to her car, his nearly naked body highlighted in the faint outdoor lights.

  “You’re insane. Barefoot outside in October?”

  Devon leaned into the open window, his stomach muscles teasing her as they contracted into a perfect six-pack. “Barefoot nothing. I like to
strip naked and dance sky-clad, but that one you’ll have to wait a little longer to see.”

  He winked again, then turned and made his way to the front door. Halfway there he paused, lifted his arms, and twirled, and she laughed out loud.

  Okay, this new version of Devon she was slowly getting to know was a whole lot more fun than the old one.

  CHAPTER 15

  The entire drive to her apartment she wore a grin. Not simply a smile, but an out-and-out grin.

  It had turned out to be an amazing day, between the rescue and her time with Devon. Putting the panic attack behind her was a joy, and her body ached in all the right spots. For the first time in days she felt totally in control.

  She pulled into the parking space at her rental and a little of that euphoria faded. The bright red-and-white FOR SALE sign planted in the lawn hadn’t been there that morning when she left.

  Shoot, no.

  She grabbed her bag and slung it over her shoulder as she headed around the back to the tall exterior staircase that led to her attic apartment. Finding accommodation in Banff was a pain most of the year, let alone something that would work with her erratic hours. Now that the part-time winter staff had poured into town, she would be in even more trouble.

  The envelope stuck between the door and jamb mocked her with its crisp whiteness. She shoved the thin paper between her teeth, then wrestled her gear into the front entrance, leaving the bags in a pile as she hurried to open the envelope and scan the pages.

  She’d been given notice. Her tenancy was due to expire at the end of October, which she knew, but the last she’d spoken with her landlords they were planning on renewing for another year with her. Obviously, something had changed.

  Okay, not something she could deal with tonight, so instead she’d add it to the list of things to handle the coming week. She clicked off the front lights and left her gear abandoned in the hall.

  She still had to pack a new bag before crashing, although the chances of getting called out were slim. Two disasters in a short time frame during what should be the low season was unusual enough, but she didn’t want to get caught unaware.

  She stepped into the entranceway of her bedroom and jerked to a stop. The streetlamp in the alley was the only illumination in the room, casting bands of faint grey across her mattress.

  The bed that she’d scrambled out of in a rush that morning was neatly made, rose petals scattered on the surface.

  The creak of floorboards to the right snapped her gaze over to discover Vincent rising from the old wooden chair tucked into the corner of the room. “My God, how did you get in?”

  She backed up slowly as he stepped toward her.

  He ignored her outburst, looking her over carefully, his face expressionless. “You’re home late. I expected you hours ago.”

  Trapped in her own home. Alisha retreated farther, flipping on all the light switches as she moved. “You have no right to be in here, and no right to be expecting me. Get out of my house, Vincent.”

  “I was worried about you.” He moved to the right as she reached for the door, his body blocking her escape. “Since you left on your call this morning I’ve been waiting to hear that you were safe. Such a dangerous field you’ve chosen to be involved in. I couldn’t stand it if anything happened to you.”

  She shook her head. He knew about the call-out; he’d gotten into her home. Terror and confusion were brought under control through sheer determination. “Are you spying on me? Get out.”

  Vincent smiled, a horrid expression made more terrifying because it was so obviously fake. “You were with your lover. Did you tell him yet that it’s over between you?”

  This was not happening. Alisha eyed the window that led to the fire escape, wondering if she could cross the room and get out before he could stop her. “That’s none of your business. You’ve gone too far, Vincent. This is breaking and entering—I didn’t give you a key, and I didn’t invite you in. Leave before I call the police.”

  He waved a hand. “I’ll be gone in a minute. I had planned a more intimate evening for us, but I’m not interested in Devon’s leftovers.”

  The thought of doing anything sexual with Vincent made her stomach churn. She held her ground and waited for him to finish.

  He stepped toward her and her heart leapt. “I want you ready to return to Toronto by the new year at the latest. There’s no use resisting. At some point you won’t be able to hold out any longer. Once you have no roof over your head, and no friends who want to help you.”

  “You can’t believe that you can force me to marry you. What do you think this is, the Dark Ages?”

  “I believe you are a smart enough woman to see the benefits once you think them through.”

  She had her fingers on her phone ready to blindly call anyone in the hopes they’d figure out she was in trouble. “Get. Out.”

  He cast one more icy glare in her direction before he left.

  A tumble of emotions swept her, and with shaking limbs she raced to lock the deadbolt. Dragging a chair under the doorknob seemed very cheesy, but necessary. How had he gotten in?

  She clutched her phone as she ran from window to window to make sure they were all locked. Nothing. No indication of how he’d gotten inside. Alisha calmed her breathing and thought through her options.

  Impossibly, Vincent must have a key. But if he did have a key, that meant he could get in again anytime.

  Did she call someone at the wonderful hour of one A.M. to come and stay with her, or did she go crash on someone else’s good nature? The warmth of Devon’s bed beckoned, his comforting arms. Fleeing to him was what she wanted, but was it the right choice?

  Dumping this situation with Vincent on top of everything else would complicate matters. Because Devon would expect an explanation if she showed up on his doorstep not even half an hour after she’d insisted on leaving.

  But who else could she turn to?

  Marcus was out of town, meaning Becki would be alone. Erin lived alone, and Alisha wasn’t about to bring stalker Vincent anywhere near another woman.

  The perfect solution hit. She grabbed a spare gym bag and packed clean rescue gear into it. A second bag with all the things she’d need for a couple of days, just in case she ended up gone for that long before feeling comfortable Vincent would behave.

  It took two trips to get her gear all into the car, and she watched over her shoulder the entire time. She felt like a fool driving in circles, taking the long way around to her destination, but as far as she could tell she wasn’t followed.

  She parked down the road from Tripp’s and called him, inspecting the shadows as she waited for him to respond.

  “Do you know what fucking time it is?” he growled sleepily. “You okay? You need a hand?”

  Her throat went tight at his instant offer. “I love you, Tripp. I need a place to stay for the night.”

  “No problem. Do you need me to pick you up?” His voice clearing, tone sharpening as he woke.

  “I’m in my car and looking at your house. Is there room in the garage?”

  “There is. I’ll open the door.”

  She followed his progress through the three-story town house as he flipped on lights and made his way to the ground level. The garage door opened, and she eased her car in next to his truck.

  Tripp was right there when she stepped out, the large overhead door closing on them, hiding them away. He checked her over carefully. “I hope I don’t need to go beat on some stupid blond boy.”

  She choked out a laugh. “Devon? Oh God, no. He’s not the cause of this mess.”

  “Get upstairs, we’ll talk in a minute.” He helped her with her bags, abandoning the one with her dirty clothes from the day’s rescue in his laundry room and placing her emergency bag next to his in a safe spot. “You can have the guest room, but first, reassure me. You’re not hurt in any way?”

  She shook her head. “Just didn’t think it was safe to stay in my apartment tonight.”

&nb
sp; He nodded. “Sleep. We’ll talk in the morning.”

  He gave her a huge bear hug, then sent her into the spare room, the cozy quilt and soft pillows enticing her to drop all the worries and panics of the day. Tomorrow she’d figure out what to do. Tomorrow things would make more sense after hours of sleep and a good breakfast.

  Only she tossed and turned restlessly. Every time she closed her eyes the darkness sent images flying at her. Sometimes it was a rush of water enfolding her in its icy grip. Sometimes it was Vincent, the ice in his stare cold enough to make her wake, shivering, whimpering in fear.

  She dragged the blankets back on for the third time and tried to stop her rapid breathing. The door opened, and Tripp peeked in.

  “You’re not okay, and don’t lie about it.”

  She felt about three years old. “I’m having bad dreams.”

  Tripp laughed softly. “Oh, girl. Fine, shove over.”

  “I didn’t mean to—”

  “I’m dead on my feet and you must be as well. Marcus is going to kick our butts with training tomorrow, so I’d like it if we could rest before then.” He stood beside the bed and waved at her again. “Don’t be a bed hog, though, or I’ll kick you to the floor.”

  He crawled in beside her, a wall of warmth, and she sighed. Tripp turned his back and she snuggled up tight, only partially ashamed for taking advantage of him. “You’re a good friend, Tripp.”

  “Shut up and go to sleep.”

  She laughed, and this time the warmth crowded over her fears and pushed the darkness far enough into the distance that she could sleep.

  * * *

  The bed was empty when she woke, morning sun lighting the sky without being high enough to show its face over the mountains yet. Alisha pulled on sweats and headed to the kitchen to find Tripp and his boyfriend seated at the table, cups of coffee in their hands as they read the paper. Cereal boxes were stacked high on the tabletop, but there was an empty place setting waiting for her, and thankfulness rushed in.

  Jonah noticed her first and poked Tripp. “Your cuddle bunny is awake.”