Buck

by Tasha Black

  “So, this is a mistake then,” Buck murmured, unable for the life of him, to remove his hand from her soft cheek.

  “No,” she smiled up at him. “What I thought I wanted was the mistake. There’s not one part of my life plan that wouldn’t be better with you in it.”

  “But your movie,” he said.

  “You know I’ve been thinking about it since my talk with Esther, and I had it all wrong,” she said. “Door to Everywhere is kind of a cult favorite. It has an indie following but it never hit a bestseller list. It was a small budget book. Hell, I couldn’t even afford color panels.”

  “It’s a wonderful book,” Buck said.

  “I think its humble presentation may have something to do with that,” Bea said slowly. “Esther Martine’s been doing this a long time. If she doesn’t sense a blockbuster I trust her instincts.”

  “Door to Everywhere will make a great movie,” Buck said, furious that one person’s opinion could influence Bea’s sense of confidence.

  “Oh, it will definitely be a great movie,” Bea smiled up at him. “But it’s going to be a small budget indie film, not a big studio production. If I lose my funders over that, it’s fine by me. I’ll come up with the money we need and we’ll do it on a shoestring. But I’ll do it my way. The story will come first, it will not be outshone.”

  “Are you really okay with that?” Buck asked.

  “I feel the same anticipation I did when I wrote it,” Bea said with a smile. “And this is the first time I’ve felt that, since the talks of an adaption started.”

  He could sense that she was telling the truth. The air was practically humming with her happiness.

  He leaned in again to give her the kiss they both longed for.

  But the ding of the elevator interrupted them.

  He took her by the hand instead and led her out of the elevator to the door of the condo.

  She slipped the key out of her pocket and opened it.

  The last of the afternoon’s pink sunset filtered through the curtains. It was enough to show them the way to her room.

  Beatrix smiled when she reached her door.

  “Why are you smiling?” he asked her, charmed by the curve of her lips.

  “I was thinking of my door to everywhere,” she said. “And how it always leads to you.”

  Overcome with emotion, he swept her into his arms, closed the door behind them and placed her gently on the bed.

  She looked up at him, her eyes luminous.

  “Do you want to sleep on this?” he asked her.

  “No,” she said, smiling, her hands dancing down the buttons on the front of her dress.

  “By the moons of Aerie,” he murmured, mesmerized.

  “Aren’t you going to undress too?” she asked him.

  He turned from her, peeled his t-shirt over his head, took off his shoes and socks, then unbuttoned his jeans and slid them off, taking the boxers with them.

  When he turned back she was naked, her dark hair spread across the pillow, arms outstretched to him.

  He paused for just a moment, trying to memorize the glow of her skin in the twilight, the longing in her dark eyes.

  Then he could restrain himself no more.

  He crawled on top of her, pinning her to the bed with his hips, resting on one elbow and sliding his hand into the silk of her hair.

  “Bea,” he crooned. “You are so beautiful.”

  “Thank you,” she smiled up at him. “You’re not bad yourself.”

  Then she looked downward, eyelashes kissing her cheeks.

  “Don’t you dare do that,” he told her. “Don’t be shy with me.”

  He kissed her eyelids and she giggled.

  “Are you giggling at me?” he demanded playfully.

  She shook her head but her eyes were dancing.

  “Now you will be punished,” he informed her.

  Her eyes widened.

  Quick as a thought, he pinned her hands over her head and lowered his face to hers.

  “I’m going to have my way with you now,” he whispered. “Is that okay with you?”

  She smiled.

  “I need to hear you say it, my mate,” he told her.

  “Yes,” she whispered.

  A wave of lust surged in his veins, but he fought it back.

  “Nice,” he praised her and brushed his lips lightly against hers.

  She seemed to melt under him.

  He kissed her again, pressing his lips firmly against hers this time.

  She kissed him back parting her lips slightly as if in invitation.

  But he was already nuzzling her jaw, burying his face in her neck and feasting on the tender flesh where it met her shoulder.

  Bea inhaled and angled her head to give him better access.

  Her utter submission was exciting him wildly. His body, which he had kept so firmly under control, ached and roared with need.

  Bea whimpered as he trailed kisses down her chest.

  “I’m going to let go of your hands now,” he told her, his own voice a raspy growl he hardly recognized. “But you’re going to leave them right where they are.”

  “Yes,” she whispered.

  He pulled back and looked down at her, arms twined above her head, her face flushed, breasts heaving, the dusky nipples pouting, begging for his touch.

  He fell on her, licking and nipping at one breast as she made sweet sounds of pleasure, then abandoning it to tease and torment the other as he grazed the first with his thumb.

  When her hips began to tremble, he gave each breast one last kiss, then made his way down past her belly to the apex of her thighs.

  Beatrix was panting now, her eyes wide as she watched him position himself between her legs.

  She knew what was next - he had done this to her before.

  But she still cried out the moment his tongue touched her.

  She tasted like honey and he lapped at her frantically.

  Beatrix whimpered and lifted her hips to meet his mouth, angling herself as if desperate for his tongue to caress her stiff little clitoris.

  He responded with long, slow strokes of his tongue against her opening, teasing her with a feather light touch where she most wanted firmness, prolonging the anticipation for what they both knew was coming.

  He had just begun to ease a finger inside her when she began to beg.

  “Please,” she moaned plaintively, her sex swelling against his tongue.

  His own corresponding wave of desire stiffened his cock to the point of pain.

  “Oh my love,” he whispered to her, crawling back up to cradle her head in his arms. “I will take care of you. I will give you what you need.”

  She pressed her lips to his, bringing her arms down to twine around his neck.

  “Beatrix Li,” he whispered to her. “I choose you as my mate. Will you accept me?”

  “I accept you,” she whispered back with shining eyes.

  Buck’s heart was filled to bursting.

  “Are you ready, my angel?” he asked her.

  She nodded.

  He took his bursting cock in his hand and guided it against her.

  The satiny hot feel of her against the tip of his rigid penis was almost enough to send him over the edge. He gritted his teeth against the pleasure and pressed himself slowly inside her.

  At last he filled her completely. The feeling was so heavenly he felt almost unmoored from reality.

  He looked down at her beautiful face to anchor himself, and prayed for the strength to make this good for her, as perfect as she deserved.

  24

  Beatrix

  Beatrix looked up at the man of her dreams.

  His handsome face was suffused with pleasure and she felt a rush of happiness knowing that it was her body transporting him.

  Then he moved inside her and all thought was lost to the sensation.

  She had done this before, but that had been like a sketch compared to this masterpiece.

  He
filled her again and she felt it in every cell of her body, as if tiny bubbles were rising in her, effervescent.

  He groaned when he pulled himself out of her again, and gasped with pleasure at the next thrust.

  Beatrix lifted her hips to urge him on, sinking her nails into his shoulders.

  He slammed into her faster now as if electrified by her rough touch.

  The pleasure was almost unbearable, Beatrix lost track of her own sounds as her ecstasy coiled up inside her tighter and tighter, ready to burst.

  Buck slid a big hand between them and drew gentle circles on her throbbing clitoris.

  “Ohhhh,” Beatrix cried as he drove into her again.

  And then the room half faded away as he ignited her like a firework with his clever fingers.

  Bea was flying, flying and then the pleasure crashed down on her, sending her rocketing back to earth in endless waves of rapture.

  “Oh, god, Bea,” he groaned.

  She felt him swell impossibly inside her and then jet inside her again and again, as if in harmony with her own surges of pleasure.

  A sudden stillness filled the air.

  Then she felt as if a cool breeze had kissed her heated cheeks, though the windows were closed.

  Buck rested his head on her chest and she moved her hands into his hair, cradling him against her as she imagined she might one day cradle the child they would have together. A child they might have just conceived.

  Strangely, the thought didn’t worry her. It felt like the most natural thing in the world.

  She was just beginning to drift off when she felt slight movement in the air again.

  She opened her eyes.

  A butterfly had alighted on the table next to the bed. It paused there, lacy wings trembling delicately.

  “Buck,” she whispered. “Look.”

  “That looks like…” he trailed off, but she already knew what he had been about to say.

  It looked like one of the butterflies she had been drawing.

  Movement in her periphery made her turn her head.

  One of her paper drawings tacked to the wall was flapping in the breeze.

  No.

  There was no breeze.

  The drawing on the paper flapped and stretched its gauzy wings, then fluttered off the page

  Then another and another of her butterflies flickered off the papers she had absentmindedly sketched them on since the night of her dream.

  Their wings were soft purples and blues in the moonlight, delicate as lace, vibrant as a technicolor movie.

  “Did you do that?” she breathed.

  He shook his head.

  “Then how…?”

  “You did it, Bea,” he told her. “They are yours, you brought them to life.”

  She stared at him, unable to comprehend.

  “Dr. Bhimani said this happens sometimes too,” he explained. “At the moment of our mating I shared my gift with you.”

  “Your gift,” she echoed.

  “Yes,” he told her. “Are you scared?”

  She shook her head and smiled. “No, but I’m pretty sure I must be dreaming,” she confided in him.

  “Only one way to find out,” he told her.

  She gazed up at him in question.

  He answered by pressing her lips with his in an unhurried kiss that was rich with promise.

  “Slowly this time,” he told her as a butterfly landed in his hair. “We wouldn’t want to scare away your new pets…”

  25

  Cecily

  Cecily handed her satchel over to Kate as they marched back into the convention hall.

  “Put it on as fast as you can, over your clothes,” she told Kate.

  “It’s heavy,” Kate remarked.

  “I’m going to stall them for as long as I can, but that might not be long,” Cecily continued. “If Dirk’s source is who I think it is, he’s going to be pretty pissed.”

  “What is this?” Kate asked, peeking into the bag.

  “It’s the Night Bird,” Cecily said.

  “What?” Kate asked, stopping mid-step. “That’s not possible. It would have to be done in CG.”

  “Keep walking,” Cecily said. “It is possible. At least I think it is. We’re about to find out. Give me your key.”

  They had reached the corridor leading to the green room. Kate slid the key out of her pocket and handed it to Cecily.

  Ahead of them, reporters and bloggers clogged the hall.

  Cecily almost felt sorry for them. She hoped she could make the trip worth their while.

  She turned to Solo and Kirk who were trailing them.

  “Guys, you can’t be with us when they’re looking for aliens,” she said. “Can you run downstairs to the cafe and wait for us?”

  Kirk looked pained, but Solo stepped forward.

  “Of course we can, Cecily,” he said. “If you are sure you have no need for our assistance here.”

  She looked up at his unbelievably gorgeous face. He was always so confident, so calm. It was charming and all, but secretly Cecily wondered when his facade would break. Surely no one could be so patient and so smooth forever.

  He had been nothing but a good friend to her, so she felt perverse wishing for the straw that would break the camel’s back.

  But if experience had taught her anything, it was that people, and men in particular, were the opposite of steady and polite.

  Sooner or later that handsome veneer would crack and Cecily would see what Solo was really made of.

  But that day was not today.

  “I’m sure,” she said. “We’re fine.”

  He nodded and took Kirk by the arm, leading him back into the convention hall.

  “Are you ready for this?” Cecily asked, turning to Kate.

  “Does it matter?” Kate asked, arching an eyebrow.

  “Not really,” Cecily said. “But it will be fun. When we get to the door I’ll open it and you’ll go in, ostensibly to look for Bea.”

  Kate nodded and they headed into the crowd.

  “Hey, fellas,” Cecily called out.

  “Cecily Page,” one of the bloggers called happily to her. She recognized him as a kid she’d given quotes to after she’d done costumes on Jocelyn Wylde’s latest music video.

  “Do you know where Beatrix Li is?” another reporter demanded, sounding less happy.

  “Cool your jets,” she advised lightly. “I’m going in there to look for her.”

  A narrow pathway opened up for her and she dragged Kate behind her.

  She opened the door and Kate slipped in.

  A woman with a mohawk and a digital recorder tried to follow.

  “No, no, no,” Cecily said, blocking her. “The green room is private space. Let me see if Bea texted me.”

  She slid her cell phone out of her pocket and pretended to check her text messages.

  She was really pulling up an app that she prayed would work. She’d fooled around with a single scale and even a whole glove once. Hopefully it would work on a larger canvas.

  “Is Bea in there?” she called to Kate through the door.

  “No,” Kate said.

  There were groans from the crowd and Cecily saw one or two people already heading away back down the corridor.

  “You know what? You guys came all the way out here,” she said. “You want to see my newest project?”

  There were smiles and nods. One of the guys who was leaving stopped and turned around, but didn’t walk back.

  “Kate, come out here,” she called through the door. “Let’s show these lucky bastards this costume for the first time. Move back guys, give her some space.”

  She waited until they had backed up significantly. The green room was opposite a part of the corridor that opened up into a sort of open lobby with a huge picture window, some sofas and assorted potted trees and plants as well as some framed modern artwork. It was as near to perfect for this stunt as could be even if she’d had time to plan. Which she hadn’t
.

  “Okay, ladies and gentlemen, I present to you, the Night Bird,” she called out.

  The door opened and Kate slipped out.

  Cecily looked out at the reporters, they were watching, a few murmuring to each other.

  The Night Bird in Door to Everywhere was a shifting Cheshire Cat of a character, appearing out of nowhere and disappearing again into the night.

  Cecily had been fascinated with the idea of making a Night Bird costume. And then a documentary about the clever camouflage of the cuttlefish gave her the spark of inspiration she needed to actually be able to pull it off.

  Kate stepped into the lobby area in the full costume, tiny scales shimmering all over her body.

  She stood and faced the gathered crowd, her back to the chocolate brown wall.

  Cecily held up a finger and Kate nodded.

  Cecily’s fingers danced on the screen of the phone.

  “Ladies and gentlemen,” Cecily announced. “Here is your alien.”

  Suddenly Kate’s body seemed to almost disappear into the wall behind her.

  There were sounds of surprise from the bloggers and reporters. A wall of cell phones was raised to record.

  “What is that?” one reporter asked.

  “This suit is made up of scales, each of which is an LED,” Cecily explained. “I can control each scale using an app on my phone.”

  She nodded to Kate, who moved across the sitting area to stand in front of the green accent wall with a painting of a red circle above the cream colored chair rail.

  Cecily swiped and tapped and suddenly Kate’s lower half was green with a cream colored belt and her torso was emblazoned with the portion of the red circle it covered.

  “Jesus,” one of the bloggers whispered.

  “That’s - that’s military level tech,” another one stammered.

  “It was supposed to be,” Cecily agreed. “This batch of tiny LEDs was rejected for government experimental use due to minor imperfections. I bought them at auction and encased them in transparent scales that I poured from a hand carved mold. I think they’re good enough for the movies. What do you guys think?”