Seducing Liselle

by Marie E. Blossom

  “Hang on,” he murmured, breaking the kiss. He was breathing as heavily as her. She allowed herself a tiny flash of triumph even as he urged her down to the floor. The thick throw in front of the fire was soft under her knees.

  “Yeah, just like that,” he said, leaning over her back.

  She wiggled her hips, expecting him to fuck her. Instead he smoothed a hand down her spine, then crouched down, head nuzzling between her legs.

  “Oh my God, what are you doing?” she asked, teeth snapping shut as his mouth closed over her clit.

  “I’m kissing you, just like you kissed me,” he said, licking up and down her pussy.

  She shuddered, trying to keep her balance as he inserted one finger, then another, licking around them as he pressed against her G-spot.

  He’s a genius, she thought vaguely. He flicked his tongue over her clit, drawing out the pleasure until she cried out, close to climax. He moved back and she moaned. Not again, she thought. She didn’t want him to tease her. She needed him inside her, but he didn’t give her what she wanted. He grabbed a pillow, shoving it under her arms.

  “Hang on to that,” he said, licking into her again. When he moved his mouth back, nibbling over the sensitive nerves of her anus, she grunted, legs almost giving out.

  “Okay?” he asked.

  She nodded, muffling her moans in the soft pillow. She couldn’t believe he was licking her there, but when he inserted a finger, too, she couldn’t help groaning. She pushed back, wanting more.

  He chuckled. “Yeah, feels good. I know how good that feels.”

  He does?she thought, then pleasure chased the words out of her mind. He licked around his finger until she was writhing, desperate for more. He moved back, not giving her what she wanted. When the front of his thighs shoved up against the back of her legs, she surged back, fucking herself on his hands, his cock, whatever she could reach.

  “Uh-uh, just wait, Liselle,” he said, hand on her hips, holding her steady.

  Her growl of frustration was cut off abruptly when she felt his cock nudge at her pussy. He was hot and thick and she wanted him inside. Right now.

  He leaned his forehead down on her spine, shoving his cock inside her with one strong thrust. She jerked forward, but his hands were on her hips, holding her still while he fucked into her roughly.

  “Is this okay?” he panted, groaning as she tightened her internal muscles.

  “Yes. Yes, God,” she managed, knowing instinctively that this was exactly what he needed. She was happy to give it to him.

  “The dreams, sometimes they make me crazy,” he choked out, fucking into her so hard he had to grab her shoulders to keep her from sprawling onto her stomach.

  “Stop thinking,” she said, just like he’d said to her earlier.

  He groaned, then kissed the small of her back. “You’re so sweet.”

  She smiled into the pillow, amused that he thought that while he was shoving himself so far inside her she could taste him. When he shifted again, one thigh slipping in between hers, she held onto the pillow tighter. He teased at her asshole again, then slid a finger inside. Her climax roared up out of nowhere and she nearly screamed as he fucked her, a finger in her ass and another on her clit, rubbing until another orgasm took her over. She sobbed, body fluttering around him, and then just when she didn’t think she could take any more, his hips snapped forward with one, last violent thrust and he moaned, head falling onto her back. She lost her balance and slumped to the floor, his strong length a heavy comfort all along her back. She tried to catch her breath.

  “I didn’t hurt you, did I?” he murmured a few minutes later, sliding her hair out of her face.

  “God, no,” she said. She felt … strange. Like she’d been turned inside out. Everything was different now.

  “I’m sorry,” he breathed into her cheek.

  “For what?” She rolled over and looked him in the eye. “For making me feel so good I forgot my name? For telling me that I’m beautiful?” Her smile faded as she looked him over. He looked tired. His cock hung over his thigh, soft and sweet looking, of all things. “For letting me give you the same pleasure you gave me?”

  He lifted a shoulder, discomfort flitting across his face. “I didn’t expect to have a nightmare tonight.”

  She sighed and tucked her face into his neck. The fire was dying down finally and she was getting cold. “You can’t predict them. Sometimes I’ll get a nightmare every night for a week, and then months will go by with none.”

  He kissed her head. “I didn’t know you had nightmares.”

  She rubbed her face against his skin as if she could scrub away the horror of her childhood. “Yeah, well, let’s just say that my brother learned from a master. Growing up with my dad was … unpleasant.”

  John kissed her again, then swung her into his arms.

  She squeaked. “What are you doing?”

  “I’m taking you to a real bed.” He stood up easily, cradling her like she was precious.

  “What about your shoulder?” She poked at him, not wanting to hurt himself. “I can walk.”

  He laughed. “I’ve got you on my left side, don’t worry. And I’ve carried you before, through the snow. This is nothing.”

  She shook her head at him as he went up the stairs. Even in the dark she could see his bed was rumpled. There were clothes on the floor. John’s cat looked up sleepily from the pile, then yawned and tucked his face back into his tail. A set of dog tags hung from one of the corners of his wooden headboard. He was definitely a bachelor.

  He smiled sheepishly. “I wasn’t expecting company.”

  She chuckled and tucked her face in his neck. “I can see that.”

  He tucked her in without another word, pulling the sheets and comforter up around them both. “Sleep now,” he said, curling around her.

  Liselle let the warmth of his body sink into her bones. He’d seemed okay, after the sex, she thought. She hoped he didn’t regret the sex in the morning. She hoped she didn’t regret it, too.

  ****

  John opened his eyes. Morning sun slanted across his bed and he stretched, feeling better rested than he’d been in years. He reached out a hand and encountered … nothing. He sat up. Liselle was gone.

  “Shit,” he said aloud, running a hand over his face. “Liselle?” he called, pitching his voice louder. Maybe she’d gone downstairs for a drink. No one responded. He looked at the clock. Crap, it was after twelve. When was the last time he’d slept this long? He rubbed his face again. He didn’t remember. He slung back the covers and padded over to the balcony railing, looking down over the living area. The fleece blanket had been folded neatly over the back of the couch. A piece of his yellow notebook paper was balanced precariously on top. Pitbull looked up at him, yawning lazily.

  “Shit,” he said again, a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. She was gone. The cabin felt emptier than it had in a long time.

  When he made it downstairs, after throwing on a pair of ratty boxers and a t-shirt he’d picked up from the floor, he went straight to the note.

  Dear John,

  He had to snort at that. He’d just received his first Dear John letter and he wasn’t even in the Air Force any more. He looked down again, making note of her careful penmanship. She formed all her words very carefully: the l’s curved at the same precise angle, all her t’s crossed. He wondered what part of her life made her crave control so badly she had to take it wherever she could, even in the small things, like writing with an unfamiliar pencil on someone else’s paper.

  Dear John,

  I want to thank you for giving me the gift of last night. I don’t date anymore. I don’t get close to anyone, but you got under my skin somehow, probably because you turned out to be so unexpectedly kind. I’m not used to that.

  Anyway, thank you. I’m leaving now and I won’t bother you or Beth again. My life isn’t safe, and I don’t want either of you to get tangled up in it.

  Please take care of
yourself. I would like to remember you the way you looked this morning: relaxed, smiling, so handsome you took my breath away.

  Fondly, Liselle

  John crumpled the paper and threw it at the sofa. He clenched his fists for a moment, forcing himself to just breathe. Then he walked over to the paper, picked it up and smoothed it out. He walked over to his office area, took down the book his father had given him right before he died, and stuffed the paper next to the messy, looping swirls of his father’s signature.

  It took him two weeks to realize she’d taken one of his dog tags with her, too.

  Chapter Six

  Liselle panted as she hurriedly tied the bandage over her leg. God damn him, she thought, not for the first time. God damn him to hell. Her father was insane, and fixated, and for some reason he felt he had the right to hunt her down no matter where she went. She’d given up relying on the restraining orders she’d arranged. He ignored them and she didn’t have the money to press charges that would stick anyway. He’d been arrested so many times she couldn’t even keep track anymore, but he was always free within a few months, the bastard. It made her sick to think that she shared DNA with the fucker. She still hadn’t figured out how he always found her again. Stupid modern life with its stupid paper trails…

  She spared a moment to give thanks that her brother was finally dead and she didn’t have to worry about him, too. It’d been worse when he was alive—the two of them took special delight in tormenting her together and since Matt was older than her, the last few years before she’d run away had been especially unpleasant. She supposed she should be grateful none of the abuse had been sexual.

  “Fuck,” she hissed as pain shot through her wrist. Tightening the bandage on her thigh stopped the bleeding, but it did nothing for the bruising on her arm. Her father had thrown an iron fry pan at her and she’d blocked it instinctively. She winced. She was lucky it wasn’t broken. She looked around the cheap motel room and sighed. This time she’d only managed to grab her emergency duffel. She’d have to start all over again and she was stuck in the middle of nowhere USA. At least it was warm again outside. It was always easier to pack up and go in the summer.

  The scent of ripe wheat and a hint of diesel wafted in the window. She looked at her leg critically. Did it need stitches this time? The bandage was still white, so maybe she could get away with ignoring it now that she’d cleaned it and smothered antibiotic ointment on it. If she went to a hospital, they’d enter her name in the system, even if she paid with cash. She let herself slump against the wall, watching the parking lot. She didn’t think he’d follow her here. She’d taken a bus this time, paying with cash and using a fake name. Usually she rented a car.

  She winced, thinking about the rental that had broken down in the middle of a blizzard just a few short months ago. Making love with John felt like a dream, now. She closed her eyes and remembered waking up in his loft, early morning sun just peeking into the cabin. He’d looked so beautiful, lying there in bed. Relaxed and innocent, though she knew he had his own demons. Even so, she couldn’t drag him into the mess that was her life. Her father always tracked her down. This time, he’d managed to hook up with her last boyfriend through some twisted fucking karma she couldn’t understand. The boyfriend one who liked to throw pieces of furniture at her. He’d given her father her latest cell phone number because she’d been too tired and too stupid to get a new one.

  She sighed, and let the cheap curtain fall shut. Ohio in July was incredibly dull, but she could use a little dull right now. She wished she could’ve stayed in Pennsylvania, get to know her niece, Beth. Go out to dinner with John, like a normal person. Spend a week not looking over her shoulder. She snorted. Yeah, like that was ever going to happen. She’d spent most of her life running and until the old man dropped dead, she had to keep going.

  She walked over to the bed and fell down on it, hoping the chair she’d wedged under the door would hold if he found her. She fingered the string around her neck, pulling it up until she could see the single dog tag she’d taken that early morning several months ago. Her fingers traced along the name inscribed in the metal, smoothed over the rubber silencers. She fell asleep with it in her hand, thinking about the way John had touched her, as if she was worth something. As if she was precious.

  “I think you should look her up,” Jenn was saying over her sandwich.

  John sighed. “She made it clear that she didn’t want us to. Didn’t want me to.”

  “Beth really liked her.” Jenn took a bite of her pickle and chewed noisily. John wisely didn’t mention her appalling lack of table manners. Older sisters could be vicious when you pointed out things like that. Plus, she had a piece of pickle on her cheek and it was more fun trying to calculate when it would fall off than it would be letting her know she was a slob.

  “She wrote me a Dear John letter, Jenn. Seriously.” Even as he said it he knew the explanation would be wasted on her.

  “That’s ridiculous,” his sister said, taking a sip of her iced tea. “You’re not in the military anymore. And you never dated her. You can’t get a breakup letter from her.”

  He rolled his eyes. Just one night with Liselle had felt like five years with any other woman. “My name’s John. She left me a note that said, ‘Thanks, don’t look me up.’ That’s a Dear John letter if you ask me.”

  “This is why we don’t ask you,” Jean said as she walked into the kitchen, sitting down. She slapped a postcard on the table in front of him then extracted two more from her pocket. “See those? They’re from three different states. Every time Beth gets one in the mail she gets all sad.”

  He poked at the scraps of paper. All of them bore battered photos of state landmarks, the kind of postcard you’d buy when you were at a gas station or motel.

  “So? She moves around a lot. Some people travel for their jobs,” he said. He wasn’t going to make more of this than he had to. He took a huge bite of his sandwich, trying to chew fast. It was a mistake coming here for lunch and the sooner he finished eating and could escape his sisters the better.

  Jean huffed. “You know what kind of brother she had.”

  John sighed. “Matt’s dead, remember?” He rolled his head, cracking his neck. His dog tag chain caught on his hair and he moved a finger beneath it to readjust it before it pinched. He had to get a haircut.

  “When did you start wearing that again?” Jenn asked him, frowning over her glass.

  John took another bite of his sandwich and chewed slowly this time, hoping she would forget she’d asked if he took long enough. He didn’t look at the postcards on the table.

  She lifted a brow at him impatiently.

  He sighed and swallowed. “A few months ago.” He took another bite, following it with a gulp of water.

  Jean glared at him. “You don’t need them anymore.”

  John pushed his plate away, appetite gone. He’d only eaten half of his lunch. “I need to get back to work.”

  “You only just got here,” Jenn said, clearly disappointed.

  Too bad, sis. Maybe next time you won’t interrogate me and we can all enjoy our lunch, he thought, standing up. He grabbed his cell phone. “Yeah, well, I’ve got stuff to do this afternoon.” He downed the rest of his water. “Tell Beth I said hi.” He turned and walked through the hall and out the front door before his sisters could protest. They could deal with his half-eaten sandwich and their self-righteous opinions on their own. He didn’t need to listen to it. He had enough regrets about that night without them piling more on him.

  Outside, he paused next to his truck and ran a hand down the shiny black paint. It was a nice pickup, had all the amenities, but he missed his grandfather’s truck. He’d never got it working again after Liselle had left. It’d felt like a sign, as if the universe was telling him: give it up, already. She’s not coming back.

  He pinched the bridge of his nose, willing himself to stop the self-pity. Stop thinking about her, you idiot. Enough. The sun was shining,
there was a lovely breeze blowing through the trees, and he had plenty of work to keep him occupied. So what if he couldn’t focus? He remembered the way she’d looked that night: vulnerable, sweet, and passionate. Her blue eyes seemed to hold the answer to everything he’d ever wanted to know, and then she was gone like it had been nothing more than a good dream. One night with her and he was ruined for life.

  He grimaced, trying to get his mind back on work. He opened the door and put a foot up, about to climb in, when his cell phone rang. When he eased it out of his pocket, he didn’t recognize the number. Should he answer? It rang again, buzzing against his palm. Shit. What the hell, he was already totally distracted. He ran a thumb over the display and put it to his ear.

  “Hello?”

  “Is this John Steele?” a male voice asked.

  “Yeah. Who is this?” John leaned against his truck, ignoring his sister waving at him from the doorway.

  “Look, you’ve got to come and get her. She’s sick. And she didn’t pay her bill for the last two days.” The man sounded irritated and hoarse, as though he’d been smoking a lot. Or yelling.

  John frowned. “Who the hell are you and what are you talking about?”

  “I’ve got a woman in my motel, name of Lisa Parkins.”

  John sighed. “I don’t know anyone—”

  The man cut him off. “She’s wearing a dog tag and your name is on it.”

  John froze, the muscles in his neck and shoulder suddenly knotted. “Long dark hair? Blue eyes?” he barked out as his heart gave a thump. The man said she was sick. Shit.

  “I don’t know about long, but it’s dark. She has blue eyes and what looks like an infected cut on her leg. Bruised up, too, hurt her ankle. If you don’t come get her, I’m going to call 911. And since she paid for two days with cash and kept looking behind her the whole time, I get the feeling she wouldn’t want that.”