by Dita Parker
Oh god, he was barely touching her but every passing caress amplified the tingling in her gut and cunt making her quiver uncontrollably.
“Like that, honey?” he whispered and placed a warm, long, open-mouthed kiss on the junction of her neck and shoulder.
“Like teasing me, baby?” she gasped.
“No,” he breathed next to her ear. “I love it.” He gave both nipples a tender pinch, his cock jutting and flexing against her bottom.
“Lift your leg for me.”
After a hesitant, breathless moment, Lucie lifted her leg to rest on his, making room for him between her legs. “That’s it.”
He slid his shaft along the cleft of her ass for a moment. He was hard, so hard and hot on her skin Lucie rocked her hips to meet him, to force him closer still.
“Shh. Don’t move.” Adjusting his hips, he kissed her nape, her crown. “Let me give it to you.”
It sounded wonderful, and really frustrating. He was taking over again. Again, she had no strength or will to fight him. He didn’t need force to make her to do his bidding. He only needed—
Hmm yes. The supple tip of his cock pressed into her thighs, the hot crown dipping between her legs. He ran one hand over her waist and hip. “Keep your thighs together, okay? As tight as you can. This is going to feel so good,” he crooned, guiding her leg. He pushed, the wide plane gliding along her slit until the crest found her clit.
Lucie jerked, her hips twitching restlessly. His hand snaked to her mound. Using his fingers, he spread her pussy lips as best as he could, his cock burrowing deeper between her folds.
“God, you’re creamy, baby. I wish I could fuck you and lick you at the same time. Damn!” He pulled back and immediately surged forward, the thick column dragging along her wet lips and targeting her clit again.
Lucie’s back arched on a drawn-out groan, her ass bucking against his crotch. His cock jerked between her legs, a moan escaping him as he gripped her hip firmly,anchoring her to him.
“Tell me you still want this.” His voice was low, guttural. He could be a terrible tease, but he wasn’t impervious. She was ready. So was Mac. If only she could get him to loosen up his hold just so, just a little, so she could tilt her hips. If she adjusted the angle, he wouldn’t torment her clit, he would push right into her pussy where she wanted him.
“I still want you, Mac. You know I do. Very much.”
He kissed her hair. “I want you too, baby. Even more.” Finally loosening his hold, he readjusted her leg over his to give him open access to her pussy. Only to begin a series of easy thrusts between her thighs, his cock gliding along her slick lips but careful not to enter her.
God, it was sweet. And so frustrating, Lucie squirmed.
“Patience,” he murmured.
“Not my strong suit,” she grumbled.
“Ah but you’re a spoiled one. Too used to getting what you want when you want it with nothing more than a bat of your lashes and a sultry smile. But you’re forgetting this isn’t the little league.”
“Oh it most certainly isn’t,” she groaned. “I can feel just how big of a league this is.”
“Flattery won’t get you anywhere, either, baby,” he rasped, his hips rolling against hers in the maddening pace he’d set. Every time the tip of his cock brushed her clit the pleasure crested, only to recede when he drew the length back.
“What does a girl have to do to get you to fuck her?” Lucie wailed.
“Let’s see. A girl could start by letting me take her out for breakfast. Then she could show me her favorite places around town. Explain to me why the Pulaski monument stands in Monterey Square and not Pulaski Square, why Nathanael Greene is buried in Johnson Square and not the one actually named after him and so on. When it’s time for lunch she could let me take her to Bonaventure for a picnic, maybe introduce me to Dr. Arnold. That kind of thing.”
What? He couldn’t reopen negotiations now.
“We had a deal,” she reminded him.
He stopped moving, his cock buried between her legs and resting firmly against her slit.
“What deal?”
“The deal where you give me hot sex in exchange for a night of sleep in my bed.”
“Oh that deal.” He nibbled her jaw. “You should always read the fine print.”
“The what?” She tried turning her head to try to see if he was as serious as he sounded. Mac gripped her chin gently and pressed her cheek back on his biceps.
“The fine print, honey. Where it says you let me take you out for breakfast afterward. Give me a chance to get to know you better.”
He wasn’t joking. He was blackmailing her again. Tempting her to step well beyond her comfort zone with his incredible body and the promise of mind-blowing sex.
“I think you’re thinking of giving me that chance,” he said. “I want that chance. I’m not afraid of who and what you are, baby, just terrified of how fast you’ve gotten under my skin.”
Oh but she knew that feeling.
“And if brushing me off is what you’re thinking, you should know I won’t go quietly and I don’t give up easily.”
It sounded like a warning, a demand and an ultimatum.
“You’re some kind of negotiator, aren’t you? A spin doctor. Or a litigator. Some form of con man. Or…something.”
“Or something,” he said. “Actually, I’m a—”
“Don’t say it. I don’t wanna know.”
“Okay.” Sounding indignant, he froze. Long seconds passed, his big body rigid before he melted against her as if on command.
His hand returned to her mound. One broad finger settled on her clit.
“Well?” The tinge of annoyance was gone, replaced by heavy seduction. He followed up by nudging the ultrasensitive knot of nerves with the pad of his finger.
Oh god.
One word, one damn digit, and she was putty. As if she had been born yesterday, not some two hundred and sixty years ago.
“You make it sound so…” She didn’t know what it was. She couldn’t think straight while he held her, pleasured her, acted so damn caring. She could take a pounding. But this, this—
“Uncomplicated? Natural? Right? It’s all that, Lucie, if you want it to be. It’s what normal people do,” he explained.
“I’m not normal. I’m a freak.”
In a flash, Lucie found herself on her back and face-to-face with Mac. The fire she’d heard in his voice blazed in his eyes, but it was more than lust she saw in his expression. There was that anger again, the same resentment she’d seen the night she had tried to play him, and something that looked an awful lot like disappointment.
“Keep telling yourself that,” he said. “I bet you’ve been talking yourself out of human emotions since the Lincoln presidency. You never died but you’re hardly living either, buried alive in this mausoleum of yours.”
Lucie gasped. “How dare you. How dare you. That is so unfair. I have no choice! Do you think that not a day goes by I don’t wish I could turn back time and undo what I did the day I turned? I should be dead and buried. That’s what and where I should be.”
“But you’re not,” he said. “You’re a living, breathing, vibrant woman. Act like it. Lay it on me, Lucie, I can take it,” he demanded.
If only she could. How she wished she could.
With him.
“I can’t.” Her voice was a faint, resigned whisper. “I’m sorry but I can’t.”
As if failing or refusing to understand, Mac shook his head. “You want to,” he insisted.
“It makes no difference what I want.”
“Bullshit, Lucie.”
The anger was turning into hurt, she could feel it. She could hear it in the tightness of his voice, sense it in the way he slowly drew from her, away from her, to sit beside her on the bed. She could see it in his eyes, the deep frown on his brow smoothing to a stare so full of sorrow and dismay it broke her heart.
She had caused that look and it killed her. She had done
that to him and she hated herself for it. And now she would have to go the distance and finish what she’d started. Put the mask back on, remember her role and take him apart. “I told you all I wanted was sex.”
“And I told you I wanted more than that. I told you plain and clear. So why am I here? What is this? What am I?”
“A momentary lapse of reason. A luxury I can’t afford.”
“Bull. Shit. You came on to me that night at Boyd’s. You invited me to Smoke and Mirrors. You brought me here, Lucie. Your home, your sanctuary. You broke your one-time-only rule. You’ve tried to connect with me at every turn, so as much as you’d probably like to, you do not call all the shots in this relationship.”
“This is not a relationship!”
On a disgusted huff, Mac sprung from the bed to pace the floor. “You don’t want this to mean anything.” He shot her a glance. “But it already means something. Admit it.”
She couldn’t. She wouldn’t.
She had found no reason to hate him. But she could give him plenty of reasons to despise her. “Do you have any idea how many men I’ve slept with?”
Mac stopped and threw his hands in the air. “No. Do you? Have you kept count? Put them all down in a little black book? ‘Dear Diary, Mr. Number 499 had nice stamina but was a slim-dick. Dear Diary, celebrated my five hundredth conquest with a long bath, champagne and cupcakes’.” His impersonation would have been funny had his voice not been so tight.
“I don’t believe it doesn’t bother you.”
“Not for a minute does it bother me,” he said, his voice more steady now. “They meant nothing to you. You don’t remember their names. You don’t even remember their faces. But you’re going to remember mine, aren’t you, baby? That’s what you’re afraid of. You’re afraid your body will remember how I touched you, how good it felt. Because when I make love to you, you sure as hell aren’t thinking of them. That’s why you’re so bent on pushing me away.”
Whoever Mac was, he saw right through her, Lucie thought. He would make an awesome, infuriatingly insightful but seriously sexy and fun partner. Hoping he understood she meant it, Lucie said, “You deserve someone who’ll give you what you want and can take what you offer. Commitment, a family, a future. I wish I could be that woman.”
“That makes two of us.”
Getting up from the bed, Lucie searched his eyes, snaring his gaze in hers. How to make him understand? “I’m truly sorry I let things go too far. I wish I’d never let it go this far.”
He let out a harsh breath. “That makes one of us. The fact is you let it go this far. Because you want this as much as I do. You’re just scared. You’re scared, that’s all. Believe me, I know all about scared. And I know all about getting over it. I know enough for both of us, so trust me on this, will you?”
Stepping up to him, Lucie went on tiptoes, took his face in her hands and pressed a kiss on his lips. Mac didn’t kiss her back, only stared at her as if anticipating what she would say next.
“I can’t, Mac,” she whispered.
“You can’t what?” he demanded. “You can get laid but you can’t be loved? You’ll let me fuck you but you won’t let me love you?”
Lucie inhaled sharply. “How can you even use that word?”
“Because this is more than physical to me. It’s personal. It’s been all along, Lucie. I warned you. Told you I’m not sated with snacking. A little skin, some sex, nothing more, nothing serious. People say they don’t have time for relationships. Well, I don’t have time for anything less, baby. It’s just not fulfilling. A fuck’s all good and well. When your heart’s in it too.”
“You are such a romantic.”
“You make it sound like a dirty word. Think it’s unmanly?”
“I think it’s absolutely adorable,” she whispered, her eyes and tone full of sorrow and what he wanted to believe was hero worship.
Seeing her drop out of character, Mac saw his chance. “I’ll show you adorable,” he growled and pulled Lucie to him.
It wasn’t a gentle kiss. There was no buildup, no hint of seduction as he held her head in place and raped her mouth with his.
“Don’t be scared, baby,” he whispered against her lips.
“I’m terrified,” she confessed.
He pressed his forehead against hers and closed his eyes briefly. “Don’t be. There’s no need to be, Lucie, please. Just let me show you how sweet it can be. I want to give you reason to live but you gotta let me. You gotta let me in, tell me how you feel.”
Lucie tried to squirm out of his arms only to have him cage her in more tightly. “Tell me you felt nothing when you saw me dancing with Anika. Holding her close, whispering in her ear, laughing. It was all for show. To make you jealous. Either tell me you don’t give a shit or stop slamming me for wanting you. All of you. I’m willing to put everything in me into this but I need for you to do the same. So stop holding out and take it. Take everything I want to give you. It’s free, you know.”
“But is it unconditional?”
“Wanna know what I talked about with Anika? The passion we share?”
She snorted. “No.”
“I think you do. I think you’re dying to.”
“Shut up, MacCale.”
“You. We talked about you. About wanting you. Exchanged fantasies. Surprised?”
He saw it in her face. Anika had told him she’d made no bones about being interested in Lucie when they had first met at Smoke and Mirrors nor hidden the fact she dated men as well.
“Want to know what I think and Anika suspects?” he asked.
“Not really, no.”
She looked cornered. Mac felt like a bona fide bastard. And so close to what he wanted—for Lucie to trust him not only with her past but with her future as well—he couldn’t back down now.
“I think that under all that poise and charisma of yours, you’re beaten black and blue. You claim lustful souls, pick on men’s needs while burying yours but it isn’t working, is it? Tell me you don’t choke on tears when you’re done because you only feel worse? Admit to me that you’re raw and small and needy, that you feel something. Anything.”
Lucie remained silent for the longest moment.
Was she relieved? Enraged? Or utterly, irrevocably routed down to her soul, if she could admit to having one?
“And what kind of feelings would you have me display?” she spat at him, trembling head to toe. “The empty rage I feel over a fate I can’t change? The envy I feel toward every normal, mortal human being? The longing to be just like them? And how about fear? The fear of never finding a cure, of never being free of this curse, free to love, free to die, free to know peace?
“Happy now? Feeling good and big and almighty? Satisfied? You have the power to hurt me. Is that what you want to hear? There. I’ve said it. You have the power to fucking destroy me. Is that your goal? Would that be the ultimate satisfaction?”
Shaking his head, Mac grunted. “That just goes to show how little you know about me, Lucie. But you never let me tell you, do you? You never want to hear me talk about it. All you know from your studies is that I’m thirty-six, I was born in Portland, my mother’s name is Margaret and my father’s name is John. I have a brother and a niece, I’ve never been married but I hope to be one day. You wanna know what else? I’m a stunt performer and coordinator with thirteen years experience.”
She gasped. “I don’t want to hear this.”
Well that was just too bad.
“I got into it because of Evel Knievel.”
Lucie closed her eyes. “Stop.”
“My nickname is Felix, after the cartoon cat. The man with nine lives.”
“Stop it.” Her voice fluttered with rage, her lids pinched tight.
“My favorite color is green,” he calmly continued. “I don’t tickle under the arms. I like things that go boom and va-va-voom. I don’t mind a take-charge woman if she doesn’t mind me hogging the driver’s seat every now and then. I’m falling in
love with you, Lucie, and you’re breaking my heart.”
Her eyes snapped open. There was shock there, her whole expression screaming disbelief and regret.
He’d only told her the truth. Too bad if she couldn’t face it.
“It’s scary, isn’t it? Gut-wrenching and heart-ripping and soul-shattering, the hold someone can get on you, the spell they can put on you. It’s what everyone fears and craves the most. And you know what? That’s life. That’s living. Deny it all you want but you’ll miss what you felt with me. You’ll hunt that rush, you’ll hunger for it, try to duplicate it, but I promise you, Lucie, it won’t be the same. It will never be the same with them because they don’t know you. Because all you do is use them and let yourself be used by them. But it isn’t the same. Until your heart is in it too, it will never be the same, you’ll see.”
For a moment Lucie looked genuinely stricken. He was holding her tight. She held herself tighter. Then the frustrating air of elusiveness he’d done his damnedest to break through descended upon her, the blank mask of mystery slipping back into place.
“You need to leave.” Her regal tone brooked no argument.
So that was how it was gonna be.
“You forgot to say ‘please’. You forgot to say ‘It’s not you, it’s me’ and ‘Things are moving too fast’. You forgot to pay me for my services because frankly, I feel like a whore. Well fuck you, Lucie. Find yourself another fuck buddy to masturbate with.”
Abruptly, Mac released her, sidestepped her and went for his clothes.
“Excuse me?” Lucie stuttered, whirling around to face him.
Mac started dressing. Working with a fury born out of frustration he pulled on the items with such force he expected to tear something at any second.
“You heard me. And if you didn’t, let me spell it out for you. This sex you’re having, this femme fatale act you have down to a science—an art—is nothing but masturbation. And I’ll be damned if I’ll let you use my dick to practice it.”
He understood. He truly did. How to make Lucie understand his side, Mac had no idea. His bag of tricks was running empty. His declarations had only made her pull away from him. “Don’t get me wrong, baby. I like a good time in bed as much as the next guy. And the sex is good. It’s fantastic. It just isn’t enough.”