PerpetualPleasure

by Dita Parker

  Lucie stared into the narrowed eyes of the most amazing man she had ever known.

  “You chose me, Lucie. I choose you too.”

  His voice was steady and clear. Hers was no more than a high-pitched wail of agony that sparked her body back to life and sent MacCale running across the hall. Lucie darted after him without knowing what else she could do but ready to attempt anything to stop him from ruining his life.

  MacCale didn’t know what he was in for. He didn’t know what the hell he was getting into but hell was what he would face if she didn’t stop him.

  Only he was faster. Lucie reached the door as it closed in on her and locked. “No. No. No!” It was her voice, ringing over and over in her head, a cry, a scream, a desperate plea falling on deaf ears. Those had to be her hands banging on the door but she couldn’t feel them, didn’t register the hurt, the blood on her knuckles or the cracking nails.

  “Mac!”

  Thinking she heard something, Lucie went stone still and closed her eyes. She pressed her cheek against the door and tried to listen in on him, trying to catch some sound, some proof of life, mortal or eternal.

  She knew what would happen next. As clearly as she remembered the day she had entered into her endless existence she could see MacCale taking hold of the golden clasp and unlocking the box, readying himself to open the lid, deciding to only take a quick peek, just a sneaky little peek…

  As all hell broke loose beyond the door, Lucie lost control of her body. She heard MacCale’s massive roar, could almost see him slamming the lid shut tight again. He would stagger and heave as he lost control of his sight and breathing. He would fall on his knees, just as Lucie had fallen on hers, just as she now fell again, slithering down the door, her eyes dry, her body in shock.

  She could hear MacCale gasping for air and trembled violently. She heard him try to yell something and hugged herself tightly. She listened in as the sounds of struggle and distress gradually lessened, then died out.

  Everything was still. Everything was quiet.

  If he dies, I don’t want this life anymore.

  If he is dead, please let me die too.

  Gods or demons, angels or devils, whoever you are, if you have him, take me too.

  I can’t live without him.

  I won’t.

  * * * * *

  “What are you doing?”

  “Clipping your nails. Man, your hands are tiny. You should be glad I’ve practiced with Em.”

  More than a little disoriented, Lucie noticed she was back in her bedroom and in the bed, a hand towel spread on her lap. She remembered waking up in the sleeping porch bed to find MacCale missing. She had gone after him and—

  All of what happened after she found him rained down on Lucie in a torrent. He had willingly taken upon himself what she wouldn’t wish on her worst enemy. She had been too weak to stop him. And he had been as strong and decisive as ever.

  It was the bravest, most stupid, unconditionally loving thing anyone had ever done for her.

  For her. All for her.

  Sensing her strange mood, MacCale lifted his eyes from the painstaking task of rescuing her ragged nails and asked, “Are you all right?”

  “Am I all right? Am I all right?” Lucie swatted his fingers, shooed away his hands. “What’s the matter with you?”

  “Nothing now that I know you’re okay, but you gave me quite a scare, baby. I found you lying outside the door, pale and still as death, your hands all bloody. Then you wouldn’t wake up and for a minute I thought I’d fucked up. That the entity or whatever the hell it is had switched hosts.”

  MacCale drew a deep breath, closed his eyes briefly. “Oh god, Lucie—” He snatched her hands back in his. “It wouldn’t have been a life worth living. Not without my queen.” He kissed her fingers below the cuts and bruises he had cleaned up while she had been out.

  “You should have listened, Mac. Didn’t you listen to a word I said?”

  His hands were gentle on hers. There was nothing soft in his eyes, nothing but hardened resolve in his tone when he finally answered her. “I don’t care what you said. Everything you’ve done says you want me too.”

  Unbelievable. He obviously didn’t understand the situation, the implications or the consequences of his actions.

  Perplexed, Lucie shook her head. “Why aren’t you terrified? You should be petrified. Unless you tell your family what you’ve done, you’ll have to disappear in a few years. You’re running out of time already. You’ll have to stop working. You’ll have to cease to exist. Leave everything behind before people notice there’s something wrong with you. You’ll become a fugitive, always on the run from your former life, from everyone and everything you loved.”

  He flashed her a maddeningly confident smile. “I will have to give up stunt work eventually anyway. It’s what I do, not who I am. Who I am is a man capable of doing more than one thing well.” He pinched her nose. “And I’ll have you to run with. You seem to have done all right for yourself. In all your incarnations.”

  He was doing it again, Lucie marveled. Treating the extraordinary as commonplace. He had no fucking idea.

  Before she knew it, she had slapped him. Horrified, Lucie squeezed the tingling palm against her chest. She could feel a mortified blush creeping into her face. “Oh my god. Oh my god. I’m sorry. I’m not that woman. I’m. Not.”

  Calmly, MacCale took the hand back in his. “I earned my stripes throwing and taking punches, okay? I bet that hurt you more than it hurt me.” To emphasize the point, he inspected her palm, gave it a soothing kiss then placed it flat on his own. Entwining his fingers with hers, MacCale squeezed her hand lightly.

  “You think it was an on-the-spur-of-a-moment thing, but you’re wrong. I’ve been looking for a solution all summer long. That box was the only thing that stood between us. The last remaining obstacle. And my only option. Rant and rave all you want, Lucie. You know I’m right.”

  Still refusing to comprehend he had done it, voluntarily, she said, “We’ll kill each other. Start to hate each other.”

  MacCale merely rolled a shoulder. “Then we’ll spend some time apart.”

  “I don’t think I could stand that,” Lucie mumbled, still deeply ashamed she had possibly hurt him in her shock.

  Placing her hands to her sides, MacCale folded the towel and set it aside with the clippers. “I don’t think I could stand that, either. But if that’s what you need, that’s what I’ll give you. Whatever it takes, baby. We’ll work it out. We can travel or we can stay here. Our secret is safe in this town. And you’ll always be safe with me.”

  He lifted her chin for a kiss. It was small and tentative, as if he wasn’t sure if she would welcome it. “God, how I missed you, baby.”

  Deciding to torture him just a little bit further, Lucie didn’t reciprocate. She narrowed her eyes on him instead. If he felt unsure, he never mentioned it. He smoothed the backs of his fingers over her cheek and leaned into her to kiss her more deeply.

  It was sweet. Thrilling. It melted her ire and if once upon a time that would have riled her even further, it didn’t bother her now. She didn’t want to go on without his kisses or his company, without Mac’s arms around her or his cock inside her.

  She wouldn’t.

  MacCale leaned back and stole a quick kiss before asking, “Will you take my name when we marry?”

  “Do you mean if we marry?”

  Grinning sheepishly, he said, “No, when.”

  “You’re thinking of ways to blackmail me again, aren’t you?”

  “What makes you say that?”

  “You got that look again.”

  “What look would that be?”

  “That look. That determined ‘I’m gonna get my way no matter what you say’ look.”

  “Really? I was going for the ‘I’m gonna have my way with you and you’re gonna love it’ look.”

  Lucie couldn’t help but laugh. “Are you always this insatiable?”

  F
rowning deeply, he mock-pondered the matter for a moment. “Only when I’m forced to go without you for months. Then again, I’m in the best shape of my life after expending all the surplus sexual energy working out.”

  The man was all business. So was his body. “You had plenty of energy last night.”

  “I’ve built some serious stamina over the summer. And you should know by now I’m always thorough and detailed in everything I do.”

  “You’re impossible, you know that?”

  Pulling Lucie into his arms, MacCale gathered her against him and said, “Nothing is impossible, Lucie. I hope I’ve proven that.”

  Sitting entwined for a long time, sharing the most comfortable silence Lucie had ever experienced with anyone, she pressed her face into MacCale’s chest to breathe him in before whispering, “I missed you. So much it hurt. But it’s a good hurt, one I can live with as long as I get to go on with you.”

  He pressed a kiss on her head, one hand holding her tight, the other caressing her back with warm, gentle fingers.

  “You got yourself a deal, mademoiselle Marcotte soon-to-be Moore.”

  “But there is something else you should know,” she said.

  Lucie felt MacCale stiffen, a quiet reserve taking him over even if he didn’t say a word. Maybe she should have chosen her phrasing differently, but it somehow pleased her to know he was paying attention, that he truly cared enough to listen close. He would also have to stop hanging on her every word, and he would definitely have to stop analyzing her so closely at every turn.

  “I have lived for so long. Experienced so much.”

  “And…?”

  Just as his tender hands could mold her to his will, MacCale could turn her inside out with nothing more than a soft-spoken, dread-dripping syllable. Lucie closed her eyes against the tears that threatened to wash them, a flood of gratitude washing over her instead.

  “And yet you have managed to give me something I have never known. Something no other man has ever given me. I didn’t want it from them. But you made me want it from you. You have to understand how precious a gift that is, how beautiful.”

  MacCale leaned back to look at her as if she was all he wanted, all he needed. She had waited a lifetime to feel like this. Now she had several to look forward to with him.

  “So thank you, Mac. Thank you, thank you, thank you…” Lucie tried to bank the waves of emotion threatening to break free. A tear escaped, then another, until she silently cried against his chest. The sting of tears that used to feel so bitter didn’t feel so hurtful now, not when he tugged her to him and held her, just held her. He caressed her hair, her back, whispered soothing words that only made the flow of tears heavier. She couldn’t stop, only burrow deeper into his chest. To Lucie’s surprise and relief, the embarrassment she waited on never came. She did feel safe with him. Safe and sound. With that realization the swell of emotion finally ebbed.

  MacCale wiped her chin and cheeks, patted the corner of her eyes before lifting her jaw and forcing her to face him. The fire and tenderness in his eyes almost opened the flood gates again.

  “You’ve never cried in front of a man, have you?”

  “I’ve never cried in front of anyone,” Lucie confessed.

  He raised a dark, rapt brow. “Another first, huh? I’m honored. And humbled. The queen trusts me with her feelings. All of them.”

  “Are you making fun of me?”

  He shrank back. “I wouldn’t dare. I could be beheaded. Quartered. Castrated.”

  “You are making fun of me.”

  He kissed her temple, smoothed back her hair. “Never hide from me, Lucie, you hear?” His voice broke. It turned thick, almost chocked as he said, “And don’t thank me just yet, honey. We’re only getting started with this giving and sharing business. After clamming up for so long, I don’t expect it to come easily for you. But just knowing you want this as much as I do makes me want to give you everything you’ve only dreamed of.”

  Everything she’d only dreamed of? What about his dreams for the future? Had she stolen the ones he cherished most? Lucie felt compelled to level with him. “I’ve been around for quite a while, Mac. I don’t know if I can conceive.”

  “Your body is twenty-six years old. We’ll worry about that if and when there’s something to worry about. Practice makes perfect, remember?” His mouth was on her lips now, whispering raggedly. “Who do you belong to?”

  “You, Mac. I belong to you.”

  “Say my name again,” he demanded and nipped her lower lip.

  “MacCale.”

  “And who do I belong to?” Lucie felt his hands tightening around her, careful not to hurt but borderline doing so as he waited for an answer.

  “You belong to me.”

  MacCale’s hold loosened but only so he could lay her down. His large body descended behind her, warm and sheltering. He kissed her shoulders, nipped at her neck and throat, groaning harshly as his hips burrowed into hers.

  “Hell yes.” He set his chin on the top of her head. “Now this is my kind of ending. Boy meets girl, girl seduces boy, boy gets sexy revenge and the girl.”

  He was impossible. And mine. Mine for all time.

  “You’re very assertive, aren’t you? A slick feller from the city, as Governor Talmadge used to say.”

  “In my line of work, you have to be. Is that going to be problem, baby?”

  She didn’t need to look up at him. She knew she would only see what she heard in his voice—dogged determination, a fierce and passionate stand, everything she had once feared and now loved and admired about him.

  “It might, because so am I. And habits that old could well be immortal.”

  “That’ll only keep things interesting. And heated. We’ll take turns at the helm, how’s that?” Lucie felt his hand creep to her butt and begin kneading softly.

  “I don’t know.” She closed her eyes and concentrated on the feel of his large body against hers, his firm hand on her ass. His body alone was enough to make a woman go wild with lust, and his cool and fearless approach to anything and anyone made him even more appealing.

  He moved to fondle her breast in passing, flicked a nipple into a hard bead he teased mercilessly. When she thought she would come from the mere feel of his fingers on her breast, MacCale flipped her to her back, his hand going to her face to trace her jaw.

  Lucie stole a glance at his erection, pulsing strong. It made her mouth go dry and her body heat up as hot as ever.

  “There’s so much I need to learn about you, honey. So much I want to teach you.” A finger stole to her mouth, rubbed her lips. “Whatever it takes. Whatever you need. You’re not alone, Lucie. You’ll never be alone again.”

  Her eyes shot to his cock and back up again. Lucie trapped his finger in her mouth and suckled at the thick digit. She put her arms around his wide back, running her hands along bunched, cut muscles and sleek skin. Wandering over to the tight ridge of his ass, she tried to sink her fingers where there was no give.

  “Let me taste you.”

  “Taste me? Taste me how, honey?”

  “I want to taste your cock.” She licked his finger up and down, sucked at the tip until he winced.

  “How bad?”

  “Excuse me?”

  His finger glided into her mouth and along her tongue. He pulled it back and tapped her lips. “How bad do you want to suck my dick? You want a taste, you need to give me something in return.”

  Swallowing hard, Lucie reached out and gripped his cock, stroked the heavy length of his shaft. “Something like this?” She pumped him harder, teased the heated head with the tips of her fingers.

  MacCale jerked, his butt flexing. “Not exactly.”

  Thrilled by his edgy voice, Lucie gave him one last lingering stroke before letting go.

  He sighed as if relieved. “Bad baby. You know what I want. I want to hear you say it.”

  “I trust you, Mac. With my life.”

  “And I love you. With all my he
art and soul.”

  Lucie heard his solemnly spoken words. She let them sink in, let his tenderness and candor flow through her.

  “You’re everything I’ve never dared dream of, and nothing like I expected loving to feel like.”

  MacCale slipped his hand between them, probed her fast-dampening pussy lips. He was barely touching her but it was enough to make Lucie’s eyes close then flutter open in a rush as he started circling the knot of her clit.

  “Say it, Lucie.” His voice was no less demanding.

  Lost in sensation, she wheezed, “Can’t talk. Being pleasured.”

  Smiling provocatively, MacCale plucked her distended flesh. And stopped. “I guess we’ll have to negotiate. You tell me you love me, I spoil you with incredible sex.”

  “Incredible, huh?” Lucie asked.

  “Brain-blasting,” he assured her.

  “Oh, you play dirty, Mr. Moore.”

  “And I never, ever, give up.”

  “Thank the everloving heavens for that.”

  The End

  About Dita Parker

  Born in her European passport country, raised in South America and schooled in two English dialects, Dita attributes her passion for writing to a lifetime of keeping it together while moving around. A firmly uprooted Third Culture Kid, she is an insatiable student of language and culture.

  Swept away and carried off by a Nordic hunk, Dita now reins in her wanderlust one sizzling escapist story at a time. She reads and writes several genres, but admits when prodded, writing erotica is the most fun she has with her clothes on.

  Dita welcomes comments from readers. You can find her website and email address on her author bio page at www.ellorascave.com.

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