by Raven Gale
Chapter 9
He leans over my legs as I try to slide back on the bed. His fingers shackle my ankles, and he slowly slides his fingers over the stockings. I freeze except for the occasional tremor. Slowly, he pulls me back to him, positioning me right at the edge of the mattress. Letting my legs lower to the floor, the look on his face says he fucking loves the way my heels push my knees up and out slightly, almost as much as he loves how I'm fighting to keep them closed. He trails his fingers up to my knees and grips them. Maybe it is a little hard, but my eyes flare with heat as he thrusts them apart, revealing my silk covered core. He stares. The panties are soaked, and the fabric is molded to my pussy. He reaches out and runs a finger along the seam that is just hidden from his view, wet heat coating the tip when he pulls it back. My whimper makes him harder.
My fingers clench in the covers on the bed, and I fight to remain still. I want the panties off so he can to see what's beneath. He reaches out and unhooks the garters, and I raise a brow. He has done this before. It takes only a moment and his finger slides under the pink fabric of my panties, and he slides them over my hips. I lift my ass, allowing him to remove the last barrier from between us. He tosses them to the side and stares at his prize. The short trimmed hair is glistening with my cream. He pauses, trying to take his time but he can't stop himself from reaching out and running a finger through the glistening moisture. I watch him as he draws his finger into his mouth, tasting me, and my core clenches. That's all it takes; one taste and he's falling on me like a ravenous animal.
He blows a breath on my sex and watches as my body arches, my head falling back. I can barely support myself on my elbows. His finger runs down my cleft, followed by his tongue. My body bucks at the first lap. A sound breaks from him somewhere between a growl and a moan, and it vibrates over my clit.
"Tastes like warm honey with a hint of spice." he murmurs against my soaked lips. "It is an addicting flavor, one I plan to savor as long as I can."
He eats at me, driving his tongue deep as he rubs gently against my nub with the pad of his finger. He flattens his tongue and laps at me, long and slow with pressure and then fast little flicks that barely touch my quivering flesh. I'm grinding myself into him, and he is fucking loving it. My breaths are coming in gasps. I feel my body tightening as I climb toward my release, and he stops, moving back slightly. His lips are glistening with my juices, and he licks at them as our eyes lock, mine are unfocused and filled with desire.
"You're killing me." I pant while reaching for his hair. My fingers tangle in it as I try to pull him back to me. He resists and revels in the pain as I tighten my hold. His eyes fill with a dare. Daring me to take whatever he gives me or demand what I want. He lets me pull him forward but doesn't give me the release I want. Instead, he pushes two fingers deep, lifting his eyes so he can watch as my eyes cloud more. It heightens both of our pleasure, my response, my need. He starts to withdraw, and my body tries to follow. He grips my hip with his left hand, holding me still. Filling me slowly again, feeling my body squeeze at his fingers, he licks lightly over my bud, and I make a sound I don't recognize. God, the sound, I hope he hears it in his dreams. It is something like a scream but with a deep moan mixed in. My fingers tighten more in his hair, and I drag him closer. He places his mouth over my nub, and just as he feels me begin to grow desperate, he bites down. The pleasure mixed with pain sends my orgasm rocketing through me. My body clamps down on his fingers as more cream coats them.
He wants me like this, lost in the waves crashing through me, sprawled under him. He moves over me, the head of his cock nudging at my entrance, and I begin to chant.
"Please, please, please, Carter. Please. More. Everything." Oh, to give me everything.
He catches my hips, holds me still on the bed, and grabs his cock in his other hand. Pumping it a few times, he watches as my eyes follow that hand. Looking down as he presses into my entrance, he has to see us come together. He wants to see my swollen pink flesh give way for his invasion. My control is holding on by a thread, and then I whimper. He looks up at me see my need and slams home, sinking all the way in, burying himself as deep as he can go. I tense for a moment as I adjust. He's big, and it skirts the edge of pain but oh so much pleasure. He lets me catch my breath and then he leans down and draws my nipple into his mouth, sucking and biting it through the lace of the bra I never bothered to remove.
As he feels me relax, he begins to move. My nails are digging into his biceps as I cling to him, trying not to lose myself. The feel of him stretching me to my limits was a painful ecstasy. I hear a cry of both pleasure and pain come from me and I try to muffle it. He is biting and sucking at my breast as he pounds into me. I arch closer, lifting my legs, gripping with the silken stockings and digging my heels into his ass. I don't care, I just need him harder and deeper. He picks a driving pace, and all I can hear is our gasping breaths and the sounds of flesh against flesh. I feel my body tightening, and he growls as I clamp down on him.
I jerk and see a blinding light. I feel like my body is coming apart. Then I feel him stiffen and his voice is barely human sounding as he yells my name. We lay locked together for long moments as our hearts pound, little aftershocks rocking our bodies. His tongue keeps curling around my nipple, and I feel my body responding to it.
Slowly he pulls out and rolls to his back, dragging me over him. He kisses me with long drugging kisses, and I realize he is just getting started.
Chapter 10
I wake to an empty bed, and I feel a moment of longing before I shake it off. We have fucked like bunnies all night. I'm exhausted and sore, but as I stretch and feel my muscle ache, I grin like the Cheshire cat. Holy hell, it had been the stuff of dreams... No, fantasies, the ones that are dark, delicious and dangerous. I roll to my side and see something that makes my heart pound.
Ember
Work called. Enjoy your day. Tonight at 9. If you want.
C.
Do I want another night of mind blowing sex? Another night of tracing his tattoos with the tip of my tongue while he slowly slides in and out of me? Um, let me think, fuck yeah, I want. I push up and run my fingers over the ink. I stare at it. He is too good to be true. The unrealistic part of my brain is screaming keep him. Do whatever it takes to make him mine. The big girl that signed up for some fun is smacking her and telling her to shut the fuck up and just enjoy this last night. One more night and I'll have plenty of memories to get me through the long nights spent alone, just me and my toys. I chuckle. Hell yes, I will be touching myself to images of him for a very long time, like probably forever.
Walking into the bathroom, I stare at myself in the mirror. Who is the wild sex vixen? Teeth marks darken the skin over a lot of my body. Although I notice he made none where they would be seen once I was dressed. How considerate. I reach in to turn on the shower, waiting until steam fills the air. I feel different. He has changed me, like deep down. My hips roll when I walk, and I realize, at least for now, I feel sexy. This man has begun a change in me. I feel scared for a moment. I don't know this new me. I don't understand her needs or hunger. But then an image of his face, lost in passion, dances across my mind, and I realize I don't need to understand right now. I just need to feel. I stay in the shower for forty minutes, leaning my head against the wall, trying to get him out of my mind, my skin is bright pink which makes me think of last night. I'm trying hard not to be a complete girl and wonder if he is thinking of me too. I finally give up my endeavor of clearing my mind and step out. I grab one of the towels and remember I need to write a bit about the absolute decadence of the towels here. Wrapping it around my body, I walk into the bedroom, eyes furiously trying to look anywhere but the bed.
I decide to pick up a little, hating when I leave a mess for the maid. Besides, I need to make it look less like a wild night of sex. I stand in front of the wardrobe and decide what to wear. Today's adventures are a little out of the ordinary, so I decide on a cute pair of jeans, a top, and a light sweater. I finish
off with my favorite pair of teal Converse. I turn and survey the room before grabbing my dress pooled on the floor at the end of the bed. A shiver runs through my body as the sound of the zipper sliding slowly down plays through my mind. I hang the dress up, not sure I'll ever look at it the same. I know I can never wear it again on a date. It might be listed on Ebay as soon as I get home. Next, I see my bra laying on the floor by the bed and I bend down to pick it up. Moving to the end of the bed, I look for my underwear. I find the stockings that were removed late in the night. Those were hanging on the arm of the chair. At least they weren't over the lamp shade... That would have been so cliche. I laugh at myself. I look around, still not finding the panties. Finally, I get on my knees and look under the bed. Nothing. Standing with my hands on my hips, I frown, eyebrows drawn down. What the hell?
My phone chimes and I glance down at the alarm. Oh hell, I'll find them later. I have to get moving but I have just enough time to grab some breakfast. I race into the bathroom, quickly do very minimal make-up, and pull my wild hair up into a ponytail. I'm running out of the room, bag in hand, in five minutes. Thank goodness there is a cafe right next door. I race by the doorman, grinning as he quickly opens the door for me and waving at him as I go by.
A quick stop at the cafe for coffee and a pastry and I rush out to the curb and wave for a cab. My first stop of the day is at Les Catacombes. Valerie thinks I'm insane, but I'm so excited to do this tour. I love the history and the mystery that surrounds them. I love that they were started because Paris had begun to stink. More people were dying than they had places for. The tunnels below the city had been dug to give the people stones to build with. It was genius to move the dead down below, creating something amazing in the process. Macabre but amazing.
I stare out the window as the driver weaves in and out of traffic, the horn blaring occasionally as we make our way to the Catacombs. We arrive in, dare I say, record time, and I give him a big tip. I get a once over and a wink as a parting gift. Sometimes things like that bug me but not today. Today, I'm owning it. I walk to the ticket counter and wait in line, looking around enjoying the oldness of the place. My Granny always said I was an old soul and this old soul loved old things. Sometimes I feel lost in the technology of today. I love my blog, but I miss the days of sitting out on the porch beside the grownups. Listening to them gossip and tell each other the news of the day. Granny and Mom always had a pitcher of sweet tea and egg salad sandwiches and, if I was really lucky, a fresh loaf of banana bread. I'd sit on the swing and sway my legs, keeping the motion going slowly in the hazy afternoon heat of summer. Granny and Mom learned every bit of news our little town had to give on that front porch. We hear about the places people had traveled and who they'd seen. We never went anywhere, but I traveled there curled up on Granny's quilts. Those afternoons built the world in my mind. Daddy bought me a world map, and I'd put in a pin in every place people went to. Thinking about it now, it seems crazy. Every little pin was no farther than New York City but to me, stuck in Georgia, it seemed like another planet.
I remember when Roger Morrison's momma came and told us he was back from the military. I couldn't wait to talk to him. I was eleven and I jumped right on my Huffy and rode, like something was chasing me, right to their house. I rushed to the door and pounded on it like the police. When he opened that door, his face lit up with surprise when he saw me. Freckles, braces, and a sunburn grinning up at him, begging him to tell me all about the places he had been, the things he had seen.
By the end of the summer, my eleven year old heart had a crush on the boy who sat with me one afternoon a week and told me everything. He brought out things he had collected and even let me have a few. Unfortunately, it led to heartache when he left again in the fall. He wrote me a few times and sent things from faraway places. He said once that he was looking for home, for a place that settled his soul. I understand that.
I moved away from that little town, a whole hour away to another small town. I went to a small college and got a job. Then I started my blog. I dedicated it to all those people that open my world when I was little. I worked to travel. The places I traveled to are places I had pins for. Places that weren't hugely popular nowadays. I wrote about those places, and I tried to build the pictures for others like I had on those afternoons on the porch.
It was that picture painting that got me here, one little blog post about my trip to Hot Springs, Arkansas. It was a place that had sounded so amazing when the Smiths had gone when I was a kid. I splurged and stayed at a beautiful B&B right by the lake. That's how it all started. They shared my blog post and then so did the town. Before I knew it, I had gone viral. I don't know what about that post appealed to people, but it did, and then I got an offer from a hotel in California. Soon more offers came in, and here I am today -- five million followers and offers from all over the world.
"Mademoiselle?" A sweet perky voice pulls my attention back to the present. "Ticket, s'il vous plaît."
"Oh, yes, sorry. I have it here on my phone." I turn the e-ticket to her to scan. She looks at her screen and then she grins up at me. I smile back, a tiny bit confused by her excitement.
"Oh, you are the writer. The one that travels."
I feel my eyes widen and I blush, "Yes, how did you know?"
"Oh, the hotel made sure that you have the best of everything."
"Please, don't bother. I can go with the rest of the group. Nothing special." People are looking at me and wondering if I'm someone important. I shake my head slightly, trying to let them know that I am not.
Her shoulders slump, and I feel guilty. "You know what, whatever you have planned is perfect." She perks up instantly.
The tour was wonderful, both gruesome and beautiful at the same time. The catacombs are an extraordinary blend of life and death. My guide was knowledgeable and answered every question I could come up with, so generous with his time, in fact, we went way over. Luckily, I happened to look at my phone or I would have missed my next adventure. Thanking him profusely, I run for the curb waving like a lunatic for a taxi.
Chapter 11
I'm pacing around the client's office at his home. Last night while I had been buried in Ember, someone had been breaking onto the grounds. We know because the children's dog had been killed, gutted and left where they would find it. Luckily, it had been the nanny who had gone out looking for the poor dog in the middle of the night. Her scream had alerted the security. The poor girl is currently huddled on her bed, flanked on either side by the children she cares for. The family is packing. And I am on the phone with my men. Men I went to war with, men from elite fighting forces around the world. I trust them with my own life, and I know they will protect those I am sending to them. I'm thankful for Jacques. He's from France and lives here when he isn't traveling. It is his home that I'm sending them to. The other members made their way here after the morning meeting yesterday and were all standing by at their hotels. I sent out a text when the call came in this morning, so they have made their way to the house. I hang up and then call Mallory. She had gone to a hotel when she arrived. With the right wig and clothes, she will pass for the wife.
"Yeah." Her reply exactly what I would expect from her. Mallory fought long and hard to get the respect of all the men she fought beside. She proved herself long ago. She is death wrapped in a beautiful package. They never see her coming, which is why I'm calling. I had her on stand by just in case things took a turn. She is already here in the city.
"It's time. Be here ASAP." That's is all she needs to know.
"On my way. I already have everything together. The pictures helped." I can hear her grabbing her things even as she talks to me.
"The car is waiting downstairs." I hang up, turning as I hear a noise. Pierre St Luc stands looking at me, anger stamped on his arrogant face.
"Well! So much for you keeping my family safe. They killed my kids' fucking dog, gutted it in their playhouse. Poor Chloe will never be the same. How did they get in here?" Spittl
e flies from his mouth as he yells.
"I don't know. From everything you showed me and my meeting with your personal staff, they shouldn't have been able to get past the security you have in place here. I feel this was done to get you to run. To force you from this place. But their mistake is they have no idea about me or my men." My voice is even, and I watch as he collapses in on himself, the bravado fading.
"What if..." I slash my hand through the air stopping him.
"Don't; it won't help. I'm moving your family to our safe house. It is a fortress, and three of my best men are there waiting for them. Unfortunately, we are going to move them in a veterinarian van. I plan to make it look as if they came for the dog's body and sneak everyone in. Mallory will take your wife's place, but you have to stay. You MUST continue as if you are unafraid. You must trust me to protect those in my care."