They both were awakened to the sound of Brea’s cell phone shrilling. She had decided that she’d just let her voicemail take the message. But whoever the caller was was very insistent and the calls continued. Eventually, with regret, Brea fell out of bed and half crawled to the living room where she’d left her cell phone in her purse. She sat on the floor, still too sleepy to take notice of her nudity.
“What?” she said angrily into the phone.
“Oh, Brea, that’s no way to answer the phone,” Lindie’s cheerful voice piped up.
“Lindie, what do you want this early in the morning?” Brea growled.
“Early? It’s one in the afternoon. What have you been—Oh my God, Brea, are you alone?” Lindie’s voice took on that high-pitched nosey tone that Brea could usually ignore—usually.
“Lindie, why are you calling?” Brea tried to switch the conversation. “I thought all bets were off until your grandwitch left.”
“Brea, that’s not nice.” Lindie’s voice became muffled and she knew Lindie was covering the phone. No doubt the aforementioned just entered the room. Brea rolled her eyes as several seconds passed before Lindie continued in hushed tones. “I went out for coffee this morning and thought to drop you a cup, you know as an ‘I’m sorry’ but they wouldn’t let me in. Why didn’t you tell me your building had a fire?” Lindie sounded hurt.
Of course, since Lindie couldn’t improve her situation she saw no reason to call her. She’d been meaning to get around to calling her, but Jordan had… Her shoulder was being nibbled. She closed her eyes. He was insatiable and obviously so was she, if she kept responding to him. She hadn’t even heard him come into the room.
“I—I didn’t want to worry you.” It took her a second to remember what Lindie had said.
Jordan began tugging at her, so that now, she was on all fours—well threes, because she had to keep the phone to her ear. Brea’s heart hammered in her chest as he reached his hand around and began to rub her. Her ass was nestling his cock. She looked over her shoulder and mouthed “What are you doing?”, though she knew exactly what and made no move to stop him.
“But I’m your best friend, I’m going to worry anyway,” Lindie whined.
Jordan mouthed back one word—penetration. Brea’s heart stuttered as she watched Jordan over her shoulder take his erection in his hand and thrust it into her. Before she could stop herself, she gasped.
“What was that?” Lindie asked. “I didn’t get all of that.”
Brea’s mind worked at a feverish pace to continue the conversation despite what Jordan was doing to her. In other words she was trying to chew gum and back flip at the same time. “I—I said it’s only temporary,” Brea got out.
Jordan had her by the hips, pushed deeply into her and pulled out almost to his tip only to thrust back even deeper. Brea squeezed her eyes shut at the pleasure. He hunched over her and began to fondle a breast with one hand, tweaking her nipples.
“Are you okay? You sound sick.” Lindie’s voice dropped again. “Hold on.” Lindie began talking to her grandmother in the background.
Brea collapsed to her elbows, the phone still at her ear. She looked at it and clicked mute. “Jordan—you—you can’t do this right now.” She moaned as she pushed back against him. “Let me hang up from Lindie,” she pleaded as his thrusts increased and he played with her clit.
“Stay on the phone,” he ordered.
“B—but I can’t concentrate.” Even now she couldn’t concentrate on their conversation.
“Come on now, Brea…” he said between thrusts. “Play this game with me, you’ll like it. It’ll make you come harder. I promise.” There was no mistaking the wickedness to his tone. Brea found herself intrigued. Could she carry on a perfectly normal conversation while in the throes of passion? She really didn’t have a choice as Lindie got back on the line. She clicked off the mute button and put the phone to her ear.
“I’m still here,” she said as clearly as she could. Jordan pulled out of her, and bade her to lie on her back and spread her legs for him. Obediently she complied. “What is it, Lindie?” she asked on a sigh as Jordan entered her.
“My grandmother is driving me crazy,” she said into the phone conspiratorially.
Jordan began with a slow rhythm, his golden hair fell about his face, as his eyes stared into hers. Brea reached one hand out, the feel of his chest intoxicating under her fingers. “Get rid of her,” Brea clipped as Jordan latched on to her breast. He sucked it hard, causing her back to arch off the floor.
“I can’t, she’s not scheduled to leave for two days. Two whole freaking days!” Lindie shouted into the phone before she caught herself.
Jordan began pounding into her at a faster rhythm. His thrusts became more powerful. He seemed to swell even more inside of her. Brea felt so full, she didn’t know if she could take anymore. His thrusts were so deliciously deep and hard. “That’s so hard,” she said into the phone while looking at Jordan. He gave her a sexy, arrogant smile.
“I know,” Lindie responded. “But she is my grandmother, and God knows she won’t be alive forever.” The irritation seemed to be leaving Lindie’s voice. “It’s just two more days, I can do this,” Lindie said with shaky confidence. “I can do this, right, Brea?”
Jordan’s breathing was erratic and Brea could tell he was about to orgasm. But he would be one step behind her, she felt her very soul in the orgasm that rocked her. “Oh yes!” she screamed into the phone. “Oh God yes!” Her voice dropped a level as the pleasure traveled to every part of her body.
“You’re right!” Lindie tried to match her tone to Brea’s enthusiastic one. “Thanks, Brea, I’ll call you.” The line clicked.
Brea looked at Jordan as his face contorted in pleasure. He pulled out of her, and Brea watched in fascination as ribbons of his seed splashed across her belly. It was hot as it landed on her flushed skin. It was one of the most erotic things she’d ever seen. He was definitely branding her with his influence.
Keeping himself braced above her, he grinned, those gorgeous dimples popping out. “Good afternoon, Miss Saunders.”
“I thought you said no penetration,” she reminded him, snapping her phone shut.
“Are you accusing me of not being a man of my word?” he said in mock hurt.
“Well, I felt some definite penetration,” Brea said, looking around, whistling.
“Yes, that rule was for last night, this is the next day,” he corrected her. “And to further defend my reputation—” he went down on his elbows, his lips touching hers as he spoke, “—did you or did you not come harder?” he asked as he kissed her lightly.
Brea never answered him; instead she wrapped her arms around him and pulled him into a deeper kiss, which was a good enough answer for him.
Twenty-One: In time all is revealed…
“They have been locked inside of his condo for more than three days,” Psyche complained to Eris. “What could they possibly be doing for three days?!” Eris rolled her eyes at Psyche before adding another layer of black lacquer to her nails. “Okay, so I know what they’re doing, but sons of Zeus, three days!!” She plopped onto the couch, proper posture totally forgotten. She and Eris had gotten into the habit of meeting in the lounging hall at Mount Olympus. It was rarely used since none of the gods wanted to socialize with one another.
Eris paused in her grooming, setting the brush back in the bottle and scooted back far enough from the table to cross her legs. She hugged her knees delicately, her instantly dry nails in no danger of becoming smudged. “He is the god of desire, so therefore it stands to reason three days of sex would be nothing to him. Furthermore, your whining hasn’t gotten us anywhere in the past three days.” Psyche sat up straight, defensive.
“Me? If you would have done the job I commissioned you for the first time, I wouldn’t be whining. Every plan you’ve had so far has failed. I think a little of my whining is in order. After all it’s my husband who’s off sleeping with a mortal!”<
br />
“Ex,” Eris drawled, picking at imaginary lint on her Egyptian cotton black pants.
“That’s a technicality and you know it!” Psyche snapped at her, then took a deep breath before she started again. “Look, he has a little over a week left. Maybe when he loses his immortality he’ll come back to me,” Psyche said hopefully.
Eris gave her a look of pure disgust. “So you’ve reduced yourself to the consolation prize? Ugh!” Eris affected a shiver. “I thought you had more fight than that in you. Oh well, it looks like I’m no longer needed here, since you’ve settled—er, I mean, solved your dilemma.” Eris stood, dramatically taking her leave.
“Wait, what about that other thing?” Psyche asked, seeming unsure if she should voice it aloud.
“What other thing?” Eris feigned confusion.
“That thing we talked about at the restaurant the other night. You know, about just killing her.” Psyche looked suspiciously around the room as if someone could hear her.
“Oh, that thing. Well, that’s a foolproof plan if I ever heard one. There’s no coming back from dead.” She looked at Psyche “Have you ever killed anyone?”
“No,” Psyche said quickly, then smiled crookedly. “But there’s a first time for everything.”
Arachne, now recovered, listened intently to the two women conniving. She spun a web of memory, recording every detail in her intricate design. When they were done, Arachne gathered the web for transport, then shimmered out of her well-hidden space, and headed straight for Hermes.
“I really have had enough of fast food.” Brea rolled over and groaned, as Cupid proposed they order in—again. They’d been having food delivered for the past three days. Neither one of them had wanted to leave the bed. Not that their lovemaking was solely restricted to the bed, it was the only place to comfortably sleep.
Brea stretched, feeling like Play-Doh, as Cupid had bent, folded and held her in positions she didn’t think were humanly possible as he made love to her. She wasn’t complaining. There seemed no end to his imagination, or his ardor for that matter.
“Are you suggesting—” he gasped in mock drama “—that we venture outside of the bed? Outside of the home?” He clutched at his chest as if he were having a coronary.
“I’m saying unless you want a pleasantly plump girlfriend, we need to expend energy doing more than, well, what we’ve been doing.” She grinned wickedly, scooting over and laying her head on his chest.
“I like plump,” he said simply, trying to sit up to grab one of the many menus on the floor. Brea pushed down his half-hearted attempt at rising.
“I don’t. So I have first dibs on the shower and you can figure out where we’re going.” She sat up and kissed him on the nose before shimmying seductively to the bathroom and closing the door.
Cupid was sure he had the stupidest grin ever on his face. The last days with Brea had been wonderful. Aside from the physical bonding, he’d gotten to know her quite well. They stayed up well into the night talking or debating. She even blew off Lindie to spend time with him. He was ecstatic. He tried to think of where to take her to grab a bite to eat, but his brain wouldn’t cooperate.
Guilt ate at him. Made a meal of him if he were honest. He’d pursued her originally to simply keep his immortality. Now he cared for her. He loved her. He finally admitted it to himself; he was in love with a mortal. This was different than what he had with Psyche; he knew Brea. Liked her personality—no, loved her personality.
Asking her to marry him now seemed wrong. There was no disputing the fact that he wanted to keep his abilities, wanted to keep his immortality. He wanted to keep Brea as well. He never thought he’d wind up in such a fix. But it had to be done. He had to get her to marry him. A niggling in his brain told him Hermes was trying to summon him.
He listened and heard the shower still going. He donned her large fluffy robe then went out to the living room. He let Hermes know it was okay to come. In a second, Hermes was standing next to the window as if he’d been there the whole time.
“What is it?” Cupid asked, preoccupied with his former thoughts.
“Arachne has some interesting—” Hermes stopped, scowled, then burst into laughter as he looked at Cupid. “What in Hades are you wearing?” he laughed, as he looked at Cupid in the plush pink robe.
“Are you done yet?” Cupid gave his friend an irritated glare. On the third attempt Hermes stopped laughing.
“As I was saying, Arachne came across some interesting news. You’ve been cooped up here the last few days. I haven’t been able to tell you the other news first.”
“What other news? Arachne found out what?” Cupid was all ears.
“Eris,” Hermes said. “Eris is helping Psyche.”
“We should have guessed.” He shook his head. “What about the news Arachne has?”
“Apparently your ex-wife is planning on killing your future wife,” Hermes said gravely, all humor aside. There was nothing amusing about a disgruntled immortal bent on killing.
“What?!” Alarm sliced through Cupid’s heart at the thought of any harm coming to Brea.
Hermes gave Cupid the short version of the recording he had taken from Arachne’s web. Cupid’s face was contorted in anger. He wished he had his blonde, crazy ex-wife in his sights right now so he could strangle the life out of her. That is if she were able to die.
“Did they say when they plan on doing this?” Cupid asked, hearing the shower shut off.
“No, but soon. You don’t have a lot of time left. If I were you I wouldn’t let her out of my sight.” Then Hermes was gone before Brea padded into the room with a towel wrapped around her.
“Are you talking to yourself?” she asked drying her hair with a smaller towel.
Cupid turned around and pulled her into his arms and held her tightly. Brea, taken by surprise, allowed the hug and hugged him back as well. “No, I was not talking to myself. I was thinking about where we should go to eat,” he said at last, finally relaxing the hug. It wasn’t a lie, he had been talking to Hermes and he did think about where to take her to eat.
“And what did you come up with it?” she asked sweetly, laying her wet hair against his chest.
“It’s a surprise. Get dressed. I need to call in a favor.” He swatted her on the butt and when he was sure she was out of earshot, he called to Dionysus.
“Okay, I’m ready.” Brea buckled the last strap on her heels and stood, smoothing what little material there was of her dress. When Jordan had first picked up the sexy red number and winked at her, she’d rolled her eyes at him and reminded him that their relationship was strictly business and he would never see her in it. Jordan had winked again and given it to the saleslady for purchase. She didn’t care if he gloated; she looked good as hell in it.
“Give me five minutes,” he called to her as he whisked past her to the bathroom. Brea took the time to appreciate his form before the door closed. His body was perfect, though the scars on his back didn’t bother her, they did seem like rather odd birthmarks. Aside from the tattoo on each wrist, he had no other markings. He was just a tall, muscular dollop of ooh-yummy-yummy!
Brea checked her reflection in the hand mirror Jordan had bought from one of the boutiques. Her cheeks were flushed and dare she say it, her eyes held real joy. She looked like a well-satisfied woman. Already she felt a bond with Jordan that seemed to go much deeper than what she’d had with Terry. Even just mentioning Terry’s name brought her no more pain, he was just a bookmark in a bad chapter of her life.
She had no idea where things were going with Jordan. She’d didn’t want to speculate or over think anything. There was no denying that he did something to her, he weakened her at the same time he seemed to make her stronger. But she loved him. It was a good thing she was next to the bed when she dropped the mirror. It landed with a soft thud. However her revelation crashed into her head.
She couldn’t love Jordan! She hardly knew him! Oh, of course she knew him well in the biblical s
ense, and yes, they had talked through the nights, but she didn’t know him. She didn’t know where he was born, or even what his mother’s name was. But as corny as it sounded in her mind, she felt like she knew his soul.
Jordan came out of the bathroom, unabashedly displaying his perfectly tanned body. “You sure I can’t interest you in staying in another night?” He leaned against the doorframe of the bathroom, looking like sin in the flesh. But Brea wanted this night out. She needed to be able to talk to him without getting distracted by his touch.
“Get dressed, Cupid, we’re going out,” she said with a firm smile. Brea wasn’t sure if it was her imagination but he seemed to pale at her words.
“What did you call me?” he asked, standing up straight.
“Oh, you don’t like that name? How about Romeo, Lothario, Casanova, take your pick. But you are not seducing me into staying here, as tempting as you are. Get dressed,” she ordered again, grabbing her lipstick and heading to the bathroom to apply it.
“They’re amateurs,” he called to her after she was in the bathroom.
“Yeah, well at least they’re dressed,” Brea called back, laughing.
It was so easy with him. So easy to talk to him, to laugh with him. Even arguing with him was a rush. She pressed her lips together, coating them evenly with the lipstick, then smiled. He made her do that a lot. He was sooo far under her skin. Brea knew that if he hurt her again, she might not recover from it.
“Are you ready?” he called as if he’d been waiting on her forever.
Brea came out of the bathroom to see him not only dressed, but perfectly groomed. She’d never seen a man get ready so quickly—that is, if he weren’t just sliding on jogging pants and a T-shirt. Jordan was dressed in a black, simple, long-sleeve silk shirt and casual black pants. He, however, made it look as if it were the hottest new look of the year.
“You clean up quickly,” Brea remarked.
“So do you, and by the way, Miss Saunders, you look ravishing in that particular dress you swore I would never see you in.” Jordan caressed her bottom as she preceded him out of the bedroom. “I can’t wait to see you out of it.” Despite his roundabout gloating, Brea laughed.
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