A Lover's Dream

by Altonya Washington

  “I know,” was all Driggers said.

  The simple acknowledgment made Mick all the more happy to be home. Driggers promised a freshly made bed, hot tea, and pastry waiting inside. Mick eagerly allowed herself to be led to relaxation.

  By the next day, Mick was back to her old self and in need of a workout. She contacted the girls, who practically screamed the phone to pieces at the news of her return. They had two months before the season began and they had a lot of rehearsing to do if their most ambitious routine yet was to be all it could be. Mick discovered that the girls had not grown lazy during her absence. They’d been practicing hard, and it showed. Mick decided to keep her instructor’s cap off that day and enjoy the dance.

  As promised, Driggers kept Quest informed and was leading him into the house the following afternoon. Mick and the girls had gotten a late start that warm July day, but were in the throes of the routine by the time Quest had arrived. Driggers was full of mischief and had the unexpected guest wait in the den. The room just happened to offer the perfect view of the immaculate back lawn where the rehearsals were held. Driggers knew Mick would kill him for letting anyone—especially another man—gawk at the group. But, Driggers thought, well…he was an old man and he could get away with it.

  “Have a seat, son, and try to stay calm,” Driggers advised, smirking when the young man fixed him with a confused smile.

  It wasn’t long before Quest’s ears caught the sound of hard bass under voices rapping out a popular old school single. He was thankful Driggers suggested he sit, or his legs threatened to give beneath him at the sight before his eyes. The sight of the twenty-one beauties on the lawn, all moving in erotic sync to the music, was enough to make any man stare in awe. While they were all luscious, Quest’s eyes were riveted on the most luscious of all. He’d known she had curves, but seeing them so deliciously encased in hip-hugging camouflage boy shorts with a matching tank top and her thick black curls haphazardly twisted in a camouflage bandana drove the fact home. The vision of her enflamed his hormones so quickly, his shaft lengthened, swelled, and hardened to a most uncomfortable state. He whispered a curse just as Driggers returned to the room with a chilled mug of beer.

  “Thought you might need this,” Driggers said, setting the mug on the glass table flanking the armchair.

  “What is this?” Quest barely breathed, nodding toward the backyard.

  “Mick took the girls under her wing a few years ago. Dancers for the band at her college alma mater. I think she needs them now just as much as they need her.” He slapped Quest’s shoulder. “Enjoy the show.”

  And Quest did just that. Erotic was a nice beginning to describe the routine that promised to have every man who saw it in the same state that he was. A smile crossed his handsome face as he thought of his brother. Quay would surely kick himself for missing such a treat.

  Quest’s intense gray-black stare was riveted on Michaela as he followed her every move. At times, he went as far as to tilt his head to enjoy every twist of her limber, curvaceous figure. When the routine ended, he had managed to quell his raging hormones so that he’d be presentable when the rush of women filled the room.

  “Good work, ladies! Good work!” Mick congratulated the troupe as they headed toward the house. “I’m happy to see you haven’t let all my hard work go to waste!”

  The girls filed into the den, but slowed just after stepping past the sliding glass doors. It took Mick a moment to realize the group had stopped dead in their tracks.

  “Hello!” she called, her steps hindered by the motionless bodies. “Hello?” she called again, squeezing between the girls. “What are y’all doin’?” she said, noticing all heads turned toward the far right corner of the room.

  The girls’ eyes were focused on the beautiful molasses-dipped male who stood there. When Mick saw the cause of all the stunned gazes, she too was mesmerized.

  “Ladies,” Quest greeted softly. His eyes moved to rest on Michaela. Slowly, they raked her body as though he were stripping away each garment as he went.

  The girls glanced at Mick, envying her power over the dark god who watched her so intently.

  Mick slowly regained her senses and nodded toward the doorway leading out of the den. “Showers,” she instructed softly. “Showers. Now,” she said again, managing only minimal firmness to her voice.

  When the last girl left the room, Quest closed the distance between himself and Mick. His mouth came crashing down on hers, his arms enveloping her in an unbreakable hold. Mick moaned against the powerful thrust of his tongue, but matched it with a fire of her own. She arched and angled her neck, frantically kissing him as she reached for a remote on the oak shelves. One click activated the panel, which slid in place across the doorway, bathing the room in privacy.

  Quest lifted her effortlessly against his tall, muscular frame and carried her to the futon in the farthest corner of the room. He stood there for a moment, savoring the deep hot lunges of her tongue as she kissed him as though she were starved for his taste. He angled his foot beneath the edge of the futon and pulled it into a flat position. Gently, he placed Mick on the olive-green cushioned liner.

  Soft moans and ragged groans filled the room as Quest made quick work of Mick’s clothing. He had her nude in minutes. She was in heaven, her sighs and moans of encouragement giving him permission to do with her as he pleased. His handsome face was shielded by the lush mounds of her breasts as his tongue trailed the chocolate orbs before his teeth grazed a nipple, then soothed it with his lips.

  Mick felt powerless to do anything other than curve more of her body closer to his mouth. Her arms lay weakly above her head, when his tongue outlined one nipple before suckling it madly. Not to ignore the other, he squeezed it with his fingers and caressed it to a throbbing bud.

  Mick thought she’d lose her mind in a whirlwind of sensation. Quest’s mouth was everywhere: tonguing her belly button, lavishing her thighs with moist kisses while his mouth nudged the light smattering of black curls at the joining of her legs.

  Then, unbelievably, the kisses just stopped. Quest rested his head on her hip and inhaled deeply. Mick thought that it reminded her of that night—the night when things went haywire….

  At last, he raised his head and covered her nude form with his fully clothed one. “I can’t take you this way,” he said.

  “Yes, you can,” Mick blurted, small fists curled against the front of his white T-shirt. Her body was set aflame by his touch—a flame only he could extinguish.

  “I can’t,” Quest decided, squeezing his eyes shut to take his mind off how good she felt beneath him. “Not with a house full of people, on a futon in your den.” He pushed the curls from her forehead and kissed the tip of her nose. “It’s tempting and an encounter I intend to fulfill one day. But not the first day, not the first time.”

  Torn between her desire for him and her appreciation for his concern, she rolled her eyes and steeled herself from begging him to reconsider.

  “I want you to get dressed,” he whispered, brushing his thumb across the curve of her cheek. “I’m taking you somewhere else.”

  “Why?” Mick blurted again. She had to know. “Why are you doing this? Why does it matter to you where or how?”

  Quest grinned, his gorgeous left-dimpled smile. He appraised her expressive, incredible eyes and that mouth…the curls that framed her face so sweetly…he adored everything about her. Bringing his lips within a hairbreadth of hers, he whispered, “It matters because I love you.”

  Chapter 11

  Mick had ordered her legs to pick up the pace earlier when she headed upstairs to pack for the impromptu getaway. But her legs felt like syrup—all warm and oozy. She was in a dream, a lover’s dream, and never wanted to awaken.

  He’s not your lover yet, girl, a voice reminded her. Still, he loved her. He’d said it clearly and she had remained speechless. But he didn’t seem to mind. Now her brows tugged close and she bit down on her lip debating the concern that had su
ddenly surfaced. Slowly, she turned to face him across the gear console of the Expedition.

  “Tell me,” Quest said, knowing she was watching him with a question in her eyes.

  Mick’s gaze faltered upon hesitation. She cleared her throat and pushed unease from her voice. “Are you doing this because of the investigation? Do you want me to reconsider?”

  “Investigation, book, radio broadcast, Internet, or TV movie, I don’t care,” he replied flatly, his gray stare never veering from the road. “This doesn’t have a thing to do with that,” he told her. “You can ask me whatever you like,” he said when she started to turn away. “I’ll tell you whatever you want to know.”

  Mick pressed her lips together and nodded.

  Quest reclined a bit more in the driver’s seat. “But I’ll tell you later,” he said. “Much, much later.”

  When they arrived at a cabin located right on the river, Mick was again stunned. Close your mouth, girl, she told herself. She didn’t wait for Quest to open her doors, but eased out of the SUV as though her feet were about to touch sacred ground.

  The cabin was a rustic masterpiece surrounded by towering pines and spruce trees. The river it sat next to mingled the sound of trickling water with birdsong and the gentle sway of leaves and tree limbs against a cool breeze.

  “Quest,” she breathed, her amber gaze sparkling as she surveyed the scene, “when did you plan this?”

  Quest grinned, reaching into the rear of the vehicle to collect their bags. “I wanted you to think I just snapped my fingers and all of this fell into place.”

  Mick pushed one hand into the back pocket of her jeans. “I guess it wasn’t like that, huh?” she teased.

  “The cabin’s mine. I usually stay here when I have business in Chicago for an extended period of time. I’ve got my own houseman who stops by to check on things,” he shared, shutting the rear door on the storage compartment. “The place is always ready for a sudden visit.”

  “Mmm, convenient,” Mick said, tugging on the lemon-, white-, and blue-striped crew-neck sweater she wore. “It must come in handy with all the women you woo,” she noted softly and walked on ahead having no idea how her tease had affected Quest. She stood on the massive porch toying with the cropped hem of her top while waiting for him to unlock the door.

  Surprising her, Quest took her by the arm and turned her back against the door. “I’ve never brought anyone here. Anyone, Michaela. No family and no other woman.”

  Mick could only nod, thoroughly off-kilter by the serious tone of his voice and the intensity in the gray of his eyes. She waited, her back still against the door, as he unlocked it and pushed it open. She backed into the magnificent dwelling. Her nostrils instantly flared in response to the crisp, masculine scent of spice and wood. She watched Quest relieve himself of their luggage, which he’d carried in all at once. Slowly, her gaze shifted to assess her environment.

  The masculine presence of the two-story cabin was real and heady. Everything was oversized and comfortable. The dwelling was crafted for relaxation, and Mick couldn’t help but feel a bit like a maiden in the lair of a seductive pirate. She almost burst into laughter and turned to Quest again.

  Any words she would have uttered were silenced as his mouth lowered to slant across hers. She moaned when his tongue took swift possession, thrusting powerfully before softly stroking the roof of her mouth and ridge of her teeth with subtle mastery. Of course, the same starving quality of his kiss was sweetly present and Mick drank him in hungrily. She scarcely noticed when he lifted her against him and carried her up the stairway that was covered by a carpet bearing distinct Native American markings.

  Mick heard another door open and realized she was in the bedroom. Pirate’s lair indeed, she thought when Quest let her ease down the length of his body. The room seemed to be fashioned around the bed. And what a bed it was—a round sea of black satin linens littered with round burgundy pillows. Rich maple casing constructed the surrounding headboard, which housed small speakers and electric candlelights all around.

  “Quest—”

  “Shh,” he urged, his perfect teeth nipping at the silky line of her jaw.

  “But I have to tell you—”

  “Later,” he decided, dipping his thumb into her belly button, left exposed by the cropped hem of her top.

  Mick gasped when he rotated the tip of his thumb there in the same manner his tongue was encircling her earlobe. She succumbed to the expertise he possessed.

  Quest loved her with his hands first, peeling away her top, slipping her out of the lacy bra a second later. His mouth captured hers in a kiss that was the perfect mixture of sweetness and desire. He unfastened and tugged the jeans past her hips and over the full curve of her bottom, dropping to his knees as he removed them with her socks and sneakers.

  He literally kissed her out of her panties, his sensuous lips trailing the lacy fabric of the garment. The tip of his tongue disappeared intermittedly beneath, tracing the skin there briefly before his teeth tugged the panties down. Mick could do little else than gasp and grasp his shoulders for support until he rose and carried her to the center of his magnificent bed where he pleasured her all over again.

  Michaela enjoyed every moment, but soon her hands greedily sought to feel the devastating hardness lying beneath the softness of his sweatpants. Quest didn’t want to lose his clothes just then. He knew if he felt her silken chocolate form against his skin, “going slow” would be a hollow intention.

  “Quest, please,” she whispered, shaking her head against the pillows.

  “I will,” he promised with a soft chuckle. His fingers began to tease her shamelessly. He suckled her earlobe while fondling her breasts, taking turns manipulating the nipples into firm jewels. Low moans rose from his throat as he lost himself in the feel of her skin responding to his touch.

  Mick arched against him, uttering a cry of disagreement when his fingers moved on past her breasts, dipping once more into her belly button before immersing themselves in the silky black curls shielding her womanhood. He massaged the velvety petals there with his thumbs, his middle finger smoothly delving ever so lightly inside the waiting pool of creamy moisture.

  Quest was so in tune to her every reaction that he felt her tense when he touched her there. “Relax,” he whispered while brushing a sweet kiss across her cheek.

  “Quest—” she called again, just before his mouth swooped down to capture hers again.

  Mick gave up trying to communicate verbally and lost herself in the pleasure of his touch. She kissed him shamelessly, then found his neck and jaw to be the most delectable targets for the nips she applied there.

  He could barely stand the exquisite torture she so gently provided. To pacify himself, he settled his fully clothed form between her thighs and began to grind himself against the luscious center of her body, still wet from his earlier attention and her own need.

  Michaela cried out at the power raging beneath the front of his sweats. “Quest—” she tried to speak again, and again he silenced her. He placed her arms above her head and held them there while lowering his mouth to feast on her breasts once more.

  Tiny, indecipherable sounds fluttered past her lips, so incredible was the sensation of his mouth against her breasts. His lips outlined the rigid nipples before repeating the gesture with his tongue. He paid the same attention to every other part of her body, burying his handsome face between her thighs as his tongue delved into the center of her body. He thrust hungrily, his massive hands curved beneath her derriere to hold her in place. Mick felt completely weak as the unspeakable pleasure overwhelmed her and her thighs quivered uncontrollably. When Quest drove his tongue deep inside her, the inner walls of her sex contracted fiercely.

  A low chuckle swelled inside his chest when he felt her reaction. He knew she was more than ready and very satisfied. He broke the intimate kiss and rose above her, watching the beautiful picture she made writhing on his bed in the midst of her second orgasm. He stripped
the T-shirt from his back and went to work on the rest of his clothes. At last, he was gloriously nude.

  Michaela marveled in his dark beauty, splaying her hands across the chiseled expanse of his chest. The rigid muscles of his arms and abdomen were both extraordinary and sensual in appearance. She moved lower until her fingers grazed his arousal. Her hand cupped the steel power that had ground against her only moments before. Her lashes fluttered as she realized the extent of the breathtaking length and girth of the organ. It was impossible to close her hand around it. Biting her lower lip, she swallowed.

  “Quest—”

  He silenced her this time with his index finger, slipping it past her lips to massage her tongue. Mick responded with all the zeal of a woman gone mad with desire as she suckled his finger. Quest alternated with his finger and tongue inside her mouth while he reached for protection from a tiny drawer inside the maple casing surrounding the bed. In moments, he had it in place and settled himself against her once more before plunging forward.

  A tiny shriek escaped Michaela’s lips and Quest went completely still, but for snapping his head up. He fixed her with an incredulous look.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” he whispered, placing his weight on his forearms, hoping not to apply any more pressure to her bruised maidenhead.

  Mick gasped. “I tried,” she said, feeling as if she were being ripped apart in the midst of an erotic massage.

  Quest’s deep-set eyes, once darkened with passion, were now wrought with uncertainly. “I don’t want to hurt you,” he said.

  Mick managed a saucy smile. “From what I understand, it can’t be helped. Just make it fast.”

  Quest wasted no more time with words and curved his hands around her thighs to move them far away from his hips. He buried his face in her neck and plundered past the barrier of delicate tissue. Mick’s agonizing cry faded on a low moan as the pain disappeared and was replaced by the most fascinating sensation. That sensation spoke to her hips, invoking them to move in an age-old rhythm that drew sounds of fulfillment from both her and Quest.