by Flynn, Mac
Alma glanced between his kind face and the darkness behind him. If she wanted to avoid a nasty night of sleeping outside, she didn't have much of a choice. "I guess, if you think he won't mind me being here."
A smile lit up Amor's face and he stepped up to her. He lifted his bent arm for her to take. "Not at all."
Alma smiled back and took his offered arm. He led her to the door, which he deftly unlocked with his own key, and let them both inside. Even in the dark the shelves full of their sweets were inviting, particularly with the smells that wafted from their wrappers and boxes. Amor guided them around the counter and into the familiar hall. Outwardly she was nervous, but inwardly she was curious to see the back end to such a marvelous sweet shop. They rounded the corner at the far end and she had her first glimpse of the kitchen. There was nothing there. No ovens, no sinks, no dishwashers, nothing. There were only cupboards without doors, pipes and outlets sticking out of the ground and walls where there should have been appliances, and empty holes in the counter tops where there should have been sinks.
Alma was so surprised that she stopped and gazed, open-mouthed, at the ruin that was a kitchen. Amor noticed her lagging behind and turned. "Something wrong?" he asked her.
She gestured to the room. "This place...is this really where he makes all that stuff out front?"
Amor shrugged. "Not really. This is only a ruse to fool curiosity-seekers. He has other ways of making all that stuff out there. Less talk about that now, though, and more on the fact that you're dripping all over the clean floor." He nodded at the linoleum beneath her feet and Alma glanced down to see a puddle form beneath her.
She blushed and he smiled at the warm glow on her cheeks. "Oh, sorry," she mumbled, and hurried to catch up to him.
Amor led her to a staircase at the far back corner of the room that led upstairs. The steps led up to a large, warm, bright living room with a kitchen beyond, and Alma felt a rush of warm air soothe her cold, wet skin. Amor guided her over to a nearby couch, but she refused to sit down. "I'll get everything wet," she pointed out.
"Then let me get some towels for you," he suggested. He went into a darkened hallway beside the kitchen that led farther back into the shadowed depths of the apartment.
That gave Alma time to look around. Her feet took her to the front of the large room where stood a row of windows. Those were the same that looked out onto the front of the sweet shop and thus the street. She brushed aside a thick curtain and watched the rain pelt the glass. Her thoughts wandered back to the nightmare with her monstrous husband and she let out a shudder.
"Cold still?" Amor asked her. She jumped and swirled around. In the quiet of the room she swore his voice had sounded like Eres' wizened tone. He stepped out into the light of the living room and revealed himself to be the young fellow, albeit with an apologetic smile on his face. "Sorry about that. Didn't mean to scare you."
Alma shook her head even as he came over to wrap a towel around her shoulders. "Oh, no, it's fine. I'm just, well, just spooked, that's all."
He stepped back and looked her over with a careful eye. "Yes, anybody would still be scared after the fright you've had," he commented. "It's not every day that one's husband reveals his true self in such a startling manner."
Alma raised an eyebrow and her voice dropped to hardly more than a whisper. "How'd you know about my husband? I never said I was married."
"Earlier you did. Don't you remember the talk we had?" Amor asked her. She could only shake her head. "Hmm, I guess it is a little confusing. I haven't really told you enough for you to guess who I am." He gestured to the apartment around them. "And actually, I haven't been perfectly honest with you about my renting the flat," the man revealed. "I actually own the flat, along with the shop below."
"But I thought Mr. Eres owned the shop," she replied.
"He does. I'm Mr. Eres."
Alma's eyes widened and she stumbled back into the wall. She couldn't believe this handsome young gentleman was that old man. There was just no way. "If this is your idea of a joke-"
"Not at all," he interrupted. Amor stretched out his arms in front of him with the palms facing upward. "Let me show you."
Alma glanced down at his hands, and as she watched a change came over them. The smooth, young fingers wrinkled and shrunk into those of a many three times his age. The nails, at first firm and shining, darkened and shriveled back as though decades of work were given to them within seconds. She gasped and her head shot up to look at his face. Great was her surprise to find the elderly Mr. Eres smiling back at her.
"What do you think? Quite the trick, isn't it?" he asked her.
"H-how?" she stuttered out.
He lowered his arms and with it the mask of the old man. Eres vanished and was replaced with Amor. "Well, when you're a Greek god most anything is possible."
Alma blinked. Once. Twice. She opened her mouth and her lips flopped about for words. "W-what did you say?"
Amor stepped up to her and placed his hands on either side of her face. His voice lowered as his eyes traveled over her face, studying every detail. "A Greek god," he whispered. "Can you guess who, or rather what, I am?" She shook her head and he smiled. "Not even a little guess?" She happened to glance into his deep eyes and saw a swirling of emotions. Hunger, need, desire. The greatest that stood out was one of such endearing affection that she was caught off guard. She swayed a little and he quickly caught her. His voice had a teasing laugh to the words. "Careful there. Looking at a god's true self can be dangerous."
The words that escaped her lips were breathless but unwavering. "You're Cupid, aren't you? The one with the arrows."
Amor tilted his head to one side and smiled in admiration. "Very good. You must have peeked a little too close to have such a firm guess, but arrows? I haven't used those in ages, not when I have shops to serve my purposes. Well, at least for those extra special cases such as yourself."
Alma was jolted from her nervousness by his comment. "Me? What case? I had a husband. He abused me, but how's that different from anyone else? Why was mine special?"
He pulled her close against his chest and she was forced to look up into his dazzling eyes. "Because it had you, my dear. I've been waiting for you for a very long time, and now here you are for me to take back."
"Take back?" She was both angry and flattered by his possessive words and tone. "I don't recall ever belonging to Cupid."
"I prefer the name Eros, if you would, and yes, you have belonged to me before." He leaned in and his breath tingled against her ear. "My dear little Psyche. I've waited so long for your return."
The name, familiar and yet not, startled Alma. She turned away and frowned in thought. The name was hers, and yet not. He knew her as such, though, but how could she have known a Greek god and forgotten him?
He watched her struggles reflected in her face. "You have never known me in this current form, but in the far past. You see, my dear Psyche, you died before you could be granted immortality."
Her words came out in a hushed, scared whisper. "I...I died?"
Eros' own voice was eager, yet quiet. He didn't want to scare her, not when he was so close to his love after so many years. "Yes. Can't you remember? Doesn't anything of this recall your memories?"
Alma turned away and shook her head. All of this frightened her, she couldn't understand what this strange man, no, god, was asking of her. She'd lived only one life, the one she knew now. No, that wasn't true anymore. Her former life had toppled with the stairwell and the death of her husband. That monster, that creature he had become. That had looked familiar, like something she'd seen in a book, or maybe a long-forgotten memory. Her eyes widened. That was it. It was a memory that had flashed through her mind.
"That...that thing you turned Brutus into, that was a Cyclops, wasn't it?" she asked him.
He eagerly nodded his head. "Yes, that's right. Do you remember hearing stories of those things? Or maybe when I showed you their country all those years ago?"
Eros' face was grave and he slowly nodded his head. "Yes, that's right. Your sisters grew jealous of my love for you and your good fortune. They poisoned you at our wedding feast and you entered Tartarus before I could give you the ambrosia of immortality."
"Then I'm...I'm really your wife? And you're really a Greek god?" Alma asked him.
He chuckled at her wary question. "Yes, in a past life. It took ages of my begging Hades to release you so your soul could come back to this earth, but he finally relented." Eros pulled her to arm's length and glanced over his beautiful, recaptured bride. "And you are as beautiful as I remember, maybe more so."
She looked down at herself in her wet, filthy clothes. "I don't feel beautiful, and I don't feel like your wife. How can I know any of this is true? Are these really memories or just dreams?"
A sly smile spread across his lips. "Don't you know? That's what a prince's kiss is for."
Before she could protest, Eros swooped down and captured her lips in a deep, passionate kiss. Her whole body thrilled to the feel of his lips pressing against her own. They meshed together in a playful game of dominance which Eros eventually won. He pulled back to find her eyes half lidded and her breathing quickened. Eros wondered if the trick had worked, if she was his once more and they would be together again for all eternity.
His heart beat faster when a bright smile slid across her face. She wrapped her hands around his own and looked into his eyes. "What kept you, my love?" Psyche teasingly whispered to him.
Eros' eyes lit up with a joy that had waited millenniums to burst free from his sorrow. He clasped her against his chest and buried his face in her hair. The soothing smell of her soul brought back pleasant memories of the faraway hills of Greece, so much different from the filthy smells of the city around them. He had a hard time keeping back the sob of relief at having her returned to him.
Psyche's muffled voice came up from his clothes. "You're crushing me."
"Oh, sorry." He pulled her away and glanced down at her filthy clothes. Those could be fixed in a quick time, but her playful eyes told of other things she'd rather be doing.
She stepped up to him and ran a hand down his shirt. Her own, soaked through from the rain, was nearly transparent. "You know, we didn't get a chance to consummate our marriage," she reminded him.
Eros raised a brow and a wicked grin spread across his own face. "I do believe you're correct. After so many centuries we should amend that immediately."
"Just what I was thinking."
Psyche jumped up and captured his lips in another deep kiss. With their height differences, he grabbed her butt and lifted her up so he didn't need to stoop down. She responded by wrapping her legs around his waist, and he soon heard her shoes drop to the floor. Her wet clothes pressed tantalizingly up against him while their lips did battle, and he could feel every inch of her curved form against his body. Her breasts pressed against his chest and rubbed their pert buds along his muscles. He pressed her closer and ground his hips into hers, showing her his stiff, engorged need.
She gasped and pulled them apart. Her face was a glowing red and she panted for breath. "Wouldn't this work better without clothes?" she asked him.
"Yes, and we'll start with you." He set her down, and deftly pulled her shirt up and over her head. Before she could return the favor he'd unbuttoned her pants and, with a flick of his wrist, unclasped her bra. The flimsy material joined her shirt on the floor, but her pants slipped down only to her well-rounded hips.
She covered her breasts and scowled at his clothing. "I was meaning we take off our own clothes."
"But this is so much more enjoyable," he returned. She continued to frown at him, so he held up his hands. "All right, all right, I'll remove my shirt. Just remember that Cupid can be a very naughty boy once he gets started." While he was removing his shirt she returned the favor with the pants and then some. Psyche unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans, then pulled them down so they dropped to the ground. He tossed his shirt to the side and smirked down at her job. Only his underwear remained. "Very well done, but it's my turn again."
He swooped in and captured her lips in a frenzied kiss, but his hands didn't remain idle. They groped and massaged their way down her body to her pants, which were discarded, along with her panties. She stood naked before him, but returned the revenge by pressing her unrestrained, bulging breasts against his bare chest. Her hands slid behind him and her fingers twined themselves around the band of his underwear. It slipped over his waist and dropped to the floor, but he hardly noticed. Neither of them really noticed particularly when he lifted her up and carried her over to the couch.
He set her down and covered her body with his own. Their hot, moist skin pressed and pushed against each other while he tore himself from their kiss to plant soft kisses along her neck. She closed her eyes and clutched at his head as his path took him down to her heaving breasts. His warm lips captured one of the pert peaks in their clutches, and she gasped when he suckled her skin. She arched her back and pressed herself deeper into his mouth. He half slid off her and one of his hands reached down to massage the slick skin between her thighs. She was wet, soaked to the core with her own juices, and when he pressed a finger against her sensitive nub she jumped.
His chuckle vibrated through her breast, and he glanced up to see her cheeks red with blush. He reached up and cupped one of her full breasts in his hand, and he liked the way it filled his palm. She let out a shuddered sigh at the feel of him toying with her. He smirked and leaned down. His husky, whispered voice showed the depth of his own need. "You like that, huh?"
"Y-yes," she stuttered out. She shifted against the cushions to ease the tension between her legs, but it only inflamed the need.
"You want more of this? More of me?" he teased her.
She groaned and arched her back. "Please," she moaned out.
Her soft, sultry plea was enough to break his control. He nestled himself between her legs and she wrapped them around his waist. She was so wet that he had no trouble penetrating her warm, slick hole, and he shuddered at the feel of her soft walls pressing against his stiff, bulging penis. He was ready for a soft beginning, but she grabbed his butt with both hands and pushed him deeper inside her. They groaned in unison at the feel of becoming one; two people joined at their wet, slick hips.
He pushed against her and reveled in the feeling of pulling out. Her soaked walls massaged every inch of him, while he pleasured the woman by pressing against her sensitive clit. She grasped his arms and arched her back, giving a better angle to penetrate her. He pushed back in and out, rubbing against her as she was rubbing against him. Their hips rocked, then pounded against each other as they quickened the pace. In their ecstasy they groaned and grunted like wild animals. Their sounds filled the room and echoed off the walls.
His pace grew too fast for her to follow. She could only grasp onto him and press her heaving breasts against his sweat-soaked chest. He pushed deeper and deeper, touching every inch of her pleasure spots and igniting her body with sensual pleasures. She felt the end coming up, faster and faster. The muscles in her groin tightened. She gasped for air, but her body only screamed for release. Then it came, blinding and unimaginable. Her whole body shook when wave after wave of pleasure crashed down on her senses.
She slumped back onto the couch just as he finished. He buried himself deep inside of her, pushed again and emptied himself deeper into her being. She let out a squeak when he collapsed atop her smaller body. They lay
there panting for several minutes, their arms wrapped about the other in unbreakable grasps. Finally she couldn't stand it any longer. Warm as he was, she couldn't breathe beneath his large body.
"Um, mind giving me some air?" she teased him.
His reply was slightly dazed. "Hunh? Oh, yes, of course." He raised himself up onto his arms and looked into her shining face. The sex afterglow illuminated her beautiful features, and he reached up to brush aside a loose strand of her silky hair. "You like that?" he whispered.
"Maybe," was her coy response. She closed her eyes and sighed. "But we'd better not do that too often or I might kick the bucket."
He leaned down and touched their noses together. His voice was filled with happiness with a mix of mischief. "No you won't. I've already taken care of that risk."
Her eyes shot open. "Hunh? You did what?"
"Gave you immortality. The honey bar I gave you held the ambrosia of immortality."
"You mean-you mean I'm immortal now?" Psyche frowned. She didn't feel immortal.
He nodded and smiled. "Yes, my love, my soul. Now not even death can take you from me." He glanced down at their soaked bodies and wagged his eyebrows at her. "But enough of that for now. There will be time later for you to ponder our new life together. What do you say to taking a shower together?"
Psyche grinned. "I'd say we won't get much cleaning done, so I'm in."
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Other Books by Mac Flynn
(all serial titles also available in discounted box sets)
Phantom Touch #1
Phantom Touch #2
Phantom Touch #3
Phantom Touch #4
Phantom Touch #5
Sensual Sweets #1
Sensual Sweets #2
Sensual Sweets #3
Sensual Sweets #4
Cabin Fever (Unnatural Lover #1)
Old Stories (Unnatural Lover #2)