Sweet Evangeline (Moon Magic Book 2)

by Sable Hunter

  Picking up their plates, he cleared the table. “You are just what I want you to be. You are perfect,” Eric assured her. “You are mysterious and enchanting, easily the most exciting woman I have ever been with in my life. Now get up, I have a fantasy of my own to fulfill.”

  She was instantly ready for whatever he had in mind. “Go to the bedroom, get undressed and get into bed. I will join you in a moment.” Looking back as she walked, she wondered what was about to happen.

  Doing as he requested, she lay—naked—on the top of the covers waiting for him. When he came through the door, he was also naked, thoroughly aroused, and holding a small container of amber liquid. “What is that?” she asked innocently. She had her suspicions.

  “When you told me what the neighbor said, about the warm honey making your breasts larger—honest to God—I haven’t been able to forget it. Just thinking about rubbing this warm honey around your nipples has made me harder than a diamond.” He knelt on the floor at her side, placing the honey on the bedside table. She turned to face him.

  “Just don’t use it all, I have an idea of something I’d like to lick it off, myself.” Eric growled his arousal, crushing her lips beneath his own. They kissed deeply, tongues intertwining. In a move that she had never tried before, she captured his tongue and mimicked the action that she had taken between his legs. He jerked in her arms, pulling away from. “God, what you do to me! Lay back, love. Let me play.”

  He brought both hands to her breasts, but not quite touching. She trembled under his gaze. “Why do women think that all men prefer those huge melon sized breasts?” He studied her small mounds as if he were planning on recreating them out of clay.

  “Maybe, because they do,” she bantered back at him.

  “No, perhaps there’s a few. But some of us prefer apples; tart, sweet, juicy apples.” He licked the valley between her breasts. “I know a lot of men; and men talk, especially in a locker room setting. And the idea that all men like big breasts, especially fake ones, isn’t entirely accurate. In fact, I know one guy; his girl got implants and later he said that he would have given anything if she hadn’t. He said that kissing them now, was like kissing a softball covered in skin. Plus, she couldn’t feel anything in them anymore.” While he talked, his fingers had been busy. First, he encircled them—wide circles to begin with them, but narrowing with every revolution. Her nipples pouted, plumped up, daringly lifting themselves up, as if seeking his lips. “Aren’t you glad you can feel what I’m doing to you?” He began palming them, rubbing her nipples, pulling them, distending them. Evangeline began to toss her head from side to side. He asked her again. “How does this feel, love?”

  “Marvelous, incredible, it makes me want to scream with pleasure.” She spoke barely above a whisper. Then he dipped a finger in the honey and anointed each breast. Rubbing the warm liquid into her soft skin, she began to whimper. He was taking her from one high to another—she had never known making love could be like this. Eric massaged her breasts with the warm honey, then lowering his head, he proceeded to eat it off of her. With tongue and lips, he sucked every bit of the sweetness from her skin. And as he did, her whole body shook in a loin-melting, sheet-clutching climax. Eric chuckled. Evangeline felt boneless, but his amusement made her curious. “Why are you laughing?”

  “I made you come hard, and I never came within a foot of your pussy.” Eric looked immensely pleased with himself. “Yes, indeed. You aren’t the only one with power.”

  The rest of the honey didn’t go to waste. Evangeline had pulled him up on the bed, intent on using it as a dipping sauce. But Eric had other ideas. “This is my fantasy, and I’m not through.” When Evangeline realized Eric’s intent, she began to quiver with excitement. Eric took the honey and poured a razor thin line from her breastbone, down her midriff, across her navel to the very apex of her mons. Spreading her legs, he laid them wide, opening her fully to his gaze and to anything else he chose to do. “Oh love, you are so beautiful.” He traced the petal-soft satin with his finger tips. “When I found the honey today, I started dreaming of licking it off your breasts, sucking it off of your nipples, but then it occurred to me that I’ve never taken time to kiss you where you’re the softest. You are always so giving, so passionate, you reach for me with both hands—and I love that, don’t get me wrong. But now, I want to make you scream, I’m going to fill your honey-pot with nectar and then I’m going to eat my fill.”

  Evangeline closed her eyes in anticipation of the ecstasy to come. “Eric, you’re driving me mad.”

  “I’ve haven’t even touched you yet, love.”

  “You’ve touched me with your words,” she breathed.

  “Not enough.” Then he began the tactile assault. He gave a full open-mouth kiss to each nipple, then used his tongue to lap up the honey until he reached her navel, where he swirled around it, before heading lower. Rising up, he drizzled honey over her labia, causing her to lift in supplication. He made her wait no longer. Waxed smooth, there was nothing between her and the roughness of his tongue, the curve of his lip, and the depth of his kiss. When the honey was gone, he did not stop. He consumed her, pushing his tongue deep within her, making her buck and moan. Finding her clitoris, he sucked on it lightly, alternating with laps and laves of his tongue.

  “Eric, oh love, I can’t stand it, I’m going to come apart.” Evangeline’s orgasm was so intense she thought she was going to lose consciousness.

  She was wild for him, she pushed him down, climbed on top of him, and rode him until they both exploded. Afterwards, he held her, pushing a strand of hair off her damp forehead. “You’re my dream girl, baby—my every fantasy come to life.”

  * * * *

  Again, she was almost late for class, but it had been worth it. Being with Eric was more important than everything else in her life rolled up into one. But this was the class that she enjoyed the most. Rachel and the gang were there and they had more questions than she had time.

  “Hey, witchy woman, we went to the Neumann Museum. That was one hot exhibit!

  “So, that was Angel, huh?” Rachel was captivated by anything Evangeline did. She was a wannabe witch in the worst way.

  Evangeline regretted she had been so honest with Rachel, not about her witchcraft, but about Eric/Angel. He was personal, he was hers. “Yes. By the way, I like that wildlife sculpture you’re working on.” Evangeline worked diligently on changing the subject. Dr. Frederick came in about that time and the chatter had to wait. All through class, Evangeline could feel someone’s gaze burning holes in her back. She glanced over her shoulder and discovered it was Clark. She smiled and tossed him a friendly wave, figuring she was being overly sensitive. Concentrating on her work, the hour went by swiftly. Hindsight later would tell her, if only she had been faster, if only she had left when everyone else did. But she didn’t.

  She tried to hurry, but in her haste, she knocked over the small table that held all of her supplies. By the time she had picked everything up, the class room was empty. Every nerve in Evangeline’s body was tingling. And it wasn’t the same as her usual excitement with Eric. This was a forewarning of danger. But danger from where?

  Grabbing her purse, she started to leave. But a rough, strong hand brought her up short.

  “Don’t be in such a hurry, Martel.” Oh, it was just Clark. Relief flooded her body.

  “Hey, Clark. I’m sorry I missed your party the other night.”

  “So am I.” Evangeline tried to pull her arm from his grasp. Why wasn’t he letting go?

  “I need to go, Clark. Someone is waiting for me.” Her voice held just a tinge of panic.

  “Let them wait. I saw your sculptures at the exhibit.” These words were said with a leer. “I didn’t realize you were such a slut.”

  “Clark, please.” Again she tried to pull away. In her mind she began to call, ‘Eric, oh Eric. Please come to me, Eric. I need you, Eric. Please.”

  Clark Lawrence was barely half the size of Eric McAllister,
but he was big enough to subdue Evangeline. She began working up a ward in her mind, and it would have worked, but she just didn’t have time. “If you need a man, Martel, I’m available. I know what you are, I’ve known all along.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” ‘Oh, Goddess, help me’ she cried in her mind. ‘Eric, come to me, please!’ Evangeline said none of this out loud, she merely sank to her knees, held captive by a hand snarled tightly in her hair. She had expected Clark to rape her, but that wasn’t what happened. Instead, he began to kick her. Hard. Over and over again. She had enough presence of mind to wish he had worn tennis shoes, but he had on big cowboy boots with a sharp toe that had been embellished with a steel tip. He kicked her in the stomach and in the back and he kicked her in the breasts. She didn’t cry, she didn’t scream, she never said a word. There wasn’t any use. There was no one to hear her. The last blow that she was aware of was a hard kick to her head. Then nothing.

  * * * *

  Eric had gone to his condo for more clothes. He intended to take Evangeline out on the town. He knew she would be happy to spend the evening in bed with him, and that sweet willingness and the fact that she expected nothing from him, was exactly why he wanted to take her out and show her how truly special she was. Austin’s premier French restaurant was Chez Nous, a swanky, fairly expensive place that Jessica had loved. It wasn’t exactly his cup of tea, but he thought Evangeline would like it. Gathering everything he needed, he started back toward the campus.

  Strangely, a feeling of despair washed over Eric. Where had that come from? He was almost back to Evangeline’s house, very near to campus, when he heard her call his name. Her voice was as plain as day, and he would have known it anywhere. It was burned into his soul. He slammed on his brakes, pulled over and looked for her. Maybe she got out of class early and had walked out to find him. But she didn’t know where he had gone. Still, he looked for her. He saw no one that looked the least bit familiar. Still, he felt odd, uncomfortable, something was definitely wrong. Checking the clock, he knew class was over. She should be back at the house by the time he was. Reentering his car, he started it up and drove to her home.

  But no matter what he thought about, he couldn’t shake the notion that something was terribly amiss—with Evangeline. The more seconds that ticked by, the more certain he became. He swung the Camaro into her drive and bounded up the steps. He hadn’t locked the door, figuring to beat her back. He swung it open and called, “Evangeline! Sweetheart, are you here?” Oh, God let her be here. He checked every room, even running up the stairs to check her craft room. Glancing around, he took no time to let anything register. She wasn’t here.

  He ran outside and looked down the street. His stupidity hit him like a ton of bricks. He still didn’t have her cell phone number. Not taking the time to get back in the car, he began to run toward the campus. Something urged him to hurry. God, he hoped he was following the route she would take. He didn’t want to miss her, just in case she had been delayed for a few minutes. But his gut instinct told him differently—the same instinct that helped him stay alive when ceilings were falling and gas lines were exploding.

  Eric knew where the Arts Building was located; he had inspected the fire exits and extinguishers just a few months ago to ensure the building was meeting code regulations. But it was a big building. His adrenaline was running so high, that he took three steps in a single bound. He hit the door, but it didn’t budge. The building was locked! Shit!

  He wasn’t absolutely certain she was in there, but something told him he couldn’t take the chance—he had to check it out. Glancing frantically around, he let out a sigh when he saw one of the familiar blue and white university security vehicles. Racing up to it, he pounded on the window. “Hey! My name is Eric McAllister. I’m a fireman for the city of Austin. I think there is someone in that building who needs help.”

  The university worker was female, and she said she recognized him. Taking her keys, she ran to let him into the building. “Do you know what floor the sculpture lab or whatever is on?” he asked as he pushed through the door.

  “Third.” He heard her call out behind him. She tried to keep up with Eric, but she couldn’t. He didn’t bother with the elevator, instead he ran up the stairs. Trying to read the signs on the walls, he saw that the sculpture lab was at the end of the hall. Praying like he had never prayed before, he covered the distance in a dead run. Pushing through the double swinging doors, he looked around the darkened room. It was empty.

  No. It wasn’t. Something told him to keep looking.

  And then he saw her.

  Evangeline lay crumpled on the floor. She wasn’t moving. A tortured sob escaped from Eric’s throat. “God, Baby,” he groaned. He knelt beside her. It looked as if she had been severely beaten. There was blood, bruising, swelling—his heart ached trying to take it all in. Frantically he felt for a pulse. Letting out a harsh breath, he found one. “Call 911!” He screamed at the guard, who had just caught up with him.

  Not thinking, he picked her up, holding her to him. “Who did this to you, sweetheart?”

  Of course, she didn’t answer.

  He was trained the same as an EMT, so when he calmed just a little, he laid her back down and began checking for injuries. Running his hands over her body, he felt for broken bones. When he touched her ribs, she jerked. Undoing her shirt, before anyone else could get there; he was horrified to see the marks on her back and on her chest.

  He felt of her neck and head and discovered she had been beaten in the head with the same weapon that had been used on the rest of her body. His heart broke. Why would anyone do this to such a gentle little soul?

  Eric McAllister cried.

  Chapter Six

  The last time Eric could remember shedding a tear was when his mother died. He had seen tragedy and witnessed untold pain, but he had always been able to separate himself from it to some degree. But seeing Evangeline lying helpless on the floor, obviously having bore the brunt of someone’s sadistic onslaught, brought him to his knees. He asked the security guard to watch outside for the ambulance, and he stayed at Evangeline’s side, either with her hand in his or his resting on some part of her body.

  He thought the ambulance would never get there. At least he had the presence of mind to find her cell phone and call her grandmother’s number. It was a conversation he was dreading, but Nanette Beaureguarde did not lose her cool. “Where are you taking her, baby?” Eric was grateful for the endearment. His guilt was eating him alive. He had not taken care of her. She belonged to him and he had not protected her.

  “Brackenridge, just off 35.”

  “We’ll meet you there. And don’t worry. I’ll bring my bag of tricks.”

  At first the expression struck him as odd, but knowing what Evangeline had told him about her family, he realized she was probably serious. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Beaureguarde.”

  “I know, sweetie. We all are.”

  As he waited for the ambulance, he knelt and soothed a lock of hair from her forehead, wincing at the dark bloody bruise that was forming. She belonged to him. That fact kept emerging in his thoughts. Their time together had been short, but they had packed so much loving into so few hours that already his life was irretrievably wound into hers. He remembered her total acceptance of him, right from the start. He remembered how she had cared for him, cherishing him. She was exactly what he had longed for. Evangeline belonged to him.

  “Evangeline, sweetheart, can you hear me?” Leaning over, he tenderly kissed her on the side of her face, his body totally on the alert for any small indication that she was aware of him. To his great relief, she stirred—the faintest of movements from her head and one hand. She knew he was there. Eric bowed his head and prayed.

  It seemed like an eternity, but, finally, the ambulance arrived and transported her to the hospital. Brackenridge was only a couple of miles from where they were, so it wasn’t long before the doctor was evaluating Evangeline. To Eric’
s surprise, when the family arrived, they came en masse—all except for the congressman. Nannette, Elizabeth, her new husband, Angelique and Arabella, Eric was relieved to see them all.

  Nanette took over. She introduced him to the members of the family he had not met before. “Eric, this is my daughter Elizabeth and her recently acquired husband, Detective Tyler Garrison. Elizabeth is Arabella’s mama. Meet Eric McAllister, he belongs to Evangeline.” No one disputed the blatant fact that Nanette proclaimed, least of all Eric. He shook hands with them both, thinking that Elizabeth didn’t look old enough to be the mother of a grown woman.

  “Thank you, sugar.” Elizabeth smiled at him.

  “You’ll get used to it. I’ve seen you around, welcome to the family.” Detective Garrison seemed like a heck of nice guy. “When you get ready to talk, I’m here.” The two men spoke for a few moments, assessing one another, each appearing to like what they knew about the other—their priorities, their jobs.

  They hovered in the hall outside the main waiting room. “Tell us what you know,” urged Angelique.

  Eric pushed a large, frustrated hand through his thick hair. “Evangeline went to her two o’clock sculpting class. I had gone over to my condo on 4th to get some clothes. I was planning on taking her out to dinner tonight.” He stopped and hung his head. Arabella placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. “On the way back to her house, I heard her call my name. I pulled over and actually got out to look for her.”

  “I’m sure she did call you, Eric. In her panic, it would have been the most natural thing in the world for her to call your name, maybe out loud, maybe just in her heart.” Elizabeth’s words were sandpaper tearing at Eric’s soul, but he continued.

  “She wasn’t there, of course. I went over to her house, then I ran to the Arts Building. It was all locked up, but when I finally got in, I found her in the sculpting lab. She was unconscious.”