Atroyel, p.21
Atroyel, page 21
Everyone told me I had nothing to complain about, that I should be thankful I was such a chick magnet. I’m scared to death Ali may have a similar response. I’ve added so many layers to the hard shell erected around my secret. I’m not sure I can crack it open. I’m the happy-go-lucky guy who lives to make the universe a better place. I gave up fighting against what the world wanted from me in my early teens and worked to perfect the persona everyone wants to see—Mr. Charm.
In that way, Troy and I are very similar. He can charm anyone if he sets his mind to it, but he can only hold that persona for a limited time. All three of us have the power of emotion absorption, but unlike Cass and me, Troy can’t use the power of others’ emotions to enhance his powers when it’s someone he cares about. His compassion is his greatest strength and weakness. We’d learned at a young age that when Cass or I hurt, Troy internalizes our pain and suffers. The more of these emotions he absorbs, the weaker he becomes, and he can’t turn the absorption off.
Until Ali, and now I can see what gives her strength. Although she hasn’t lowered all of her defenses, she’s dropped the drawbridge enough for me to see that she’s the living embodiment of compassion, at least where Troy’s concerned. She may not realize it, but she converts his emotional angst to energy and uses it to erect a shield between him and the world.
Ali sits quietly, waiting . . . and showing me a side of her I haven’t seen—a deep capacity for active stillness that allows her to open her senses. So, I tell Ali about how the headmistress used me for herself and as a special “guest” at her orgies. Tears well in her eyes as I explain how they used their magic to make me compliant, but otherwise, her expression doesn’t change. At an excruciating part, I tense as my own tears threaten, dropping my hands and my eyes to my lap. Her small brown hands slip over my tight fists, and her warmth and strength flow into me, giving me strength.
“That was a long time ago, and like you, I’m well healed. That experience made me who I am today,” I conclude. That’s as far as I can go today. Healed though I am, opening those old wounds and revealing my secrets drains me. I drop my eyes again, take several large swallows of the rum coconut water, and hope like hell Ali can’t feel my hammering heart.
I wait for it. The rejection I know is coming. Because, unlike with Troy, nothing about our mating bond is certain until the bond matures. When she moves, I brace myself for the disenchantment I expect to see. Once before, I’d thought I was in love. I’d believed her when she’d said she wanted to share my secrets. Just as I have tonight, I’d bared my soul. She’d sent me packing, telling me she couldn’t handle the abuse. She wasn’t able to look at me the same way because I was damaged goods.
Now, I realize that it had been nothing more than infatuation because I’ve seen what Ali and Troy share, a bond that involves trust, honesty, and acceptance, and that’s the kind of love I crave. It’s always been out of my reach . . . until now. I wait for the words that will break my heart, so I’m utterly unprepared for what happens.
In one fluid movement, Ali lifts my arm, pivots onto my lap, and anchors the back of my head with one hand. “I owe you a kiss.” Her voice has the low throaty register that signals the depth of her passion. Her full lips descend on mine, and she throws her whole body into a kiss that leaves me breathless. This isn’t sex. Ali’s speaking to me with her body, showing me what she’s not ready to put into words. She tells me that our past is behind us, that the future is ours to build. The heat of her desire makes me moan as she shows me my past abuse doesn’t tarnish or reduce me in her eyes.
After several stunned seconds, my body responds in kind, sharing my trepidation and joy at what it means to be so very exposed. There’s so much more to say, but our need for oxygen eventually makes us come up for air. She rests her head on my shoulder. I hold her tight. We share the slowing rhythm of hearts beating in sync. I pray this moment will last forever . . . and grow impatient for more.
Ali raises her head and stares into my eyes, opening then shutting her mouth.
“What were you going to say?”
She shakes her head. “I have a habit of ruining special moments by saying the wrong thing.”
Nothing, but nothing, she could say will ruin this moment. For the first time in centuries, maybe ever, I’m not shutting down at the first reference to my look. I didn’t give anyone else a chance . . . until now. Although, the increased burning in my shoulder suggests the decision’s been removed from my control. My mating brand demands attention. I put my hands on her waist and set her on her feet.
Ali pushes the sleeve of her dress onto her shoulder and runs her finger over the darkening triangle forming under the black rose tattoo. She meets my gaze with eyes alight with wonder. For several beats, we’re locked in that moment of recognition.
“Let’s get this done.” I grab her hand and head out into the night.
Ali yanks on my hand, bringing me to an abrupt halt. I turn and see an inner light that blasts the remaining anxiety from my heart. “You took the words right out of my mouth.”
45
ALEAH
We’re in the air. I’m flying . . . fanfuckingtastic! Tristan’s doing the work, so I relax in his arms, enjoying the warm tropical air tickling my skin like an erotic feather. I take a moment to check that place in my heart where Troy lives, and his message is loud and clear: Get ’er done. That’s my man. The world sees him as an easygoing, charming, and patient guy. That idea makes me snort. Troy is anything but patient. He hates chaos and limbo, so whenever we’re at a crossroads, he pushes until I take action. Right now, there’s no doubting the not-so-gentle push Troy’s giving me. My tattoo pulses as if punctuating his message. Although we react in different ways, neither of us is good with limbo when it comes to something that affects our relationship. I send him a silent message of my own: Yeah, yeah. Give me a frigging minute.
Tristan lands on a wooden path and gently sets me down. The stars, a full moon, and underwater lighting light our surroundings. We’re back on the island, so we must be back at our villa. Tristan takes my hand and leads me the other way toward a smaller villa nestled in the trees.
I’m happy to follow and take a few moments to get my head around this moment. If that’s at all possible because, right now, I don’t seem to be able to focus on anything but making love with this man. I feel like a schoolgirl on a first date, nerves all atingle. It’s not the booze because I barely feel its influence. One would think I’d never had sex before.
We enter a large circular living room, except that the furniture looks as if it’s been designed for more than sitting. Chairs and recliners with hand and footholds are scattered amongst a couch and two chaise lounges. Several doors to other rooms line the walls, some open, giving a glimpse of more kink furniture.
Tristan pours drinks from a pitcher standing on a sideboard. I wander around, peering into the different rooms, and confirm my first impression. Each room is designed for fantasy or role-play. One room is set up like a Victorian bedroom, except that the wrought-iron bed is enormous, large enough for a whole lot of bodies. Two hot male bodies, to be precise. Three. A voice whispers in my head, and Cass’s dark face skitters through my mind. I shut it down. Three is definitely a crowd in this situation.
Another room features a large cot, a single wooden chair, and chains with manacles on the wall. A third has a spanking bench with a wall display holding paddles, floggers, and straps. I shiver, unsure whether it’s from nervousness or delight as I complete my tour.
Tristan follows me through large French doors that open onto a patio facing the ocean and hands me a drink. We don’t say a word, but there’s no mistaking the need welling up within me as his gaze locks with mine. I’m forty and too experienced to be having a case of first-time-itis, but I’m head over heels about this man. Before my head locks firmly into analysis mode, Tristan takes the drink from my hands and tips my chin toward him. He kisses me tenderly, sending volts of electricity to the junction between my legs.
“I need you to be mine.” The need in his gravely voice almost brings me to my knees. And I have no idea how to respond to that. My body and mind are a swirling cauldron of feelings I can’t identify. But one thing I know for sure—I need Tristan to make me his.
He sweeps me off my feet. Literally. Another first I don’t have time to contemplate before he sets me on my feet again in the Victorian bedroom. Keeping his hands on my arms, he looks at me as if seeing me for the first time. I sincerely hope the candlelight hides the goosebumps that spring up all over my body at his hot gaze. Tristan’s hunger is like nothing I’ve ever felt before. Whereas Troy’s need for me is always at a constant simmer and boils over when he’s in the mood, Tristan’s need has the force of a volcanic eruption.
Suddenly, I’m scared to death. What the hell will he think when he sees my middle-aged body? He’s probably had his pick of the most beautiful women in the universe.
Tristan’s hands tighten on my arms, drawing my wandering thoughts back to him. “Don’t you dare. Tonight, you’re mine.” He steps back and pulls off his T-shirt, displaying the fine hairs sprinkling his muscular chest. He throws it over a chair without taking his eyes off of me, looking every bit like a predator eying his tasty prey. Next, he takes my glasses and places them on a small table.
My mouth goes dry as he reaches around my neck, undoes the clasp holding the drop-shoulder top of my dress, and slides it down my bare arms, revealing my small bare breasts. He must sense my urge to cover them as he gives a small shake of his head.
Do not spoil this moment for me, mon chou.
So I stand there, wanting him, needing him . . . and wanting to run for the hills. Troy’s the only man who’s seen this body in twenty years, and his love for me enables him to turn a blind eye to the lumps and bumps that come with age. I shiver as he slides the dress over my hips and a somewhat cheeky butt, but his wandering hands hook my panties and glide them down my legs, commanding my attention.
“Are you afraid?” Once again, that throaty tenor voice pulls me to him.
I shake my head. “Nervous, not afraid,” I manage to choke out.
He keeps his eyes and hands on my body. “Nervous of?”
“Disappointing you.” Fuck. I hadn’t meant to say that. I want to close my eyes against the bright light glowing in his eyes. But then, I could swear Troy gives me a sharp slap on the ass and pushes me toward my destiny.
“There’s nothing in this world you could do that would disappoint me.” Before I can react, he lifts me and places my naked body on the bed, giving me several glorious seconds to admire his body while he removes his belt and undoes the top button of his jeans. All the while, his hot gaze consumes my body, making me yearn to have him inside me. The burning heat in my tattoo matches the incinerator firing between my legs. My nipples and clit tighten to hard stones as wave after wave of desire ripples through me.
The mattress depresses as he settles beside me, head propped on one hand a whimsical look on his face that makes my pussy engorge with liquid heat. Blue eyes, darkened with desire, shimmer with heat for me. Me! He sees me. He needs me. He wants me, warts and all.
His blond hair is tucked into a loose ponytail, but a lock breaks free as he looks down at me. I reach up and smooth it back, using the same gesture he’d used on me when he tucked loose curls behind my ears. Desire arcs between us as our skin meets. The small smile on his lips matches mine as he dips his lips to mine. This kiss blots out all other thoughts. I relax against him, and our bodies start to speak our truth.
We make soft, slow music with our lips and tongues, composing our love song’s first movement. Tristan punctuates each pause for breath with a soft sigh as he whispers his love and brushes his face against mine. Our bodies move in concert as I punctuate his verses with my chorus. I love you. Three little words I’ve only uttered to one other man. There’s no room for my doubts and fears. We may not know each other that well, but I know in the depths of my soul that I love this man. This man is another part of what makes me whole. The divine light shimmering in his eyes tells me he mirrors my feelings.
Just like that, Tristan gives me his heart. No thought, no hesitation, just certainty that this is meant to be. The strangest feelings flow through me as I receive and return his gift.
He not only explores my body with his mouth and hands but lets me return the favor in a way I’ve never done before. Troy never liked having me explore his body, and I’d never figured out why. Tristan’s moan stops me from giving it any further thought. The way his body responds to mine as I suck his nipples and rake my fingers over the steel heat of his abs fills me with something I can’t identify. Something almost visceral rises from me and mingles with similar mist rising from Tristan.
I reach down and undo his zipper, ready to tear his jeans off. He stills my hands, focusing my attention on his erection as it springs free. Before I can admire his impressive length, strong hands press my thighs back toward my chest, spreading my legs wide. Tristan smiles as if he’s seeing a rare jewel for the first time, sliding his gaze to meet mine before returning to my glistening cunt.
I gasp and arch into him as he lowers his head and swipes his tongue through my juices before his hot mouth covers my swollen clit. A gentle but firm hand on my stomach stills me as Tristan backs off just enough to let me know he plans to take his time. Using his clever tongue and fingers as his instruments, he adds musical flourishes to the harmony we’re creating. The soft moans of pleasure he makes as he tastes me give me the most precious gift. He licks his fingers dripping with my essence to show me how much he loves the taste of me before continuing a slow climb to the peak. At some point, my eyes close, and I lose touch with anything but my thrashing body and soft catching sounds somewhere in the background. The need for release races through me as he sucks my clit deep into his mouth with a slow even tempo until I shatter, exposing my very soul.
46
TRISTAN
Aleah lies spread wide before me, wet and welcoming, demanding I take her. Despite the pull from the brand and my throbbing cock to consummate this union, I take a long moment to drink in this feeling—this moment I’ve dreamed of for centuries but have feared would escape me. The soft blue-white grace glistening on her skin shows me she’s ready. Trust and love flicker like flames as divine light flares in her eyes. She’s so beautiful. How does she not know this?
When I touch her lips with mine, she tastes her juices on my tongue, giving me the singular sexiest moment of my life. Without breaking the seal of our lips, I palm the back of her head, grabbing her soft curls and balancing my weight on my arm. I grab my cock as my balls draw up tight and firm, begging for release. Her pulsing cunt clutches me as I slide my cock inside the entrance. With a soft moan, she arches, pushing her breasts into my chest. I plunge into her, burying my cock balls deep, and find home. A soft moan of my own escapes me as I pause to let her heat seep into me.
But the brand and Ali command more. She grabs my ass and squeezes with impatience. The hot pulsing in my brand demands relief, and my cock beats to the same drummer. Despite being firmly anchored by my body, Ali thrashes beneath me. One word comes out in a soft sigh against my lips. Please. Time’s up. Propping my arms on either side of her head, I lose myself inside her. Nothing exists but her heat and mine as strands of our grace mingle, twisting together to form a new union.
Ali releases a loud groan, and her small hands knead my ass, delivering her message loud and clear. Gritting my teeth, I send a silent prayer to the gods for endurance and piston into her. Despite drilling into her like a jackhammer, she screams for more as another orgasm crashes through her. Everything in me screams for release, but I want to savor this moment. Beads of sweat cover my body from the exertion. At some point, Ali throws her arms above her head with eyes closed, rolling her head from side to side as her panting breath mingles with mine. I pick up the pace and embrace the feeling of her pulsing cunt cocooning my hungry cock.
As I reach the point of no return, Ali’s eyes spring open and her full lips part. “Now!”
I pull my cock out to the tip, then drive home. Again and again, until I break apart. Our intimacy reinforces my crumbling foundation with the promise of what we’ll build together. Still panting, I roll onto my back, pulling her on top of me. Our breath slows as our hearts beat in synchronous harmony. The most beautiful feeling of knowing Ali flows from my brand, filling my body, stilling my soul. We don’t need words. Our bodies speak our new truth.
Early dawn light filters into the room as something pulls me out of the most beautiful dream. Ali’s wiggling body reminds me that this dream is now a reality. I kiss the top of her head as she gingerly tries to lift my arm from her body. She grimaces as she looks up at me, acting every bit like a skittish colt.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you,” Ali whispers. “I need a bio break.” Earnestness replaces all signs of the playful woman I’ve caught glimpses of. There are so many layers of emotion sifting through Ali, and they’re hard to identify. Instead, I focus on the joy hitting me like blows and smiles.
Ali manages to extract herself from my embrace and fusses with covering herself with a sheet and donning her glasses before heading off. I prop a couple of pillows behind my head and inspect my deltoid to confirm the new sensations inside me. The solid strokes of the black rose gleam with divine light. The slight discomfort of the freshly formed brand can’t compare with the joy that keeps bubbling through me. Ali knows my secret and doesn’t care. I understand her nervousness and excitement. We’re virtual strangers, linked by divine decree, an arranged marriage of sorts. Everything about our lives is changing, and we have many complex layers to sift through.
