A Wicked Beginning (38 page)

“Oh,” Chérie exclaimed, sitting up. “What are you doing, Cam?”

“What do you think I am doing, Chérie?” he uttered, his tongue licking the inside of her sweet, soft thighs. “Just relax and enjoy, babe.”

“I’ve never…we’ve never…”

“Done this?” Cam purred. He flicked his eager tongue at her pearl.

“Oh,” she exclaimed again. “Oh, my.”

“Relax and enjoy the ride,” Cam repeated. “Let me share
my
skills with you.” He swept his tongue along the opening of her sex delighting in her gasp. His tongue probed and pushed its way through the folds of tissue. Chérie’s head fell back with a thunk. “Don’t hurt yourself, babe.” He smiled at the sweet sounds coming from her throat. Cam’s fingers found their way to her opening, and he gently inserted one, then two fingers, and Chérie relaxed and opened to him. She was like a flower unfurling to his touch. It was so hot to behold, his cock was ready to burst.

He continued licking her while his fingers moved in and out. Every once in a while, he’d look up and see her watching him or making blissful noises, eyes closed. This was fucking hot. He loved gratifying her needs, making her feel ecstatic. Her body was doing that ripple and undulate thing now, surging with sensation that washed through him with increasing rhythm and intensity. There was a crazy, sensual wind blowing against his face, blowing inside of him. When Chérie started to orgasm, he experienced her pouring through him as well, flooding his head, snaking into his body, down to his cock, his legs, and back up again. Oh, God, this was surreal. His arms were pumped with sensation that streamed into and out of his heart. He kept his mouth on her sex, lapping her honeyed juices while she writhed and moaned. When he could not stand it anymore, he tugged at the blanket, bringing it, and her, towards him until he could wrap his muscular arms around her and lower her onto his cock. His powerful legs flexed to support her weight. Oh, sweet Jesus, when she slipped over his shaft, his body lit up with electricity. This feeling was insane, it was insanely beautiful. “Chér,” he whispered.

She looked at him, awash in a golden glow, her eyes as bright as the sun. “What,” she whispered in response.

“Is what I’m experiencing you still responding to me from that commitment place?”

“Mmm hmm,” she said languidly, her legs wrapped around his hips. “I like knowing that we’re committed to one another.” She flexed her inner muscles causing Cam’s head to arch back. “Plus, I’m returning the favor.”

“What favor?” Cam asked, grasping her tightly. “What favor is that?”

“What you just did for me…just now…” She rocked her hips against him.

“That was nothing. Consider your pleasure payment enough. And honestly, that was just a trial run. First times are great. Second times are better. And third, fourth, and fifth times…well, you’ll just have to wait and see for yourself.” He pushed his cock deeper. “We both will.” He gave another thrust. His face contorted with the effort of holding back an orgasm. “I don’t think I can hold back much longer, babe.”

“Come for me, Cam. Let go inside of me.”

Her body pulsed with light. Holding Chérie was like holding a sunburst, a searing electromagnetic ball of energy. The feeling on his cock was extreme. The feeling in his body, in his heart was epic. “Oh, God, Chér, I can’t hold it back.”

“Let it stream, baby, let it stream all up inside of me like liquid bliss.”

When he came, Cam shook with pleasure. It flooded through him like a river. “Oh, God, Chér, this is fucking unbelievable.” Chérie was laughing with delight. Cam had never felt like this, even in his earlier explorations with her. His body was on fire with erotic sensation. The orgasm he’d just had was nothing compared with the rush of energy whipping through him. His hands gripped Chér’s ass, and his body kept rocking, kept surging, kept flowing up and into Chér, like a river. Yes, he
was
a river now; he was nothing but water, tumbling over rocks, rushing along, pushing, throbbing, swollen liquid; he was filling up the channel of the ka.

He was barely conscious of his surroundings, barely conscious at all; he was in some magical place with Chérie, zipping through the universe. Or was he still on planet Earth? He didn’t know, didn’t care; he only cared that wherever he was, he was with Chér. Only when he thought about it, when his mind started to form words and sentences again, he realized that he wasn’t with Chér at all. Instead, when he opened his eyes, he was sitting in his car on the side of the road in the same place he had pulled off a while back with Chér. He looked around. Yup, same place. Only he was alone. There was no structure around him, no skylight, just the roaring of cars zooming past him. His body was still electric, and his shirt – he was again fully clothed – his shirt was damp along the shoulders. Then a vague memory tickled his mind. It was a memory of sharing a mind blowing blissful connection with Chérie, and then her crying, her tears leaking onto his neck, his shoulders, and then – poof! She was gone.

Cam’s mind raced. Had this whole thing even happened? Was he losing his mind? When a sharp rap knocked the window, he jerked in alarm, turning to see none other than old fire-hair herself, her braids fluttering and flipping in the wind. She made a gesture, indicating that he roll down his window.

“Are you finished?” she snapped, glaring at him.

“Finished with what?” he asked, bewildered.

“Good heavens, what do you think I mean? Finished consorting with the ka.”

Okay, validation that what he thought had occurred really had occurred. “Looks like it, doesn’t it?” he snapped back.

Natalie roared with laughter. “Oh, so now you’re Mr. Hot Pants, are you?”

“Could be,” he muttered darkly, squinting at her.

She clapped her hands and a feeling like ice crystals breaking, showering his body with shivery cold came upon him. His teeth started chattering. “Wh-wh-why did you do that?” His teeth were clattering like rattling dishes in an earthquake.

“You need cooling off, pal, or you’ll never make it to the ferry. You’re going to have to learn to master your impulses, or every female or gay male around will be after you. Men will attack you in threat. You’ll make wars.”

Cam remembered what Mano had said to him.

“That’s right, hot shot, your big friend was right. At least one of you two has some sense inside of him. As well as something else,” she said with a huge, leering smile. “Let him know he may need another refresher lesson.”

That sentence conveyed too much information for Cam. “Okay, that’s enough with the insults,” he said, straightening in his seat. “I have to catch the next ferry.”

“Oh, I’ve held the one you wanted to get on for you…actually just turned back time a little. You can thank me later. You really need to get on your merry way. And learn how to master your energy, will you? I can’t always be here.”

“I could use a clue or two,” Cam shot back.

“Colonel Mustard. It was an axe. There’s your clue,” she retorted, referencing the board game, Clue.

“Very funny, Natalie.”

“Oh, so we’re on a first name basis now, are we?”

“What should I call you?” Cam was getting really annoyed.

“Mrs. Epic, of course,” Natalie said, laughing. “Try it out.”

When Cam did not respond, she scowled, trained her eagle eyed gaze on him, and commanded, “Try it,
Cam
.”

A strange burning sensation spread across his face and neck. He winced and looked at her out of the corner of his eye. “Okay, Mrs. Epic.”

“Look at me when you say that,
Cam
.”

Cams face hardened as he turned to meet her gaze. “Mrs. Epic…” he repeated, slowly.

She burst into laughter again. “No, I hate that. It makes me sound old. Let’s go back to Natalie.” She stalked around the car. When she got back to his side of the Land Rover, she reversed her direction, circling in the other way.

“What the hell are you doing?”

“Assessing things, what do you think? Now be quiet.”

Cam sat, fuming.

After Natalie had repeated her circular movements, she stood to the side of the car and rested her palms on the window. She looked at Cam with tears in her eyes.

“What?” he snapped. First, Chér, now her - what the fuck was going on with people crying over seeing him? She was close enough he could smell her earthy fragrance. Cam thought she smelled like the woods in autumn, when leaves were in bursts of color or dying in heaps on the forest floor. He’d spent enough time in the woods that he intimately knew the seasons, not only by the temperature and the appearance, but by the scents as well. Yes, Natalie was pure autumn, with her fire-crackling braids, her golden eyes, and her woodsy scent.

Natalie looked at him for a long time, weeping copiously. She said nothing, yet while she wept he felt something like a thousand tiny fingers quickly moving over his chest with rapid, fluttery movements. The tiny fingers eased themselves through the skin and muscles and found their way into his heart cavity. There, they surrounded his heart and kept up with their fluttering caresses. Cam’s face was furrowed as this occurred. What the hell was she doing to him? It was a strange sensation, neither pleasant nor unpleasant, like getting an inner massage with bee wings. He looked over at Natalie, whose eyes were now closed, intent on whatever she was doing with her mind.

Cam was tired of being probed, pushed, stalked, and examined by creatures and people. He just wanted to be left alone to get on with his life. He shook his head and tapped the steering wheel with impatience. “Can I go now?” When he looked back, Natalie was gone and his heart ached, like he had just lost a beloved friend. “This is just too fucking much.” Muttering to himself, he put the keys into the ignition, and eased the car back onto the road, heading for the waiting ferry.

Chapter 35 – Jayze

With legs outstretched, hands limply draped over the end of the metal arms, Jayze sat slumped in her wrought iron chair, contemplating the art before her. She filled her cheeks with air and blew it out between her pursed lips. Boy, oh, boy was she stuck. Frustrated, she brought both hands to her scalp, scrubbed her head furiously, and made a sound of extreme displeasure. “Where’d you go?” she asked the beast. “Why are you being so difficult?”

A knock sounded on the door. Jayze sighed. “Come on in, Marilyn,” she yelled, wearily. Ever since the beast had inspired her to stand up for herself, Marilyn’s behavior had shifted. Now, instead of being angry, bossy, and controlling, Marilyn was sulky, cross, and controlling. In other words, she was still Marilyn.

Marilyn walked in, dragging her feet along the floor, dressed in black Doc Martens, black pants, black shirt, and an army green overcoat. Her long black hair hung limply along her shoulders, and her face was a pasty white. “How’s it going?” she asked in a petulant voice.

Jayze glanced up at her attire and turned down the corners of her mouth. She really wanted to tell Marilyn that the Goth look had been over for years…decades, actually. “It goes. Actually, it’s stuck in the mud.”

They stood side by side, looking at the clay beast. It was still in the same powerful, outstretched leaping position, but something was definitely different about it. The eyes, which once had appeared almost lifelike, now appeared dull and listless. Jayze wanted to shove a vacancy sign into the clay and be done with it.

Marilyn moved behind Jayze and fingered her blond hair. “Why do you keep sitting out here struggling with this thing? I’ve got better things to keep you occupied.”

Oh, right, like she could get turned on with all the tension between her and Marilyn.
The two of them had not had sex lately. Jayze continually spurned Marilyn’s advances, telling her that she was tired from sculpting. Actually, she was tired of Marilyn. Ignoring her, she kept her eyes on the lifeless beast. Damn, it even looked like the clay was droopy. Yeah, it looked like the clay, which left to its own characteristics would harden, was just going to melt off the wire framework of the beast and all her hard work would be in a puddle on the floor. Sighing again, Jayze felt like giving up. “Did you come in here for any reason in particular?” she asked Marilyn.

“I just thought you might want to play.” Marilyn touched Jayze neck. “I miss playing with you.”

“What, are we five-years-old? Last I recall, we don’t have a sand box and the dolls are gone, gone, gone.” Marilyn glared at her. Jayze started to apologize, just like she always did, but bit her lip instead. She was tired of always saying “I’m sorry.” What the hell did she have to be sorry for? In truth, she was sorry she was still in this smashup of a relationship. She was just afraid to do anything about it. It was easier to remain in a stasis with Marilyn then do anything about it.

She watched as Marilyn’s face darkened and her anger built, no doubt stoked from memories and experiences past, the present, the future, the whole of her angry life. Marilyn was an unhappy woman. She made certain that everyone around her knew that. Fed up, Jayze lost her temper. “Okay, I get it Marilyn,” she yelled. “You’re unhappy. You’re in a constant state of wretchedness, and it’s all my fault. Is that it, huh? Is it? Well, is it?”

A glint of life sparked in Marilyn’s eyes.
Good grief, she looks like she is enjoying this,
Jayze thought sourly. She made a mental image of taking a gun and shooting the next apology that was forming in her head…blowing it to smithereens. “Aren’t you going to say anything? Or, are you just going to stand there sulking?”