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Authors: Bebe Balocca

Tags: #Erotic Romance Fiction

Beds and Blazes (11 page)

BOOK: Beds and Blazes
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Carmen gave Dora’s face, scalp and neck a last dose of Healing Water. She sprayed water in Dora’s ears and nostrils, then parted her lips to rinse her mouth. “Swallow,” Carmen said. “You need some of this, my friend.”

Dora covered Carmen’s hand with her own, holding the tube to her lips, and drank deeply. She smiled drunkenly. “Yum,” she chuckled. Her eyes rolled back and her head lolled on her shoulders. Korbin yanked on the hose a second time.

Paloma and Carmen, weeping and smiling, wrapped a woozy Dora in a fluffy blanket. A splash erupted from the streambed and Bufo’s bug-eyed face popped into view. He looked at Dora, limp and lovely, in Lowell’s arms and hooted in triumph.

“Good job, Bufo,” Carmen said. She smiled at the rejoicing gnome. “Well done.”

Lowell’s cheeks gleamed with tears. “She’s okay! I’ll take her to the castle, then, and let her rest.”

“But she’ll restie better at her place, will she not?” Limax asked. “In her ownsie bed and under that familiar roof of hers own?”

“Bohemian Rhapsody burned down, Limax,” said Carmen. “That’s the last place Dora needs to be.”

The patter of feet echoed down the entry corridor as another visitor arrived. An elf, taller than the gnomes and more elegantly proportioned, bowed curtly. “The first wing, which includes her suite, is complete.” he stated in a high-pitched voice. “Follow me.”

Bufo cackled with delight.

“What’ve you done now, gnome?” Lowell glowered.

“Oh, go on, you, and take a look-see.” Bufo crawled from the stream and shook his head like a dog. “You’ll be smilin’, betcha five chickens you will.”

Lowell followed the gnome down the flame-lit corridor.

Korbin turned to Bufo. “Do you have a few moments to spare?” he asked. “I’d love to record your subterranean experiences while they’re fresh.”

Bufo accepted another blanket from Carmen and followed Korbin from the cavern. “Oh, eeesh, wormsies and lightsies and teeniney fairy folk and awfullish things with teeth.” he began. “And wheels and wires, like the guts of a clock, moving and clicking, right beneath rock and pebble, as though ’twere living bones rolling about under skin.”

Paloma, Brock and Carmen dried their feet as Limax, who was eager to extol Bufo’s virtues, chattered away. “At home in wet and dry he is!” she crowed. “And a jumper like none you’ve seen, and can snarf up the flies like a snappin’ fish, that one can…”

As she left the chamber, Carmen glanced at the man in a shadowy corner of the bathing chamber. She nodded at him, but spared him the attention he clearly wanted to avoid. She knew that Gavin would leave last and alone, ever the stern patriarch of the clan, and wondered if his children would ever know the tangle of emotions that lay beneath their father’s calm exterior.

Chapter Twelve

Dora sat up and stretched. Her bed linens had never felt so luxuriantly silky, nor the mattress so perfectly firm yet supple. The sunlight streamed in through her white lace curtains and songbirds chirruped outside. She felt rested, energetic and healthy. “Feels like I’ve had a massage and a twelve-hour nap.” She ran her fingers through her hair. “Awesome.”

She looked down at a hulking form curled beneath her green-sprigged sheets. “Lowell?” she wondered aloud. “You slept here?”

Lowell snorted and rubbed his face. He grinned sleepily. “Hope you don’t mind. You were a little, ah, well… Let’s just say you were as inviting as all get-out, and I couldn’t bear to leave you alone.”

Dora lay on her side and propped herself on one elbow. “Is that so, Lowell Rossi?” She ran her hands down his side and tugged the sheet down to his hip bone. “I’ll confess that last night is a bit of a blur. Last thing I remember is you being aggressive with a possum and leaving when I called the cops, and then me settling in to a bath with some wine.” She smiled to see a familiar shape grow beneath the crisp sheets.

“Well, perhaps you had more wine that you realised—” Lowell began. He froze when Dora’s hand found his erection and gripped it.

She smiled and stroked him through the sateen cotton. “Were you watching me in the tub through my bathroom window, hoping to make amends?” she asked. Lowell’s shaft hardened in her grip. “I ought to be mad at you for what you did to that poor possum, but all I can think about is how good I feel…” She licked her lips and tossed her sleep-tousled hair over her shoulder. “And how good
you
feel.”

“Ah, Dora, there’s something we should talk about,” Lowell said. “Some things you need to know.” He groaned as Dora lifted her legs and straddled him. She pulled the sheet away and pressed his cock against the dark curls of her pubic hair.

“I don’t want to talk.” She placed one palm on his chest and raised herself up slightly on her knees. “I want to feel this thing…” She rubbed the tip of his shaft down her belly until it found her opening. “I want to have it inside of me, shoved to the hilt, and I want you to pound it in me until I scream.”

Lowell grabbed her rear with both hands and nodded. “I can do that.”

Dora settled herself onto his erection and let her eyes fall closed. “Here,” she whispered. “Right here, Lowell, is where you belong.” She eased down onto him slowly, letting his girth stretch and fill her, and hummed contentedly. “Don’t you agree?” She smiled.

“Absolutely.” He growled and took one breast in each hand. “Come on then, woman. Don’t just sit there.” He pinched her nipples between thumb and index finger and tilted his hips up to her.

She leaned over him and let her breasts swing towards his face, then began to pump her hips. “You’re so thick,” she murmured, “so heavy. I love it.”

Lowell caught one peak in his mouth as she ground on top of him. Her free breast brushed over his face, the taut nipple stroking his closed eyes, his nose, his cheeks.

“Yeah,” she breathed. She spread her thighs wider, craving more of his fat shaft. The bed creaked under her as she bucked into his body. “Suck it.”

Lowell pulled her breast harder into his mouth. She pumped faster, torn between the sweet, stretching tug of his mouth on her tit and the thick tightness of his cock in her cunt.

She cried out as she came, a guttural animal scream, and slammed down on his shaft. “There!” she gasped. “Right there, Lowell!” Her body shuddered in his grip.

He grabbed her around the waist and flipped her trembling body over. “Don’t stop,” he murmured. “Keep coming, Dora.” He shoved his length into her, grunting with each stroke. The headboard of the bed thumped against the wall. Energy thrummed through her, then the intensity of her orgasm receded slightly and she opened her eyes. Lowell was on top of her, jaw clenched and teeth bared. “Get ready,” he forced out. She wrapped her ankles around his lower back and tilted her hips up to him. The slap-slap of flesh on flesh was loud, but the rush in Dora’s ears drowned it out.

Another climax drew tantalisingly closer. “Harder,” she urged. “Faster.”

Lowell squeezed his eyes closed and roared, pummelling into her. Dora came again and raked her nails across his back. The room tilted and every nerve in her body sang out. He tensed, groaning, then slumped onto her body, breathing hard.

She waited a moment before rolling his heavy body off her. “That was amazing, Lowell, but whew! I am completely ravenous. What would you say to some pumpkin bread and tea, Lowell? Maybe some pistachios and cheese, too. I feel like I could eat a horse.” She picked up her robe where it was draped across the bench at the foot of the bed and frowned, fingering the material thoughtfully. “Huh. They must have improved the brand of laundry softener I use,” she murmured. “My robe feels like it’s brand new. Weird.” She knotted it around her waist and stood. “What the hell? My rug feels especially thick and plush, too, and it looks like my chandelier was just polished, but I know I haven’t done that in months.” She laughed lightly. “Oh well, if I’m losing my mind, I suppose this is a nice way to go.”

“Dora, there’s something we should talk about.” Lowell chewed his lip and stared at the ceiling. “Something you ought to know.”

“Food first!” Dora insisted. “I’m going to fold in half and disappear if I don’t get something to eat.” She bounded into the hallway, then paused. “Holy hell, the ceilings look higher than they used to,” she muttered. “And the wood floors are all glossy, as if they’ve been refinished…”

Lowell lurched nude from her bedroom and grabbed her in the hall just outside the kitchen. “Wait!” he ordered. “Just wait, okay? This is important.”

Baffled, Dora studied his face. “Well, okay then. Spit it out! Did you have a cleaning crew in here while I was sleeping or what?” She leant back against the wall and waited.

Lowell took a deep breath and scratched the back of his neck. His mouth dropped open, then snapped shut again. Dora laughed. “No rush, I guess. You’re easy on the eyes, after all.” She ran her hands down his stubbled neck, over his wide chest and ridged abdomen. “Just don’t forget you’re dealing with a woman who’s got a powerful appetite.” She wriggled her shoulders against the wall to scratch them. “Damnation, I’m itchy! Feels like something’s been chewing on me. Oooh, what is that?” She yanked her robe down to her elbows and turned her bare back to Lowell. “Poison ivy?”

Lowell raised one hand to her skin and touched it lightly. “Um, Dora,” he began. “This is going to be hard for you to believe. You need to take a look, then let me help you understand what you’re seeing.”

“If you say so.” Dora rolled her eyes and moved in front of the full-length mirror in the hallway. Turning, her eyes widened when her back came into view. Two brilliant pink scars, both in the shape of spread hands, covered her ribs beneath each armpit. She squinted at the reflection. “My skin looks twisted and bumpy, almost like it’s been burnt. What in the world?”

Holding her gaze with a sad expression, Lowell stood in front of her and placed his two hands over the scars—they fit the outlines perfectly. Then he lifted her off the floor. “This is how I held you when we restored your skin with Healing Water. I guess my hands kept it from soaking in, in these two spots.” He lowered her and kissed her lips before settling her back on her feet. “Your skin was like that—well, a lot worse, actually—all over, but the magic of Prescott Woods saved you.”

Dora looked back over her shoulder at her scarred back, then brought her hands to her cheeks and took a deep breath. She rested her palms on his chest and looked up at him. “Tell me, Lowell,” she said quietly. “Tell me everything.”

“Let’s go to your greenhouse and sit by the fountain,” he said, humour crinkling at the corners of his eyes. “And we should go ahead and get something to eat on the way, I guess. Let me grab my kilt…”

Dora pulled her robe back into place and stared after him. “Greenhouse?” she muttered. “I don’t have a greenhouse.”

* * * *

Two hours later, Dora and Lowell sat beside each other on an intricate wicker settee. Their feet, along with a coffee pot, cups, plates and a tray of goodies, rested on the table before them. Behind them, a three-tiered marble fountain burbled and a lush array of potted plants adorned the shelves. Dora stared out the spotless glass wall and over the lawn into Prescott Woods. “So, I have new a new neighbour now,” she said. “Bobby Carter, huh?”

“Yup.” Lowell sipped his coffee. “But all that he can see right now is a house under construction. We’ve placed a glamour on this place so that people don’t get worried about how it came up so fast.”

“Uh-huh. Wouldn’t want everybody demanding elven, gnome and troll labour, would you?” Dora nodded. “And Calvin Prescott doesn’t mind me being here?”

“Well, it’s none of Calvin Prescott’s business, to be honest. The woods belong to my family, and Calvin is just the current human caretaker.” Lowell took Dora’s hand in his and brushed his lips against her knuckles. “But no, Calvin is quite fond of you and is delighted with this turn of events. To be honest, I think he hopes that having you here will help keep intruders away. Even with the magic we use to keep mortals from setting foot in the woods, some idiots still wander in from time to time. Apparently some photographer sneaked in and had a run-in with a leprechaun and his pot of gold not long ago.”

“And it was Calvin’s gardener, Bufo, who helped with this place’s creation? When will I get to meet him?”

Lowell scowled, then shook his head. “Dumbass gnome,” he grunted. “Guess he had a thing for you and was sneaking over, wanting to help out.”

“With planting, cleaning, weeding, decorating. I welcome that kind of help, Lowell.” Dora shot Lowell a sharp look. “But it seems that somebody went barrelling after him and scared him.”

“Creepy little dude, lurking around. Should’ve made his presence known, is all I can say. Not my fault if he’s scared of me.”

“Mm-hm.” Dora picked up a piece of shortbread and nibbled.

“Well, he turned out to be useful in the end, I’ll admit. Not only was he slippery and small enough to get the Healing Waters you needed from deep underground, he was crucial to the reconstruction of your home. Who knew that gnomes had such good memories? He was able to describe your decorations and knick-knacks perfectly to the elves so that they could make copies. Huh. Funny little guys are smarter than they look. He even dug up the roots of your blaze roses and transplanted them here, along with the peonies and irises.” Lowell pressed his lips on her knuckles. “The rest of the guest rooms will be done soon, and of course you can provide all the input you like. They’re taking the day off, at my request, to make sure you get all the rest you need.” He tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear. “You’re taking all this rather well, you know,” he observed. “Your house burnt down and you’re forever tied to Prescott Woods and my family. You can’t ever live anywhere else—doesn’t that bother you?”

Dora considered before she spoke. “Charade is where I belong, Lowell. You may not know this, but it’s my first and only real home. My parents sent me to various boarding schools and summer camps—whichever was cheapest—as I was growing up. They travelled around and didn’t have much money, so I shouldn’t blame them, but I ended up feeling like I had no roots. Then they died and I was left with nothing at all, not even a family house.” She chewed and swallowed a bite of cookie. “I stumbled upon Charade and knew I’d found what I was looking for. I made my own home here, filled it with heirlooms I bought for myself and surrounded myself with a family of friends. I’d never choose to leave this place.”

BOOK: Beds and Blazes
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