Phoenix Burning (5 page)

Emory’s mouth went dry when Alex pulled open the first button of his fly. The others followed with a muted popping noise. His shaft sprang free. The thatch of close-cropped hair at the base was golden, darker than the hair curling over his forehead.

She swallowed, trying and failing to gain back control of her nervous system. Her hands gripped the edge of the bar, the wood biting deeply into her palms as she watched Alex palm the hard length of his dick and pull it free of his jeans. It seemed to shiver and swell beneath the combined attention of his hand and her eyes, the dusky skin stretching until its length bobbed near his navel. Emory’s mouth watered and her spinning thoughts wondered idly what his sweet skin would taste like if she took all that hardness in her mouth.

“Do you like to watch, Emory?” His tone was mesmerizing.

Unable to speak, she nodded mutely and tried to catch a full breath. There was nothing else for her but this moment—no past, no darkness, nothing but the sight of this beautiful man.

“So you like what you see?”

Another nod, her head felt as if it were somehow disconnected from her body. Alex stroked his length, pumping his hand once, twice, three times. A bead of jeweled liquid crested the head of his cock, and she longed to reach out and feel its satiny texture, to taste his sweet salt essence.

“Is this why you came to Phoenix Rising?” Alex’s voice grew harder, his words pushing at her. “Is this what you were looking for?”

Emory finally found her words. “I don’t know. I just want to move on.”

“Then maybe you should keep on moving.”

Deeply stung by his words, Emory snapped out of the waking coma Alex had induced. But before she could open her mouth to ask what he’d meant, a woman she didn’t recognize slipped behind the bar and approached him.

Tall, svelte, and voluptuous, with short, spiky blond hair, she wore a shimmery black skirt that barely reached the tops of her legs. Black fishnet stockings were anchored to each thigh by red bows attached to her black garters. A tight top accentuated her narrow waist and her cleavage heaved with every breath she took.

“All this for me, baby?” she murmured. “You spoil me.”

Alex’s blue gaze focused on Emory, and a caustic smile kicked up one corner of his mouth right before the blonde sank to her knees, wrapped both hands around his shaft, and took his hard length all the way to the back of her throat. Emory bit her lower lip until it bled. The swirling thoughts and emotions in her head were too much to process. Instant hatred for the blond woman on her knees swept Emory in a tidal wave so fierce it swallowed the darkness whole. She leaped down from the barstool and got out as fast as she could.

Chapter Four

Alex watched in satisfaction as the pixie fled the bar as if the floor were on fire. Hopefully his intimidation tactics would make certain she wouldn’t be back until she grew up a little.

Celeste ran her tongue down his shaft and took his sac in her mouth, sucking on his testicles until he thought he might explode from the intense arousal. She loved giving oral more than any other woman he’d ever been with.

He stabbed his fingers into her short, pale hair and pulled her mouth from his balls to his cock. She swallowed him whole, and Alex felt his dick bump her soft palate before she pulled back for another thrust. Her clever tongue swirled designs on his flange, and Alex felt a twinge in his spine that signaled it was time to stop before he ejaculated a warm stream of semen right across that same tongue. Celeste might have a magic mouth, but Alex needed more.

He dragged her up the length of his body, plucking her off the floor and depositing her on top of the bar. She gave a little moan of anticipation, and Alex watched her gray eyes turn smoky with longing.

“Do you want some attention?”

“Please, Alex. I need you,” she whimpered softly, bracing the heels of her stilettos against the edges of the bar and spreading her legs wide.

Her skirt fell away and Alex rumbled his appreciation of her decision to forgo panties altogether. Her pale pubic curls were cropped close, giving him a perfect view of her pink pussy. He parted her labia and lowered his head to take one long, lazy lick of her sweet cunt.

The moment his tongue touched her softness, his brain registered the salty flavor of her cream and wondered if Emory tasted the same or sweeter, with a tang of wildness to complement her other pixie-like qualities. Alex froze, his body unnaturally still. It was as if someone had poured ice-cold water down his spine.

Shaken, he took Celeste’s clitoris in his mouth and suckled until she squirmed against his face. Always before, he’d been careful not to make her climax with his mouth. She’d made it clear from the beginning that she liked to savor the climb to her climax. Usually he wanted to savor the feel of her tight cunt around him. Now, for the first time, Alex found himself wanting her to come quickly just to satisfy her and get it done.

He increased the motion of his tongue, swirling idle patterns against her labia, suckling them individually before stabbing his tongue into her damp hole.

“Alex, I want you inside me,” she panted. “Don’t! I’m so…so close!”

He brutally increased his pace, sliding two fingers into her pussy and stretching her vagina while he continued his oral assault on her clit. Tremors began deep inside her body, and her back tensed until she arched off the bar.

Visions of Emory’s fine-featured face and the expressive quality of her brown eyes flickered through his head. Alex spun inside a well of doubt as he bypassed Celeste’s protestations and sent her body into orgasm against her wishes.

She screamed his name, both in ecstasy and anger as she came in undulating waves. Her cunt clenched around his fingers, and he stroked her to keep her coming as long as possible, to make up for the lack of mutual satisfaction, to cover up the reality of what had just happened.

“What the fuck?” She leapt down from the bar. Her gray eyes turned to ice. “I’d offer to reciprocate, but judging by what just happened, you’d rather take care of that yourself.”

Without another word, she flounced away from the bar toward the door. Alex sighed and let her go. They’d been fucking after hours for nearly four months, much longer than the usual length of his relationships. It was time to cut her loose anyway.

“I would ask what just happened, but I saw the whole thing and still don’t get it.” Connor’s distinctive gravel voice rolled down the length of the bar.

“Don’t you have better things to do?”

A load of dirty beer mugs clattered to the sink just behind him. “No, Alex. Neither of us has anything better to do.”

Alex shot Jessa a withering stare over his shoulder. “If Connor’s too worn out to give you what you want, I’d be happy to oblige.”

She crossed her arms over her full breasts and rested one hip against the counter. “After watching Celeste huff her way out the door, I somehow doubt it.”

He ended relationships all the time. Why was this one such a big deal? Yet somewhere inside his brain, he registered the fact that what had happened with Celeste
was
an anomaly. When he ended relationships, it was generally because he was bored with the woman, not because some weird gut feeling made him develop an aversion to the idea of fucking them.

“Celeste hung around longer than the usual,” Conner commented. “I’d sort of thought you liked her better than the others.”

“Sorry, brother, just because the long-term thing works for you, doesn’t make it right for me.”

Connor’s black eyes narrowed. “You told me once that you weren’t like me.”

“I’m still not,” Alex snapped. “Jessa is yours, that’s great. We’re all thrilled for you both. But that doesn’t mean I need to settle down with a ball and chain.”

Alex was all too aware that Jessa hadn’t interjected anything into the conversation. That was probably bad. She could be way too perceptive for his peace of mind. It was that damned feminine intuition.

“Who was the girl?” Jessa asked.

Alex deliberately misunderstood. “Celeste? You’ve seen her plenty of times before. You can’t tell the difference anymore?”

“Not the blond mouth fanatic.” Jessa shook her head and pegged Alex with one of her more prying stares. “The other one, with the dark hair and eyes. The one I collided with earlier this evening. I couldn’t place her, but I think I’ve see her before.”

Connor’s gaze shifted back and forth between the two of them. “Didn’t she disappear with Wade for a while?”

“Isn’t that why people come to this bar?” Alex snarled.

Alex cursed as they both turned to stare, surprise evident in the expressions on their faces. He hadn’t intended to inject his words with so much acid. But there it was.

“If that’s why people come to the bar, why give a shit, Alex?” Connor probed.

“I don’t.”

Jessa gave him a slow appraisal. “Is that right?”

“Look, what Emory does on her own time is her business.”

A grin kicked up one corner of Connor’s mouth. “Emory, hmm?”

“Yeah, Emory.” Alex forced himself to seem nonchalant. “And by the way, are you sure Gabriel checked her ID? She looks like a kid!”

Jessa’s soft chuckle sent chills racing up and down his spine.

“What?” Alex demanded.

“You sound protective. And she doesn’t look anything like a child.”

Alex thought of her red-rimmed eyes. The Phoenix
was no place for innocent pixies. “Are you kidding me? She looked like she was barely out of high school.”

Connor shrugged. “I didn’t really notice her, sorry.”

Now Jessa laughed out loud. “No one could ever accuse you of having a wandering eye.”

“Since meeting you, there’s nothing worth looking at,” he told her in his typically direct fashion.

“And that’s why I love you so much.” Jessa crossed to his side, walking into the arms he opened for her.

“I’m not really in the mood to watch the two of you fuck like little bunnies,” Alex said, voice dripping sarcasm. “Can you take it home, please?”

Jessa sighed, pursing her lips together. “Look, Alex, I’m not telling you to run out and buy a ring, all right?”

He gave her a double helping of his middle fingers. “Good, because I’ve already got two rings that remind me to tell people to fuck off and stay out of my business.”

“Watch it,” Connor growled.

Jessa seemed utterly unperturbed by the insult he’d just paid her. “I worry about you, Alex.”

“Well don’t.”

“How many times can you give away little pieces of yourself before there’s nothing left? You play the shiftless womanizer pretty well, but don’t turn your back on something that could be better just because it isn’t wrapped up in the usual package.”

Alex felt his mouth pop open as she turned her back, twined her arms about Connor’s neck, and let him sweep her off her feet into his arms. He carried her out the front door, their foreheads pressed together and exchanging whispered words. The cage slammed shut, and Alex was alone with his thoughts.

* * *

Emory should have hated Alex. She should’ve called Donovan MacIntyre to tell him she’d happily sign a petition to close the Phoenix Rising down for good. Except that wasn’t how she felt at all.

It was dark in the tiny apartment above her shop. Emory rolled to her back, staring at the ceiling above her bed. The sheer drapes were down, the orange light from the street lamps casting long slivers of light across the bedroom.

Her night at the infamous bar had been an emotional roller-coaster ride, but she hadn’t expected anything less. Her sexual issues went back decades. They weren’t going to be fixed in one night. She’d just hoped to make progress. Having actual sex would’ve been wonderful. Her current dry spell had lasted years. Even before that she’d only managed a handful of encounters, all awkward and ending in tears.

She thought of the song, the one her mother had sung to her and Chris as children. It was an old folk song from the hills where they’d grown up, but Emory had always known it had deeper meaning to her mother. Liza Banks had been sorry she had to raise her twins with Reverend Jonathan Banks for a father. It had just taken Emory a while to realize her mother had actually wondered if her children wouldn’t have been better off dead.

The familiar tread of her brother’s feet on the stairs warned her she was about to have company.

“There you are. You weren’t answering your phone.” Chris plopped down on the bed to lie on his back beside her.

There was no point trying to hide what she’d done. “I went to the Phoenix Rising.”

Her twin was silent, turning his head to see her face.

“It’s not what you think.”

“You’re a grown woman, Em. It doesn’t matter what I think. Did you find what you were looking for?”

She thought of her miserable failed attempt to screw around with a stranger named Wade. “Not exactly.”

“Maybe you should give therapy another try.”

Emory had hated her last therapist with a passion. Maybe the right person could help her put the past to rest and move on, but she’d yet to meet someone qualified to do it. “I’m tired of them treating me like a victim of sexual abuse.”

“You are.”

“No, I’m not. Our father never molested me or tried to force himself on me.”

His hand found hers, their fingers lacing together. “He still abused you, Em. He abused both of us, and Mom, too.”

“I can’t get him out of my head. I keep hearing him tell me that no one would ever want me, how dirty I was, how shameful and sinful I’d always be.” She whispered. “I thought if the relationship was casual it wouldn’t matter. I’ve always gotten hung up on the idea of committing myself to someone permanently. I can’t stand the idea of being tied to some asshole like Mom is.”

“And now?”

“It’s like our father is sitting on my shoulder, giving me a sermon on the evils of fornication. He’s still damning me to the eternal fires of hell from hundreds of miles away.” She made light of the suffocating darkness that dogged her physical encounters, not wanting Chris to see how deeply affected she was by the memory of her father’s condemnations.