The Song Remains the Same (32 page)

“Put your legs around me,” he commanded, his voice soft and way too deep for my crotch’s own good. Lifting me up by my rear with his forearm, he used his free hand to position the head of himself at my entrance. “Keep your eyes open.”

As he lowered me inch by lovely inch down the mighty length of him, we kept our eyes locked on each other. When fully seated within me, he let out a sigh that spoke volumes of contentment.

“Let’s not do that again.” His voice was hushed, intimate.

“It was awful,” I admitted. “I didn’t really think that one through.”

His grin was infectious. “Yeah, well, we all have our moments, I guess.”

Lifting up, I slid back down, making both our breaths catch.

Sublime
.

Phil always felt so right, moving inside me, creating me whole. Surrendering to him was as natural as breathing. He filled me in so many ways with this one simple act.

“It wasn’t all awful though,” he stated, his eyes glowing with warmth and affection. “These last few days have been awesome.”

“Yeah,” I breathed, slowly lifting and descending, a gentle wave lazily building toward a shore far on the horizon.

“Some parts were even better than havin’ sex,” he murmured, his hands cupping my bottom, helping to lift and lower me over him.

“Macaroni and cheese can sometimes have that effect.” I smiled. This felt far too good.

“Mmhmm. I don’t know what it is about your food, woman, but damn.”

“It’s called love,” I joked.

His face grew serious. “It
is
. I fell in love with you
so hard
, all over again,” he confessed. “Just bein’ in your company…”

The tingles within me intensified, pulsing with a deep rhythm. His mouth found and fused with mine. Our tempo increased, urging us to bring each other higher.

“I could see you in a whole new light…” he whispered against my lips, his fingertips stroking over my cheek and jaw.

Strong and beautiful, a mountain of a man surging into me, he tried to weld us together with the heat of our mutual passion. Shifting us, Phil stretched us out on the bed, tucking me beneath him, pushing in deeper, touching divinely into his spot.

“I wish it didn’t have to end,” I told him, wonderfully crushed by his weight, his heat encasing me, penetrating to my soul.

With each stroke he delivered, I met him with a thrust of my own.

“Me neither,” he whispered. “I love this. I love what we have. It’s just so…there are no words.”

Arching into him, I weaved my fingers through his hair. The pressure within me was building, lifting me up. My eyes rolled into the back of my head.

“Oohhhh,” I groaned. “Oh God, Phil! You take me—” My breath caught as my thoughts grew bright, and the words were snatched from my mouth by the glittering sparks shooting off inside me.

“I take you where?” he asked, his voice vibrating its way down from my ears to our joined bodies.

A pulsar formed behind my eyes, twinkling with joy, merriment, and every wondrous sort of sensation imaginable.

“Tell me,” he urged, rocking in and out with the rhythm of a mellow tide.

“Beyond heaven!” I gasped, my pelvis thrusting into his. “Phil,
please
!”

“Beyond heaven…” he breathed. “Fuck yeah, Baby Girl. It’s
just
like that.”

“Harder,” I whimpered.

His strokes increased, the head of him pressing into that glorious point that screamed for him and him alone. He felt it pound in response to him, and he groaned low and deep in his chest.

“Take me with you, Kenna…
beyond heaven.
I can’t go there without you. I need you by my side…”

The universe condensed into one intense vibrating wet throb. It pushed down on us from every angle, squeezing us into a single entity for one infinite moment.

“Ohhh!” I cried, feeling all of Phil infuse all of me.

He cried out, too, but it was lost in the vacuum of that space beyond heaven, joining with the pulsar in my mind’s eye.

Then, the orgasm hit, a massive wave of incredible warmth drowning us both. His mouth slammed onto mine, and the roar that passed from him into me shook me to the very core of my existence. My own scream pushed back into him.

Long after, our sweat dried and bodies cooled down, our breaths were deep and relaxed. Phil’s hand smoothed its way down my back. As we were lying on our sides, he was still inside me, my thigh hiked up around his hip. My face rested beneath his, buried in his neck and shoulder.

“What the fuck was that?” he whispered.

“I don’t know.”

His chest began to shake with suppressed laughter. I poked his flat belly, and his laughter erupted.

“I thought I was makin’ love to you, but seriously…I think we just fucked our brains out.”

“I don’t see why we can’t have it both ways.”

“Obviously, we can.” He snorted and gently eased out of me. Rolling onto his back, he gave me an odd look that sent a shiver down my spine.

“What?” I asked.

“I need a beatin’. You up for that?”

I grinned. “Hell yeah. You totally earned one.”

“Too fuckin’ right I did,” he said, giving me a huge dimpled smile. “Use my belt. I wanna be raw as fuck tomorrow.”

Getting up, I retrieved his wide leather belt from his Dickies. “I think I want you standing,” I told him. “Holding on to the footboard.”

Surprise danced over his features. “Huh. Yeah, all right.” Taking his position at the foot of the bed, he wrapped his hands around the wrought iron.

“I want to see how fast you get hard from a beating,” I said, watching the blush creep into his high cheekbones. “Why do you think pain turns you on?”

He tucked his hair behind his ears and shrugged before grabbing on to the footboard once more. “I don’t know. It’s not all types of pain. Just the things you do to me.”

“You don’t know that. Should I have another woman come in and spank you?”

Glaring at me, he snapped, “No.”

Leather cracked over his ass, and he sucked in a sharp breath. Peeking around him, I looked at his cock, seeing it bob slightly as the blood started to surge. He glared again, and I smirked.

Crack!

Biting his lip, he moaned behind his teeth. His copper-colored skin was turning a crispy red. After the first beating, I’d learned to ease up. If I used a lighter hand, he could take more, which was what he wanted in the first place.

Crack!

He liked the noise, too.

Phil jumped each time the leather kissed his skin, and a blissful look would cross his face.

I had my theories, of course. To be honest, it was a little disturbing, but I thought maybe it reminded him of a time when he had had his mother’s attention. Most of the time, Margot Deveraux had ignored her son, but there were times when her full wrath had descended upon him, and she’d beat him in her drunken state. I had a feeling ass-smacking had been her method of discipline, and the little boy in him had taken that as a sign of her giving a shit.

Not that that was what he was after in this instance. Not really. It had taken him a long time to figure out that he liked pain in a sexual way.

Rudely, I checked out his cock again. Engorged, its heaviness was starting to lift.

“Don’t stop,” he begged quietly.

“I won’t.” I pulled back my arm and delivering another blow, this time lower, below his buttocks.

“Oh, fuck!” he hissed, his back and neck arching.

These sort of sessions weren’t frequent in any case.

Crack!

“Oh my God, Baby Girl,” he groaned. “I fuckin’ love that.”

Whizzing through the air, the belt whipped around and licked his inner thigh.

“Shit!” he shouted.

I checked out his cock again. It was fully erect and oozing clear fluid from the bulbous tip.

“You want some more?” I asked.

“Yes, please.”

“Are you going to fuck me after?”

He moaned and dropped his head forward.

“Tell me.”

“Yes.”

Crack!

“What do you plan on doing to me?”

Silence.

“Well?”

“Hush, Baby Girl. I’m tryin’ not to come.”

I laughed outright.

His long hair had slipped from behind his ears, hiding his face from me. Stepping close, I reached up and tucked it back once more. He was smiling sweetly.

“If you won’t tell me, I’ll stop spanking you.”

“I know. But I’m afraid if I start tellin’ you and you’re spankin’ me, then I’m gonna come all over the fuckin’ rug.”

“Yeah, that might be hard to get out.”

Sucking in a deep breath, he said, “I’m gonna fuck you from behind.”

Taking a step back, I let the belt fly.

Crack!

“On all fours.”

Crack!

I’d hit right across the cheeks, and brilliant crimson welts crisscrossed his magnificent bum. I had to admit, the freak in me liked the sight of it very much. My own sex was damp and throbbing for him.

“I’m gonna wrap my fist with your hair.” His eyes closed as he pictured the scene he was reciting for me. “And I’ll fuckin’ pull until you scream.”

Crack!

“Oh…fuuuck…” he moaned. “Just one more, Kenna. Make it a good one.”

I put a bit more strength behind the last one, and the
crack
was painful to the ears as well.

Snatching the belt from my hand, Phil tossed it to the floor, and then he picked me up and tossed me onto the bed.

“Hands and knees,” he snarled.

I obeyed that voice as though it were a command from the gods. His hand connected sharply with my ass, causing me to yelp.

“Fuck, you got the most perfect ass, woman.”

The mushroom cap slicked its way through the lips of my sex, searching for the entrance, and then Phil sank in all the way. As promised, he grabbed a fistful of hair and pulled.

“I ain’t gonna make love to you this time.”

“Good,” I replied, pushing back into his groin. “Make it hurt, babe.”

After smoothly gliding out, he rammed back into me.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he growled. “Most fuckin’ awesome pussy ever created.”

By my hair, he pulled me into a kneeling position and forced my head to the side, so he could claim a tongue-sucking deep kiss. His hand slipped between my thighs, brushing over my clit and then past it to touch where our bodies joined. From hole to clit, he rubbed and then lightly slapped my cunt.

I gasped. Warmth spread from my clit to deep into my core. Phil’s hooded gaze bored into mine.

“Do it again,” I whispered.

He slapped and then rubbed my clit.

Slapped and rubbed.

His mouth devoured mine as he continued to strum and slap my cunt. I could feel the thick calluses on his fingers as he tenderly administered to the delicate, sensitive flesh.

It took a few moments, but I realized he must be hearing something wonderful in his head, and he was playing it with me as his instrument.

“Sing it!” I gasped, almost hearing it for myself.

The beats, the sensuous rhythm, the gentle pluck of his fingers were pulling at me…

“My Other Half. /

You complete me in ways I did not foresee. /

Never have I known you’d create the breath in me.”

His rich timbre caressed the words he had written for me, singing them, creating them in the language of the soul. He’d told me he wasn’t going to make love to me, but I didn’t think he knew how
not
to anymore.

“That you would be the Light that guides /

Or the Voice of Reason in my mind.”

Once more, I was swept up into a realm of complete and utter bliss as his voice carried me, elevating me to heights only he could.

“Phil…” I moaned.

He continued to chant, strum, pump, and slap.

“Spiraling through space and time.”

He moaned, growing impossibly hard inside me.

“As two halves of one soul must do.”

With his free hand, he turned my face toward his. His lips were against my own, his breath filling me.

“We’ll come full circle, you and me.”

Imploding on him as he exploded into me, our mutual cries were muted as our mouths pressed against one another’s.

Whatever had just happened, it had been most profound. I suspected that he’d snatched another bit of my soul for himself. But it was all right. He had replaced it with a bit of his own.

From Houston to Dallas, from Dallas to St. Louis, from St. Louis to Chicago, then to Milwaukee, and to Des Moines before Denver…such had been life on the road.

I’d kept busy with giving people treatments, working with Lewis on the cookbook, and doing fucking laundry. The situation had been made easier, in more ways than one, with the addition of Quinn.

At least the girl wasn’t loud in the sack. She would keep the bus clean as a way of earning her place. Either that, or she was a total head case about hygiene. The woman would scrub the bathroom down on a daily basis, so the head-case thing might actually be a viable deduction.

Over the weeks, I had seen Brigid less and less. She was now fully a part of the Cannibals’ bandwagon. The times I had run into her, she had been nearly unrecognizable. She’d looked exhausted, rundown, and used.