Possession
Page 37
“Things change. People can develop conditions that make sex difficult, or go on medications that complicate arousal.”
Unfortunately, this was one of the corners she and her therapist occasionally came to, where the reality didn’t fit the fake construction: Immortals like Adrian didn’t need Cialis or Viagra; they didn’t roll over one morning with circulatory problems or go on enough antidepressants to deflate their dicks. It was one of the perks of not living under the burden of an expiration date.
“Devina, you wouldn’t expect a case of diabetes to be cured by a seductive glance, would you? Of course not. So it could well be the same here. Perhaps, no matter what you or he wanted or did, intercourse would have been impossible.”
There were a lot of times when the woman’s advice was spot-on. This was not one of them, unfortunately.
“Did you talk with him about what happened and how it made you feel?”
“No.” Devina shook her head. “He had to go, and I dressed and followed him out. Then we spent some time together.”
They’d ended up back on Earth, at a Target, of all things. She’d followed him around as he’d picked out clothes from the young women’s racks, hideous little things that were made with all the sophistication and skill of an eight-year-old’s paper airplanes.
She’d guessed that they were for darling Sissy—which was the only reason Devina hadn’t pulled rank and dragged him over to Saks. The worse that girl looked, the better.
Actually, on the humiliation scale, it was hard to know what ranked worse—all that flaccid, or the shopping excursion from hell. And it was strange—the closest Devina had ever come to being cock-whipped was when she was with Jim. But Adrian’s lack of response had been so upsetting, she hadn’t known what to do with herself. She’d been brought to heel like a dog, walking around those pinwheels full of cheap clothes behind him, docile as a retriever.
After that? He was hungry—so they’d gone to TGIFriday’s in Lucas Square.
She hadn’t even been able to enjoy the agog stares of the other patrons when she’d walked in with all her couture.
The potato skins with bacon hadn’t been half-bad, though. And the fudge brownie had lifted her spirits a little, although that hadn’t lasted past the sugar buzz.
Sitting across from each other, they hadn’t talked much, but what was there to be said? Being enemies was a fun thing, except when it wasn’t.
“You know, Devina, it’s possible he’s blaming himself in an equally erroneous fashion.”
“I doubt it. He’d seemed fine, actually.” Which was one more ass slapper. That Adrian hadn’t been bothered one way or the other had been an insult. You’d think he’d have the grace to be even slightly affected.
He’d come to her for the sex, after all.
“Are you going to see him again?”
Devina shrugged. “Undoubtedly I will.” She smoothed her short skirt again. “I’m not sure I want to though. Not in a big hurry to relive all of that.”
“You know, Devina, I have to ask. Is there anything else that’s going on for you right now? Sometimes our reactions are compounded by…”
As the woman droned on, an image of Jim Heron looking at Sissy with possession in his eyes came to mind. Talk about your stingers. And maybe the therapist had a point. Adrian was second in line at this point on her Metaphysical Fuckable List—and having a bad experience with him would have mattered so much less if the angel at the top hadn’t been so enamored of someone else.
Set a bad stage, as it were.
“… sorry you’re being challenged like this, but it presents an opportunity to develop new coping skills. I imagine you’re feeling very triggered?”
As a matter of fact, she was. The compulsive need to perform an extensive review of her collection, the whole thing, was trembling on the edge of her consciousness, about to become an earthquake that took over every thought or feeling or priority.
“My suggestion,” the therapist interjected, “is to do something that makes you feel beautiful, instead. Maybe it’s journaling about all your positive attributes, your accomplishments, your successes. Perhaps it’s meeting up with a friend and having a nice meal. A yoga class.”
Ha. Been there, done that. And it had made her want to commit murder—no doubt not the direction that the therapist was going in.
“I want you to think in terms of self-affirming things. It is important for you to reach out beyond the compulsions—to find solace and purpose within yourself and your support system. Be creative. Have fun with it. But above all, know that the more you stretch yourself to explore your feelings, tolerating the bad ones and discovering that they too shall pass, the stronger and better off you will be. You can do this, Devina. I have faith in you.”
Devina looked across at the woman. Given that her therapist wore a cross around her thick neck, one could extrapolate the irony if she knew that she’d just tried to inspire a demon.
Surprise!
And, you know, Devina was almost tempted to drop her slipcover, just to see the reaction—and to give some credibility to her statements about how hideous she really was. But what stopped her was all the dead-serious in the woman’s face. The therapist honestly believed everything she was saying, and that was kind of touching.
“So I just leave here …” Devina cleared her throat. “And…”
“Anything that keeps you from acting on a ritual. The best thing to do, especially as denying the urges becomes more uncomfortable, is to go about your life. Focus on self-affirmation, and activities that give you a sense of mastery. Anything that will root you in all of the strength you possess. You can do this.”
“Be creative. Have fun with it, huh?”
As the therapist nodded like a bobblehead doll, all Devina could think of was, God, she’d rather go back to Target.
Chapter Thirty-one
“It’s after hours. The door’s locked.”
As Cait jogged the boathouse’s combination lock, the disappointment she was feeling was obvious in her voice. But come on, of course the facility was still going to be mostly off-limits in late April.
“Here.” Duke stepped into the light thrown by the fixture overhead. “Let me take a look at it.”
“It’s totally locked.”
Damn it. Where could they go now? There was nothing else around, really—not unless they wanted to be picked up on public-obscenity charges. It looked like they were going to have to go back and get their cars—
Click. Creak.
Hello, wide-open.
Duke motioned the way in gallantly.
“How did you…”
“I work for the city during the day. This is an officially owned Caldwell property, and gee, what do you know, I have the master combination to all the locks.”
“You are incredible.”
Those lids dropped low again. “You haven’t seen anything yet.”
In an instant, Cait was totally aroused, and as she brushed past him, she deliberately let her shoulder move across his chest. He hadn’t bothered to bring a coat, and his invincibility with the weather made her wonder if he couldn’t lift cars, stop bullets with his teeth, leap buildings in a—
Okay, now she was being ridiculous.
Inside, it was dark as night, the illumination from the lights along the roofline no match for the grime-covered windows. The only thing that registered was the sound of the water clapping under the cribs—a good reminder to watch where you were going so you didn’t fall in—
“Ouch!”
Or run into something.
“Are you okay?” he said right behind her.
“Yes, I hit a…”
Well, she wasn’t too sure what the thing was, but hard-as-a-rock certainly covered it. Reaching out, she found the sharp vertical edge that had caught her right in the shin, and then a long, widening rail—ah, yes, a canoe, she thought as she felt around.
“Come here,” Duke growled, spinning her around. “You can hang on to me.”
Cait needed no other invitation. She went right against his powerful body, arms rising up so she could grab the back of his neck and bring his mouth to hers. Their lips met in a clash of flesh, the sexual need exploding between them, everything going even more desperate than it had the night before: She was only dimly aware of him kicking the door shut. And after that, nothing mattered but what they were doing.
Duke’s hands were rough as they ripped the bottom of her shirt free from her skirt, and then his broad palms were on her breasts.
“Oh, yeah, that’s what I want,” he bit out before melding his lips to her own again.
The kissing was utterly delicious, the slide of velvet on velvet as intoxicating as the way he was caressing her—but he broke up the dueling of their tongues and pulled back all too soon. Fortunately, the relocation of that mouth of his was so not a problem, considering where he went next.
Duke beelined for what he had bared, and as warm, wet suction found her nipple, Cait closed her eyes and went limp in his powerful grip. As he licked and teased at her, his strong arms gathered her up off the dock, and held her aloft.
Unlike her, he knew exactly where to go: A moment later, she was laid down on a soft pile of boat cushions.
“This okay?” he asked.
“Lay me on asphalt, concrete, wherever. Just come with me.”
“Oh, I will. You can bet your life on that one.”
His mouth was back on hers a split second later, his tongue entering her mouth, penetrating her as one of his knees pushed in between her legs and then his h*ps thrust against her—he was utterly erect, his arousal pushing into her core, the barriers of their clothes frustrating to the point of pain.
As she dug her nails into his upper arms, her scrambled brain incapable of figuring out zippers and button flies, she was out of her mind and totally aware at the same time: He tasted of fresh coffee, and smelled of some kind of woodsy cologne, and as she clawed at one of his shoulders, his body was like a steel cable.
Just as she had remembered.
As he shoved her jacket aside and pushed up her shirt even further, his pelvis surged against her, finding a rhythm that would be oh, so much more effective if someone, anyone just got his pants down to his thighs. Taking the initiative, she shifted her hands downward, her only clear thought that she’d rip things in half if she had to—
Duke positively purred as she rubbed against his arousal, her hands sloppy as she popped the first of what proved to be, yup, just her luck, a button fly.
“I have what we need,” he grunted as he pushed himself off of her to help.
Yes, you certainly do, she thought as he shucked what covered him and exposed his—
She nearly laughed. So much for that whole cold-shrinks thing.
And then she was all business. She gripped his girth—
“Oh … f**king hell, I need this.”
His words devolved into nothing but guttural syllables as she stroked up and down his shaft. He even fell against her, as if his arms had lost their strength.
“Wait, wait.” He grabbed her hand and squeezed, stilling her. “I’m going to come if you keep that up.”
“I thought that was the point.” As her eyes had adjusted, she could make out part of his harsh face in the dimness. “Or have I misread this?”
Wow, she actually sounded kind of tantalizing. Go her.
And clearly, it worked—he kissed her hard, and then groaned, “Inside of you. I want you to feel me orgasm.”
Rearing up over her, he reached into his back pocket and took out a foil square. Biting through the wrapper, just as he had the night before, he rolled the condom onto himself as she swept off her panties.
She all but yanked him back down.
This time, he was the one who joined them, the blunt head of his erection pushing into her, guided by his steady hand—and then there was a thrust, a deep one. But there was no pain. Her body was more than ready—all she felt was that incredible stretching and sense of fullness.
As Duke dropped his head into her neck, she smoothed down to the small of his back and arched under him so that they were linked even more fully. With perfect synchronicity, they began to move together, the surging penetrations increasing in power and tempo.
No way to kiss. Too fast and furious.
This was going to be over so soon, too soon, but she had no self control—
“Oh, God,” she shouted.
The release shattered through her, sending her flying even though her corporeal form never left the Earth. And Duke was only a moment behind her, his h*ps jackhammering into her and then freezing as he locked in against her core.
Deep inside of her, just as he’d told her, his arousal kicked, the spasming cueing off another orgasm for her.
Unfortunately, this was one of the corners she and her therapist occasionally came to, where the reality didn’t fit the fake construction: Immortals like Adrian didn’t need Cialis or Viagra; they didn’t roll over one morning with circulatory problems or go on enough antidepressants to deflate their dicks. It was one of the perks of not living under the burden of an expiration date.
“Devina, you wouldn’t expect a case of diabetes to be cured by a seductive glance, would you? Of course not. So it could well be the same here. Perhaps, no matter what you or he wanted or did, intercourse would have been impossible.”
There were a lot of times when the woman’s advice was spot-on. This was not one of them, unfortunately.
“Did you talk with him about what happened and how it made you feel?”
“No.” Devina shook her head. “He had to go, and I dressed and followed him out. Then we spent some time together.”
They’d ended up back on Earth, at a Target, of all things. She’d followed him around as he’d picked out clothes from the young women’s racks, hideous little things that were made with all the sophistication and skill of an eight-year-old’s paper airplanes.
She’d guessed that they were for darling Sissy—which was the only reason Devina hadn’t pulled rank and dragged him over to Saks. The worse that girl looked, the better.
Actually, on the humiliation scale, it was hard to know what ranked worse—all that flaccid, or the shopping excursion from hell. And it was strange—the closest Devina had ever come to being cock-whipped was when she was with Jim. But Adrian’s lack of response had been so upsetting, she hadn’t known what to do with herself. She’d been brought to heel like a dog, walking around those pinwheels full of cheap clothes behind him, docile as a retriever.
After that? He was hungry—so they’d gone to TGIFriday’s in Lucas Square.
She hadn’t even been able to enjoy the agog stares of the other patrons when she’d walked in with all her couture.
The potato skins with bacon hadn’t been half-bad, though. And the fudge brownie had lifted her spirits a little, although that hadn’t lasted past the sugar buzz.
Sitting across from each other, they hadn’t talked much, but what was there to be said? Being enemies was a fun thing, except when it wasn’t.
“You know, Devina, it’s possible he’s blaming himself in an equally erroneous fashion.”
“I doubt it. He’d seemed fine, actually.” Which was one more ass slapper. That Adrian hadn’t been bothered one way or the other had been an insult. You’d think he’d have the grace to be even slightly affected.
He’d come to her for the sex, after all.
“Are you going to see him again?”
Devina shrugged. “Undoubtedly I will.” She smoothed her short skirt again. “I’m not sure I want to though. Not in a big hurry to relive all of that.”
“You know, Devina, I have to ask. Is there anything else that’s going on for you right now? Sometimes our reactions are compounded by…”
As the woman droned on, an image of Jim Heron looking at Sissy with possession in his eyes came to mind. Talk about your stingers. And maybe the therapist had a point. Adrian was second in line at this point on her Metaphysical Fuckable List—and having a bad experience with him would have mattered so much less if the angel at the top hadn’t been so enamored of someone else.
Set a bad stage, as it were.
“… sorry you’re being challenged like this, but it presents an opportunity to develop new coping skills. I imagine you’re feeling very triggered?”
As a matter of fact, she was. The compulsive need to perform an extensive review of her collection, the whole thing, was trembling on the edge of her consciousness, about to become an earthquake that took over every thought or feeling or priority.
“My suggestion,” the therapist interjected, “is to do something that makes you feel beautiful, instead. Maybe it’s journaling about all your positive attributes, your accomplishments, your successes. Perhaps it’s meeting up with a friend and having a nice meal. A yoga class.”
Ha. Been there, done that. And it had made her want to commit murder—no doubt not the direction that the therapist was going in.
“I want you to think in terms of self-affirming things. It is important for you to reach out beyond the compulsions—to find solace and purpose within yourself and your support system. Be creative. Have fun with it. But above all, know that the more you stretch yourself to explore your feelings, tolerating the bad ones and discovering that they too shall pass, the stronger and better off you will be. You can do this, Devina. I have faith in you.”
Devina looked across at the woman. Given that her therapist wore a cross around her thick neck, one could extrapolate the irony if she knew that she’d just tried to inspire a demon.
Surprise!
And, you know, Devina was almost tempted to drop her slipcover, just to see the reaction—and to give some credibility to her statements about how hideous she really was. But what stopped her was all the dead-serious in the woman’s face. The therapist honestly believed everything she was saying, and that was kind of touching.
“So I just leave here …” Devina cleared her throat. “And…”
“Anything that keeps you from acting on a ritual. The best thing to do, especially as denying the urges becomes more uncomfortable, is to go about your life. Focus on self-affirmation, and activities that give you a sense of mastery. Anything that will root you in all of the strength you possess. You can do this.”
“Be creative. Have fun with it, huh?”
As the therapist nodded like a bobblehead doll, all Devina could think of was, God, she’d rather go back to Target.
Chapter Thirty-one
“It’s after hours. The door’s locked.”
As Cait jogged the boathouse’s combination lock, the disappointment she was feeling was obvious in her voice. But come on, of course the facility was still going to be mostly off-limits in late April.
“Here.” Duke stepped into the light thrown by the fixture overhead. “Let me take a look at it.”
“It’s totally locked.”
Damn it. Where could they go now? There was nothing else around, really—not unless they wanted to be picked up on public-obscenity charges. It looked like they were going to have to go back and get their cars—
Click. Creak.
Hello, wide-open.
Duke motioned the way in gallantly.
“How did you…”
“I work for the city during the day. This is an officially owned Caldwell property, and gee, what do you know, I have the master combination to all the locks.”
“You are incredible.”
Those lids dropped low again. “You haven’t seen anything yet.”
In an instant, Cait was totally aroused, and as she brushed past him, she deliberately let her shoulder move across his chest. He hadn’t bothered to bring a coat, and his invincibility with the weather made her wonder if he couldn’t lift cars, stop bullets with his teeth, leap buildings in a—
Okay, now she was being ridiculous.
Inside, it was dark as night, the illumination from the lights along the roofline no match for the grime-covered windows. The only thing that registered was the sound of the water clapping under the cribs—a good reminder to watch where you were going so you didn’t fall in—
“Ouch!”
Or run into something.
“Are you okay?” he said right behind her.
“Yes, I hit a…”
Well, she wasn’t too sure what the thing was, but hard-as-a-rock certainly covered it. Reaching out, she found the sharp vertical edge that had caught her right in the shin, and then a long, widening rail—ah, yes, a canoe, she thought as she felt around.
“Come here,” Duke growled, spinning her around. “You can hang on to me.”
Cait needed no other invitation. She went right against his powerful body, arms rising up so she could grab the back of his neck and bring his mouth to hers. Their lips met in a clash of flesh, the sexual need exploding between them, everything going even more desperate than it had the night before: She was only dimly aware of him kicking the door shut. And after that, nothing mattered but what they were doing.
Duke’s hands were rough as they ripped the bottom of her shirt free from her skirt, and then his broad palms were on her breasts.
“Oh, yeah, that’s what I want,” he bit out before melding his lips to her own again.
The kissing was utterly delicious, the slide of velvet on velvet as intoxicating as the way he was caressing her—but he broke up the dueling of their tongues and pulled back all too soon. Fortunately, the relocation of that mouth of his was so not a problem, considering where he went next.
Duke beelined for what he had bared, and as warm, wet suction found her nipple, Cait closed her eyes and went limp in his powerful grip. As he licked and teased at her, his strong arms gathered her up off the dock, and held her aloft.
Unlike her, he knew exactly where to go: A moment later, she was laid down on a soft pile of boat cushions.
“This okay?” he asked.
“Lay me on asphalt, concrete, wherever. Just come with me.”
“Oh, I will. You can bet your life on that one.”
His mouth was back on hers a split second later, his tongue entering her mouth, penetrating her as one of his knees pushed in between her legs and then his h*ps thrust against her—he was utterly erect, his arousal pushing into her core, the barriers of their clothes frustrating to the point of pain.
As she dug her nails into his upper arms, her scrambled brain incapable of figuring out zippers and button flies, she was out of her mind and totally aware at the same time: He tasted of fresh coffee, and smelled of some kind of woodsy cologne, and as she clawed at one of his shoulders, his body was like a steel cable.
Just as she had remembered.
As he shoved her jacket aside and pushed up her shirt even further, his pelvis surged against her, finding a rhythm that would be oh, so much more effective if someone, anyone just got his pants down to his thighs. Taking the initiative, she shifted her hands downward, her only clear thought that she’d rip things in half if she had to—
Duke positively purred as she rubbed against his arousal, her hands sloppy as she popped the first of what proved to be, yup, just her luck, a button fly.
“I have what we need,” he grunted as he pushed himself off of her to help.
Yes, you certainly do, she thought as he shucked what covered him and exposed his—
She nearly laughed. So much for that whole cold-shrinks thing.
And then she was all business. She gripped his girth—
“Oh … f**king hell, I need this.”
His words devolved into nothing but guttural syllables as she stroked up and down his shaft. He even fell against her, as if his arms had lost their strength.
“Wait, wait.” He grabbed her hand and squeezed, stilling her. “I’m going to come if you keep that up.”
“I thought that was the point.” As her eyes had adjusted, she could make out part of his harsh face in the dimness. “Or have I misread this?”
Wow, she actually sounded kind of tantalizing. Go her.
And clearly, it worked—he kissed her hard, and then groaned, “Inside of you. I want you to feel me orgasm.”
Rearing up over her, he reached into his back pocket and took out a foil square. Biting through the wrapper, just as he had the night before, he rolled the condom onto himself as she swept off her panties.
She all but yanked him back down.
This time, he was the one who joined them, the blunt head of his erection pushing into her, guided by his steady hand—and then there was a thrust, a deep one. But there was no pain. Her body was more than ready—all she felt was that incredible stretching and sense of fullness.
As Duke dropped his head into her neck, she smoothed down to the small of his back and arched under him so that they were linked even more fully. With perfect synchronicity, they began to move together, the surging penetrations increasing in power and tempo.
No way to kiss. Too fast and furious.
This was going to be over so soon, too soon, but she had no self control—
“Oh, God,” she shouted.
The release shattered through her, sending her flying even though her corporeal form never left the Earth. And Duke was only a moment behind her, his h*ps jackhammering into her and then freezing as he locked in against her core.
Deep inside of her, just as he’d told her, his arousal kicked, the spasming cueing off another orgasm for her.
