Page 44 of Stoker's Serenity

“That is so wrong!” I shuddered.

“Now, no, it’s not!” Mrs. Sedgwick cried.

“Oh, no! Not you too, not on that one – if it’s true, I don’t even want to hear about it. That’s so gross!” I made a face.

“No, it’s not, it’s delicious! Your grandmother had good taste!”

Stoker handed her a plate with a hot dog in a bun and some chips. I shook my head.

“No!” Stoker shook his head, drawing out the word while he fixed another plate. “No, she did not.” He looked at me and arched a brow.

“Oh, naked, please.”

“Naked?”

“I do ketchup sometimes, just not in the mood for it right now.”

“As you wish, Orchid. Two naked hot dogs coming right up.”

Dinner was nice. I helped Stoker clean up, the dread of impending confrontation tightening my shoulders and neck in a vice-like grip. He stepped up behind me as I stirred honey into the still-warm tea, the bags having been extracted in a soggy mess onto one of my saucers to one side.

His hands fell lightly to my hips, his nose buried in my hair behind my ear as he breathed me in. I expected him to ask, to want answers, the whole story, but he stood by his word when I said as much.

“I suppose you want to know about yesterday.” My voice shook and he slid his hands up my back, thumbs digging lightly, trying to ease the tension. I gasped, half in pleasure, half in pain. He brought his lips to the side of my neck and kissed me, the pain from the careful kneading of his thumbs into muscles I couldn’t seem to relax melting away under a tingling wash of clear, sensual sensation from his lips.

“I told you I do want to know, but only when you’re ready. Not a minute before. I want you to trust me, Orchid.”

His voice was low, and my eyes drifted shut at the warmth and comfort it held.

“I do trust you,” I whispered. “I gave you the key to my house, didn’t I?”

“Yeah, baby, but that’s nothing,” he murmured and I turned in his arms to look up at him. He rested his hands on the caps of my shoulders and smiled down at me. “It’s the key to your heart that I’m after.”

“Um, uh,” I hedged, unsure what to say, my heart racing, tripping over itself to run to him despite my mind’s best effort to hold it back.

He chuckled lightly and bent to kiss me, catching my lips as much as he’d caught the rest of me off-guard. I couldn’t stop myself if I wanted to, my arms drifting around his neck, my lips wandering across his, tasting the sweet spiciness of my iced tea blend and the sheer maleness of him beneath it. My heart pounded painfully in my chest with just how much I wanted this even as he drew me closer to him with his hands on my ass, smoothing over the tight denim of my form-fitting jeans.

“When you’re with me, you ain’t got no worries, no cares,” he murmured, drawing me back towards my bed.

“Okay,” I whispered.

He stopped us just beside the bed and continued to kiss me, his fingertips sliding around my body, getting the lay of the land, so to speak. With a triumphant little chuckle, he gripped the zipper at the side of my top, lowering it gently. The thick brocade cloth sighed with relief in conjunction with my body as the restricting garment eased its hold on me.

I gasped, a slight moan escaping my lips, to be swallowed utterly by Stoker as his hand slid beneath the parted material on my side. I shuddered with anticipation, pressing myself closer to him, molding myself against the front of his body, my own hands pulling at the hem of his tee, trying to get beneath it to touch his warm skin.

“Stoker…” I whispered breathlessly when his lips moved from mine, along my jaw, before attacking that sweet spot on the side of my neck. I sucked in a sharp breath and arched into him, his hands drifting to my lower back, holding me tightly to him, possessive, protective, and I whimpered with the need to be skin-on-skin.

“I got you, Orchid. Doesn’t matter how much you beg, just know that I’ve got you and we’re doin’ this on my time,” he whispered, burying his hand in the back of my hair, his breath warm in my ear.

I couldn’t form words, but I whined pretty spectacularly. He chuckled, low, dark, and deep, and carried on at his own pace, torturing me sweetly.

14

Stoker…

I unwrapped her slowly, like a present that you were excited for, but already knew what it was. Her hair was thick, silky, and warm between my fingers where I held it at the back of her head, not to hurt her – no, she’d been through more than enough pain, but to give me that little inside edge of control. She responded to the hold I had in her hair, beautifully. Her body was taut, tighter than a guitar string, but so very still, as if she were waiting for me to pluck out a melody, and I had every intention to. One that had her arching off her bed, pressing into my body with that fine trembling that said I was frying every one of her synapses with a pleasure overload.

I had so many plans for my little orchid tonight, plans that would hopefully go off without a hitch and would leave her satiated and too exhausted to think anymore. Leave her in that good place with no worries or cares. Believe you, me, though, I had every intention of getting mine on this journey, too.

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