Page 27 of Ride Me

“Come for me, bebe. Let me see you. Let me watch you come apart for me. Only for me.”

Her body obeyed his command. Her fingers slipped through her slick arousal, electricity shooting up her spine as she climaxed, imagining his large, hot hands on her body. The air whipped around her, intensifying every sensation, every shocking jolt of the powerful release.

That was nothing compared to what you’ll get when you ask for me.

She ignored the voice and collapsed, grateful for the chair beside her as her shaking legs gave out. “Rousseau. That was…”

“Yes.”

The intense satisfaction in his voice made her focus, hungry to watch his orgasm as he’d witnessed hers. But he was standing at the window, one hand holding the phone to his ear, the other still gripped his erection.

He hadn’t come?

She wanted to ask why but he spoke before she could. “Thank you, Allegra.”

“But you didn’t—”

“You might not understand or believe this, but it feels like I haven’t had the honor of pleasuring a woman in close to seven years. Believe me, I’m grateful.”

She heard the emphasis as he separated himself from Bone Daddy. “Seven years? But you’ve—maybe alone or in the shower you’ve—haven’t you?”

“No.” She hated the resignation in his tone. “I can’t. But seeing you like that is worth every second I’ll be spending under a cold shower in my future.”

“I don’t understand. Rousseau, I want—”

“Sleep well, Allegra.” He hung up the phone and turned away from the window, disappearing from her view. Her special breeze had disappeared the moment he’d severed the connection, leaving Allegra completely alone with her heart still pounding. Naked in every way.

He’d hung up on her. Given her the sexiest, and first, phone sex experience of her life, then hung up without an explanation. Talk about a cold shower.

Pain throbbed in her leg, interrupting her silent pique. She turned off the phone, walking slowly toward the bathroom. She needed a hot bath, and some of Mambo Toussaint’s special bath oils.

She wasn’t completely sure, but it sounded like Rousseau said he hadn’t had an orgasm in seven years. But that wasn’t possible, was it? Everyone knew how many women he’d had in his bed. He was infamous, and his partners weren’t shy about sharing details. Not to mention the fact that he was tied to a highly-sexed spirit who wouldn’t allow him to abstain, even if he wanted to.

“If you need more help from the powers that be.”She glanced over at her bed and saw the small velvet pouch Ben had given her from Michelle’s mother. Maybe that would help her get a few answers. She definitely needed them. Now more than ever.

She knew it was a dream. She was skydiving, falling fast through the air toward a far too familiar line of trees. She hadn’t had this nightmare for months. Why now?

The wind seemed to surround her, slowing her descent and cushioning her body until she was floating safely to the ground.

Definitely a dream.

Darkness surrounded her, but she saw the flickering light of a fire through the trees. Someone was here. Another change. She took off her gear and started heading toward the light. As she approached, she could hear music and chanting. Ten voices? A hundred? From the sound of it, it was a large gathering. Maybe campers.

If they’d been there the night she’d spent tangled in a tree, she would have noticed. Her injuries wouldn’t have been so bad. She might not have needed surgery at all.

She pushed through some low-hanging branches and found herself in a clearing. There was no party. No campers or music. Just one old man sitting alone by the fire.

“Hello?”

His looks were striking. Smooth ebony skin, a shock of white hair, and a closely trimmed beard to match. He didn’t look up at her call, continuing to stare into the fire as if it held the answers to the universe.

He certainly didn’t look dressed for a night in the forest. His suit pants were pressed, his suspenders were snappy, and his shoes were impossibly shiny, as if he’d been airlifted in instead of walking.

“You’re a writer.” He threw some moss into the fire, feeding it. “Observant enough to know that what things look like, and what they are, are rarely the same thing.”

Another mind reader.

She sat down on the log beside him, sensing instinctively that he could be trusted. “I’m dreaming again. I don’t know why I always come back here.”

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