Johnny Gator (8 page)

“I
won’t.”

“Nola…”

“Jean
Batiste, I would never resent you.
 
But
what if we found a way to break the spell, charm,
gris
-gris
, whatever it is?”

“You
got magic?” he asked and when she shook her head, he nodded. “I didn’t think
so. Do you know a
hougan
or a
mambo?
”

Nola
grinned. “Actually, I do.”

Johnny
crossed himself and his lips moved in silent repetition of the prayer, “In the
name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost, amen”.

“Who?” he said.
“Or do I want to know?”

“Tirzah,
my college roommate,” she said. “Her grandmother is one. She lives at Morgan
City, or she did.”

His
dark complexion turned pale enough that he looked sick. “Jesus, you’re
serious.”

“Of
course I am.”

“We
ought not to mess with any of that stuff,” he said. His voice was rougher than
she’d ever heard it. “It’ll get you in trouble. I ought to know.”

“True.
But maybe it’s the way to get you out of this mess.”

“Oh,
me,” he told her. “I don’t feel so good now.”

“Are
you ill?”

 
“Scared,” he admitted.

“I
can call Tirzah.” Nola reached for her purse with her phone tucked inside.

“No!”
he cried, then drew a harsh breath and held it. “Not yet. Let me think about
it.”

She
nodded. “Okay. Are you all right? You look like hell.”

“
Comme
ci,
comme
ca,”
Johnny replied and waggled his hand to indicate not
so
good
.

Concern
replaced her urgent need to do something about his shape-shifting life. “What
do you need? Is there something I can do? Maybe you should go lie down for a while.”

“Won’t
help,” he said. A ghost of his usual grin appeared. “What I need, though, is
you, before you change your mind or run out of here and decide I’m too crazy to
deal with or something.”

Nola
didn’t understand. “I’m here, Johnny.”

The
grin expanded across his face. “
Oui
,
but I need at
least one time to make memories to remember, just in case.”

Johnny
shoved back his chair and offered her his hand.
 
She accepted it, still uncertain if he wanted to dance or talk or
what.
 
When he pulled her against his
bare chest, then planted his mouth on hers, she understood.
 
Nola kissed him back with all the passionate
enthusiasm she could summon.

Heat,
powerful as a flame, leapt between them, and she knew they’d make love.

Johnny
traced her lips with his finger and she shivered with an erotic chill.
 
“This is what I want,
cher
.”

Before
she could speak, his deft hands shucked her T-shirt and revealed her silk
camisole. As he cradled her against his chest, he kissed her throat, then down
to the spot between her breasts.
 
Johnny’s breath burned her skin, and although he hadn’t touched them,
her nipples grew firm.
 
Nola raked her
hands through his hair.
 
He slid one hand
beneath her
cami
, caressed her belly,
then
worked his fingers upward to stroke Nola’s breast.
 
Her sensitive nipples tightened and an
exquisite sensation spiraled through her body, sweet and tense.
 
Johnny lowered one thin strap and bared her
left breast.
 
He suckled and her nipple
radiated with pleasure.
 
Nola thought
she’d come with the intensity of it but steeled herself to wait for much more.

She
savored each second of physical delight but Nola longed for kisses, too.
 
With Johnny’s strong left arm beneath her
head and body, she shifted upward to put her lips against his. “Kiss me.”

“I
can’t say no to a lady,” he murmured as his mouth swooped over hers like an
invading army.
 
His lips attached to hers
with a vacuum seal and clung tight.
 
Nola’s mouth answered his assault with eager exchange.
 
He tasted of the beer they’d drunk and
something more, not quite defined, and she savored it.
 
Johnny’s kiss deepened and in response Nola’s
heartbeat kicked into high gear.
 
Her
pulse rate increased and her breath slowed as they kissed until she felt
dizzy.
 
She enjoyed it too much to quit.

His
mouth brought her to the brink and when Johnny cuddled her against his chest
and managed to find his feet while still holding her in his arms, Nola thought
she’d die with anticipation.
 
He carried
her into the bedroom and put her on the bed.
 
With a dancer’s grace and the speed of a stripper, Johnny removed his
garments and Nola ogled his lean body.
 
His muscles rippled beneath smooth flesh. He radiated plenty of energy
and sensual appeal.
 
Nola reached to
unfasten her jeans but he beat her to the act. “Let me,” Johnny said as he
worked the zipper and pulled the pants down.
 
Johnny caught hold of her silken panties and jerked them out of the
way.
 
Then he lifted her
cami
over her head and left her bare.

Cooler
air from the window blew over her skin and she tingled at the contrast but Nola
wasn’t cold.
 
Heat shimmered between
their bodies, invisible but real enough to keep back any chill.
 
Nola suffered a series of erotic shivers as
Johnny ran his hands over her body.
 
His
calloused fingers brushed over her mound and then fondled her pussy.
 
If he didn’t take her soon, she’d pass out or
die.
 
Need trumped emotion or common
sense.

“Do
me,” Nola begged, aware she sounded like a slut, something she wasn’t and had
never been. “Oh, please, Johnny, please.”

His
already erect dick stiffened as she guided it.
 
In her grasp, his cock burned, hard as a dagger.
 
“Oh, yes,
cher
,
yes.”

Johnny
plunged into her soft space and filled it to maximum capacity.
 
He dove deeper as the walls of her pussy
squeezed to hold him tight.
 
His little
noises, half moans, part groans and uncontrolled outcries, indicated he’d liked
it, so Nola repeated.
 
He pulled almost
out,
then
thrust back in and out in a way which sent
sweet, erotic sensations through Nola’s body like reengaged electricity.
 
The friction brought her closer to the brink,
but Johnny slowed and built toward climax with the skill of a torture master
and superb lover.
 
Nola lost herself in
the lovely rush of a building orgasm and intense physical pleasure. For a few
moments she knew nothing but his body in hers, and nothing else mattered.

He
pulled out and shattered her focus.
 
“Now,” Johnny said in a voice hoarse with effort.
 
This time he went into her hard and quick,
his cock consuming all the space and impaling her.
 
Nola bucked against him, desperate for
release, and her hands clawed his back.
 
If her fingernails were long, she would’ve drawn blood but her
close-clipped nails left long red marks, temporary tattoos.
 
They strained together, skin to skin, flesh
against flesh, as everything hit.
 
They
came in a wild torrent of desire, of delight, and of delicious darkness.
 
Her vision dimmed at the peak and she shouted
with wordless exhilaration before they shuddered and collapsed, fulfilled and
sore.

Awareness
returned in slow stages.
 
Nola sprawled
across the bed and Johnny lay beside her, belly down against the mattress.
 
She trailed a languid hand over his
sweat-soaked skin and he lifted his face to grin.
 
“That’s just the memory I wanted to make,” he
told her.

Sated
and joyful, Nola laughed. “We’ll make plenty more,” she replied. “I guarantee.”

He
laughed, too, at the way she mimicked his Cajun accent.

Tomorrow,
she would convince him they could change his fate.
 
Right now, she wanted to enjoy the moment and
him.

Chapter Six

They
returned to her grandparents’ old house. For the next two days they did little
but enjoy each other in every way possible.
 
They made love, they napped, they fished, and they talked.
 
Johnny cooked Cajun dishes, everything from
red beans and rice to a delicious crawfish
étouffée
.
 
Nola fried the fish they caught and made
biscuits but the question of what they would do and what would happen next
hovered over them like a heavy thunderstorm. On the third morning, she woke
spooned against Johnny, and for the first few moments Nola savored the deepest
contentment she had ever known.
 
Outside,
birds trilled and sang in the tall trees and the rich scent of honeysuckle
drifted in through the open window.

“
Cher.”

Something
dark in his tone eroded her pleasant mood. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,”
Johnny said. “But I think if you want to call your friend or go visit, you
should.”

The
last remnants of her drowsiness vanished. “You mean Tirzah? Then you’ve decided
we should see what possibilities might exist.”

“
Oui.”
He sounded sad.

She
rolled over so she could see his face. “Are you okay?”

“Yes
and no,” Johnny said. His fingers stroked the line of her cheek. “I woke up,
got to thinkin’, and decided.
 
Sometimes
I can control shifting, sometimes not.
 
I
like the way we’re livin’ and I’d hate to turn into a gator again very
soon.
 
I don’t know if anything can
change but I’m willin’ to try.”

A
wave of relief
came
so strong her head whirled, dizzy.
“Oh, I’m glad.
 
I think we can figure something
out, I really do.”

His
fingers traveled along her skin, caressing and stroking. “I hope so, boo.”

****

Her
shoulders ached after six hours behind the wheel, and a headache of major proportions
beat within her until Nola thought it would explode.
 
At Morgan City, Louisiana, she headed down
the town’s main street, an old-fashioned business district still bustling with shops
and stores.
 
On one of the last blocks,
she found a parking spot in front of Candles and Cozies, Tirzah’s shop.
 
Nola found it to be both eclectic and
charming, a blend of New Age, Wiccan, and Martha Stewart.
 
Apparently enough customers did, too, because
so far, it’d been successful.
 

When
she walked inside, a bell over the door chimed and Tirzah looked up from the
counter.
“Hey, girl!”

“Hey.”

“Grand’mere
is in the office,” she said. “Once I told her what you wanted and why, she
insisted on coming to town.
 
She says she
needs to talk to you face to face.”

 
Nola nodded. “Okay, let’s do it.”

In
the moments it took to walk through the shop and into the tiny rear hallway,
then turn left into Tirzah’s office, Nola imagined the most terrible tasks
possible so that maybe whatever the
mambo
suggested wouldn’t seem like the worst.
 
She took a long, slow breath and entered.

“Girl,
I haven’t seen you in a long time,” the old woman said.
 
If Nola remembered right, her name was Odile.
“You’re a woman now, you.”

“Yes.”

“Give
me your hand.”

Nola
obeyed and shut her eyes at Odile’s touch.
 
Her thin, aged skin contrasted with her supple flesh.
 
The old woman sat silent, holding her
hand.
 
Later, Nola would never recall if
it had been five minutes or fifteen or an hour.
 
Time seemed to stop during those moments.
 
It might have been imagination or magic. She
didn’t know which and cared less.

“You’ve
had hard times since I’ve seen you,” Odile said.
 
She released Nola’s hand. “You were hurt and
came to the lake to heal.
 
And you have—and
found something more.”

“Yes,
I have.”

“Tirzah
told me your man’s problem, that he was cursed to become an alligator.
 
This is true, no?”