Trefoil (22 page)
He wound his arms about her tighter, breathing her fresh lavender scent. “I’m sorry it had to end that way.”
“But it was inevitable. John never would have let me go.”
Nathan’s mouth tightened as he considered this. He owed Will so much for dealing the final blow. If Nathan had done it, would she be in his arms right now?
She turned her lips into his, seeking comfort. He kissed her gently, letting the emotion pass through them. She trembled at his touch, but he knew it was too soon for her. Her shocked mind needed to rest. But he knew that she would heal with the balm of his love.
He locked her to him and held her as she drifted off the sleep once more, both relaxed in the knowledge that no shadow hung over them.
As the plane taxied down the runway, Lillian’s knee bounced. Nathan’s hand rested upon it warmly. She laced her fingers with his, accepting his comfort. The hours ahead of them would be the hardest. Ricardo had been buried at dawn in Hope Cemetery the previous day, laid to rest with messages of love by his friends and a stunning memorial stone pounded out by Nathan. Now they would bury John in the cemetery he visited so often during their lives together—Hollywood Cemetery in Virginia.
Nathan had spent hours working on his stone. It had been shipped off yesterday on a flatbed truck to be set in place in time for the funeral.
Lillian stared out the small window at the bright day, pondering the turn her life had taken. Six months ago, she thought she’d never be happier than with John. But she was wrong. Nathan was her essence. Air. Life.
He squeezed her hand, thumb tracing circles on her palm, raising a strong need in her. She couldn’t wait to get him between the sheets. She followed the lines of his muscular, denim-clad thigh to the leather coat he wore, recalling the lines of the flesh beneath.
Their gazes met and held, promising things to come. But first she must get through the funeral.
When Lillian spotted John’s headstone, her eyes filled with tears. She dropped to her knees in a puff of black skirts, reaching to trace the lines with a forefinger. “Oh, Nate,” she whispered. “It’s perfect.”
The trefoil design, three equal ovals intersecting at the middle, was the symbol of eternal life. It also represented the three of them, John as the Maker, intertwined by blood and the Calling. A Celtic knot pattern edged the stone.
Lillian turned her face into Nathan’s chest.
Thank you.
He gave you to me, and for that, I’ll be eternally grateful.
Dante began speaking for John. Lillian dabbed at her tears, sad but accepting. When she laid a rose on his grave, she kissed it first. Then she turned to Nathan forever.
X,
he said into her soul.
XOXO.
She smiled and stroked his jaw. “Let’s go,” she said.
They all piled into their rental cars again. Nathan took the wheel of a pickup, with Lillian snug against his side. The winter sunshine pooled through the windows and lit upon his pale hair, turning him to a golden god. She felt the need beat within her veins, her breath coming faster, her nipples swelling in response to his nearness.
Before the truck came to a complete stop, he was turning to her, grasping her by the upper arms and crushing his mouth to hers. His lips were demanding and hungry, igniting her instantly.
Minutes later, they crashed into their rented room and fell to the bed. Though it was no feather mattress, she was content with her immortal mate in her arms.
He stripped away her dress, fingers working the flower tattoos on her spine, drawing more desire to the surface. She tore off his tie and unbuttoned his shirt, letting her fingers skin the hard, golden pecs and the lightning bolt tattoo.
He dipped his mouth to her blood medallion, sending shudders through her.
Take me, Nate. Please. Now.
Fingers hooked in her panties, he paused to smile at her. Then the black silk was discarded too, but she stopped him at the garter belt and stockings.
Leave them,
she said, and watched his smile grow.
She surged upward to kiss his tattoo. He gasped at her touch, reaching between her thighs and locating her soaking heat. She squirmed against his hand.
I want it hard. I want your cock buried deep inside me.
Without removing his gaze, he removed the rest of his clothing and stretched atop her.
Y—yearning,
she said as he guided his throbbing cock to her slit. In one easy glide, they were joined. He started to move at once, shoving his rod to the root and slowly, maddeningly removing it to the tip. He pulsed his hips twice, letting his head tease her g-spot. She turned her face sharply aside, eyes pinched shut in ecstasy.
Cream flooded from her pussy as he sank deep inside her again. He grabbed her legs and pressed them over her head, angling further into her hot pussy. He bucked against her hard. His fingers slipped to her ass, pressing the seam, inching toward her netherhole.
Heat built in her core as he probed the tight rim of her anus. He gathered some wetness from her love cavern and circled it once more, feeling the ridges, letting her get used to this new sensation. His cock filled her, driving her toward release, but she needed more. She wanted his fingers stuffing her ass.
He moaned at the thoughts in her head. Gently, he eased one finger inside her, working, swirling, stretching her. A deep pulsing began in her like a drumbeat. He thrust in time, fingers and cock separated by a thin membrane, chaffing against each other until she thought she’d scream.
Oh, God, Lillian. I’m gonna blow in you.
He fucked her hard and fast. His thumb found her hardened clit and crushed it, sending her into spasms of pleasure. Her pussy gripped him hard, sucking the come from him with her pulsations. The contractions penetrated to her anus and spread to her clit, giving her a trigasm. Come shot from her pussy, soaking him.
She rocked against him until the last sensations flowed away. He released her thighs and she circled his waist with them, drawing him down for a kiss. Their tongues moved against each other’s lazily, totally depleted and totally completed.
I’ll never get enough of pleasuring you,
he said, tongue gritty on hers.
Me either. Nathan, I want that ring you gave me at the ball. I want to be joined to you in every possible way.
The bracket appeared about his mouth as he grinned crookedly. His emerald eyes glowed down at her.
Anything for you. My job is to please you.
She held him to her, listening to his breathing slow and feeling his blood cool in her veins. Against her cheek, his immortal tattoo felt like a live wire, enflaming her all over again.
I guess you can’t get enough either,
he said with a rumble of laughter in his chest.
No,
she said.
Z—zealous.
I am a writer of hot, lover of all things coffee, worshipper of the iTouch, and devout reader. Not necessarily in that order. Also, I’m a mother and wife, and I strive to connect with everyone I cross paths with. Ever have a brief interaction with someone—at a restaurant or standing in line at the grocery store—and you will remember that conversation always? I want to be that person you remember. Because I feel that one conversation can change a person’s life and set them on a different course, mentally or emotionally or literally.
On Writing: I work to create relationships and characters my readers can relate to, maybe draw parallels to within their own lives.
On Coffee: Bring it on, and the hotter the better! My husband claims I’m the only person on earth who can drink McDonald’s coffee straight from the cup without letting it cool.
On the iTouch: Don’t mess with my music. It grounds me, keeps me sane. I’m never seen without it stuffed in my bra, with one earbud attached. Most people don’t know I’m listening to it, because the cord is hidden in my long hair.
On Books: I read a smattering of genres. I adore literary fiction, and actually write it under the name Em Peters. Give me any classic. Harry Potter. Sexy paranormal. Even poetry. But I relish each and every Anne Rice novel in existence. The covers are ragged, the pages dog-eared. They are my warm bath, my nightcap. To write, you have to read. I can attest to that.
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