Divine Desire: A Lotus House Novel: Book Three Page 16

  Relax, Atlas. You’re just jealous.

  And damn it all to hell, I was jealous. Jealous of a man who claimed he cared for Mila as a sister. But it was her reaction to him that took the cake. When I’d arrived yesterday, I had to snuggle her, kiss her, and even then, she barely returned the gesture. Muscle car Nick rolls up, and she ran into his arms like one of those sappy movies where the couples are running toward one another on a beach, just like long lost lovers. Did she secretly have a hang-up on the guy, or was it platonic? He did only kiss her forehead, but maybe he wasn’t that into her, and she was into him and just taking any scraps she could get?

  Argh! No way. There was no way on God’s green earth a man could look at Mila Mercado and not want to put his hands all over her sexy body or kiss those plump lips and squeeze that smokin’ hot ass. I’d have to ask her more about him. Just the thought that she had that type of affection for another man grated on my last nerve. And therein lay the biggest problem. This woman was getting under my skin. She’d scraped her claws down my skin and burrowed in, and no amount of attempting to convince myself that she was just a hot babe worked. Mila was more. More than a girl I’d bang and bolt on. However, I wasn’t so sure she felt the same. Her natural inclination had been to back off, whereas I’d been pushing forward. At least she’d agreed to the date. After today, and hopefully tonight, there would be no question as to where I saw us going.

  I rolled up to her house in my old ass Jeep Cherokee, not sex on wheels like Nick’s car. Back in 2002, my Jeep would have been a slammin’ car. I’d scored it off a guy selling it on Craigslist a few years ago. The dude was moving and offering it at a great deal. Now almost fifteen years old, the thing had seen better days, but even with over a hundred and fifty thousand miles, it still ran well, and I was able to put down the back seats and store my musical equipment safely. It worked and got me from point A to B. I couldn’t complain. Only now that I was picking up Mila in it did I question whether it was good enough.

  Before I could even get out of my car, Mila was pulling open the passenger side door.

  “Hey, nice Jeep,” she commented, hopping in.

  “You know, I would have come to the door and picked you up properly for our date.” I handed her the bouquet of wildflowers.

  Mila sniffed the flowers, closed her eyes, and sighed, gifting me a sweet girlie smile before she leaned behind me and set the flowers neatly in the back seat. “Is that what this is? A proper date?” She grinned, her caramel-colored eyes reflecting the sun’s light back at me.

  I shrugged. “Yeah. It is.”

  She smacked her denim-clad legs and rubbed her hands down them. “Well, I guess there’s a first time for everything.”

  I flicked on the blinker and moved out down the street. “This is your first date?”

  She shrugged. “Yeah, I guess. I mean unless you count the guys I dated in high school.”

  “Huh. How old are you?”

  She snickered. “Didn’t your mama teach you to never ask a woman’s age?” She grinned. “Twenty-six. You?”

  “Twenty-eight. At least I’ve taken women out. Not in the past few years, since I’ve been so focused on my music, but damn. I think maybe you are more of a workaholic than I am.”

  She quirked her head to the side. “Is it weird that I don’t take offense to that?”

  I laughed and grabbed her hand, interlacing our fingers so that our palms were flat against one another’s. The zap of energy jolted through our hands and up my arm. I glanced at her. She, too, was staring down at our hands. I moved them so that her hand was resting on my thigh. For some reason, I just needed to feel her in every way that I could. It was as though I needed to solidify that this was real.

  “So, where are you taking me?” Her voice was low and raspy and sent another thrill through me, which got the attention of my dick instantly.

  I adjusted my lower half, trying to not jostle her hand more than necessary for fear she’d spook. My girl was a bit twitchy when it came to physical displays of affection. Unless of course I’d had my cock, mouth, or fingers buried inside her. Then she was all for it.

  “Can’t stand not knowing? Just relax. I got this. You, hotness, are not in control.” I lifted our hands and laid a few kisses on the top of her palm.

  While I was tending to her hand, she’d unbuckled her seatbelt, scooched as close to my side as she could get with the console in the center, and put her other hand over my cock and squeezed.

  I groaned in pleasure. “Fuck.”

  She nuzzled against my neck, her hand rubbing my cock over and over making me hard as stone. My jeans became far too tight and my heart raced. I held the steering wheel with a viselike grip, taking turns breathing and focusing on the road and my cock in her hot little hand.

  “Jesus. You’re going to cut off the circulation in my dick,” I growled in a loving way.

  She chuckled. “Oh, poor baby. Let me fix that,” she cooed, unbuttoning and unzipping my pants before pulling out my hardened shaft in record time. “All better?”

  “Fuck yes!” I grated through my teeth the second my erection hit cool air. Relief the size of my car rushed over my groin when she wrapped her hand around my length and gave it a little tug. I jerked my hips but kept my hands firmly on the wheel, knuckles whitening with the effort.

  Chills of pleasure started at my dick and roared up my spine. Mila jacked me with the perfect amount of grip and fluidity. She used her thumb to smear the pre-cum leaking from the top all over the shaft, lubricating her movements. Her thumb shifted down from the crown where she tickled the underside all while kissing, licking my neck and jaw, basically, driving me out of my mind with lust. I tried to focus as much of my attention on the car moving forward, making the right turns, following the speed limit all the while being jacked by a fucking goddess.

  “Where are we going, curly?” She stroked my length and then cupped my balls exactly the way I liked best—firm and with intent.

  I grunted. “Not telling,” came out as a growl as I tried to kiss her, keep my eyes on the road, and not move my dick even a centimeter from her talented hand. I sucked in a huge lungful of air and ground my teeth to stave off the impending orgasm that wanted to fight its way up my cock and pour out the tip like fucking Niagara Falls. Goddamned wildcat.

  She hummed in my ear. “Do you want to come?”

  I moaned and lost all ability to play her game, so focused on my own pleasure rather than keeping the control. “You know I do.” My voice came out ragged and strained. Every tug made it harder to speak at all.

  Mila bit down on the sensitive space on my shoulder at the same time she dragged her hand up my cock, gripping hard. “Mmm. Do you want me to jack you and then lean forward and suck you down my throat until you spill inside of me?”

  My hips jerked on autopilot as I fucked her hand, thrusting up, her sexy words spurring me into a furious need to come, imagining her lips wrapped around my cock…shit. The crown was so sensitive I swore if she touched it again, I’d lose it all in one go.

  I slid my right hand up behind her and into her hair, where I laced my fingers through her locks so I could grip the roots with enough pressure to cause pain if I wanted to, but mostly to ensure the wildcat wouldn’t back off at the last possible second. I wouldn’t survive it if she did.

  I shouldn’t have worried. Mila jacked me like an expert. “Tell me where we’re going, and I’ll make you come so hard down my throat you’ll be struggling not to pass out,” she promised and slid that hand up and down in four quick strokes.

  My body started to quake from the strain of holding out. “Do it!” I tried to push her head down toward my cock. I’d never been so hard, my penis so ready to blow in all my life. I felt as though my cock would explode if she didn’t put the wet, hot cavern of her mouth on me right then.

  She whispered in my ear, “Tell me where we’re going?” She let go of my cock. Fucking let go. My cock and balls throbbed in painful need, and I could have sh
ed a fucking tear at the loss of her grip.

  “God damn it!” I slammed my left hand on the wheel, and the car swerved a bit. Up ahead there was a soft shoulder. The cars would still fly by, but at the moment, I did not fucking care. All I could think about was coming. Pushing my hard dick up into her mouth while she sucked me dry.

  “Tell me and I’ll give you what you want,” she cooed and nibbled on my jaw, wrapping her hand back around my dick. Oh sweet heaven, relief. The top of my dick was weeping a copious amount of pre-cum, which she again used to lubricate her strokes.

  I pulled over onto the shoulder, put the car in park, and fucked into her hand. Ripples of excitement roared through me, my synapses firing and ready to ignite at any time. “To the museum for a picnic.”

  As if by magic, her head swooped down and her mouth engulfed my cock right in time. Four pitiful strokes and I was coming, my hand holding her head, forcing her to take more, my hips jerking up as she gagged but didn’t stop. A pleasure so strong soared through my body, and I squeezed my eyes shut tight. Air pushed out my lungs as I worked my hips, jackknifing up to get more, go deeper into her wet heat.

  “Fuck, Mila, so good, baby. Yeah, take it all. All of it. Fuck yes,” I growled, pumping every last drop into her mouth.

  Once I had nothing left to give, she gave my dick one last lingering suck, which tickled as much as it tingled, and let it flop back onto my open pants. She licked her lips and then wiped them with the back of her hand. Every breath left my lungs in heavy pants as I attempted to come back to earth.

  She grinned a devil-made-me-do-it, sexy-as-hell smile. I could look at the smile for the rest of my life and know it would be like winning the lottery being able to be the one to see it every day.

  “Now that wasn’t so hard. Well, it was, but not anymore.” She puffed out her bottom lip, pressed off me, and buckled back up. “I’m excited about the museum. Let’s go,” she said as I tucked in my junk and shook my head.

  “There is no woman like you on earth. I’m not sure if I’m lucky or cursed.”

  She grinned and grabbed my hand. Actually initiated something intimate and affectionate, and not because of the sexual tension or a need to fuck. “Probably a little bit of both. You better watch out.”

  I chuckled. “Well, if getting jacked and then blown in my car while driving down the highway is what I have to look forward to in my future…marry me.”

  Her face took on a look of horror. “You’re a dumbass!” She socked me in the shoulder.

  “Ouch! That actually hurt.” I rubbed at the new tender spot. Girl could pack a punch.

  “You’d do well to remember that.” She bit down on her lip.

  “Oh, baby, I’ll never forget today. It’s already one of the most memorable experiences of my life. Now I need to make it one of yours.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Extended Puppy Pose (Sanskrit: Uttana shishosana)

  An excellent pose for stretching the spine and releasing tension in the lower back. A basic level pose, ideal for most body types, provided you are not dealing with any injuries. Spread the knees hip distance apart, stretch the arms out on the mat, push your hips back and up. Rest your forehead on the mat. Make sure big toes are touching so that your body’s energy can circulate through you.

  MILA

  Atlas forced me to stay in the car when we arrived at the museum. He was dead set on making this an official date. Not that it mattered.

  He ran around the car and opened my door, holding out his hand to help me exit.

  “You know, I’m a sure thing,” I offered, wanting him to understand he didn’t have to put all this effort into getting me into the sack.

  He frowned and let go of my hand. “Is that what you think this is? Me wanting to get laid?”

  I pushed both of my hands into my back pockets and assessed him. He wore a dark pair of jeans, a cool as hell concert T-shirt, and a fitted leather jacket. He had several leather and silver chain necklaces on, including the ever-present key dangling at his sternum. I still didn’t know much about it, other than the fact that he didn’t take it off, and it had sentimental value because of his dad. A pair of leather boots adorned his feet, and he completed the look with his I-don’t-give-a-flip curly mop of hair that actually was dead sexy, even though I loved giving him crap about it.

  Atlas looked at me as if I’d just stepped on his guitar case. His eyes were harsh and his eyebrows a defined slash across his brow, adding to the intensity of his frown.

  “Hey, I just wanted you to know you didn’t have to work so hard. I’m not the type of girl you need to impress.” I shrugged.

  He squinted. “Maybe I want to impress you.” He stepped closer and wrapped an arm around my waist, bringing me flush against his chest. “Maybe it’s time a man put some effort into you.” He rubbed his nose against mine. “Maybe I want to be that man.” That’s when he softly pecked my lips. Over and over, he brushed my lips with his, never taking it deeper, just a simple caress of lip on lip. I’d not been kissed so softly before. Every time I tried to take it further, he backed off.

  “Are you teasing me?” I whispered against his lips.

  “Maybe.”

  “Is that all you can say? Maybe?”

  “Maybe.” He chuckled, pulled back, and let me go. He went to the back seat and pulled out a full-on picnic basket.

  I was certain my eyes were about to pop out of my head. “You were not kidding. You really did make a picnic lunch.”

  He smiled before looping his arm around my shoulder. “Yep. Now come on, hotness, let’s check out some art. Time for you to teach the musician what you know about fancy paintings.”

  I grinned and paired our steps as we walked toward the de Young Legion of Honor Fine Arts Museum. “I’ve always loved this museum,” I said, appreciating the odd V-shaped structure of the front of the building.

  “Why?”

  “The building itself is art. Where better to showcase beautiful work than in an architecturally artistic building?” I pointed at the dramatic copper face that had a punched, bumpy look. “See, it’s designed to show light streaming through the trees. Over time, the copper will oxidize the same way the Statue of Liberty has and change color to a natural green that will coexists well with the surroundings. Is that why you chose it for our date?” I poked him between the ribs.

  He jerked back, laughing. Oh. Someone was ticklish. I stored that bit of information to use against him when the time was just right.

  Atlas focused on the building. “It is cool, but no. I researched the websites, and this one had a bunch of nudes on display. Figured with what you were working on, your muse might get inspired.”

  I stopped in place. My heart pounded erratically, and my fingers started to tingle. “Atlas, that is so sweet.” And just as the side of his mouth quirked up into a smile, I laid a fat kiss on him. A ninja-kiss. A deep, full tongue, wet kiss, where I gripped his hair, delved my tongue in until my thirst for this man was quelled. At least for the time being. Once I couldn’t breathe, I ripped my mouth away.

  “Holy shit. We’re going to the museum every weekend.” He gasped and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

  “Hey, you do sweet things, you get ninja-kisses.”

  He chuckled. “It was like…like a ninja attack. I’ll have to keep my eye on you.”

  I grinned and grabbed his hand, appreciating the weight of him holding mine. An entirely new sensation, but not an unwelcome one. With Atlas, for reasons unbeknownst to me, it just felt right, like the thing to do. Plus, the way he swung our hands back and forth like Lily did with Moe made me happy. Making him happy was making me happy. Such a novel concept. I couldn’t describe it, nor did I want to. I decided, for the day, I’d throw caution to the wind and just let myself feel.

  Turned out today was a special free day at the museum, so the ticket agent just waved us through. I’d been to this museum countless times and knew right where to go. I led the way, pointing out pieces of ar
t that were of particular interest to me. Atlas observed quietly, seeming to take in everything I said. He asked thoughtful questions about contemporary art and the different eras that were displayed. He seemed to enjoy the sculptures more than the paintings, which had me feeling a little bummed.

  “Is there somewhere outside we can eat? The website boasted thousands of feet of a garden landscape.” The second the question was out of his mouth, his stomach grumbled.

  I laughed out loud, looped my thumb into his belt loop leading him to the perfect place. Since I noticed he’d taken a liking to the sculptures, the de Young had an amazing sculpture garden where people were always setting up a picnic lunch. “Yeah, come on. Wouldn’t want you wasting away. Besides, I’m dying to see what you packed.”

  He grinned. “Any guesses?”

  Knowing he was a bachelor who lived with another bachelor, I went with the obvious. “Peanut butter and jelly?”

  He shook his head. “Nope. Try again.”

  I led him through the beautiful gardens to a space where giant apples were scattered around. “Uh, apples?” He laughed as I let his hand go and ran over to a big apple that was as high as my hip. “Voilà!”

  “Nice Vanna, but no.” He scanned the place and found a beautiful shady tree. He set down the basket and pulled out a big beach towel he’d rolled and tied to the side of the basket. He laid it out and then gestured for me to sit.

  Once we were settled, he opened the basket and handed me two plastic champagne flutes. Then he plucked out strawberries and set them between us. He took two and put one in each glass. “Wow. You’re really doing this up.”

  He didn’t say anything, just continued lining up his items. With a patience I didn’t know he had, he meticulously laid out a couple different fruits, cheeses, crackers, little gherkin pickles, olives, and some triangle-shaped sandwiches.

  “And for the pièce de résistance…” he said, butchering a French accent, “we have a sparkling wine for the lady.” He popped the cork effortlessly and filled our glasses.