Authors: Shiloh Walker
Beautiful Scars (28 page)
Actually, she didn’t need to imagine the wet and trembling part. Her panties already felt suspiciously damp and her knees were shaky.
They walked more or less in silence. Between traffic noise, noise from the perennial construction along Atlantic Avenue and the melting heat, talking seemed far too much like work. Even the breeze off Boston Harbor was sticky.
By the time they crossed a bridge over Fort Point Channel, she was wishing she’d worn flats, even if they wouldn’t have looked right with the outfit. She prayed that the restaurant would be an informal place where she could slip her shoes off under the table.
Once she saw the restaurant, her feet breathed a sigh of relief.
The Barking Crab was a tribute to the beachside clam shack. Rough picnic tables covered with butcher paper—they even provided crayons for doodling. A mix of fried and steamed seafood, with a few more sophisticated but still basic selections. And outdoor seating on the harbor, so she could kick off the damn heels and relax. “It’s a tourist trap,” Nick said, “but it’s fun.”
Soon they were drinking cold beers—he’d recommended the fascinatingly named Smuttynose, from a brewery in New Hampshire—and awaiting plates of fried scallops, fried calamari and steamed mussels. Selene hadn’t eaten a great deal that day and the frosty, hoppy beer was making her feel pleasantly euphoric.
Or maybe that was Nick.
She stretched out her bare foot, brushed it against his calf. Hard muscle under soft denim. Nice.
Yeah, Nick might just have something to do with the euphoria.
He took the hand that wasn’t holding her beer.
No, he didn’t exactly take her hand. He covered her hand with his and closed his fingers around her wrist. Then he looked into her eyes.
A slow, sensual smile opened on his face as he said, “That’s better. Isn’t it?”
It wasn’t really a question, but he was giving her an out if she wanted it.
She didn’t. That firm grip on her wrist hinted at so many things she’d dreamed of. “Oh yes,” she breathed. “Better.” She dropped her voice a notch. “And wetter.”
It may have been purely coincidence that the woman sitting behind her giggled at that second, but Selene was sure she’d overhead.
Heat flared in Selene’s cheeks and, to her surprise, between her legs. She squirmed in her seat, less from actual embarrassment than to enjoy the pressure the movement put on her swollen lips.
Under the cover of the first round of food arriving, Nick leaned forward. “So, you enjoy a little bit of public embarrassment? I’ll file that away for later.”
“You’re so confident that there’ll be a later?”
“What do you think?” He ran one fingernail down the tender inside of her forearm.
His nails weren’t sharp, but she still shivered.
“What about the common-sense test?” she asked. Her voice sounded a little desperate to her own ears, grasping at verbal straws. “Don’t I fail it retroactively if I go home with you tonight?”
“If you come home with me and let me lock you in a cage, then yes. But to do that, I’d need a cage, and where will I find one in downtown Boston on a Saturday night?” He laughed. “I’m regretting that test. It’s making us both think we have to be sensible, and right now I’d rather be impulsive.”
“Would it help if I said I wasn’t thinking of much of anything except you?” Had that really come out of her mouth? “Okay, you and food. I’m starving.” She grabbed a ring of fried calamari and popped it into her mouth, hoping the squid would keep her from saying anything too stupid. Calamari had the texture of bubble gum, in her experience, and it was rude to talk with your mouth full.
Damn it if this place didn’t manage to make calamari tender. Delicious too, with a nice, crunchy coating and a bit of spice.
Much tastier than what she’d been expecting but not nearly as effective for keeping her safely quiet.
“Try it with a bit of the banana pepper,” Nick suggested, picking up a calamari ring and a piece of yellow-green pepper. She thought for a second he was demonstrating the proper technique.
He wasn’t.
He reached across the table and held the food before her lips. “Try it,” he urged.
Her mouth opened of its own accord.
He brushed his finger across the pout of her lower lip, making her shiver.
She opened her mouth slowly, took a tentative nibble to test the pepper’s heat, then parted her lips wider and engulfed the food and Nick’s fingers.
Unfortunately, there was only so much room around the morsel for tongue and fingers to work their wiles upon each other. She did her best, though, sucking and nibbling on his fingers while he moved them against her tongue, tantalizing something besides her taste buds, which were already busily dealing with piquant pepper and warm, spiced calamari. She found she was leaning forward to take him, wanting to feel more, liking the sensation that he was filling her mouth.
She wanted him filling her mouth with his cock, wanted him to move in her mouth as he was now—no, harder, more forcefully, claiming that piece of her as his.
She arched her throat, tried to convey the fantasy through what she did to his fingers, and discovered that the calamari and pepper were interfering.
She coughed.
It didn’t stop the lovely, depraved images running through her head. Frankly, it fit with them, because the blowjob she was imagining was the kind where you might find yourself almost choking on cock but not wanting to stop. The kind where you’d actually revel in the bit of discomfort because your lover was getting off so much on thrusting hard into your throat.
On the other hand, cock couldn’t actually end up in your windpipe, but a stray piece of food could, and nothing spoiled a flirtation like a Heimlich maneuver and a visit to the ER.
Regretfully, she pulled away and actually applied herself to chewing and swallowing.
The pepper-and-squid combination was delicious, all right, but not as delicious as his fingers.
She thought of his cock deep in her throat, imagined how he might taste as he poured into her, felt herself flushing.
She forced herself to giggle. “Something more delicate might have worked better,” she said, making her voice stay even. “Maybe a taste of one of the dipping sauces next time.”
Something about the way Nick smiled in response let her know that he knew exactly what she’d been thinking, because he’d been thinking it too. Not just oral sex, because that was what you always thought about when you teased someone like that, but a very specific kind of oral sex, the kind that was claiming, almost brutal. “I don’t know. Are delicate morsels what you prefer?”
“Delicacy has its place. But so does less delicate, and that was perfect. Just considering other possibilities that might be…perfect in different ways.”
“Oh,” he said, smiling luxuriously, “we have time to try all sorts of morsels. This is just the appetizer.”
How in the world, she thought, shifting in her seat for the pleasure of feeling her slick lips rub together, was she ever going to get through the rest of dinner without begging him to take her on the table?
Beautiful Scars
Shiloh Walker
Some scars cut right to the heart.
Three years after her divorce, Chaili Bennett is over her ex. Her only problem now? Of the few men she’s dated since, no one “gets” her. Not like Marc Archer—a man who’s never seen her as more than a friend.
Marc Archer needs a date for a last-minute charity event, and he needs it fast. Not that women aren’t throwing themselves at his world-famous face and body, but sometimes it’s less messy—as in less personal—to use his sister Shera’s escort service.
The last woman on earth Marc expects to see in his sister’s office is Chaili. There’s something different about her, but nothing pleases him more when Shera sets them up. That simple date quickly evolves into much more as they both discover the other fills a deep, secret need they’ve shared with no one else.
Though Chaili insists one night is all she wants, Marc isn’t walking away now. Not until he discovers what put the shadows in her eyes. And the scars on her soul.
Warning:
This book involves soulful songs, soulful sex, a soulful singer and lots of heartbreak. But no worries, there’s a happy ever after.
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This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.
Samhain Publishing, Ltd.
11821 Mason Montgomery Road Suite 4B
Cincinnati OH 45249
Beautiful Scars
Copyright © 2013 by Shiloh Walker
ISBN: 978-1-61921-456-9
Edited by Tera Kleinfelter
Cover by Lyn Taylor
All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
First
Samhain Publishing, Ltd.
electronic publication: January 2013
