Black Knight

Logan Blue

The Colors of Lust: BLACK KNIGHT by Logan Blue

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Colors of Lust: Black Knight

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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, places, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. The Colors of Lust: BLACK KNIGHT Copyright (c) 2005 by Logan Blue Cover art and design (c) 2005 by Marianne LaCroix All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any form without permission, except as provided by the U.S. Copyright Law. For information, you can find us on the web at, www.VenusPress.com Printed and bound in the United States of America.

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Prologue

While Cyan knew she wasn’t fully awake, in the back of her mind, she could hear the wind whipping the willow tree, the branches clawing at the house like an angry evil. She focused on the green ominous glow of the alarm clock. “It’s two A.M.,” she groaned. Cyan’s fitful sleep was disturbed by his dark presence or weeks now the vision of him returned nightly. In the dream she could feel him near her bed. Every time she had the dream it became more explicit. She could see the dark figure staring at her, motioning for her to come to him. She wanted to but something was holding her back. Something deep inside her warned her, this black knight was not there to rescue her. The warning sign flashed, “danger, danger”. She should run, she should not be hypnotized by his black eyes, but she couldn’t help herself. Powerless to resist she stared mesmerized, feeling the pull of his lust. The scenery was draped in the same surreal landscape dream that green eyes materialized from. The same marshy landscape in which Audrey Rose—Cyan shook her head to dispel the water filled image of Audrey. Cyan had realized early on that what she thought were dreams were actually visions, premonitions of what was to be. At first she thought she caused things to happen by dwelling on the vision. Things she saw, things she hoped for, but that was when she was younger, so much younger as if in another lifetime. The one vision that still haunted her was when she saw Audrey Rose, that haughty and angry, upper-class-everything-perfect, flaming redhead drown. In the back of her mind she always thought it was her fault, that somehow she had caused it to be, Halloween horror-like spookiness. She had thought perhaps random bits of imagery left over from the day, interjected with her own anger had caused the dreams and then had given her the supernatural power to fulfill their dire consequences. Before she understood the nature of the dreams, she had been wracked by guilt and worry that she had caused the drowning by dreaming the event as many times in the weeks before Audrey died. It was the other way around, she knew now. She only saw what was coming and she knew somewhere, her black knight was approaching. Brief flashes of clairvoyance had followed Audrey’s death, but it would be years before Cyan experienced anything as strong as the repeated visions of Audrey, her red 4

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hair floating on the water around her like a halo. And then Green Eyes came to Cyan while she was sleeping. Cloaked in his army fatigues, Jerome had appeared a savior to her, an escape from the purified, germ-free, emotionless mausoleum of her mother’s house. But, once Jerome had claimed Cyan’s heart, he squeezed the life from it, twisted it until it broke. Now her heart, like their marriage, lay in a spent heap tossed away like so much garbage. At first, she had tried to rescue it from the bottom of the whiskey bottle. A losing battle, she now knew. Green, once fresh, once signifying freedom was also the color of mold, decay, and putrid death. And black—black was sweet allure, the color of her lust as she lay in the darkness barely beyond the dream. Cyan pulled away from the dream in a feverish sweat. Moisture wrapped around her, the sheets clinging to her arms, legs, and chest. With trembling hands, she tossed the sheets and blankets away from her. The sheet beneath her was drenched from her fitful wrestling with the dark shape in her nightmare. Cold air washed over her cooling her skin, bringing her nipples to rigid peaks. Only her center was still warm, deliciously warm. The place between her legs that her mother said she must not touch was damp and begging for release. The desire to press it consumed her. Her mother’s voice yelling at her brother for his wet dreams, soiling the sheets, echoed through the night air, “You will go blind if you keep playing with that thing,” she said angrily. “Good girls don’t touch their sex organs, they save themselves for marriage and that is what the husband should do, never you.” Cyan heard her mother’s voice as it raged against her older sister, who apparently questioned the feeling she found. Her mother’s voice reverberated through her memory and she snatched her hands to her chest, groaning in misery at the contact with her distended breasts. Fire and brimstone. So many, many years of anguished want burned between her thighs. Pastor York had reinforced all of her mother’s tirades, back when she was so impressionable. Now she wasn’t so sure they were right since she had started to see the world through her own filter. Quickly Cyan moved from the bed, her steps rapid as she crossed to the bathroom where she splashed cold water on her wrists and her face. The combination of cool air in the house, the cold water, and the after thoughts of the dark knight in her dreams, raised flesh bumps to race across her bare skin. She shivered and returned to the bed. Only then did she first realize that once again Jerome was passed out somewhere else in the house. He had not come to bed again. Nothing new. She sighed and slipped between the sheets. It was normal for him. At times she missed him, but she learned to live around him. 5

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Mother always said, “You made your bed, now sleep in it.” Old school, old world, no way around it Cyan accepted what she was taught as law and she internalized it. Afraid to sleep and yet longing to get into the dream that would perhaps bring the dark figure in to make love to her. Cyan embraced the dream, purposely hovering between sleep and a trancelike state. She wanted to feel his hot breath on her neck as he slowly kissed his way to her breasts. The hot penetrating touch of his fingers toying with her nipples as he sucked her full lower lip was real. His tongue, serpentine, thick and twisting, darted into her mouth, sucked her tongue out as his cock pressed against her mound. She could smell the intoxicating maleness of his heat rising as his passion did. He broke the kiss and began a slow trail of licks down the centerline of her body, circled her navel, penetrating it, fucked it with his tongue. She could feel inside where the umbilical cord once fed her life now fed, now--fanned the spark creating a bonfire below her navel, inside the secret place of her womanhood. Cyan hovered on the edge of climax. His hands playing lightly over her hips, urging her on as she pumped the air between them, her body in flames from his touch. He spread his hands caressing, squeezing, manipulating, and kneading her tender cheeks. She pumped the air once, twice more, then shattered against the bed. An orgasm claimed her body. She writhed beneath his touch. Still he teased her, his hand finding her swollen clit, rubbing it until she parted her legs, squirming in her need, begging for him to enter her, anxiously awaiting the feel of him diving into her deepest depths Her hands cupped her breasts in an ancient offering. His black eyes raping her but the dream disappeared, leaving her hot, wet, and barely satisfied. He flashed her a brilliant smile, a half-cockeyed smile that only made her wetter. She groaned and opened her eyes. And then he was gone. *** Light peaked between the tiny cracks of the venation blinds and she was alone. The night sucked back away from her and she couldn’t keep the feeling between her thighs from draining away with it. There will be other nights. Will he be there, that dark knight of her passions, her restless dreams? Will he be there to fire her loins and stir her passions? She couldn’t linger in his afterglow, his smell. He wasn’t authentic. He was a fantasy. He seemed so very, very near. Cyan let a tear slip down her cheek, and trickle to her pillow, her empty womb awoke and ached, ashamed and guilty for allowing those dark eyes to rape her dreams.

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Colors of Lust: Black Knight

Chapter One

Sharee flew into the office with her skirts whirling like a dervish. “Ciao,” she greeted everyone, charming the January frost off the windows with her contagious smile. “Konichiwa, to the rest of you,” she said flashing a brilliant white-toothed smile that danced lights in her eyes. “Cy,” she cooed. “I have a huge favor to ask of you,” Cyan eyed her over the top of her glasses wondering just what her friend was hiding up her sleeve this time. “And that would be?” She asked, removing her glasses and fidgeting with one of their arms eyeing her friend. In her side vision she could see Nathan Holmstrom, the Dean of Student Services, watching her exchange with Sharee and she shifted nervously. Nathan had already gently chastised Cyan for being a pushover when it came to Sharee’s requests. “I have this cousin; I mean he’s a shirt tail relative—really, he’s a third cousin on my mother’s side. He’s new to the campus. Well, he’s new to everything. He has led a sheltered life–the reservation, then prison. Those are the only two places he knows,” Sharee rattled on passing over the words like so much air to be breathed and released. “Wait, did I hear prison?” Cyan asked. She asked her question in a louder voice than she would have liked and she heard Nathan softly clear his throat. Her cheeks felt flushed. Was she embarrassed because she read Nathan’s throat clearing as a warning? If only she could get a clear view of him, read his body language. Did he intend the noise to warn her, or was she projecting her own gut level reaction to the danger in Sharee’s request? “Well, yes.” Sharee answered breezily, unaware of the split in Cyan’s attention. “But you see none of that was his fault. Most of it doesn’t matter because it’s old hat. Since he was in school, they sent him to reform school for simple things. You know all that does is make matters worse. Every time he came out…” “Every time? How many times was he in?” “None of that matters now, Cy.” Sharee’s breathless energy sent a steady barrage of words assaulting Cyan’s ears. She hardly had time to think or respond to what was being said. She put her hand on Cyan’s arm, her need projecting itself loudly through 7

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Cyan’s body. “He is here on education release–he’s over at the camp, the minimumsecurity place over in Lost Bay. You know where I’m talking about?” Cyan did know where she meant. Every semester the Lost Bay Facility allowed a set number of inmates to attend rehabilitative classes before they were releasing them back into society. This was a laugh. Most of them violated their parole before they finished the semester. It was too much unsupervised freedom for some that weren’t ready for it. Many of them wound up tied, as though by an umbilical cord, to her office every year. “Your cousin, he is here going to school, right?” Sharee nodded enthusiastically and withdrew her hand from Cyan’s arm. “He’s in the machine tool program. He’s a real dear. You’ll love him. Really you will,” she pressed. “But he is so shy and introverted… I’m afraid he won’t make it here. If he gets in trouble, they will send him back to prison for the long haul. You’ve got to help him Cy.” The pleading tone in Sharee’s voice wound its way into Cyan’s stomach and carved out a hollow pit. “All Derian needs is a chance,” Sharee assured her. “Could you take him under your wing as a special favor to me?” She pleaded. Her expressive black Indian eyes widened in an undeniable entreaty. “What do you want me to do?” she asked. She had such a hard time saying no to Sharee it made her wonder just what kind of manipulation she would be capable of if she was evil. Thank God she isn’t she thought. “I’ll bring him over here later to introduce him,” Sharee said. “You can talk to him, ask him questions…you know be friendly,” she suggested. “Invite him to use the lounge, the library, visit with other students, that kind of thing.” Sharee increased the wattage of her smile and lightly touched Cyan’s arm with her fingertips. “You could get him to join the Native American Club. You’re so good at making people feel at home.” With Sharee’s charm turned all the way up, Cyan felt powerless to refuse her. Giving in, Cyan assured Sharee that she would take special pains with Derian’s introduction to his new environment. “I’ll do what I can. I try to make everyone feel comfortable here you know that.” Cyan said trying to hold out a few seconds longer although she knew she would give in to Sharee’s persuasive charm. “I do, but I want you to take special pains to get him to fit in,” Sharee said. “I’ll do what I can,” Cyan answered. Sharee’s mouth puckered in a quivering pout and Cyan rushed to reassure her. “I’ll do all that I can, Sharee, I promise.” Sharee smiled and gave Cyan a peck on the cheek before she turned on her heel and left the office in her normal breezy manner. Avoiding Nathan’s gaze, Cyan turned to her inbox, took the stack of letters from it and began prioritizing the day’s workload. She was pleased to see that several of the 8

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envelopes were from the Low-Income Energy Assistance Program. Undoubtedly, the LEAP letters were requesting information on students that had heeded her advice and applied for winter heating aid. Folded between the letters was an urgent phone message from the crisis intervention center and, dialing the center’s number, she gave out a low growl at the receptionist’s laziness. Peggy Failin, the center director, answered. Recognizing Cyan’s voice, she immediately launched into a plea for Cyan to find a spare room for a student that was trying to leave an abusive spouse. “Just until we come up with something more permanent for her,” Peggy said. “Well, if she doesn’t mind doing a little shopping and errand running, I know an elderly lady she can stay with for a few weeks,” Cyan suggested. “If she’s trustworthy, that is.” “Oh very,” Peggy answered, the relief evident in her voice. “Can I have her call you directly?” “Yeah, sure,” she said and glanced around the room. Nathan was gone. So were most of the morning’s emergency cases. She gave Peggy the number to her extension for about the hundredth time since the beginning for the academic year. She took a deep breath and held it, her eyes closed. Typical day at the zoo, she thought as she hung up the phone. It seemed her day was spent leaping from one crisis to the next. She had learned the many services available and how to access each, but somehow she always wound up being the go-between for other people’s programs or filling the cracks where no program existed. This was, of course, what she seemed best suited for but, every now and then, she wished that she wasn’t so sensitive to the needs of others. That she didn’t feel their pain so acutely that it left her unable to attend to her own crisis, figure out how to resolve her own problems or find someone in her role that could help her. *** The less than charitable mood still clung to her when Sharee’s cousin Derian sauntered into her office. Stoop-shouldered, head down, he slumped into the couch, his gaze downcast, locked onto the cheap, faded carpet that the school had installed more than a decade ago. Irritation flashed through her at Sharee’s failure to bring him by herself as she had said she would. In her current mood, she couldn’t help but scrutinize him. With head down she couldn’t see his face, but her gaze flicked over the tawdry gray windbreaker he wore over a plain white t-shirt. Inexpensive running shoes covered his feet and he had on clean, but worn jeans. The clothes were standard fare for the Lost Bay boys. They told her where he was from, but not who he was. Slowly, not having spoken 9

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to him, she turned down the white noise inside her head that kept her thoughts separate from the cacophony of those around her. He turned slightly lifting his head to stare out the window, when her gaze reached his face. Cyan’s stomach did a flip-flop. Before her was the dark figure from her dreams. A sharp pain buried itself in the center of her forehead as she felt him lost and alone, his soul shriveled as if incased in a prune of hardened slate. She reached out to grip the edge of her desk to shut off the flow of emotions pouring from him. But she couldn’t. Not only was she receiving his thoughts but also, she was sure Derian was actively sending them. It couldn’t be otherwise. In all the years she had spent counseling others, actively using her empathic abilities, she had never met someone who passively projected as loudly as Derian. What kind of power did he have to transmit words and meaning without speaking? Cyan had clairvoyant tendencies when it came to feeling another human’s needs and desires, but this man had power she couldn’t understand. She felt that he knew too. When his eyes met hers, there was a flash of recognition, a spark of light that blazed into hers and then vanished back into the depth of his dark gaze. She looked away, feeling her face flushing in embarrassment. Why was she suddenly feeling ashamed as if he had seen her naked? Physically undressed and mentally revealed all in that one instant flash of recognition. Intrigued and hating to see another person suffering, she offered her friendship and support to the broken creature slumped dejectedly before her, in spite of her intense feelings of trepidation. Her voice barely recognizable as her own shook when she spoke to him. “I’m Cyan,” she said. “If you need anything…I meant if you need to know anything,” she corrected. “I’m here to help. Come by anytime. Okay?” She offered him her hand and he stood to take it. His Southern Ute heritage and pride stiffened his spine and she had to look up to meet his gaze as he slowly shook her hand. This close to him, she was suddenly too aware of the body hiding behind his shabby prison release clothes. She tried to focus on his eyes and push his raw good looks out of her thoughts. But the mystery his gaze held only pulled her in deeper. And then he spoke with a voice that seemed to rumble from the depths of his soul. “Derian,” he said. He named himself as if he were casting a spell over her, imprinting his identity, his entire being on her with just that one word. He looked down at his hand that still enclosed her smaller one. His thumb rubbed a soft line along her index finger and she knew she should pull away, break the handshake, but she couldn’t. A delicious dampness had built between her legs and was threatening to claim any sense of propriety she had. She remembered his phantom touch of last night. He squeezed 10

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her hand softly, as if he, too, were remembering. Does he know that I’ve dreamt about him, his touch, his cock? Or is he dreaming about me, dream walking, seducing women from his prison cell? She felt the walls of her vagina begin to contract, a swoon threatening to overtake her and she roughly pulled her hand away from his. Turning to her desk, she busied herself shuffling through papers, looking for something to give him. Warning buzzers and flashing lights were going off in her head, ‘danger, danger’. Even that interested her. She had never been adventurous, or willing to push the envelope in any way, but something about him made her insides crave more of him. She pulled three papers from the pile and walked around from her desk. She gestured to the floor-to-ceiling shelves that lined three walls of the common area. “Here is a paper you will need to fill out to use the special Native American Library housed here,” she said as she handed him the top paper. “This is a flyer and application for the Native American Club. You should think about joining it, too. We meet every Tuesday at noon right here.” His hand brushed hers as he took the papers from her. As brief and innocent as the contact was it sent a tingling along her arm and directly to her nipples already alert to his presence, they hardened to sharp peaks that chafed at the brush of her bra, demanding a softer covering as her body remembered that phantom suckling of his velvet lips. As if reading her discomfort, he flashed another radiant smile and sat down to look at the papers. “Thanks. I will look into that,” he said flashing his voice rumbling through her head. “What if I don’t know my grandmother’s maiden name?” “That’s okay,” Cyan answered. “Fill in what you can, what you know. It’s so we have a better idea of where to go to supplement your financial aids package…that’s all.” Turning away from Derian, she crossed the room and pulled a research grant file from one of the filing cabinets. It had an end of week deadline and she’d already let too many distractions keep her from working on the grant application. Still, her promise to Sharee played through her mind and she looked around the near deserted common area. Picking up a pen, she opened the file and pulled out a draft copy of the application. She could feel he wasn’t concentrating on his papers. She sat down near him—in case he needed her help filling out the application, she told herself, and read the first paragraph and re-read it, her mind refusing to focus on the introductory boilerplate. He sat silently watching her while she tried to work. It was as though he undressed her with his eyes. His gaze caressed her breasts and they responded, straining inside her bra, nipples hardening as though in anticipation of his touch. She could feel those dark mysterious eyes penetrating, searching every inch of her body in the wet center of her sex concealed from his penetrating gaze by the metal barrier of the desk. 11

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Her legs parted, the plump folds of her labia flushing in anticipation, her pulse pounding in her ears and in her clit. Waiting, straining, she felt a wave of organism begin to wash over her and she clamped down on it, her violet gaze catching his black one and pushing him back. “Almost time for your first class,” she said weakly, checking the clock above the doorway. He nodded, but his thoughts still parried with hers and she had to look away. A few seconds later, she heard the scrape of his chair. When she dared to look up again, he had left. She checked the clock again. A quarter before three. Two more hours, absent any emergencies, and she could go home. At the thought of home, and Jerome, all pleasure left her body.

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Colors of Lust: Black Knight

Chapter Two

Cyan moved around her bedroom, putting clean clothes away and picking up dirty ones. The room was dark, illuminated only by the light spilling from the bathroom. She would have preferred more light but didn’t want to wake Jerome. Her gaze darted to the bed where he was sprawled, one arm flung out over her pillow. She could smell the beer and whiskey oozing from his pores and her stomach clenched against the odor. Despite the winter chill outside, she opened the bedroom window an inch and then went down the hallway to turn up the heat. If Jerome saw the bill, he would bitch. But he seldom saw them. As long as there was enough money in the bank when he stopped by the liquor store or bar after work, he was content. She went into the bathroom and closed the door. Splashing cold water on her face, she began her bedtime routine of removing the small amount of makeup she wore. Her face naked, she gave it a sharp appraisal. Dark circles lined her eyes, silent testimony to sleepless nights spent squirming beneath her dream walker’s touch. Her skin was still finely pored and firm, especially for a woman in her mid-thirties. And her hair, no early graying like her mother had suffered through. Satisfied that she needed only a few nights sleep and less time spent beneath Jerome’s thumb, she smoothed some night cream onto her cheeks and shut off the bathroom light. Cyan didn’t head directly to bed. She waited in the dark for Jerome to move. Her eyes adjusted to the near absence of light while she waited. When she could make out the room’s contents and Jerome still hadn’t moved, she walked around to his side of the bed. She lifted the covers a little, enough for him to feel the chill in his sleep. Like a bear halfway through its winter hibernation, he grumbled low in his throat and turned on his side, pulling the bedspread with him. Cyan sighed and pulled a lap blanket from the bench seat at the edge of their bed. She curled into a ball on the bed, trying to tease an edge of the bedspread from Jerome’s tight grasp. He only pulled the covers closer around his body, his snore rippling in waves throughout the room. She thought about getting up and closing the window, then realized she wasn’t cold. Warmth pressed against her back and urged her to uncurl her body. A tickle of hot air played over her neck and she felt an inner heat begin to build. Cyan tensed and 13

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cautiously looked over her shoulder. Even in the dark, she could see nothing was there. But her body told her that her eyes were deceiving her. Shh, a voice coaxed. Cyan rolled onto her back, ready to bolt from the room. Please, Cyan…let me touch you. It was Derian’s voice. He had only spoken a few sentences to her that afternoon, but she would never forget his heavy baritone, rich with sensual undertones. I need you so badly. She shook her head, but he didn’t heed her denial. Phantom fingers traced a path across her temples and over her throat. He reached her breasts and she arched against the invisible touch, her resistance melting. He traced a circle over each nipple, the fabric of her nightgown providing only a thin barrier against his attentions. Take this off. His words came as a command, not a request, and she pulled the shift off and flung it to the floor. A moment of panic overtook her at the thought of Jerome waking. Forget him. Anger and jealousy crowded the order and she felt a sharp pinch at her nipples. She gasped but the pain was quickly dispelled by the sensation of lips moving over swollen pebbles. He suckled at her breasts, his fingers marching a slow path across her stomach to spread the lips to her sex. Do you want me? She stiffened, afraid to concede just how badly she wanted him, how wet he was making her. Afraid, too, of the power he held within him, to reach out to her like this, when she was awake. Now that he knew who she was, could he invade her thoughts whenever he wanted? Answer me, Cyan. He whispered the words against her nipples, his tongue moving to tease her navel. Do you want me? The pads of his thumbs caressed the entrance to her interior before sliding up to pull at her clit. “Yes!” She grabbed her breasts, thrusting them into the air. She spread her legs, inviting him to fuck her with Jerome beside her, oblivious to anything his alcohol couldn’t offer him. Soon, Derian whispered, his voice and presence fading into the dark corners of the room. Soon. Cyan jumped from the bed, dragging the coverlet with her. She went to the window, closing it. She scanned the street below, looking for some sign that he had been closer to her than his room at the Lost Bay facility. Nothing. Rain, glistening in the single beam from her yard light, slashed at the road and trees. Black shadows danced, but only from the wind. She turned back to the bed, her gaze catching the glow of numbers from her alarm clock. 5:30 a.m. She shook her head in disbelief. She had just gone to bed, the clock couldn’t be right. Reaching down, she picked her nightgown off the floor and roughly pulled it back on over her still burning flesh. She went down the hallway to the kitchen. The microwave told her it was now 5:31 a.m. Still unwilling to believe what time it was, 14

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she turned on the small radio next to the sink and listened as the morning deejay reported a fog advisory. She looked out the window above the sink and saw the rain begin to spread itself into a thin mist. The thinness began to infect her and she rubbed at her eyes. When, she wondered, had Derian come to her and more importantly, how long had he remained? She didn’t know when, but her body knew the answer to the second question. Not long enough.

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Chapter Three

Nathan was waiting for Cyan in her office when she arrived at work. He had a few student requests he had signed for her—nothing that he couldn’t have left in her inbox. She took them with a tentative smile. “Is anything the matter?” she asked. Having to ask was so strange. Everyone else, she looked at them and knew—sometimes right down to the cause…bills, grades, lovers. But not Nathan. His feelings didn’t leak out of him even though, according to the office gossip, he’d had more than his share of heartbreak in the last few years. He was biting his lower lip as if not quite sure how to answer her. “Well, I was a little…concerned that Sharee might have been…asking too much of you yesterday.” He started slowly, measuring and re-measuring each word in his customary fashion. “It’s not really any of my business…I know.” Cyan’s cheeks flushed at the thought of Sharee’s request, or rather at the object of Sharee’s request. When she had arrived at the office and seen her door open, she had half hoped, half dreaded the possibility that Derian was waiting for her. “It’s not,” she said, and then, catching her missed words, she quickly placed her hand on the outside corner of his elbow. “It’s not too much, I mean. I don’t mind you’re being concerned.” Nathan’s blue gaze, as light and softly brushed as a denim work shirt, followed her hand as she withdrew it from his arm. He shrugged his concern away and started to leave her office. Halfway out, he turned and looked back at her, one brow crinkling before he spoke. “Just let me know if you need a go-between for a change.” “I will,” she smiled and waved good-bye with the sheets of paper he had brought her. With Nathan gone, she sat down at her desk and sorted through the papers. A few she added to the growing stacks on her desk. The door to the common area opened, a cold wind following the newcomer in. Cyan leaned in her chair, then returned to the stack of papers on her desk when she saw that it was only Oscar, one of her student assistants. She found herself watching the door, giving each new entrant a half-hearted smile and barely audible konichiwa. 16

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Remembering her promise to Sharee, she thought about checking Derian’s schedule to see when his next class day was. She was on hold with the registrar when Derian sauntered into her office. He sat down on the couch, his legs splayed in a definitively masculine pose, his arms flung out along the back of the couch. Wellmuscled arms from what must have been daily sessions in the prison weight room, flexed beneath the short sleeves of the polo shirt he wore. Derian let her know that he could feel her gaze caressing those muscles, traveling over the puffed chest muscles and sleek waistline to the pants that hugged the gorgeous bulge of his manhood. There was no shutting out his mind when he wanted her to know that he felt her. He wanted her to adore him with her amethyst gaze, to undress him with her mind, stroke his cock and balls. He pulled her mind to him without any intention of ever releasing it. Cyan struggled to pull her mind from his grasp. “Konichiwa.” Cyan managed to squeak the greeting out, still on hold with the registrar’s office she pressed the disconnect and replaced the phone in the cradle, her breathing ready to descend to hard pants at the slightest shift of his toned ass or trim hips. “Ah, the maiden speaks,” he said. It was his turn to let his gaze travel over her. His pupils dilated, his mouth opening in hunger, when he reached the erect nipples that pressed against the cream-colored silk blouse she wore. Cyan crossed her arms over her chest. She pushed out with one foot, swiveling her desk chair until she was facing her computer. “She works too,” Cyan said softly, not trusting her voice to remain normal. “What are you working on?” he asked as he stood to examine the bookshelf on the wall in front of her computer screen. Derian reached to the top shelf and retrieved a book on Native American tribes in the Colorado Plateau. The stretching motion bunched the hard muscles of his ass. Cyan lost herself in tracing the lines of his ass and the sculpted flow of his thighs. Her own thighs began to itch, the skin warming as she tried to remind herself that this man was an inmate—a bona fide felon and not some Hollywood bad boy. Derian turned and she found herself staring at the outline of his erection. Her gaze jumped to his face too late. He had caught her looking at him. The heat rose to her cheeks and she felt them flush a deep crimson. She dropped her attention to the keyboard and randomly hit a few keys. “It’s not top secret, is it?” he asked. His mouth was curved in a knowing smile that made her breathless. It was that grin, that damn teasing grin that left her wet at night, her fingers exploring her clit for some measure of relief that couldn’t be achieved without enduring a monsoon of guilt afterwards. 17

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Cyan cleared her throat and hit a few more keys, this time opening up the grant proposal. “The Bureau of Land Management is offering funds for a tribal outreach program—college classes at tribal facilities, that sort of thing.” She picked up a thick folder of materials. “But there are about a thousand forms to fill out for the application, narrative proposals, and three copies of everything are required.” Derian stretched again, returning the book to the shelf. When he turned back, he pointed toward the small kitchen island in the common area. “You look a little too tired to be filling things out three times. Do you want some coffee?” Cyan gave a quick, awkward shrug and he left the room. She found her gaze tracking him once again as he moved across the common area to the small island. He searched the cupboards for Styrofoam cups, creamer and sugar, his body engaged in a graceful series of stretching, bending, and straightening. When he stuck the stir sticks into the two cups, Cyan forced her attention back to her computer screen. “Here,” he said and handed her one of the cups. “Three sugars and two spoons of cream, right?” Cyan took a sip of the coffee and nodded. “How’d you guess?” “Two spoons make the coffee the same color as your skin,” he offered. “And three sugars…” His tongue darted out to skim the surface of his own coffee. “Well, I just figured your coffee should be as creamy and sweet as you are.” That cockeyed grin surfaced on his face again and his brows lifted. Cyan could feel another blush spread across cheeks. “Thanks,” she stammered and then corrected herself. “For the coffee. I really do need it.” “Didn’t you sleep well last night?” he asked. His black gaze had narrowed in concentration and she could feel, once again, his hands on her as they had been last night. Her grip on the cup tightened, threatening to crack the Styrofoam. He knew, but how? How had he found her in the first place? Did he send his spirit floating like the dream walkers of legend, waiting to catch a receptive sleeper unaware? “Storms always keep me awake,” she said, her tongue tripping over the explanation. “I bet your husband sleeps through them. Probably snoring his head off, disturbing your sleep even more,” he said and grinned again. Cyan nodded but didn’t elaborate. The less Derian knew about Jerome or her relationship with her husband, the better. Already, Derian was occupying a dangerous amount of her thoughts, and time. Let him think she had a real husband, one that wouldn’t take lightly to some Lost Bay boy trying to make time with his wife. 18

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“What’s your first class this morning?” she said, hoping to change the subject. “Literature,” he answered. “Fifteen minutes.” “The Language Arts building is halfway across campus,” Cyan warned. She pulled a campus map from her desk and circled the building. “You don’t want to be late.” “Not if you don’t want me to be late,” he said. He didn’t reach to take the map from her and she shoved it forward. “I don’t want you to be late.” Derian stood, smiling at her in good-bye. Her chest contracted as she realized she might have to go another day or longer before he would smile at her again. She felt a sudden swelling in her breasts and looked up to find him standing at the exit doors, his gaze lingering over her. He grinned, the twinkle in his black eyes visible from across the common area. Tonight. Cyan watched him leave; no longer trying to pretend that she could look away. She felt like a schoolgirl with her first crush. No, she corrected herself. This goes way beyond a crush. As much as she wanted to deny the possibility, Derian had visited her last night and all those nights before. Now that she had seen him, drooled over every inch of his body, the connection was only growing stronger. She studied his torso. Studied is the wrong word, she drooled over his torso. She had forgotten the shriveled person he was that first day when they met. He’d transformed. Or was it she who was transformed? Had she only imagined or felt what his mind willed her to feel so she would be drawn in? Did he know she couldn’t bear to see anyone in pain, be it physical or psychological? That was why she worked in a counseling office, and why she volunteered at the women’s shelter and the humane society’s animal shelter to help those in pain. More questions than answers plagued Cyan’s thoughts. Was Derian in pain that first day? Did he already know about her and fake the pain. Is this what a soul mate feels like? She wondered. How could he know any of this unless Sharee had told him? That had to be it. It had to be Sharee’s doing. She filled him in the way she had filled Cyan in about him. She would ask her next time she saw her. Cyan’s phone rang, startling her from the picture she was painting in her mind’s eye of Derian’s naked body. It was Sharee and, as usual, she got directly to her point. “How is Derian doing?” Cyan hesitated, worried that her voice would give too much away. “Fine, as far as I can tell,” she answered at last. She thought of the Derian’s overnight transformation 19

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in spirit. Had he been faking his depression yesterday? “Look, Sharee,” Cyan said. “Did you tell Derian about me…you know, like how you came and filled me in on him?” “No, Cy,” Sharee answered. Her voice had grown distracted and the sound of some small disaster in the computer lab played in the background. “What makes you ask?” “Hold on a sec.” Cyan stood and closed her office door. She had time enough on the way back to her chair to wonder how crazy Sharee would think she was if she told her about the Black Knight dreams and Derian. Way crazy, she decided as she put the phone to her ear. “It’s just that he seems a lot easier to read than most people.” “He was always freaky like that as a kid, Cy. People would just give him things, like it was their idea,” Sharee answered. Her voice was becoming strained. Cyan couldn’t tell whether the strain was from the conversation they were having or whatever was happening in the computer lab. “I figured you’d be the one person to understand.” Sharee’s voice sounded disappointed and Cyan rushed to reassure her. “I do, it’s just that—” “Look, I gotta go, okay?” Sharee interrupted. “Maybe we can talk about this tomorrow.” “Sure—” Cyan started, but Sharee had already disconnected the call.

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Chapter Four

Contrary to his promise, Derian didn’t visit Cyan that night. She waited in bed, Jerome’s snore filling the room. Her body ached for her phantom lover, the sweet torment keeping her awake until 3:00 a.m. When she finally did fall asleep, it wasn’t Derian who haunted her but Audrey Rose. When the alarm clock started bleating at 5:30 a.m., she slapped the snooze button and rolled back over. Jerome could make his own damn coffee. Twenty minutes later, Cyan rolled out of bed and walked into the bathroom. She turned the shower on, letting it build a head of steam. Once she stepped under the showerhead, the hot, moisture-laden air swirling around her reminded her too much of the mist rising from the swamp in her dream. She turned the handle to lukewarm and quickly rinsed the rest of the soap from her body. Jerome was just waking up when Cyan left the bathroom and walked directly into the double closet. She emerged holding a black skirt suit and a white silk blouse. She didn’t look at him, just stepped back into the bathroom and locked the door. After staring at the ceiling all night, the last thing she wanted to see was the baleful horse glare he always had after a night of heavy drinking. But the locked door couldn’t block Jerome’s coarse voice. “Why the hell aren’t you downstairs yet?” he asked. “I don’t know,” she said, the lie muffled as she smoothed on a dab of lip-gloss. “Why did you mess with the alarm last night?” “Nuh-uh,” he said, but she could hear him scratching the stubble on his chin while he tried to remember stumbling into the bedroom last night. “You can argue or you can go downstairs and make your coffee,” Cyan offered in a flat voice. “I’m running late and don’t have the time. Jerome started to object but she cut him off with her blow dryer. She took more time than necessary drying her hair, hoping he would be downstairs when she was finished in the bathroom. She unlocked the door and opened it a crack. There was no sign of Jerome. She shut the bathroom light off and went back into the closet, stepping into a low-heeled pair of black pumps. From her jewelry box, she picked a strand of 21

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hematite beads and matching earrings. She had a meeting with Nathan and some of the other college honchos later in the day to go over the final draft of the grant proposal. It was, she thought, turning off the bedroom light and slipping downstairs, a bad day to only have two and a half hours of sleep. *** During the drive to school, Cyan rehearsed the presentation she would give at meeting. More than one driver gave her an odd look as she talked to herself, her hands leaving the wheel to make some small point. By the time she reached campus, she had grown too self-conscious to rehearse and was quietly going over areas of the presentation that still needed work. *** “You look lost in thought.” Cyan gave a startled squeal and dropped her attaché. She turned to the couch in her office where Derian was sitting, his legs sprawled open, as they were the day before. A paperback book, with a daisy as a bookmark rested along the inside of one powerful thigh. “How did you get in here?” she asked. And why the hell did you keep me awake all night! Derian’s smile suggested he had heard both of Cyan’s queries and he leaned over, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Dude with the goatee let me in,” he said and thumbed in the direction of one of the student assistants. “I thought it was okay…” “Yeah,” Cyan answered too quickly. “Sure, you just startled me. I’m usually the first one in most mornings.” “Yeah?” he asked and his smile dropped into a crooked grin. “Kind of late this morning…you didn’t spend all night dreaming about me, did you?” Cyan’s gaze widened but her features remained otherwise calm. At least this time she would have to lie. “No, I didn’t. I just don’t sleep well most of the time.” “Well,” Derian offered. “If it’s any consolation, I was up most of the night, too.” He picked the paperback up and tapped its spine. “Reading this for class.” Cyan tilted her head until she could read the book’s title. It was Sandra Brown’s, A Kiss Remembered. It was, Cyan remembered, a story about a woman recovering from a bad marriage and taking a college class taught by her former high school teacher—a teacher she had shared a single, soul-searing kiss with before he left for a job on Capitol Hill. Had his Lit teacher really assigned a Sandra Brown novel? “Have you read it?” he asked. There was an embarrassing pause before Cyan confessed that she had, indeed, read it. “It’s amazing that they found each other again 22

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after so long,” Derian said, his eyes watching Cyan as she fumbled to pull files from her attaché. “It’s a story,” Cyan reminded him. She bent down to turn her computer on and rose to find him staring at her ass. Cyan straightened and smoothed her skirt back down, grateful for the jacket that hid her already pebbling nipples. Derian shrugged and stood. “It just speaks to me,” he said. He pulled the daisy from the book and placed it on Cyan’s desktop. “Shows me that people can connect at one point in time, maybe when it’s not the right time, but still find each other again.” It was Cyan’s turn to shrug. “So, are you enjoying your classes?” she asked. “Reading’s fine,” he said and looked away. He shifted, met her gaze for an instant, then looked down at the floor. “Have to write a reader response on it, though,” he said at last and shoved one hand deep into his jeans pocket. “I’m not a big writer.” “Well, give it your best shot and then we’ll go over it before you turn it in,” Cyan offered. “You don’t have to,” Derian said. He flushed an embarrassed, but satisfied pink and Cyan felt herself grow wet. It was hard to think that there was much she could offer Derian, even if he was one of the Lost Bay boys. “I want to,” she assured him. “But you’ll have to come by the office,” she added. “Can you do that?” He answered with a smile that bordered on sly. The smile sent electric fingers dancing over her body and she blinked against the heat rising from her. She was so moist that she could almost smell her excitement. Derian’s nostrils flared and Cyan had to clamp down on a moan that threatened to escape. “In the meantime,” she stammered, “I’ve got some memos that I have to fax and you have class, right?” Derian nodded, nostrils still flared, tongue pushing at his upper lip to scent the air. “Yeah, today’s the meat class,” he answered and then, seeing her confused expression, immediately explained. “Machine shop—the only reason the prison lets us attend the other classes.” Cyan nodded her understanding and he turned, casting one last look at her as he crossed the common area. When Derian was completely out of sight, she collapsed into her chair. The bottom of her desk had a closed face and she spread her legs slightly, allowing the cool air to caress her thighs and damp panties. The sensation only sharpened her already hard nipples and she released the pent up moan. Christ, she thought and clamped her legs back together at the sight of Nathan crossing over to her office. It’s going to be a long semester. 23

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Nathan stood in her doorway, his blue eyes thoughtfully examining her. “Are you going to be ready for the meeting?” he asked, his expression uncertain. Cyan’s heart stilled. She had forgotten about the meeting while talking to Derian. She cast a furtive glance at the clock, relief trickling into her as she mentally counted the two hours that remained before the meeting. “Why wouldn’t I be?” she asked. Nathan pursed his lips for an instant and then bit down on the center of his lower lip. His gaze narrowed. “You just look a little flushed,” he answered. “You’re not coming down with the flu that’s going around are you?” She could feel the glow that signaled her cheeks were at least pink shaded if not blazing red like someone caught with their pants down. If Nathan could only see the fire that was burning between her legs right now, he’d know she was more than a little flushed. The idea of Nathan looking at her down there sent another hot flash racing over Cyan’s body and she sharply inhaled. “Maybe,” she answered, spitting the air back out. “Jerome looks like he’s coming down with something.” Beneath her desk, she doublecrossed her fingers. Two lies in one morning—that was more than she’d told in the last year! Nathan arched one of his tidy blond brows as if he couldn’t imagine Jerome coming down with any illness other than liver disease. “Well, if you’re sure you can make it through the meeting…we could reschedule for tomorrow—” “No!” Cyan interrupted, then hastened to soften her tone. “If I am coming down with something, it’ll only be worse tomorrow and we can’t put off finalizing the proposal any longer.” Nathan nodded in agreement. “Well, when you finish tying up loose ends after the meeting, bring it by. I’ll sign it and then you should go home for the day and get some rest.” The idea of a nap before night fell sounded like heaven and Cyan indicated that she just might take his suggestion. “First,” she said and waved him out the door, “I have to finish preparing for the meeting.” With Nathan gone, his presence having temporarily pushed Derian from her thoughts, Cyan turned her attention to the presentation. She called one of the student assistants into her office and gave him a set of papers to copy. Then she called the college’s tech support and made sure they would have the video display set up in the conference room. With fifteen minutes remaining, she left her office. She ran into Nathan and they walked the rest of the way to the conference room together. Ninety minutes later, she called the registrar’s office for the rest of Derian’s schedule. 24

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Chapter Five

“Since when did you start napping?” Cyan opened her eyes, her startled gaze widening at the sight of Jerome looming over her, the stink of a night’s worth of alcohol cascading from him. She opened her mouth to speak, her throat too dry for the words to come out. Turning her head, she glanced at the clock. It was almost 11:00 p.m. “Why didn’t you wake me earlier?” she asked. “Didn’t know you were here.” He was swaying as he spoke and his hand fumbled with the alarm clock. “Did you fix it?” Cyan gave him a blank stare and he slapped the clock. “So you’ll wake up in time tomorrow,” he explained. Shit, she had forgotten her morning’s lie. She nodded. “Yeah, all fixed.” Jerome ran his hands absently over his sleeveless t-shirt, trying to remember something he wanted to tell her. He raised one finger in the air, almost touching the words but not quite. He started to fall and Cyan put her hands up against his chest, catching his much heavier frame and rolling him onto his side of the bed. He still had his shoes on and she moved to the edge of the bed to unlace them. She refused to touch his socks. She’d change the sheets in the morning. Next, she undid his belt buckle and slid the thick strap of leather from him. She unbuttoned his pants but stopped there. It had been a year and one slipped disk since she had bothered removing his pants after he passed out. Cyan tossed a blanket over Jerome and went into the bathroom. Intending to catch only an hour or two of sleep, she had changed into sweats after coming home and she stepped out of these and into a short flannel nightshirt that Sharee had given her as a birthday present. It was a zebra stripe of blue and black. Like Nathan and Derian. Cyan snapped her head to one side, wondering why Nathan and Derian had popped into her mind at the same time. Perhaps because they were opposites. She shrugged at herself in the mirror, a frown creasing her brow when she noticed that her nipples were erect and chafing beneath the soft flannel. She slid matching panties on and then undid one of the middle buttons. She placed a palm beneath the fabric to warm the 25

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nipples into compliance. In the bedroom, Jerome let rip his first snore of the night. Shaking her head in irritation, she turned off the bathroom light and slipped into bed. After half an hour, Jerome’s snoring quieted and Cyan felt her thoughts begin to drift around the room, almost as if she was looking for her Black Knight in one of the dark corners. But I am here, Cyan. Cyan stiffened, her gaze scanning the room more quickly. The curtains rippled as if struck by a sharp wind and shadows flitted from the window to the corner chair. “Who-who’s there?” Cyan stammered. No one answered and her hand crept to her nightstand. She switched the bed lamp on and looked around the room. Nothing. Cyan turned the light off and sank back beneath the covers. Why are you hiding yourself? Slowly, Cyan let her gaze return to the corner chair. Yes, something…someone was there, his masculine frame filling the chair with shadows. Remove the blanket. Surprised at herself, Cyan did as she was requested. Moonlight from the window played across her thighs, the blue & black stripes of her panties almost discernible. She thought she heard the appreciative swipe of a tongue across his lips. Nice, but take them off. Cyan tilted her head to look at Jerome. He had moved out of his heavy sleep and was no longer snoring. Take them off. The voice inside her head remained calm, but commanding and she pushed the panties down over her hips. Slowly! The voice’s growing excitement thrilled her nipples, hardened her clit, as Cyan eased the panties over her legs in a slow tease. She tossed the fabric on the floor and pressed back against the mattress. Good, now spread your legs. Heart pounding, her breathing growing ragged, she did as she was told. The room’s cold air hit her clit, immediately sending a body-jerking bolt of electricity through her. She raised her ass off the mattress, inviting the dark figure to leave the chair and enter her. No. The voice was reduced to a gasp and the curtains rustled. Suddenly, Cyan knew he was touching himself while he watched her. 26

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Join me… Cyan raised her knees, her pussy on full display, and slid one finger into her juices. The voice moaned inside her and she began to stroke her clit, one finger joined by a second that played along the little nub before dipping down to force itself into her clenching pussy. That’s it, baby. Fuck that pussy. Palm pressed hard against her clit, Cyan worked her fingers inside her body, four fingers misshaping themselves into a cone. So fucking beautiful, baby. Come for me, baby. Come for me. I’m coming for you. The unbridled passion of his voice inside her head was too much and she bucked wildly against the bed, her orgasm squirting from her to wet her hand. Weakened, she pulled her fingers from her and wiped them along the sheet. Chest heaving, she propped herself up on her elbows and searched the corner for some sign of her dream lover. Like the ghost that he was—he had disappeared once again.

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Chapter Six

Every day Derian slid into the chair or couch next to her desk, either glowing with fresh compliments for her, or perhaps an apple or a flower he had picked on his way in. Daisy or dandelion, he presented each with as much child like enthusiasm and exuberance as she had ever seen. It tugged at her heartstrings. “Here’s a book you just have to read,” he said as he handed her a copy of Sandra Brown’s A Kiss Remembered.” She’d taken it home that night and read it, and told him about it the next day. “You were right about A Kiss Remembered, though I had read it once long ago, I had forgotten about the bond that seemed to be between them. They were destined to find each other again, how could they not, they were such a perfect match. It’s almost surreal in the way they lost touch, ever circling nearer until their story arc met back at the beginning. Makes me wonder…” but she let that phrase go; she didn’t want him to know she wondered about his presence in her life just now. There were many other romantic reads they shared and discussed that helped her see more of Derian’s insides, his motivation and she assumed he learned as much of hers. Cyan helped him with his art appreciation homework and his creative writing class. It was as though she was his private mentor and he became quiet upset if anyone else needed her time when he was around. Her daily encounters with Derian led to a closeness that was bound to have consequences. Cyan felt flattered. “Do you ever dream of me?” he said one day out of the blue. She flushed and found an excuse to rush out of the office with a memo that needed to go that very instant. *** Once out of the office, her mind raced with the recognition once again that he knew. He somehow used his mind to will his physical self into her bedroom. With Jerome passed out, he never heard her animal growls and squeals as she climaxed under the expert tutelage of her black phantom knight. 28

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Ever so slowly, Derian began to make advances toward her that undermined her common sense. It was then that her current status as an unhappily married woman placed a caution sign in her thoughts. What could a little harmless flirtation hurt? She pushed the thoughts out of her head. He hadn’t really taken any liberties with her, except in her dreams. *** Blissfully sated after her encounter with Derian the night before, Cyan was preparing the coffee for the morning crowd that visited the library/lounge area when Derian slipped in behind her and put his arms around her waist. She turned to look at him and he kissed her. It was a simple little kiss, short, sweet and quick, more of a peck hello, she decided. It nearly buckled her knees. She felt her face turn red and her vagina turn damp at the same instant. “No,” she said. Derian dropped his arms to his sides and stepped away. “I’m sorry. I really am sorry. I couldn’t help myself.” His gaze raked over her body and then he lowered his head, the motion focusing her attention on the bulging outline of his erection. “I get so lonely,” he said catching her gaze once more. “And you are so gorgeous. Do you know how bad I want you?” She was so immediately struck by his honesty, his sweetness, but frightened to death by her own longing. She was overcome with self, flattered that she could have that effect on someone. Deep inside her the moistness of her feelings testified to the lie she was telling. “This is against school policy and your prison release conditions. We can’t…” Cyan let her voice trail off. They had gone so far beyond a kiss last night and all those other nights. Unless of course, she was going insane. Derian hadn’t after all, acknowledged his nighttime visits. “We don’t dare have physical contact,” she said after another second’s thought. She felt slightly rebellious at the half shade of doing something that bent the rules. Even if it didn’t quite break them, she liked the feeling. However, she didn’t dare let it escalate, she could lose her job, and he could lose his freedom to come to school. “I was so excited with the news that I’ve been granted next semester too. I had to share it with someone and—well, whom else would I share it with? You’re the reason…you’re the reason I want to succeed. Before it didn’t matter, now it does,” he finished and watched her with hope blooming on his face. “Well, succeeding means staying out of prison, and that means not violating your release conditions,” she reminded him, the words coming out as more of a plea than the firm warning she had intended. Trying to hide her traitorous face, she turned back to the 29

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coffee maker. His body brushed against her for an instant and she stiffened, but he was only placing another paperback next to the coffee pot. She looked at the title. She suddenly got weak in the knees when she saw that it was Sensuous Woman by “J.” Heaven help me, she thought. He’ll seduce me into fucking him on the fifty-yard line during halftime. She turned around to reprimand him again but he was gone. “Nifty trick,” she said to the empty room. She picked up the book and returned to her office, quickly shoving the novel into her bottom drawer and telling herself that she’d throw it in the trash before she left for the evening. The last one usually out of the building, no one would see her with the risqué little paperback. But the morning dragged, the usual emergencies eerily held at bay, and Cyan found herself shutting her office door and retrieving the book from where she had buried it in her desk drawer. She looked at the inside cover. The print date was underlined and a warm flush heated her skin as she read it. 1969. She imagined Derian holding her in that position, his face buried between her labial lips, his cock hard and filling her mouth. She turned the page and began reading. By 2:00 p.m., Cyan was squirming in her chair, a light film of perspiration dampening her forehead. A knock at her office door left her scrambling to stuff the book back in its drawer and pull her face into a calm mask. She inhaled and held the breath for a second before answering the knock. “Come in.” Nathan opened the door, his lips slightly parted and his head tilted to watch her. “You busy or do you have a minute?” he asked. Cyan gestured at the couch. “Sure.” He stepped over the threshold, his hand still resting on the doorknob. “Is it okay if I shut the door?” Intrigued, Cyan cocked an eyebrow. “That would be fine,” she answered. Stiff and formal in his march to her couch, he seemed poised on the brink of asking her something. As she had a number of times in the past, she briefly wished she could read Nathan. There were so many people she could read but didn’t want to. Their pain crowded her thoughts, cried out to her for help. Some subconsciously found her an easy target because of this. Some, she thought, her mind flashing to Derian, seemed to know they could manipulate her with their pain. Nathan sat down on the couch. In contrast to Derian, he kept his legs close together and crossed at the ankles. His hands were loosely cradled in his lap. But his blue gaze was as intense as any she had ever seen and he was scanning her with it, a hot blue laser probing her for secrets. She shifted in her chair and pushed her penholder to the side of her desk. 30

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“What is it?” she asked after his quiet scrutiny became unbearable. “Yesterday, you seemed feverish…sick,” he started. “Today, you’re almost glowing.” He paused, and it didn’t take a mind reader to know that he wanted to say more. Cyan decided to wait him out and she tilted her head to return his careful examination. “Are you pregnant?” he burst out at last. The question was like a baseball bat to her chest and she stiffened reflexively. “No, I assure you, Nathan, I’m not pregnant.” He slumped in relief against the couch. “Good,” he said and caught himself. “I mean…I know you’d make a wonderful mother, Cyan…” She smiled, suddenly anticipating the source of his worry. “But?” she prodded. “Well, it’s just that I didn’t see Jerome…I mean…” At a loss for words, he glanced down at the carpet. “It’s okay,” Cyan said. “I know the time isn’t right for me to have a child.” She thought of her marriage to Jerome, his constant drinking and more than occasional belligerence. Her mind drifted to Derian. Would he make any better father? She frowned. “But I also know the time may never be right. Maybe I should just get a kitten.” “I can see Jerome kicking the kitten.” Nathan didn’t smile when he said it. Even if he had, Cyan wouldn’t have thought him joking. She, too, could see Jerome sending some small, furry creature flying across the room. “Better than kicking a baby,” she started and froze. “Christ, Nathan, I’m so sorry.” She stumbled over the apology and then buried her face in her hands. Had she really said something that stupid? “You don’t have to censor yourself, Cyan.” Nathan said and reached out to pat her arm. “It was just a stupid thing to say,” Cyan protested. “I mean, I don’t know how your…” Nathan finished the sentence for her. “How my daughter died?” Cyan nodded, her gaze focused on the wall calendar behind him. “Neither do the doctors or the coroner,” he continued. “She was two…so they could hardly call it crib death.” Fresh pain pricking at the back of his neck, his eyes misted. “I wasn’t at home when it happened,” he explained. “I was guest lecturing at Columbia for two weeks.” Cyan got up from her desk and sat down next to him. She placed her hand on his arm, trying to will him to forget the pain and remember only the smiling face of his 31

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daughter. She pictured an angelically chubby child with Nathan’s blond hair and blue eyes. Nathan slipped from her touch and stood up. “Don’t worry about it, Cyan,” he said and stepped over her outstretched legs. “It’s in the past and you have enough student emergencies to solve. I’ll be okay in a few minutes.” Cyan snaked her hand out and grabbed Nathan’s wrist. “I think of you as a friend, Nathan,” she said, her voice breaking with some emotion she couldn’t pinpoint. “I don’t want to see you’re hurting.” “You don’t have to, Cyan. I’m taking my hurt back to my office.” Nathan pulled his hand away and smiled down at her. The smile was a mixture of sadness and longing, a longing for his lost daughter, Cyan assumed. She watched him leave her office, closing the door behind him, and then she sank into the couch. Maybe, one day, she thought, he’ll open up to me. Cyan’s thoughts drifted back to Derian, it was as though she couldn’t stop from thinking of him. Cyan began to have a feeling in the pit of her stomach that Derian’s boldness indicated without a doubt, that he was sure of the spell he had her under. She could tell he was in control, not her. It didn’t matter. The small favors he asked for seemed so harmless. She felt if it made his stay comfortable, if it helped him find his selfworth so he could get on with his life and leave the incarceration, the prison walls, for good, then she was well within her rights to coddle him. What could it hurt to allow him a piece of herself in the bargain? She couldn’t deny making him feel good would feel good to her in return. What harm in a kiss between friends. It may never happen again, she told herself. Somewhere in her heart she knew she was lying. She could feel Derian’s gloat over his victory. It was as though he whispered in her ear, “the kiss was step one.”

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Colors of Lust: Black Knight

Chapter Seven

The rest of the week was a torment for Cyan. Derian didn’t stop by before class and his nocturnal visits stopped. By the time Sunday night rolled around, she was exhausted from night’s spent trembling in anticipation of his arrival. Her body was assaulted by Derian’s absence as surely as Jerome’s heavy buzz battered her ears. She flopped onto her back and pressed her eyelids shut. She tried to imagine Derian in his room at the Lost Bay facility. He was in trunks, his chest bare and a light mat of dark chest hair against his supple Indian brown skin. But the vision was a caricature. She didn’t feel him, couldn’t find her way across the astral plane to him. And he either couldn’t or didn’t want to find his way to her. She rolled onto her side and opened her eyes. Had she offended him in her reaction to his kiss? Or was he haunting the dreams of some other woman—one of the girls from class who would gladly find a broom closet on campus and spend a few hot minutes bumping and grinding against Derian’s hard body and thick cock. The thought of his cock made her mouth water and her vagina slickened in anticipation of receiving that smooth-skinned organ. She would call the registrar’s office in the morning and make sure he’d been attending classes. No one would think it odd— she regularly checked up on students, particularly the men from the Lost Bay facility. With that thought in mind, she got up and padded into the kitchen. She put water on for a cup of Chamomile tea, her gaze drifting out the kitchen window to the neighbor’s bean field. The field was narrow and edged by a line of trees. There, its eyes glowing in reflected moonlight, was a coyote. The animal lifted its head and released a mournful howl before vanishing into the woods. The hairs on Cyan’s neck and arms spiked to attention and she viciously rubbed a hand over them until they relaxed. She was accustomed to wildcats of all sizes prowling the field’s edges but this was the first time she had noticed a coyote. And the animal had seen her and, in its lone cry, revealed its soul. “Too freaky,” she whispered to herself, jumping a bit to the side as the kettle whistled its readiness. She poured the water over a sieve filled with tealeaves and then retreated to the front room. Her attaché was next to the couch and she reached in, easing 33

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J’s, Sensuous Woman from the case with embarrassing pleasure. She turned to the page she had dog-eared, her eyes scanning the pages for another underlined paragraph. The ink was only a few days old and she was sure Derian had underlined the passages— underlined them for her as a way of saying, this is what I want to do to you…this is what I’m going to do to you. But that was before she had overreacted to his friendly, exuberant kiss. Now she was left re-reading the passages, imagining his touch, aching for it from the very depths of her womb. Irritated, she turned the page, becoming instantly entranced by the descriptions of spread legs, lips on lips, tongues and fingers exploring moist depths. Cyan groaned and put the book back in her attaché. Leaving the cup on the side table, she turned off the light and retreated to her bedroom, the heat building between her legs with each step. Cyan slipped under the covers. For once, Jerome wasn’t hogging them. He was sprawled on his back, half covered, his naked torso a sickly white under the moonlight. Her gaze drifted down the length of his body to find the blanket tented with one of those mysterious erections men get while they sleep. Her pussy spasmed and she diverted her eyes. As much as she wanted a cock inside her, shoved deep, swelling to fill her, there was no way she would try to entice Jerome into the act. She’d suffered more than her share of humiliation as the erection he developed looking at porn in bed, dwindled beneath her soft hands. Her hand slipped under the covers and she fingered her clit, remembering the wanton abandonment her Black Knight had induced. She’d been able to climax that night without hearing her dead mother’s scornful chiding and threats of damnation. Cyan pressed harder against the little red button but the fire was dwindling. Her Black Knight had awoken something inside her and, without his presence; she was just some dirty girl touching herself, hoping her mother wouldn’t catch her in the act. Hand still stuck beneath her panties, she drifted off to sleep.

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Colors of Lust: Black Knight

Chapter Eight

Cyan was busy tapping away at her keyboard; she hadn’t noticed Derian slide into the chair in front of her desk. She jumped when he touched her arm, his body leaning toward hers. “Can you come in early tomorrow?” He whispered the question. Cyan looked at him without answering, a little amazed that he would follow such a long period of not showing his face in her office—or the common area—with a request of any sort. “Look,” he pressed. “The bus is coming early tomorrow—a whole hour early. If you come in and unlock the door I can meet you here before anyone else gets here,” he said his dark eyes sparkling mischievously. “I would love having you all to myself for a few minutes to watch you work. I adore the way you move. It’s so graceful.” Cyan wasn’t sure she should allow herself any more latitude with him. He was a bad idea. She was far from over him, but why sink back into doing whatever he wanted. He would grow even pushier and she knew she was in danger of acquiescing to his every wish. Even now her body was heating to his presence. Sensing her hesitation, he quickly offered another reason for his request. “Anyway you shouldn’t be carrying that heavy coffee pot full of water,” he said. You could mess up your back again.” Cyan started to ask him how he knew about her back, but he put a fingertip to her lips and silenced her. “Let me do it.” His gaze darted from the wide, heavy metal cylinder in the common area that held the water and back to her. Even though she had been carting it back and forth down the long stretch of hallway for a long time, her back muscles always felt pinched when she was done. It would be nice, she mused, to have someone help her for a change. Half ready to accept his offer, she turned to Derian. His lips were pursed as if ready to say something more to convince her, or maybe, just maybe to kiss her. She remembered the quick peck he had given her earlier, how her body had instantly responded when he slipped his arm around her. Even now, the memory made her wet. No, she couldn’t be alone with him. Could she? 35

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“That might not be such a good idea,” she said trying to buy time. “Well, let me fill it for you today,” Derian said. Feigning indifference, Cyan shrugged. He stripped his jacket off and strode across the common area to the coffee area. He lifted the empty water tank and headed down the hall to where the support staff lounge, with its refrigerator, microwave, and sink was located. He must have left the lounge door open because she could hear the heavy splash of water flowing into the coffee pot’s 48-cup water tank. His return pace was slower and Cyan watched through her open door. She could see his back, his shirt stretched taunt over muscles as they flexed, bulging and rippling. Stripped nude he would have made a gorgeous water bearer. Her mind’s eye painted the picture that nearly had her drooling with anticipation. The thought inflamed her senses. She had to deliberately shut down her mind. She could feel the heat growing in her secret place watching him, being alone with him, having him brush against her as he passed by her. Cyan’s breast swelled and her nipples hardened. She ached inside with an unfamiliar longing. Familiarity, too much time together, no, she shouldn’t. Her conscience told her no and she cautioned herself, but her rebellious side chastised her prudish moral stance. In the end, her body told her yes. She followed her body’s wishes. Turning, Derian caught her gaze and held it as he walked back into her office. His grin was suggestive, downright naughty. She spoke before she had to consider what she was saying. And Cyan found herself saying, “Okay, I’ll be here before 6:30,” Too much shared space. She felt the floor beneath her transformed to thin ice. Hot blades of her unrequited sexual desires would soon burn through the surface of her defenses. “Good,” he said, the grin widening. But Cyan turned away, ignoring him.

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Colors of Lust: Black Knight

Chapter Nine

Derian, all innocence the next morning, filled the coffee pot with water and sorted through a jumbled mess of incoming student flyers. He was there as promised. He showered her with attention, his voice as they worked side-by-side caressed her, but not once did he try to touch her or kiss her. He didn’t behave in anyway that could be deemed inappropriate She was relieved when the student assistants started filing in. She retreated to her office. Derian close on her heels. “Did you read Sensual Woman?” He probably knew that she had read it and re-read it, her hungry gaze devouring the pages, lingering over the underlined passages, while she imagined him reading over her shoulder. Cyan nodded. “I started to but I fell asleep.” Derian sidestepped her humor, “No one should fall asleep reading that woman. I wish I had met her,” his eyes took on a dreamy quality. “Was she right about women reaching their sexual peak in their thirties? Is it that way for you?” he asked innocently. Cyan’s skin flushed the hot burn of desire mixed with embarrassment raced up her neck to color her cheeks. “I’m afraid Jerome is not very interested in sex at the moment.” She blurted the words out, her gaze widening at her directness. Why did she say that? Why tell Derian anything of her sex life? It wasn’t any of his business. “Well if you tried any of those techniques from that book on me, you’d never be able to shut me off.” His black eyes locked on her amethyst eyes. She felt his power seeping into her mound. His gaze slipped to her breasts, she could feel its caress. Her nipples hardened immediately, as though he willed them to. “Did you read what she said about not letting a man you don‘t like touch you, even if he is your husband?” “That book is from the 60’s,” Cyan snapped. The number sixty-nine burned thorough her mind again as did the picture of her and Derian in that embrace. She cleared her throat. “And who said she knew everything?” Cyan asked. A nervous feather tickled in her throat. In her mind Cyan thought J brilliant, but she wasn’t about to reveal that to Derian. He was so open about sex, so unabashed, not ashamed or shy to talk about 37

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anything. Once again she found herself enchanted with his openness and wished he were her teacher--sensual woman trainer. Cyan quoted from the novel. “We were designed to delight, excite and satisfy the male of the species,” the words felt foreign, as if another had selected them for her. She looked at Derian. “Is that how you view women?” she asked. “These books need to go back on the shelves,” he said interrupting her thoughts his arm brushing against her as he leaned over to take the books from her desk. She stumbled over a reply and he chuckled as he picked up the books. “Yes, they do, but I can do that later.” Her amethyst gaze flashed a warning at him, but his chuckle only deepened as he walked out of the room. Dammit she wanted him to hold her or kiss her, despite the danger to her job and reputation. Hell she wanted more than that. Cyan was angry with herself for wishing that he would hold her and kiss her as passionately as she wanted him to. She wanted him to ravish her body with kisses, undress her and fuck her on the desktop. Instead, he was playing at being the perfect gentleman while she was consumed in a raging furnace of desire. The red flames of the furnace warped to satin sheets and mounds of bright satin pillows. She yanked her mind back from visions of Derian’s nude body reclining on red satin sheets surrounded by mounds of bright red satin pillows. Red was his color she thought heatedly. It drew out the lust in his eyes. “Stop it,” she said aloud. The two students bent over their books looked up at her out burst, “Excuse me,” Lee Ann said “Did we… “Never mind, having a problem with the computer,” she lied as the heat from that vision cooled she felt a dampness linger between her thighs. Let them look, she fumed. Cyan felt betrayed. Derian didn’t betray her exactly. Yet she felt he did, she was so sure that he wanted her alone for reasons other than getting to know her. She thought getting to know her would involve physical contact, and she ached because he had denied her that. He never said he wanted her. He never said— he apologized for kissing you remember. The morning’s denials left her aching for him. He had probed her sensibilities. Derian doesn’t lust after you, is that why you want him so bad? She pushed the thoughts away again and looked for the act she needed to document and support her one more claim she was making in the grant. Why am I such a prude? Why didn’t I make a pass at him? Let him know I was ready for whatever he wanted to give me. Her thoughts made her flush with selfconscious pleasure. 38

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Standing quickly, Cyan moved to her doorway. She let out a relieved sigh; he hadn’t left yet. She glanced back at her couch and realized why—his jacket was still neatly folded on top of the arm. She reached over and picked it up, holding it so that he could see it. A frown creased his forehead and he crossed the room hesitantly. He put his hand on the jacket, but didn’t move to take it form her. He studied her face, as if looking for an answer to a question he hadn’t yet asked. Cyan moved first, covering his hand with hers. “What is it?” “Would you answer my letters if I wrote to you?” he asked. Cyan stared into his black, bottomless gaze, not quite understanding his question. “We see each other every day. Why would you want to write to me?” she questioned. As soon as the words left her mouth, her heart began to beat an uneven rhythm against her chest. Her mind filled with imagined purloined letters sent across the ocean by couples that fate had separated after chance had tricked them into loving one another. The image was followed by one of Jerome thrusting a handful of letters under her nose. As though to ease her own guilt for her thoughts she said, “You can’t send letters to my home.” True there was no marriage left, but she didn’t need to fight over letters that showed up in their mailbox form another man if Jerome would even notice. She couldn’t chance it. “I want to get to know you. We are interrupted all the time here. You are so talented and so interesting. It is so lonely on the weekends when I don’t see you or anyone at the school. If I can’t reach out in letters, I will fall back into the lonely pit you rescued me from.” His words tumbled out in little boy begging fashion, so unlike his normal cock-of-the-walk attitude. Cyan had to smile. Derian’s mouth arranged itself into a pout that tugged at her heartstrings as he cast his gaze to the floor and shuffled from one foot to the other waiting for her reply. “I wouldn’t write to your home,” he assured her. “I’d send the letters here to the office, or you could get a post office box, and then no one would know I wrote to you except you and me. Please…” his brooding gaze held her to him. Cyan ached with desire but held on to her slipping sense of right and wrong. She felt sorry for him. “I am flattered that you think that of me,” she said, “It just isn’t a very prudent idea.” She started, her body screamed names at her. Prude! Ice Queen! She tried to shake the words, catch her slipping sense of right and wrong before it disappeared forever—burnt out by her passion for him. The pout twisted into something slightly venomous and he pulled his jacket out of Cyan’s arms. He spun around, his back to her as he stared out the window. He was silent for so long Cyan grew nervous. When he turned, he took her hand and held it over his heart. “I can’t see any harm in it,” he said the fervent tone drew the attention of nearby students 39

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and Cyan tried to discreetly pull her hand away, but he wouldn’t allow it. “I can’t rape you by letter can I? I can’t force you to have sex with me by letter. I’m in prison for crying out loud what would it hurt to write to me, to answer my letters to you?” His eyes pleaded with her. She could feel his heart pounding in the palm of her hand. Her defenses slid out from under her, and she swayed in his direction. “Okay,” she relented. “You can send them here.” Derian smiled and his hand snaked into his jacket. He pulled a pink envelope from an inside pocket and handed it to her before spinning on his heels and quickly stepping his way to the exit door.

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Colors of Lust: Black Knight

Chapter Ten

When his letters arrived, she read them voraciously, absorbing every sensuous word. His casual letters quickly turned to sizzling love letters. At first they read like a Nora Roberts novel. Suggestive, sensual, hot but just steamy enough. The latest letter arrived in the morning campus mail. She stuffed it into her purse. He told her all the delicious, scandalous things he’d like to do to her body. He wrote the stories of two lovers in graphic detail, soap opera fashion. Everyday the letters came, each hotter than the one before. She didn’t dare read them at her desk anymore. She had to park down at the beach to read them before she drove home. Each day she held her breath trying to stop the swelling in her vagina from squeezing her hot womanhood out into her panties. She held the letters as scripts for the nightly visits of the black-eyed lover who snuck into her bed, inside her dreams. His letters signified a tiny rebellion for her, an outlet for her passion. She rationalized it was a safe little distraction that allowed her to push just beyond the straight and narrow for a change. She needed to be a little dangerous without really doing anything wrong. Cyan convinced herself it was innocent, not wrong on her part. Derian and his letters gave her something to dream about to help relieve her sexual tension. Jerome didn’t touch her any more, but the letters from Derian were like foreplay, gently arousing her primitive needs and pushing her towards culmination. They filled her nights with unbridled sexual release. Jerome passed out from too much booze, either slept downstairs or laid in an alcohol-induced stupor next to her, he never felt her lover in the same bed with them. Cyan didn’t open the latest letter until she was home and Jerome was safely passed out in the living room. She opened the thick envelope and half a dozen sheets, both sides covered, spilled onto the bed. The letter began casually enough but soon turned sensuous. Cyan read it with a voracious appetite, steam building inside her. His words on paper were no less hot than if he’d spoken them in their shared dreams. I hold your ripe beasts in my hands, the nipples hard as marbles. I pull one nipple into my mouth, sucking on it like a hungry child, desperate for the nourishment that only you can provide. I nibble the hardened tips until you beg me to go further. 41

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Cyan paused to fan herself, the stirring of air kissing her nipples as they pushed through her lace bra to press against the silk folds of her blouse. She took the blouse off and tossed it to the floor. A second later, her bra was off and she was pressed back on the mattress, his letter held over her head. I want to feel the warm moist juices of your cunt enveloping my cock as it slowly, ever so slowly, slides in and out of your sweet pussy. Here he was, at last openly expressing his desire for her. She slipped her slacks and nylons off, only her dampened panties covering her. You moan as you feel the mushroom cap head of my cock expand your labial lips, a hunger seeking the nest it was meant to invade and satisfy. Your thighs clamp the thickness of my rod as it pulses ever deeper inside you, squeezing against your vagina walls. I nip at those hardened nipples and then thrust my tongue deep into your mouth, probing as my cock sinks deeper into your wet pussy. Deeper and deeper until I feel your walls contracting, milking my juices into you. The letter was only black ink on white paper, but the words burned insider her as if spoken in the heat of passion. Cyan stuffed the sheets of paper under her pillow and went into the bathroom. She turned the shower on, letting the water beat down on her breasts. She leaned back and spread the plump labial lips apart until the full spray danced along her clit. She turned her back to the showerhead and bent at the waist. The water hit the smooth, sensitive skin of her perineum. Soaping a washcloth, she started stroking her clit, cleaning her labia, while the spray beat against her ass and the spongy entrance to her vagina. The words from Derian’s letter came back to her, his cock sinking into her wet pussy. She jerked once, reaching out to support herself against the towel bar while she climaxed. In the letters and in the bedroom, she let him do what she told herself she would never let him do in real life. And she did to him, things she had never done for Jerome. Pen in hand, she re-read the letter, matching his declarations quid pro quo. It was a delicious, dangerous form of foreplay in which she spread her lips for him to lick, trailed her tongue along his shaft, circled his balls, laved the tip of his member and teased him with cold air. She held her breasts for him to suckle while she moaned his name and climaxed from the persistent rub of his fingers over her clit. She came and cried for more, her ass high in the air as she screamed into the pillow. Trembling, naked, her hands still curled around her letter to him. Cyan fell asleep.

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Colors of Lust: Black Knight

Chapter Eleven

Derian slipped into her office before the first student assistant showed up. He shut the door and came around her desk, standing behind her, his body rigid in anticipation. “Did you read it?” he asked, a tight edge to his voice. “Yes.” Cyan stammered the word out. “Did you write back?” Cyan reached into her purse, her hand shaking. When he saw the envelope, Derian snatched it from her and tore it open. His eyes scanned the flowery phrases she started the letter with, fastening at last on the sensual body of words. “Stand up,” he commanded, his attention still fixed on the letter. Cyan did as she was told and he pushed her chair out of the way. He wrapped an arm around her waist, his free hand fondling her breast. “Derian—” “Shhh.” He hissed the admonition. He pressed himself more tightly to her, his groin bumping against her in a dry fuck. “Why’d you wear pants today?” he asked. When she didn’t answer, he changed his line of attack. He flashed one of her pages in front of her face, his other hand squeezing her already taut nipple. “Do you really want to do this with me?” “Yes.” The word escaped in a moan and she realized that she had started to grind her ass against him. Derian folded the paper up and stuffed it into his jeans pocket. “Bend over.” Cyan turned, pupils widening in protest, but he spun her around and forced her to balance against her desk. “Don’t worry,” he said and continued to grind against the fabric covering her ass. “The position’s better for this…how we’re clothed and all,” he explained. Cyan relaxed a little and he told her to spread her legs wider. She complied and the friction between her thighs became more heated. The seams of her pants rubbed against her clit until she was pumping her ass up and down, heartbeats from climaxing. Derian thrust Cyan’s body further over her desk as he reached for her box of tissue. He was breathing in great, ragged bursts and she spun around, her gaze dropping 43

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to his exposed cock. His hand, full of wadded tissue, clamped down on the head just as he ejaculated. The sight was enough to push Cyan over the edge to reach her own orgasm. Blindly, she reached out for her chair and sank into it. When she opened her eyes, he was smiling at her, the cocky grin telling her that he owned her. And it was true, Derian knew exactly how to arouse her and he left her no breathing room once he began. Anger at his complete possession of her filled Cyan and she swiveled the chair to face her computer. “Stuff your cock back in your pants and open my office door,” she said. He hesitated, half daring to press his luck. Then he shrugged. “Whatever. I have to get to class anyway.” With Derian out of the office, Cyan returned her attention to the semester report she was preparing. She was starting, she realized, to fall behind on her work. Not just what she did for the school, but her graduate thesis as well. It was the only academic requirement remaining for her master’s degree in counseling and she hadn’t touched it since the dreams began. Her Black Knight, she thought and released a bitter laugh, was quickly turning into a Black Pit. Fury lending her fingers speed, she hammered out the last of the report and left for an afternoon meeting. *** When she began reading Derian’s letters at home after Jerome passed out somewhere so her fever could be cooled or left to climax which ever seemed more appropriate, then she could write to him with the steam heat that bubbled inside her. To his “hands manipulating your ass,” she returned with "her cunt massaging his rod". He taught her the language she had been too chaste to use. “I want your ass baby. That cute little apple butt in my hands a perfect fit. My tongue will trail down between those cheeks straight to your clit, and then you’ll feel what no man has taught you yet. I can tell from your eyes you’ve never had whore sex and you need it. Baby you need it with me.” In the shower with the hot spray beating against her nipples, she fantasized Derian nibbling at them. The pulsating surges of hot water stoking her vagina became Derian’s hands searching where his letters told her he wanted to search, to touch, to kiss, to suck. She would climax the second she touched her vulva with a washcloth. It was as though he knew how empty her life was. He seemed to know exactly how to arouse her and he left her no breathing room when he began.

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Colors of Lust: Black Knight

Chapter Twelve

Derian’s public advances became more daring. He would purposely run a hand across her buttocks or pretend he needed to reach a book above her so he could rub his hardness against her and whisper, “You could have that any time, just say when.” Cyan thought perhaps he was beginning to sense how he affected her, how his love letters had become her panacea to a dead marriage. He would brush up against her while she was returning books to the shelves in the library. She could feel the hardness in his groin, but refused to understand with her mind that she aroused him. Though her nipples hardened at what she presumed was his innocent brush against them as he reached past her, her own arousal was obvious to her but not to him she thought. She could feel the heat rise to her face. Cyan discounted the affect his presence had on her. When he deliberately reached a hand around and caressed her breast, Cyan froze and let him hold her briefly. She was afraid to enjoy the sensation that rushed through her and made her light-headed. She brushed his hand away. He turned raising her chin so she looked him square in the eyes, “I’m sorry. I thought you wanted me to touch you there. Your nipples are so hard. They are asking even if you aren’t,” he brushed a kiss against her cheek. Cyan blushed and nervously looked around to see if anyone might have been watching. “Don’t worry,” he whispered hot breath near her cheek drawing her closer. “I looked to be sure no one was around.” He cupped her chin in his hand and raised her head. Derian kissed her gently and pushed her hips into his pelvis with a hand on her ass cheek. He sucked on her lower lip. She pushed away from him, scooted past him, trying to compose herself as she returned to sit behind her desk. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you. I want you so bad Cyan, it’s driving me nuts.” Cyan had no answer for him. Instead she stared out at the lake beyond the office window. Waves churned white foam mimicking her churning, tumultuous insides. She was married. He was a prisoner. In reality, they were both prisoners of a different sort, but prisoners nonetheless. She looked at those dark brooding eyes, what did he hope to gain? They could arouse each other, they could neck. They could pet at stolen moments, 45

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but why create a need they couldn’t fulfill. On the other hand, should she let him enjoy the brief pleasure he could steal at her expense? Would she dare admit to herself that she was being fed by his advances? She enjoyed his attention even though she couldn’t admit it to herself. She enjoyed getting what had been absent in her life for so long at home. Cyan was driving herself crazy with arguments and rationalizations. Why couldn’t she just let go and live what was–in the now as the catch phrase went. She thought about the sexless, loveless existence she had been living with Jerome. They had stopped having sex a long time ago. The alcohol, his affairs, masturbating to the centerfold of playboy was his release now days, all heaping debris on her pile of hate for him. “All men have affairs,” he said when she confronted him about those she heard of. Jerome was nonchalant, nearly cavalier, making her feel unattractive. Like it was her fault he couldn’t, didn’t become aroused by her body. Here was this buck, this hard body, sexy bronzed and bold male who craved her body why was she turning him down? The thoughts crossed her mind, he was a sailor on shore leave—a prisoner with no sexual outlet. That’s why she was attractive to him. Like a drunk at a bar the later the hour the sexier the women. That’s what Jerome or her mother would say, wouldn’t they? She knew the answers. She defiantly pushed them away. Her upbringing shouted at her, her moral code told her it was wrong. Sirens of warning went off in her head, but her desires told her what she needed. The battle raged within her on a daily basis. She wasn’t new to the crushes the male students had on her. Every semester there was another one. She learned to discount this as familiarity and her open helpfulness made them feel good and they turned that into a sort of puppy love, but this time it was different. With the others, their attentions, their fascinations, would fade once they got into the mainstream and they found young women to aim their needs at. This was no starry-eyed, love-starved, young man. This was a full-blown lusting adult male nearly her age and he wanted her body and the pleasure it could give him. She wanted his body and the ecstasy it promised her. So why was she fighting? Why? Derian took to stealing kisses when no one was around. She couldn’t call it stealing any more because she let herself return them. She was as hungry for them as he was. Sometimes he would back her into an office wall and press his hardness into her and caress her breast or stroke her buttocks. She was as hungry for those stolen moments as a bitch dog in heat. “See what you do to me. You’re driving me crazy. I have to have you,” he said. Then he kissed her a long wet French kiss tangling her tongue and her senses with his taste and smell. She couldn’t resist his fondling because she needed it as much as he wanted her. 46

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One afternoon she went to the main library to do some research for her thesis. When she returned to her office, there was a Post-it note on her computer monitor. The note had the call letters and numbers of a local country station and a time for her to listen: 11:00 p.m. to midnight tonight. Cyan crumpled the note and threw it in her trashcan.

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Chapter Thirteen

Derian sauntered into Cyan’s office the next morning and handed her a list of song titles—all the songs that had been played between eleven and midnight last night. Cyan knew because she had listened, listened so intently that the songs began to play tricks on her mind. She became the wronged one, the broken heart that needed mending, the angel in waiting. All the agony of tortured love became her and she was transformed into Derian’s woman. And then he came to her as she slept. The dreams were more vivid than before, as if he were materializing above her and no longer merely projecting his image across the miles. His dick sank into her, filling her, satisfying every need. In the morning, she woke tired and musty smelling, as though she had spent every hour between midnight and 5:30 a.m. having sex. She wasn’t sure she hadn’t. “Was it good for you?” he asked. “The songs were mostly lonely songs, heart broken, weary songs,” she said. “You know that’s not what I’m talking about,” he said. Cyan felt the red rush of her lust spread over her body and to her face. “What do you mean?” “I mean the warmth of my body sliding over yours, drinking in the feel of your soft skin,” he answered. “Didn’t you feel me at your hard nipples, brushing against the little tuft of hair covering your mound. The sex.” His gaze widened in disbelief that she would continue to disclaim the connection. He leaned in, his lips centimeters from her ear. “Don’t tell me you didn’t feel me inside you, riding your body like a stud on a mare.” When she didn’t answer, he pulled back. “I know you slept in the nude last night on the left side of the bed. I licked the little scar between your breasts—” Cyan put her hand to her chest, subconsciously covering the two-inch scar from where she had a pre-cancerous mole removed. Had she worn a blouse that had shown it? She shook her head. No, the scar was too low down. She’d never wear a blouse that revealing. She shook her head again, this time meeting his dark gaze. “I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean,” she insisted and turned away before the anxiety churning through her expression exposed her lie. 48

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“So you didn’t feel my tongue slither the length of that scar, down to your cunt to sucking your clit, until your pussy reached a heated peak?” Listening to the words pour from him, she started to get wet again. She balled her hands into fists, trying to regain her composure. Her gaze darted around the area of the common room visible through her open door. Derian wasn’t even trying to keep his voice in the heavy, heated whisper in which he had started the conversation. Someone was going to overhear them if they already hadn’t. “You have a vivid imagination,” she said. As with yesterday’s note, she crumpled his song list into a ball and threw it in the trash. “I have work to do.” “Okay, you play the shy violet, but I know different,” he warned. “I know I was with you last night. I know what your body smells like in heat. I had you.” Derian turned abruptly and left without another word. Cyan felt his disgust and anger, but she tried to ignore it. Concentrate on something else she told herself. Cyan shuffled through the papers on her desk. There was nothing pressing to do. She had worked late last night, staying at the office until she was caught up, arriving at home just in time to turn the radio on and listen to the first song. She opened up the Internet browser and pulled a few articles she needed for her graduate thesis. She was rising from her chair to fetch the articles from the printer in the common room when she caught Nathan standing in her doorway, his blue gaze fixed on her. “You’re working too hard,” he suggested. “You didn’t leave until almost ten last night.” “I had work to catch up on,” Cyan said, returning to her chair. “Caught up?” he asked. Cyan nodded. “Then you should take a long lunch, we could get a bite at the mall…I have some birthday shopping to do for my sister and have no idea what to get her.” He was asking her to go shopping with him? The idea seemed alien, the contemplated act, too intimate. The only man a woman went shopping with was her husband. Her cheeks colored a light pink at the thought of other things a wife was supposed to do only with her husband. Embarrassed, she stuttered out her intent to work on her thesis. Nathan waved his hands in the air. “No, by all means, you should work on your thesis…it’s all that you have left, right?” Cyan nodded and he smiled. “Good, then I’ll be able to get you in the position I want you in.” “Position?” Cyan’s gaze widened. The whole room was tainted with the morning’s act of lust and the word conjured illicit images—not of her and Derian but of her and Nathan. Christ, her mother’s death bed prediction was right, she was turning into 49

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a whore and the last thing Nathan needed, after his sociopath ex-wife, was a whore lusting after him. “In my office,” he answered. The explanation did nothing to erase the image of the two of them locked in a steamy embrace, her riding Nathan’s cock as he reclined against the overstuffed leather chair that fronted his desk. Cyan shook her head slowly from side to side. “I’m not following you, Nathan.” “Away from all the clerical monotony that goes with your current position, helping students on a larger scale…more proposal work, designing programs,” he answered in greater detail. “Things I know you’d be great at but the school won’t let you do it without the damn piece of paper.” He caught her frown and corrected himself. “I know it’s not a ‘damn piece of paper’ to you but, ten years down the road, you might think differently.” Nathan shrugged and turned back to the door. “Anyway, your thesis takes priority over my shopping for my sister. Besides, if I get really stuck, I can always buy a town for her on some online auction.” He winked at Cyan as he left—the gesture producing a sympathetic tightening of her stomach and chest. It was all she could do to stumble out to the printer and pick up the articles. She locked the door and sank onto the couch, tears pooling in her eyes. The first one slipped, followed by a torrent. She thought of the letter. Derian had proof of her flirtation with him. If she tried to break things off with him, he could use it against her. She shuddered, unsure whether it was from fear of losing her job, seeing Nathan’s gentle confidence in her warp to distaste, or losing the possibility of sexual release that was the promise of Derian. All three, she thought and sobbed against the couch’s stiff cushion. After a few more minutes of self-loathing, Cyan returned to her desk and opened a new word document. Highlighter in hand, she picked out the relevant text from the articles that would support her thesis. Having over-prepared in putting together her thesis proposal last semester, she could afford the time she’d lost these last few weeks. She turned the heat burning in her into an academic passion and started typing, her fingers flying almost as quickly as the arguments racing through her head. At 5:30, Mary, one of the senior student assistants, knocked on her door and Cyan was stunned to find that she had pounded out 20 pages of a rough draft. “You’re not working late again?” Mary asked. Cyan shook her head. “Nope.” She looked at the girl and found fear projected in her face. “Anything the matter?” 50

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“I was just hoping we could walk out to our cars together,” Mary answered, her sharp gaze picking out stains on the carpet. “Has anything happened?” Cyan asked. She rose and pulled Mary into the room, shutting the door behind her. “It’s just one of the Lost Bay boys…” Mary started and then clapped her hand over her mouth. She pulled her hand away a second later. “Sorry, I know you don’t like that.” “It’s not like I don’t think that on occasion,” Cyan said and placed a comforting arm around Mary’s shoulder. “But you’d never say it.” Cyan shrugged then fixed her worried gaze on Mary. “It’s not Sharee’s cousin, Derian, is it? He hasn’t been bothering you?” Jealousy warred with concern at the thought. “No, it’s some jerk named Stone,” Mary answered, oblivious to the relief that flooded Cyan’s expression. “He’s always hovering around me and leaving when I do.” The name was familiar, but Cyan had to admit that she’d only been paying attention to one Lost Bay Boy this semester. Her failure to tend to the other students was just another sign to her that she had to end things with Derian before it spiraled out of hand. Like a cold slap to the face, she heard her mother’s voice. Who are you kidding, girlie, it’s already spiraled out of hand. Cyan scratched at her ear to drive the voice away. “Have you talked to campus security?” Cyan asked. “I thought maybe I’m just being over-sensitive or egotistical…” Cyan’s gaze swept over Mary’s small frame. She was slim at the waist but top and bottom blossomed into a perfect hourglass. True to her Irish heritage, she had a coppery halo of hair that drew men like flies to amber honey. Mary was temptation enough for an honest man to follow after her like a lost puppy—let alone some felon who probably hadn’t slept with a woman for years. “Well, I’ll walk with you to your car, see if he follows and then, maybe we can talk to campus security tomorrow?” Cyan suggested. Mary nodded and exhaled a relieved sigh. “I’ll get my stuff.” Cyan stuffed the articles and a print out of her rough draft into a folder and put it in her attaché case. She locked her office door and then turned to Mary’s desk, her gaze tripping over a hulking brute at the table next to Mary. Stone, indeed. He was hulking, the size of his chest and arms suggesting some kind of steroid use. He wore a flannel shirt and his head was shaved, crimson tattoos swirling from his neck to his temples. He 51

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looked like a human dragon readying to make a light, toasted snack out of Maid Mary. Cyan shot him a dark look as she approached Mary’s desk. He shifted and his hand dropped to his lap. The ploy had its intended effect—Cyan’s pupils dilated nervously at the heavy bulge that threatened to leap out of his jeans. “Ready?” Cyan asked. Tongue-tied in fear, Mary nodded and shouldered her backpack. Cyan looped her arm through Mary’s and they headed out to the parking lot. Twenty paces outside the doors to the common room, they heard Stone slamming the door shut as he exited the building. “Guess that’s him,” Cyan quipped in an effort to ease the fear that trembled through Mary. “Y-yes,” Mary stuttered. “I feel like he’s mentally bending me over my desk and raping me, the way he looks at me sometimes.” The image was too close to Cyan’s encounter with Derian that morning and she felt her own fear begin to build. Was Derian all that different from Stone? A little smoother, perhaps. Definitely smarter. And then there was that whole astral projection thing he had going for him. But, stripped of those attributes, wasn’t he really just a steroid-free version of Stone? “You’re shaking,” Mary said. “Are you afraid, too?” “No,” Cyan lied. “Just cold.” She pulled her coat tighter around her. “Look, tomorrow morning, I’m getting security to add someone to our building. The days are getting a lot shorter and it’s too dark by the time you have to leave…by the time any of the women working in the building have to leave.” She paused, wondering how far she could press a man like stone. “And I’ll have Alesia check Stone’s background…make sure he isn’t in for anything approaching sexual assault.” Grateful tears misted Mary’s eyes. She popped the lid to her trunk and tossed her backpack into it, then turned to hug Cyan. The close contact put Cyan completely in Mary’s mind and she squeezed the girl tightly. “It’s okay,” Cyan said and brushed the copper mane from Mary’s face. “No one is going to hurt you again.” Mary pulled back and wiped a tear from her cheek. “How can you tell?” she asked. “I mean…you said again.” Cyan shook her head and ran a hand along Mary’s arm to clasp the girl’s hand. “Don’t worry, you haven’t been branded on the outside. No one else can see it.” Mary looked to where Stone was standing five cars down. Her gaze returned to Cyan. “No one?” she asked, her voice a doubt-filled whisper. 52

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Cyan gently shushed her and put her hand in the small of Mary’s back. She guided her to the car door and watched her climb inside. Before closing the door, she bent down, her cheek pressed against Mary’s hair. “No one,” she assured the girl. “And he will stop following you,” she promised. *** Cyan’s night was passed in loneliness. Jerome came home late from the bar. He parked his van in the driveway and crawled into the back to pass out. Cyan took the keys from the ignition and tucked them under her side of the bed. Before, she thought as she locked the front door, she would have tried to haul him from the van, prodding him into a semi-wakeful state so that he wouldn’t freeze. Now, she didn’t feel as much as the need to toss a blanket over him. Crawling into bed, her growing indifference to Jerome’s health warmed her. It shouldn’t have, she knew. It was a sign of her soul’s deterioration. Jerome was a big, stupid, careless drunk, but he was still a human being with real problems that she should try to solve. But she had irrevocably stopped caring. At least Derian was good for something, she thought and, rolling to her side, fell into a heavy sleep undisturbed by visions of her Black Knight or that waterlogged creature that once went by the shining name of Audrey Rose.

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Chapter Fourteen

Sharee breezed into the office and plopped her ample derriere on the corner of Cyan’s desk. “Okay so tell me, what the hell are you doing to my cousin?” she said. “Excuse me?” Cyan turned her surprised gaze in Sharee’s direction. She hadn’t seen Derian or his nighttime alter ego, since she had tossed his little list of songs into the trashcan. He had, she realized either lost interest, or was punishing her. At this point, it didn’t matter. Driven with the need to force her mutinous body into submission, Cyan had completed her full rough draft of her thesis. “He’s coming unglued,” Sharee jabbed on manicured fingernail in Cyan’s direction. “He’s going to get sent back to prison. You’ve got to talk to him tell him to settle down.” “What do you mean?” Cyan asked. Was Derian in trouble? Was that the reason he hasn’t been by? “What is he doing?” she asked, refusing to let hope bloom in her chest. “He’s been in a fight with Stone, another inmate…” Sharee answered. He’s another inmate. “I know who Stone is,” Cyan interrupted. “He was stalking one of my students and I reported him to security a few days ago.” “Well,” she continued. “Stone and Derian have been going at it every night for the last few nights and the brass at Lost Bay is threatening one more incident, and they both go back to the big house.” “So why is it my fault?” Cyan said, her heart banging in her chest like some giant pendulum. “Stone apparently bragged to Derian that he fucked you,” Sharee said, the blunt words falling from her tongue like a weather report. “Say what?” Cyan said, anger bubbling up in her throat. “That’s a crock. Stone’s just trying to get even because I stopped him from stalking Mary.” She felt her anger rise from the pit of her stomach to her face. Embarrassment followed fear of being discovered hot on the heels of all this caused her to bolt from her chair.

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Sharee raised her hands in surrender. “Hey, I’m only repeating what I was told. You know the Indian grapevine is better than any telephone, telegraph or tele-woman around. Derian says you’re his and if Stone lays a dick on you, he’ll cut it off for him.” “Well it’s a lie,” Cyan protested hotly, “and Derian should know better.” “Why’s that?” Sharee asked her brows lifting. When Cyan didn’t answer, Sharee pressed harder. “Derian says you’re his and if Stone lays a dick on you he’ll cut it off for him.” Sharee repeated the phrase making Cyan’s blood boil. No one owned her. Not any more. Cyan could feel the blood rush to her face. What kind of rumors and half-truths were flying around the school? And, if Sharee was hearing the rumors, what other staff members had also been privy to the same gossip? Nathan. The thought of Nathan finding out was, for some reason, too much. Cyan brushed past Sharee as she picked up a stack of books that needed to be re-shelved. “Look it’s not like I control those men and their fantasies.” “This is Sharee you’re talking to girl,’ her friend said. Sharee kicked her leg out and closed Cyan’s door. “I see the looks you and Derian exchange. Don’t try to tell me he isn’t getting some from you.” “Give me a break. Look around you. There is a wall full of windows over there– offices all around this one.” Cyan threw her hands up in the air. “Where do you think Derian and I are banging it out in rhythm to the tribal drums?” “Knowing my cousin he’d screw you on the floor behind your desk if he thought he could get away with it.” “I’m a married woman!” Cyan said. “Funny that wasn’t the first point for you to bring up,” Sharee said, her voice soft and understanding. Cyan felt anger and embarrassment rising from the pit of her stomach and marching toward her face. “If you think I can talk Derian out of making up tales to cause uproar at the Lost Bay facility, or to stop Stone from broadcasting the fantasies he seems to be having, I’m afraid you’re barking up the wrong tree.” Cyan said her voice as flat as she could press it. “No one tells Derian what to say, think, or do. I never even talked to Stone, so I can’t tell him anything either.” “Talk to Derian, okay?” Sharee slid off the desk, turned on her heels and started to strut out the door leaving Cyan to puzzle what was going on. Cyan tugged her back into the office. “I haven’t seen your cousin three days,” she said, defeat sinking in. “How am I supposed to talk to him?” 55

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“I’ll send him by,” Sharee promised. “But you have to understand, if he goes back in, he probably won’t ever come back out.” Cyan swallowed the lump forming in her throat and nodded. “Just send him to me.” Turning her attention to a new grant proposal she was working on, she put the conversation with Sharee out of her mind. This one was for the rights to a Native American art collection that some dying European wanted to donate. She tried to focus, her attention split between the proposal and the clock. When Derian didn’t show by lunchtime, she put the proposal down and headed to the teacher’s lounge. There was a potluck for some retiring professor she didn’t know across campus and the lounge was dead, its stillness infecting her so that she almost screamed when Derian slipped in behind her and grabbed her ass. “What the hell are you doing?” she hissed despite the heat building between her thighs. Derian gave her a puzzled frown. “You told Sharee you wanted me. Here I am.” He cupped both her ass cheeks and pulled her to him, his erection pressing against her stomach. “I want you, too. Can’t you tell?” “I told Sharee to send you here because she’s worried about you and Stone,” Cyan said. “That’s all.” “If that’s the way you want it…” he said and turned to leave. “Wait,” Cyan said and grabbed his shoulder. “Not here.” “Where?” She shook her head. “Tell me what’s going on with Stone, first.” He shrugged. “Stone’s an asshole. He’s pissed because you had security brought in and he wants Sharee’s attention. He’s trying to blackmail her into fucking him.” “I thought he wanted Mary?” she said and then wished she hadn’t. “Mary’s just a toy. He was trying to make Sharee jealous with her.” “How does he know?” Cyan asked, her gaze nervously flicking between Derian’s face and the lounge door. “Know what?” he asked but the lurid smile on his face told her he understood her question. “About us,” she stammered. “Just guessing…there’s nothing for him to know…yet.” Like a black panther, Derian circled Cyan, guiding her until her back was pressed against the wall. He pushed against her, his chest flattening her breasts. He reached down and cupped her ass again. “Nice,” he murmured as his tongue tickled the lobe of her ear. 56

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Cyan tried to push him away, her body protesting. A tremor ran through her. “Shhh…” he cooed, his hands playing over her ass. “Don’t worry about Stone. I’ll take care of him.” Despite the danger of someone walking in on them, Cyan relaxed. It was the opening Derian was looking for. He spun her around, his erection pressed between her ass cheeks. “You’ve been wearing a dress or skirt every day for the last three days,” he told her. “How do you know?” The question came out in a passionate stutter. “I know,” he said, the words vibrating against her neck as he nuzzled her hair. Cyan tried to push off from the wall but he stopped her, his hands tight on her hips. “I want your ass, baby. That cute little apple butt in my hands is a perfect fit.” He licked her ear and ran a hand up her stomach to tease her nipple. “I’m going to trail my tongue between those cheeks, straight to your clit and then you’ll feel what no man has made you feel yet,” he promised. He turned her head until she was lost in his black gaze. “I can tell from your eyes you’ve never had dirty sex and you need it.” He kissed her, his tongue warring with hers and winning as she moaned into his mouth. “Baby, you need it with me.” When Derian released her, Cyan managed a muttered “Don’t.” “Don’t?” Derian laughed. “You want me to touch you, Cyan. Your nipples are so hard, they’re asking me even if you won’t.” He squeezed her tit. “Come on, baby, there’s nothing to be afraid of.” “There’s everything to be afraid of,” Cyan protested. “We’ll get caught—” He put a fingertip over her mouth. “Not if we’re careful.” He kissed her, hard, sucking the breath from her body until she thought she would faint. “I want you so bad, Cyan, it’s driving me nuts.” Cyan thought of Jerome and the loveless, sexless marriage she had endured for so long. Derian, this hard bodied, sexy, bronzed and bold male, craved her body, promised her the heights of sexual ecstasy. Hadn’t she wished he would be her teacher—her sensual woman trainer? Their situations were so similar. He was a prisoner with no sexual outlet. She was trapped in her marriage. Why was she turning him down? Sensing her hesitation, Derian took her hand and pressed it against his cock. “See what you do to me. You’re driving me crazy. I have to have you,” he said. Then he kissed her. Cyan’s knees buckled and the last of her resistance fell to the carpeted floor. “When?” she asked, breathless from his ardor. 57

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“Tomorrow,” he said, pulling away from her, his gaze victorious. “Come early…like before.” She nodded, hungry for more. “Tonight?” Derian dashed her hopes with a sharp shake of his head. “Save it for tomorrow, baby.” He started to leave then turned back. “Where that pink pleated skirt,” he said. “No underwear or pantyhose.” He leaned over, his hot breathe in her ear. “Leave your office door unlocked tonight and I’ll be there when you get in.”

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Chapter Fifteen

The next morning, freshly showered, a cold draft teasing her bare bottom, Cyan walked into her unlit office. She reached to turn the light on, Derian’s voice stopping her. “Shut the door first.” She shut and locked the door, then turned the light on. He was standing in the corner, his gaze fixed on her. “Take your coat off.” Cyan eased out of her coat and tossed it on the couch. Derian crooked a finger at Cyan and she approached him, but he held his palm up when she was halfway across her office. “Turn around,” he said. Cyan complied, her body shivering in anticipation. “Good, put your hands on the desk.” Again, she did as Derian ordered. She felt a cold rush of air as he lifted her skirt. He bent down and stuck his tongue between her thighs. Cyan moaned and pushed against his tongue. Jerome had never done anything like that. Even the porn he leafed through in bed next to her only showed women administering oral sex. Derian groaned at the taste of her liquid excitement. “God, I want you so bad I can’t close my eyelids. I have no skin left.” He unzipped his pants and she turned in time to watch it spring free. The tip was fully engorged, the small slit at the top already oozing pre-cum. Her pussy contracted, wanted the thick piece of meat inside her, pumping her with its cream. “You’re so wet,” Derian moaned. “You want me, baby?” he asked. His hand squeezed the base of his cock in offering. “You want me to fuck that sweet, wet pussy?” Cyan felt herself on the verge of fainting and she gripped the edge of the desk but he pulled her down to the floor. He pushed her against the carpeting, her ass facing him, her breasts flattened against the floor. “I’m sorry, baby,” he groaned against her ear as he buried his cock in her. “I’ll explode if I don’t fuck you now.” 59

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Derian forced her legs wider and began pumping in and out. Despite the rough touch, Cyan reveled in the feel of his cock tearing into her pussy, stroking her inner walls, forcing them to expand with his heavy width. She moaned, the sound only encouraging Derian to pump harder. “You like it hard, don’t you, baby?” Derian grunted. He rose to his knees and grabbed her hips, ramming his cock into her. “Makes that pussy wetter and tighter doesn’t it?” “Yes,” she hissed, her body on the verge of climax. “Tell me you want it harder, baby,” Derian ordered and pulled all but the tip of his cock from her. Cyan felt the sudden loss and a sob broke from her chest. “Don’t stop.” “Tell me,” his voice was tight, bordering on cruelty. “Yes!” Cyan relented. “Harder. I want you to fuck me harder.” He plunged into her, his balls slapping against her thighs. Her body was jarred forward with each stroke and she contracted around him in a quivering mass of muscles, her orgasm ripping through her so roughly she had to bite into her palm to keep from screaming. Derian collapsed on top of her, locked in his own orgasm. She felt his semen filling her and her muscles working of their own accord to milk every last drop of the precious fluid. When the last squirt ended, she wriggled her ass against him. More, she wanted more. More fucking, more filling. More Derian. She would never have enough of him now. “I’m sorry, Cyan,” he said and withdrew from her. His kissed her neck while he pulled her skirt over her ass. “It should never have to be hasty like that. There’s so much more I want to give you. Not just some slam, bam, thank you, ma’am scenario.” He pulled her to him, a second’s cuddle before he rose to the couch and stuffed his limp penis back into his pants. “I want to show you what great lovemaking is all about.” That was great, Cyan thought but his tenderness still touched her. She lifted herself onto her knees, her thighs still quivering from the exertion. He was looking at her, his gaze trying to convince her that he hadn’t been too rough but that he had wanted to be gentler. “It’s okay,” she said and kissed him. He nodded, his relief reminding her of the first day she had seen him surrounded by his little-boy-lost persona. He stroked her cheek, a small grin lighting his face. “We need to get you put back together before someone comes in.” 60

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Put back together? She puzzled over the words. He was right, she was in pieces, her body warring with her brain. She pushed the thought away and joined him on the couch. She had panties stuffed in the inside pocket of her coat and she slipped them on. Derian’s eyes devoured the sight of her dressing. She opened a package of panty hose, his gaze traveling the length of her legs as she pulled the hose up. “God you are so sexy,” he said. “If you aren’t careful we will have to start all over again.” He stood and pulled her into his embrace. “Next time,” he said. “I want to fuck your ass. You have such a cute, tight ass. This time I needed, we both needed raw sex, but next time…” He patted Cyan’s behind suggestively and kissed her neck before retreating to fill the coffee pot’s water tank, before she could voice her protest. Cyan returned to her desk and turned her computer on. She heard the student assistants filing in a few minutes apart. One of the guys offered Derian a suggestive greeting, expressing no surprise at the Lost Bay Boy’s early appearance. Cyan tensed at the words, her gaze scanning the common room until she found Derian. He shrugged the man’s comments off, his black gaze threatening. When it was time for him to leave for class, Derian did so without a backward glance at Cyan. He just got up and left. She felt his absence as soon as he was gone, the bond between their minds that much stronger now that their desire for one another had been consummated. She floated through the afternoon, planning their next meeting. *** She was still on cloud nine when Derian stalked into her office several hours later. Her eyes met his black-eyed arrogant leer as he closed the door. Cyan jabbed a finger in the door’s direction. “You have to leave that open during office hours.” “You have other students in here with the door closed,” he reminded her. There was something in his voice and in the way he held his body that scared the hell out of her. “There aren’t any rumors floating around about my sleeping with other students,” she responded. “Open the door now.” He shook his head. “It’s going to be more than rumors,” he warned. Cyan’s heart slowed and dropped a backbeat. “What are you talking about?” “Stone.” One word, but it filled her with terror. “What does he know?” she hissed the question. Had Derian gone straight from screwing her to bragging about it? Or had he, like Derian, arrived on campus earlier? Suddenly, she felt soiled, like some dirty hooker. “I don’t know, but he says he has proof.” The dark irises were clouded gray with worry and a sharp line furrowed his brow. “Look, if the prison learns what we’ve been 61

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up to…” The idea was too much for him to contemplate. “You’ve got to convince him not to talk,” he blurted out. She raised an eyebrow at Derian. How in the hell was she going to convince Stone not to talk? She shook her head. No, she wasn’t going to try to convince Stone of anything, the man terrified her. “Look, just flirt with him a little. Make him think you can’t stand me anymore, that you’ve had your fill.” When Cyan shook her head again, he grabbed her arm and roughly pulled her to him. “You can control him…read his moods…push him just the right amount.” “I…I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Cyan said. Her whole world tumbling down around her, she started to cry. “Stop that!” Derian ordered. When she didn’t, he put his arms around her. “The bond we have…it just isn’t me…you know what I’m thinking…you seem to know what everyone is thinking,” he said. “I see you use it to help people all the time.” He pulled her away from him and forced her to look at him. “Use it to help me…to help Sharee.” “Sharee?” Cyan asked. “He’s hard-up for some place to stick his dick and Sharee is his primary target now that little Miss Mary has a private security guard,” Derian explained. “I told you he was trying to blackmail her.” When Cyan tried to look away, he pinched her chin, keeping her gaze locked on his. “You going to make her suffer for what we did this morning?” Cyan jerked her head back and pushed Derian away. “You’re just trying to pimp me,” she said, her earlier feeling of being some dirty hooker lodging itself in her chest. She scanned his face, tried to reach into his mind and see if he was, indeed, doing just that. She couldn’t find the answer—he was blocking her. Maybe, she thought, that was answer enough. “It’s only for a little while,” he bitched. “Stone gets thrown out of the program every few semesters.” Cyan’s gaze widened. She had heard something last year about a prisoner from the facility who kept recycling through but no one had said his name and she had never noticed any pattern. Derian caught Cyan’s self-doubt and seized it. “Two weeks and he’ll be back in jail, I’ll make sure of it,” he promised. “Two weeks!” “Two days,” he hastily amended. “I’ll call in a few favors.” “What do you mean?” she asked. “How can you know that?” 62

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Derian covered her protests with a smoldering kiss. “Don’t worry about it. Just keep his mouth shut for the next few days.” Cyan didn’t agree, but she stopped saying she wouldn’t help and Derian seemed satisfied. For the second time that day, he left her without a backward glance. This time, she wasn’t sad to see him go. Numb, she staggered down the hall to the copy room. There were empty paper boxes and she brought one back to her desk. She was going to have to resign from the school, she told herself. It was that simple. The idea was horrid but Stone wouldn’t see her and she wouldn’t see Derian. It might keep the affair quiet and she wouldn’t, she prayed, get kicked out of the graduate program. Her reputation would stay intact and she’d find a job somewhere else, citing marital problems and her new degree as the reason for leaving the college. “You need help with that?” a man asked. Cyan glanced at the speaker, not recognizing him at first. She lifted the lid on the box so that he could see it was empty. “I think I can manage.” The sentence was a thin string of words, trailing after her like gossamer threads. The man followed her to her doorway. “What are you doing with an empty box?” She gestured around the room and then shrugged. “Filling it,” she said simply. The man’s continued presence began to irritate her and she finally looked directly at him, her blood freezing her veins. It was Stone. Had he been outside, waiting for Derian to give him a cue to come in? “When it’s full, I can help you carry it out to the car, Ms. Lassiter,” he said. His gaze raked over her body, lingering at the flare of her hips in the pink pleated skirt. Stone’s tongue darted out to lick his upper lip. Panic swept through Cyan. “It’s Mrs. Lassiter and, if I need help getting something out to my car, there’s a security guard.” “Yeah, I know.” His words were pointed and his gaze narrowed. “There to protect the students from the Lost Bay Boys?” “That’s not it,” Cyan lied, while she fought to keep her head from nodding in agreement. “That’s right, I forgot…there’s at least one of us that you like.” His heated gaze centered on her crotch, as he spoke the name of the man who had brought that area of her anatomy such pleasure that very morning. “Derian.” Cyan’s mouth twisted into an angry smile. “That’s one Boy I can do without,” she hissed. At the vehemence in her voice, she checked herself and tried to decide whether she was telling the God’s honest truth or the world’s biggest fib. 63

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“Really?” His looked at Cyan’s face, searched her expression, a dim hope beginning to blossom in his own. Cyan could feel how needy Stone was—how dangerous, too. She put the box down on her desk and filled it with a few favorite books that she had intended to take home anyway. “Really,” she answered softly. “What’s your first name, Stone?” “Christopher—Chris if you like.” Stone ran his hand over his shirt, his hardened nipples were sharp points centered in the wide expanse of his abnormally large pectoral muscles. His erection was palpable and Cyan could almost imagine it popping the seams on his tight jeans. His mind, in this high state of agitation, was open to her. He had, indeed, tried to blackmail Sharee into a quick hand job in exchange for keeping his mouth shut about Derian and Cyan. His angry passion for her little round-bottomed friend had Cyan balling her fist in anger behind her back. She glanced at the clock. It was 3:30. If she let him help her with the box, she would have the excuse of coming back inside. “Well Chris, if you like, I’ve almost got this box loaded.” Stone nodded and lifted the box from her desk. He followed her around her office while she put a few more items inside. Cyan put her coat on and walked to her vehicle with him. She opened the back door to her car and he carefully placed the box inside. When he straightened, his bulky frame blocked the door, preventing her from closing it. “You got any more boxes you need filled?” he asked. Cyan saw that his hand covered his crotch, cradling the massive bulge, when he asked her. She gave a negative shake of her head and tried not to look anywhere below his shoulders. She turned to leave, not bothering to close the door, but he caught the sleeve of her coat and gave it a soft tug. Surprised by the unexpected gentleness, she turned back to him. “What is it, Chris?” “That Derian,” he started. His jaw muscles bunched at the corners. “He’s an ass.” Cyan slowly nodded her head in agreement. It was, she told herself, the truth. “A real manipulative bastard,” Stone added. “I’ve come to realize that,” Cyan said. Stone’s grip on her coat sleeve tightened. “I see a nice lady like you, I think you deserve better than someone like Derian.” Ah, she thought, warm blood flushing her cheeks despite the late January chill in the air, but does the “better” man have such a wicked tongue and can he seduce me in my sleep?

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Encouraged by the blush on her cheeks, Stone stepped closer. The python in his pants swelled in its desire to escape. “I think I would be better for you than Derian, Ms. Lassiter.” “Cyan,” she offered, unsure as to why she was giving him permission to use her first name. Stone’s chest-swelled and he moved until he was an inch away from her. Slowly, he tilted his hips until his erection pressed against her hip. “You know, they call me Chris Rock?” Cyan raised one delicate brow. Somehow, she didn’t think it was his witty humor that had garnered him the nickname. “Really?” she asked. He nodded, a lurid grin marring his face. “Because my last name is Stone and I’m always hard.” She let her smile mimic his despite her almost overwhelming need to vomit. “Always?” Stone nodded and she felt him have to mentally bite down on the need to ejaculate. That he was a quick shot didn’t surprise her and her smile broadened into a grin of vindictive pleasure. “Well, if it’s always hard, then there’s no need to rush things, is there?” Her boldness thrilled her. If Derian kept to his word, Stone would be history in a few days. In the meantime, she would keep the man on the edge of his seat with the promise of what tomorrow would bring. Then, with Stone back in jail, tomorrow would turn into today—only it would be Derian’s cock filling her. “No rush,” Stone agreed but he didn’t back away and she could feel him begin to rub his erection against her. “Cameras,” she cautioned. He stiffened and his head jerked to the side. “Don’t look,” she bit the words out with real concern. There weren’t any cameras, but he couldn’t know that for sure. “They’ll think you’re up to something.” “I am,” he said, his voice thick with lust. “About eleven inches worth of something.” Cyan felt her body clench in terror. Derian had been large, deliciously so. And thick. But Stone was a freak. She tried to calm herself with a silent mantra of two days…two days… “Not yet,” she said, her voice firm. She pushed him back, praying he would relent or the security guard would begin to wonder at her prolonged absence. She stepped around him and closed her car door. He didn’t move to stop her when she stepped around him again and into the center of the lane. 65

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“When?” his voice was insistent. “Monday morning,” she said. “All of the student assistants have a staff meeting.” If Derian didn’t find a way to have Stone back in jail by Friday evening, she would turn in her resignation before going home for the weekend. The firm date seemed to mollify Stone and he dropped his head, following after her like an obedient schoolboy. But her small victory did nothing to make her feel better. She had, after all, by so much as entertaining Stone’s advances, become a prostitute to keep her secret safe. What if the other school-release inmates found out? Would she become the toy of the six or so males that enjoyed the minimum-security freedom of the school? They were reaching the door, her mind still reeling with the implications of what was happening, when Stone dropped an unintended bombshell on her head. “Better find the biggest one you can.” She turned, her expression uncomprehending. “The biggest what?” “You know?” He gave his cock a quick, discreet squeeze to emphasize his meaning. “The biggest condom you can find.” Condom… Cyan’s chest tightened. She and Derian hadn’t used one. Did she have any brain cells left? She felt herself sway and Stone had to put his hand out to steady her. “You didn’t let that little faggot fuck you without one?” Stone asked, a leer on his face. He nodded his head in smug satisfaction. “You did. Fucking A! That’s a hot little box you got there, Cyan.” Cyan, allowed Stone his little indignant play at her expense. Having unprotected sex with Darien wasn't a big deal. Since she had her hysterectomy two years ago because of that malignant ovarian tumor she never thought of protected sex -- with Jerome it was a moot subject anyway. Now this, what if? She let that thought drop like yesterday's news, she couldn't think about that now. Her circuits were about on over load. She just closed her mind to the whole thought. Steel spilled down Cyan’s back, stiffening her spine. She glared at him, her voice chilling to match the air around them. “You’ll have to wait until Monday to find out for sure,” she hissed and threw the door open. Stone started to follow Cyan inside but the guard caught him, putting his hand to Stone’s beefy chest. The guard glanced down at his clipboard. “Don’t you have class in a few minutes, Inmate #37A49E03Z?” “My name is Stone.” The guard jerked his thumb in the direction of the common room. “Maybe it is to these liberal college students and staff, but I only have two names for you.” The guard 66

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paused and flashed Stone a razor-sharp smile. “Human garbage and Inmate #37A49E03Z.” Stone puffed his chest up but the guard’s smile didn’t waver. His hand dropped to his pistol holster, his thumb caressing the weapon’s grip. “So why don’t you stop stinking these rooms up and haul your ass to class, okay?” “Thank you,” Cyan said to the guard. She watched Stone’s angry figure retreating across the parking lot. When she couldn’t see him any more, she looked up at the darkening sky. Unless Derian came through, the reprieve the guard had granted her would be short lived.

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Chapter Sixteen

Mary stood in Cyan’s doorway at 5:15 that evening. Her eyes were bright, some news buzzing through her. “Did you hear?” Preoccupied, Cyan gave a half grunt of interest, her gaze centered on a report she was pretending to read. “There was a fight in the Machine Tool building…one of the inmates slammed another through a plate glass window.” Mary bounced as she relayed the news. “One of them was Stone.” Cyan picked up her phone and called Alesia Campbell, the campus security chief. “Alesia…Cy here, what am I hearing about some of the school-release inmates getting in a fight?” “Oh, that Neanderthal Stone tossed one of the other inmates through a window because the kid got the machine he wanted to use,” Alesia answered. Her normally brass tacks voice was mellowed. “Two semesters ago, he slapped some girl silly because she wouldn’t sit with him at lunch.” “Who’d he toss?” Cyan asked. The incident sounded like coincidence but it was eerie following Derian’s promise that Stone would be gone in two days. “That puny little Drexel Hunter,” Alesia answered. “This time that behemoth won’t be coming back…not while I’m head of campus security.” Knowing that Derian hadn’t been the object of Stone’s anger, Cyan was ready to hang up, but she didn’t want to be rude. “Why do they keep letting him back on campus?” Alesia’s laugh was dry when she answered. “Who knows? Maybe he’s screwing the warden’s wife, or the warden himself.” “Lots of paper work?” Cyan asked sympathetically. “Tons,” Alesia answered. “We had to send Hunter to the hospital in an ambulance.” “Jesus,” Cyan whistled into the phone. “Well, I’ll let you get to it so you can get home to the kiddies at a decent time. 68

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Cyan looked up to where Mary was still standing in the doorway. “Well, I think it’s safe that you won’t have to worry about Stone again this semester.” Mary smiled and turned before she could see Cyan glancing up at the ceiling and offering her thanks that neither would she. “Hey, Cy. Did you hear?” It was Sharee. She shut the door and plopped down on Cyan’s couch. The room was starting to feel like Grand Central Station. “About Stone and Hunter? Yeah.” Cyan started packing her things up for the evening. “Big relief,” Sharee said, her tone noncommittal, as if she didn’t want to say who would be relieved the most. One long finger, the nail a deep plum color, traced a circle in the air. “I mean, they’re talking about Derian being released early. At the end of the semester, even.” “I thought they were giving him a second semester?” Cyan asked. What would it mean for them, she wondered, if he was released? “If the extension grant goes through for the tribal program, he’d be able to take a second semester there as a condition of his parole,” Sharee answered. “He’ll have to go back to the reservation anyway.” Cyan’s mood brightened. A hundred miles distance might cool their relationship to a manageable temperature. It would give her time to decide if Derian was really part of the life she wanted. *** Derian popped his head into Cyan’s office the next morning, the cocky grin firmly affixed. “Told you I’d take care of it,” he said. She waved him in. “You did that? I don’t believe it.” “Believe it…I paid Hunter $50 to piss Stone off to the point that he was spoiling for a reason, any reason to beat the piss out of that little douche bag.” Derian was rubbing his hands together as if he had just brokered the Geneva Peace Accord. “Where did you get the $50,” Cyan asked, her gaze narrowing suspiciously. The cocky grin slipped. “That reminds me…I need $50.” Cyan’s mouth opened in a shocked O. “You think I’m going to give you $50?” she asked. “You said you’d take care of it.” “I did,” Derian growled. “Look, I can only imagine how much a guy would pay to fuck that sweet little pussy of yours. You only have to pay $50 to keep Stone out of it.” He shrugged, palms up in imitation of scales. “Sounds like a pretty good trade to me.” “I don’t have $50 on me,” Cyan protested. 69

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“Get it, then,” he ordered her. “I’ll be back at lunch to collect.” He started to leave then turned around and leaned back over her desk, his voice seductive. “Hey, don’t the aids have a staff meeting this afternoon?” The hot rasp of his voice rubbed against her, insinuated itself between her thighs. “That’s Monday morning,” she answered testily. “Even better,” Derian said. “The bus comes early on Monday.” “Derian,” she started, but her gaze dropped to the hard bulge in his jeans and she forgot what she wanted to say. “You want it?” he asked and gently cupped himself. “Yes,” Cyan admitted hesitantly. Then she shook her head. “But we can’t risk doing anything in here again.” Derian dropped to his knees, his hand darting under her skirt. Cyan’s jaw snapped shut as his thumb brushed against the fabric covering her clit. Her legs parted and he pressed more urgently. “Do you want me to stop right now?” he asked. “No,” Cyan answered in a breathless moan. She arched against his hand. “But…” “That’s not the word I want to hear,” Derian said and leaned forward to delicately pinch her nipple with his mouth. “You’re going to be begging for it by Monday, baby. I promise. You’re going to come in like last time, a skirt and nothing underneath. You’re going to be wet with wanting me, wanting my dick in you.” Derian withdrew his hand from beneath her skirt and stood. He drew the thumb that had been caressing her mound across her lower lip. He forced it into her mouth, releasing a light moan when she sucked the tip. “Tonight, baby, I’m going to teach you that it does no good to deny me.” He left her office but the press of his hand against her crotch still lingered. Cyan walked down the hall to the women’s rest room. She splashed some water on her face and wiped it dry with paper towels. Her skin was still flushed, her nipples brushing painfully against her shirt. Cyan bent and looked under the stall doors. She was alone. She stepped into the stall and locked the door. Her bladder was full and she lifted her skirt up, pushing the pantyhose and her underwear down in one swipe. She urinated and wiped, her hand lingering between her legs. The tension in her clit was still there, the nerves dancing as she circled her finger around its tip. Cyan dipped her finger down, lubricating it with the juices still flowing from her. She threw her head back and moved her legs apart to allow long, sweeping strokes at the engorged nub. Hunching her back, Cyan slipped two fingers into her pussy, probing the mass of flesh at its entrance, sliding as deep as she could reach while she knuckled her clit in hard strokes. Her arousal climbed and she began rocking back and 70

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forth against her fingers. She slid a third finger inside her and exploded in climax, her ass and thighs tightening to keep her body balanced on the toilet seat. She jerked back, her fingers sliding out of her while she pulled and pinched the reddening button, another wave of orgasm rippling through her. Depleted, Cyan rested her head against the stall before wiping a second time. In the last few weeks, she had masturbated more times than she had in her entire life. Each time it felt a little better, a little more natural. Her mother’s recriminations and dire warnings faded out of existence. She realized she had been denying her body for too long and that she didn’t have to deny herself to deny Derian. Cyan left the stall, adjusting her clothes in front of the mirror and refreshing her makeup. She grinned into the mirror with a new sense of self-control that stiffened her spine, softened her disposition and swayed her hips as she strode from the restroom a complete woman.

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Chapter Seventeen

But denying Derian wasn’t going to be as easy as Cyan thought. He showed up after lunch, his hand out for the promised $50. And then he caught her at home on the edge of sleep, stroking her thighs until she found herself rubbing up against Jerome’s inert form. As the weekend progressed, Cyan didn’t even dare take a nap during the day. And he never allowed her release in the dreams. If she started to touch herself, he would tease her hands away, promising to take her over the edge at last. But he would only bring her to the brink and then back away. By Sunday evening, she was a mess and crawled into bed at 8:00 p.m. after taking two sleeping pills. At four in the morning, she woke on her stomach, a heavy weight across her back. Cold fingers caressed her cheek and trailed their way down her arms. Isn’t it time to wake up? Put on that skirt for me? Cyan tried to roll over but she couldn’t. She felt a firm, insistent rub at the opening of her pussy, the friction quickly resulting in an involuntary moistening. Moaning, Cyan parted her legs and lifted her ass in the air. She imagined the tip of his cock, a distended mushroom cap, circling the entrance, lubricating itself with the juices dripping from her. Cyan pushed her ass higher, her hand sliding under her stomach to her mound, her fingers finding her clit and stroking it. The tip of Derian’s dream cock pushed her fingers out of the way. He slid the length of his shaft over her little rod, her ass cheeks squirming against his solid abs. He dipped the tip into her again, taking a full stroke before pulling out and rubbing the smooth skin of her perineum. Her fingers found her clit again and she ignored his growl to stop touching herself. Derian growled again and her fingers froze as the tip of his cock pressed against the opening to her ass. She could feel the cold air on the ultra-sensitive opening as it whispered against her juices. She felt the muscles begin to expand and a sharp burning sensation as he worked his way in. You’ll love this, her dream lover groaned. It’s like nothing you’ve ever felt before. Cyan tensed but she felt his fingers caressing her back, easing the stress. Relax, he cooed. Take me in. Breathe me in to your body. “I can’t.” Cyan murmured in her sleep. 72

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Derian growled and thrust against her, heat splitting through her. Cyan screamed into her pillow as he pulled out and thrust again. On the sixth stroke, her voice raw, she found her body relaxing, pulled into the rhythm of Derian’s cock thrusting into her ass, his hands pumping her hips. She hovered on the edge of climax, her body trembling, every muscle straining. She clamped her thighs tight and rode him, her arousal straining. Close…so close. And then the alarm went off. *** Derian stepped into Cyan’s office and locked the door. He bounded across the small space in two steps and wrapped his arms around her, his chest pressed against her back. “You were so fucking hot this morning,” Derian breathed into her ear. Cyan didn’t answer. The words were lumped in her throat, her mind in a daze from the pleasure and pain he had delivered to her while she was sleeping. Her body still ached, still wanted him, and no amount of touching herself was going to make it go away. Derian released Cyan and sat down on her couch. He pointed at the center of her desk. “Sit there,” he ordered. She came around the front of her desk and sat. He had his cock out already, his fist wrapped around the heavy shaft. He lifted an impatient eyebrow at her. Cyan hiked her skirt up and slowly stretched out one leg while spreading the other to the side, leaving her pussy wide open for him to see the soft brown hairs covering her mound. His gaze was fixed on her crotch, his hand pumping his shaft, pre-cum dotting the tip. Cyan shifted to expose the round curve of her bottom as she raised the other leg. Both of her feet were now planted on the desk, her legs splayed for his heated perusal. She arched her back, cupping one breast and licking her top lip in a slow swipe. Derian reached for the box of tissues on her desk and relieved himself. He caught two fingers in his cum and stood. He wiped it on her lips and then inserted his fingers into her mouth, as if he were screwing it. Cyan tasted his saltiness, the ache between her thighs becoming something uncontrollable. She slid toward the edge of her desk until the head of his cock was pressed against her opening. Derian grabbed Cyan’s hands from the desk and put them on her knees, forcing her legs further apart, stretching the walls of her pussy at the same time it forced her tighter. He reached through the inverted V of each leg and grasped her ass before shoving his cock into her. He swallowed her mouth in a moist kiss that was a tender contrast to the vigorous thrusts inside her. She moaned into his mouth, shared the taste of his cum. Back and forth he rocked her, the wide splay of her legs tightening her pussy around his cock as she milked another orgasm from him. Cyan let out a frustrated mewl 73

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and Derian released her ass. He continued thrusting his half-rigid cock inside her as his fingers worked her clit. She growled again, angry at his early release. “Shh…” Derian coaxed. He dipped a finger into her as he pumped then slid the lubricated digit down to her ass. Cyan clamped down in fear on Derian’s cock and felt his erection returning. He shushed her again, his finger sliding into the tight hole that he had tormented in her sleep. She felt herself opening for him, sucking his finger into her like a starving kitten. Cyan bucked once as her orgasm sent her crashing against Derian. She buried her face against his neck and bit down against his shoulder to keep from screaming her climax. She felt herself contract around his cock as a second orgasm hit her. She started to cry. “It’s okay,” Derian said and smoothed her skirt back down. He ran his hand over her back, massaging the worry away. “We can’t keep doing this.” “Not here,” he agreed. “They’re letting me go home at the end of the semester…did you know that?” Cyan nodded and wiped the tears from her cheek. “Sharee said they might.” “Well, they’re letting me spend spring vacation there in preparation,” he said. “You know, interview for some jobs, sign up for a few outreach classes.” Cyan nodded again and hitched a sob. A few days ago, she had wanted nothing more than to have Derian a hundred miles away. Now, her body was already aching at his anticipated absence. “You could come up that weekend,” he suggested. “We won’t have to worry about getting caught.” “I can’t do that. I don’t even know how to get there. Besides, what would I tell Jerome?” “I’ll give you directions. Why tell Jerome anything. He probably won’t even know you’re gone except at meal times.” “I still need to tell him something,” “You can come up with a good lie I’m sure. Now, our plans. We’ll have to stay at a motel. My mom’s house can’t have overnight visitors—tribal rules.” “How much will that cost?” She knew Derian didn’t have any money so she would have to pinch enough from her budget. She wasn’t working for the fun of it, she and Jerome needed the extra income to make ends meet with his drinking using up so much of their income. “We’re talking res. Maybe twenty bucks a night max. That and meals shouldn’t cost a hundred bucks.” 74

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“Oh, meals too, and gas for my car.” “Come on. Don’t quibble about a few bucks. We owe it to ourselves to celebrate our love properly.” Cyan’s insides turned to a roaring inferno thinking about a weekend with her black knight in the flesh not some vision, some dream that could evaporate at any moment. She longed to be pinned beneath that bronzed body undulating in time to the rhythm of his animal drum. She longed to see his chest muscles rippled, glazed with the sweat from their love making, feeling his hardness against her wanting her as much as she wanted him. How many times could they make love in a weekend and would it be enough to sustain her until they could get together again? Would she want to once she had him to herself for a solid weekend? She looked at him again. Her fingers itched to run through his thick black hair. She wanted and that was enough to heat her vagina. “So what weekend?” she asked her throat dry from the unsatisfied need she felt growing, dampening her panties. “Not the first weekend I’m home. Ma has plans to have a big shindig for all the relatives. How about this one?” he said pointing to her desk calendar. “Okay,” she said breathless, as if she had run a marathon. “Meet me at the bridge on the county road. D, I think it’s called now. You turn left off the highway coming into the res. I’ll be hard to find otherwise.” He drew her a map of the turn offs and estimated the time for her, and then set up a firm time when they would meet. She would have to take at least a half day off work so they could have Friday night, Saturday, until late Sunday together before she would have to head back. Excitement bubbled inside her like a flock of moths chasing the flame of a lantern with no way to escape their destiny. *** When Cyan told Jerome she was going to a grand re-opening of her long-time friend’s antique store in a distant city, his reaction couldn’t have been more blasé. “Whatever,” he said. “As long as there is food that’s easy for me to make, it don’t matter to me what you want to do.” Jerome was no more interested in antiques than he was in leaving the vicinity of his favorite liquor store. He said he didn’t care where she went. Why she bothered telling him she didn’t know. She made plans to be gone for the weekend and Jerome and his green eyes be damned. The humane society where she volunteered weekends managed to find a replacement for her and wished her a good time on a much-deserved vacation. 75

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Since Derian hadn’t found work yet after his release, Cyan would pay the expenses of their weekend. She brought cash and turned it over to him. He said he would put gas in her car and pay for the weekend motel rooms that he had reserved for them. He pocketed the rest to buy their meals. *** After they were all checked into the motel room, he found a reason to leave. He said his mother needed him to do an errand for her and he’d be back in a half hour. She looked around the dingy motel room fearing that the sheets may not even be clean. It was one of those places that looked like it was rented by the hour. For the amount of traffic coming and going while she waited for Derian’s return, she was sure she guessed right. She unmade the bed. The sheets were clean, bleached spotless white. The acrid smell of bleach stung her nostrils. She took her fruity vanilla body mist and sprayed the sheets remaking the bed as she did. She sprayed a couple facial tissues and tucked them in side the pillowcases. Then she laid out candles and incense, got into the Victoria secret hot red lace negligee she had saved for a special occasion. She hung up the dresses Derian had instructed her to bring, turning on the television to sit and wait for him. She was becoming angry. Sleep claimed her as she waited for his return. When he eventually returned, she was furious with him. She could smell liquor on his breath though he had tried to disguise it with tic-tacs. Instead of apologizing and explaining where he had been as she thought he would, he went ballistic. He accused her of being like all the other women he’d ever known. “Manipulating bitches, you all are. You want your cunts serviced but you don’t want to let a man do what he needs to do,” he spat the words out in disgust. He threw her car keys on the bed in front of her. “Go. Take your fat old ass and hit the road. If that’s the way you want it you can just leave. I am staying. I paid for the weekend and I am going to use the room. I can find another willing pussy. It isn’t hard here. The girls are cheap and easy.” He said with that dark sulking broodiness that ripped her heart wide open. Cyan put her clothes back on feeling ashamed that the red number hadn’t at least caused an arousal in him. But she knew alcohol; it dulled green eyes’ desires and had done the same to Derian. She tossed the negligee and her dresses in the suitcase and closed the lid. Cyan had feelings roaring around inside her fighting for control. She should leave, but what would she tell her husband who thought she had gone to her friend’s for the whole weekend. She couldn’t bear to have Derian angry with her. She craved the sex he had made her want. A passion she could never explain or deny hung over her, chaining her to Derian. Cyan realized she needed him. She wanted him as 76

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much as he usually wanted her. So she sat, put on her tennis shoes, unshed tears threatening to spill over her eyelids at the slightest provocation. Her body trembling with an ache she knew Derian could satisfy. Standing up and picking up the car keys she didn’t know what to do, she walked to the door. “I’m sorry,” she said turning to face him not knowing what she should do. Quickly his anger turned to lust. “You are not leaving here without one hell of a last screw,” he said. Derian grabbed her and kissed her hard. His mustache burned against her face. His full lips forced hers away from her teeth and he pried his tongue into her mouth, tangling his tongue around hers. He sucked her tongue into his mouth and chewed on it. She dissolved in his arms. Derian slid one strong arm under her buttocks and picked her up. He held her off the floor and reached his other hand up to cup her breast. Slowly he carried her to the bed. Gently he laid her down and unbuttoned her blouse kissing her neck and fondling her breasts as he did. As he kissed his way to her breasts he let his tongue slide between them. Derian moved back up her body and screwed her ear with his tongue. She arched her back so he could remove her blouse and unhook her bra. His tongue explored her ear; his hot breath was like a match that kindled her juices to flow, like hot wax they oozed from her vagina. He pulled her blouse and bra off in a hasty flourish. He rolled her over on her tummy and let his tongue walk the length of her spine to the waistband of her panties and back up. Derian’s hand slid between her legs and he massaged her. He nipped at her back and shoulders sending chills of longing pulsating from deep within her loins. Cyan’s breathing came in clipped hot rasps and she moaned into the mattress. Twisting, Cyan bucked from beneath him and rolled back over to face him. Tangling her fingers in his thick black hair she pulled his head to her breasts and he nibbled once again on the rigid little stubs. She could hardly stand the desire he created within her. She tore at his shirt pulling the snaps open in one frenzied rip. Her hands explored his ruddy hairless chest. The feeling through the palms of her hands awakened an animal lust in her. He pulled his knee into her crotch, pressing against her vulva moving in tiny circular motions designed to make her erupt in passion. She arched her back and pushed into his knee. Her tongue found his. Then she sucked his tongue into her mouth like she wanted to pull his cock into the deepest reaches of her body. Her fingers clawed at his muscular roguish chest and down his sinewy back. He raised up enough that she could undo his belt and unzip his pants. Derian rolled back on his back and slid his clothes off with one swift fluid motion. Then he slowly deliberately inched her panties down while his tongue created a roadmap of shivers down her torso following the path of her panties. She reared onto her shoulders so he could finish taking the 77

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panties past her butt and down her legs. She raised one leg at a time and he kissed his way from each foot and back up her right inner thigh to the crossroads that met at her vagina. He forced his tongue between her vulvas and licked her clitoris. He slid a finger into her mound to titillate her clit as he kissed his way back up to her belly button. His tongue played with her navel, fucking it. “I want you in me now,” she groaned. “What do you want in you baby?” he teased. “I want your cock in me now,” she begged. Slowly he traced back up her body with his tongue and bit teasingly at her nipples. She squealed in intense delight. That was encouragement enough. He straddled her and drove his hardness into her soft moist vagina with such force it pushed a grunt from her clenched teeth. He swallowed her mouth with his. His tongue probed deep into her mouth. Cyan thought tongue and rod would meet if he pushed into her any harder. With every stroke of his piston like motion she felt a surge of her own juices creating a warm lubricating lotion for his shaft to ride. Derian’s ride became a bucking frenzy. Her head knocked against the headboard of the bed with each new thrust. Derian lifted her body and dragged her sideways on the bed while he continued to pound into her. He squeezed, prodded and kneaded her ass cheeks. Her head dangled off the edge of the bed blood rushing to it. She felt dizzy. Soon all she felt was his hot juices explode into her as she rose on a delirious pitch to the orgasm better than the dreams of him had always created for her. He pulled out of her spent, and went to the bathroom, as if he had finished reading a newspaper. No emotion, no cool down. Abrupt, blood-curdling passion turned to ice. Without a word he got dressed, combed his hair and then he opened the door. He turned, “I’ll get us lunch,” he said shutting the door abruptly behind him. Cyan laid there letting his cum seep out from between her legs, feeling used. Her vagina felt violated and bruised from his heavy hammering into her. Slowly, she got to her feet and went in to take a shower. She let the water stream hot against the back of her neck. Then turned and let the sharp prickles of the spray beat against her sensitive nipples. She slid to the shower floor; spread her legs and let the hot stream of water pulse into the tender area between them. She pulled back the lobes so the pulsating torrent manipulated her clitoris. It was so tender from Derian’s rough taking of her, the water instantly spurned new surges of arousal. She lingered in the water flow and pulled her knees up farther spreading her legs as wide as she could. She drank in the water letting it spill out of her mouth and down her breasts. Finally she leaned back and let the hot sharp pulses of the water stream wash her to an orgasm. As she climaxed she took a large 78

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swallow of water, laid back and let the water envelop her. It washed her in rolling waves from peak to calm. Exhausted she stood up and turned off the shower. Cyan wondered if she was becoming a nymphomaniac now that her sexual desires had been aroused and were allowed free reign, she couldn’t get enough. She scrubbed at her aching body with the coarse motel towel sending tingling sensations wherever she touched. *** Where Derian went to get the food Cyan had no idea, but he was gone a long, long time. She knew his mother lived nearby and he could have gone there, she reasoned. He came back as though her thoughts had pulled him to her. The lukewarm hamburgers and cold fries did nothing to appease Cyan. She was so upset she could barely eat. Derian ignored her and lay on the bed watching TV while he ate. She refused to lay or sit on the bed next to him, instead choosing to lie on the floor and read a magazine. Soon Derian slithered off the bed and crawled on top of her. He kissed her neck and she could feel his hot breath choked with passion in her ears. “I want you,” he whispered. Cyan didn’t speak. She didn’t resist when he began undressing her. Naked he took her hands and pulled her up off the floor. He worked his eyes up and down her body and she saw his penis begin to rise in a salute to her nakedness. He led her into the bathroom, picked her up and put her into the bathtub/shower enclosure. Derian turned the water on adjusting the temperature so it was a hot pulsing stream. The spray hit her back like prickly needles, and her flesh bristled. He pushed her into the steamy pulse of the water. Derian took her hand and poured liquid soap into it. He guided her hand up his chest and down to his crotch. He turned his back to her and she lathered every inch of his ruddy Indian redness. She caressed his tight ass. She reached between his legs and massaged his balls. He dipped forward groaning and she could feel his pleasure filling his rod. Then she kneeled to wash the backs of his thighs. He turned as she slid her hands against him and his hard cock found her mouth. She continued to massage soap down the front of his thighs and up his torso as far as she could reach and still keep his hard cock in her mouth. His stiff joint slowly slid in and out of her mouth in a rhythm of slow steady strokes. Sliding across her tongue she could feel the shape of the shaft, the mushroom cap, she slid her tongue into the little slit at the tip of it. He gurgled and pushed into her. When he was primed, he put his hands on her head and held her to him as he pumped in and out. His penis touched the back of her throat and she swallowed hard He withdrew a little to let her catch her breath. She sucked his shaft, tasting his salty pre-cum wetness seeped between her legs. A soft moan of semi satisfaction squeezed out around the 79

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mouthful of his cock, she sank back slightly on her knees. Derian pulled away removing his dick from her mouth and lifted her up to him. He kissed her full and hard. Tasting his own cum seemed to fuel another stiff desire in his rod and it jutted against her stomach. After he poured liquid soap into his hands and he worked his way from her shoulders down over her supple breasts and hard nipples, swirling around on her tummy and down her thighs missing her cunt. She pressed into his hands trying to guide him to her mound. He continued on his trek down her legs ignoring her pleading body. Gently he turned her around and began running his warm soapy hands along the length of her spine. He cupped her ass cheeks and kneaded them like bread dough. He traced a finger down the crack and into her vagina. She squirmed and moaned when he slid his hand between her legs but didn’t stay long enough for her satisfaction. Derian pulled her hands away from his thighs and put them against the shower wall. He pulled her legs out away from the wall and pulled up on her stomach while pressing down on her shoulders forcing her into a crouching position. Finally, he had her spread and crouched doggy style. He teased her ass with his hard penis. Her mind flew back to that time in the office. Where was the Vaseline he thought he needed then? She grew frightened. “Relax,” his hot anxious breath in her ear. Gently he circled and inserted into her vagina lubricating his shaft with her juices. Slowly, so slowly his cock seemed miles long, he pushed against the back of her head with one hand and guided his penis with the other. He traced up the crack of her ass from her cunt. Releasing her head, he circled her back and caressed a breast as his dick pushed against her tight hole. He slipped his fingers down her tummy and into her mound massaging her clit. She rocked into his hand. Wild from the sensations he created in her, she gyrated against him, while his fingers manipulated her clit. Little spurts of pre-cum hot on her ass lubricated her tiny hole as he encouraged it to enlarge and accept him. She felt the pressure of his dick push against the small hole. It contracted, refusing to allow penetration. Derian pulled her to him using the hand on her clit, the added pressure there inflamed her cunt. She wanted him so bad she could taste it. “Relax, breathe me into your hole baby,” he said. “It will work if you think of my cock as breathing in with our breaths. Make them long breaths, pull me in baby.” He encouraged her with his deep sexy urgings. Cyan tried to listen and follow his instructions. She sucked air in trying to make her anus breathe in his hugeness poking, prodding, pressing into the tight hole. She had never done this before. “I can’t,” she said. “I’m scared.” 80

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He rubbed the tight little nub of her clitoris until her movements told him she was becoming excited, then he plunged his hard cock deep into her ass. A squeal of pain escaped her lips as he did. Her knees weakened and then the pain quickly subsided and turned to wave after wave of frenzied orgasm ripping through her. Cyan’s vagina contracted in little spasms and she could separate the fullness of him deep in her ass from the emptiness in her cunt. The muscles of her womb contracted so tight she thought they might lock into a cramp She gyrated her hips in time to the waves of ecstasy sweeping her into another world, calling Derian’s name, begging him to take her. He pounded out his lust grabbing her hips to hold her tight to him as he bucked. A guttural cry announced his ecstasy and preceded a series of exploding hot bursts she could feel deep inside her. Convulsing shudders wracked his body and hers as they locked together in primal release. Derian withdrew his cock and pulled her up and into him and they kissed while the warm shower enveloped them womb-like. Their spent bodies clung together, enjoying the slow return to normal. *** As passionate and hot as their lovemaking was, Cyan was always on edge as the weekend was a series of hot arguments that always ended in mattress calisthenics. Derian always apologized for his outbursts. “The damn reservation, it does that to me. I get so disgusted with being here. I can’t help myself,” he said. Cyan felt sorry for him. He did seem different here than he did off the reservation. Something about the place turned him bitter and angry. She accepted his apology and his lovemaking eagerly. “Go in and put on that green skirt, the one with the buttons all the way up the front–and panty hose and heels,” he said after one argument. Cyan looked at him. “Why?” “We’re going out to eat,” he said. Cyan did as he asked. When she came out of the bathroom all dressed, her makeup fixed and her hair combed, he grabbed her and kissed her feverishly. Gently he laid her across the bed and spread her legs. He reached under her skirt and massaged her mound through the pantyhose. He kissed her neck and rolled over on top of her pressing his hardness into her pelvic bone. It felt like he had something in his pocket that was uncomfortable, bruising her pelvis. She squirmed trying to adjust his hardness. He kissed her again rolling and pulling her on her side facing him. With his hand down between her legs, he stuck a finger through the mesh of the crotch on her pantyhose and ripped them. “Wait, I’ll take them off,” she whispered. 81

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“No, I want it this way,” he said unbuttoning the front of her skirt enough so it was out of the way. “Lift your hips up,” he said. Cyan lifted her torso off the bed bracing with her shoulders and her feet, arching her back into a crab walk position. Derian pulled her skirt up from underneath her and tore the panty hose further. He pulled his cock from his pants and inserted it into her vagina pressing her back down onto the bed. They had intercourse fully dressed. He kissed Cyan when he was done, “That’s what I call my rape fantasy,” he said smiling down on her. Derian rolled over zipped his pants and told Cyan, “Get in the car. We’re going out to lunch.” “Wait until I clean up and change my pantyhose,” she said. He pulled her to him and nuzzled her ear. “No, baby, I want you to keep my seed in you. He reached down and rubbed her mound, “I want you to think about what we did and what is waiting for you when we get back here.” He fucked her ear with his tongue while he encouraged unfaltering obedience. “I want you just like you are sitting across from me in the restaurant. You will know I can penetrate you without removing anything right there while we eat lunch.” Cyan felt a rush of embarrassment as her face grew hot. She would go to lunch soiled and disheveled, and she felt small and dirty. Then she had an abrupt turn around. If this is the way Derian wanted her--down and dirty, if this is the way he liked his sex, raw and unforgiving, why shouldn’t she appease him. Who would it hurt? If anyone had suspicions about her attire or her recent seduction – let them imagine. She chuckled to herself. This was fun and just a tad bit nasty and out of character, like thumbing her nose at her mother just once. “Why not,” she said. She and Derian were the only ones who would really know the truth. “That’s my girl,” Derian said patting her on the ass. *** After lunch he took a different road than the one back to the motel. He turned down an old logging road and drove deep into the woods before he pulled the car to a stop. “Come on,” he said opening the door for her. Hesitatingly, she got out. She didn’t understand what they were doing in the remote wilderness on this logging road. “I can’t walk out here in high heels,” she said taking Derian’s arm as he offered it to her. He kissed her and as he did he slid his hand down the front of her and started to unbutton her skirt. He let it fall to the ground. He slid her slip down and let it fall to the ground around her ankles. Nervously she looked around. The woods were deep, dark and desolate. There would be no prying eyes here. She lifted a foot and kicked the slip 82

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aside with the other; she had never made love out in the open before. She couldn’t protest his mouth was on hers chewing her lips thrusting his tongue deep into her mouth engaging her tongue in a writhing, snaking duel arousing her passion. Derian lowered her gently to the forest floor. Pine needles prickled at her buttocks arousing her even more. He slid his hands under her ass and massaged her cheeks. Then he released her and took out his pocketknife and cut away the pantyhose. He threw them into the woods. He smiled and went down on her vulva. He nipped teasingly at her clitoris. He slithered back up her stomach. Back on top of her his mouth burned over her hardened nipples. “Are you ready?” he growled into her ear. He knew she was. How could he not know she was his tongue was only moments before stirring in the juices of her cunt. She could taste the musty sex of her own cum when he kissed her. “Yes,” she moaned. “Yes what?” “Yes, I am ready to have you inside me.” “What part of me baby?” he teased. “All of you. Your big hard cock, now please.” She begged. “Good baby, good,” he said, chuckling that evil laugh that pushed her over the edge. Derian did please her. He pushed all the right buttons. They had wild animal raw sex, “Open your eyes,” he said “Look up at the canopy of those huge beautiful pines and that ice blue sky beyond them.” He punctuated his sentences by pumping into her. Cyan looked up. The profile of his head came and went in front of her gaze with his movements in and out of her. “It is beautiful,” she managed to say. He kissed her fervently and pressed into her as he erupted. She felt herself relax and release at the same time. “I love you,” she whispered into his ear. “I love you. I love every inch of your sexy body and your steamy hot cunt.” They laid there in the pine needles and fern leaves staring up at the sky, not caring that neither of them was dressed. A gentle breeze cooled them down. They talked until they dozed off right there in the wild with nothing but Mother Nature to cover them, and no one but the birds and the beasts to care.

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Chapter Eighteen

When they weren’t arguing, the sex was like none she’d ever had, or dreamt of having. How could one man be so full of passion and cruelty at the same time? She wondered. He said the reservation made him crazy—maybe that was true. Derian taught her to talk during sex. It took a long time before she could speak to him during their lovemaking. He encouraged, tutored and withheld until she would voice what she wanted. She still had a hard time talking dirty to him during foreplay. He would threaten to walk out until she would. He would tease her until she nearly came and then he’d do something akin to a cold shower if she wouldn’t voice her wishes. “You need to beg my cock to violate your cunt,” he said once. If she whispered, “I want you,” he would tease. “You have me, or is there some a part of me you want some place specific? What and where? Name the parts of my maleness that you need.” Cyan remembered the time they were both fresh out of the shower naked as children sitting on the bed talking. He sat her up facing him. “Name every word you ever heard for intercourse,” he said. She could only think of make love, and intercourse. Derian had a whole storehouse of other names from copulation to mating. “Piece of ass, screwing, balling, nookie, diddling, copulation, would you like me to tell you more?” He growled into her ear while he slid his dick along side her hip. His list aroused her, as he obviously knew it would. “Name the sex organs of the male and female. Not in ordinary words–think of all the words you’ve read or heard. Tell me them.” “Pussy, cunt, twatt, womanhood.” She began with the female because it was easier. She had heard them, usually used in a derogatory fashion. When they rolled off Derian’s tongue he sounded as though he made love to each word. A woman’s body became art in his mouth. “Rough raw sex, in blue jeans or in the back seat of a car is cunt and twatt. Slow hands, adoring hands are vagina, womb; playfulness is pussy,” he said stroking her making her feel his words. “Your turn. Give me male rough,” 84

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“Cock, dick,” she said. “Slow hands.” “Penis.” “Playful.” “Rod, shaft,” she said getting the hang of the game and beginning to reciprocate in kind. He pressed her down on the bed and traced her breasts with his cock. He guided his muscle up the front of her between her breasts up her neck and then traced her lips with the tip of his dick while she named it. She flicked her tongue out to wet it he interrupted her litany of sex parts at he dipped his hardening penis into the well of her mouth. “Keep going,” he said as he withdrew. “Open your eyes and look at me.” “Dick, cock, cunt, pussy,” her list was very short then. Derian told her to listen when they made love, had sex or drove each other crazy and he would tell her more of them for next time he asked the question. She said she would and he laughed. “You are so naive for as old as you are,” he said. He traced her eyelids with his shaft. Slowly he kissed her, manipulated her clit with his free hand. He traced back down her side with his hard rod and slid it between her lobes using it to further massage her into heat. He slid his penis into her and rested there not daring to move, trying to stave off their climax. “Describe what you’re feeling, what is happening inside when I do this,” he said using his hand to make his penis circle inside her. “It makes my insides pulse,” she said. “What does pulse mean?” he breathed into her ear. “Like a spasm, like my womb is a caterpillar walking up your rod,” as she talked, it got easier. “Look in my eyes,” he said drawing his penis out of her nearly all the way. “No, don’t,” she was reaching, begging to have him back inside her. “It feels like the canal folds open and closed. The walls of my vagina feel like a canal of folds, you slide in and they follow. You slide out and they lay back. I don’t know how else to say it,” she said trying to tighten her thighs so she could push him back in where she needed him to be deep inside her. “You will,” he teased as he eased back into her and gave one final thrust to the back of her cunt, spurting his hot release. What exactly he was doing? He would slowly slide his penis in and out, trying to extract different words from her about what she was feeling. Sometimes he would start a description and expect her to elaborate as he rode his rod in and out of her pussy. “I am 85

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pushing the skin on my shaft back to bare the tip of my cock so your moist vagina can squeeze me and my tip can feel every sensation. Now what do you feel?” If he didn’t get enough description he’d pull out and plunge his cock into her mouth. “Feel baby, what does it taste like wet with your juices? What does it feel like slide your tongue around that red-hot sausage feel every inch of it? Remember it.” “Swallow my shaft, suck it, feel its hot meat. Remember what it feels like in your mouth so you can tell me what it feels like in your cunt.” Then he would withdraw and be back between her legs with his tongue circling her clitoris. “Feel me here. What is the difference between my tongue and my dick?” he would say as his tongue invaded her vagina. “Oh your, your tongue is so soft, so gentle, it touches places your cock can’t,” she groaned as wave after wave engulfed her. Cyan remembered her favorite game of all. It was when he taught her the alphabet, just thinking about it made her damp between her legs. “I’m going to do the alphabet on you. Feel every letter. Tell me which one it is. They are going to be all upper case letters, feel them and then tell me.” Cyan moaned as his tongue traced a capital ‘A’ around her clit. When he slid his tongue to make the cross bar she nearly choked with desire. “Speak to me slut, what letter?” he coaxed. “An A like ass,” she groaned. They rarely got past ‘J’ no matter how hard he tried to slow her down, make her hold off. Before he could get half through with the ‘K’ she would be writhing and begging him to take her. Coming up with some part of the body or a function for every letter kept her from climaxing too early and she was beginning to extend the time. When she came though, it would be so violent and explosive they played the game often. The exercise helped her be able to talk while having intercourse, but she never really became comfortable with the idea. Sex with Jerome was always eyes closed, mouth shut, missionary position, duty during sex. Please him and then get on with your life. Derian’s steamy lovemaking, demanding eyes wide open, middle of the day or anytime sex was such a contrast. There was no comparison she decided. They had sex in a million different ways and in as many places as there were to have sex. The motel room offered a small kitchenette that looked as though it was rarely used to cook anything. They even had sex in that small space seated at the kitchen table eating a meal. Derian said, “Take off all your clothes.” 86

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She looked at him questioningly; they were ready to eat dinner, “Why?” she asked. “Do as your told woman.” When she returned to the kitchen stark naked, he smiled and licked his upper lip a long slow lick that reminded her of what that tongue felt like between her legs and she felt her center warming at the thought. “Here,” Derian said holding up a small pleated apron with a ruffle around the edge. The tiny pocket on the front had something in it she could see. She walked slowly to him and he wrapped the apron around her, kissing her neck and between her breasts as he tied it. He reached in the pocket and pulled out the condom still wrapped neatly in its little package—“I will want you to put this on me when I tell you to,” he said his black gaze penetrating to her soul. She agreed and he motioned to the chair. She sat down. “Spread your legs,” he demanded. She obeyed. He pulled his chair as close to hers as possible, then he lifted her legs and put one on each side of him pulling her closer at the same time. Derian placed his hard cock at the entrance to her vagina, and raised her hips slightly so that the mushroom cap was just inside her. He fed her a bite of tuna salad. As he placed the forkful of food in her mouth, he pushed his dick forward, into her. She returned with a forkful of food for him, and she would push toward him, until she wound up sitting on his lap, his dick firmly in place between her legs. Derian lowered his head and sucked one of her breasts into his mouth teasing the nipple with his tongue while he made his shaft tap the sides of her vagina, between bites of food. The meal got interrupted as their desire for each other escalated. He dragged Cyan up higher onto his lap as he pumped into her with an undulating, unrelenting rod, probing her inner most depths until she squealed as a rush of orgasm claimed her. He bit at her nipples to increase her peak as he fired hot bursts of semen into her. They held each other as they came back down from the climax. Derian wanted her to stay on him until they finished eating. She could feel his cock begin to shrink and slowly lose its place in her vagina. When they finished eating they went to the bathroom to clean each other up. His hands massaged and manipulated her as the warm water enshrouded them heat rising and filling them both with need and passion again. The cascade of the water pulsated with their thrusts until once again the held each other exhausted and spent. Later they slept. She awoke to the slow pressure of his rock hard dick slipping into her vagina from behind her. He kissed her neck and ran his tongue down her back. Slowly he teased inserting the tip of his cock, withdrawing and inserting a little deeper each time until she thought she would die craving him. He rose up and tugged one of her 87

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legs over him so they faced each other without letting his cock slip from between her legs. She threw her legs around his waist and locked her ankles forcing him to penetrate her all the way to his hilt. He slammed into her and rolled so she was on top of him. He pushed her, using her breasts as handles to push her up and away, until she was sitting on his rod. He raised her hips and lifted her from his shaft and then slowly let her slide back down on it until her vagina swallowed it all again. He teased the red nipples of her breasts with his thumbs, as he held her above him in a sitting position. “Open your eyes and look at me,” his throaty voice urged. “I want you to always think of me no matter who is making you come,” he said. He released her breasts and let her slowly drift back down to lay on top of him. “Kiss me,” he groaned. When she settled back down on his fiery shaft the spurt of his cum burned inside her tender vagina and she felt herself transported to a world she never knew existed during sex. Their mouths sought hungry releases for the pleasure that rocked their bodies. “I want you so sore from all our lovemaking this weekend that you won’t be able to walk. I want you to think of me with every step you try to make or when you try to pee or sit. I want your cunt so tender, every move you make will remind you of our lovemaking sessions and make you ache to have me between your legs again.” He had promised her that after a weekend with him, she would never want another man. She thought his ego was bigger than his dick, but that was before he made love to her. She had never been made love to like this before. She never had sex that was so gratifying before. She wondered if anyone could ever satisfy her the way Derian did.

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Chapter Nineteen

Shortly after their weekend together, Derian wrote to her and told her he had married an older woman. Cyan was devastated. They had talked about her getting out of her marriage so they could be together. She wanted to wait until she got her degree. The years she’d already invested in that goal shouldn’t be lost. They were adults, they could wait, she thought. She was in shock. How could he betray her like that? She wanted to know all about this other woman. Probably a young sexy babe, she tortured herself with thoughts of what he must be doing with a new naïve piece of meat. Training her as his sex slave, showing her all the things he had shown Cyan. She tried to reach him with her thoughts, but to no avail. It was as though he had built a kryptonite wall between them that no dreams, no amount of clairvoyance, could penetrate. Cyan thought Derian was only interested in her. She was crushed and at the same time relieved. If he was satisfied with another woman she could resume life as she knew it, without having to make up excuses, lies and other deceitful things that went totally against her nature. Yet, she was angry with him. His raw, beautiful and passionate lovemaking was not so easy to let go of. She called him. “Why Derian? Why would you marry another woman?” “I couldn’t stand to see what I was putting you through. Sneaking around on your husband, not letting your friends know what you were doing. It was making you into the kind of person you hate. I just couldn’t do that to you anymore, no matter how bad I wanted you.” “That is so sweet Derian, but don’t you think I should be the one to make that decision? Getting married seems like a hell of a way to make a statement.” “Actually there was more than one reason,” he said. Here it comes, she thought. He really doesn’t give a damn about me he was just using me. “I have no job. I have no training that I can get a job with here. I needed a way to stay alive, someone to pay my bills. Suzette was lonely and well off. I agreed to be her companion in exchange for a place to live and food in my belly. Nothing more, just until 89

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you are free. I promise.” He said. “She’s a lonely old lady for god sake. You can’t think she could replace you.” She wasn’t sure whether she believed him or not. He still wrote, though not as often, and she couldn’t break through that wall between them. There were no nightly visits as there had been before. Then a few weeks later she learned he was tossed aback in prison because of a parole violation–drinking he said. From prison Derian’s letters once again turned hot, sensuous and sexy they gave her the same overpowering feeling between her legs that his hands and his cock did. He divorced his wife, now that he no longer could provide her with the companionship she paid him for. Again Cyan became nervous. She had an aching insatiable need no amount of masturbating could satisfy. His nightly visits had begun again, but they were nothing to her. They were empty compared to their real lovemaking. Derian married another woman whom he met through the prison school release program in a city two hundred miles from Cyan. Even though he was two hundred miles away and lonely, she couldn’t justify this second marriage. She was crushed and ready to do anything to feel his hard maleness once again thrust between her hot thighs. She ached to feel the alphabet tantalizing of her clitoris, the hot sizzling sex they had, the raw almost animal mating she couldn’t get enough of. He had drugged her, hypnotized her, and stole her will. She could not put him out of her mind or her life. She called him at the prison. “I can’t live without a woman. You can’t expect me to. You have your man and seem content with it,” his voice had that mean, angry edge Cyan had heard before. He said he needed to have a woman, then the edge was gone again. “The only way to get a woman in prison is to marry one for conjugal visits,” he said. “I’ll dump her as soon as you’re free to marry me, I promise.” Angry again she was determined to break his hold over her. She had no sex, why should he? What made his need any greater than hers? Okay she had a husband, but that was no guarantee of sex he should be well aware of that. She wrote to him in her rage. “Derian, you know I have no sex with Jerome. You know how much your nightly visits meant to me. How can you say you need a woman, why not just visit me like you used to in our dreams? We had such passion. If you will knock down that wall and let our minds connect again. Why can’t we be together that way until we can be together again?” She wrote and she cried knowing the wall was there yet, why was he torturing her like this. It never crossed Cyan’s mind that Derian’s excuses didn’t hold water. That they were a lie. She didn’t think about all the sex she and Derian had when he was locked up before. The things they did in a very public place where anyone could have walked in on them. It made her shudder to think she could be so brazen. It did not translate into how 90

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come he couldn’t get sex the same way in his new school. Not being able to have sex while he was incarcerated was never a problem for him before and she was sure it wasn’t now. So, what was it he wanted from this woman, was he using her to get to Cyan? This was another thought that haunted her nightmares, those times when Derian was gone, but not forgotten. Cyan wasn’t on Derian’s visiting list, so she couldn’t send him money or gifts or even go visit him. He had to include her on his list, she couldn’t request it and for some reason, he was keeping her off it. That infuriated her too. His letters were still full of lust and longing. He never answered her anger. It was as though he never received those letters. She got a letter from Derian asking her to make his car payment for him. “Would you send my mom a check for $25 every week, so she can make my car payments? I don’t want to lose it and I can’t get any money in here,” he pleaded. Why not have your wife do it, she wanted to answer back, but she desperately wanted him to need her. If it was only as purse strings, for now, it was a tether—a flash of hope in her bleak world. So she did. She never could say no to a friend in need. Whatever happened between them, she still considered Derian a friend, he needed her and that was all that mattered to Cyan. Sex starved, lonely Cyan came to understand how cult followers get trapped. Derian was controlling her mind, by what he could give her or with hold from her. She was furious with herself for letting him manipulate her, but she was powerless to stop needing him. Find out what they need and give it to them and when you start asking for what you need they will give until it hurts and then give some more. The old psychology courses that taught the way to sell was to get them to say yes to some small thing and gradually increase what you ask for. Once they say yes they are easy to get to say yes to more and more. Cyan recognized the method even as she let it pull her in. Prison life grows con artists. Weak individuals fall for them and the cycle perpetuates itself Cyan chastised herself even as she tried to root out the evil imbedded in her brain. Her twentytwenty hindsight was extremely acute later. Her need, her lust, her out right desperate, uncontrollable desire to have his meat in her snatch fucking her brains out was crazy. She could get wet thinking of the alphabet, the names of his body parts or her own sexual labels. Sometimes she was sure she would go insane for the way she wanted—no needed sex with him. At night occasionally his dark form would float within inches of her, but when she reached out to 91

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him he would disappear in a puff of smoke. She would wake in a cold sweat knowing he had been caressing her body, pulling her awake, only to cut her off without relief. Soon she got a letter; he had put her on his visiting list so she could come to see him. “Come next weekend. Could you bring me some Camel’s, a carton of them? Maybe some cans of Chili too. I could sit and eat chili from a can cold, I love it that way. Prison food is horrid.” His letter went on and on about what she should bring, how she should dress. Cyan felt a twinge in her box between her legs while she read the letter. She would get to see him again. Of course sex would be out, but seeing him again, his ebony black eyes, tight buns, that bulge he got in his tight jeans when he looked at her. She started making plans immediately. She wondered how she could be in the same room with him without raping him. The sex in his letters made her climax while reading them. How would she sit across from him and stare into those raven black eyes, have him touch her hand and not crawl all over him. When he had been sent back to prison she began to think that perhaps at long last she would be able to put him out of her life. She thought she had freed herself from his grasp, his power over her. As she busied herself in domestic chores, her gardens and her crafts she pictured herself as removed from the affair she had with him, especially after he married the second wife. She realized at the quickening of her heart and the dampness of her groin, that he would never be totally out of her life. She still wanted him. In her cunt she knew he could take her by letter or by thought to the wildest ecstasy she could dream about or imagine. She was his willing sex slave. He couldn’t control her because he couldn’t get to her, she told herself. If he couldn’t touch her, if she didn’t need to look into his eyes, she could forget him. The miles that separated them were not her safety net. She could put his letters down and not read them, at least she tried to, but with the dull sameness of her married life his love letters were her lifeline to sanity. Insane sanity she called it. Cyan cried often and hard at her predicament afraid to try to remedy it, afraid she couldn’t’ make it on her own. She was afraid of Derian and what he might do if she ran away or ignored him. He threatened to kill himself if she deserted him once and she believed him. He also threatened retaliation in subtle ways, hinting about the Indian grapevine and the brotherhood enough that she thought she had no choice but to keep the status quo. He manipulated her still, or was it her own thoughts that manipulated her and she needed him to blame for her promiscuity. She took a weekend trip down to see him at the prison. *** 92

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The prison parking lot was stark and empty. Bold red block lettered signs warned ‘no visitors vehicles beyond this point’. The looming gray clouds threatened to spill their contents and a damp chill wind whipped the American flag clanging the chain that raised it against the pole in tempo to Cyan’s jangled nerves, her heart pounded as she parked her car in the spot labeled ‘visitor parking’. The massive structure was cold gray concrete surrounded by fences topped with razor wire coils. The four corners of the compound had tall guard turrets, shorter towers interspersed the distance between the corner stations. She could see the guards walking the catwalks, rifles in hand. She had never been inside a jail before let alone a maximum-security prison. She was terrified, but after a two hundred fifty mile trip, there was no turning back now. She followed the signs to the visitor’s entrance. “Who are you here to see?” the guard asked undressing her with his lurid gaze. She could nearly hear him smacking his jowls. Wolf—little red riding hood—deep woods, flashed across her mind. Cyan felt as though he had invaded her darkest secrets with his eyes. “Derian James,” she said her voice cracked with nervousness. He glared at her, a snide grin on his face as he pressed a buzzer. The loud clack of the unlocked door made Cyan jump. His grin broadened as he handed her a key and pointed to a row of lockers. “You can put your stuff in number 232. No packages, purses, parcels or gum wrappers beyond this point. Lock your things in the locker and you can pick them up on your way out.” His eyes traced her figure again, he touched her shoulders and turned her around she could feel his gaze raking over her backside. “Guess you couldn’t hide any thing in those clothes if you tried,” he said and the other guard at the desk joined in his jaded laughter. She felt cheap and dirty. If she had the courage she would have kneed him in the only place he used to think with. “But I brought him cigarettes and cans of chili, can’t I…” He cut her off mid sentence, “No! Mail them.” He barked his eyes turning to green beads in deep sockets that gave him a Neanderthal appearance. “Nothing can be brought in by visitors beyond this point.” She did as she was told and he pressed the release on the lock of the door leading into the main area of the prison. The loud metallic clang as the door slammed shut behind her sent dread up her spine as the door locked behind her. How horrid it must feel to hear that noise behind you and know it will be years before you can call your soul your 93

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own. Flesh bumps walked across the nape of her neck and trembled her insides, her knees threatening to buckle under her. She walked the narrow corridor to the glassed in ‘visitors only’ room. The waiting area was a series of long banquet tables and stiff looking chairs. A coffee pot sat at one end with Styrofoam cups piled next to it. There was an ashtray on each of the long tables. The chairs and tables were bolted to the concrete tiled floor. Strung as tight as a cheap guitar string, knowing if he touched her she’d come, Cyan waited for Derian. The long drive here with all the past encounters with him, his letters telling her in graphic detail what he wanted to do to her, warmed and excited her. Sometimes her vagina ached with remembering the releases sex with him gave her. Cyan’s thoughts went back to the motel where she was going to stay for the weekend. When she arrived at the motel, she had stopped in her room long enough to take a quick shower and change clothes. Her sweat and damp reminders of having sex with Derian made her feel soiled. She was sure she smelled of lust and longing. Quickly she had showered, her body begging her to spend some time to masturbate, to let the slow hot stream play lover to her cunt. She needed release. She knew how to get it thanks to Derian’s patient teachings. On that long weekend he had laid her on the bed and held her hand showing her, helping her to dip into her own well and spread the juices around her clitoris. He watched while she worked the hard little nub. Several times she tried to stop embarrassed that she could make herself feel so good, Derian quickly used his tongue on her to pull her desire back to fever pitch. He wouldn’t finish the job for her. He insisted she couldn’t quit until she climaxed and she had to bring herself to that climax he wasn’t going to do it for her. “When I’m not around, when you want me, think of this,” he said as he held her hand to her clitoris and he slid his penis into her. She came immediately and violently. She convulsed as the waves of release erupting by her own hand and the sense of Derian’s hard shaft being squeezed by the contractions of her vagina. “If you need me between your legs, and your fingers aren’t enough, get a dildo or use a hair brush handle, just keep me in your thoughts. Feel me riding in and out shoving my hot shaft into your pussy so deep you can taste it.” He kissed her and caressed her until her shuddering release ceased. She pulled her thoughts back to the now. As she glanced toward the matron sitting at the desk outside the glassed in enclosure she realized the woman was staring at her. The way she was eyeing Cyan it was as though she knew the thoughts racing through her mind. Cyan felt her stomach churn. The woman seemed to be stripping her with her eyes. Her gaze lingered over Cyan’s breasts and then slid down over her stomach into her crotch and back up to her 94

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eyes. When their eyes met the matron slithered her long tongue out and wetly traced the thick fullness of her lips in a sensuous display that made Cyan shiver. The woman seemed to be raping her with her penetrating gaze. Turning abruptly Cyan focused her attention outside. Chills sneaking the length of her spine raised the hairs on the nape of her neck and she shuddered. Where was Derian? She was becoming increasingly agitated and fearful of this place. Cyan waited, her breath seemed to echo in the large room where the attendant said they would bring Derian. She sat at one of the long tables and waited. She paced the floor her footsteps echoing the emptiness of her heart and the room looking out the barred windows at the fences, razor wire and armed guard turrets she waited. Finally, she heard a click and the door opened. Derian saunter in. He took her hand and put it around his waist. “We’re only allowed two kisses. One when you come in and one when you leave,” he said pulling her to him. “We can only hold a kiss for thirty-eight seconds,” he said before his hot tongue forced her lips open and engaged in combat with her tongue. “I missed you,” he groaned into her ear. She could feel his dick swell against her. “I missed you too,” she said. His hands slid down her back and caressed her bottom. He held her a few seconds longer and then took her hand and led her to one of the tables. “Sit here,” he said putting her on one side of the table. He walked around and sat opposite her. She was embarrassed to be creating the hardness in his groin the bulge obvious in his tight jeans. The prison guards standing around everywhere watching enjoying the dynamics of yearning the prisoners and their guests put on hold. There was one other visitor, a priest with a man talking at one of the tables on the other side of the room. She hadn’t seen them before. She thought she was alone in the room. They weren’t paying attention to Derian’s swelling cock or her embarrassment. He released her hand. “I was working on a sweat lodge for a ceremony we are having tonight. I wish you had picked another weekend to visit.” She wanted to tell him she picked the time he asked her to pick. She wanted to get up and run out of the frightening place, she hated him and his arrogant ways at that moment. Cyan was powerless to do anything, but what he asked. Or was it her lust, she wondered. Was his behavior, his brusque manner to be attributed to his current environment. Derian sat up and took one of her hands. “Open your legs and look into my eyes. We are going to fuck right here in front of these assholes,” he said. She looked at him in disbelief. They couldn’t reach each other under the table. What was he thinking, was he 95

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insane. “Do it, baby please,” he pleaded with her. “Sit back with your legs spread facing me so I have access to your cunt.” Reluctantly Cyan leaned back in her chair eyeing the guards. Slowly she opened her legs; she could feel the air rush in between her hot thighs. “Feel me. I’m fucking you. I am sliding in and out. My hot meat full of your juices is slipping,” he drooled the word in a long hiss, popping the “p’s” like her frazzled nerves. “In and out of that hot little pussy of yours.” He rolled the words over his tongue like he had done to her clit. “I’m like the pistons in your car firing every time I get near your cunt wall.” His whisper was raspy, sexy and full of the torrent of raw emotions that taunted her dreams. He whispered her through sex that never really happened unless you believe in possibilities. She could feel the wetness between her legs, her breathing became erratic. “Now,” Derian gasped as he squeezed her hand and lunged forward into the table. She couldn’t stop herself from going over the edge. She had an orgasm right there in front of God and the guards. She could see their wicked smiles turn to sneers. They smiled as though they knew and enjoyed every lecherous minute of it. She closed her eyes and let the climax linger as her juices flowed warm and wet. Derian smiled. “That was good wasn’t it?” his raspy sex-in-a-minute voice teased. “Any time you want more baby just open your legs. I’ll be there. Suck me in. Help me with your hands. We’ll fix you up baby. We’ll make your pussy sing until you beg for mercy.” Cyan felt herself blush. Her hard braless nipples scraped inside her silk shirt. Derian stared at her beasts and moistened his lips with his tongue. He made a sucking motion, he picked up her hand and kissed her palm and snaked his tongue over it. He put two of her fingers in is mouth and sucked on them all the while staring into her eyes. “These are your tits,” he said around her fingers, “feel me suck those hard little nubbies, feel my teeth chew gently, feel me baby. I am trying to suck them dry,” his black-eyed gaze burned into hers. “Times up,” one of the guards said. Derian grabbed her hand and pulled her from behind the table. He planted a wet hot kiss on her lips and slithered his tongue deep inside her. He gave her rear a pat as he released her. “Bye,” he said. Turned on his heel and sauntered away, the guards sneered at her. She felt limp and soiled again like that time at the motel. He had used her and tossed her aside like dirty linen. He had humiliated her in public. He again treated her as if she was yesterday’s garbage. Why she wondered? Or, was it for the guards benefit, 96

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was she being overly sensitive? Did she read things into Derian’s actions that were of her own making not his? Why did she put up with his abuse, but did she stop trying to please him? No, never--circumstances caused his behavior. Derian wasn’t really like that. Things would change once he was out and they were together. If she pleased him, maybe he would be different. May be he would care the way he did at first when they first discovered each other. May be that was his attraction his brutal, reckless, raw sex, his vulgar lust. He knew how to make love, to please every ounce of her. Yet at times like this, he always left her heated, angry with him for humiliating her, but begging for more. She watched as he sauntered back out the door like a conquering hero. She felt deflated, spent, used. The guard leered at her. She walked through the corridors back to the locker room where she had left her purse and everything else she carried. She pushed the buzzer and the door opened with a loud metallic clank. Cyan was shaking uncontrollably. The key wouldn’t slide into the hole. She dropped it. It clanged angrily on the marble floor. The guards’ laughter walked fingernails on a chalkboard up her spine. Grabbing the key and the last shred of her courage, she opened the locker to retrieve her stuff. The guard looked at her with a knowing look that curled her hair. “His wife was here yesterday,” he said to the other guard. “How does he get such a parade of women coming to see him? The other day it was that sexy blonde. She was a hot number.” “Sure ain’t his sweet disposition,” the other guard said. They laughed mockingly. Cyan tried not to react as the guard released the lock on the front door and it opened loudly. When the door opened and she felt the fresh air, freedom screamed to her. She nearly ran from the building. Being inside a maximum-security prison wasn’t an experience she wanted to repeat anytime soon, not even for Derian, she concluded. Was she nuts, was she so desperate that she would let this man manipulate her this way, that she would go this far. She shook her head, hurriedly slid her key into the ignition of her car, jammed the stick shift into reverse and backed out to face the outer gate. The guard saluted her as he allowed her out of the enclosure. She sped toward the motel, only too glad to be as far away from that place and the smug Derian as she could get.

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Chapter Twenty

Over the next month or so things with Derian intensified. He begged her to leave her husband saying since they had nothing in common anymore, he said, “That man is ruining you.” She should get out from under his manipulative and controlling thumb. Cyan laughed to herself, though it was not a funny joke. If Jerome was manipulating her, Derian was losing his touch because she ate, drank and slept sex with Derian. It didn’t matter that he was two-hundred and fifty miles away. Her senses were ever aware of his body. Her nightly visions of him were as real as his presence in her life when he was able to be with her. The smell of him drifted across her senses. Could a memory drift touching other senses or did his spirit travel the nights pulling her in whenever he willed. The pungent, acrid, rudimentary odor of his sweat, the odor of armpit and crotch and secret hair, where she buried her face in his crotch and sucked his cock. Could that scent drift across her nostrils still? When she went down on him the earthy odor of his groin and his primitive growls encouraged her. That was when they couldn’t get enough of each other. She wondered if opportunity presented itself if they would still lust after each other in an insatiable desperate hunger of new love. Cyan couldn’t close her eyes without seeing Derian’s muscles ripple, his raven eyes glaze over as his hot dick pounded out a tribal rhythm into her ever-willing cunt. If anyone controlled and manipulated her it was Derian. He and his black mesmerizing eyes would be released from prison soon and they could be married. She should dump the green-eyed alcoholic, Jerome. “I need you to be my woman. I can’t bare the thought of someone else with you,” Derian said. *** “What’s with the rag?” Jerome said when she tried a sexy new teddy on him when he came home from work one day. She thought it would arouse him, get his attention. Instead, he brushed by her and grabbed a beer out of the refrigerator. “When’s supper going to be ready? I’m starved.” 98

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“As soon as I get out of this ‘rag’, as you called it, and put some clothes on,” she said. “I’m going downstairs to load some shotgun shells. Call me when it’s ready.” Cyan wasn’t hurt. She had just confirmed what she’d been telling herself all along. His beer and his food were all he lived for. What Jerome thought and did no longer mattered to her either. Derian was right, she was wasting her time, stuck in the sameness, the dullness, and sexless life she lived with Jerome. She was so wrapped up in her passion for Derian she could masturbate while Jerome slept beside her and fantasize an orgy with the three of them. She wondered if green eyes would be aroused watching her have wild jungle sex with Derian. His dick might get hard enough that he’d let her suck on it while Derian’s cock was thrusting between her legs. Would green eyes reach between them to toy with her clitoris and suck on her tits, or would Derian make him watch while he screwed me? What if they could get green eyes small rod to slide into her ass while black eyes did the real work with his man sized rod, ‘fucking her brains out’ as he often said he’d like to do. No, she wouldn’t want the needle dick to have that pleasure, which was for Derian only. She could fantasize one of them suckling each breast while they fingered her clitoris and probed her cunt with their fingers, making her beg for mercy. Green eyes had never heard her beg, or talk fucking, would that make him spill his juices while Derian watched. She tried one more time to reach Jerome. He went in to take a bath, never a shower, always a bath. She found that interesting. She slinked into the bathroom with two glasses of wine and a cinnamon candle. High-heeled shoes, black lace nylons, garter belted and a cameo necklace were all she wore. “You need your back washed?” she purred in her best sex kitten voice. “What the hell!?” Jerome barked struggling to sit up and cover his nakedness. “Can’t a man even take a fucking bath without being interrupted?” She poured both glasses of wine into the tub, dropped the candle in–it hissed angrily as the flame hit the water. She stormed out of the bathroom slamming the door behind her. “That fucking college has warped your brain woman, you turning into a pervert,” he shouted after her. That cold morning she had enough of Jerome’s drinking and she packed her clothes and a few personal items and left. She jumped from the frying pan into the proverbial fire. She left her green-eyed tyrant and rented a place for herself. Derian, released from prison, came to visit over the long Christmas weekend. It was a rollercoaster ride of passion drenched days and nights. The love fest at the motel before was 99

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nothing compared to the ups and downs of his visit this time. Derian came in like a sailor on shore leave after months at sea. He banged her in every room in the apartment in positions she didn’t know were humanly possible. He draped her over the back of the couch face down and entered her there while standing behind her. The kitchen table was hard on her back, but the idea of screwing on the table thrilled her, what would her mother say. She laughed in the middle of Derian’s rhythmic pounding as he lay on top of her and she had to explain to him why. He laughed too then. He said “I think we should make this really good then.” He sat her up and pulled her to the edge of the table and licked her clitoris, he pulled her into his face and sucked and toyed with his tongue and teeth until she climaxed. He laid her on her stomach and fucked her ass with the top half of her on the table. “Do you think mom would have wanted to be in on this one?” he said with a throaty groan as he came hot and hard into her. When he wasn’t sleeping or eating they were having sex, at least for the first two days. Cyan was soaking her aching body and tender vagina in a luxurious bubble bath while her shaman slept replenishing his virility. The magic he dredged from her body could only be conjured by a shaman she thought as she relived some of their hot sex sessions. He was like a racehorse, a stud, a dog in heat, a buck in rut. “Veni, vidi, vici.” He came, he saw, he conquered as the Latin phrase goes. She closed her eyes and layback resting her head on the bath pillow breathing in the heady bayberry and vanilla candles she lit before sliding into the tub. The aroma soothed her jangled nerves. She nearly dozed off when she heard the clink of glass upon glass. She jolted upright and there stood Derian stark naked, wearing only his most charming smile, his bronze skin glistening in the subdued candlelight. He held two glasses of wine. Smiling his disarming smile he said, “Mind some company?” He handed her one of the glasses and slid into the frothy sweet smell of bubbles covering Cyan. “To us,” he said holding his glass for her to clink with hers. “But, you aren’t…” She stopped before she finished the statement. He wasn’t supposed to drink. He knew that. He was taking a drug called Antibuse™ that would make him violently ill if he drank while he was on it. That was part of his parole conditions, he would take the drug, and he would not drink or take illegal drugs. It was a preventive medicine. Cyan wondered if he had stopped taking it. She didn’t dare ask. His black eyes warned her she was about to tread over a burning bridge. 100

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Derian pulled her right leg up out of the warm sudsy water and placed it on his shoulder as he slid closer to her. He ran his fingers the length of the shinny trim leg. He kissed her toes, ankle, calf and inner thigh. Then he retreated for another swallow of wine. He downed his glass and slid up to her in the tub putting both of her legs over his shoulders. He guided his penis into the mouth of her cunt. Bending toward her he caressed a breast in each hand, found her lips and sucked the lower one as he squeezed her nipples. His dick sat hard and poised ready to enter where she needed him to be. She slid forward trying to push him in. “Don’t be impatient. All in good time,” he chided her. He raised a breast to his mouth and nibbled on the taunt hard nipple. Cyan arched her back, baring her throat and he dove at it, like a vampire he pressed his teeth into her smooth white neck. He sucked and chewed on her neck and worked his way up to her earlobe nipping and nibbling. He breathed heavily in her ear and grabbed her hips to force her onto his shaft, his legs went out behind her and he picked her up to sit on him. Slowly he raised and lowered her undulating in and out of her vagina. She pulled him into her chest and he suckled a breast hard, as his stiffness sent shock waves through her body. He let go of one breast to grasp the other and suck on it. Derian pulled her head down and kissed her feverishly. He lay back in the tub pulling her on top of him. Stroking her ass as she rode him, he pulled her back and forth on him draining the last of his juices from his spent rod. When they cooled down he helped her up and they rinsed off under the shower. He towel dried her and laid her on across the bed. The bottle of lavender lotion was on the nightstand and Derian took it and spread it over her body. He massaged her back from the tip of her neck to the bottom of her feet, pausing on her buttocks long enough to massage them with extra tenderness, kneading them until Cyan began to groan. Then he turned her over and poured a stream of lotion from her left big toe to her left breast, and back down the right side of her body. Slowly he caressed every inch of her massaging the lotion into her breasts, down over her rib cage. Circling one hand on each hip he brought them to the middle over her navel and down to her mound. She squirmed when he rubbed the inside of her thighs without touching her vulvas. Cyan twisted under Derian’s manipulating, writhing with desire. His back was turned to her when she sat up and began nipping down his spine, she kissed his buttocks and he rolled over onto his back on the bed. She grabbed his cock and began sucking it. Derian let her explore his maleness briefly then he flipped her onto her back and fed his penis into her wet, warm mouth as he straddled her head. He bent over her, placing his hands on the bed in front of him and let her eat him to arousal. As he became more heated he started to rock with her, carefully so as not to dislodge his penis from her hot mouth, he swiveled and went 101

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down on her mound. His fingers pulled apart the lobes of her sex and he circled her clit with his tongue. She writhed under him and moaned as her pleasure wept juices from her darkest parts. He licked her anus with his tongue and came in her mouth as she squealed with delight under what his tongue massaged. He tasted the earthy sweet honey of her womanhood as she squeezed her thighs together holding him into her cunt. “So good,” she moaned around his thick rod. They slept briefly replenishing their spent bodies. *** Cyan got up first and fixed a pork chop and potato dinner for them. Derian ate as though he hadn’t eaten in a week. This pleased her. After dinner he said, “I have some things I want to teach you. You need to know how to please yourself when I’m not here so you won’t go out looking for some other guy to get you off”. “You already gave me explicit instructions about how to masturbate, for which I’ll be eternally grateful,” she said, smiling into his ebony eyes. “But I have something you’ve never tasted before,” he said teasing her. “Get undressed,” he said as he went to lock the door and draw the drapes shutting out the world and making the apartment seem like a cozy nest. “Come here,” he said pulling a dildo out of his suitcase. “This is what they call a French tickler,” he said. She looked at the apparatus he held. It looked like a hard cock with little wormlike things and nubs all over its length. He took her hand in his and rubbed the palm of it over the nubs, some were stiff and short some long and rubbery. He twirled it in her hand the sensation of it in her palm excited her. He traced up her inner arm with it to her armpit. Raising her arm, he slid the dildo down her side and under her breast. “Feel how good it feels, everywhere you put it,” he said. “Open your mouth and suck it so you get to feel it and remember its sensations,” he said his voice horse with lust. Derian pulled a length of silk cord out of his suitcase. It had a knot on one end and beads that sat down at the knot. “Come into the bedroom where it’s comfortable. I’ll show you how to use these.” Cyan felt the moths begin to churn in her stomach again. The visions of whole stores just for sex toys warmed her cheeks. Something that Jerome would never dream of and her mother would probably faint in horror over. Deliciously wicked, she decided as she willingly followed Derian to the bedroom. Sex toys were another area she had never explored. Derian pulled her down on the bed beside him. “Rub your clit until you start to get excited and you can feel your juices starting to lubricate your cunt,” he said. The 102

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words came out like an order, not a tender plea. “Just do it,” he said looking askance at her questioning stance. “You do it, please,” She begged. “No, you have to do this yourself. I’ll watch. Believe me, watching you do yourself, drives me wild,” he said giving her a wet heavy kiss. He held her hand and pressed it between her legs “Come on baby, feel how good you can make yourself feel.” He used his middle finger to push her middle finger down between her vulva and onto her clitoris. Slowly and deliberately he guided her finger in a circle around the hard knob, into her vagina to get some of its moisture and back to the clit to rub it and explore its shape with her own moistness. She closed her eyes and leaned back moaning, feeling the warmth of her cunt oozing as she pulled more of it to lubricate her clit. Then he released her hand. “Keep at it,” he murmured. He pulled her into a sitting position in front of him. He sat behind her. She could feel his hard dick growing up the length of her spine as he reached into her pussy, being sure her hand was still working her clit. Cyan leaned against his chest, his shaft hot and hard against her ass and back, as it grew wider and taller. Derian brought the French tickler around as he leaned her back into him and raised her legs bending her knees over the top of his, lifting her bottom off the bed slightly. He slowly manipulated the dildo, turning it and lubricating it with her own juices, as he gently pushed it in a little at a time, he didn’t slide it all in at once. Leisurely, manipulating her hand and the dildo in opposite rhythms he eased the device into her vagina and out nearly all the way and back in by degrees. She could feel the fold of her vagina wrapping around the dildo and then releasing it as it went in and out, up and down the tunnel of her vagina. She felt the spiraling sensation as though Derian was turning it as he pulled and pushed it into her cunt and out. The French tickler created new sensations as it slid in, each nub, each little worm walking the walls of her cunt awakening sensations she didn’t know she could feel. Derian held her as she undulated against his hard cock pressing into her back. “Talk baby, tell daddy what you feel,” he groaned as his excitement grew and juices spurted up her back. “Good,” she gurgled out as a myriad of new sensations ripped through her in a frenzied gyration of moves she climaxed again and again. “What? How good? Tell me. Make me cum with your explanation of how good.” Derian held on to her keeping her from yanking the dildo out of her cunt in her excitement. She threw her head back and arched her back against him and he sucked her 103

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mouth into his as she reeled in ecstasy. “So good,” she shuddered. “It’s so fucking good. It feels like I want to turn inside out. Like something in me can’t reach far enough. I oh, I just want to savor this, just drown myself in the feeling.” “Didn’t I tell you? Here you work it now,” he said teasing the end of it into her and out just ever so slightly. Cyan didn’t want the intoxicating rhythm to stop. When Derian released the dildo she immediately circled her fingers around it and pushed it into her pussy, squeals of delight sloshing out of her wet mouth, she was almost drooling at the delicious feeling the French tickler continued to inflict on her tender cunt. She rocked back and forth into her cunt. She scurried her ass forward trying to get it deeper. Derian laughed, “That a girl, you want more. You want bigger. You want deeper.” He shoved her forward onto her shoulders and knees then he pulled her legs so she wound up on her stomach. “Hold on to it. Now it will go deeper,” he said as he raised her up to her knees with her shoulders still resting on the bed. He egged her on. “Stick that cock all the way into your cunt. What does it feel like slut? How do you feel bitch,” his hot breath, his rough sexy voice increased her excitement all over again. He drew circles with his own spurting cock on her buttocks and back. He slid his wet dick into her ass. “Oh, god. Oh, jeeze. Oh, fuck,” she moaned writhing from side to side. “Ride it baby, do it,” he coaxed as he brought his full cock into her, his weight down on top of her as he climaxed. He rolled her over and straddled her again. He slid her hands off the dildo and pulled it out of her, replacing it with his own cock. “Nobody but me should give you that much pleasure when I’m here,” he said. Cyan screamed and locked her legs around him as tight as she could. He sunk his dick to the hilt and his balls slapped against her ass. “Yezz,” he groaned as his hot cum spurted again and again into her. He bit into her shoulder and gave her a deep blood sucking hickey, increasing her climax. She squirmed and groaned reaching multiple orgasms as he rode with her, enjoying her satisfaction as much as his own. Exhausted they lay holding each other. Derian cooed. “Oh baby, you are the best and I have so much to show you yet.” “There can’t be much more than you’ve already shown me. I have never been so fulfilled, so satisfied Derian.” Cyan didn’t know how much more she could take. Sex every couple hours and it never got old or stale. It was always new. Was it supposed to be like this? Is this what all the raving about sex was actually about? She had been missing this for so many years. Her vagina ached from overuse, but what a delicious ache, she decided. 104

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*** The long weekend ended too soon. They kissed long and hard as Derian was about to leave to go back to the reservation. “I’ll be back next weekend. Miss me.” He said as he put his stuff in the car. “I will miss you,” Cyan said, and she knew she would.

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Chapter Twenty-One

Sharee’s work-study for the art department meant that even though the school was closed she was on campus when Cyan went back to work. “So tell me girl. Fill me in on all the juicy details,” she said plunking down in the chair beside Cyan’s desk. “Nothing to tell. Veni, vidi, vici,” she said. “You are glowing and you blushed when you said nothing happened. I know Derian he is a raging stud.” “Now how would you know that? You are his cousin,” Cyan questioned. “Hey girls talk.” She said slapping Cyan on the shoulder. “So give, tell me. What’s he really like? How does he like to do it best?” Cyan felt herself turning beet red, much to Sharee’s delight. “Would you believe we never did it the same way twice?” She said turning back to her computer and pretending she was busy. Sharee spun Cyan’s chair around, “The details. I have to know the details.” “Are you writing a book?” Cyan said, not giving an inch. “You would let an old friend, who by the way introduced you to the Black Knight, dangle here delirious and jealous because you won’t even give her something she can use to fantasize about while she masturbates in her lonely, did I mention, celibate, lonely –apartment alone?” Cyan laughed at Sharee theatrics. “You take the cake girl. Well, I sure can’t tell you about it here in front of the ears and eyes of this place. Why don’t you come over tonight and we’ll have a wine and talk.” Sharee squealed in delight. “I can’t wait girl,” she said jumping up from the chair and heading out the door. “See you about six-ish then.” “Okay,” Cyan waved at her. It was a long afternoon and Sharee bringing up Derian didn’t make it go any faster. Her mind wandered back constantly to one or another of their lovemaking sessions of the weekend. I swear I’m so horny, I’m afraid I must be a nymphomaniac. My mother sure would think so if she knew. She used to say dad was an every-nighter, which she hated. How could you hate having sex every night? I could have it every hour with 106

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Derian and not get tired of it. Cyan went to the woman’s room and splashed cold water on her face and fixed her make up hoping to chase the thoughts of Derian away long enough for her to get the data entries she needed to make for the day done. *** The evening with Sharee passed quickly. They laughed a lot and Cyan was glad for the distraction. Sharee wanted her hair trimmed. That was one of Cyan’s second callings. Remembered her years as a beautician as she struggle through college she, was good at that. She loved doing things for Sharee, as she always did things for other people. Everyone called Sharee, “Nana” because she took in any stray being no matter if they were human or animal. She was a dear friend. If Derian was her cousin he had to be as wonderful as she was, once Cyan got past what incarceration and the reservation had done to him. Sharee and Cyan exchanged pictures of the orphans they were supporting with their monthly donations. “We sure are a couple of softies. It’s a wonder we have anything left for ourselves,” Sharee teased. “Somehow our donations never leave us with less. It’s got to be that law that says give away the old to make room for the new. You know like give a way the old money that you’ve had for a week to make room for the new pay check.” “Yeah, right,” Sharee laughed. “That sounds like a statement my bill collectors would have made. I don’t know how you do it girl. But, I have my grants and my Indian money and I still wind up short.” After they washed the dishes and put them away, Sharee said, “I’ve got to charge out of here, I have studying to do for midterm exams and I’m model for the art class tomorrow. “Model?” Cyan questioned. “Their mid-term project is to paint a nude. Guess who gets to be the nude model,” she said swirling around with one hand on her hip and the other behind her head. “Moi.” “How positively outrageous,” Cyan said laughing. “What’s so funny? Don’t you think I have a good enough body?” Sharee said pushing her bottom lip out in a pout. “I was just thinking what Derian would say if he knew,” she said. “And yes you have a great body – better than mine that is for sure.” “Its extra money, quite a bit of extra money,” Sharee said giving Cyan a hug. “That’s why I do it. They always need models. If you’re interested I’ll put in a word for you.” 107

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“Shameless hussy, I wouldn’t dare.” Cyan teased as she opened the door for her friend. *** When Cyan was alone she undressed and looked at her body in the full-length mirror on the back of the bathroom door. She turned this way and that looking for sags, or bags. She couldn’t let herself get frumpy, not if she expected to hold on to Derian. “I need to keep him. I need his sex.” She said aloud. “But nude model?” The thought made her flush with embarrassment and raised flesh bumps on her skin. “Not Cyan Lassiter, not on your life!”

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Chapter Twenty-Two

Derian sauntered into her office at the college and kissed the back of her neck sending shivers up her spine. “Hi, precious lady,” he said. “You about ready for some hot and heavy sex?” “Shhh,” Cyan said spinning around in her chair. “Someone could hear you.” “So what? I’m not in the pen any more, you are officially estranged from the green-eyed monster and I’m horny as hell.” His black eyes sparkled with mischief and lust. Cyan couldn’t resist when he pulled her to him and kissed her. “I’ll be ready in about twenty minutes. Why don’t you take my keys and go to the apartment to wait for me?” Derian took the keys and kissed her gently on the cheek. *** When Cyan walked down the hallway to the apartment she could smell that Derian had cooked a meal for them. She tried the door, it was locked. She rang the doorbell. He opened the door naked except for a towel he had tied on him like an apron. “No wonder the door was locked,” she said grinning from ear to ear. Derian reached out into the hallway and pulled her inside. She tried to keep from laughing as he planted a bold kiss on her lips. Cyan backed away and laughed uncontrollably. “What in the name of creation… What if someone else had come to the door?” she said still laughing. “They would have been rightfully shocked,” he said as he turned his back on her and sauntered back out to the kitchen his bare buttocks waving at her like a toreador’s cape coaxing a bull to charge. She let out a low wolf whistle and Derian flicked his towel turned apron on to the floor in the hallway as he slipped into the kitchen. “Eat your heart out. No sex until after dinner,” he said. Slowly Derian undressed her while the coffee was perking. He flung each piece of clothing in a different direction. He left her panty hose and high heels–“ah, you look good enough to be the main course, but I think we’ll save you for dessert,” he said, as the buzzer went off indicating his meal was done. He pulled a soufflé out of the oven. They ate in silence, her nearly naked and him totally naked. He waited on her like being naked was the most natural thing in the world. He made her get up and get coffee and the desert 109

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of sherbet so he could watch her walk in nothing but pantyhose and high heels. “Woman, do you realize how damn sexy you are?” After dinner Derian said he had something else he wanted to introduce her to. “Remember those beads we never got to use before?” Cyan remembered and was curious as to what he thought he was going to do with them. “Sure, they’re still on the top of the nightstand where you put them.” “Good. Let’s go see if we can find something to do with them,” he said pulling her toward the bedroom. Derian lit some candles that he had placed around the bedroom and in the bathroom. He kissed her passionately, as if he hadn’t seen her in a million years. Sliding her down on the bed he removed her high heels and pantyhose, as he sucked on her breasts. He toyed with her clit and massaged her hardening tits as he led her to the shower. He positioned her facing the shower stream. Derian adjusted the head of the shower to pulsating and the water to nearly steam hot. The hot prickling, pulsating rhythm warmed her body while he nuzzled and kissed her neck, her spine and her buttocks. He reached between her legs and massaged her mound. Then he slid both of them into a sitting position with him behind her. Cyan melted against him. A day without sex with him in the same house was like starvation. She was addicted to him like an addict on crack. Slowly, he teased her clitoris until it was hard, then he spread the lips of her cunt so the shower pulsed against it. Derian pulled her up on his lap so his dick could stick out between her legs, the shower massaged both of their sex organs. She squirmed against him as he nibbled on her neck and breathed heavily into her ear. “Does it feel good?” he asked his breath hot, voice a husky rumbling in his chest. She felt the rumble against her back. “Oh yes,” she responded as waves of orgasms crested to make her lose all sense of herself. Derian squeezed back and forth beneath her. Her body undulated above him and the pulsating shower pumping his rod brought him to a climax. As he spurted, he grabbed Cyan’s hard tits and squeezed them pulling her tightly into him. Quickly, he pulled her up with him and pushed her into the shower wall. He lifted one of her legs and hooked her knee in the crook of his elbow as he pried her vulva open and buried his cock in her as deep as he could. Groaning with each thrust the shower covering them both in a warm cocoon, they came together again and again. They leisurely towel dried each other. “We’ll have to save the beads for later. You’ll love them,” he said as they snuggled between the sheets in satisfied exhaustion. 110

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*** He went out later that night. When he came back he wanted sex. He was too drunk to get an erection and he blamed her. “You castrating bitch. No one could get hard with you. Prick tease. You don’t know the first thing about pleasing a man. Do I have to teach you everything?” He ranted and raved until he passed out in front of the television, while she stared at him in disbelief. This was the Derian she thought was gone once he was out of prison. This was the Derian booze created. She didn’t want this Derian. She let him lay there where he had passed out and went to bed. She had never seen him this bad before. The alcohol turned him into the devil himself. She was glad it was only verbal abuse. She was shocked and afraid. He could not, should not be drinking. He could wind up back in prison and if this is how he was when he drank, he had no business drinking ever. She fell into a restless sleep and awoke several times to go check and see if Derian was okay. He snored loudly. Cyan slept alone. *** The next morning it was as though nothing had happened the night before. Cyan woke up to him massaging her breasts. He kissed her eyes, her nose and her mouth. He sucked her breasts first one and then the other. She reached between his legs and caressed his rod. Unhurriedly, she stroked it, looking up into his eyes to see them glaze slightly as he enjoyed her attention. She turned and put her mouth down over his cock, sucking tenderly. She pulled back and put his balls in her mouth and toyed with them. It was her turn to make him want and wait. Derian alphabetized her clitoris briefly. He turned, pulling his penis from her mouth. He reached on the nightstand and came back with the string of beads. “I shove these in one at a time into your ass, when you’re ready to come I pull them out one at a time, or all at once with a single jerk,” he said. Cyan looked at him incredulously, doubt in her mind. “Do it. Its sex you’ve never experienced. Okay, do it to me and the next time, I’ll do it to you. It doesn’t hurt, but it creates a sensation like nothing else can.” She did as he instructed her. One, two, three, four, with each new bead Derian groaned and lunged deeper into her with little cries of pleasure. After the fifth and final bead, he rocked and slammed and bucked her, ravishing her mouth, neck and tits with wet hot kisses. He came back up to her ear, “Now,” he rasped. With a swift jerk, Cyan pulled the silk thong with the beads out of his ass and Derian yelled. “Shit, oh shit, baby,” he buried his head in her neck and thrust so deep into her, she gasped involuntarily. “Oh baby, oh baby,” he said rolling back and forth on her, 111

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easing his throbbing rod in and out as he moaned. His release had been so explosive Cyan didn’t feel her own climax. She felt only the fullness of Derian and his cum oozing out around his shaft and wetting the sheets beneath her. Sated they slept. *** When he awoke, she was laying there watching him sleep. His face was so peaceful. He reminded her of a baby, so innocent and passive. She kissed his forehead and mounted him, sitting on his taunt abs, teasing him by brushing her breasts across his eyes, nose and then his mouth. He grabbed her and sucked a breast into his hungry mouth. Cyan pulled away from him, not letting him have his way this time. She traced down his chest with her tongue, licked his navel and kissed his stomach and down his left inner thigh. Derian groaned and let her roam his body with hot kisses. She avoided his rod, though it bounced up hardening as she advanced around his body with wet tongue, little nips and kisses. She sucked on his nipples, nibbled on his chin and kissed him a long deep French kiss. All the while she ravished his body she kept his hands from touching her. “It’s your turn baby,” he said. As he held her away from his body and rolled over manipulating her so she was lying on top of him, he rocked her gently back and forth up and down, rubbing her breasts on his chest, squeezing her ass cheeks and then running his fingers up and down her crevice. He reached over her ass and into her vagina to titillate her clitoris and dip into her juices. Cyan squirmed as she felt the creamy warmth of her seeping to greet his fingers. He took the wetness and traced his way back up her ass crack and back down between it to her anus. He reached over and got the string of beads. She felt one slide into her asshole. The feeling caused her to slide up on him towards the headboard at the sudden pressure of something inserted into her ass. “Hey, relax. Suck them in with your breathing. Remember how you did me. These are smaller than my cock. They’re easy. You took my dick and enjoyed it. Trust me, you’ll love this,” he whispered in her ear. Cyan relaxed and let him slip the beads in one at a time. It created a sensation that was like none other she had ever known. He pulled her up on him and inserted his cock into her moist vagina. She accepted him, which felt familiar, which felt good. The fullness of the beads in her anus and him in her vagina caused a wave of semi-climax she hadn’t had before. He inserted another bead, it didn’t hurt but it was such a strange sensation, she caught her breath again. By the third bead the surprise of something being shoved into her ass didn’t cause her discomfort and she relaxed feeling his cock shoving in and out of her, in rhythm to her heart. She began squirming on top of Derian as he worked his dick in her until she was ready to climax. 112

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“Is it time?” he sighed into her ear as he pumped, slowly, deliberately into her hot cunt. “Are you going to give daddy a big climax now?” “I’m ready,” she groaned. “Oh no, not until you’re sure. Tell me how ready you are,” his voice had that teasing edge. He wasn’t going to make this easy for her. “Beg bitch, you have to beg to get those beads out of your tight little ass,” he said grunting with his thrusts. “Damn it Derian, do it now,” she screamed as she arched her back and drove herself onto his dick as hard as she could. “Your ready then,” he teased again pulling back so she couldn’t get him fully into her. She relaxed, thinking he would tease her relentlessly. She wondered what she needed to do to convince him. He must have felt her relax and give up he popped the first bead out of her ass. He thrust into her and popped the next one out. With every thrust in he popped another bead out until they were all out. The shock gave her a double climax. She thought she was going to go right through the headboard as she drove herself onto his cock and screamed. “Oh fuck me, Derian. God fuck me. Give me your cock. Help me, ummmm…” she groaned as she crested again and again. She writhed on his cock, she swallowed his mouth sucking his tongue and moaning. She never wanted to stop. It was a hair’s breath away from pain it felt so unbelievably good. They lay in each other’s arms caressing and fondling until the heat absolved and they could talk. “Let’s go to the flowage and walk that swinging bridge, go down those nature trails and see winter slipping away. I bet the river is breaking up,” she said as Derian starred at her propped up on one elbow. Cyan felt like she wanted to run naked in the woods with him. She wanted to play Jane and Tarzan or perhaps it was Adam and Eve, he made her feel so brand new.

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Chapter Twenty-Three

After lunch at a small café they drove to the flowage and watched the seagulls making love in the air. They saw rabbits chasing each other in their spring rituals, chipmunks humping each other and two eagles playing in the shaft of an air current where they mated in mid-flight soaring so high, Cyan lost sight of them, then falling at breakneck speed to the earth as they hung together attached by an invisible thread and their love for each other. They parted and flew their separate ways barely stopping soon enough to keep from plunging into the water. She was glad to see she and Derian weren’t the only ones with spring fever. They lingered at the waterfalls and followed every trail into the sloppy wet underbrush of early spring. A doe and fawn startled as they approached a crag in the trail that jutted out over the river. They sat on the rock formation and watched fish trying to jump up stream, “to spawn,” he said. “Makes me want to mate with you right here and now,” he said reaching into her mound and rubbing his hand in that familiar private place that they shared. He folded his jacket and laid it behind her and eased her onto her back her head on his jacket. He unbuttoned and unzipped her jeans and pulled them down over her buttocks until they went down to her knees. He unzipped his pants and slid his hard penis into her as he picked her up and sat her in his lap. She put her arms around his neck and pressed her breasts into him. He kissed her neck and brought her head down so their lips brushed each other. With the ease of a weightlifter, he picked her up and slid her down on his stick, holding her around the waist he raised and lowered her with the motion of his thighs. She helped glide back and forth until they were thrashing at each other with grunts and groans. He laid her back down with his hands under her ass cheeks to cushion them from the rock and finished his climax. They kissed passionately and he reached between them and worked Cyan’s clitoris until he felt her hit her peak, she jerked and writhed and begged him never to stop as she sang her own release. Afterwards he helped Cyan back into her clothes. “You should never wear clothes, they cover all my delicious treats,” he said. 114

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Cyan felt the hot rush turning her cheeks pink as she snuggled into his shoulder. “You are such an animal,” she cooed, nibbling at his neck and ear lobe as he buttoned her blouse back up. “We should buy forty acres in the middle of Michigan’s wilderness, or a Colorado Mountain top,” he said grabbing her and holding her into him. “Then we could play Tarzan and Jane for real—never wear any clothes, never any interruptions. I want you all to myself, always,” he groaned fucking her ear with his tongue as they walked. They went down by the river. Derian undressed her slowly, toying with each part of her body, running fingers and tongue wherever he could. Cyan undressed him kissing his bronzed chest and wrapping herself around him, her legs around his waist, her hot breasts rubbed against his hardened pecs. Derian carried her into the stream of icy water and they splashed in the icy cold water until they had cooled their heated bodies. Cyan loved the icy chill of the racing water against her hot clit. She sat in the current of the rushing stream with her legs wide open. The sex of the past few days had left her sore, but the cold water pulled the fever from her thighs and raised the beads of her nipples into hard rocks. She felt so good. She could only hope Derian felt as good. She looked at him and he was standing there lips turning slightly blue while he held his penis in his hands trying to warm his balls. “I guess you’re cold,” she said. “What was your first clue, my blue balls?” he joked. “Ooh, it feels so good to me though.” “Yes, your one hot chick baby. I don’t think your fire will ever go out in that furnace between your legs, but it will be getting dark soon and we should be heading back.” *** The next morning Derian became agitated over something and Cyan couldn’t tell what had set him off. I need to go home,” he said as he finished his breakfast. “What is it?” Cyan asked “I don’t know. I have this terrible premonition that something is going to happen and I need to be there. Do you want to come with me?” “I would Derian, but I have to work at the shelter today. I promised I would. They are so short handed.” He packed his things and left. Cyan worried about him being so agitated. She knew how sensitive he was to ‘the vibes in the wind’, as she called them. His premonitions seemed to be accurate every time.

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Chapter Twenty-Four

She put on her jacket and headed for the women’s shelter. Every third week she spent her Saturday being a Jill of all trades with a broad shoulder for the women who were abused, broke or in some other state of emergency. “There, but for the grace of God, go I.” she said as she saw another woman with black eyes and split lip being led from one of the counselor’s car toward the shelter. “Hi, Nanette,” she called as she walked by the women and opened the door. She noticed the fresh cast on the woman’s arm. Nanette gave Cyan a look that told her it was another wife battering case. They had husbands who were abused too, but not nearly as often. Men seem to be able to just walk away where women acquiesce to being trapped, she thought. She walked by the receptionist’s desk on her way to the lockers to put her purse and jacket away. “Cyan, you have a phone call. They said it was urgent,” she handed her a slip of paper with the hospital number on it. “Sharee needs you to call the hospital”, the note said. “Was it Sharee that called or a nurse?” Cyan asked a knot forming in the pit of her stomach dreading the thought that maybe Sharee was hurt, sick or in an accident. “It was the nurse. She said Sharee couldn’t talk,” she said looking afraid for having reported bad news. “I have to go over to the hospital. Nanette, can you handle it for a bit while I run to the hospital? It seems my friend Sharee is in some sort of trouble.” “Sharee, oh my God. I hope it’s nothing serious. Let us know if she’s okay as soon as you can, will you?” Cyan ran out to the parking lot and jumped into her SUV, silently praying that it wasn’t anything serious. Derian’s premonition crossed her mind. She would call him if there was anything major wrong with Sharee. Sharee was in intensive care. The nurse said a passerby had seen her lying on the street and called 911. “What happened to her? Can I see her?” “She is pretty heavily sedated. I don’t expect she’ll be awake for eight or ten hours at least. She has broken ribs, a broken jaw and several fractures in her arms. I’m 116

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afraid she is messed up pretty bad. We won’t know how badly until she is stabilized and we can do some more tests and x-rays.” “I have to see her,” Cyan said. The room was full of flashing lights and beeping monitors. Sharee was tied to tubes and monitors and various contraptions. The scene looked like something out of one of Stephen Kings books made into a movie. She felt like her knees were going to buckle under her. “Is she going to be all right?” she asked afraid of what the answer might be. The nurse shrugged. “We have done all we can do. The rest is up to her.” “Sharee angel,” Cyan called to her touching her shoulder. She put her hand on her forehead, the only spot that didn’t seem to be tied to some infernal machine. “I’m here Sharee. You hang in there girl. You got to get better. There are a lot of people depending on you.” A tear slid down Cyan’s cheek and landed on the pillow beside her friends head. She bent over and kissed the feverish forehead. “I’ll be right here when you wake up,” she whispered. The nurse brought a chair and put it beside the bed. “If you are going to stay you may as well be comfortable,” she said. “It’s going to be a long wait I’m afraid.” She had to call Derian. What was the use of calling him until she could tell him something? But if she didn’t call him and--God forbid—she didn’t want to think the thoughts that were storming through her head. What if Sharee didn’t make it? What if she died right there in that hospital bed? Derian would never forgive her if she didn’t call. Cyan walked out to the nurses station, “Is there a phone I can use to call her cousin? It’s a long distance call,” she said. The nurse showed her to the pay phone down the hall and she dialed Derian’s number. *** Sharee savagely beaten and raped, lay in a coma while Derian and Cyan sat by her side leaving only to eat and change clothes. Derian, inflamed by the brutal attack began investigating who, why, when, how. The police were not divulging any information because of Derian’s history of violence and his prison record for violent offences. The Indian grapevine was gagged, unwilling or unable to provide Derian with any information about Sharee’s encounter with the evil that left her in a coma. In the elevator together, Derian pushed the stop button. His anger and frustration had affected his life but not his libido. He pushed Cyan into the wall pressing his swelling shaft against her anxious pussy. Being so near to Derian everyday without being able to quell the heat between her thighs made Cyan a breath away from climax with an 117

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uncomfortable ache in her vagina. Derian’s hand between her legs caused her juices to flow and her vagina to ache with desire. He unbuttoned and unzipped her jeans. Squirming to help him slip her jeans over her hips and down her thighs to the elevator floor, she groaned in anticipation. He knelt to extract her left leg while he teased her clit with his tongue. Cyan lifted her foot so he could remove the jeans. He put one leg around his waist as he stood up his hot rod grazed the soft hair between her legs. Feverishly, hungrily she raised his mouth to hers and let her tongue seek out his. He reached a hand up under her sweatshirt and pinched her nipple enough to extract a twinge of pain and pleasure that oozed as a whimper from Cyan’s throat. As Derian massaged her tender nipple she felt her juices spilling down between her legs. His hard piston poised pushing against her lobes spreading them searching for the port of entry to her vagina. With his hand he manipulated his cock so that the pre-cum spurts lubricated her ass and her cunt. He slid his dick into her vagina a slammed her into the wall of the elevator. Derian picked her up off the floor, wrapping both her legs around his waist. His dick found her hot and wet and slid in easily. Cyan’s head went back as the flame between her legs ignited. With his hands free he cupped her ass cheeks. Derian kissed her throat and swallowed her mouth with his. He slammed his rod deeper and deeper with each thrust. Their wait had increased both of their sexual appetites. It wasn’t long before the elevator rocked with their fevered banging against each other. Derian pulled her hard into him and leaned against her. Cock gushing, hot exploding juices into her igniting her cunt to dispel its own juices. She murmured her ecstasy. In a hospital elevator with only minutes alone they sated their passion. Derian’s frustration briefly appeased, he helped Cyan dress after he put himself back together. A sharp wrap on the upper part of the elevator doors startled them. “Everyone okay in there?” a muffled voice called down to them. “Yes,” Derian’s voice came out heated and raspy. “The elevator just quit.” “Try hitting the stop button and then the floor number you wanted again. Sometimes that’s enough to get her rolling again.” Derian looked at Cyan, “Where’s your stop button?” he said, smiling that crooked smile of his. He reached over and hit the floor button knowing full well how to get the elevator moving again. Cyan suppressed a laugh as Derian did what he was told. The elevator jerked, hummed and raised the few feet to the floor above. “You folks okay?” the maintenance man asked as Cyan and Derian got out of the elevator. 118

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They looked at each other trying to suppress the laugh that threatened to burst her sides Cyan nodded, “Fine,” she managed to say as she hurried past the group waiting to board the elevator. “Someone should check that elevator out though. If we were claustrophobic it could have been a bad scene,” Derian said pushing Cyan into the corridor past the maintenance man. The man nodded. “Sorry folks,” he said. Cyan and Derian held their laughter long enough to get to Sharee’s room and then they burst into a rollicking laugh. Tears ran down Cyan’s cheeks. Their last few days had been excruciatingly tense with Sharee hovering between life and death. The tension of Derian trying to ferret out the culprits who did the damage to Sharee and getting nowhere added to the stress they both were under. The elevator incident was enough to relieve all that built up tension and give them a sexual as well as a psychological relief the laughter provided the vehicle for the second. “I have another way of finding out what happened to Sharee, and who did it,” Derian said his arm around Cyan’s waist. He held Sharee’s cold, still hand. “Stone and his goon’s have been looking for a way to get to me. Stone blamed me for getting him sent back to the big house. I know he’s responsible for this. I just need to prove it.” Cyan saw the light go out of his eyes and the old hate and vengeance return. “Derian you can’t go near those men. You will violate your parole. They’ll throw you back inside.” She pleaded with him rubbing his muscular shoulders. As her hands traced his familiar back she could feel the knot tying itself at the base of his neck between his shoulder blades. “There are other ways to get to them.” How Cyan wasn’t sure but anything to stall him, make him look for other choices. The thought of him back behind bars twisted at her insides. “They aren’t going to get away with what they did to Sharee,” he said his black eyes beaded into tiny dots between furrowed brows as they glistened with anger. “Let the cops handle it,” Cyan begged. “They don’t give a damn about skins around here. They won’t do anything unless the solution falls in their laps and they can’t avoid it.” “Promise me you will be careful. You’ll not do anything stupid,” she searched his eyes for some kind of answer, some way to stop him from going after revenge. “Sure,” he said letting go of her waist. He kissed Sharee on the forehead. “I’ll get the suckers who did this to you,” he whispered. Derian turned, kissed Cyan long and hard and headed for the door. 119

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“Call me, if you find out anything. I’ll be here with Sharee,” she pleaded. The knot in the pit of her stomach tightened. A sense of foreboding crept up her spine. She paced the floor. Sharee had been moved to a private room since she was stabilized. Still in a coma, “Nothing more we can do for her,” the doctor said. “We can only wait.” That was four days ago. Cyan looked out the window the lush greenness of spring colored the world. A bird smashed into the window startling her. Cyan’s heart hit rock bottom. “Oh, no,” she whimpered. She looked down on the ground hoping to see the bird take flight. The blue gray and rust sparrow hawk lay on the ground wings spread out to his sides, his head angled strangely to one side. His neck obviously broken, he toppled over. A few jerks and he lay motionless beneath Sharee’s hospital window. Cyan wept. An omen that never ceased to be true—‘A bird hits the window and survives, a message will be coming your way, but if a bird hits the window and dies, a death of someone close,’ Cyan closed her eyes praying all the while hearing her mother’s voice repeat the omen. “Just once God, don’t let it be that way.” She looked at Sharee through her tears. “Don’t leave me friend,” she sobbed as she picked up her hand. A smile crossed Sharee’s lips as though she heard Cyan. Then all the machines began beeping, flashing. A nurse bolted through the door, pushed past Cyan and busied herself with machines and Sharee. Several other nurses and a doctor burst into the room pushing Cyan aside. The room was alive with people and shouted commands. Cold hands, arm around her shoulder a nurse led Cyan to the lounge/waiting room. “You’ll be better off out here out of the way of he doctors and nurses trying to save your friends life,” she said easing Cyan into a cushioned lounge chair. “Would you like some coffee, anything?” Cyan shook her head. She could only hear the screaming, beeping machines, her heart roared in her ears. She knew the doctor’s attempts were futile. The hawk told her the end of the story minutes ago when he died against Sharee’s hospital window. She cried then long, painful release racked her body. Why the beautiful people, why the good one? She begged God for an answer. *** Cyan placed a single white rose on top the white coffin as a tear trickled down her cheek. The tribal shaman chanted in native tongue. The juxtaposition of Indian and white cultures buried Sharee with an unforgettable ceremony like nothing Cyan had ever participated in before. She had a peaceful feeling that Sharee was with them and happy. A huge crowd of mourners shared their grief and celebrated her life. Pain pressed against Cyan’s heart, as tears tried to wash away the anguish she felt. Sharee’s death punctuated 120

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the suddenness of change, the unpredictability of life. Derian put his arm around her, placed a bouquet of daisies on the white casket and led Cyan to the car. He hadn’t said more than a handful of words since Sharee’s death. Grieving silently, dangerously, his moodiness scared Cyan. Withdrawn and inconsolable were the only words she could think to describe how Derian reacted to Sharee’s death. They made love but without the passion and fervor of earlier days. “The people at the Women’s Shelter are fixing a meal for everyone,” Cyan said. “Do you want to stop over there?” “I’ll drop you off. I have something I need to do,” Derian said. *** When he came home it was late and he was like a sex starved wild animal. He undressed Cyan slowly covering every exposed part of her with kisses and little nips as he revealed her nakedness. He nuzzled his way down her throat and between her breasts. Instead of continuing the way he usually did, he went to her feet and took her shoes off. He kissed her feet and circled her toes with his tongue. His wet hot tongue teased the soul of her foot and then went around her ankle. She tried to sit up to reach for some part of him, but he gently put a hand up on her stomach and pushed her back down on the bed. Derian pulled himself up to her waist and undid her pants snap with his teeth. He slithered up to her lips and sucked her lower lip and then slid back down where his hands had unzipped her pants and were bearing her stomach, hips and her mound. She felt his lips hot and hungry on her belly, his tongue snaked in and out and around her navel giving her hot tingles in her vagina. Her juices flowed and as he raised her knees to remove her pants and panties those juices trickled up the crack of her ass lubricating that too. Derian pitched her jeans into the corner and nibbled his way up one inner thigh and down the other with out getting near her begging mound. She arched her back trying to find Derian’s mouth with her cunt, he avoid it and flipped her over kissing her ass cheeks and nibbling on the firm mounds of flesh until she squealed. He slid his fingers under her and toyed with her clit. While his tongue explored her back, his finger entered her vagina, first one then two, after three she felt the pressure of fullness between her legs, his fingers manipulating the soft walls of her womb, finding her G spot, he caused her to spill more of her womanhood. Derian pulled one of her legs over his head keeping his hand firmly planted in her cunt; he slid up her front and chewed her navel. He pulled his hand out from between her legs and she whimpered. Opening her blouse and tracing her bra line with his fingers, he kissed her lips and searched for her tongue with his. He reached his hand around behind her back as he let her leg slide down off his shoulder and undid her bra. Derian’s mouth was hard and hot on her swelling nipples, she arched into him. 121

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“Please Derian, I need your hot shaft between my legs,” she groaned. He quickly obliged pushing her vulva apart with his dick and then entering her with one quick thrust. He oiled her cunt in and out, in and out, then he pulled completely out of her and straddled her body on his knees. Using his hands he manipulated his cock over her body from her mound to her navel—he traced her navel with his dick leaving a trail of cum where ever he went. He circled each breast with the stiff rod. “Look into my eyes,” he murmured. Cyan saw his eyes lit up with excitement. He smiled down at her and then sank his dick into her lips parting them tracing her teeth with his hardness, “Open,” he encouraged. She opened her mouth and he slid his dick in teasing the roof of her mouth. He spent some minutes sliding in and out of her mouth, “Keep your eyes open,” he said. His hand manipulated her breasts. Keeping his cock in her mouth he turned and went down with on her mound. He played the alphabet until Cyan began twisting and moaning, sucking hard on his penis, her teeth leaving little nips as he spurted hot explosive juices in her mouth. Again Derian pulled out of her mouth and spun around thrusting his cock heavily into her vagina. He pumped and groaned as she writhed beneath him. Wave after wave of heat and explosions ripped through Cyan’s body. Each plunge of his dick surged a new flash through her being. She thought she would burst with the intensity of the climax engulfed over and over in her vagina, contracting, squeezing. Derian slowed his aggressive pumping, he eased in and out of her cunt gently bringing her down from the mountainous climax she had. Satisfied he laid down on top of her kissing her neck, ears, and softly on her mouth. “I love you baby,” he said. *** Derian became furiously upset at breakfast over what she wasn’t sure. No sausage to go with his eggs, or the wrong kind of juice, something set him off. It wasn’t hard since Sharee’s death. He exploded with the least provocation. He left in a huff. Later, he came back drunk and that was how the next few days went. He spent little time at home. Cyan would go to work never knowing if he’d be home when she returned or not. Never knowing what mood she’d find him in it had her on edge all the time. Something had to give. She couldn’t live this way. He was abusive now, verbally and physically. He ignored her or shoved her around. She wouldn’t put up with it, she told herself. He drank until he was drunk. Cyan saw a side of him she had never seen before. She wondered what ever possessed her to get mixed up with him. He took her last $10. “Derian, its two weeks until next payday, I need that money.” 122

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“Get by somehow. You have friends. Get a loan from them.” It didn’t seem to matter to him if she had nothing. That money was not enough. “You sure you don’t have some stashed somewhere?” he said rummaging through her dresser drawers tossing clothes on the floor in his search. “Derian stop,” Cyan said searching his face of a spark of the old nurturing Derian. “I’m broke. The ten you have is it.” “Then you’ll have to take me over to Belinda’s. I have to get gas money to get home,” He threw her jacket at her, grabbed her hand and her purse and pulled her toward the door. Cyan didn’t resist. She wanted him to leave. She was tired of his moodiness, his temper tantrums. All he thought about lately was revenge. It turned inward on him and wrapped him in a cloak of foul moods and abusive behavior. She drove him to Belinda’s. Belinda lived in a small cottage on the edge of town. Her driveway was a mile off the beaten path. Derian jumped out and went in to talk to Belinda while Cyan waited. Cyan saw him through the window kissing and fondling Belinda. He guided her to the other room in front of the picture window in the living room, facing the driveway where Cyan sat. It was as though he wanted her to watch. He pulled Belinda’s sweatshirt up over her head and her braless size 38D tits exploded out into the open. Derian faced Belinda toward the windows her arms up over her head, her hands running through his thick black hair. Cyan couldn’t look away. She watched as Derian slid her sweatpants off her. Belinda’s large leg lifted so he could pull one foot out of the pants. Her belly falling in folds nearly to her thighs as the pants fell to the floor. Never turning away from the window, Derian took her from behind. One hand on her mound feverishly exploring her clit, he manipulated her in broad daylight in front of her picture window. His hand in her mound his dick thrusting, bouncing her forward, his other hand rubbing her watermelon boobs while he kissed and chewed and sucked on her neck. Belinda undulated, sucking in all of Derian’s attention. Her bulk dancing in rolling waves of lard like some giant manatee, she bounced with every thrust of Derian’s cock. Cyan watched, held hostage, mesmerized as Belinda gyrated, her face contorted into lurid gestures, her tongue flicking in and out licking her thick lips, rubbing herself into Derian. Her bulk moved in sick waves to her own inner music. Horrified, repulsed, wet with desire, Cyan watched, feeling Derian’s dick pulsing in and out of her instead of the great walrus of a woman he was screwing to death in front of her. 123

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Cyan could almost hear her cries of glee as Derian made her climax. She sagged limply into him when she finished an ugly sordid smile on her face. She waved at Cyan as though she had known all along that she was out there watching and the performance was as much for her as for Derian. Cyan’s juices oozed between her legs and disgusted her with her own peaked desires. She flushed with anger and embarrassment. “But it was oh so good wasn’t it? Did you come baby?” Derian asked as he slid back into the passenger seat. He reached a hand into her crotch, “Ah yes, moist and hot. Pleasing two women at once is so exhilarating,” he said waving the two twenty and one ten dollar bills in her face. “See what five minutes of my dick is worth. Do you realize how much an hour that is? I’m worth it, don’t you think?” he said reaching over and pinching her nipple, a lurid smile on his face and his black eyes sparkling with devilish delight. Cyan pushed his hand away and glared at him. “Home James,” he said. She put the car in gear and started to back out of the driveway. Belinda stood in the window a hot pink see-through negligee barely covering her. She ran her tongue seductively over her full lips, lifting her great breasts, an offering to some ancient god and then blew a kiss at them. Cyan squealed tires on the asphalt as she raced away. Derian laughed that sinister laugh she had come to hate. She was as angry at herself for getting sexually aroused at the sight of Derian making love to another woman, as she was angry at him for knowing she would watch and that she would get off by it. *** Hours later he packed his suitcase and put the French tickler dildo and beads on the nightstand. He grinned, “Some toys for those nights when you can’t sleep. Think of me,” he smacked her on the butt with an open hand, gently cupped and squeezed one cheek and bent over to kiss her. “Remember me and use these,” he said laughing. He left. Cyan stood there staring at the door. His laugh echoing through her mind, it wasn’t a laugh as much as a tormented gurgle, another omen she felt it twisted her guts and she cried out in pain. “Derian,” she crumbled to the floor and lay there crying until she was exhausted.

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Chapter Twenty-Five

The college hired a new person in the mailroom and Driscol introduced Zach to Cyan. She was instantly stunned by the color of his eyes. They were the palest of green eyes reminding her of a faded olive drab army fatigues. His drawl was Texas warmed honey like the color of his hair. When she watched him saunter away, he was poetry in motion. All the single women on staff were trying their best lines on him. Cyan was amused. He was incredibly good looking. His voice sounded like warmed honey looked pouring from a spoon, so rich and smooth, and he was single. The total package was like someone’s fantasy materialized. But not Cyan’s. She looked with the rest, but her heart had been so mangled twice now that she was in no hurry to join the ranks of women lusting after that green-eyed knight. Besides she had Nathan. A true friend. Gentle and sweet, he was enough man for her wounded soul for now. A week later she still hadn’t heard from Derian and she ached with loss and sadness. Some how though, she was relieved not to have to think of him any more. Let him rot in hell, she thought. I’m done being pushed and pulled and manipulated by him. The scene with Belinda tormented her. She didn’t know how she’d react if she ever saw that woman in public. Her face went hot and flushed, her pussy warmed at the picture of Derian screwing this woman in front of her. He scared me with his violent temper and moodiness. How dare he leave me to go out drinking and then expect me to spread my legs for him whenever he wanted? She thought. Angered and hurt, as much by his actions as her allowing him to get to her and then allowing herself to feel hurt she drowned herself in her job and her charity work. Cyan knew she’d take him back in a minute if he showed up at her door. She missed him and the ache between her legs couldn’t be satisfied with a dildo or any amount of masturbation and fantasizing she could do. She went out to dinner with Nathan. He asked. She was lonely, and so ready to put Derian behind her. She didn’t want another man in her life, but Nathan sort of grew on her. He felt like a brother, a friend and a strong shoulder. He had a fascinating backstory of travels overseas. Adventures he gladly shared with her. He asked, “Do you 125

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suppose I could get you to write about my travel adventures. I’m no writer. You are. You could ghost write them for me and we could share the royalties if they ever sold.” She was more than a little flattered and she was tempted, as she knew there was a market for them. *** A month later she sub-let the apartment to a friend and packed her things. She couldn’t cope with the memories of Derian that were cooped up in that apartment, the nightmares and wet dreams it conjured up was more torture than she could endure. The memories by day and the nightmares by night were more than she had strength to deal with. First Sharee’s death, now Derian’s sudden disappearance left a hole in her life she didn’t know how to fill. She thought about safety and sameness and decided to run back to the green-eyed monster Jerome. There is safety in sameness, in knowing that you’ll always get what you always got. No surprises with Jerome and he had asked her more than once to come back. She could survive with the ugliness she had lived with but not with the new self-destruction she had seen in the black-eyed man she thought she wanted. Jerome was a safety net. No one could get to her through him. The blackness associated with all things dark and evil was the manipulative con artist Derian, who saved her from him and Jerome. In the end, both of those abusive relationships ended by Derian being himself. He had showed her she was able to take care of herself. He gave her strength and room to test it. She had wanted things to be different, she longed for the sex they had, and she wanted those dark eyes to glisten with lust for her again. Obviously that was not what Derian wanted. Somewhere in her dash for safety and security Cyan realized she didn’t need to put up with either of them. She could live on her own and enjoy it. She filed for a divorce from Jerome. It took months of crying, journaling and arguing with herself, working two jobs to survive and get her head on straight, before she knew she would be okay if Derian never came back. She had her own life and she was secure in it. She developed a new circle of friends that included the adventures of Nathan and she was invited to life vicariously by writing about them. *** Cyan found herself a small house on three acres of land with a small apple orchard on it. It was perfect for her. It had been six months since she had last seen Derian, when April Zee showed up at the office, her face clouded with grief. “Cyan, Derian is dead.” She sobbed. 126

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April was Derian’s younger sister. She still lived on the reservation with her mother even though she was in her early thirties. “What happened?” Cyan slid out from behind her desk and put her arms around April. “A gang thing. He went after Stone. He managed to kill him, but Stone’s gang beat him to death when they finally caught up with him. It was awful,” April cried into Cyan’s shoulder. Cyan didn’t know if she felt horror, grief or resolve. She expected the worst if Derian was going after Stone, but she figured the worst would be his being sent back to prison, not murder. “Where will it end April? Men don’t seem to understand that there is always one more person out there who will thinks they need to avenge the death, or the name of a friend. I am so sorry.” She tried to console April. She didn’t attend Derian’s funeral. Preferring instead to remember the whirlwind love affair they shared. She didn’t want to see the vision of those black eyes closed forever. She would keep those black eyes for her dreams when her black knight rescued her from a world of dead boring sameness and threw her into a passion-filled universe of emotional, sexual and spiritual satisfaction she never knew existed.

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Epilogue

Cyan sat at the kitchen table looking out over the apple orchard below. The blossoms looked like snow covering the branches. Humming birds darted between feeders and blossoms happily gorging themselves and celebrating the newness, the promise of spring. Spring always reminded her of Derian. The lessons she had learned from him gave her a strong sense of self. She no longer clung to anyone, no longer waited for someone else to make her happy, and no longer hid her sexuality. Derian with his reckless abandon, had taught her to live. She let the memories of the past drift away out of her mind. They served to remind her how lucky she was to be alive and to have found Nathan. Nathan with his quick humor and ready shoulder, he was a lifesaver for her more than once over this past year. Writing his travel tales, opened new worlds for her. She wanted to see Ireland, she said, and he promised to take her there. He offered to take her to all those places she wanted to go to, so she could feel the ambiance and what he was trying to tell her as she wrote his life from one continent to the next. It gave her hope that there was a bright future and he would be part of it. She closed her eyes and his faded chambray-blue eyes gazed at her in her mind, his gentle touch warmed her and she felt the juices of her womanhood creating a familiar dampness between her legs. She poured two cups of coffee, shed her bathrobe and walked naked into the bedroom. “Coffee, tea or me,” she cooed. The faded denim-eyed, sandy haired hunk greeted her with his intense smile. Nathan’s tanned body slid up to a sitting position in the blue satin sheets, his shaft rising to greet her, “You, of course,” he said.

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BIO

Logan Blue is new to the erotica romance venue, though she is not new to romance. Writing fiction, non-fiction and poetry she has published mystery, adventure, romantic suspense, and young adult novels under another name. She lives in Northern Wisconsin where her roots are deep and strong, and the winters are perfect for romantic evenings by the fireplace.

See more work by this author at, www.VenusPress.com

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