Emma Bruce
THE LUSTY ZILOSECS, VOLUME 3: HEATH BY EMMA BRUCE Venus Press LLC
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Emma Bruce
THE LUSTY ZILOSECS, VOLUME 3: HEATH BY EMMA BRUCE Venus Press LLC
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The Lusty Zilosecs, Volume 3: HEATH
The scanning, uploading and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal, and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage the electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated. 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 LUSTY ZILOSECS, VOLUME 3: HEATH Copyright © 2006 by Emma Bruce ISBN: 1-59836-339-5 Cover Art © 2006 by Steve Cook 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. Printed and bound in the United States of America. For information, you can find us on the web at www.VenusPress.com
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Chapter One
Could there be a more perfect smile anywhere? Michelle London swiped a table with a wet rag and tried to appear nonchalant as she glanced back toward the bar and the gleaming wattage Heath Badman was throwing in someone’s direction. He was way out of her league and she knew it, accepted it, hated it, but it didn’t stop her from wishing. He was charming, she was shy. He was handsome, she was mousy. He scarcely knew she existed; he was almost all she thought about. He was a player; she lost her heart way too quickly in the game. “Some sexy,” her co-worker Elaine said over her shoulder as she unquestionably caught Michelle’s line of vision. “Who?” Michelle said as she turned back to swiping the table and picking up stray glasses left by skiers enjoying their weekend. “Heath Badman, that’s who. As if you didn’t know.” Michelle took a second to tighten her messy ponytail, hoping like hell she could regain her footing. It was common knowledge that Elaine and almost every other girl at The Chalet had visited Heath’s bed--every girl except her. “He’s too slick. I wouldn’t trust him.” Elaine cocked her head, her sassy black bob swinging. “Who needs to trust him? Boys like that are made for fucking. Forget the commitment. It’s not in his blood, but man oh man, what a ride…” Michelle felt the familiar stab of envy but attempted to thwart it. Heath Badman was an overtly sexual man and wasn’t that the very reason she was so attracted to him? So what if Elaine got closer than she ever would? Why not listen to the story, keep it for later and pull it out when she was alone in bed and the need was stronger than ever? “You work too hard, Michelle.” Elaine had followed her to the next table, but couldn’t seem to manage to pick up more than one glass at a time. 4
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Michelle snatched two crocks that’d held gooey chili thick with cheese just a few short minutes ago and slid them to the tray. “Why the hell aren’t the busboys around tonight?” Elaine asked, grabbing a rumpled napkin between thumb and forefinger. “The storm. The slopes are closing at ten tonight.” “Baloney. We’re a ski resort and they’re worried about a little snow?” They both looked up when their sixty-something manager, Kent, appeared, as always hurrying to cover his bald spot with a measly two strands of hair. “Either of you want to cut out early?” he asked. “Me, me, me!” Elaine, quick on the pass, said, bouncing up and down for emphasis. “I guess it’s you then, Elaine. Sorry, Michelle.” “It’s okay,” she said and for some strange reason meant it since the chance of the bar closing early was remote and Heath Badman would most likely be the last of the employees to check out. “Do you think your car will make it down the mountain in a few hours? We’re supposed to get walloped and it should be starting soon.” “Late season storms are always the worst,” Elaine said as she whipped off her apron and threw it to Michelle’s tray. “You can crash at my place. I’m closer,” she said to Michelle. “She’d still have to navigate the mountain. You’re welcome to stay in the staff room if you need to,” Kent said, glancing at his watch. “I’m heading out myself. You don’t mind closing up do you? There probably won’t be much of a crowd and Badman will still be at the bar.” Michelle’s heart did one of those little flips as she caught Elaine’s unmistakable smirk. “I’ll be fine.” “Good then. I’ll see you for the lunch crowd tomorrow.” “Goodnight,” Michelle called to her two co-workers, but they didn’t hold her attention for long since they both had to walk right past dreamy Heath Badman and that’s where her gaze stalled--right on the hunk behind the bar.
**** The wind turned ugly as it howled and whipped at the paned glass of The Chalet’s dining room. Heath glanced out at the swirling snow and tried to ignore the message it 5
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had been sending him all day. “Something is happening,” he kept hearing over and over again. It wasn’t hard for him to disregard it. He caught messages, innuendo, signs, all of the time and he’d learned long ago to only let in the morsels you welcomed and close out the rest. This one was no different, though it was a bit more persistent. He didn’t have the power to see what would be like his brother Colt could, and he couldn’t sense what it meant like his sister Cady, but he sure as shit could hear it and tonight he didn’t much feel like listening. The bar crowd had all but disappeared after one huge rush for Brandy Alexanders and Kailua and Cream. Now at close to two, he didn’t even have to announce last call. The only ones that lingered were himself and Michelle London, a demurely hot waitress that he couldn’t help but notice time and time again. She wasn’t his type--not even close--but her innocent smile, doe eyes and the figure he sensed was smoldering under her staid little tuxedo shirt, tie and apron made him ponder it longer than he generally would. He’d nailed most of the waitresses, maids; even the fifty-year-old hostess that gave impressive head despite her smoker’s wrinkled mouth and thirty years worth of baggage. She was too needy though, kept calling when he was more than ready to be through and after three weeks he’d had about enough. He reached into the head of a bread deliveryman who looked liked he could use some companionship and directed him Norma’s way. The two got married on New Year’s Eve and Heath poured champagne at the wedding. Life was simple if you just allowed it to be. He dried a glass to the squeaking point and hung it from a rack overhead just as a terrific slap of wind hit the pane. He saw Michelle jump as she bent to blow out a votive candle on a table nearby. “It’s okay. It’s just the wind,” he said. She looked so shy, barely meeting his eye. “I know. It just startled me.” “You can head out if you want. I’m almost done here and then I’m signing off too.” “I was just thinking I should go brush off my car.” Michelle walked to the window, grasped her arms and gazed out with a shiver. “It’ll take awhile to clear off in this.” 6
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“Where do you live?” “On the south side of town.” She threw a shy look his way. “Shit, you’ll never make it down the mountain in this weather. I’m sure it would be okay if you stayed in the staff room.” She turned to face him. “Actually Kent said the same thing, but I have a kitten and I’m not sure my roommate will think to feed her.” Heath smiled what he knew was a charming smile. “Kittens can be pretty demanding when they need to be. I’m sure your roommate will figure it out when the damned cat is swatting her toes. Or is the roommate a he?” He saw her blush. “No, it’s a she. You know her actually. It’s Mary-Lee. She’s the youth ski instructor.” He knew her. Knew she liked to be spanked and told she’d been a bad, bad girl. “Yeah, I know Mary-Lee.” “She mentioned that.” He rounded the bar, moved closer to where she stood. “She did, huh?” “Yes.” She didn’t look at him as she spoke, just stared out at the swirling night. “All nice stuff I’m sure.” And just as he caught a glimpse of her eyes, the lights flicked off and the rumbling heat hissed to a halt. Just the two of them and thick, cold darkness.
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Chapter Two
This couldn’t be happening. She couldn’t be stranded in a ski lodge with sexy Heath Badman. Could she? “Shit,” he muttered as he stumbled to grab the dish containing the last lit votive candle. He used it to navigate to the bar and snatch the phone. “Dead,” he said and then hung it back up. “Why do people always seem surprised when the phone is dead after the lights go out?” She shrugged and made her way to the light. “Too many scary movies, I suppose.” “I have a cell in my jacket, but that’s probably out too. I’ll go check though. You should probably follow me.” “What about the guests? What if one of them comes down?” “It’s late. They’re probably sleeping or at the very least preoccupied right now.” And then damn it, he smirked. “Come on,” he said and gestured with his shoulder. And what choice did she have but to follow? They lit another candle and each carried one through the kitchen and down the corridor to the staff room. Heath groped for the pine closet and found his leather jacket that Michelle had admired so many times when he’d fly in two seconds before his shift, covered with snow and the alluring smell of leather. He grappled in the pocket and pulled out a cell. “Shit, again. No signal. That probably means the whole town is without power since the transformer’s on the hill. Looks like we’re here for the night.” “I should still head home. My car has lights.” He shot a sly grin. “But your apartment doesn’t. We have a huge fireplace here and it’s probably a lot warmer than a walk-up with no heat source.” Her stomach flipped for the millionth time like it always did when he was near. “How do you know I have a walk up?” 8
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He looked up quickly, caught her eye, looked away. “I picked Mary-Lee up once and you said you were on the other side of town--mostly old houses with apartments upstairs.” “Oh, right.” “Come on,” he said, moving toward the huge fireplace that took up an entire wall. “Help me get this going.” They arranged logs from a nearby pile and then Heath carefully opened the damper. He took a newspaper, rolled it into a tight tube and dunked it into the meager flame of the candle that Michelle had set on a table. It took a few seconds, but then the logs snapped to life. He took a moment to admire his work and then tossed Michelle a blanket from the couch. “You can take the bed, I’ll take the couch.” It would be smarter to go home, to battle through the storm and then into her driveway and up the stairs leading to the cold apartment and take what comfort she could find in her kitten, Lily, and a high piling of quilts. But for some reason she moved to the bed, sat down and looked to the window when a particularly fierce gust of wind sounded. “I’m not tired,” she said and immediately regretted it. He smiled again, such an annoying habit, spread out a quilt, grabbed another for himself and motioned for her to join him. “There are marshmallows over there by the hot chocolate and I know Kent always has graham crackers in his desk. And…” His voice trailed as he reached back into his jacket and pulled out a Hershey bar. “I had a craving.” Man alive did she know about cravings. She craved him each and every day for almost two years now. She’d always been distant enough to keep it well in check, but this was way too dangerous for anyone’s good. “I should try to sleep.” “Why?” “Because it’s two a.m. and I have to be back to work at eleven in the morning.” “Technically you never left work so I think you’ll be pardoned if you’re a little late.” She just sat there, arms wrapped around herself, watching him watch her. “Come on. Tell me the story of your life. I’ll tell you mine and then we’ll both be tired.” And for some reason she found herself walking to him, taking the chocolate bar and plopping to the floor beneath the blanket he’d tossed her. 9
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**** This chick isn’t my type, he reminded himself. Not even close. Nothing about her from her naturally highlighted hair to the delicate sparkle in her eye coincided with the slick girls that usually squirmed their way into his jeans. He navigated through life by keeping cool. He wasn’t closed off like Colt had been before his Laura had melted him with her love, her body; their three beautiful babies that came three Octobers in a row now. Heath also hadn’t fought every urge to use a power bestowed on him eons ago through a thick combination of destiny and history. No, he’d used it when he needed to, thought fondly of it when he didn’t, and gave neither option much thought during the time in between. But when little Michelle London snuggled near him as he held the blanket high for easy access, he wondered if this wasn’t the very thing he’d been warned of all day? “I was raised right here,” she said as she got comfortable and their arms brushed. “Well, about five miles away in Campbell actually. My dad was a mechanic on these lifts, though he never learned to ski.” Michelle broke off a piece of chocolate and started to hand it to him but dropped it. Heath closed his eyes, swallowed and tried his damnedest to shift when she reached across him, grazing his chest to retrieve it. He opened his eyes just in time for her to hand the broken piece to him. “My brother skis, though,” she continued. “He went to the state qualifiers when he was eighteen, but blew out his knee two days before the race. He was the family star.” Heath shook the feeling off. “Where is he now?” he asked and hoped like hell she didn’t hear the crack in his voice worthy of a seventh grader. “He’s working at the mill. He’s married, unhappily I may add, with two little kids who are so misbehaved I can’t bring myself to visit more than a few times a year.” “That’s a sad story.” “It is.” “What about you? Is this your dream?” She sat up with this inviting, sassy, sexy smirk on her angelic face. “You figured me out! Waitressing in The Chalet restaurant at Placid Peak is my absolute dream!” For some stupid and shitty reason he touched her hair. “Then what is your dream?” 10
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If it made her uncomfortable she did a good job covering as she took a big swallow before continuing. “I want to sing.” “You want to sing?” “Mmm, hmm. Torch songs with a sparkly red dress and shiny lipstick.” She was fascinating. Not bold, pushy or even sure of herself and Heath heard it once again. Something is happening. Everything in the mortal part of him said Fight it. Everything that had ever banged around his soul and made him weak and tragic said, Run while you can and don’t ever look back. Or at the very least tell her you’re tired and offer once again to take the couch. But the side of him that was immortal--passionate, risk-taking, simply Zilosec-warmed to her, invited her near though it might be nothing more than a colossal mistake in the end. And which the hell one would win? He cleared his throat and got up quickly. “I never dug out those graham crackers.” Classic campfire treats had to be safer than the raging hard-on he could feel coming to life in his boxers. He moved to the desk, fumbled and pulled out what he was sure was a graham cracker box. “Found them,” he said wiggling the box in the air. Michelle squinted and her eyes met his. “I don’t think that’s a box of graham crackers.” Heath glanced down. Shit. The suggestive Truth or Dare game the waitresses had given Kent for his birthday last month. Apparently, he hadn’t felt like bringing it home to play with his plump wife Melinda. Heath cursed it again. Cursed his lack of Colt’s vision and the impeccable instinct that would’ve steered Cady around the glossy box of smut and right to the innocent graham crackers with a smiling bear staring back. But he damn well wouldn’t let Michelle London know he wished for something more, something less, something somewhere in between. He grabbed the crackers and carried both boxes to the fire. “Let’s see why Kent was embarrassed to bring this home.” Michelle shifted, but stayed cool as she dug into the box for a cellophane packet of crackers. 11
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His heart hadn’t pounded in years. Literally, not in fucking years. And had it ever pounded for a girl? Had it ever pounded for a set of eyes and a sloppy ponytail that was escaping from an innocent pink scrunchie? Hell no. But it sure was now. So far the only things that had ever rattled him were getting out, moving on, making sure he was happy all of the time and sad none of it. He worried for Colt some, but that was just until Laura had made her way into his soul and now Colt was the last guy worthy of any concern. Heath used to think about Cady, hope she’d find the contentment that she’d always wanted, though her formula had been so much more specific than her brothers’. She found it though. Found it in David Janello, a full Zilosec who knocked her off her feet with all the staid appeal of an accountant, but really was so much more. Heath questioned it when Cady decided to leave all she knew behind and venture into another realm to build a life with David, but when Heath saw her look at her husband--saw her fold up into him--he never worried again. She knew what she was doing to the tune of a beautiful baby girl born last Columbus Day and a peace that just oozed from her when he visited her in the outer realm. It’d been an uncomfortable, hellish ride, but well worth it when he saw his sister’s unabashed joy and saw David give it right back. So to sum it up to himself here and now, he only had worried, stammered, wondered when people he loved were involved. And he didn’t even know Michelle London.
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Chapter Three
Michelle watched him there, rummaging through game cards, raising his eyes every few moments and then looking away again. She couldn’t think about it. Couldn’t think about the irony of being stranded here with the deepest crush she ever had, so she set to work building s’mores instead. “We should’ve waited for the life ambition question. It’s in here,” he said, waving a card in the air. “It is?” “Yup.” And then Michelle had to smile as he re-read the hot pink card and then, though she couldn’t be sure in the firelight, she was quite certain he blushed. Michelle reached for the card and read aloud. “What is your deepest desire?” She looked to him. “I’m not sure that’s the same thing.” He snatched it back and re-filed it. She handed him a marshmallow she’d cooked at the end of an unused fireplace match and wiped her hands on her black pants. “Here, you eat, I’ll read.” He took the s’more and watched her ease the box from his muscular thigh. She shuffled through the cards and pulled a random one. “You have to answer, okay?” He grumphed and took a sticky bite. “Where is the strangest place you’ve ever ‘done the deed’?” He glanced up and suspended the s’more near his mouth. “It doesn’t actually say, ‘done the deed’?” “Yes, it does.” She displayed the card, he cocked his head and then shook it. She was beginning to enjoy this. Beginning to enjoy making him just a little uncomfortable because he’d 13
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made her uncomfortable every day of her life. She leaned back on her elbows and waited. “Are you going to answer? It doesn’t go any further than this room.” “I’d have to think about it.” She raised her eyebrows. “So there are that many unconventional places?” He stuffed his mouth full of the gooey s’more. “What about you?” he asked finally. “It’s not my question.” “Okay then, Miss Coy,” he reached over and grabbed a card. “Where did you lose your virginity?” “In the standard place.” He laughed. “I think it’s meant to be geographically, not physiologically.” “Right here. At this ski lodge.” “Right here?” “Yes.” “Here, here?” “Not here, here, but here.” “Where here?” “In the control room. I had a wicked crush on the operator and…” “How old were you?” “That’s not part of the question, sir.” She cleared her throat and grabbed another card. “Do you pass on your first question?” “What first question?” “The one about the strangest--” “On a bicycle.” “How the hell do you do it on a bicycle?” “Very carefully.” “How old were you?’ And he smiled that sly smile that had somehow returned. “Uh, uh. That’s not part of the question.” “Okay then.” She looked down at the card she held. “If you are a male, how long is your penis, if you are a female, how long is the longest you’ve accommodated.” “It does not say accommodated!” 14
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“It does, look,” she held it out and her heart slammed her chest wall when he grabbed her wrist to better view it. They both froze. Could he be sensing something raging and wild right here in this room just as she was? He held it a minute. Just held it firm and steady and then released her. “I don’t think I want to play anymore.” “Fine.” She re-filed the card and closed the box. “Do you want another s’more?” “No.” “Do you want to sleep?” “No.” “Then what do you want?” He leaned back, cradled his head in his hands, the waves of his sexy, sandy hair getting tousled in the process. “Heath?” “Hmm.” “Did I do something to offend you?” He faced her. “No, you didn’t offend me. I’m not even sure I’m capable of being offended.” “That’s a nice quality to have.” “Maybe.” “I guess I’ll try to sleep now then. Thanks for thinking of the s’mores. They were good.” She attempted to get up and realized he wasn’t covered. “Is there another blanket?” “No.” “Well, it’s too cold not have one. We can share,” she said as she lifted the corner of the Native American print his way. He met her eyes, held her stare. “No.” “Come on, it’s cold.” He rolled to his side, but his look wasn’t warm and friendly. Not even close. “I said no.” “Okay.” Michelle lowered the blanket, turned her back to him and tried to fight the annoying tear she could feel brewing. He was awful. Even this cheery, sexy bartender 15
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who was as easy going and slick as the ice he dispensed in a tinkling tumbler sported a dark side. She bit her lip, closed her eyes and wished she were callous enough to leave him without a blanket and just settle herself in the bed.
**** He could smell her. He could actually, fucking smell her. He always feared he possessed it--the ability to know with assurance that your missing half was right there-but he never gave it much thought or creed. He’d fucked so many girls. Given he’d now been single for two years longer than Colt had been, he’d probably had even more than his legendary big brother. But he’d never hardened to the scent before. Wildflowers, vanilla and that inborn clawing urge to mate. Christ he didn’t trust himself to so much as take a corner of the damn blanket even though the mortal part of him was shivering as much as the next guy. No, the thing to do was turn, close his eyes, go to sleep and beef up his resume in the morning. And then he snickered at the irony as he looked up to the out of commission tract lighting. What resume? He’d spent his adult life wandering. Finding work where he could, fucking his way through many a small town, beach community and ski resort. He’d changed the oil in cars, taught tourists to surf, flamed sea bass to perfection on a state of the art grill as well as poured many, many a drink in almost ten years of wandering. He played it safe during the solstice, whipping out condoms as if he had conviction or avoiding the opposite sex all together for four weeks while he regrouped. That was often the time he left, moved on, rolled down the road. He’d felt the stirring this year, felt the time had come to make a move, but for the first time in his life he’d ignored it. Why the hell had he done that? He closed his eyes and heard his mother’s voice. Colt saw, Cady felt, but Heath always heard it. “You’re the most powerful of all, my baby boy.” “Fuck!” he said out loud though he hadn’t meant to. “What?” Michelle asked over her shoulder. “Nothing.” 16
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“Heath, what is wrong?” She sat up, that alluring scent drifting to him, making him insane with wanting. And where was the danger in wanting? He’d wanted before, though admittedly not in this particular way, but he’d wanted. He’d taken, he’d felt fulfilled and all was well. He could fuck Michelle--mere instinct told him he’d be successful if he tried--and then he could roll on down the road as he’d sensed it was time to anyway. What the fuck. “I don’t want to sleep and I don’t want to play games. What I want is to fuck you and I don’t know how you feel about that.” There. He’d said it. She’d flipped to her back now, held the blanket to her chin and just looked at him. “What would it mean tomorrow?” He shrugged and shook his head at the same time. “Truthfully, and I want to be truthful here, nothing. I don’t know how much longer I’ll be working here anyway. I understand if you can’t live with those terms.” She waited just a beat and then her eyes softened, surprising him. “I can live with them.” She lifted up the blanket to invite him in.
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Chapter Four
She’d heard girls talk of it, talk of the smooth alluring ride he’d treated them to. Michelle was well aware that he was known to stroke hair, nibble nipples, kiss with fascinating captivation. He spent time gently licking clits and slid fingers in one by one to bait his lover into complete submission. He enjoyed a blowjob, but didn’t demand it with his cock that was long, fat and uncircumcised, creating the perfect tight fit no matter the experience level of his partner. So fascinating he was, that the stories always came back to her, circling with their similarity and accuracy. But she’d never heard of this--heard of him practically tackling a partner as he did her. He tore at her clothes as his stubble of beard rasped against her skin and awakened all her senses. His kisses were hard, demanding, his tongue probing and determined as it entered her mouth. There was no sweetness, but she relished it somehow. Relished being taken because she sensed that’s what this was--a taking for him with little regard for her. And she loved it. One of her hands clawed his strong back while the other worked to free the buttons of his shirt. Neither had much luck as a need grew within her, too. He paused for a moment to tear the shirt from his chest. Buttons flew to all sides of the room. As he rose above her, the shirt in tatters around his strong frame, she raised to capture his nipple between her lips. She battered it with her tongue, scraped it with her teeth and then sucked. He yelped, swore, fell to her, only to roll so she was above him as she continued working at the helpless bud. “Shit!” he yelled as she switched sides and set to work on the other. His hands harshly tugged the ponytail ring from her hair and she felt her mousy brown locks fall down around her shoulders. “You’re beautiful,” he moaned and she shook her head with his tender nipple still between her lips. 18
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He lifted her, framed her face with is hands. “You are.” He glanced down then and smiled. Her breasts were bigger than they appeared when pushed down and firm under her standard issue blouse and apron. Heath was obviously pleasantly surprised by the knowledge. “What were you hiding there, Michelle?” “These,” she said shifting over him to balance on her elbow as she lifted her breasts for his viewing. His jaw dropped, his eyes clenched, he arched his back as he grasped her arms, lifting her off of him and holding her suspended above. She could hear his breathing, feel the manic vibration of his heart as he groaned, grimaced, and obviously came as she bore witness. “Christ!” he screamed when it ended and he loosened his grip on her. She fell to his side. “I’m sorry.” His breath came in panting short spurts. “I’ve never done that before. I mean never! I’ve never--” “Prematurely ejaculated.” He closed his eyes, laid his head back, obviously attempting to regain his breathing and dignity. “I am sorry.” She glanced around for her shirt and felt a stab of disappointment knowing that she’d never ride this train to the end. This lover was more like a sixteen-year-old schoolboy than the suave and secure Casanova she’d heard tell. “What are you doing?” he asked with one eye open. “I’m getting dressed. It’s too cold to sleep without clothes.” “I just need a second, Michelle.” “Go to sleep, Heath,” she said as she pulled her blouse over her shoulders. But he wasn’t having it. He snaked out a hand and grabbed her arm before she could pull the blouse completely down over her head and her hair was still stuffed inside the shirt “I don’t know what just happened. I’ve never lost my load. Not even when I was a kid. I was just completely overwhelmed by you. And when you lifted your tits… I’m sorry, Michelle. But hang on a second. I’m a three-time-a-night guy so let me give you two of them.” 19
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She was too selfish--too greedy--to refuse, though that’s clearly what she should do. She should tell all the wait staff and housekeepers that Heath Badman came way too soon in the game and she wasn’t quite sure what they’d been raving about. But the sad truth was she didn’t even care. The knowledge that something in her had made him lose his ultra smooth cool turned her on incredibly. It was almost like she had a sort of power. “Okay, then. What next?” “You. You’re next.” He rolled her beneath him, eased the shirt from its tangled place and took every bit of her in.
**** He thought of words like splendor and glory. Thought of all the things his mother had ever cooed about and he’d never quite believed. When Colt had smashed headfirst into love, Heath had questioned it some. But seeing Michelle here like this beneath him, he came closer to understanding what he hadn’t before. If it was proof he sought, he was dangerously close to believing now. He ran his hand along the smoothness of her skin, down her cheek, her neck, her ribs. “I don’t even know where to start.” And she smiled a comforting smile. “I hate to tell you this, but you’re somewhat of a legend around here. No one ever mentioned that you’re shy.” “That’s just it. I’m not. I’m not shy at all, but something is different, something about having you in my arms.” “I’m just a girl.” And that was precisely the problem. “I have to tell you something.” She tilted her head. “What?” “I don’t say this often. In fact I’m not sure I’ve ever actually said it before.” “What is it, Heath?” “I’m not totally human.” She smiled and he thought he detected a laugh brewing beneath. “I’m serious. I’m a Zilosec. My father is mortal; my mother is from another realm and has all sorts of power. I have it too, use it when I need to, forget about it when I don’t.” 20
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She tried to sit up, but he caught her. She quickly squirmed away. “I don’t think this is funny. If you don’t want to go through with this just say so. There’s no need to make up something so outlandish--” “It’s not outlandish and it’s one hundred percent true.” She shook her head, obviously still thinking that either he’d lost it or had invented the smarmiest pickup line in history. “I can prove it, Michelle.” “Then prove it, Heath. Because right now I’m thinking you’ve bypassed quirky and smashed straight into deranged.” “And what sensible person wouldn’t?” He hadn’t done it since he was a kid, had never felt the need to prove his point, but he needed to now. “Come here,” he said as he swiped her near. “Kiss me.” She tried to wriggle free, but he pulled her close, kissed her deep and true with that punch to his gut vibrating. And he heard it all. He reached way in, far beyond the waitressing and the steadfast responsibility she’d always exuded, straight into what she thought, how she felt. He heard it all like a story being read to a tentative five-year-old. It was so powerful, so real, he was jarred and scared and exhilarated all at the same time. When he finally tore away to see her mouth bruised and wet from his kisses with her eyes round and scared and confused, he gently reached up to touch her hair. “Your best day was sixth grade and Mrs. Sheldon announced that you won the Memorial Day essay contest. You read your poem in the park and then rode in the American Legion car down Main Street. After the parade, you got to bring three friends to the Ice Cream Emporium and you ordered triple scoops. Yours were strawberry, mint chocolate chip and cookies and cream. “Your worst day was years later. You were driving to the Community College downtown and saw a pickup plow into a minivan. You knew before you even got out that the mother and baby were gone. You called 911 and stood by the van until the paramedics arrived and you’ve put daisies on those two graves every Tuesday since.” Heath really looked at her then, tears in those eyes, so heavy and blurry and sad, yet there was something else too. There was trust there that he’d never seen before in all his years of living. “That’s incredible.” He nodded, leaned close and kissed the tip of her perfect turned up nose. 21
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“Why tell me this now?” she asked. “Because along with having some mighty fierce capabilities, we’re a lustful lot and I don’t want to hurt you. I’ve never felt the way I feel tonight--ever--and I don’t know what it means.” “Are you warning me?” “Maybe.” “This is a lot to digest, Heath.” “I know it is, and I didn’t expect this either, but I can’t tell you how much I need to touch you.” She paused for the slightest moment, studied him close and then pulled him into the most seductive kiss he’d ever experienced. And he felt it from his heart to his cock to his soul. There was no more time. Not a moment more to waste. His hands roamed her body while hers roamed his right back. They kissed again--fiery and wild--as the annoying words grew louder, something is happening. He found her nipples, trailed his fingertips over each while she shivered in his arms. He bent then to use his mouth on the silky, pink flesh. He battered the tip with his tongue, working first one and then the other. “Oh!” she cooed in his arms as he captured a tender bud between his teeth. As his mouth tended her beautiful breasts, his hands got busy, trailing to the spot below that called to him. Soft curls invited him in and instinctively she shifted to give him unobstructed access. She was so damn wet, dripping actually, and his hand swam through it to find the heart of her. He knew how to do this--had figured it out long ago-but that was marred or forgotten somehow as he thrust three long thick fingers deep into her with little preparation. “Ah!” she cried out, but he didn’t relent, curled them inside, flipped his wrist back to find the washboard ripples of that special spot. His mouth devoured, nibbled, licked, sucked and her hips started a rolling, gyrating beat against him. “Heath!” He released the nipple, only to move lower with his kisses. “I feel so…” “So?” he said between kisses on her flat, hard stomach. “So!” 22
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His fingers plunged into her, an intense pattern of in and out. She squirmed, cried, prayed. He had no choice but to taste her, this ripe little thing that liked it way more than he ever would have guessed. He found her clit, so hard and large and pink. He sucked it in, held it between his teeth and released it to batter with his tongue. She pulled herself up, clawed at his back, groaned the sexiest primal groan he’d ever heard. “I don’t think I can take this. It’s too much,” she murmured. He paused and though it cost him, he raised himself up to look at her dainty, sexy beauty--two traits that were rarely found hand in hand, but damn if it wasn’t all there wrapped up in her. “Why don’t you sing? Why don’t you leave here and go to New York or LA? Why stay in Vermont waitressing for rent money?” She caught his face, pulled him near and kissed him. She tasted herself he assumed, but she seemed undaunted as her tongue plunged before she hoisted away. “You’re an idiot.” “I am?” “Yes, you are. I stayed in Vermont because you’re in Vermont, you jerk.” And his heart thudded in his chest as the wind whipped and the voice swirled. Something is happening. But his time he heard more. And you can’t control it, Heath.
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Chapter Five
Had she just admitted all she’d vowed not to? He looked so dazed, staring in wonder as she grasped his face. Yup, she’d said it all right. But just as suddenly all of her apprehension dissolved as she lunged, pushed him back, and tackled. She covered his face in a web of kisses, moved lower to nurse that tender nipple once again. He groaned and she kept going until she reached the waistband of his Dockers. She immediately threw his belt opened, cranked down his zipper and dug. He wore boxers….light as air and a soft shade of blue. Beneath them however the innocence suddenly slipped away. He was long, thick, hard, hungry and wet from her seduction of minutes before. “Heath,” she murmured and was answered with a satisfied moan as she tugged at him. He thrashed against the rug and she wondered briefly why they were still here, on the floor, and not the soft bed that waited across the room. But her answer came just as quickly. They were here because moving, stopping, pausing for even the slightest second wasn’t an option. He caught her face, steadied her. “Have you really thought about me?” And there was no use denying it. Not when he was powerful and real and not quite human. She’d always sensed there was more to him--something different, something bigger--but now she had her proof. “I thought you were immortal? Can’t you tell?” “Half immortal and no, I don’t see. My brother does. I don’t sense. My sister does.” “So what are your powers then, Badman?” He smirked that charming, devilish smirk. “I hear. I feel. I know.” 24
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It was all so important now. So heavy. Nowhere even near casual. “And I’m a helluva lay,” he added, flashing a sly grin. She lost all control she’d been able to harvest. It was lost in the overwhelming power of right now, just now. She grabbed for him again and he instinctively lay back as she swallowed what she could of his massive shaft and fondled the rest. He cried out and the loss of his well-honed control fascinated her as she sucked the head of his cock, running her tongue along the bumpy ridge where the foreskin attached. “What do you feel, Heath? What do you know?” she asked during the smallest pause. “Oh, God!” he groaned as his hips gyrated. She tended to him, tasted the salty metal of his earlier ejaculation, and wished she’d been there to catch it as he fired. She kept up her suction, kept up her little game of tugging and licking and wanting. Long minutes passed. Minutes of wind and sighs and flavor. “Stop,” Heath muttered finally and she was too weak and overcome to argue. She moved away, her mouth swollen with the remnants of his thrusts and panting. “I need you,” he sputtered. He touched her cheek and she covered his hand with her own. “What? Where? What’s happening, Heath?” He shook his head, bit his lip and adjusted cautiously before looking back to her. “Damned if I know, but all day I’ve heard it. All day something has been telling me that something was going to happen. I ignored it, fought it, hoped I wasn’t needed somewhere else to save a life, locate a kid or fix whatever the fuck was broken.” “Then what is happening?” “I don’t know,” he whispered and shook his head. She felt his hands trail down her hair, her neck, all the way to her chest. He suspended her above him as he fingered her nipple, then slunk down to catch it in his mouth. He sucked and a feeling rose in the pit of her. A feeling that had always been there, though she’d never welcomed it until this very moment. He kissed his way south, pausing again at her silky curls and then used his fingers to spread her. His tongue was practiced and perfect as it entered her. He flipped her to her back while he feasted. Her hands ran through her hair, her back arched as she felt it deeper now-brewing, percolating into something so much more. 25
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“I have to have you!” she shouted and felt embarrassed, but not enough to care as he continued his glorious assault. “Hang on, baby. Just hang on.” His tongue had picked up a magnificent rhythm; his fingers plunged in time. “Sing for me, Michelle. Let me hear you sing.” She grasped at the blanket that now covered no more than her legs, but it wasn’t strong enough to stay with her and fight this overwhelming feeling taking mighty control. “Come on, Michelle.” Heath stopped licking, stilled his fingers and looked into her eyes. “Let me hear you sing.” It spiraled into her then, an orgasm that had more to do with love than with physical pleasure. She cried out, grappled for him, for contact with his flesh and his blood as her nails dove into his shoulder. He licked her through it as she rode his fingers and shuddered around them before all was said and done and he gently pulled away. He lay beside her, giving her just a moment to calm herself, rubbing her back, stroking her hair, placing a chaste kiss on her lips. And she couldn’t have it. She couldn’t have the tenderness when love was beating so close to the door. She grasped hold of his hard manhood, squeezed, watched his eyes turn glassy before he snatched her from the floor and hurled her to the bed. She knew what would follow--what had to follow--and what little sense she had kicked in long enough for her to ask him what she needed to know. “Do you have a condom?” “No,” he panted as he worked to completely pull his pants from his sexy strong legs. “Oh, Heath.” She fell back, her head making instant contact with the downy pillow. “That’s not what I wanted to hear.” “I don’t need it. I’ll explain it all later, after it ends.” He rolled on top of her. “When it’s over.” “But--” But he placed his finger over her lips and shook his head. “I promise you it’s all right.” “Okay,” she found herself saying. “Okay.”
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He was melting. Melting by the light of the crackling fire as this girl stared up at him--so trusting, so pure. He wasn’t her first, but he felt as if he could’ve been. As if he could very possibly have been there when the deed was done and she’d needed someone to clutch tight as she whimpered. She was here now; her beautiful body there beneath him, offering all he cared to take and with it came a vision like Colt would’ve had; but not of the past or the present. This was a glimpse of the future. Heath felt it more than saw as his brain sent images of Michelle snuggled close to him on a crisp autumn night, stroking his cock, begging him for her own release as their baby kicked inside of her. “What the hell is going on?” he said out loud, shot up from the bed, dragged his fingers through his hair and tried like hell to find his sea legs. “What is it, Heath?” she asked, hoisting to her elbows. “I can’t do this.” “You’re serious?” “I can’t do this.” He sat down on the edge of the bed. “It’s out of control.” The coward in him wanted to run, wanted to cut his losses before his heart was truly lost in the high stakes game. But as he turned to look at her--hurt and confused--it hit him hard and heavy that he’d already lost it a while ago now. A brief second of fear flashed across her face, but she softened then, trusting him when he wasn’t all that sure he was trustworthy. “But I can’t not do it either,” he whispered in her ear as he nudged her and lifted her long shapely leg in his hand. He eased her all the way down with his fingertips against her chest and she pliantly surrendered as he rolled above, still clutching her leg. “I’m going to penetrate you,” he said and he was pretty sure she cooed. “With what?” she murmured in the middle of sweet kisses. “With my cock.” “Oh Lord,” she groaned as he slid his hand down the creaminess of her leg. He released it finally, but only to position himself so the very tip of him made contact with that buttery part of her. And then he pushed. He slid in easily and she cried out and then sighed, loosening every muscle in her body to help accommodate the intrusion of him. “Penetration,” she whispered. 27
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“Impale,” he whispered back as he started the rhythm that crawled out of him, thrust into her. She clawed at him, wrapped her legs around his ass and held him in. “Fuck,” she muttered and he had to smile. “I’ve never felt anything like this! Not ever!” She stopped her greedy pumping and grasped his shoulders. “Is it because you’re other-worldly?” He shrugged, nipped her lip, slid his hands to her tits and pulled gently at her long, beaded nipples. “I don’t know. But my guess is it’s because for the first time in my life I know what’s right. What I need.” Her eyes softened, widened and tears puddled. “Do you mean me?” “Yeah, I mean you.” He couldn’t talk anymore; he flipped so she was on him, riding him as she began her heavenly sinful gyrations. Her hands lifted her hair, she chewed her lip, closed her eyes, bounced on him while she moaned and he felt a lightning streak in his shaft. “Shit!” he cried out and she laughed at the power she had. “Come on, Heath. Fuck me good. You’re so big, so strong, so hard. Give it to me and we’ll sort it out later.” “I’m going to come. I can’t help it.” That he couldn’t hold off now made the reality all the harsher. “No you don’t!” she said as she raised herself off of the deep long shaft and dismounted. The cold air snapped at his dick that ached to be buried in her warmth once again. She leaned down, kissed him, lifted her breast to his mouth for a decadent suck. He took to it like a child with his mother and actually whimpered when she moved away. “You’ve got a mean streak, Michelle.” But she shook her head. “No, not mean, just so needy.” “Then let me give it to you.” “First, you.” Her words confused him, as did her quick movements to ease him back, kiss his torso as she trailed her silky fingers along his flesh. He felt it again, heard the swirly sounds of a voice, but lost in the feeling--in the moment--he didn’t even care. Let it talk, taunt, tease. All that mattered in the whole fucking universe--here and beyond--was what she was doing to him, on him, for him. In him. 28
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He watched her lift slightly and plunge two fingers into the deep core of herself. She ground on them, leaned forward to feel more he assumed and then pulled them out, wet, almost dripping. “Mmm,” he groaned, dying to taste, to feel that warmth in his mouth and then swallow it so she would truly be inside of him. But she had other plans. The fingers trailed, stroking his cock, but not pausing in their journey. Just as suddenly they were there, tracing the tiny hole of his ass. His instinct was to pull away, but she shook her head, then looked bashful. “I don’t want to sing, Heath,” she said as her finger teased him, her other hand played with his rigid cock and her voice whispered. “Not unless it’s here, with you watching me from across the bar.” He tried to swallow, tried to fucking breathe, as her hand left his cock, stroked his forehead as if she were checking for fever. “Trust me,” she cooed and then he felt her two long, slender fingers enter him. He arched his back, bucked, but she soothed him by running her hand through the dampness of his hair. “Just let yourself feel it, baby,” she murmured. He’d been part of threesomes--once he’d even let a guy’s hand rest on his ass while he pumped a squealing girl full of his cream--but there was nothing in him that had ever cried out for penetration. Until Michelle’s sexy fingers started to dance. “Fuck!” he moaned, hoisted up, tried to see, but his rigid cock blocked his view. “More, Heath. Tell me more!” She grasped his dick hard and mighty and tugged in time to her fingers’ song. “I--” “Can’t talk?” His head fell back, his eyes closed, his heart soared like a Mach One when she touched something deep inside and tickled it. He knew he was yelling, crying really, stammering sounds and words and groans. “Your prostate,” she said as she massaged it. “Nice, huh?” “Fuck!” “I saw it in a gay porno movie that Mary-Lee and her new boyfriend rented for fun.” 29
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“Shit!” He would die soon. There was no question the only thing that could follow this battering of his body--his desire, his heart--was sheer sudden death. But she wasn’t having it. He forced his eyes to stay open, to watch and learn and remember as she alternated between plunging into him and the strong rubdown of the gland. His cock twitched and throbbed and she noticed with a giggle, leaning near to teasingly give the dripping head a soft lick. “I’m losing it, Michelle,” he groaned, begging for relief, hating himself for wanting it. “No!” she cried and just as suddenly she left him, left a tingle deep inside that beat all the way through his cock to the souls of his feet. “I want it all!” She lunged, mounted him and then, goddamn, she rode. “Fuck me, Heath. Never stop.” It was her moment, her control that he eagerly surrendered to and would surrender to for the rest of his life. He pulled her near, kissed her, chewed her tongue, let his saliva mix with hers. “I love you,” he muttered. “I’ve always loved you,” she panted back. “This is it, Michelle. This is forever. I know it. I feel it.” Her eyes were closed in glorious concentration as she rode his stiff and hungry log. Something’s happening, he heard and laughed at it this time. Laughed because the warning couldn’t begin to make way for the desire. “Come on, baby, sing for me.” He grasped her nipples, scratched, pinched, then rubbed. That did it, sent her crying his name, falling to his chest and grinding out a mind boggling come that echoed through room, silencing the wind, forcing back the snow, fighting off the cold as he returned the favor and branded her with his hot and steaming seed. She felt it, he could tell as she fell still and limp over him, whimpered as he came in hot spurts that Zilosecs were known for. It continued to fill her and still he wasn’t through marking her as she had marked him. Forever. For always. For sure. 30
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He finished with a moan and a tear in each eye and was damn proud when he managed to hoist the blanket to cover them both. He stroked her back, willed her heart to settle. “You’re mine now. Forever. Neither one of us can change it.” She lifted her head, the innocence still there but hidden and sated now with unequivocal ecstasy. “And I wouldn’t have it any other way,” she whispered before she lowered to catch his tender nipple between her teeth. It started again--that fast, crazy, terrifying, electrifying sizzle. Her mouth had the power to captivate him, her fingers the ability to tease, her soul the roadmap that could lead him home. He writhed and let her work her magic, though he was the one that should’ve been casting the spell. He felt her there in him for the rest of time; thick and thin, mortal and Zilosec and everything else they could ever hope to be. She moved down now, covered his flaccid cock with her hot mouth and though it was tired and sore and way overworked, it immediately jumped to attention. He laid back, trailed her hair and felt a smirk on his lips. “You sure you don’t want to sing, Michelle? You’ve got great tonsils.” She ripped from him, left his young erection bobbling in the breeze. “Only for you, Badman. But I would like that red dress. Shimmery, glittery…” He grabbed her neck, tugged her down, kissed her like he’d never stop and then came up for air. “We’ll special order it, make sure it has little nipple holes so I can get a lick off whenever I damn well please.” She groaned an ecstatic groan and pulled the blanket over both their heads, shielding them from all but each other. “Sounds like a plan,” she murmured as she sunk below to tend to her business once again.
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About the Author
Emma Bruce has been writing sizzly romance for three years. THE LUSTY ZILOSECS marks her first turn at crafting a sexy series! When not busy steaming up her office windows, she's at home in Upstate New York with her husband and three children. Also available from Emma Bruce at Venus Press… The Lusty Zilosecs, Volume 1: COLT The Lusty Zilosecs, Volume 2: CADY
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