of her apartment behind her and fell against it, panting. Hints of her shot of Jerry and her Lucy chaser lingered on her lips. She could feel her insides pulse in remembrance of twin touches, each inducing an intolerable heat within her in a slightly different, but no less promising way. She couldn’t recall having been so utterly frustrated since college, when she pined over a blonde-haired Adonis on the swim team whose Speedos ended up on the floor of one of the other diver’s bedroom. The difference between her pimply-faced twenty something self and her crest-of-thirty doppelganger, however, was that Riona no longer let fate and other’s sexual orientation determine when she would or wouldn’t be satisfied. The only question was by whom, or in failure of that, by what. If Lucy had to go, it was a bummer, but not the end of the world. There were other ways to get to the place her body was aching to be.
She couldn’t recall dropping her purse on the dining table, kicking her shoes off in the middle of the living room, or stripping off her clothes at the side of her bed. The queen bed might be lonely with just one, but it still made the perfect landing pad for her nude figure.
Her suspicion was right, she was wetter than Miami in a hurricane. Her fingers nimbly found the most sensitive spot and took to arms. Images of Jerry’s borrowed, buff body interchanged with visions of Lucy’s pert breasts and pouty lips. Her hand worked in place of their attention, bringing her nearly to, but not quite able to arrive at, ultimate pleasure. Letting her other hand pinch at her nipples only served to mock her body. It was like being a person dying of thirst, who got thrown into a mountain stream with her mouth sewn shut.
Then, her mind’s eye shifted, conjuring up an image of brown, wavy hair and steel-black eyes, staring up at her from below as a sinfully-talented tongue licked at her, his stiff, starched collar brushing the inside of her thigh.
It was all she needed. In an instant, Riona crested, and couldn’t stop herself from calling out the name of her ghost-rider.
“Marc! Yes, yes, Marc! Maaaahhh…. ungh!”
She rode out the waves of bliss as the image melted from her consciousness and the warmth from her body. From heights to depths, the realization swept through her.
Marc.
Of all people, the only one she couldn’t have. How many times had she let that idea play out in her mind only to end at the same ultimate conclusion: there wasn’t a snowball’s chance in hell, and not just because he was a priest. No matter what Dee said, Riona didn’t see the so-called “feelings” the demigod claimed the man of the cloth held for her. Half the time, Marc was a complete ass, and the other half of the time, when he did trip over compassion, it was only for the purpose of advancing her understanding of magic so they were more successful in the battle against evil. Surely a man such as he, who had never tasted the pleasures of the flesh, couldn’t help but get all hot under the pressed, white collar with someone like her around. But that was just biology; it didn’t mean anything more than he was a certifiable, human male. And no matter what it was that was going on between them, Riona was in no way interested in reenacting The Thornbirds. That little tale certainly did not end well, and a relationship with Marc wouldn’t either.
With a devilish smile, her fingers ghosted over her breast and back towards her core.
Well, what she needed was only biological too. There was nothing wrong with daydreaming about a hot guy performing all sorts of unholy sacraments on her, even if he was a priest…
“Would… this… be a bad time for a visit?”
“Holy shit!”
Cars in the the Indy 500 didn’t achieve the speed with which Riona pulled her sheets up over her glistening body and slammed back against the headboard. Ramiel never claimed to be the perfect house guest, but he usually had the decency to show up while she was both clothed and non-post-orgasmic.
“I’m going to take that as a no.” Ramiel’s lips pursed as he used her dresser for a bench. “But since I’m already here, let’s just pretend you said yes and get on with it.”
“GET OUT!” she demanded, hurling a pillow his direction.
He caught it out of the air with ease,