Unpredictable Love

  Laetitia crossed the room in awe, her hands touching the big leaves and exotic orchids, like the ones that could be found in the Amazon forest or in some places in Africa. “Do you have your bonsai here, too?”

  “Nae. I don’t come here as often as I should.” He took off his blazer, putting it on the back of a chair, and sat in one of the beautiful antique settees, patting the place beside him. He said gravely, “We need tae talk.”

  “If you are going to apologize or explain what happened earlier, then no, we don’t,” she stated as she sat on the divan, shed her pumps, and tucked her feet under her legs.

  “Then let’s talk about you,” he said. “You were afraid.”

  Toying with the hem of her long gown, she admitted, “I was, I won’t deny.”

  Something inside him withered hearing her confirming his fears. Dismay weighed down on him like the heaviest of burdens, and he kept motionless, because if he so much as twitched, he’d crack and crumble right there in front of her.

  “It—it was all of a sudden, Tavish Uilleam. The lightning, thunder—and then you threw yourself over me. I . . . I thought there was . . . well, something wrong happening.”

  “There was.” He hated the distance in his voice even as he embraced it. “I was the wrong there.”

  “Stop that!” She rose from the divan, unable to sit still another moment, and stood in front of him, putting her hands on his shoulders, gripping them hard and shaking him. “Stop that! You are not wrong, for God’s sake. If one has a health condition, one is not wrong. One is sick!”

  “As a former doctor, I must remind you sickness can kill,” he said quietly.

  Laetitia’s hands cupped his face, and her thumbs caressed his mouth, feeling the softness of its skin. “I won’t dispute it. But, Tavish Uilleam, did you stop to think you tried to protect me? At your own expense? Your first thought was to protect me.”

  He blinked, and it took him a moment to answer. “It was an uncontrolled reaction. I could have done a number of other things. I could have attacked you.”

  “You could have, but you didn’t. Even if it wasn’t a real danger condition, your protective reaction tells me much about you, about your character, your sentiments.” She sat sideways on his thigh, and one of her hands dipped in his hair. “I promise you, if I ever think I could be endangered by your attitudes, I’ll be the first to tell you. OK?”

  “Laetitia—”

  “No more Laetitias, Tavish Uilleam.” Her mouth brushed his, gently, letting her lips move over his slowly, with only enough pressure to make him feel her. Tavish had never known the corner of his mouth to be so sensitive, until she touched the spot with her tongue.

  Soft, so soft they were hardly touching, a mere caress.

  The kiss was not deep but sexual and intense.

  Again and again, she pressed her lips to his, then retreated, inviting him to reciprocate.

  This was different from any other kiss they had shared. A kiss with a newfound intimacy and trust. A steady bartering of caresses, licks, gentle nips.

  He felt as if she was not just teaching him another language but empowering him with the language of her own body. And he was forcing himself to reveal far more than he ought to, his lips showing her all the things that she didn’t let him voice, all the things he couldn’t ever voice.

  They hadn’t thoroughly talked—and he doubted they would ever—however, this kiss was a wholehearted conversation.

  “Tavish, I want you.” Her breathing became as ragged as her heartbeat. Winding her arms around his neck, she changed the angle of the kiss, taking over, while her hand unzipped his trousers, pulled out his member, and began stroking him firmly.

  Then, he finally stopped thinking and gave himself over to sensation. Blissful, all-consuming sensation.

  She pulled back and stood up, then lifted up her dress and pushed down her panties. Staring deep inside his eyes, she tugged on the band of his trousers. He raised his hips and helped her lower them.

  His ever-present lust for her turned into a rough hunger, when she knelt between his legs and, before taking him in her mouth, said, “Fuck my mouth.”

  What started slow became a vortex of pleasure.

  Blood pounded in his brain; he grabbed her face and thrust his hips. “Goddammit, Laetitia. Goddammit!”

  Her body sang along with her heart. She shivered, ached. She needed more. She needed him all.

  He lost all sense of himself while watching his hard erection disappear into the wet warmth of her mouth, and the sucking and little gagging sounds she made filled the room. She was branding him with the intensity of her flaring need and submission. With a last hard and deep plunge, he held her against him for a moment, before pulling out.

  When his hands started to take off her dress, she stopped him and climbed on his lap, rubbing his penis on her folds. “I need you inside me. I can’t wait.”

  “I have no con—”

  “It’s safe.” She lowered her hips just enough to let the broad head slip inside her.

  Her honeysuckle scent enveloped him, and he closed his eyes. With a powerful movement of his hips, he was half inside her. He growled, “Fuck. I love how tight you are.”

  “Yes!” she said. “Take me, Tavish.” Make me all yours.

  The words blazed through him, kindling his every nerve ending, like a fuse. He cupped her hips firmly in both hands and plunged deep and fast inside her until she was sitting flush against his groin. Against her exposed neck, he promised with another thrust, “I’m going to fuck you senseless.”

  She gasped at the fullness stretching her and arched her back, searching for the friction that would take her higher.

  He wanted what she was giving him.

  And she wanted more of him and his half smiles, more of his passionate caresses, more of his candor and seriousness.

  They wanted all the unimaginable pleasure, and all they were.

  He pounded into her with increasing intensity, feeling himself getting larger and harder. His fingers found her clitoris, pressing, pinching, and caressing in quick and repeated strokes.

  “Oh, my God.” The orgasmic tension bubbled up and jarred her into a delicious, intense sexual peak.

  She was so sexy with her head thrown back and rocking on him in abandon that he concentrated on keeping his climax at bay, stopping his thrusts, keeping just his fingers lightly teasing her as she kissed him on her way down from her high.

  Feeling him still hard inside her, she panted, “You didn’t come.”

  “Nae, because I am no’ done with you yet,” he whispered, pulling her dress off her and disengaging her bra. He laid her down on the divan and moved to kneel between her legs, putting them over his shoulders.

  Her body went completely rigid when she felt his breath on her sensitive, pulsing clitoris. Pulling at his hair, she whispered, “No.”

  “Stay put,” he ordered and put a hand between her breasts. A long, slow stroke of his tongue was followed by his flicking the tip over her clitoris and sucking it with his lips. “I am no’ even close tae finishing this.”

  “Ah,” she gasped and buckled at the new onslaught of desire, an overwhelming sensation making her wetter than she was before.

  “Aye, that’s the way,” he whispered, lapping at her swelling lips with passion. “Give me all your honey.”

  Laetitia could feel her pulse all over her body. He was driving her crazy with small flicks of his tongue and sharps pulls of his lips on her clitoris. She was drenching his middle finger, which kept teasing her entrance without dipping inside.

  Her stomach and buttock muscles clenched, and her inner walls spasmed to the point of pain, when his tongue buried into her and flicked nonstop. She couldn’t stop herself undulating on his face, couldn’t stop her hands from pulling his hair nor the loud moan that left her. “Oh, my God! Don’t stop. Right there, right there.”

  Tavish growled on her and increased the pressure and pace, kissing and sucking, and then he pr
essed his wet finger gently into her anus and bent it, upward.

  Her whole lower body contracted violently; her back arched and her legs went rigid on his shoulders. Her skin was prickling hot, her muscles so tight she was feeling pain.

  Laetitia looked up to the huge leaves towering over her, suddenly very aware how her loud, sharp intakes of breath competed with the water gurgling nearby, and the little beads of sweat coating her skin were as heavy as the humid air around them. She whimpered.

  “Relax,” he ordered, moving the digit up and down inside her, then pressuring deeper, then pulling out a bit. Just enough to make her feel how pleasurable it could be.

  The sensation became nearly unbearable when Tavish’s mouth began its assault once more.

  “Yeah, yeah!” A wave of lust enfolded her. She tilted her pelvis, seeking more of his mouth, and it was then his finger entered her completely, and he gyrated it inside, in and out, deeper, bending it again and again. “Oh, God!”

  Her body buckled under him, held only by his hand between her breasts, as waves and waves continued to hit her. She was riding the crescendo, when his mouth and finger left her.

  Her eyes popped open to see Tavish pulling her legs down against his chest, and she felt the engorged tip of his penis sliding in.

  Her little moans and gasps filled the room, getting louder as his long and heavy erection settled fully inside her quivering walls. She threw her arms back and held on the edges of the divan.

  “Ye are so fucking beautiful.” He had to take a deep breath not to come right then and there. He could barely move inside her, and yet he kept going, until he felt her little tremors turn to shakes, uncontrollable spasms massaging him. “Come, Laetitia.”

  “You’re killing me,” she gasped, looking up at him. His sea-greens were stormy; his lips thinned in a harsh line; his broad, muscled chest heaved. The arm between her breasts became heavier, while he pumped fast inside her. She shook her head, teetering on a thin line between the painful climbing, the primal urges needing to be fulfilled and the fear of the approaching free fall. “I can’t—I can’t take it anymore.”

  “Trust me, ye can.” He bent over her, pressing her legs down, adjusting the angle, hammering into her with no mercy. He brought his hand between them, deftly flicking her clitoris. “Let go, dammit! Let go!”

  “Stop, stop,” Laetitia yelled. Her eyes went wide. A rush zipped down through her spine, down to her pelvis—too many uncontrollable emotions hitting her at the same time. Her climax forked, all her nerves uncapped, and her body suspended midair, by her fully contracted muscles. And the world exploded in a million pieces around her. “I’m coming, I’m—”

  Eyes glued to the beautiful vision of Laetitia orgasming, Tavish groaned, delivering short, rapid plunges, feeling her coating him in heated essence. His fingers rubbed her until he pushed her past the point of no return, and he went along with her as she violently milked him, robbing him of every last bit of his come.

  Her eyes rolled back on her head, and a high-pitched scream broke from Laetitia’s mouth, electrifying the air around them.

  He watched amazed as her legs trembled and her hips flexed up, and she squirted over his abdomen. Hoarse, inarticulate cries leaving her at each jet showering him with her passion.

  Her hands pushed him away as the ecstasy became too intense, and she collapsed down on the divan, her body twisting as if in pain but with a blissful glow on her face.

  His arms came around her, carefully moving her and tucking her onto his chest, holding her as close to him as he possibly could, as the tremors subsided. “You are magical, Little Elf.”

  “We are wet,” she breathed shyly, against his neck.

  “You gifted me with the most beautiful orgasm I’ve ever seen,” he answered. He cupped her face in his hands, staring deep in her eyes. “It was perfect, Laetitia.”

  She sighed. His chocolate-oak scent surrounded her as she ensconced herself more comfortably next to his body. Her fingers lazily traced the hard muscles of his chest and abdomen and then following the lines of the breathing dragon.

  “Thank you, Little Elf,” he whispered against her hair. “Your trust is precious, and I will—”

  “Shh . . . You know what I’ve learned? Most people are like a leaf, letting themselves drift and turn in the air. Eventually, they fall to the ground. But, others—very few others—are like stars. They have light within themselves to be their own guide. Sometimes, we look at the sky and don’t see the stars, because there is too much light bedimming them. To find the stars again, we have to go to a dark place.”

  He rested his cheek on the top of her head. “Did you find your light?”

  “No, I have found my star, and,” she patted his chest, “it’s right here.”

  CHAPTER 41

  London

  Dr. Beatrice Cecil’s Office

  Wednesday, October 22, 2014

  6:57 a.m.

  “The weather is wretched,” Tavish said to Dr. Cecil as he hung his overcoat. He gave her a shopping bag before lying down. “For you.”

  She opened the bag and undid the bow wrapped around the square golden box. A perfumed scent filled the room. “Ah. You remembered the candle.”

  “Aye. You asked me to bring one last session,” he answered.

  She handed the candle to him. “What led you to think it was for me?”

  His lips twisted ruefully. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

  “You’re too intelligent to play this game, Tavish.” Dr. Cecil motioned to a small table between her armchair and the divan. There was a plain silver tray along with a matchbox.

  His lips thinned in anger; his shoulders squared back. “Is the game on me, Beatrice?”

  When they established their encounters, he had warned her his mind was a time bomb waiting to go off. She guffawed and stated that after being in the Falklands and the First Gulf War, she was not afraid of functioning minds but of brainwashed human bombs. They had been working together for five years, and in that moment, she knew he was spoiling for a confrontation; he was provoking her, expecting, demanding a reaction.

  “Never, Tavish.”

  In his meticulous way, he set the round golden candle in the middle of the silver tray and lay back down. After a moment, he asked, “Should I light it?”

  She chuckled softly. “If you wish.”

  “And if I don’t?”

  “If you don’t, you don’t, Lieutenant Colonel,” Dr. Cecil said wryly.

  “I won’t then.”

  Although his behavior could appear to be that of a petulant child or an aggressive man, it spoke of a deep resistance to plunge into his pains.

  “I’m not here to order you. Besides, you outrank me,” she lightly gibed, knowing he would react to her reminding him of his career. “A counsel, though. From doctor to doctor, from soldier to soldier. You are responsible for—”

  “Fuck you!” He flung his legs off the divan, faced her, and snarled. “Fucking presumptuous of you to judge me—”

  “Fuck me? You disappeared for more than a month! But came back and brought the candle. Not lighting it will take you nowhere,” she snapped back at him. It was not exactly the way she usually conducted her sessions. Dr. Cecil was soft-spoken, gentle, and patient. Yet, after many years dealing with veterans, she discovered the downright turndown was the way to get them to react. She looked at the clock and scribbled in her notebook. “Think about it—”

  “Wait!”

  She was going to end the session even though they had barely started.

  “Would you mind turning off the lights and closing the shutters?” He picked up the matches and lit the candle.

  “As long as you don’t shut yourself off,” she replied, smiling softly at him, before switching off the lights.

  “Here is my space, my time.” I can do in it whatever I want.

  “Here will always be your space,” she said gently. “Yet it is also mine.”

  He opened and closed his hands a
few times, relaxing. “I’m sorry.”

  “Why the darkness, if you don’t like it?”

  “I’ve brought it with me. The darkness in that cave, that foul stench, the dirtiness. Perhaps, if I face it . . .”

  “It’s a great step that you can see it so clearly. But we all bring something dark from war, and it doesn’t disappear easily—or at all.”

  “I know, Beatrice.” For a few minutes he watched the flame flicker.

  “Will this session be this choppy? Will I have to corkscrew the information from you?”

  “It’s . . . I found a different source of light. Pure as the first snow in a forest, which warns the world that it’s time to take shelter. Yet she sheds light during day, illuminating the path.”

  “That is enlightening.”

  He jammed all his fingers in his hair, in clear desperation. “I don’t know what to do. I am thoroughly confused.”

  “Confused how?” Dr. Cecil put her elbows on her knees. Tavish’s moods typically swung from sad to angry, from depressed to irritable, but seldom to confused. “Why don’t you start by telling me who she is?”

  The words had spilled from his mouth so easily and in such an orderly way that when he finished, Dr. Cecil was shaking her head. “You’re not confused. Not at all.”

  He laughed. “Nae?”

  “Welcome to the human world. You’re afraid, Lieutenant Colonel.” The candlelight was dim, but she could see him massaging his temples, as if it had hurt to say it all. “You simply don’t know how to deal with the fact that you can’t control everything.”

  “I know that.” Tavish looked at Dr. Cecil. “She is a . . . dream I dreamed once. And I am afraid to dream again.”

  “How miserable are we today, uh?” she scoffed, quipping the song with the book. “I thought one of your mottoes was ‘Freedom to dream’.”