Andrew Cleese and Ms Lyon Read online

  "Oh." A little pang of disappointment arrowed down to a personal spot on Demetria's body and she shifted in her chair.

  "Even though I want to strip you naked and lick you from head to foot."

  "Um." She thought about that. "Huh?"

  "I want you, Demetria. You are mine. We're destined for each other, so you might as well get used to the idea now."

  Something stirred inside her, a very feminine feeling of delight, tingling throughout her body. And mixed in with it was a sharp flare of anxiety at his words. "I don't berrong..." she paused, trying to make her tongue work properly. "I don't belong to onybiddy..."

  "I know." He reached over and stroked her face.

  She so wanted to lean in to the warmth of his palm as he caressed her, but again that dash of panic rippled up her spine, refusing to let her surrender to her whim. "So wha...wha..."

  Okay, mouth has gone bye-bye.

  "Sshh."

  He stood and helped her to her feet, slipping an arm around her waist. Which was a good thing, since her sense of balance had apparently accompanied her tongue on vacation.

  "It's time to go home, sweetheart."

  "M'kay."

  His body was warm against hers - snuggly warm. It was all she could do to stop herself from wrapping her limbs around him, like a koala up a eucalyptus tree. And why that thought popped into her brain, she had no idea.

  Vaguely aware that they were now back in the car, she sighed and let him put his arm around her once more, tucking her close to his side. There was a place on his shoulder that felt just right, and her head nestled into it comfortably.

  She sighed and closed her eyes. "Nice."

  "Yes, isn't it?"

  There was laughter in his voice. She could hear it. Oddly, she liked it.

  "Time to pay up." He was much closer now, his breath dusting her lips as he exhaled.

  She couldn't open her eyes, but that was okay. She'd apparently developed some hitherto unknown talents when it came to visualizing auras, because damned if she couldn't see the outline of his face and the glow of his lips through her closed eyelids.

  So it came as no surprise when those lips touched hers. What did surprise her was the shock of pleasure that ricocheted through her and the immediate response - she opened her mouth and welcomed his tongue with her own, tasting him, enjoying the sensual duel and allowing doors inside her to open and unleash a flood of erotically yummy tingles.

  The kiss wore on, a hungry thing that seemed to demand more and yet never quite reached its full potential.

  She heard a low moan of what sounded like bliss, and realized to her astonishment that it had come from her.

  His hand was on her thigh, she observed absently. It felt quite lovely. She wondered if it would feel as good if he moved it up a bit, and a smidgen to the left. She'd rather like to feel his fingers against her pussy. Oh God. She just thought the word "pussy".

  Something was definitely amiss with her. She was kissing a man like a starving porn star and making out with him in the back seat of a limo. And loving every second of it.

  Andrew's hand obediently slid upward to pretty much exactly where Demetria wanted it. Yes, there was something gloriously wrong with her, because she didn't scream, slap him or castrate him with her smart phone. She couldn't remember if there was an app for that, but if there was, odds were pretty good she had it on there somewhere.

  She simply moved her legs so that he could tuck his fingers where she wanted them most.

  Against her pussy.

  Chapter Four

  Andrew was having the best day of his life.

  He'd met - and had dinner with - the woman of his dreams. And now he had his hand up her skirt in the back of a fancy town car, which also had the most decadently soft leather seats he'd ever put his butt on.

  He could probably fuck her right now, if he wanted to. And wouldn't that be the most amazing experience - her naked body against that luxurious Cordovan gleam.

  But since his plans for Demetria went a lot further than just a quickie, he was prepared to wait. That didn't mean he couldn't have himself a little fun, of course. He leaned toward her and moved his hand gently, stroking the folds of her pussy through the thin silk of her underwear.

  She moaned, a rough little sound, her eyes closed as she rested against his shoulder. He dropped a light kiss on her nose and investigated some more. The fabric was no barrier to his inquisitive touch, and soon he had his fingers against her flesh, feeling the moist warmth and the soft folds responding to his caresses. His skin grew damp with her juices as she moved against him, an invitation he couldn't refuse. Carefully he let one finger stroke along her slit, investigating, learning where she was sensitive and which places made her suck in her breath.

  The brandy would be hitting her about now - the trolls also excelled in loading their liquor with natural relaxants. She'd be feeling content and sensual, a cat waiting to purr just for him.

  The right place...the right pressure...and yes, it was almost a purr. He'd found a spot that throbbed, slick and silky, and when he brushed his fingertips around it she moved to meet his hand, eager for more.

  Slowly he eased her skirt upward, revealing her firm thighs and the lace of her underwear. She was a shapely woman, but not overtly sexual in her choice of business outfits. Beneath the clothes, however, it was another matter. He'd missed this during his surveillance, although how it had slipped by him, he had no idea.

  Ms. Demetria Lyon had a thing for sexy lingerie.

  Her panties were black, a scanty little bit of lace and some other nicely embroidered stuff. Against her white skin they looked like the most decadently stunning work of art. He slid his hand beneath them again and cupped her bare mound, admiring the site of his male fingers over her female parts beneath the transparent lace.

  God, she was beautiful. And he was harder than a log from his own woodpile.

  She stirred. "Andrew. That feels so good." Her thighs moved as she tried to thrust into his hand.

  "I know." He pressed a little, knowing she'd sense it in her clit.

  Her moan of pleasure was answer enough. Her hips shifted, her body moved languorously next to him and - to his astonishment - her hand slid to his lap and fumbled with his pants. It took a few moments for him to get over his shock and do the gentlemanly thing...unzip his fly and help her get her hand inside.

  She found his hardness immediately, which wasn't terribly surprising, given that he was microseconds away from exploding out of his trousers. If she'd been leaning over him, he'd have put her eye out.

  In spite of her relaxed and distracted state, she managed some very respectable movements, stroking him, teasing him and just sort of playing with his masculine bits in the most delightful way. He lost focus on what he was doing once or twice when she slid the pad of her thumb over the slit at the tip of his engorged cock. That move was a killer and guaranteed attention-getter.

  He reciprocated by some accelerated clit-teasing, drawing her back into her own sexual ecstasy and giving him chance to catch his breath.

  Her chest heaved as she drew in a couple of deep gasps in response to a particular sideways flutter of his little finger. He filed that away in his mind under "things to do with my tongue a bit later on this evening."

  Andrew realized that neither of them could take much more of this heavy petting on leather. It was arousing in the extreme and he knew he wasn't going to last through hours of it, even though Demetria seemed very content to lie next to him and let him do whatever he wanted.

  Well, what he wanted was a whole lot more than this.

  And it was time.

  He lowered his head, kissed her on each closed eyelid, and mumbled the words he'd learned so thoroughly and carefully just a few weeks ago.

  He closed his eyes and held his breath...not releasing it until the cool breezes of his own home brushed against his body.

  He could have taken Demetria to his apartment, the one he'd painstakingly created prior
to his arrival. But he'd realized as soon as they'd sat down to dinner that she needed to be taken away from everything familiar. This was one woman who needed a change of scenery so badly screams of discontentment oozed from her every pore.

  He was going to refocus her attentions and demand her affections. There would be no phones, emails, conference calls or meetings. No offices or staff. No business attire.

  In fact, there would be no attire at all.

  He opened his eyes and sighed with pleasure. He was home, tucked away in a private little cottage, well away from his mother's. He'd set this place up as well, but not without difficulty since his Mom had some sort of sixth sense when it came to what her kids were up to.

  He'd never needed anything like it before. But he needed it now.

  He stood in a courtyard, surrounded by tall walls and ancient trees. There were flowers everywhere, scenting the air, colors brilliant in the rays of the setting sun.

  And there, in the middle of it all, was Demetria.

  Naked.

  He took a moment to appreciate the view.

  It was what he'd dreamed of ever since the eventful episode with the fairy, and she'd paid him back as promised. Ivory silk, spun gold, peach - her body's colors dazzled him and took his breath away.

  Revealed in all her glory, right there in front of him, Demetria's beauty was unobscured by anything at all. And to his mind, she glowed brighter than the brightest flower in the garden. She was truly flawless, the one tiny beauty spot on the inner curve of her right breast simply accentuated the perfection of the skin surrounding it. The brief glimpse of deeper pinks between her thighs matched the peachy rose nipples that were hardening even as he observed them.

  She was dreamily surveying her surroundings, apparently enjoying the sensual kiss of the warm breeze on her nakedness, and that smile, that curve of her lips, almost undid Andrew.

  He could so easily have just taken her there and then. But something held him back, something that said it was very important he handle this correctly, not leap on her like the horny wizard he was. That would come later.

  He hoped.

  In the meantime, he smiled at her, knowing she was reveling in the moment, reaching out to caress the petals of an exceptionally huge sunflower, and bending to sniff the fragrance of a lavender bloom.

  "How beautiful." The words were low and came thickly from her mouth as the effects of his little transmigration incantation lingered. He knew she was still a little disoriented.

  It would pass.

  He blinked then waved his hand, creating a low chaise beside a flowering shrub. If she needed to sit down it would work better than the bricks beneath her feet. He should have thought of it before, and gave himself a little mental slap upside the head.

  But then he forgave himself. It was Demetria, the woman of his dreams, and she was bare-assed naked. He could be allowed a little of his own confusion.

  He'd transported himself into his familiar wizard robes, of course. And thank God he had, because he had a hard-on to rival all hard-ons. He couldn't wait much longer, gorgeous to look at though she was.

  "Demetria, my love." He moved toward her, robe swishing around his ankles and brushing the head of his engorged cock. "Come to me, darling." He untied his belt and let the robe slide away, eager to feel the touch of her naked skin against his body.

  She swayed toward him, her lips full and shining, her nipples hard atop perfect breasts. He swore he could scent her arousal and his heart thundered as she reached out for him, letting her palms slide up over his biceps to his shoulders.

  "Take me," she whispered. "Make love to me here. Make me scream. I want you inside me. I ache for you..."

  "Uhh..."

  He hissed in a breath of pure ecstasy as she wrapped herself around him, her arms locking behind his neck, her taut nipples crushing into his chest and her pussy thrust against whatever portion of his genitals she could find.

  He was so excited he wasn't sure himself what she was touching, because it all felt magnificently erotic.

  The kiss was everything he'd hoped for - tender at first, then deepening, turning hotly passionate as his hands roamed everywhere, ending up cupping and squeezing her buttocks.

  She moaned into his mouth as her tongue flickered around his molars and plunged toward his tonsils. God, she was amazing.

  They stayed like that, lips locked together, tongues dueling with wet heat, bodies writhing abrasively, arousing each other with every tiny indrawn breath.

  Finally, Andrew peeled his mouth from hers and bent her backward over his arm in the very best of romance novel hero traditions. "Oh my love."

  Her head fell back, her throat pure softness, her pulse throbbing violently.

  "I want to fuck you now, Demetria. I'm going to claim you as my own. Thrust my huge cock deep inside you and wipe away the memories of any other men. You'll be mine forever."

  Okay, the huge cock bit was a bit showy, but Andrew had spent a lot of time reading those erotic novels he'd discovered during his research. He sort of liked the dialogue, in a showing-off kind of way.

  She sighed gustily. "Oh yes, please. Fuck me. Take me. I shall die if you don't make me come with your huge cock..."

  "Hmm." Andrew walked her backward to the chaise and laid her down tenderly. "Glad you're okay with the plan." He couldn't resist stroking his hand down her belly and over her smooth mound.

  She smiled up at him and parted her thighs, inviting his touch, welcoming the soft strokes against her pussy lips with another moan and a wriggle of her hips.

  "Shit, Demetria." Andrew groaned and sat down next to her. "I don't know where to start. You're such a delicious meal spread out before me, better than oysters, better than any fettuccine you could name. I could eat you for days on end."

  Her smile faded, then froze.

  Andrew frowned as he felt her body tense, then frowned more deeply as her face paled to a slightly greenish hue and her eyes widened.

  Her hand flew to her mouth and she rapidly swiveled away from him and toward the shrub.

  Andrew jumped up and backward, nearly falling over his own feet as Demetria, the love of his life and his about-to-be sexual plaything, threw up like a college freshman coming off a five-day beer binge.

  *~*~*~*

  There were birds singing. Not just chirping, but actually creating music in at least three-part harmony, if not four.

  Demetria lay on her back with her eyes closed, listening to the incredibly lovely sounds. She drifted, her mind sluggish, her body relaxed.

  Her naked body.

  With great caution, she lifted her eyelids, adrenaline replacing the lassitude, apprehension rushing through her veins instead of quiet appreciation.

  She didn't know where she was - and she was naked. Covered by a soft sheet, thank God, but naked beneath it.

  Her mind took a quick inventory and she felt a little sore around her ribcage. Then she winced as she recalled vomiting violently over something...pink?

  A slight wave of nausea made her catch her breath, but even as she did, it faded away.

  "There, dear. All better now. I knew that essence of mola nut would work."

  Carefully, Demetria turned her head. And then wished she hadn't, since a large, gentle-faced chipmunk was sitting beside her, holding a mug of something in between its paws.

  "I'm dead, aren't I." She croaked the statement from a throat that felt parched.

  "Silly human." Impossibly, the chipmunk smiled at her, then put a paw to her head, lifted it and tipped some of the liquid from the mug down Demetria's throat.

  At this point, she was too shocked to even choke or spit it out. She was definitely dead. Or hallucinating in a major way.

  That must be it.

  That man she'd gone to dinner with - her memories flooded back. He'd given her something. Slipped her a Mickey or a roofie with the agnolotti.

  She swallowed, realizing the drink was cool and tasted a little like peaches. Or maybe strawberries
. Whatever it was, it was delicious.

  But that didn't mitigate the fact she'd been given it by a damn chipmunk.

  "Where is he?" She ground out the words between clenched teeth. "That jerk. That asshole. He drugged me, didn't he? I'm having LSD flashbacks or something. Re-living my cartoon princess years. You're not possible, so I have to be hallucinating." She shut her mouth with a snap and glared at the chipmunk.

  Who sighed and shook its head. "See? That's what you get when you try and do something nice for a human. I give you my special elixir so you won't throw up any more - the hibiscus will recover by the way, thanks for asking - and what do I get? Abuse and accusations that I'm an improbable non-corporeal entity created by some stupid animation factory."

  "I - um - "

  "Oh don't bother." The chipmunk stood and glared at Demetria. "I haven't much use for humans anyway and you've simply reinforced my opinion. You're arrogant enough to believe you know everything, young lady. You refuse to accept what's in front of your eyes, even though you're looking right at it. So damn rigid in your thinking that there's no room for the impossible even though it's not only possible, it's happening at this very moment." Moving away from the bed, the chipmunk shrugged. "I'm just sorry a nice wizard like Andrew ended up with you. However, you're what he wants, for some unknown reason."

  It paused, then stalked back to the bed, stiff-legged, with its hair tufting around its ears. "Let me make one thing crystal clear." A paw waved under Demetria's nose. "You hurt that man and you'll be in serious trouble. He's good people. A bit inept now and again, but he's got a good heart. So you mess with him and you're going to be the one hurting. We clear on that?"

  Demetria blinked.

  "Are we absolutely clear on that?"

  The chipmunk was close enough for Demetria to count the whiskers coming from either side of its nose and to get a whiff of walnut-breath. She did the only thing she could do, since she couldn't run anywhere. She nodded.

  "Good."

  It spun on its back paw and strode away, tail quivering in what Demetria could only describe as irritation.