Chapter 24 - Austin

One day, I’m going to have sex so good even the neighbors will light a cigarette when I’m done

~ Phoibe Cupid

“What the hell was all that about? Who’s Cocaine Carl and Nancy Needles? And where did they go? Was that like some Harry Potter spell or something?”

Bee laughed, and it was a touch hysterical, telling me right away how nervous she was.

“Ummm, okay, where to start. Mac sees dead people, just like the freaky kid from the movie. Cocaine Carl apparently hangs here, he OD’d in this apartment, and Nancy Needles is the junky ghost who lives in the foyer.”

Ghosts? I thought with disbelief as I began to warily take in the apartment.

“You won’t see them. It's Mac’s gift. Just pretend like they don’t exist. That's what I do. As for where they went, Mac traced them away. No spell, just her powers.”

Nodding, I took another look around the apartment, checking for the fucking ghosts, before my gaze found its way back to Bee. Dried blood was smudged across her cheek. Some had caked under her nose and the bridge of it was a little red and swollen. Her hair had been tugged loose from its high ponytail, and the wispy lengths of white blonde hung in disarray around her face. She looked like a defiantly beautiful angel. 

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Oh, heck yeah,” Bee said, waving my concern away. “I’m already healing and will be back to normal in another five minutes.”

“Impressive,” I noted. “What were you girls fighting about?”

“Just the usual, who looks better in lyrca, who can pull off tube socks. You know, normal stuff.”

“The first time I ever saw you, you girls were fighting.”

The memory shocked me, because I hadn’t realized until this moment that it had been Bee and Mac carrying on like a pair of crazy crack-pots at my busking gig. I recalled that day as I packed up my guitar and kissed Mavis on the cheek. The two women scuffling on the grass in Prospect Park had caught the attention of my audience and me. Acknowledging their beauty and obvious insanity, I’d packed up and turned my back.

“You remember that?” Bee asked, her voice clogged with emotion.

“And you were at the restaurant, when I was on that date with Deena.”

“Maybe,” she murmured, probably unsure if I was going to lose my shit or not.

“Did you shoot me with your arrow?” I wondered.

From all accounts, mortal accounts, anyway, being shot with Cupid’s arrow was supposed to bring on desire and lust; however, my first impression of Bee had been nothing but indifference.  Perhaps I didn’t notice her until I’d been shot; maybe that had opened my eyes, so-to-speak.

“No,” Bee carefully replied. I could tell there was something more to that story from the reluctant way she answered. “What did you want to talk about?”

I didn’t miss the blatant change of topic, but I was a man on a mission today, and I wouldn’t let some niggling spidey sense dissuade me.

“I have a couple of things I need to say. Firstly, I’m sorry I was away for so long.”

“It was only four days,” Bee said as she attempted to wipe the blood from her face with a dry tissue.

Grabbing a paper towel, I ran it under the tap before gently turning her to face me. Then I carefully wiped the blood from beneath her nose and off her cheek.

“If our roles had been reversed, I think I would have been beating down your door within the first twenty-four hours.”

Bee smiled. “I spent the first twenty-four hours trying to get my bow back from my father, and then Mac used her powers to lock me inside the apartment for the next three days so I wouldn’t stalk your sexy behind.”

“Really?” I couldn’t stop the smirk. Trying to be casual, I glanced around the tiny, empty room. “Are you still stuck in here?”

Bee grinned, her face suddenly awash with such happiness she almost seemed to glow.

“Not any more. I have my bow back!”

“Your father gave it back to you?”

Her smile dropped, and she scowled, not quite as radiant as her smile, but cute nonetheless.

“No, Mac had to steal it back.”

“That won’t have repercussions?” I had been on the receiving end of my father’s anger more times than I could count. I couldn’t imagine how foreboding the fury of a god might be.

Bee shrugged as I finished cleaning her face before throwing the paper in the bin. I moved to stand in front of her, placing my hands on her waist. For days I’d been thinking about touching her again, even when I was trying to convince myself this whole immortal thing was too much drama for me.

The jolt of lust as I lifted her to the kitchen counter made me harden behind my zipper as I braced my hands either side of her hips. Standing this close to her, my brain became addled under the sweet scent that seemed to be Phoibe Cupid. Candy apple. I dipped my head into the soft skin at the curve of her neck and breathed deeply, drawing that edible aroma back into my lungs.

“Are you sniffing me,” Bee whispered. “Because I’m not sure whether to take that as a compliment, or be weirded out.”

Chuckling, I reluctantly dragged myself away from her alluring scent. “You smell so fucking good, like candy.”

“Ooookay,” Bee mouthed. “You said you had a couple of things you needed to say, I’m still waiting on the second,” she prompted when I became distracted by her delicate features, my gaze following every line and curve of her face. It took me a moment to understand what she was getting at.

“Secondly,” I went on, trying to gather my thoughts, “someone told me I was being a pussy by avoiding you . . . and, this.” I lowered my head and pressed a kiss to Bee’s neck, barely a whisper of my lips pressing against her soft, warm skin, yet enough to drag a subtle shudder from her.

“This?” Bee breathlessly asked.

“Us,” I clarified, nibbling my way up to her jawline.

Bee was silent for a moment, and her flesh broke out into goose pimples.

“So, you’re here because someone called you out on it? Because someone attacked your masculinity?” she asked, and I didn’t miss the cautious way she spoke.

Pressing my lips to the corner of her mouth, I smiled.

“No, Bee, I’m here because staying away from you was tearing me to pieces. And I was being a pussy.” I pressed a kiss to the other side of her mouth. “You need someone who can challenge you mentally and physically, and you need someone to be a little bit wild with. I want to be that man.” I opened my mouth slightly and traced her bottom lip with my tongue. “Be wild with me, Sugar.”

Bee’s hands tangled in my hair, tugging in a deliciously painful way as she pulled me into her lips, and she kissed me like her next breath of air depended on it. And fuck if I didn’t kiss her back with just as much force and passion, sliding my tongue in an erotic dance against hers. Fuck, I could never, ever get enough of this, of her. Bee’s legs wrapped around my waist and she used the heels of her sneakers to drag me even closer, until I wasn’t sure where she began and I ended. For what could of have been hours, but was more likely minutes, maybe even seconds, I pressed my body against Bee’s and took everything she gave like a starved man.  When we finally dragged ourselves apart, we were both breathing heavily.

“Do you know what I’ve been dreaming of doing to you ever since I first laid eyes on you? It’s kind of naughty,” she whispered in my ear while both hands went to the hem of my shirt and lifted it.

My cock pressed against my jeans and I ignored the pinch of the zipper against the firm flesh. I was pretty sure her naughty thoughts were nothing compared to the filthy things I’d been imagining myself doing to her. Raising my hands I allowed her to remove my shirt.

“It’s also a little bit wild,” she breathed into my other ear as her hands reached for the button and zipper on my jeans. I groaned as her little hands brushed over the hardness beneath the denim.

“It sounds like fun,” I managed to say as she used her feet to push the material down my thighs while I fumbled to take off my sneakers. “Sounds like something I could be into.”

“Oh, Music Man, it’s more than fun, and you are going to be totally into it.”

I didn’t waste another second. I knocked Bee’s hands, which were reaching for my dick, aside and ripped her shirt over her head. Seeing her sitting there in nothing but a lacy, white bra and jeans was too much. I needed to get to her skin. With little finesse, I tore the Bee’s bra in half and tugged it from her shoulders.

“Damn,” she murmured, looking down at the ruined slip of lace.

“Sorry,” I replied, completely distracted by the gentle swell of her breasts and the pretty, pink peaks.

“You don’t look sorry.”

Smiling, I raised one hand reverently to her breast and brushed my knuckles over the puckered nipple.

“Not even a little bit, Sugar Bee.”

“Just Sugar,” she moaned loudly. “You’re lucky I let you get away with Sugar.”

Taking her nipple into my mouth, I sucked hard. Bee’s hips moved restlessly on the counter, and I released the bud with an audible pop.

“You let me get away with it?” I whispered.

I began to feast on her other breast until my mouth was forced away by Bee grabbing my hair and dragging me so she could look into my eyes.

“Of course I do and you can spank me later for it, but right now, I don’t want to do slow. I want hard . . . and fast.”

Smiling, I grabbed the button on her jeans. Considering my patience was seconds away from blowing in a most emasculating kind of way, I was more than happy to oblige.

“Yes, ma’am.”

I tugged until her jeans slipped down her narrow hips, taking her underwear with them, and Bee lifted her bottom so I could push them down her long legs, grappling with her shoes before tossing them aside. I placed my hands on her thighs and dragged them up her flesh until I cupped her breasts before leaning forward and kissing her, dipping my tongue deeply into the warm confines of her mouth.

She was a decadence, sweet, warm, and alive under my hands.

“More,” Bee complained as I broke away to trail kisses down her chest and take her nipple into her mouth once more. Fuck, I loved these nipples, so soft, and pink.

Bee wrapped her legs around my waist, pulling herself tight against my body until her wet heat could be felt rubbing along the rigid length of my cock. It was at that moment a rhythmic banging against the living room wall pulled my attention away from the woman before me.

“What the fuck?” I asked in disbelief, raising my head to glare at the offensive sound coming from behind the wall.

“Mother trucker,” Bee hissed, annoyed. “Not again.”

My startled gaze caught hers, and a wicked grin took the place of my surprise. Bee cocked an eyebrow as I pulled her from the kitchen counter. The overly friendly neighbors’ war cries were nothing but a distant noise.

“Bring it on,” I murmured, carrying Bee across the small living room and pressing her against the wall between her apartment and the neighbors’. I kissed her, allowing my hands to roam beneath her ass, finding the warm, wet heat of her entrance. Sliding a finger through her pussy, I dipped it into her entrance and kissed the moan that fell from her lips.

 “Condom?” I remembered with a grimace, realizing I didn’t have one on me.

“I have an implant which prevents pregnancy, and immortals can’t catch disease . . . and that’s a mood killer.” Bee breathed heavily, trying to rub her core against my cock.

“My whistle is clean, baby.”

“Did you just call your peen a whistle?” she asked with a laugh. I grinned as I plunged my fingers back into her core. That drew a long groan from Bee and her head thumped against the wall.

“How’s the mood now?” I asked, dropping my head to suck hard on one nipple.

“Pretty good,” Bee managed to squeeze out. “And will be even better when you get that whistle inside me.”