Part 2 (1/2)

Dear G.o.d, no, she didn't want to know. But she was here, dammit, with her hopes beginning to shatter at warp speed. So she couldn't kiss. But maybe she could work her tongue for other good purposes.

Please, whoever is up there listening, let her work some magic.

Amy shoved her backward harder than necessary. If Paige was ever wet, which she was back at the grocery store when she spotted the tag dangling like an enticing drug from Amy's jacket, she sure as h.e.l.l wasn't now. Nowhere even close.

With none-too-s.e.xy movements, Amy tugged her shorts down her legs, then with that wicked smile that was beginning to scare Paige, a smile that would otherwise look nice on a p.o.r.n star, she slipped a finger under Paige's thong and slid it down to her crotch.

Okay, so far, so good. This could be promising. All she needed was an o.r.g.a.s.m, with someone else present in the room. She could pull this off.

Paige relaxed and spread her legs a little wider.

”Let me see it. Your p.u.s.s.y. I wanna see it.” Amy licked her lips and Paige arched a brow.

She had a perfectly good p.o.r.n movie at home. She could be there, right now, flicking her own c.l.i.t and playing with her new lipstick vibrator as she watched Stacy and Angelica get each other off with their fluorescent pink d.i.l.d.o and b.u.t.t beads.

What the h.e.l.l had she gotten herself into? Again. Hadn't she had enough pathetic lovers in the past six years to prove she was never going to find s.e.x that ripped her emotions in half like her masked stranger had? Hadn't she endured enough lousy lovers to prove that kind of connection didn't exist out from behind a mask? Possibly outside of New Orleans.

Paige frantically searched the room. There was a bouquet of plastic tulips on the dresser. The kind little old ladies kept on their coffee tables to impress guests. A camera could fit in there. Absolutely. h.e.l.l, they made them small enough to fit in the smoke detector over her head. Any second now someone was going to burst through the door and hand her a gift card to Nordstrom for pa.s.sing the time limit for enduring this nonsense.

Please? Someone? Anyone? This had to be a joke. A cold but very good joke.

Amy pulled her underwear to the side.

Paige waited for it, for the touch of hot lips around her, of fingers to gently push inside her, slow at first, then faster, until she came around them. Please. Please. Please let this b.i.t.c.h be good at something other than drying up a crotch.

When cold air swirled over her flesh, Paige raised her head.

Was this b.i.t.c.h seriously blowing on her p.u.s.s.y? Where the h.e.l.l had she gotten her diploma? A f.u.c.king Cracker Jack box?

Amy winked at her. ”Like nothing you've ever felt before. Told you I was good.”

She blew again, this time harder. Paige was positive she could feel her c.l.i.t shrivel and shrink as the cold air swarmed over her flesh.

”Oh, for the love of kittens! That's it!” Paige crawled out from under her, shoved Amy onto her back, and then straddled her.

She was beyond furious as she pushed her hand between her own legs. How the h.e.l.l did she do it? Time after time, she got herself into these predicaments. When was she going to learn her lesson? When was she going to get it through her thick skull that New Orleans was a fluke of nature, that she was never going to find that earth-moving kind of s.e.x again?

G.o.d was punis.h.i.+ng her for some reason. There was no other explanation for it.

Hadn't she been a good girl? Well, minus the nights she stripped her clothes off, pinched her nipples into hard peaks, and gathered the dollar bills off the floor once the music screeched to a halt. That was survival, right? And He couldn't count the lovers. She was young, and needy, and h.o.r.n.y, for crying out loud.

Paige flicked herself and circled her hips while Amy stared up at her, that demented smile on her face that was seriously beginning to scare Paige.

Paige ground her teeth. She was a total nimrod for believing, hoping, this woman wouldn't be another lousy lover. She should have been satisfied with her new purchase of s.e.x toys instead of dreaming that maybe, just maybe, she could get off by the hands of another.

Her bad.

”Oh, how I love to watch a woman do herself.” Amy squeezed her hips and popped upward. The motion knocked Paige off balance. ”Do yourself, baby. Do yourself hard. Do it so good.”

Paige righted herself with a growl and closed her eyes, shoved away Amy's voice, and willed the dark images of her masked warrior to her mind. She'd been perfect. Touched in the perfect places. Said the perfect things.

Where, oh where, was she? Where, oh where, was one just like her?

”f.u.c.k your fingers, baby.” Amy snagged her hips upward so sharply that Paige was thrown off balance again.

Paige growled, pushed her free hand in the middle of Amy's chest, and pinned her down. ”Don't move!”

A satisfied expression crossed Amy's face. ”Baby is filthy. Will you spank me, too?” She ground into Paige. Not in a seductive sway, but in a wiggle-wiggle movement that threw Paige from one side to the other.

Paige slapped her hand over Amy's mouth. ”Don't move another muscle! Don't say another word!” She started grinding over her fingers again while Amy stared wide-eyed at her.

She closed her eyes again and let her mystery woman bloom into view. The dark image of the stranger hovering over Paige, the sight of her staring down at Paige while she thrust inside her, the erotic capture of lips against lips, tongue against tongue, and the feel of those fingers driving deep.

Paige's o.r.g.a.s.m reached the edge and fell over. It wasn't as explosive as she'd liked, wasn't explosive at all, but considering the circ.u.mstances, she'd take whatever she could get. Despite this woman's intentions to the contrary, Paige was going to get hers. She'd endured too much in the past thirty minutes not to walk away with something.

She rolled off Amy, donned each piece of clothing one at a time, and then walked calmly out of the house without so much as a backward glance. She'd seen and heard all she could for one night. Her spirits were ripped apart. If a s.e.x professor wasn't the good luck charm she'd been waiting for, who the h.e.l.l would be?

Still pondering the question when she walked into her house, she found the evil orange cat lying in wait just inside the door. He gave her that low growl he had mastered, and his ears went flat against his head. Was it possible for a cat to kill someone? If so, she was sure he was biding his time, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

Lucky for her, he couldn't reach the kitchen knives. She'd deliberately stashed them in the drawers.

”h.e.l.lo, your evilness.” Paige shook the bag of cat food and his ears perked. ”Ahh. Look how pretty you are when you want something from me. You wanna be my best friend now, don't you?” She took a step forward and shook the bag again. ”You know, I'm on to your little game. You're getting a sick thrill out of puking on my beautiful rug, aren't you? So, I was thinking.” Paige gave another shake. Another step. Damien backed up, watching her with wary eyes, his ears flattening once again. ”If I only feed you once a day, you can only puke once a day. Your doc says you must have an irritable digestive system. Living off all that rotten tuna and fish guts probably gave you a sensitive little tummy.”

She stepped around him and walked into the kitchen. With a quick shake and a loud rustle of the bag, she removed his box of Science Diet, the only d.a.m.n cat food he would eat, and placed it on the counter. How was it a cat who had dined off maggot-infested grub had such expensive taste? ”And since you've already been fed today, you won't be needing any of this yummy, delicious, bacon-flavored food.”

When she turned back to him, he lowered his head and hissed. ”Yeah, I know, sucks to be you right now. Good night, p.u.s.s.ycat.” She took a step forward, thought twice, then reached down and plucked the rug off the floor. ”And this goes with me tonight, you evil puker.”

Twenty minutes later, she was curled up in bed with her laptop, website open for her blog, and ready to share her nightly horrors with thousands of followers. Good thing someone would find humor with her torturous night.

I met a woman tonight. In the grocery store. *seems to be my personal singles meet and greet lately* Tall, butch in all the perfect places we femmes crave...nice, tight a.s.s. Except for the fact that I found her on the organic aisle, I was in l.u.s.t from first glance. We gave each other the once-over, the one that says, ”You're cute. I'm interested. I'm totally not straight,” kind of stares. You guys know the look. I wanted to force her to come to me, to play a little hard to get. Didn't want to show her how easy I truly am. But my h.o.r.n.y curiosity got the best of me, and I was quickly lured down an aisle I wouldn't normally be caught dead on. She had pretty eyes, cute smile, and heaven help me, she had the golden ticket hanging like a drug from her jacket pocket. It read...s.e.xologist! In h.o.r.n.y pillow queen terms, it said, lie back and enjoy the ride. Holy frijoles! I can't remember if I told her my name, if she even asked, before we raced from the store. I'd struck gold, so what the h.e.l.l use was it to stall for such unnecessary exchange of information? I've been searching for this woman for years. I'd finally found her, with her tag screaming out all the things she was going to do to me. This was the one. At last! This was the one who was going to tilt my s.e.xual fantasies into reality. This was the one who was going to lift me off my feet with an o.r.g.a.s.m. She was going to make me scream from the intensity. She was going to make me cry from the wet heat. She was. Until...

Chapter Two.

Mayson Montgomery balanced herself on a scaffold under the tormenting Sri Lankan sun and pulled the trigger on the nail gun. The sounds of construction echoed around her. Other nail guns popped in the distance, hammers drove against wood, and voices bellowed for supplies over the racket. But the most beautiful sound of all was the children laughing and squealing as they played Simon Says, a game she'd taught them shortly after arriving in this leveled village.

She'd been the leader of hundreds of emergency missions, rebuilt thousands of houses, and each time, it was the children who caught her breath, not the unbelievable sight of devastation or the unreal images some people never witnessed in their lifetime. Sure, there were tears. Of course there was fear. However, behind those tears and their fear, almost always, there were timid smiles. Behind those smiles was hope. Hope that Mayson and her crew could bring laughter back to their lives even if through a d.a.m.n nail gun or a simple game taught to them during a water break. Somehow, kids were resilient to disaster.

The villagers called Mayson and her crew the heroes simply because they could create a foundation with concrete, because they could erect a house with two-by-fours or brick and mortar.

To Mayson, these survivors were the true heroes. They had lived through emotional turmoil, witnessed something terrifying, lost loved ones, yet they still greeted each morning with bright eyes and an eagerness to be a part of the work. To Mayson, that was true heroism, to make it through something so unimaginable, so life altering, and still be able to face each day as a new beginning.

With every smile and every outburst of laughter, she was witnessing their middle finger to the earthquake, to Mother Nature, that had shaken their lives apart. Every time they wrapped her in a thankful hug, she was experiencing miracles.

She lived for the smiles. Those hugs were what drove her. It was her pa.s.sion, her calling in life, to rebuild their broken dreams, definitely what made her tick. It was part of her genetics to give back, to always lend a helping hand to those less fortunate, and to be among the first emergency responders to every natural disaster. Being part of a team who gave her a rushed high she couldn't describe.

Building a billion-dollar empire of aquatic wind turbines on her own, feeling the surge of adrenaline every time one of those beautiful monsters was erected in the ocean, couldn't compare to the elation of seeing order rise from chaos, like a phoenix rising from the ashes of tragedy.