Chapter One
Oh so beautiful, this one
She warms my soul and gives me hope
Could she be the one?
Yes, I believe she is, in one form or another
Either she’ll gift me with her life
Or she’ll provide me with my heart’s desire
So hard to tell which one I would like best
It’s always such a pleasure to watch them die
But the sweet morsel lying beneath me right now
Shouldn’t die so quickly
It would be a waste of her warm and willing body
Now, my little angel
Do not fret so, all will be well
Yes, that’s it
Sleep now, my sweet
And rest well
You’ll need your strength
* * * *
Tempest Gandy opened her eyes slowly, her spirit savoring the soft light caressing her face. It came in through a small crack in the translucent sheers hanging from the full-length windows that led to the balcony. And it marked another new day, another day where she woke up tired, despite the fact she’d slept the night through. Her body ached as if she’d been taking part in a sex marathon. What was wrong with her?
She closed her eyes, remembering the dream that had kept her wrapped up tightly; the warm male hands that caressed her breasts and stroked her thighs, leaving her body tingling for more.
But while her body craved the attention of her dream lover, her mind screamed at her that something was wrong. This was the seventh night in a row that she’d had this dream. They were always the same, featuring a man who didn’t seem to have a face—or even a body, stroking her to orgasm, leaving her sated and very sore.
He didn’t seem to care about his own pleasure, for when she’d tried to reach for him she’d realized he wasn’t there. One minute he’d been touching her, the next he’d just vanished.
No, that wasn’t really right. He hadn’t been there in the first place. She’d never seen a form. That had been just fine with her. When was the last time a lover had cared about her enough to make her climax without worrying about his own pleasure?
Never, that’s when. She shouldn’t be concerned about it. After all, it was only a dream.
Or was it?
The last few mornings her clit had been sore, as if someone had actually toyed with it all night long. And today was no different.
She had climaxed again and again. And again. And again. The sensations had risen with each climax, so much so that she would be screaming at him to leave her alone, to stay away from her, to let her rest. Too much pleasure could bring pain. She’d tried to convince him of that but he wouldn’t listen.
Until right at the end. She remembered his deep voice whispering for her to relax, to sleep. And she had. But not enough for her to forget the dream.
She pushed back the covers and swung her feet over the side of the bed, the hard wood chilly under her soles as she stood and padded over to the floor to ceiling windows, pulling back the sheers and lifted the sash all the way up. She stepped outside, not caring that she wore only the shorts and ripped T-shirt that she slept in.
It was early, the only people who would be out now were her neighbors and she trusted every one of them. Tourists didn’t generally find their way to her neighborhood until later in the day. At this time of the morning, they would be exhausted from partying on
Bourbon Street
the night before to go exploring. She took a deep breath and sighed in pleasure as the smells of fried dough coated with sugar reached her nostrils. Beignets. Her mouth watered and she made plans to go to the corner and pick up some of the tasty concoctions, along with a large café au lait.
October in
New Orleans
: it didn’t get much better than this. The weather would be middle of the road, there might be some rain but it wouldn’t be too bad. Not at this time of the month. The heavier rains generally came earlier in the season, and this year the storms had been blessedly absent.
She’d worried a little about buying her house on
Dauphine
, five blocks from the
Oh so beautiful, this one
She warms my soul and gives me hope
Could she be the one?
Yes, I believe she is, in one form or another
Either she’ll gift me with her life
Or she’ll provide me with my heart’s desire
So hard to tell which one I would like best
It’s always such a pleasure to watch them die
But the sweet morsel lying beneath me right now
Shouldn’t die so quickly
It would be a waste of her warm and willing body
Now, my little angel
Do not fret so, all will be well
Yes, that’s it
Sleep now, my sweet
And rest well
You’ll need your strength
* * * *
Tempest Gandy opened her eyes slowly, her spirit savoring the soft light caressing her face. It came in through a small crack in the translucent sheers hanging from the full-length windows that led to the balcony. And it marked another new day, another day where she woke up tired, despite the fact she’d slept the night through. Her body ached as if she’d been taking part in a sex marathon. What was wrong with her?
She closed her eyes, remembering the dream that had kept her wrapped up tightly; the warm male hands that caressed her breasts and stroked her thighs, leaving her body tingling for more.
But while her body craved the attention of her dream lover, her mind screamed at her that something was wrong. This was the seventh night in a row that she’d had this dream. They were always the same, featuring a man who didn’t seem to have a face—or even a body, stroking her to orgasm, leaving her sated and very sore.
He didn’t seem to care about his own pleasure, for when she’d tried to reach for him she’d realized he wasn’t there. One minute he’d been touching her, the next he’d just vanished.
No, that wasn’t really right. He hadn’t been there in the first place. She’d never seen a form. That had been just fine with her. When was the last time a lover had cared about her enough to make her climax without worrying about his own pleasure?
Never, that’s when. She shouldn’t be concerned about it. After all, it was only a dream.
Or was it?
The last few mornings her clit had been sore, as if someone had actually toyed with it all night long. And today was no different.
She had climaxed again and again. And again. And again. The sensations had risen with each climax, so much so that she would be screaming at him to leave her alone, to stay away from her, to let her rest. Too much pleasure could bring pain. She’d tried to convince him of that but he wouldn’t listen.
Until right at the end. She remembered his deep voice whispering for her to relax, to sleep. And she had. But not enough for her to forget the dream.
She pushed back the covers and swung her feet over the side of the bed, the hard wood chilly under her soles as she stood and padded over to the floor to ceiling windows, pulling back the sheers and lifted the sash all the way up. She stepped outside, not caring that she wore only the shorts and ripped T-shirt that she slept in.
It was early, the only people who would be out now were her neighbors and she trusted every one of them. Tourists didn’t generally find their way to her neighborhood until later in the day. At this time of the morning, they would be exhausted from partying on
Bourbon Street
the night before to go exploring. She took a deep breath and sighed in pleasure as the smells of fried dough coated with sugar reached her nostrils. Beignets. Her mouth watered and she made plans to go to the corner and pick up some of the tasty concoctions, along with a large café au lait.
October in
New Orleans
: it didn’t get much better than this. The weather would be middle of the road, there might be some rain but it wouldn’t be too bad. Not at this time of the month. The heavier rains generally came earlier in the season, and this year the storms had been blessedly absent.
She’d worried a little about buying her house on
Dauphine
, five blocks from the
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