Page 123 of The Guru: Shadow

The longing for it rose in her, longing for being consumed, being wanted, needed, to take and be taken. So, she cleaned her mouth, and when she stood at the door, she took all the courage she had, let the towel drop to the floor, and went back into the bedroom.

Naked, her hair still wet, in daylight. Something she would never have done with anybody else; her insecurities did always tell her to not show her body. With Deis, all of it was forgotten. None of it applied. And maybe that was the reason she couldn’t help but fall for him. He was the healing balm to her broken soul.

The look appearing on his face the moment she stepped out of the bathroom was pure gold. His eyes darkened the very second he saw her and a seductive grin appeared on his face. It was like a switch in her flipped, silencing her insecure part while the carnal instinct part took over.

She walked over to him, making every step deliberate, not breaking their locked eyes. As she reached him, she sat down on his lap, her legs spread wide over it. It revealed everything, and that was exactly her intention. Taking his face into her hands while his hands slung around her and grasped for her buttock, she kissed him, first softly before she entered his mouth with her tongue. Arousal grew in her and as she could feel his cock sweet against her folds. She rolled her hips a bit while kissing him fiercely so that she massaged his cock with her sensible parts. The touch of it, the sensation made her moan, her core already waiting to be filled with his cock. But, she needed answers first.

“Tell me what and how you found out about Denny.”

A loud groan issued from him. “And here I was, thinking you’d forgotten about it.”

“Never.”

“Alright. Let’s get to it. Denny was your father’s best friend, also working for Richard. He supposedly died in France in 1998. Only he did not.”

“How did you find out?”

“His grave is empty.”

“You dug up his grave?”

“Not I, but my people.”

Gods this man! Digging up graves? Seriously?

“We believe it was a tactic to get away from Richard. Or to get the target of his back. But what I wonder is, how you know all that already?”

Fuck.

“What target?” And she leaned in on him, kissing his neck.

“Being on the most wanted list of the FBI. Don’t distract me.”

Here she was, thinking to get out of it as easy as that.

“Because I killed my father with the gun from the box my father kept in the attic, labeled Denny Dumont.”

As he looked quite inquiringly at her, she added, “Yes, there was more in there, but if it quietens your mind, I did not know he was alive, nor did I know he was on the most wanted list.”

“What more?”

“Nothing of importance – old photos, a book, a journal of the sorts, and some files with documents, bank statements. And no, I do not have it, because, as you very well know, I burned down the house.”

A little smirk ran over his lips. Curious thing to sit here with him, naked on his lap, and just talk about all the ghosts of her pasts. It was, all in all, very arousing. She did not have to hide anymore or conceal anything.

“Do you have any idea why he’s turned up on your doorstep now, taking the risk of being recognized?”

“None. But surely no good. And right now, I do not care.”

With it, she fumbled open the buttons on his shirt while she kissed him, signaling to him this conversation was done.

It feels so fucking good to take over control.

When he let her, their kiss became a fierce embrace. He supported her rolling hips to pull her even harder onto his instantly hard cock. When she had finally opened all the buttons, she slid her hands over the soft skin on his abdomen, up to his chest with the three scars from the gunshot wounds, and over his shoulders to remove the shirt by letting her finger trail downthe backside of his arms. Between her fingers and his skin, the feeling of a million little lightnings electrified their encounter, which let him shudder a bit under her.

Gods, why does it feel so good just touching him?

Softly ending the kiss, she trailed over to his ear and down his neck, her lips brushing softly over his skin. His skin scented like vanilla-flavored whiskey, and yet, so fresh, as if he’d just returned from a walk during springtime in Central Park. It was intoxicating and she had to taste him. So, with her tongue, she trailed down his neck before she nibbled on his neck with sweet little bites. This morning was different than the carnal sex they had in the bathroom; this morning was more about a deep connection she felt growing in her chest.