Possess Me (3 page)

“That’s too bad. Because she’s already here. She and Michelle just sat down at the table closest to the dance floor.”

“Shit.” He saw her as soon as he turned his head. Allegra. Ethereal and lovely in a long broom skirt and a sheer, long-sleeved blouse. She always tried to cover herself, but he’d seen her. All of her, enough to know she was perfection. Strawberries and cream with sprinkles of cinnamon. A delicious confection he hungered for far more than he was willing to admit.

He watched her tug on the thin, red, see-through material of her blouse. She was worried about her scars. He knew from Ben that she’d been a writer for an adventure travel magazine before an accident left her on an open-ended vacation. She’d been all over the world, climbing mountains and diving off exotic island cliffs. Beautiful
and
courageous. An irresistible combination.

Rousseau had never left the state of Louisiana. He’d stuck out the hurricanes and the breaking of the levees. His only escape came in books about travel, or stories the female tourists who ended up in his shop, in his bed, would share in the glow between rounds of hard fucking.

He ignored the defensive voice in his head. He’d never leave New Orleans. He was tied here just as surely as if there were shackles on his legs.

Allegra may be here now, mending her body and soul. But she wouldn’t stay for long. And no matter how much he wanted her, she wouldn’t be able to accept his curse. He gripped the table and shook his head. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Coward.”

Ben’s quiet words sent a gale of laughter echoing through his head, followed by a strong surge of power. “Damn it,
no
.”

 

 

“You didn’t have to come with me.” She wasn’t sure why Michelle had come along. Allegra had just wanted a few tips on seducing the opposite sex, or for her roommate to make her hair do something sexy despite the humidity. This was not part of the plan.

Michelle smiled as an attractive man tripped off the dance floor, too busy trying to look down her tight black halter to notice the step. Allegra sighed. She wished she had breasts like those.

“Are you kidding?” Michelle adjusted her strap as an excuse to check out the fit of the man’s jeans while talking to Allegra. “I wouldn’t let you come to a place like this without a chaperone. A chaperone who can protect you from yourself if you even
think
about chasing after Rousseau. Besides, after dealing with angry teenagers wielding finger paint and a subconscious need to destroy my classroom, I need a break. Maybe a new distraction.”

Distraction was Michelle’s code word for
man
. No relationship or boyfriend. Not for her. She was terminally single. Always had been. For some reason Michelle just didn’t trust men. She’d told Allegra once that if she didn’t enjoy the male body as much as she did, she would go after women instead.

Allegra shook her head. “How is it that you can have ‘distractions’ and I can’t?”

Michelle kept her gaze on the clumsy hot guy, who noticed her studying him and nearly dropped his beer. “Because you don’t have distractions, my friend. I can’t count on half the fingers of one hand the amount of times you’ve been in a relationship. And I know for a fact you’ve never had a one-night stand. You take men far too seriously.” She rose from her chair. “I’m gonna go grab some drinks for us. We can talk about all the reasons you should avoid one particular troublemaker when I get back.”

Michelle walked away, and a knot formed in Allegra’s stomach. What was Michelle not telling her? Was it more than fear that a Casanova would break her heart that kept Michelle protesting her choice? And where were Ben and Rousseau?

“Would you like to dance?”

She looked up at a twentysomething man with light brown hair and an open smile. He obviously hadn’t seen her walk in, or he wouldn’t be asking. Before she could shake her head and thank him for the offer, someone appeared at his side, towering over him.

“She is already taken,
mon petit.
Why don’t you go ask your friend over there to dance? He doesn’t look too happy to see you with us.”

The young man’s face turned beet red, his eyes widening and lips parting as he studied the magnetic man who’d spoken. She’d know that sexy voice blindfolded. Allegra didn’t blame him for the once-over he gave Rousseau.

Sexuality rolled off him like heated steam. And he stood with a sensual confidence that she’d never seen in him before. Dangerously appealing. She imagined he was just as irresistible to the men in the room as he was to the women.

To her.

Rousseau arched one perfect brow. “The other friends you came with already know, little man. Why deny yourself the pleasure of his touch any longer? Dance with him.”

Allegra felt her jaw drop when her would-be dance partner spun on his heel without hesitation, heading back to his table and holding out his hand to a shy, surprised-looking Latino. “How did you know?”

Rousseau shrugged, his gaze glued to the two males who walked to the dance floor, their steps slow, as though unsure whether they were headed to the guillotine or salvation. “He was easy to read. He just needed someone to give him permission to follow his passions. The same as every other human I know.”

She wondered if he’d been drinking. Ben said he was different away from the café, but he seemed . . . transformed. His gaze clashed with hers and her heart skipped a beat.

“Your eyes.”

“Can only see you,
cher
. Dance with me, I need to touch you.”

Her thoughts were muddled, confused. His eyes—she’d thought they were hazel, but now they seemed more golden. Amber with flecks of green. He called her
cher
. Darling. And he wanted to . . . dance? Her hand searched for her cane where it rested against her chair. “I’m not sure you know what you’re letting yourself in for. I can’t really dance like I used to.”

“We won’t really be dancing. And you won’t need that,
cher
. Not with me.” He took her hand from the rounded top of the walking stick and lifted her easily from her seat.

She felt as though she were floating toward the middle of the dance floor, the toe-tapping jazz tune that had been playing giving way to a slow, sultry melody.

Her eyes closed at the first press of his body against hers. He was so hot. Blazing. One of his hands slid down her back and cupped her hip, dragging her closer. And hard. Oh God, he was so big and hard.

“Do you like what you feel, Allegra? So do I.” He nuzzled her neck and growled softly. “I’ve wanted you this close from the moment I saw you. Only in a perfect world, you wouldn’t have any clothes on at all, and I’d be inside you.”

She shuddered at the image, her laughter huffing against his temple as he pressed a kiss to her chin. “I’d feel a little awkward if I was naked in the middle of a crowded club.”

He pulled back and she opened her eyes to see his golden gaze, so like a cat’s, focusing on her lips. “You’d never notice. Or if you did, you wouldn’t care. I know you’ve fantasized about it, Allegra. Watching and being watched.”

She shook her head. It was impossible to concentrate on much beyond the feel of his shoulders beneath her hands, his body swaying, chest brushing against her sensitive nipples. Who was this man and what had he done with her hesitant Rousseau? Not that she was complaining. She was just in shock. “I don’t think I’d like an audience when I lose control. My fantasies aren’t
that
wild.”

Had he spoken? She wasn’t sure. The room seemed to tilt on its side, the sounds all around her suddenly muted echoes. Rousseau took a step back, tugging his black T-shirt over his head and dropping it to the floor, baring his smooth dusky chest to her gaze.

Damn, he was gorgeous.

She could see his tattoos clearly now, covering both his arms, lining his collarbone. She gasped in fascination when she saw the small metal rings piercing his nipples. His fingers reached up and tugged one of the loops, and he bit his lip in obvious pleasure, drawing her gaze to his beautiful mouth. “Do you like,
cher
?”

She glanced around nervously, wondering if anyone was watching his impromptu strip show. And they were. The dance floor was cleared and the crowd who’d been dancing beside them had formed a circle around them, watching as they touched each other, or themselves.

Rousseau cupped her cheek to turn her attention back to him. His fingers slid down her neck, inside the vee of her neckline and yanked, tearing the sheer shirt down the middle, along with the red tank top she was wearing beneath it.

“What the hell?” She tried to grab the edges of her shirt and pull them together, but she wasn’t fast enough.

He gripped her arms and pulled her close, nibbling on her lower lip until she was trembling. “Not hell,
cher
. Heaven.
Your
fantasies. And theirs. All your deepest, hidden desires. Ah, Allegra, I knew you were a bad girl.”

He lifted her breasts and plucked at her long nipples, moaning against her mouth. “Your nipples should be pierced. You’re so sensitive here you might even come as they put them in. Not rings though. Maybe small bars that I could twist with my tongue.”

He turned her around to face the crowd once more, bared to their avid gazes. Pierced? Her fantasies? His touch was swiftly turning her brain to pudding, and her inhibitions to dust.

A lusty groan drew her attention to the young man who’d had to work up the courage to ask his male friend to dance in public. What a difference a dance made. The Latino boy with the shy expression had his head thrown back in ecstasy, his body bent over the booth where all his friends were sitting as his lover fucked him from behind, slender hips pumping with the power of their need.

“Passion is sacred in all its forms, is it not,
cher
? Nothing that feels that good should be taboo.” He cupped her breasts from behind, his breath hot against her shoulder as she watched the two men together, unaware of anything but each other. “Does it surprise you that I know? That the sight of them together only fuels the desire you’ve kindled?”

It should, but it didn’t. She felt drunk, drugged, and thoroughly aroused at the scene playing out before her eyes. She hadn’t thought about two men together being sensual, but seeing them, their two lean, masculine bodies straining together, their need for each other clear for all to see . . . it was beautiful. It made her want Rousseau’s touch. Made her want more.

Allegra turned away from the climaxing couple to see a women facedown, her body lying across the laps of two men in business suits. Her pencil skirt had been tugged up over her hips, her white silk panties tugged down as the men took turns spanking the flushing cheeks of her ass. The woman was crying out her pleasure.

“You like that, don’t you, Allegra? You like the idea of the forbidden. So do they. People’s secret desires are often surprising, even to me, even after all these centuries. Yours most of all. And I find I’m having a hard time controlling
my
desire to see if you’re wearing those pink lace panties that I love.”

She felt the breeze on her hard nipples, between her thighs, before she became aware enough to pull her gaze away from the woman being smacked into orgasm and looked down at herself. Rousseau had lifted her loose skirt and tucked the hem into the waistband, leaving her body visible to the room. Everyone could see her scar-ravaged knee, her pale skin, her small breasts topped by long, pink nipples . . . and her peach lace panties. And she didn’t care. She wanted them to look. Wanted to be seen.

“You are brave, aren’t you? Lovely. This color suits you,
cher
. Perfect for such biteable curves. Now I have a sudden longing for peaches.”

“I don’t have any curves.” Her voice cracked when his hot palm cupped her lace-covered sex. “Rousseau . . . that feels . . .”

“You have all the curves you need to drive a man wild with the need to touch you. I could make you come now, right here, in front of all these people. Make you scream with it. Have you begging for more.” His voice was gravel-rough against her ear, his bare cock sliding against the lace. When had he taken off his jeans?

She was about to beg him to do it, to make her scream, anything he wanted, when she noticed someone had come closer to them on the dance floor. Ben Adair.

He licked his lower lip, his eyes on Rousseau’s fingers as they slipped beneath the flimsy fabric to tangle in her strawberry curls. She couldn’t contain her whimper when Ben undid the top button of his jeans, then the next, his own impressive erection straining against the denim.

“He’s gotten to you, hasn’t he? The idea of it. Of all of us together. We’ve shared women before, but never one so full of untapped passion. Never one so strong in her need.”

They’d shared women before. The words penetrated the sensual fog surrounding her, but she couldn’t make herself pull away. Was she a game to them? Just another notch? Did she even care?

“No. You are more, Allegra Jarrod. All you have to do is tell me what you want, and it’s yours.”

“I want . . .” Suddenly Michelle was there, blocking her view of Ben, kneeling at his feet as she took his cock into her mouth. Michelle? Ben moaned loud and long, his hands fisting in her curls, hips thrusting helplessly against her as she took him deep. Oh God, that shouldn’t be turning her on, should it?