The knob turned.
First thing he noticed was a shiny pair of black thigh high boots with heels so high she seemed to tower in the doorway. A black and navy blue cape fluttered behind her, hanging well past her knees.
He swallowed, tongue thick, as his gaze continued the slow slide up. Silvery black spandex covered her torso and chest, reminding him of a bustier. His fingers flexed hard around the ceramic. The top pushed her breasts up and out, her exquisite mounds, plump and firm, and begging for a man’s touch. His touch.
Betty’s hair hung long and loose around her shoulders, framing her heart shaped face. But it was the silk mask tied around her eyes that made his pulse race and knees tremble for want of her. Glowing blue eyes stared back at him from behind the mask, as electric as a hot bolt of lightning. He’d have laughed at the ridiculous circlet on her head, the two circles-- one golden, the other black-- had it not been for those eyes.
What had she done? What magic had she used? “Your eyes, Cherie?” he said, his voice sounded thick to his ears.
She smiled, and for the first time ever, he noticed a slight dimple curve a sickle shape in her right cheek.
“It’s contacts.” She tossed her head, sending her curls flying behind her. “You like?”
Gerard shot to his feet, gripping the cup like his life depended on it. For a moment, one moment to be free of Galeta’s bloody curse, he’d throw Betty down on the bed and make her sing for him. “I like.”
The heart pendant sparkled deeper shades of Indigo. Did she know? Could she sense the change? Gerard’s only thought was of his freedom, saving his life. He ground his molars-- confused if that’s really what he wanted anymore.
He could hardly breathe around the heat of her gaze. The room grew thick and cloying, filled with an impossible tension. Like stepping out in a storm only seconds after a lightning strike-- ozone laced air still shivering with raw volts of power.
Betty walked to him, but he couldn’t move. His heart beat a painful rhythm in his chest, demanding he do something, demanding he take control as he’d so often done before. But he wasn’t in control, she stripped him bare, made him forget who he was, what he was. All he knew in that moment, was that Betty was the most divine creation he’d ever seen.
Her fingers grazed his, and for a moment he thought she’d push him down on the bed. But instead she yanked the cup out of his hands and with a saucy wink, drank.
Her throat worked as she swallowed, and he shifted toward her, moving like shaved iron into her magnetic pull. “You know I like that.”
Ruby red lips curled up into a slow smile. “Like what?”
“Your lips and tongue touching the same spot mine did. It’s like a kiss, Cherie.”
The cup visibly shook in her hands, sloshing the drink. “This is coffee,” she said it breathless, voice hitched and strained.
He nodded, stealing the cup back and setting it on the night stand. “I’ve developed a craving.”
“For coffee?” her whisper feathered across his lips like a caress.
Gerard grabbed her face, the softness of her skin like silk against his rough palms. “So soft. Mon ange.” His angel, and she was that. Then there was no more talking, only tasting.
He moved his mouth against hers, the smooth friction made him groan. Her lips were the softest satin. “Open for me, Cherie.”
Betty’s fingers found his shirt, she bunched the fabric in her fists and moaned, it was enough. Gerard licked, tasted, and suckled. Her tongue tasted of mint and coffee-- both sweet and bitter. She clawed at his head with the frenzy of a woman desperate for more, he slipped his tongue into the warm recess of her mouth, their tongues dueled. A mating pantomime-- each seeking dominance, each expressing with moans and guttural sounds how much they’d longed for this.
Too soon she broke away. Gerard was left panting, his forehead pressed against hers, willing his body to stop trembling.
“Briley,” she said her nephew’s name with a regretful sigh.
Gerard didn’t want to stop touching her, he rubbed his bristly cheek against her smooth one. Betty’s hands crawled under his shirt, her nails scratching lightly at his back, and gods he didn’t want to leave this room. He wanted her all to himself, all day, all night.
But this was important to her.
“This isn’t over, Cherie,” he promised, his thumb tracing the plump swell of her bottom lip. “Not by a long shot.”
***