I opened the door to fiery wet darkness and stared into deep violet shadows.
"I told you that I was working tonight." My heart went flippy dippy when I saw Luca standing there.
"I wasn't about to leave you alone in the hurricane." Luca said.
"Yes, it's not turned out to be the drama that the 24/7 bleating heads reported." I ached to invite him in.
"Nevertheless, I didn't want you to be alone."
"It's been me and Santa for so many years now," I said and bent to stroke my Golden Shaded Persian's head. She particularly like to be caressed between her eyes. I guess that it was her third eye too, I mused. I tried not to focus on Luca's height that filled the storm soaked doorway to my Riverside Drive brownstone apartment. I wanted to kiss him in the center of the storm and to run my hands over his carved chest, and lick away every raindrop. But I wasn't emotional. No, not me.
I had tried to reach the reporter with whom I'd been speaking. I supposed that was naive. She could possibly use any portion of my story and that would bring a deluge of negative attention to the American Opera Center. Not much to tell, just two preternatural, magnificent men, oh and they were supernatural. But I wasn't sure what kind of supernaturals that they were. That's why I called the reporter in the first place. I'd heard about her blog about supernatural creatures in the classical music community. At first I'd laughed. That was before I'd experienced Phisto's focused fury, and kisses that made my head spin while my body wanted to tear at his clothes and couple on the floor.
And there was Luca. His eyes pulled me into the shadows of silence, where I floated in a milky way of comfort. I'd felt like I'd been kissed all over by nightshade petals, and that was before his lips touched mine. Kissing him was like swirling in the center of a tornado. It sucked all of my breath, but I was so intensely excited that I barely noticed. All there was, was Luca.
Luca kissed my rain splattered face before he focused on my mouth. The first touch was explosive. I felt as though I understood then how perfectly my woman's body was wired. His touch shot heat through my breasts and other more intimate parts of my body. I felt my body opening to him and wanting to merge with his. We stood in my doorway until our clothes were wet and clung to us like film. Luca carried me into my apartment and laid me my bed. It was the first time that we were in my bedroom together.
I'd forgotten to close the window and the wind hissed through the screen and rain slashed across my maple floors. I then became absorbed with Luca and wrapped in his kisses, and arms and tongue. I didn't see Phisto's face contorted in rage as the lightening slashed across his exposed blood teeth and he howled into the thunder.
I think that I may have run even run from Luca, had I seen that. But I heard Santa howling at the window and heard her hearty hissing.
"I told you that I was working tonight." My heart went flippy dippy when I saw Luca standing there.
"I wasn't about to leave you alone in the hurricane." Luca said.
"Yes, it's not turned out to be the drama that the 24/7 bleating heads reported." I ached to invite him in.
"Nevertheless, I didn't want you to be alone."
"It's been me and Santa for so many years now," I said and bent to stroke my Golden Shaded Persian's head. She particularly like to be caressed between her eyes. I guess that it was her third eye too, I mused. I tried not to focus on Luca's height that filled the storm soaked doorway to my Riverside Drive brownstone apartment. I wanted to kiss him in the center of the storm and to run my hands over his carved chest, and lick away every raindrop. But I wasn't emotional. No, not me.
I had tried to reach the reporter with whom I'd been speaking. I supposed that was naive. She could possibly use any portion of my story and that would bring a deluge of negative attention to the American Opera Center. Not much to tell, just two preternatural, magnificent men, oh and they were supernatural. But I wasn't sure what kind of supernaturals that they were. That's why I called the reporter in the first place. I'd heard about her blog about supernatural creatures in the classical music community. At first I'd laughed. That was before I'd experienced Phisto's focused fury, and kisses that made my head spin while my body wanted to tear at his clothes and couple on the floor.
And there was Luca. His eyes pulled me into the shadows of silence, where I floated in a milky way of comfort. I'd felt like I'd been kissed all over by nightshade petals, and that was before his lips touched mine. Kissing him was like swirling in the center of a tornado. It sucked all of my breath, but I was so intensely excited that I barely noticed. All there was, was Luca.
Luca kissed my rain splattered face before he focused on my mouth. The first touch was explosive. I felt as though I understood then how perfectly my woman's body was wired. His touch shot heat through my breasts and other more intimate parts of my body. I felt my body opening to him and wanting to merge with his. We stood in my doorway until our clothes were wet and clung to us like film. Luca carried me into my apartment and laid me my bed. It was the first time that we were in my bedroom together.
I'd forgotten to close the window and the wind hissed through the screen and rain slashed across my maple floors. I then became absorbed with Luca and wrapped in his kisses, and arms and tongue. I didn't see Phisto's face contorted in rage as the lightening slashed across his exposed blood teeth and he howled into the thunder.
I think that I may have run even run from Luca, had I seen that. But I heard Santa howling at the window and heard her hearty hissing.
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