Genie Knows Best (Magically Ever After Book 5), page 11
God, she wished he’d touch her.
And, then, suddenly, he was. Had she uttered that wish out loud or could he read minds?
Samantha didn’t know, and, oh God, she didn’t care. She wanted this. And Kal knew just how to touch her.
His fingers stroked along the sides of her aching breasts, his thumbs circling on her nipples as his tongue did the same thing to hers. Samantha’s legs gave out and she had to brace herself on the table so she wouldn’t fall on top of him—which would be a tragedy only because he’d have to stop doing all the delicious things he was doing.
He tweaked the pebbled tip, a straight shot of desire down to her core.
“Kal,” she panted against his lips.
“Yes, Sam?”
“I want you.” She surprised herself with that, because it wasn’t like her to be so upfront, but, oh, God, with him… She really did want him and saying it seemed like the most natural thing in the world.
So did the nip he gave her jaw. “Good. Because I can’t get enough of you.”
Yeah, she got that. Samantha dug her hands into his hair and captured his lips, then ran the fingers of one hand down his chest, playing with his nipple every bit as torturously deliciously as he’d done to hers.
He groaned and fell back onto the table, pulling her with him, and kissed her, catching her bottom lip between his teeth.
Samantha’s eyes flared open—and she saw him watching her, twin flames of desire burning in his gaze, his eyes so dark they were almost black.
She tweaked his nipple again and was rewarded by his groan.
She slid her lips to his throat, the musky damp taste turning her legs to jelly.
Kal’s palm found her butt and he helped her stay vertical.
“It’s like you can read my mind,” she breathed against his skin.
Kal flexed his fingers. “No, that’s Sven’s talent. Mine is knowing how I want to touch you.” One finger slid between her legs and Samantha moved her hips just enough that it’d find the place she so desperately needed it to. “Gods, Sam, do you know how long I’ve imagined this? How long I’ve wanted you?”
She shook her head, running her teeth along his collarbone. He hissed. “No, Kal, I have no idea. I didn’t know you existed before today.” A serious shame.
“But I’ve known all about you.” He slid the backs of his fingertips along her arm, capturing her hand and intertwining his fingers with hers. “I’ve wanted you for years.”
Butterflies did the polka in her belly, fluttering away any reservations she had about any of this. She propped her chin on his chest and met his gaze. “Now’s your chance.”
The gurgle of water punctuated a silence broken only by Kal’s harsh indrawn breath. “You’re sure, Sam? No question?”
She shook her head and threw caution—and her normally conservative scruples—to the wind. “The only one I have is… are we going to do this here?”
Kal smiled that half-smile that turned her insides to mush. “No, Sam. The question is, where shall I put the bed?”
She let her fingers trail over his abs. “I like the way you think.”
“That’s my line.”
“No lines, Kal.” Her voice was serious.
Kal’s eyes lost their good-natured twinkle and grew serious. “That’s right, Sam. No lines. No pretences. Just you and me and what’s between us.”
She wished he’d kiss her already.
And then he was.
If he wasn’t reading her mind, she must have uttered that out loud, and frankly, she didn’t care.
He wrapped one arm across her back, pinning her to his chest, then spread his other hand over her backside and lifted her so her legs were between his.
Oh he wanted her all right.
Samantha wiggled against him, her body completely aware of where this was leading, her mind in full agreement, and her hormones singing the Hallelujah Chorus.
Kal drew his fingers up the crease of her backside slowly, the gauzy fabric heightening the sensation, the action pulling her thong just a little snugger against her. Samantha could feel herself growing damp, could feel the ache growing until she wanted to spread her legs and straddle him.
But Kal wouldn’t let her. He hooked one leg over hers and repeated the action.
She panted against him in sweet torture. “Kal…”
“What is your wish, Sam?”
She shook her head. “Not a wish. A desire. I have to do something. Touch you. See you. Move.”
“All right, Sam—”
“Not here, Kismet! In that courtyard over there!”
The high-pitched voice could only belong to one person. Er, thing. Being.
Fox.
Not that it mattered who it belonged to—Samantha shot up as if she’d been electrified, flung herself off Kal, and only by the grace of God—and Kal’s women-catching ability—did she not take a header onto the floor, somehow managing to make it to her feet and over to the pedestal with the harp before the fox and his mode of transportation soared into view.
“Hi, guys! I mean, lady and guy! Hi, Samantha! I didn’t know you played the harp.”
Dirham waved from Kismet’s back while Samantha tried to catch her breath—and make sure all pertinent parts were covered. The one time she let her libido take over…
“Kal, can I come down there? I don’t want to take advantage of Kissy’s hospitality. She’s a double hero, you know. Saved me from a fiery death twice today.”
Kal glanced at Samantha and she nodded. As if she could say anything— both literally and figuratively because her breath was still AWOL, and as for her tongue… it was still tied.
“Sure thing, Dir.” Kal sat up, and Samantha almost lost her ability to think with the ripple of his abs and the contraction of his thigh muscles as the towel slid along his leg.
Dirham leapt from Kismet’s back onto Samantha’s chair while Kal raised an eyebrow and slowly—reeeeally slowly—dragged the towel onto his lap.
Samantha’s mouth was as dry as the desert around them by the time it was back in place.
Dirham crawled out from beneath Samantha’s chair with Kal’s lantern in his mouth. “Hey, you don’t want to lose this, Samantha. Lose it and you’ll lose Kal.”
She was losing something: her mind, her inhibitions, and now Kal’s lantern.
Losing the lantern would be the worst part.
She felt Kal’s gaze on her and looked up to find his dark eyes so intense that they went beyond warm and chocolate-y to twin pieces of coal with all the accompanying heat, and she shivered.
“Is there anything to eat around here?” Dirham hopped onto the table beside Kal, his paws pulling the towel dangerously to the side again. Dangerous for both the fox’s modesty and her libido. She didn’t think Kal would complain.
“There’s food through that door, Dir,” Kal answered, his voice husky, the quick grin he gave her proving her theory. “Help yourself.”
He wasn’t talking to the fox.
Dirham leapt off the table and was halfway to the door when he stopped—which was probably a good thing since, thanks to Kal’s gaze being hot enough to sear straight through her clothes and ignite every nerve ending she possessed, there was no telling what Dirham might interrupt when he came back.
“Oh, darn, I can’t. I’m supposed to tell you that you guys have a command performance downtown,” Dirham said. “Someone big wants to speak with you.”
“How big?” Samantha was thinking ogres. Or trolls. She still didn’t know what Orkney was and which was bigger. Or were there giants here, too?
“Who is it, Dirham?” Kal tossed a fig at the fox.
Samantha looked around—where had that come from?
The fox pounced on the fruit like a cat with a toy, then balanced it on the end of his nose, spinning it with a paw like a basketball. “Stavros didn’t say. He just told me to tell you guys to get back pronto. ‘For a history-making visit’ is what he said.” Dirham flipped the fig into the air and caught it between his teeth, then munched on it. “Coming?”
Not yet…
Samantha made the mistake of looking at Kal, who did his non-mind-reading thing again and winked at her.
“We’ll be along shortly, Dir.” Kal raised himself to sitting on the table. The towel pooled at just the right place, but it left his entire right flank bare and Samantha had to work really hard to not stare. God, he was magnificent. “I have to get dressed.”
Oh no he didn’t.
“Okay. But I don’t have a ride back. I thought I’d go back with you guys.”
“I guess that’ll work.” Kal tossed another fig to her, slid to the edge of the table, and stood, knowing full well the view of his backside Samantha was getting—she could tell from that half-smile and the quick glance he sent her.
Tease.
He winked again.
That had all sorts of possibilities—one she planned on taking full advantage of as soon as they got to town.
And then they got to town.
Chapter 14
Samantha wouldn’t be taking advantage of anything any time soon.
Kal flew them back in the Mercedes, heading in for a landing on the oval marble platform at the end of the main road, simply because there was no other place to land.
A parade was in full swing down Main Street, er, Palm Street, and thousands of Izaaz’s inhabitants lined it, waving colorful banners as if they were the Munchkins awaiting Glinda’s arrival. Matter of fact, one group actually did look like the Lollipop Guild.
Dirham, as usual, was bouncing. On the dashboard in front of her, then onto the space between the seats, then to the luggage shelf in the back; the fox was all over the place.
“Didn’t I tell you? Didn’t I? Do you like your surprise? Look how great this place looks. See that building over there that you fixed up? That’s where my friend George lived before he went off to slay that crocodile. Then you know how that story somehow converted the croc to a dragon? Well, he had to go away to hide from all the celebrity. And Maille, too. She wasn’t all that thrilled, no matter how much we tried to explain the misunderstanding to her. But we had some good times there in the old days, me and George.”
George? Dragon? Samantha didn’t want to make that connection or even try to understand what Dirham was talking about.
“And over there in that courtyard? That’s where I saw my first-ever manticore. They’re rare, you know, Samantha. They don’t like large crowds. And over there, me, Remus, and his brother found one of Mayat’s amulets lying on that bench. We took it to Stavros, of course. He gave us some baklava as a reward.” Dirham’s tongue circled his snout. “I love baklava.”
“I’ll put that on my next wish list,” Samantha said, patting him. “Matter of fact… Kal? I’d like to wish for a baklava bakery for Dirham.”
Something—a grimace?—flashed across Kal’s face so quickly that Samantha wasn’t sure if she’d imagined it or not.
But he was smiling now, even had a little chuckle going as he waved his hand and glitter sprinkled the car. “Sixth and Acanthus, Dir. It even has a fox door around back.”
Samantha did a double-take at the fox door but let her comment go when she heard what the crowd was chanting, “Sa-man-tha! Sa-man-tha!”
“What’s going on?” It was more than a little unsettling to have a crowd of thousands calling her name. They’d already thanked her for fixing up the place; what more could they possibly want?
That they wanted more was a given.
Call her jaded—she was—but she didn’t open the door.
Unfortunately, Kal did it for her with a wave of his hand. Having a genie to see to your every whim, presumed or otherwise, wasn’t necessarily all it was cracked up to be.
“Your public awaits, m’lady,” he said.
“Sa-man-tha!” Their chants ratcheted up to full-on scream when the door swung upward. “Sa-man-tha!”
“That’s a good thing?”
“’Course it is!” Dirham bounded onto her lap, then out of the car. “Come on! Let’s go enjoy your parade! Look at all the pretty colors!”
Colors were not Samantha’s focus as she climbed out of the car. Kal was right there to help her, but, surprisingly, even he wasn’t her focus.
Nor were the unicorns, centaurs, ogre/trolls, gnomes, leprechauns, satyrs, or any of the other beings that were now normal to her.
Even the new creatures: birds as large as Kismet, half-bull/half-human creatures, Pan and his family, walking, talking Sphinxes, other birds that looked like dodo birds she’d seen in books, a bunch of yetis, and Bigfoot—Bigfeet maybe. And a pair of three-headed dogs—did that make them a six pack? And goblins and gremlins and gorgons, oh my. And all of them were repeating her name and flourishing banners as if she were visiting royalty.
But she wasn’t. No, the reason they were excited was because of what she’d done for them. And what more she could do.
It was the same thing all over again. Different place but still the same. And this time, her name wasn’t even attached to it. They were cheering her for something Kal had done.
Oh, sure, she was the one who’d wished it, but, as Stavros had said, only a genie could have pulled the whole thing off. She was merely the vessel through which Kal could work his magic; anyone else could have done the same.
She really was useless. Just like Albert had said.
Kal flicked his fingers, and the car disappeared in a shower of orange glitter, eliciting another roar of approval from the crowd. Then he intertwined his fingers with hers and Samantha tried to muster a smile, but the truth was hitting her hard.
All her life, she’d been the window dressing. The gatekeeper to the Blaine vaults. Easy access to her father. The so-called friends who’d always been up for the next party or vacation—as long as she picked up the tab. The boyfriends who’d been after only one thing (and not what most mothers warned their daughters about), and Albert. He’d been the biggest offender. Not only was she useless, but she was clueless. Just like he’d said.
One of Pan’s fauns trotted up the steps on pink-polished hooves, pulling a suit jacket over her white tuxedo shirt, and taking a pad and pencil from the breast pocket. She palmed something that looked like a hairbrush from another pocket and stuck it in Samantha’s face, bottom end up, like Samantha used to do as a teenager in front of her bedroom mirror with a Walkman blasting in her ears.
This scenario was just as fake.
“What’s next, Samantha?” the faun yelled above the noise. “What can we expect to see in the coming days? Do you have any more plans?”
Samantha stepped back. Plans? Right now she was dealing with the here and now and the demoralizing realization that she didn’t seem to have a purpose to her life, a fact she probably had known but had repressed since that knowledge almost cut her in two.
Samantha slid her hands around her waist, the lantern dinging her hip. The microphone hung there for an uncomfortable silence until Kal whispered something to the faun that got her to remove it and trot back down the steps.
He slid his hand beneath Samantha’s elbow. “Are you okay, Sam?”
Never let them see you sweat. She hadn’t let Albert see her break down, and she wouldn’t let the citizens of Izaaz.
Or Kal.
She plastered a smile on her face and nodded. “I’m fine, Kal. Let’s go greet your public.”
Kal looked at her strangely but didn’t have the chance to say anything as a group of fairies as tall as four-year-olds (but who definitely didn’t look like four-year-olds in the flimsy, filmy toga-y things they wore) flew up the steps with leis of beautiful orchids in their hands.
Samantha bent down to accept the delicate gift, her emotions just as fragile. “Thank you,” she whispered, her throat clogged with those emotions. She was a fraud. Window dressing yet again.
Oh, she knew no one cared; as long as she gave them what they wanted, they were content. But she wasn’t. She didn’t want to be arm candy, an ornament accepted only because she looked the part or had the money or magic behind her. She wanted to be the part.
But without Kal, she had as much chance of that as Dirham did of besting a dragon.
The crash of cymbals accompanied by a quick tempo of drumbeats put an end to that thought none too soon. The last thing she needed was to fall apart in front of the entire population of Izaaz.
Kal moved next to her, and Samantha took a shuddering breath as the sea of people below them parted. She would get through this; she’d had lots of practice.
A parade came down the street. Miniature blond horses like Lipizzaner stallions with lion-headed, monkey-like tamarins on their saddles and a herd of antelopes with bells on their twisted antlers led the way, followed by a bevy of belly dancers, the finger cymbals and silver bangles on their swishing hips marking the drums’ downbeat in time with the crowd’s clapping. Several dozen musicians strummed rounded, guitar-like instruments or blew into long reed ones, and others shook U-shaped pieces of metal with jangling rings like tambourines.
Behind the musicians, dozens of people followed a palanquin carried by six centaurs, its occupant shielded from view by layers of pastel chiffon veils. A pair of servants held ostrich-feather fans over the procession in a showy display of grandeur, but they were too far removed to be effective.
Samantha could so relate. Without Kal’s magic, she’d be just as ineffective. Just as obsolete. Without her wishes, she’d be nobody.
The parade stopped at the bottom of the stairway. The centaurs rotated the litter to the side, then knelt on their front legs. The fairies who’d greeted her and Kal flew down to peel the veils from the seating area of the palanquin.
A tanned, gnarled old man dressed in silk robes and a turban climbed from the interior, and the crowd segued from Samantha’s name to, “Ber-o-sus! Ber-o-sus!”
The old man clapped his hands and a dozen dwarves dashed out of the building closest to the stairway, each carrying a stone. In no time flat, they’d constructed a bridge so he could reach the stairway without having to step foot on the ground.
