Burn (Indigo) Page 24

  Both hands clutching his throat, he fell to the mat, noisily gasping for air. On his elbows and knees, he scuttled away from Cinder. The audience roared and cheered as Duff Brownley announced, “Point, Vixen!”

  “Ten seconds, Caveman,” the referee told him. “Get on your feet or forfeit the match.”

  Karl used every one of his ten seconds to recover before regaining his footing. His upper lip curled into a snarl. He breathed in short, hard snorts, like an angry bull. He seemed to shudder with anger in the center of the mat, and when the referee restarted the match, he lunged at Cinder.

  She calmly ducked under his right arm. His momentum carried him forward, but she helped him along with a jab to his back from her right elbow.

  “Point, Vixen!”

  Duff Brownley’s excited cry riled the audience. Cheers and applause shook the venue.

  Gian, one hand cupping his elbow, the other covering his mouth, allowed himself a very brief moment of relief. “One more point, baby,” he whispered. “One more point and you’re outta there.”

  On the mat, the fighters reset. Karl’s arm muscles hardened, his knees seemed to bounce in his eagerness to resume the fight. At the ref’s whistle, he bellowed and charged. He threw his punches faster, mixing in kicks that Cinder barely avoided. His longer arms and legs gave him an advantage, but she negated it with her calm focus.

  Karl’s blows crashed into her forearms, his vicious kicks glanced hard off the outside of her knees and hips. The angrier he got, the sloppier he fought. He was taller, heavier, more determined to hurt her. Cinder fought back with speed, agility, and unerring focus. She prowled, taking advantage of every opening Karl gave her. The complicated dance of battle lasted for six full minutes before Karl ratcheted up his intent. Arms upraised, he brought both hands down in a strike meant to hit both of Cinder’s shoulders at the same time. Such a strike would have brought her to the mat, where she would have been within range of a dozen debilitating strikes from Karl’s feet.

  Before his hands could make contact with her shoulders, Cinder initiated a front low kick. It landed in his midsection, driving him back. She took two quick steps and let her right leg fly in a high kick to Karl’s face.

  Performed correctly, such a kick could deliver six hundred and fifty pounds of force. Cinder had no idea if her kick was that powerful, but it was strong enough to send Karl’s head snapping back, his huge body following. He hit the mat like a bag of wet sand.

  “Point three and match, Vixen!” whooped Duff Brownley.

  The arena shook with cheers, applause, and rock music. The Sheng Li contingent rushed the center mat. Cinder leaped off the dais and into Gian’s arms. He hugged her, kissing her as he whirled her in a circle.

  “Finally, the warrior in you woke up!” Zae hollered joyfully over the noise.

  The same paramedic who had seen to Cinder’s nose tended to the unconscious Karl while she and Gian led the procession back to Sheng Li’s station. She looked into the stands and saw so many familiar faces—Natasha, her husband Kurt, and her daughters Jalesa and Danielle; Zae’s children, Eve and Dawn and her son C.J.; Mama Piasanti, Aunt Veronica, Pio and his family, and Lucia; and Sheng Li students both old and new. They celebrated her success, and Cinder had never been more proud of herself.

  She took to the awards podium and graciously accepted her gold medal. Next to her, on the second place step, Karl still looked slightly dazed as the silver medal was slipped over his head. Cory took the bronze to give Sheng Li five of the top six awards in the tournament.

  “We should go to Isis or someplace to celebrate,” Zae said afterward.

  “Sounds good to me,” Chip said.

  “I’m a little tired.” Cinder smiled. “I’m gonna pass.”

  Gian looked at Cinder, who sat a few feet away on the bleachers. Her gym bag stood open between her feet. Her elbows on her knees, she looked at her gold medal before dropping it into the bag. As if she’d just finished another ordinary lesson with Gian, she spent a moment mopping perspiration from her face and chest.

  “What about you, Gian? You comin’?” Chip asked.

  “No,” Gian answered. “I’ve got some business to tie up with Pritchard Hok. You guys go and have fun. If you end up at Isis, tell the manager to charge everything to my tab.”

  “Thanks, boss,” Chip said.

  “You should go with them,” Cinder told Gian as Chip and Zae led everyone else out of the arena. “This was a really big day for Sheng Li.”

  Gian squatted in front of her. He zipped up her gym bag and hung it over his shoulder as he stood. He took her hand, drawing her to her feet. She moved slowly, a little awkwardly. “The only thing I want to do right now is get you home,” he said.

  * * *

  Gian took her home. To his home.

  Too tired and in too much pain to protest, Cinder let him open the car door and help her from the front seat of his SUV. Gian’s house, a multi-level contemporary, was spacious and airy. The foyer led to an open floor plan with the chef’s kitchen on one side and the living and dining rooms on the other. Gian guided her into the kitchen. He opened a door to set their gym bags in the laundry room, then got her a bottled water. “You need to hydrate, baby,” he told her. “Drink up.”

  Cinder sipped a bit directly from the bottle.

  “Have I told you how proud I am of you?” Gian asked.

  “About ten times. Do you think Pritchard Hok was impressed?”

  “I don’t care. I couldn’t have asked for better from you guys. Whether Pritchard Hok sees it or not, I know I have the best dojo in the world.”

  Cinder smiled and nodded.

  “In ancient times, when a warrior returned from battle, he had attendants to see to his aftercare. Only his most trusted, most loyal devotees were granted that honor.”

  “Makes sense,” Cinder said softly. She sat heavily on one of the blond wooden stools at the center cooking isle. “The warrior would have been most vulnerable after a tough battle. It wouldn’t do to have enemies creeping around to take advantage of his weakness.”

  “I want to take care of you.” He took her hand and kissed the back of it. “Will you let me?”

  Gian moved between her knees. She wrapped her arms around his neck. Her legs went around his waist and Gian held her tight. She closed her eyes and rested her head on his shoulder as he carried her upstairs. “I can walk, you know,” she murmured.

  “I know.” He didn’t put her down until he reached the master bedroom. Gian set her on his bed, then kneeled at her feet. He slipped off her sneakers and socks. Cinder raised her arms to help him pull her tunic over her head. She leaned back on the bed, lifting her hips, to make it easier for him to tug off her pants.

  He exited through a pocket door on the other side of the room, and Cinder curled up on the big bed. The fluffy comforter, cool and soft against her skin, cradled her as she imagined a cloud would. Through his deep, wide windows, Cinder sleepily gazed at the rich purples and pinks of the setting sun. I could sleep for a thousand years, she thought.

  Gian had other plans.

  “Baby, come on,” he gently urged. He took her hand and walked her into the master bathroom.

  Cinder paused, stunned. The room was huge, the muted champagne, ivory, and hunter green color scheme echoing that of the master bedroom. The centerpiece of the room was a deep, wide tub recessed in the floor. A built-in bench seat draped with thick, fluffy white towels dominated the shallower end. The tub filled from the opposite end, the water flowing from set-in fixtures that lay flat against the tub wall. The tub was filling, but the arrangement of the fixtures allowed it to do so silently. Centered above the tub, three big, square skylights provided a full view of the gorgeous twilight sky.

  “Gian, your home is so beautiful,” she remarked as he peeled her sports bra and panties from her.

  “It’s missing something,” Gian said. He helped her into the tub and sat her on the bench seat.

  “What’s that?” She le
aned back, letting the water take the weight from her joints.

  “You.”

  Smiling, she closed her eyes. On his knees at the edge of the tub, Gian lathered his hands with a citrus-scented soap and worked them over her shoulders. His strong hands kneaded out the tightness before moving to her upper right arm. By the time he lifted her right leg to massage the weary muscles of her thighs, Cinder was half-asleep and half-drugged on the pure pleasure of being cared for so thoroughly.

  She let Gian wash her hair, her scalp receiving the same attention he had given the rest of her body. He rinsed her from head to toe, then bundled her in a big white towel. Back in his room, he laid her on her belly close to one edge of the bed.

  Gian wasn’t sure if she was asleep or not, but her eyes were closed with no movement behind her eyelids. Her head pillowed on her forearms, she didn’t stir when he eased onto the bed, straddling her upper thighs. He took a small bottle of oil from the pocket of his jeans, where he’d kept it throughout her bath to warm it. He poured a small quantity of the oil into his palm, then set the bottle on his nightstand.

  Gian dribbled the oil along her spine, then began working it into the muscles of her back. The faint scent of ginger and camphor rose with each stroke of his hands as the warmth of her skin activated the oil meant to replenish and heal her skin. He was careful with her hips and shoulders, where bruises were blooming.

  Her legs received special attention. He massaged them long and hard, getting rid of the lactic acid that would otherwise lead to soreness and cramping later on. Leisurely, Gian saw to every part of her, even her fingers and toes. When he was finished, he lay beside her, his right elbow propping up his head.

  The waning light of the sunset left soft strokes of color on her bare body. She was as lovely as a Rodin sculpture. Gian found that if he squinted, he could blur out all of her scars, leaving her body absolutely perfect.

  He ran his fingers over a long, smooth line of scar tissue curving from under her right breast to her back. He’d seen enough war wounds to know that something very sharp had made the cut. He counted seven more similar scars of varying lengths, even one across her left buttock, and he marveled that she’d managed to survive the blood loss that would have resulted from such wounds.

  “My warrior,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to her head. “My queen.” He smiled, a hard surge of love for her moving through his heart. “My wife.”

  Cinder stirred. She rolled onto her left side to face Gian. “Was I asleep long?”

  Gian shook his head. “About an hour. You needed it. You had a big afternoon.”

  “Gian . . . thank you.”

  He hooked a finger under her chin and stroked her lower lip with the pad of his thumb. “For what?”

  It took her a moment to figure out how to articulate the reason for her gratitude. He had given her so much more than knowledge. Respect, confidence, friendship, passion—by giving her those things, he’d given her a new foundation for her life. She couldn’t string together the proper combination of words, so she cupped the back of his head and drew him in for a kiss.

  His right arm went around her; she rolled onto her back, drawing him half atop her. Gian’s mouth came down on hers. Delicately, and with patience sorely tired by the massage he’d given her, he kissed her, the ache deep within him flaring. He rubbed her lips with his, nipping and sucking at the lower one, determined to make her ache as he did.

  Cinder’s tongue met his and he groaned, sampling the succulence of her mouth. His tongue craved the warm, wet heat of her mouth just as another part of him craved the warm, wet heat between her legs, and he positioned that solid weight on top of her. She widened her legs, thrusting upward with her hips to feel him there, at the entrance to the emptiness yearning to be filled.

  Gian’s lips moved over her as his hands had, covering her with kisses that stoked the fire deep within her. She pressed her head into a pillow, bringing Gian’s head to her left breast. He framed the soft globe in his hand, holding it in place to sup at her nipple. It hardened, lengthening with each pull of his lips. She kneaded and pinched her other nipple, multiplying her pleasure until Gian saw to it.

  Her right nipple peeked between the fingers of her right hand, and Gian needed no further invitation. He turned his attention to it, lapping at it between her busy fingers while slipping a hand between her thighs. His longest finger parted her lips, circling the sensitive flesh there without nearing the hooded treasure straining for contact. Cinder moaned and arched against him, mutely pleading for more.

  Gian didn’t give it to her, instead taking her breasts and bringing them together, to suckle both nipples at once. Cinder cried out and pounded the bed with her fists, her hips still seeking the creature coiled behind the fly of Gian’s jeans.

  He wanted to take his time, to love her with the same patience and thoroughness with which he’d cared for her body after her bath. With Cinder tugging at his shirt and kissing him with the abandon of a succubus, he couldn’t make himself wait another moment longer. With her help, his shirt and jeans came off quickly. His sports briefs and socks soon joined them on the floor.

  Skin to skin, they wrapped themselves in each other. Cinder sat astride him, holding his gaze. She took him gently with her fingertips and guided him toward her center. Gian stroked her thighs, working his hands over her hips and back to her buttocks. He spread her wide as she lowered herself on him, stopping halfway.

  Reaching back, she gripped his shins to steady herself as she pumped her hips in hard, short strokes, allowing his swollen cap to massage the internal bed of nerves pre vious lovers had never found. She moaned in blissful agony, keen waves of pleasure radiating to her limbs.

  Gian raised his hips and her along with them, eager to plunge himself completely within her. Cinder, her head lolling back on her shoulders, closed her eyes and concentrated on squeezing him with each upward stroke.

  Gian gritted his teeth so hard it hurt, every part of him aching for more. Without dislodging himself from her, he sat up, forcing her weight onto him. Impaled, Cinder cried out and fastened her arms tight around his neck, her legs firmly around his waist. Gian gripped her hips, aiding the movement of her strong thighs as she raised and lowered herself, faster and faster until the solid bed began to creak.

  He buried his face in her neck, reveling in the utter pleasure of their union. Her breasts flattened against his chest, her breath came hard and heavy in his left ear. Her tongue snaked out and traced the shell of his ear before she suckled his earlobe. The sensual simplicity of it triggered a reaction that zoomed straight to his loins, and he erupted with a ragged groan. His body stiffened, his thighs and buttocks hardening, his arms tightening around her. He pumped himself into her until he felt himself shrinking. Not quite ready to exit her slick temple, he eased a hand between them and found the slippery hood at the apex of their union. He drew it back, just enough to expose the treasure beneath it to the friction provided by his coarse nest of hair.

  A rolling, guttural moan issued from Cinder’s throat. She shifted her hips, working them in tiny circles with each forward movement. Gian brought her left breast to his lips and clamped the nipple between his teeth. Quick flicks across it with the tip of his tongue jolted Cinder to a climax that left her frozen but for the pulsing of the muscles imprisoning Gian.

  With a ragged cry, she pressed her face to his neck, kissing beads of sweat from his skin. Behind her closed eyelids, she saw every color, each shattering into a kaleidoscope of blissful sensation. As the colors faded, so did the intensity of her orgasm. She held onto Gian, pumping her hips into his to achieve it once more.

  Gian spent a second cursing the failings of the male anatomy and its inability to recover as quickly as women did. But what his soldier couldn’t give her, another part of him could. He laid her on her back, earning a short noise of protest from Cinder when he pulled out. He quickly settled between her thighs, hooking them over his shoulders.

  Long, firm strokes of his ton
gue sent her fingers burrowing in his hair. Her fingernails dug into his scalp; her strangled groans answered each lick and nip at her overly sensitive flesh. His tongue found the hard seed from which her rapture would bloom, and he sucked it, starting her hips bucking. Gian curled his arms around her thighs to keep her from breaking contact with his mouth.

  Panting, she tugged at his hair, the muscles of her abdomen bunching as she tried to sit up. Relentless, Gian continued, gently scraping his upper teeth against her most sensitive place while his tongue thrust into her.

  “Gian,” she gasped sharply. “Please! It’s too much! . . . . . . . .”

  He took her hardened pellet between his teeth. Not hard, but with enough pressure to force broken grunts of mindless bliss from her. As if an electric charge had been administered to her, her body went rigid, then twitched. Over and over, her backside clenched, her hips rose and her abdominal muscles contracted.

  Cinder melted. Her arms and legs turned to pudding, she lay on the bed, completely helpless in the aftermath of perfect pleasure. Tears trickled toward her ears.

  “Sweetie, what’s the matter? Did I hurt you?

  She shook her head and mustered a smile for him. “I always suspected something better or stronger, or whatever you want to call it, was there. I’ve had orgasms before, you know that. But I’ve never felt that before.”

  Gian grinned. “I kinda wanted to see what would happen if I took you past the twitch. Now I know.”

  “ ‘The twitch?’ ”

  He stroked light fingertips over her belly. Her skin jumped, still highly sensitive. “That point past orgasm,” Gian explained. “Orgasms stop, eventually. But once you go past the twitch, you find whole new secrets to taste. It can go on and on . . .”

  “Until your heart stops.” Cinder laughed. “Or dehydration sets in.”

  Gian cupped her between her thighs, his thumb lightly caressing her bare mound. “This is different,” he remarked.