Her Mad Hatter (14 page)

Instead, he wrapped his fingers around her slender wrists. So very gentle, he could snap them. So frail were they. Gentle. Gentle. She did not resist.

He pulled her onto his lap. She sat, stiff as a board smelling like caramel and salt, honey and warm cinnamon. He wanted to trace her with his hands and his tongue, to see if she tasted as sweet as she smelled.

He moved his hands, running them along the length of her spine, slow and sure. She shivered and let out a tiny whimper. But this time, he didn’t think it was from the cold.

Hatter pushed heat into his palms, drying her off, steam rose from her clothing. She sighed and dropped her head onto his shoulder.

His cock grew heavy, hard against his thigh. He trembled, feeling twitchy, almost on the verge of losing control, but he didn’t stop touching her or running his fingers down the sides of her thighs, up again, and around the generous swells of her breasts. Hard nipples rubbed against his palms and he growled.

“Lovely. My Alice.”

She nodded, voice liquid as she said, “Your Alice. Oh yes, Hatter. Yes.”

He no longer skimmed her body, he began to apply pressure, to knead and touch. He licked his lips, noticing a pearly drop of water slide down her neck, coming to rest at the base of her throat.

Such a perfect little drop, clinging to her neck, suspended, frozen in time. Refracting light, catching every color of the rainbow inside its liquid cocoon. Alluring, tempting him to kiss it off, but he couldn’t, couldn’t. Because to kiss it would ruin its symmetry. He blinked. The drop quivered, then continued on its journey and he shuddered, aching from the absence of it. 

“Oh gods, Alice.” He rested his forehead against her neck. “Why you?”

She turned, straddling his thighs. The warmth of her center enveloped him like a hug and he groaned. Nothing stood between them but a mere scrap of fabric and his pants. He wanted to shift, rub himself against the heat of her body.

Her fingers toyed with the wet hair on the back of his head.

“You make me crazy,” she said, then her eyes widened as if she hadn’t meant to say that and his heart sank. Did she think him as mad as all the others had?

She smiled, all teeth and full lips curving up so prettily. He wanted that mouth on him, all of him. He gripped the armchair, refusing to touch her anymore.

The sky started to darken again.

She shook her head. “I have to tell you something. Something that’s painful for me, but you have to know.”

His body tensed, waiting to hear her say she hated him too, that she’d lied, that she would leave, that…

“You remember in the cave when I stopped talking?”

He narrowed his eyes and nodded. She shook and he couldn’t stop from rubbing her arms, trying to calm her, aching to hold her, yet sensing this cost her a great deal and if she didn’t tell him now she might never muster the courage to tell him later.

“When I was 13,” she began, wiggling closer, eliciting a thick groan from him. “I used to have headaches, every day.”

She stopped wiggling, looking beyond him. “Sometimes they were so bad, I couldn’t stop crying.” Her mouth thinned. “I didn’t think anything of it. My mom would give me some medicine and I’d feel better the next day. But then I started to forget things. Like my homework, and feeding our cats. Dumb stuff.” She shrugged and gave him a small smile.

He frowned, sensing this was more than just silly stuff.

“Then one morning I woke up, and I couldn’t remember my mother’s name. My sister’s. My dad. Nothing.”

He stilled her fidgeting fingers, rubbing his thumbs along her soft wrists.

“My dad was a doctor and knew something was wrong. So they took me to the hospital.” Her eyes were haunted, far away, glittering with unshed tears. “Do you know what brain cancer is, Hatter?”

His upside down crazy world paused. He couldn’t seem to catch a breath. He grabbed her head and tucked it against the crook of his neck, running his hand over the back of her thick hair.

“Are you sick, Alice?” His voice was gruff, feeling like he might choke on the question.

She didn’t say anything for a moment. “No,” she said it so calmly that it was eerie. Was she sick? She shook her head emphatically and smiled. “No,” she said stronger, “not anymore.”

The greasy ball of fear in his gut eased up and he took a shaky breath.

Alice pulled away from him, looking at him, as if she were imprinting his face to memory. Her eyes traced the curves of his face before she spoke again.

“It was the size of a golf ball. They gave me a twenty percent chance of surviving the surgery.” She grinned, but it wasn’t a happy one. It was sad, laced with memories both bitter and hard to relive. “Only time I ever saw my mother cry. But I remember after the surgery, I was lying in bed and you came to me.”

He bit his lip.

“You grabbed my hand and whispered that I would be okay.”

A wiggle, a worm of a memory tried to work its way through the muddle of his thoughts. Ephemeral dreams, never to be remembered, such fleeting silly things.

White everywhere. The memory that had nagged at him from the moment he’d seen her began to form. Like riding through a dark tunnel and finally reaching the light... blurry images took shape and in an instant he recalled the dream with perfect clarity.

He’d been asleep, when he’d heard a voice. A sweet little voice, crying and pleading with him to please come.
Please come, my Hatter.

The call had become desperate, incessant.

Please, Hatter, I need you...

And he’d had no choice but to follow. He couldn’t sleep, not with the tears, and the pleas, the way that voice had driven a spear through his heart. She’d needed him. Rarely did he visit the dreaming, rarely could he enter the consciousness of others, but he’d gone to her.

Such a little thing. Frail, skin so gray and chapped. A delicate china doll lying within a white cloud. She’d been so beautiful, silent. She’d opened her eyes and told him...

“Do you remember this at all? I’m such a freak sometimes. Of course, you don’t remember. It was only a dream.” Her laugh was self-deprecating, as if she were embarrassed to admit it. Like she expected him to mock her, so she mocked herself first.

“You asked me: was I real?”

Her face turned sharply toward his.

A black strand of hair slipped over her eye. He couldn’t help himself— he had to touch her. He wrapped the silken strand around his finger. She shivered.

His voice was raw, scratchy, but he forced himself to speak, knowing how desperately she needed to hear this. “When I said, I was, you said-”

“That you were so beautiful.” Her tender words were a benediction to his ears. “And you said?” she waited for him to continue, a challenge-- he knew-- to see if it’d impacted him the way it had her. If after all these years, he could remember.

He smiled; the words as clear to him now as they’d been that day in the strange cloud full of beeping sounds. “Everything has beauty, but not everyone sees it.”

“My favorite Confucius quote.” She turned her cheek into his palm. “You saved me that day, Hatter. I always felt like it was your magic that saved me. I fell in love with you that day.”

The ice around his heart thawed. She’d called him and he’d answered. His chest ached as the sky broke open with radiance, netting them in its golden wash.

“Oh, Hatter,” she half sobbed and then started kissing his face, his cheeks, his nose. Planting hot kisses and the fire that had simmered while she’d told her story, roared back.

Gods he wanted her, more than he’d ever that other Alice. He growled, grabbed the back of her head and slammed their lips together. No gentleness in this touch, he couldn’t. It’d been too long, and he’d been so empty. He needed this, her. Now.

“Yes, oh yes.” Her tiny moans drove him to distraction.

Her tongue flirted with the seam of his lips and she tasted of sunshine. And magic. Magic? His heart’s blood sang in his ears. She was the one. She had to be. He could barely think. All he knew was he had to have this woman. This human mortal who’d cried out for him.

The Mad Hatter.

She’d not been afraid.

She’d wanted his touch.

He traced the curve of her neck; his fingers framed the hollow of her throat, thumb resting against it, feeling the frenetic beat of her pulse. He groaned, twining his tongue with hers.

His body throbbed, ached. He pushed back on her shoulders, laying her down and she squealed. Alice glanced around. “Where are we?”

He’d not been aware he’d transported them until she’d asked it. Barely pausing, he whispered, “My room.” Then he was kissing her again, tasting the sweet saltiness of her neck, licking the dip behind her ear.

She moaned, wiggled on him and blood pooled heady and thick in his cock. “I want you,” he groaned.

Alice fumbled with dress. She yanked, tugged, and then finally threw her hands out to the sides. “Just rip it.”

Grinning, he tore it and immediately was entranced by the sight of the red lace bra covering perfectly rounded breasts. His hand shook. “You are beautiful.”

Her lashes fluttered. “Touch me.”

He didn’t just want to touch her. He wanted to taste her. Lowering his head, he kissed the swell of each breast; his hands massaged their prizes before tugging the bra down. She had dark brown nipples, so pointed, so lovely.

He took one in his mouth, rolled it between his teeth, his tongue swirling over the tip. Her moan bounced around the room, her fingers desperate, yanking at the back of his head, tugging his hair. Sharp nails dug into his scalp, drawing welts and he growled. Pain, and so much pleasure.

“I want to touch you, Hatter,” she pleaded. All he could do was mumble. She pulled at his still wet shirt. It stuck, refusing to slide up.

In her frustration, she ground her center on his blood-engorged cock. “Dammit it all to hell,” he growled, ripping the shirt off, unbuttoning his pants. He needed her hands on him now, needed her to end his agony.

She pushed his hands away and started shoving his pants down, using her feet to push down further when her hands could no longer reach. He lifted up on the tips of his shoes.

Never had he been this reckless, this wild to slake his lust. His kisses left a moist trail from her breasts to her navel. She bucked and lifted up with a soft ah.

“Too many bloody clothes,” he snarled and then chuckled when their clothes disappeared. In his rush to have her, he’d forgotten a few simple words could have made the process much easier.

Her brown eyes sparkled with mischief. “Well, that was easy.”

He kissed her, turning her laugh into a throaty growl. She wrapped her legs around his waist; the movement brought him against the heady wetness between her thighs. He clenched his teeth, trying to hang on, trying to make it special for her. Not wanting to rush this, but knowing he was already so close.

Hatter crawled down her fevered body. For a moment, they stared at each other, the moment transcending more than carnality, more than a meeting of lust.

Two lost and broken souls meeting, discovering that in each other they’d found the missing half. Fall and spring, ying and yang. He breathed, she breathed. Both afraid to speak, to ruin the perfection of a moment suspended in time.

But time was fleeting and they both knew it.

He broke eye contact first. He didn’t want to get lost that way, couldn’t afford to. He licked his lips and froze when his gaze landed on the springy black mass of curls at the juncture of her thighs.

“Alice.” Her name, a whisper, a prayer-- fell from his lips in a trembling voice.

Unabashed, she spread her legs, exposing her swollen pink pearl. His limbs felt too heavy, the air too thick. It was hard to breath, to move. All he wanted to do was lie down and pet her, taste her.

“Hatter, please.”

It was his undoing. He lowered his head, inhaled, taking the heady aroma deep into his lungs.

“Please,” she whispered again.

The moment his mouth touched her clit, she hissed, rocked back on her heels and squeezed her thighs around his face with a punishing grip.

He drew his tongue long and slow down her slit. She tasted of tart raspberries. Delicious. Hatter teased, running his tongue back and forth until she gleamed wet with her dew and his tongue. When he heard her murmuring incoherently, he took her clit into his mouth and sucked hard.

“Oh my gosh,” she cried, “yes. Oh my gosh, oh my Hatter, my crazy Hatter.”

Her words enflamed him, drove him insane. He sucked harder, swirling the bit of flesh around his tongue. Her fingers scratched him everywhere, raising the fine hairs on his body. Using his bristly jaw, he rubbed against her while he continued his onslaught.

Then she was clenching again, her entire body rocking on his face for several intense seconds before she went limp.

“Oh,” she laughed, and bit her finger. “That was, oh wow...” Her laid his chin on her belly, still tasting her on his tongue and watched as her dusky cheeks burned crimson.

Skin glowing, eyes sparkling, black hair fanned out behind her like blades of shadow... she was the prettiest thing he’d ever seen. He would always remember her, just like this.

She held her arms out to him. “Come here.”

He slipped into her arms, warmth flooded his entire body. He still burned for her, but beneath that drive, was a confusing ebb and flow he’d never felt before. Ice and fire.

Wanting to cry, not knowing why. Maybe he was mad, maybe the rumors were true.

She kissed him, wrapped her legs around him again and slid that hot heat along the thick, painful length of his cock.

“It’s your turn, my love,” she whispered, kissing the crook of his neck, setting his blood on fire.

He adjusted his hips and moaned as he finally slid home. Her sheath was like a tight warm fist as he pumped. Sweat dripped from his brow.

He started whispering, lost in his head, in the feel of her body pressed to his. He didn’t know what he was saying, but he couldn’t stop the words.

So good. So damn good.

Gnashing his teeth, his body tightened and tingled as the pressure built.