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Authors: Diane Rinella
Love's Erotic Flower
Love’s Erotic Flower
DIANE RINELLA
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locals is entirely coincidental.
All Rights are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles, essays, and reviews.
Copyright © 2013 Diane Rinella
Cover art copyright © 2013 Diane Rinella
Cover design by Diane Rinella
Original cover source art © Martín Crespo
Photograph used by permission.
Rosalinda Muñiz model
The model on the cover of this book, along with the photographer and the cover’s designer, are in no way affiliated with or endorsing this product.
To Rosalinda for championing me.
To Alicia for inspiring me and making this Easy.
To Darla, my first fan who didn’t know me
before all the madness started.
To the fans who make me
feel I’ve accomplished something special.
Acknowledgements
We are little without the love of others.
My husband, Brian, who has been unfailingly supportive of my dreams and has never once complained when I locked myself away for “just a few more minutes” or spent “just a few more dollars” to complete my projects.
Alicia, my super-genius, gold-standard beta reader who knows how to motivate me to make things better.
Rosalinda and Martín for the beautiful cover photo.
Trinda, Darla, Soraya, Christy, Johanna, and Rosalinda for the reality checks.
Trishalana, for being an amazing and tolerant person.
“The fires that tried to destroy us have only lit the way.”
The words that have just come over the PA system ring true. Six months ago today I united with my soul mate, the one everyone would say is so wrong for me—if they knew the truth. We can’t help whom we fall in love with, and even if I could, I wouldn’t change a thing about my love for Donovan.
Now I stand in a long line of students, a few steps away from being handed my Associates Degree in Baking and Pastry Arts. The thought of staying on and earning my bachelor’s degree has scarily crossed my mind. Possibly I am foolish, as my decision was not lead by lack of either financial resources or time. The only things that drive me now are my passion for life, the desire to open my own bakery, and the one person who sits in the crowd before me, cheering me on.
I step up to the platform, my feet slightly quivering in anticipation. It appears that this will take about twelve steps; three steps up, three to get the diploma, three more off the stage, then three down the stairs. Twelve steps, just like a rehab program, then I am free.
“David Herbert Barker,” booms across the PA system. I inch forward, stopping just shy of the first step. Donovan sits on the end of the third row, just as I requested. His grin is so bold and adoring that I couldn’t miss seeing it if he were a million miles away. Right now, I feel like he is.
“Janet Marie Beason,” rings across the room, and I advance up the stairs. Just nine steps left. My heart pounds in my chest in anticipation. In just nine steps the shackles will fall off.
“Lilyanna Petula Beckett,” resounds in my head. My grin grows bold as I take three steps forward, move my tassel, and grab the diploma so eagerly I almost forget to the shake the Dean’s hand. I dash the next three steps across, then skip the remaining three by leaping down the stairs. I head straight to Donovan, who instantly knows my plan even though the words were never spoken. He greets me with open arms that I jump into, and I plant little kisses all over his face. We pull back with unrestrained grins, our eyes watery messes.
The moment my feet hit the ground I grab his hand, and together we run off to the loaded moving van. The tires screech out of the parking lot as we head straight for the freeway. As we hit the onramp, I roll down my window, toss out my cap, and ring in my new life with a gleeful cheer.
Donovan pulls the moving truck into the driveway of our new apartment, and we nearly jump out of the car due to our excitement. He’s spent every free moment working on this place to make it the best happy-little-home we can reasonably afford. Truthfully, I don’t care if it is a dilapidated old shack, as long as I get to be with him.
As we head up the walkway, we stop and wrap our arms around each other, appreciating the moment for which we have waited so long. “It feels like this took forever,” he says, “but we finally did it. I never lost faith it would happen someday, yet the reward feels greater than I ever imagined.”
It hurts to restrain myself from kissing him, but to take such a risk in public, even in an area where we are reasonably sure it is safe, is sadly a risk not worth taking. Instead we grab deep breaths, hold on tight, and step into our new world.
Donovan enters the bedroom; sweat glistening on his brow while he carries a stack of boxes. He looks so damn sexy that it is hard to restrain myself. I almost don’t.
Squatting in the corner of the room, he sets the boxes down. Damn. Why does he have to lift properly? That would look so much better if he were bent over. It’s painfully ironic that the one time I wouldn’t mind seeing a guy’s ass crack it’s the only guy in the world who actually wears a belt properly.
Donovan turns to leave, wiping the sweat and feathery black locks from his forehead. He notices my scanning eyes and baited lips. “The view from here isn’t so bad either,” he whispers. “As soon as those guys helping us leave, let’s start christening rooms.”
“Who says we need to wait until they’re gone. We can lock ourselves in the closet right now.”
His sapphire eyes float to the dent in the wall covered by a door. The smug little smirk on his face shows he’s glad he has me wrapped around his little finger. He also loves making me wait for him, knowing it drives me crazy.
To my surprise, he peers out the door, then struts up to me. How is it I already know that he is leading me on?
His fingers thread a cluster of hair below my temple—the cluster I was just playing with, only I wasn’t aware of that action until he touched them. The breath on my ear as his lips hone in brings about my sigh. “Nice try, Lil,” he whispers. Then words unspoken ring in my head, loudly and clearly.
I love you, Lily
.
I love you, too.
I continue to be mesmerized as he draws back, grinning.
“Chicken!” I call as he strolls out of the room. My eyes lock on his ass. His tight and toned torso is already unfair enough, but his ass is beautifully deadly. For years I have been fascinated by its firmness. I love watching it in a mirror as he slams into me. There’s nothing better than grabbing it, squeezing it, and aiding his thrusts—but that’s no longer enough. I want him to feel what I do when he is inside me from behind. I want the glorious view of him bent over, inviting entry. I want to know how it feels to pound into him, exactly the way he does to me.
Donovan’s adventurous, but he’s never been that kind of guy. However, what wrong with a little persuasion?
I never knew what it meant to be complete until my lips met Donovan’s. Our first kiss began as a confession of earthly love. It then escalated into a soul-claiming hunger. It was during that inevitable touch of our lips that our mouths and tongues danced in synchronization, as if guided to perfection by an unknown force. It brought about confirmation of what I suspected since I entered his life at my birth: He is my soul mate, and our union was dictated long ago by the heavens. It was only mankind who kept us apart. How dare society tamper with God’s exquisiteness?
Finally the neighbors have left, and I pin Donovan against the wall. The touch of my hand as it slides into his jeans causes his breath to stutter. He had it coming. After all, he was walking along, minding his own business. With us, that’s grounds for an ambush.
Instantly his cock twitches in response to my groping, building into a pillar of desire. Everything south of my waistline clenches as his shaft rapidly expands and thickens. His arms slide around me, yanking me close as his lips go in for a kiss.
“Oh, no you don’t,” I scold, tightening my grip. “Bad boy! Very, very bad boy!”
His eyes widen in fervor, and then drop to view the removal of my hand from his pants. When I quickly unfasten his jeans, tugging the zipper in a swift motion, his eyes resume their dance.
Grabbing the waistband at the sides, I yank his pants downward, taking his boxers with them as I drop to my knees. My hands slide up his taut ass and cup it. I raise my head as if in worship of the rod of pleasure of which I am beholden. Slipping my tongue into a tight V, I lick his length and tease the tip, savoring the sweet wine it languidly emits before my mouth engulfs him. His shuttered moan brings a tingle to the deep regions of my body that clench tightly in anticipation of his taking over my being. My heart flutters with excitement.
Bobbing my head, I take him deeper and deeper each time, his soft tip near the back of my throat, my tongue pressing up into him. I’m sadly unable to reach the root for his length, so I grip the base and stroke it with my thumb. Releasing him, I lick my way up his shaft and tease the tip of his satiny summit.
His musk makes me dizzy. My tongue dances under his balls, flicking back and forth as I look up to him and appreciate the glory of his crown tilted back, its hair gracing his shoulders, his chest heaving, his hands pressing into the wall behind him in surrender. I begin sucking on his balls, taunting the loose flesh with the clamp of my lips, loving the feel of the soft skin in my mouth.
My body screams with desire for his scent to be imbedded in it, so I nuzzle my cheek against him, and his pubes tickle against my skin. My tongue journeys back so my mouth can take him in again, and his hands slide up my shoulders and around the back of my head, gripping onto my long brown tresses. My blouse and bra are ripped off and cast aside, all the while not missing a beat.
Slipping my fingers into my pants, I soak them in the juice his body causes mine to create. His head is titled back so far he’s not even aware that the hand sliding up his leg has fingers that are covered in my honey as I brave toward my next move. A moist finger circles his anus, and he clenches his cheeks in response, slightly jerking them away, sending his cock deeper into my mouth. His reaction may be uninviting, but I’ve hardly heard him say no. Again my finger circles his entry, this time pulsing on it. I lick my way off of him. “Let me in,” I softly command.
Donovan peers down at me, and a hesitant smile crosses his face, yet his butt cheeks remain tight. Still, he hasn’t protested.
“Let me in, or you’re finishing by yourself,” I say, leaning back so he can see my hand slipping into my pants while I finger myself for more lube. My head tosses back with a deep moan, showing him what he’ll miss if he doesn’t comply.
With a nervous snicker his muscles relax, and my lips resume their work of taking him in deep. My finger taps his hole, then slowly pushes and twists its way in. Immediately his cheeks clench, and the pressure builds in his balls as he groans, “Oh dear, God.”
Donovan grabs the back of my head, softly thrusting his cock into my mouth. My finger matches his pulses, each time pressing a little farther into his ass. The grip of his hole has my pussy in a contest to rival its tightness. His moan deepens. He then quickly halts and pulls away my hand from his ass. “I have a better idea,” he says, practically lifting me off the floor and tossing me so my stomach hits the bed. “It’s my turn.”
