Bubbles and Troubles Page 4

  “But I’m not done yet,” he informed her. He slipped her sweatshirt over her head in one quick movement. Carmen blushed to feel the cool air on her exposed breasts. A pesky voice in the back of her mind fretted, You don’t know this guy! Carmen shooed it away with ease, choosing to focus on the glorious sight before her eyes. I know that he looks, tastes and feels divine, and that it’ll do me no good whatsoever to call the cops.

  “Five years, huh, Carmen?” Brock noted. He unbuttoned her jeans and shoved them down to her ankles before lifting her feet, one at a time, to free her from the heavy denim. “That’s way too long, lovely.”

  He pressed his broad, warm chest against hers, letting the tight nubs of her tits rub against his smooth skin. Shifting his hips against hers, Brock rubbed his semi-erect cock against Carmen’s belly. He took her breasts in his hands and kneaded them. Carmen felt the soft inner walls of her cunt melt when he lowered his face to suckle one nipple. “Oh, God,” she murmured.

  Brock eased her against the foot of the bed and cupped his hand between her legs. “You’re so wet,” he said, his voice muffled by his mouthful of her flesh.

  Carmen’s knees felt weak and she was grateful to have the edge of the bed propping her up. She wondered idly if she’d have a hickey or two by the time this was over. Carmen gasped with pain and surprise when he bit her nipple between his sharp teeth, then sighed when he covered the offended breast with his soothing, wet mouth.

  He eased his fingers into her pussy - pushing one, then two, then three inside her. Carmen’s body thrummed with energy. She bucked her hips against his hand, and cried out when he brought the pad of his thumb to her clit. “Mmm-hmm,” she murmured, “that’s good.”

  Brock lifted his face from her reddened, swollen breast. Not missing a beat with his finger-fucking, he lifted his other hand to the side of her face. “You’re so beautiful, Carmen,” he told her, “in every way I can see.” Carmen’s pussy contracted around his fingers, sending a fresh torrent of her juices running down his hand. Brock eased his other hand behind her neck, holding her as though she were made of crystal.

  “I haven’t kissed you yet,” he whispered, “but I’ve wanted to. I’ve watched you sleeping, and watched you in the mornings when you wake up and touch yourself. I’ve watched you dancing at the rec centre, and wanted to rush into the room and take you right there.” He traced circles with his thumb over her clit. “I’ve watched you care for your animals. I’ve watched you do your law work, and I’ve watched you bag vegetables at the food co-op.” He lowered his face to hers so that Carmen felt the warm, moist puffs of air from his mouth.

  Inside her, he found her G-spot with his fingertip. Carmen closed her eyes and thrust her hips against his palm, begging for more of the contact.

  His lips brushed against hers, softly and reverently. Carmen felt her orgasm move like the flow of lava from a volcano—from her weeping pussy, to her swollen, sensitive tits, and finally to her mouth, where it bloomed like a firework.

  She cried out, but her shout was muted by his lips on hers. He filled her mouth with his tongue, mimicking the methodical fucking that his hand was giving her cunt. Carmen fell limp against the foot of the bed as her climax throbbed through her body. Brock kept his fingers deep inside her until her last spasm ended.

  When Carmen opened her eyes, she saw Brock’s satisfied face before her. “Was it worth the wait?” he asked.

  Carmen laughed shakily. “It was amazing,” she answered, “although I sure don’t want to wait another five years before it happens again.”

  Cock-a-doodle-doooo!

  Carmen realised that, in the midst of the first sex she’d had in half a decade, the first rays of sunlight had crept over the countryside. “That would be Spare Tire,” she told Brock, “greeting the dawn.”

  Carmen gloried in the gorgeous tactile sensation of his nude body pressed against hers and the tender kisses he placed on the side of her neck. “What do you say we get cleaned up,” Brock offered, “and I show you where I live in the woods?”

  “Ah.” Carmen nodded. She cupped her hands around his sculpted ass cheeks and traced her fingers down the crease between them. “And where do the Fair Folk live, anyway? In toadstool rings glamoured up to look like condos? Maybe a glamoured cave that looks like a posh hotel?”

  “Erm, no. What I’ll show you is the real deal, no glamour involved,” Brock told her. “You have to understand that you can’t ever tell anyone about it. Not that it would matter, though—”

  “Right, because if I brought anyone out to see it, they’d see, like, a big pile of firewood or something.”

  “Exactly,” Brock confirmed. “And, Carmen, do you think we could maybe bring some of your eggs to the homestead? We don’t have any chickens, and the eggs you have are free-range…”

  Carmen chuckled. “By all means, Brock. Let’s save you the trouble of stealing any more.” She thought she saw the faintest trace of a blush beneath his deeply tanned cheeks. “And yes, I’d be happy to bring some eggs in exchange for a visit to the Fair Folk’s home in the woods.”

  Chapter Six

  An hour later, Carmen set off behind Brock into the murky twilight of Prescott Woods. Although only few steps separated her backyard from the lush old growth of trees, it seemed a world away. Another hour of picking their way among gnarled roots and craggy terrain brought them deep into the lush interior of the woods.

  “So, you’re telling me that there are magical beings in here, like elves and trolls and who-knows-what? And that I won’t even be able to see them as they are?” Carmen shuddered. She shifted her backpack—loaded with a few just-in-case necessities and a dozen carefully packed eggs—on her shoulders.

  “Don’t worry,” Brock reassured her. He gallantly lifted a thorny branch from her path and held it as she walked by. “They may well show their true selves when they see that I’m with you, but you will definitely not be in danger as long as you’re with me.”

  “What, you’ll glamour yourself into a squirrel and chuck nuts at them?” Carmen muttered as she stepped past him.

  Brock chuckled. “That’s always an option, if worst comes to worst. But I don’t think it will be necessary. My clan, the Fair Folk, rule these woods. Even the dark magic folk would only harm us if we attacked them first.” He caught Carmen’s elbow and stopped her. “Look, I know you only just met me, but you can trust me, Carmen. I’m inviting you to my home because I think you can help us save it, and also because I admire you.” He wrapped one strong arm around the small of her back and pulled her tightly to him in a stomach-to-stomach hold. “And because I am growing increasingly fond of you, minute by minute.”

  Carmen heard the rustle of woodland animals and the screeching call of a bird. The woods whirled away from her, though—all that mattered was the wild man in front of her. She raised her hands to his sides and was immediately reminded that his clothing—the hiking shorts and T-shirt—were simply a glamour. His warm, bare skin slid beneath her hands. Lower, at her stomach, he pressed his exposed cock insistently into her flesh. Pinpricks of arousal sparked at her breasts and in the slick space between her thighs.

  “And because I desire you as I’ve never desired any woman.” He lowered his face to hers for a deep, lingering kiss.

  Carmen melted against his tall frame. Had a man’s touch ever felt this sublime? She opened her mouth to his flickering tongue and traced her hands down the taut muscles of his lower back to the crease of his rear. Carmen grazed her fingernails over the delicate skin from his asshole to his balls as she twirled her tongue against his. Brock growled and pulled her closer, deepening his kiss.

  “Ahem,” a female voice interrupted.

  Carmen broke the kiss and pulled away, her cheeks flaming. She saw a young woman with thick tangles of fiery orange hair that fell nearly to her waist. She wore a simple strapless wrap dress that fell nearly to her knees. The tan linen was plain, but it hugged her lithe, athletic figure perfectly. Her feet were bare, and she
wore a mocking expression.

  “What’s she doing here, Brock?” the woman spat. “You need to get her out of here, immediately, and even then, Father may decide she knows too much.” Her black eyes glinted angrily.

  “Carmen, please meet my sister, Paloma. I apologise for her coarse manners. Paloma, may I introduce my friend, Carmen?” Brock placed a protective arm around Carmen as he spoke.

  Paloma ignored Carmen and focused her wrath on Brock. “Again I ask, brother, what is this woman doing here? You know that outsiders are not allowed.”

  Brock sighed. “I had hoped to speak to Father before I ran into you or Lowell,” he explained. “You know that the woods are in trouble. Carmen can help us. She loves Charade and is opposed to the planned development. She’s also a lawyer with lots of friends in town.”

  Paloma ran her eyes up and down Carmen’s frame before glaring back at Brock. “It doesn’t hurt that you find her attractive, though, does it? You’re so predictable.”

  Carmen heard footsteps on the crunchy woodland floor. A whitetail buck stepped slowly towards them. It stopped just a foot away from Carmen and Brock, its nostrils flaring with each breath. Carmen’s eyes widened at the sight of the beautiful creature standing so close to her. In the blink of an eye, the deer vanished and a bearded man stood in its place.

  He was massive and tall. He reminded Carmen of the flannel-clad woodsman on the Brawny paper towel packages. Like the Brawny man she remembered from her girlhood, this guy sported tousled brown hair, faded red plaid flannel shirt and blue jeans. Vintage Tom Selleck with an edge and a beard, she decided at once.

  “Explain this, Brock,” the man demanded in a deep rumble. “Explain why you have brought this mortal woman here.” He studied Carmen with all the compassion of a hungry shark.

  “Father, I wanted to speak to you at our home. Carmen can help us save the woods. She can—”

  “Silence!” the man boomed. The sounds of calling birds and rustling creatures ended at once. The entire woods seemed intimidated by the burly patriarch. “You meant to bring her to Speranza?” His eyes narrowed angrily. “To our family’s home, Brock?”

  “Yes, sir, I did,” Brock answered calmly.

  The great man held one hand up for silence. “Very well, then. Escort her to Speranza. Do not take her back to her house. We will discuss the matter as a family. Paloma, please summon Lowell and Korbin.”

  Paloma nodded to her father, smirked at Brock, then darted off into the woods. Brock’s father gave Carmen a passing glance before addressing Brock once more. “You should know,” he told him, “that there’s no going back now, Brock. You’ve sealed this mortal woman’s fate. If our family remains unconvinced that we have a need for her, then I’m afraid that’s the end of it. Regardless, she is, under no circumstances, to leave the woods without my clearance.”

  At that, Brock’s father strode off through the woods. Brock watched his form disappear into the trees.

  Carmen waited long moments for him to speak, then couldn’t wait another second. “Listen, Brock, what did he mean by, ‘that’s the end of it’? What’s that all about?”

  Brock took her hand and kissed it. “It’s going to be okay, Carmen. Our woods are in real danger, and I believe you are our best bet to save them.” His intense blue eyes crinkled as he smiled. “And like Paloma said, it doesn’t hurt that I find you attractive.”

  “Look, I love the woods, too, and I love Charade, but I don’t want to be, like, turned into a stump or something if your family doesn’t like me. Let’s just go back, okay?”

  “I’m sorry, Carmen, but that’s no longer an option,” Brock replied. “Father knows you’re here, and he controls every part of Prescott Woods. If we tried to leave without speaking with my family, they would find us before we could reach your backyard. And they’d be even more suspicious of you.” He began to lead her deeper into the woods.

  Carmen followed him in silence, alternately listening to the voices of fear and curiosity that argued in her mind. She and Brock stopped at a fallen tree for a rest and some bottled water. As they passed the cool spring water back and forth, Brock gave Carmen a briefing about his family. “They’re great, really, but we all have our quirks,” he told her. “Father’s name is Gavin Rossi. He found this place when we were still kids and we settled here. Mother died while Korbin was being born, and, as soon as Korbin was old enough to travel, Father left New York and headed south to seek his fortune with us kids in tow. Of course, that was a really long time ago.”

  Brock cleared his throat and continued, “Lowell is my oldest brother. He’s most like Father, I suppose, but a bit more hot-tempered. A real might-means-right kind of guy when he’s cornered. Paloma is the next oldest. I’m not sure why, but for the last several decades she’s grown increasingly bitter and unforgiving. She used to be so playful. We were the closest siblings when we were growing up. Korbin is the youngest of us, and the most studious, too. He’s fascinated by woodland lore and herbal healing, that sort of thing. Sometimes he needs a good shake to get him going when there’s a crisis, but he’s a good sort.”

  “Mm-hmm.” Carmen nodded. “I hear you, but I’m still stuck on what you said about Paloma. For the last several decades she’s been cranky? She doesn’t look older than twenty-five, Brock! And your father looks no older than you do. Is that part of the glamour you guys can do?”

  “No, glamour has nothing to do with it. The way you see him now, and the way you saw Father, Paloma, and the rest of us, is exactly how our bodies naturally appear. Once we reach adulthood, we don’t age, Carmen. And Father’s body actually grew younger in appearance when we obtained our magic. Although, we can use our glamour to appear older or younger if the mood strikes us, of course,” he concluded.

  They capped the water bottle and set off once more. Carmen’s home seemed a world away. She wondered idly what Spare Tire was up to, and if the shaky truce between him and Dax was still holding up. Finally, Brock announced, “We’re almost there, Carmen.”

  “Thank goodness,” Carmen breathed. “At this point, I’m almost ready to be turned into a stump just so I can rest. My legs are shaking from all this up and down movement.”

  Brock’s mouth quirked devilishly. “I’d much rather your legs be shaking from a different sort of up and down movement, but, with luck, we can work that out later today.”

  Carmen’s cheeks flamed with embarrassed excitement. A little up-down movement with Brock sounded like the perfect reward for this hike, if, that is, she survived the Fair Folk family interview. She trailed Brock for another few yards before the woods opened up into an enormous clearing.

  Carmen looked up, shook her head, squinted and looked again. “A castle? In the middle of the woods? For real, is this another glamour, Brock?”

  “Nope,” he assured her. “This is the real deal. Welcome to Castle Speranza, Carmen.” Carmen’s eyes drank in the elegant limestone structure. Four conical-roofed towers graced each corner of the three-storey castle. Narrow arched windows, largest on the bottom floor and smallest on top, dotted the grey stone walls. The woods encroached close to the castle’s lawn, which was more a great patch of wild violets than an actual grassy lawn. Carmen caught the glimmer of a wide pond that extended beyond the left wall of the structure, complete with pink water lilies. She smiled to see a mama wood duck, with six little masked ducklings in tow, waddle past her feet and towards the sparkling expanse of water behind the castle.

  Paloma emerged from the woods flanked by two men. Carmen could see a slight family resemblance between the brothers, but they were polar opposites in appearance. Paloma halted, scowling, and crossed her arms.

  “Carmen,” Brock said, “allow me to introduce my other siblings. This is Lowell, my older brother.” He gestured towards a solidly built man with a head full of shaggy raven-black hair and a heavy jaw dotted with stubble. He looked, Carmen decided, an awful lot like his father, minus the beard and with extra snarl.

  Carmen forced a weak
smile and held her hand out for a handshake. Lowell flicked his eyes at her outstretched palm and glowered. “Carmen, huh?” he growled. Coffee-brown eyes squinted beneath his full black eyebrows. “I hope you enjoy your visit to Castle Speranza, Carmen,” he grumbled, “because it’s going to be the last thing you remember.” Lowell flexed his fingers and balled them into fists.

  “Now, now, Lowell, no need to get all gloom and doom on us.” Brock chuckled uncomfortably. “We’re just talking here. I’m sure that once you understand what Carmen has to offer, you’ll be grateful she’s here.”

  Carmen tried to squash the panic rising in her throat. What the hell had Brock got her into?

  “And Carmen, this is my younger brother, Korbin,” Brock continued. Korbin was tall, thin, and graceful-looking. Above clear green eyes, he sported a mane of fine, white-blond hair. Korbin gave Carmen a soft smile and reached for a handshake. His grip felt warm and strong in her hand.

  “Hi, Carmen,” Korbin said. “Don’t let Lowell and Paloma scare you. I’m sure Brock wouldn’t have brought you here without good reason.” Lowell cut a fierce glare at Korbin, who coloured slightly, but held his gaze.

  Brock’s father opened the front door of the castle. “All here?” he asked in a deep voice. “Good. Come in, all of you.” He disappeared into the imposing structure. Brock squeezed Carmen’s hand, now slippery with anxious sweat, and led her inside after Paloma.

  Chapter Seven

  Even with the fear of death or stump-transformation looming, Carmen was dazzled by Castle Speranza’s interior. It was opulent, gorgeous, gleaming—everything a fairy tale castle should be. Oriental rugs covered rich wood floors and enormous crystal chandeliers glittered overhead. How in the world did they get electricity out here? Carmen wondered. Ornately carved furniture, much of it marble-topped, graced every part of the home she could see, and heavy gilt mirrors hung on the walls. Carmen craned her neck to see the fabulous double staircase with its lavish wrought iron balusters. She could almost make out the design in the jewel-toned stained glass window at the landing—