Breath of Fire Page 5

  “You had to shove a pillow over your face to muffle your screams,” I said. And she screamed again, as powerful as the swell behind us, as I lavished her clit with my tongue.

  “Yes, Sage, yes Sage,” she cried, fucking my face, riding the crest of an orgasm that had me grinding against the sand.

  “You’re so fucking beautiful like this, Olivia,” I whispered as I climbed back up her body to kiss her throat, her neck, her cheek.

  “I know,” she moaned happily. “And we haven’t even done the best part yet.”

  “Which is?” I nipped her lip.

  And she threw me onto my back and straddled me, looking flushed and orgasmic.

  I sat up, wrapping her legs around my waist, smoothing strands of her hair from her face.

  “Fucking you bare,” Olivia said. She ground against me. Slid against my cock deliciously. “I want your big, perfect cock just like this.” She snapped her hips, drawing a rough moan from my lips.

  “Please,” I begged, and she did it again. “I’m clean. And I need this, Liv.”

  “Same here. Clean and protected.”

  My cock notched right at her entrance, and she dipped her hips an inch, taking just the head. “I loved the way you fucked me that first time.” Another inch. “So slowly, so patiently, like we had all the time in the world.” My fingers bruised her hips; my breath was coming in short, pained pants.

  “Liv,” I groaned. “Baby, please.”

  Olivia shook her head with a sexy smile. So I dragged my hands to her delicious hips and yanked her all the way down my cock. She cried out. I thrust my hips up hard.

  “I’ve had longer to practice now,” I managed, mouth against her ear. “Let me fuck you like you want, Olivia. Let me give you what you need.”

  I flipped her back onto her back and pulled her right leg over my shoulder.

  “You make me feel so goddamn full, Sage,” she sighed.

  Her fingernails raked down my back. The muscles of her pussy squeezed me so tightly I could barely breathe. Barely think except flex my hips — hard — and smile when she screamed again.

  That was all it took.

  I fucked Olivia with the raw, primal need built up from years apart, years of tension and longing and sexual desire. Every thrust rocked us across the sand; every thrust wrenched some guttural sound from the two of us. Her teeth bruised my shoulders as she rode out the endless pleasure. I drove my cock between her legs with one singular demand: to make her come again.

  My mouth found hers, and we kissed almost angrily, tongues and lips clashing in an erotic ballet. I wanted to fuck her forever — here on the beach, with the night air and the ocean waves and a future that felt limitless.

  Olivia’s orgasm was big and beautiful and as she screamed the stars down, I fell with her, emptying inside her body as my climax raced up my spine. We were wrapped around each other, gasping for breath, humming sweet words between our lips. And when the sparks of our bliss finally abated, I realized the limitless future I’d envisioned had only one thing in it that truly mattered: Olivia.

  7

  SAGE

  “Rise and shine, McAllister. You’ve got decisions to make and a future to start.” A foot was shoving my chest. Olivia’s foot. I peeled open my eyes to see a sleepy-looking Olivia holding two giant Styrofoam cups of coffee from the Paradise Cafe. Hair mussed, hickeys on her neck, wearing my sweatshirt.

  “Can I wake up every day like this?” I said, pulling her down for a kiss. We’d fucked and talked and fucked until dawn, falling asleep on the sand like we had countless times before, the waves of Playa Vieja soothing us to sleep.

  “Maybe,” Olivia said with a sly smile. “Depends on what happens today.”

  “And what’s that?” I asked, sitting up and wincing. Between the wild sex and the hard beach, I was sore and aching. Olivia pressed the hot coffee into my hand, and I took a grateful sip.

  “We’re going to the cliffs,” she said, and before she even finished the thought, I was already shaking my head.

  “Nope.”

  “Yes,” she exclaimed, pulling me up, dusting off the sand. “They’re right over there, and I’ve always found the best way to start the morning in Playa Vieja is by jumping off those cliffs into the ocean. Wakes you right up.”

  I glanced at my phone — six missed calls from Rita.

  “Shit, I was supposed to call about the show today,” I groaned, rubbing my hand down my face.

  “I know,” Olivia said softly. “Which is why I think we should walk and talk.”

  Another yank, and even though I’d been terrified of those cliffs since high school, I’d always been helpless when it came to Olivia Nguyen. We kicked off our flip-flops, pulling ourselves up the rocks that led to the edge. It was a hot, sunny day, and Olivia’s hair shone like black diamonds.

  “If you could do anything with your yoga career, right here and now, what would you do?” she asked.

  “I’d open up a non-profit yoga studio,” I said. Then stopped in my tracks.

  Olivia turned, eyes wide. “That was fast,” she said.

  “Yeah,” I laughed. “I guess it’s been in the back of my mind for a while now.”

  “Tell me your idea for it.”

  We were scaling the rocks, muscles moving, lungs working, and I got that same euphoric feeling I always got when my body was moving in a way that made it happy. My mind felt as clear and calm as a lake at sunrise.

  “If I sold Sun Fire, plus my house in L.A., I could buy a new space for a non-profit studio. Have more than enough to invest and float us for a few years while we figured out a funding structure. It could be like…sliding-scale. Pay what you can. Or maybe discounts on certain days. A free day once a month.” I was rattling off ideas and Olivia was smiling at me, encouraging.

  “I like it, I like it,” she said. “Yoga for the people.”

  I was grinning broadly now, linking my fingers with Olivia’s. “Maybe…well, I always had this idea about yoga outreach. Maya, my old teacher, used to do yoga in prisons. At homeless shelters. For folks in recovery or people with chronic illnesses or pain. Making sure yoga was truly accessible for everyone.” My heart was growing lighter at the very thought — no more body obsession. No more ridiculous celebrity demands. No more feeling like I was doing something deeply disrespectful to the practice of yoga.

  “That feels like a more honest expression of what you think yoga can be for people,” Olivia said.

  “It does. It feels…good.”

  We reached the cliffs, which were really more like tall rocks than cliffs — a part of Playa Vieja that had taken on a scarier feel in my memory. The ocean was a pristine aquamarine color, waves gentle. Six years ago, Olivia had jumped from these cliffs right before she’d left for New York. We didn’t know then how hard that semester would be for us as a couple — we only thought it would be a fun way to commemorate our time together before she left.

  I walked over to the edge — it was hardly fifteen feet from the water.

  “I can’t believe I was afraid of this when I was a kid,” I laughed. “We’re barely off the water.”

  Olivia shrugged. “Still badass though. And I was still the only one that did it.”

  I threw my arm over her shoulders, pulled her in for a side-hug. “Okay, oh, Badass One. Tell me why you dragged my poor, sex-exhausted body all the way up here.”

  “For fun?” she said.

  I narrowed my eyes at her until she smiled.

  “Okay, okay. You got me,” she said “I just thought…I don’t know, we could do it together. Jump into the water. Maybe talk about our future.”

  “And what would you like that to be?” I asked, brushing the hair from her shoulder.

  “I’m moving back here for good, Sage. I’m moving home. I don’t know what my artistic career will look like, but who cares? It’s scary but thrilling, all at the same time.”

  Olivia pushed up onto her tip-toes, pressing a gentle kiss to my lips. “Come hom
e, Sage. With me.”

  I swallowed hard, chest tight with emotion. “I’d like that very much. Where should I live?”

  “The old Victorian I’m moving into has an opening on the second floor, right beneath me. We could be neighbors,” she said, eyebrow lifted.

  “Neighbors, huh?” I kissed her neck and she shivered.

  “I’ve never had a boyfriend be my neighbor before.”

  “Boyfriend, huh?” I teased.

  “Yeah,” she laughed. “I figured I might as well just go for the gold. Pack up my life in New York. Move home. Get back together with my incredibly handsome, incredibly sexy, incredibly kind-hearted, formerly famous, ex-boyfriend.”

  “Well, I guess I have to pack up my life in Los Angeles. Get back together with my incredibly beautiful, incredibly brave, incredibly talented ex-girlfriend.”

  “And the show?” she asked, arms around my waist.

  I shook my head, glancing at the sun sailing above the horizon. “I’m going to say no. It never felt like a good decision. I think opening up a non-profit yoga studio feels like a better future, don’t you think? Scarier, maybe harder, but the right future for me. For us. Maybe you could even paint the studio walls with murals?”

  “I’d love that,” Olivia said. “The other night you inspired me to draw this warrior woman. She had this internal heat that made her strong. The heart of a lioness. A breath of fire that propelled her through life.”

  “Beautiful,” I said. “Maybe our murals could feature all kinds of bodies and postures – all the many unique ways that yoga can be expressed.”

  “That sounds right for you, Sage,” she said softly.

  A deep, unyielding weight was lifting from my shoulders and my heart could have floated. I’d carried this weight because I thought it was all part of the journey.

  But it was time to let it go: the celebrity, the fame, the pressure.

  “I like the idea of you being a broke artist here.” I leaned into her warmth, ghosting my lips across that sensitive spot on her neck. “Maybe I can be your subject again?”

  “Interesting. Because I just started drawing nudes.”

  I laughed, giving her a sloppy kiss on the cheek. “Your wish is my command, Liv.”

  “And I love the idea of you being a slightly-broke yoga teacher here.” Oliva clapped her hands together. “So, it’s settled then. We’re coming home.”

  “Finally,” I said.

  “And after this, you’re taking me for breakfast burritos, right?”

  I kissed her — the years unfolding between us, our past just as important as our future. I kissed my soulmate, who I was lucky enough to meet when I was fifteen, at just the right time. And even luckier to meet again when I needed her the most.

  “Yes to breakfast,” I said. “And what happens next?”

  Olivia grinned, hair whipping around her face. She pulled me toward the edge of the cliffs, balancing on our toes. It was a beautiful day in Playa Vieja, and we had the rest of our lives to figure it out.

  “That’s easy,” Olivia laughed. “We jump.”

  THE END

  (turn the page for three bonus epilogues!)

  BONUS EPILOGUE #1

  Six months later

  OLIVIA

  The light in my tiny bedroom-studio was just right to sketch my boyfriend naked.

  He’d come home looking more stressed than usual over the nonprofit yoga studio he’d spent the past six months creating. As planned, Sage had sold his house in LA as well as SunFire. Since then, he’d been teaching yoga at Finn and Avery’s studio and working around the clock on opening this new space.

  Like most life transformations, some days were good. Really good. Sage would come home with a happy smile and a light, shiny heart with hours of stories to share.

  And some days just sucked — a hitch in his funding plan, some zoning violation, a pesky detail that fucked everything up.

  Today looked like one of the sucky days.

  “McAllister,” I called out once I heard the shower turn off. Sage wandered into my studio with just a white towel slung low on his trim waist. “What are you up to right now?”

  Sage ran a hand through his tousled, wet hair, biceps bunching. He walked over, bent down, and brushed his lips against mine until my cheeks flushed.

  “Hey, beautiful.”

  “Hi,” I sighed. Another light, teasing kiss. Then he said, “I have a couple grants I need to submit, and I’ve got two classes back-to-back tonight. Why?”

  I caught the knot in his towel between my two fingers.

  “Let me draw you.”

  A devilish grin curved his lips. “Yeah?”

  “I’m feeling very…inspired.”

  The towel dropped.

  I was suddenly staring at the smooth, perfect planes of Sage’s stomach – the ridge of his Adonis belt. His thick cock was already hardening.

  “Very inspired,” I repeated. Sage laughed, arching his brow.

  “What does one have to do to be Olivia Nguyen’s portrait model?”

  I lifted my shoulder. “I don’t know. Take me out to ice cream later?”

  “Deal.”

  I nodded toward the chair in the back corner. “Sit.”

  His fingers tilted my chin, thumb sweeping across my lip. I bit it.

  “Or we could…”

  “Nope,” I laughed, giving him a hard shove. “Your job is to sit and look sexy. Not distract the artist.”

  “I seem to remember you distracting me every time we studied in high school.”

  “Who me?” I said, feigning innocence.

  Sage cocked his head. “You’re right. Must have been my other drop-dead gorgeous girlfriend.”

  I pursed my lips, hiding a smile. My sketchbook lay open wide, pages sparkling white. I’d never get tired of that little kick my heart gave at the look of a blank page. Then I let my eyes roam up the prone, naked form of Sage McAllister.

  Kick-kick went my heart.

  The past six months of our romantic reunion had been the very best of my life. Although technically Sage had the apartment below mine in this old Victorian, we hadn’t spent a single night apart. We spent our days teasing each other mercilessly. Flirting in the kitchen, kissing on the couch. Taking long, steamy showers that ended with me bent over at the waist, Sage driving his cock between my legs with expert skill.

  We ran into the cool waves of Playa Vieja. Surfed. Drank coffee on the beach. Strolled the boardwalk hand-in-hand.

  Fucked.

  A lot.

  Those six years I’d lived without Sage had stoked a carnal hunger that dominated my every waking thought.

  “Liv? You with me?”

  “Sorry,” I mumbled, grasping the charcoal pencil between my fingers. I zeroed in on that Adonis belt of his, the sharp definition of the muscle there. The dark hair that led to his now-fully erect dick. “Just a little bit…”

  “Distracted?”

  “Shhh,” I teased. “The artist needs total silence.”

  Sage smirked.

  Beneath my fingers, the beautiful, poetic shape of Sage’s body took form. The years of honing his skill were evident in every defined, flexing ridge. He was fluid, sensual grace and hard, masculine muscle. One large palm splayed on his thigh, and as I tried to capture the intricate shadow, an idea bloomed.

  “Touch yourself,” I said, not lifting my eyes from the paper.

  There was a charged silence. Then those fingers wrapped around the base of his cock. His throat worked, then he tugged up.

  On the page, my portrait was an array of dark lines and blank spaces. His thighs seemed carved from granite. His forearms tanned and veined. His abs flexing in time with his heaving chest.

  Throat exposed. Head back.

  Sage McAllister was now fucking himself in front of me.

  “So perfect,” I whispered. I wanted to imprint his ragged desire in the pencil, let it drag across the page. I wanted to be able to look at this portrait years from now
and remember instantly these heady days of electrifying need.

  “Faster,” I said, finally lifting my gaze to Sage’s face.

  “Fuck, you’re beautiful,” he grunted.

  “I know,” I teased. “You’re beautiful, too.”

  With deliberate intent, I placed the sketchpad on the floor and walked toward the naked god in front of me. His jaw was tight, eyes burning, nostrils flaring.

  “You stopped drawing.”

  “I had an even better idea.” My knees hit the warm floor. My palms slid up his impressive thighs. My fingers cupped his balls.

  “Oh god, Liv.”

  My tongue eased its way up the delicious length of him. I took his fingers and threaded them through my own. And then I sucked Sage’s cock all the way to the back of my throat.

  It felt heart-achingly poignant to serve my soul mate like this: vulnerable, submissive, with only his climax in mind. These past months, Sage had flooded my life with creative energy, lavished me with love. And what he was doing for this community was so good…

  Sage tightened his fingers at the base of my scalp. Pulled hard.

  I moaned around his smooth flesh, took him deeper. Pressed my nipples against his legs as he filled my throat. Another strong pull, guiding my head — Sage knew I loved the sting, that delirious thrill of being absolutely controlled.

  “Slow, baby,” he half-moaned, half-laughed. “Your mouth is so fucking hot.” I fluttered my eyes up at him — felt the shock of his handsomeness like we’d only just met. I teased his balls. He pulled my hair. I clamped my thighs together to dull my painful arousal as Sage looped my long hair around his fist. He really yanked me this time, popping me off of his cock, and I stared up at him with eager eyes.

  “You’re coming with me,” he said. Then he crashed our lips together and shoved me to the floor. Tore off my clothing with a hungered anger. With another smirk, he laid on his back and beckoned me toward his face. I grinned; we hadn’t done this since high school.