Dance of the Crystal (14 page)

As if reading her mind, Kat lifted her arm and indicated the platinum bracelet on her wrist that matched the one her grandmother had given her at the party. “You do know that the Society is all about finding and nurturing your own sexuality, don’t you?”

Crystal nodded shyly.

“And you seemed to have no trouble shaking those gorgeous titties up on stage.”

Fire crept up Crystal’s throat and into her cheeks. “I don’t know where that urge came from.”

“It came from inside you. I can assure you, you won’t embarrass me with anything you say. After all, I’m on the board of directors of the Society. And, I was a butterfly, flitting from man to man. Until I met Magnus. He convinced me he was the only one for me when he handcuffed me to the ceiling at a cocktail party, stripped me down to my thong, kissed and finger-fucked me in front of dozens of people until I was babbling.”

She paused dramatically, sipped coffee from a china cup. “Then the son of a bitch stalks out of the room and leaves me this close—” she held up her hand, indicating a sliver of width between thumb and forefinger, “to an orgasm.”

Crystal’s mouth dropped open. She slid an astonished glance to Deirdra, who had the same reaction.

“Then what happened?”

“That’s when I realized I didn’t want anyone else to fuck me. Only Magnus.” She patted Crystal’s forearm. “So believe me, darlin’, nothing you say will shock me.”

Crystal cleared her throat. “Well.” She lifted her own cup, more to gather her thoughts than for the taste of Bucks County Coffee Company’s finest ground. “I…uh, I went down on my knees and, uh, I touched him. There.”

“It’s okay, you can say it. You touched his cock.”

“Um, yes. His cock. I didn’t get a chance to, you know, examine it before, when we were in the Jacuzzi or in bed.” Her face felt like flame. “It jumped when I kissed it. It was hot and hard and—never mind.

You know what it’s like. He moaned, and I felt such a thrill that I could make him do that, that I had such power over him. So I dared to put my mouth around it. Around his cock.”

She didn’t look up, but she saw Kat nod in satisfaction at her use of the descriptive word. “He grabbed my head with both hands, as though he was afraid I’d run away.” She barked out a short laugh. “As if I’d want to. Anyway, I pulled my cheeks together and started sucking, you know, like he was a lollipop.”

This time Crystal did take a sip of coffee. Her throat was dry just thinking about the size, the flavor of Soren’s cock, the vein throbbing on one side of it, the scent of him. She set the cup down with a clatter.

“That’s when he yanked me away from him and said ‘Don’t’. I thought I’d hurt him, or did it wrong. I’d never had a man’s cock in my mouth before. Right up until that moment, I thought he was enjoying it. The playing with his cock. But…”

Kat was silent, so Crystal continued in a rush, “When I realized what a country bumpkin I showed myself to be, I grabbed the top of my swimsuit and rushed out of there before I made myself look even more of a fool.”

“Let me get this straight. You and Soren were in the darkened cabana. People were outside, either in the pool or behind the bushes, pairing off to make love. You initiated the love-play, not him.” Kat mulled that over a minute. “Knowing Soren, I’d say he stopped because he didn’t want to fuck you in such a public place. He’s a very private man, our Soren. He hasn’t had much experience with women, to hear Magnus tell it. Something in his past turned him off. Something deeper than just a relationship gone sour.”

She reached over to squeeze Crystal’s upper arm. “Honey, there isn’t a man alive who would turn away from getting his cock sucked by a beautiful woman. There’s no such thing as doing it wrong. Even a guy without a lot of experience would just tell you how to do it to set him off. You didn’t hurt him, believe me. Guaran-damn-teed, if you two were in bed, he’d ask you to suck harder. He’d even tell you to use your teeth. No way would he stop you.” Kat stopped to sip her coffee then continued.

“Magnus told me later that Soren thought they were taking him to Mags’ stag party, because they didn’t think he’d willingly go to Rowena’s for a birthday party. So,” she concluded, “he was uptight enough to worry about what people would think. And you should cut him some slack.”

Crystal stroked the pendant hanging around her neck. It almost hummed—she could feel traces of vibration against her fingers. “That sounds logical.”

“Tomorrow is Magnus’ night to be a bouncer at Thor’s Hammer. I think we three should go there for the jazz. Saturday nights they have a combo. It’ll be packed. And,” Kat looked in turn at the two women at the breakfast table with her, “three beautiful women without escorts ought to bring a lot of bees to the honey, don’t you think? Let Soren chew on
that
while he’s filling beer mugs.”

* * * * *

By eleven o’clock, they were three deep at the bar, Soren noted with satisfaction. Youngish crowd, drawn by the magnet of the Dougall Trio. A pianist with a deep, vibrant voice like Al Hibbler, a reed man who was equally proficient on clarinet and alto or soprano saxophone, and a funky bass fiddler known to go on riffs that had patrons shutting up to goggle at him. To say nothing of how danceable their mellow old standards were. The postage-stamp dance floor was packed for every number.

Beside him, Trang worked with smooth economy, flashing her smile at everyone, making the guys happy to wait for one of twelve beers on tap. At the far corner, Old Man Peck was keeping up with the two waitresses’ tableside orders. A light haze of smoke hung over the room, the air kept breathable by powerful exhaust fans in the ceiling. For himself, he’d be happy when the new no-smoking-in-bars law took effect, even though his business might suffer.

The kitchen had closed an hour earlier, the chef and his assistants cleaned up and gone. Only coffee was available now, along with the ubiquitous peanuts no self-respecting bar would be without.

All in all, Soren mused as he built a Guinness in a chilled mug, he was right where he wanted to be, master of all he surveyed. He was done with birthday parties, swimming pools and dark-eyed gypsies who wove magic spells around him. For a virgin, she’d certainly been all over him. God! He’d never felt anything so good as when her lips clamped around his cock. It had taken every ounce of self-possession to pull her away, or he’d have fucked her mouth until he came deep inside her throat with a roar that would have been heard on the other side of the pool.

Shit!He jumped as foam surged over the hand holding the mug under the spout. And wasn’t that the first time
that
ever happened. He hoped Trang didn’t notice how much his mind had wandered, or he’d be in for a bushel of razzing. Casually he set the mug down and wiped his hand on the towel hanging off his belt, then topped off the Guinness more carefully and served it to the patron.

From a corner of his eye he saw Magnus talking to Table Six, far enough from the combo so as not to invite busted eardrums, yet close to the dance floor. His bouncer skills hadn’t been needed yet tonight.

These particular musicians apparently kept the patrons from being too rowdy. He frowned as Mags took hold of one of the men’s arms and “helped” him up. Soren wondered if the man was flagged, or maybe he’d made one too many lewd comments and someone complained. Whatever, the three men finally got up as Coral approached the group carrying three shot glasses on a tray.

Soren blinked. He could have sworn he lip-read Magnus saying “On the house”. The three guys grabbed their liquor and sidled away. Coral quickly bussed the now-empty table and Mags put down a placard. A “Reserved” sign? Since when did Thor’s Hammer offer such amenities?

He didn’t have time to ponder. Trang caught his eye, cocked her head toward Peck. Soren nodded, shifted his attention to include Trang’s patrons while she helped fill a large table order.

In the sudden flurry of order-filling, he almost missed them, the three women strolling in who had captured the interest of, seemingly, every man on a stool or standing behind one. A tall, fiery redhead cut a swath through the pack of warm bodies—Kat, he realized.
So that’s why Mags reserved the table
.

She was followed by the woman who tried to pick him up at Rowena’s party, whose unusual name escaped him. The last one in the parade—

The soapy mug slid out of his hand and bounced against the wooden pallet that covered the bartending floor. With a muffled curse he stooped to retrieve it then set it behind him on the ledge where the liquors were stored in lighted glass shelves. He’d check it out for cracks later.

Crystal. Here, in Thor’s Hammer. Face rosy with excitement, sparkle in her eyes, be-bopping her way to the table to the bouncy rhythm of “Fly Me To The Moon”. Christ, every man’s gaze went to her swaying hips. Soren made a fist under the counter. He’d as soon knock their teeth out as let them leer at her.

“Okay, boss, I’m back.” Trang nudged him, pulling Soren out of his stupor. He gave her a short nod of acknowledgement then plunged his hands into the soapy water under the counter. No skin off his nose. It was a free country. He just hoped Mags didn’t expect Table Six to be “on the house” the rest of the evening.

Dammit, he thought a short time later.
Bees to honey
was the first thought that came to him when he looked up to see Table Six surrounded by guys. Craning his neck, he saw Crystal on the dance floor, snuggling up to an overly muscled guy to the tune of “Cry Me A River”.
I’ll cry him a river with my fist

, he thought fiercely.

For a moment Soren was relieved when the man relinquished her and Crystal sat back down at the table. Deirdra, that was her name, Deirdra got up to dance with someone and two guys fought for the right to sit in the vacated chair at Crystal’s side. Undaunted, the loser pulled a chair from another table and wedged himself between them, casually throwing an arm across the back of her chair. Soren gritted his teeth.
MYOB
, he chanted inside his head like a mantra.
Mind Your Own Business.

Her sweet laugh floated through the din and wrapped itself around him. Damn, it sounded like she was having fun. He had no right to be fuming at that. He didn’t want any entanglements, right? Especially since she was the happily-ever-after kind, the kind you walked down the aisle with. He wanted no part of it.

Still, his cock swelled at the way her face softened when their eyes met through the smoky haze. She held his gaze for a moment, eyelashes at half-mast, even though someone was tapping her on the shoulder, clamoring for her attention.

The moment ended when Trang nudged him again, pointing with her chin at three empty mugs waiting to be filled.

It hit him so hard he staggered backward until his butt came into contact with the rear counter.
They’re
doing this on purpose
. It had to be Kat’s doing. Soren vividly remembered the time Rolf brought Kat here, teaching her to shoot pool while Magnus seethed with unacknowledged jealousy. History repeating itself.

Well, it wouldn’t work. Soren wasn’t Mags. He’d be damned if he’d let such a blatant ploy sucker him into anything. He didn’t even
like
women.

Still, he found himself glancing at the bar clock, wanting to make the time go faster, so he could send out a “last call for drinks” and get all those hangers-on out of Crystal’s orbit and out the door.

The minutes dragged by. Crystal danced damn near every dance. At least they weren’t all with the same guy. If that were the case, Soren would be escorting the man outside with the aid of his trusty baseball bat.

About an hour before closing, Mags sauntered up to the far end of the bar where no stools were allowed due to fire code regulations. Soren automatically filled a tall glass with ice and seltzer water, his drink of choice when he was bouncing.

“Thanks.” Magnus downed half the seltzer, set the glass on the mahogany bar. “What’s that evil eye for?”

Soren tamped down his ire. “Seems like a quiet night tonight.”

Magnus nodded. “The band keeps the rowdies down.”

“Good.” Soren removed the towel from his belt loop and tucked it on the rack. “Take my station for ten minutes, will you?”

Without waiting for an acknowledgement, Soren ducked under the counter, fully expecting—
knowing

—Mags would comply. He refused to look at the smirk on his brother’s face as he shoved his way through the crowd.

“Excuse me, I believe this is our dance.”

Crystal’s chocolate-brown eyes lit up like Fourth of July sparklers when her gaze connected with Soren’s. She made a rueful little moue of regret to the redheaded clown who’d damn well better get his hand off her ass in a hurry, or else he’d—

“Yes, it is.” She lifted her arms to him, and Soren’s heart did a funny jump as the trio segued into

“Smoke Gets In Your Eyes.”

With no preliminaries, he swept her into a brutal embrace, pressing her tight to the erection he’d been battling all night. His right hand slid down from her bare waist to her sweet ass under the same low-slung jeans she’d worn to dinner at Chica’s. His left hand pulled her arm close to his chest and set her palm against his heart. He wondered if she felt it beat as loud as it sounded to him,
ka-BOOM, ka-BOOM,
pulsing through his veins.

“You smell so good,” he murmured, burying his face in the riot of dark curls she’d left free and flowing.

He wasn’t an especially good dancer, but he shuffled his feet in time to the music and to hell with anyone not calling it dancing.

“You smell like beer, smoke and Soren.” She sighed against his neck and arched her back.

“Intoxicating.”

His cock jerked against the cotton boxers under too-tight jeans. “You’re a tease,” he growled.

She pulled back as far as she could within his embrace, and raised an uncertain gaze to him. “What do you mean?”

“Shoving your sweet tits so tight against me and breathing on my neck. And the other night. Taking my cock in your mouth and then running away.”

Abruptly Crystal stopped moving her feet. He almost stepped on them.

“You’re the one who told me to stop,” she said through clenched teeth.