Devi's Bliss: Bools 1-3 Read online

  Aurora held Isabella’s shoulders and looked at her with intensity. “What the hell happened? How did you end up in here?”

  “I’ll tell you everything. Just get me out of here.” Isabella looked around, surprised she was so suddenly free, and dragged her friend out the door.

  Once inside the car, Aurora asked again, “Okay. What the hell is going on?”

  Isabella fought back tears as she listed the day’s events. Her voice broke as Aurora took in the story with wide eyes. When she was done, she gusted a huge breath and let her head fall against the seat’s headrest, eyes closed.

  “Isabella. One thing at a time. This IRS business is out of control. Would you please hire a lawyer? Get it taken care of once and for all!”

  “I know. You’re right. I have to get this fixed. And in the meantime, my bike is gone, and I have twenty dollars in my wallet. The bank took away my goddamn debit card!” Expressing this last detail brought her to the end of her rope, and the tears returned in an explosion.

  “I—I just don’t understand…how they could freeze my account? I—I have bills to pay. I’ve done nothing wrong,” she wailed, her face falling into her hands as sobs racked her shoulders.

  “All right. We need a plan, Isabella. What can we do?”

  She looked at Aurora through tears. “You know that client you met the other day, Boone Porter? He’s a lawyer. And he works with the IRS a lot. He wants to help me. But I told him no.”

  Aurora’s eyes popped wide open as she turned to face Isabella. “You are fucking kidding me. Are you an idiot? What are you holding out for? Hell to freeze over?” She yanked on her seat belt, put the car in drive, and inched into the traffic that would lead them toward her apartment. “We’re going to my place. I brought Taboo there earlier. And you will call this guy.”

  “Oh shit.”

  “What? What now?” Aurora gripped the steering wheel until her knuckles turned white. Was this the day she was going to finally lose her patience with her friend?

  “I had a date scheduled with him tonight. For dinner. And I missed it. You know, jail will do that to you.”

  Dinner. Forgotten.

  “For crying out loud! Call him, then!”

  Isabella fished through the pockets of her new leather jacket, which the cops had confiscated during her brief visit with them, trying to find her phone. “I don’t know. It’s so late.”

  “Call him,” Aurora shrieked. “Or I will.”

  Isabella looked at her friend. “Will you just drop me at his place? Please? I know where he lives. I want to talk to him face to face.”

  “What’s the address?”

  Isabella told her, and Aurora whipped the car around to head to the city’s fashionable but high-rise packed South of Market district. She pulled up in front of Boone’s building.

  Aurora turned to face her friend. “I’ll watch Taboo. Please go get this mess taken care of.”

  “I will. Thank you.” A final tear slipped down Isabella’s cheek, and she blew her nose into the tissue Aurora had given her. She smeared on a bit of lipstick and took a deep breath. “I’m on it.”

  She watched Aurora’s car get smaller in the distance and when it was gone from view, she took a deep breath.

  Here goes.

  Close on the heels of two visitors to Boone’s high-rise building, she slipped inside a heavy security gate before it slammed shut and locked. The couple, laughing and holding hands, paid her no notice. They approached another locked door that led to a large lobby where a sleepy-looking doorman sat just inside. Isabella found herself surrounded by a commercially landscaped courtyard featuring the latest style of succulent plantings, and a small water fountain, probably someone’s interpretation of Asian ambiance. She stared at the steep glass walls lining the courtyard, windows to the lives of people winding down for the day and getting ready for bed.

  A key scraped in and out of the front gate’s lock, grabbing Isabella’s attention. Her head spun toward the creaking hinges and she stepped into a shadow as she thought through her next move.

  How do you just show up at some guy’s house at eleven p.m.?

  The gate clanged shut, and as footsteps drew closer, so did a familiar voice. She peered around a tree to confirm her suspicion.

  Darned if it wasn’t the voice of Boone Porter.

  And Boone Porter was not alone.

  His arm was casually slung over the shoulder of a woman nearly his height in her high-heeled boots. They were deep in conversation, and when she said something to make Boone laugh, he hugged her with a kiss on the cheek.

  It was a good thing Isabella had not had dinner, because it would be coming back up, right now.

  Boone and his friend made no notice of Isabella as they passed her by and their chitchat was too quiet to hear. Always the gentleman, Boone held the door for the woman and they disappeared into the building lobby past the doorman.

  Bile rose in Isabella’s throat, and she clutched her stomach. When the lobby door clicked shut, she leaned against a concrete wall and closed her eyes. Her knees buckled, and she settled herself onto a bench as she waited for a wave of nausea to pass, marveling at the ability of a crappy day to get even worse. She shimmied out of her leather jacket, the gift from Boone. Crunching it up in her hands, she wondered if this had brought down the day’s deluge of shitty luck.

  She rang the bell to the lobby, and the doorman buzzed her in.

  She stepped up to the desk and handed him the bundle of crumpled leather. “Could you please give this jacket to Boone Porter?”

  “Certainly, ma’am. I just saw him come in. Would you like me to call him for you?”

  “No, no thank you. I just wanted to drop this off for him. Thank you.”

  Isabella slunk back to the courtyard bench to consider her next move. Twenty dollars to her name. No bike. And the hot lawyer who’d been pursuing her had actually been playing her. How much freaking worse could things get?

  Actually, they could get worse. Her cell phone battery had one bar left.

  Uncertain whether to laugh or cry over her shit day, she departed the courtyard with no plan other than to start the long walk to Aurora’s place on the other side of town.

  She’d not gotten half way down the block when she heard the footsteps behind her. Quick, heavy footsteps. Male and urgent. Maybe she’d get mugged just to make things really peachy keen.

  Then they turned into a trot, and she felt a familiar rage erupting through her body as she looked around the deserted sidewalk to assess her surroundings. If anyone was going to fuck with her, they had another thing coming. In her pissed-off condition, she pitied the fool who might try to take her on.

  Stepping under the glow of a streetlight, she whipped around to confront who or what was following her. As she did, she screamed, “What the hell do you want?”

  Oh.

  It was Boone Porter. Running for her. Maybe to catch her?

  “Hey, Isabella. Wait,” he called.

  What the hell? She turned and kept walking, her strides as long as she could manage.

  “Isabella, hold on. C’mon, Isabella,” he called after her.

  His hand on her arm stopped her, but she wouldn’t look at him.

  “The doorman told me you dropped this jacket with him, so I ran down to catch you. What happened to dinner tonight? What’s with the jacket? And why are you running away from me?”

  “What do you mean what happened to dinner tonight? What happened with that woman I just saw you enter the building with?” For the umpteenth time that day, a lump rose in her throat and her heart broke a little more.

  Don’t let him see you cry.

  “What? Isabella, she’s—”

  “Oh shut the fuck up. I don’t want to hear it. Take that jacket and shove it up your ass.” She shook out of his grip and started walking.

  But he grabbed her again.

  “Isabella, listen to me,” he said with a raised voice.

  “No. You listen to
me. You’re a scumbag lawyer just like I knew you were. You’re just like all the others.” Despite her efforts, her voice cracked and her chin shook. The tears started to spill.

  “Isabella. That woman is my sister. When you flaked tonight, she came to take me to dinner.”

  She stopped yanking against his grip and froze. Her mouth dropped open.

  Ooops.

  “So will you please tell me what happened? What is going on?” His lined face looked tired.

  She met his eyes but couldn’t focus. Tears distorted her vision, and her chin quivered so hard she couldn’t manage a word. Her heart pounded in panic. “I…I…” She buried her face in her hands. “I’m such an idiot.”

  Boone’s arms extended and she fell into them, burying her face in his chest.

  “Butterfly. C’mon.” He wrapped the jacket around her shoulders and stroked her hair as he led her back to his building. “Please tell me what’s going on.”

  Once inside, he nodded at the doorman, who politely glanced away from what must have looked to be a lovers’ quarrel. At the elevator bank, Boone untangled Isabella from his arm. She tried to hide her red, puffy face.

  He hooked a finger under her chin to look directly at her. “Do you want to come up? Or would you rather I drive you home?”

  Her voice was still unsteady, so she nodded. “I’ll come up. Please.”

  “Okay.”

  As they entered the apartment, the tall woman who’d accompanied Boone into the building got up from the sofa and approached Isabella, hand extended in greeting. “I’m Boone’s sister.”

  “I’m Isabella.”

  “Isabella,” she said with a smile. “I’ve heard a lot about you. Sounds like you have an awesome bike.”

  Taking a deep breath, Isabella said, “Well, I did.”

  “What? What happened?” asked Boone.

  Before Isabella could recount the events of the day, Boone’s sister kissed her brother on the cheek, said good night, and let herself out.

  “What is going on?” Boone asked once he settled her on the sofa.

  So she shared the day’s news with him, every last gory detail—the freezing of her account, her bike being stolen, getting arrested, Aurora bailing her out, and then finding him with another woman.

  “Have you ever heard of a shittier day?” she asked.

  “Good grief.” He shook his head in disbelief. “I don’t believe I have. It sounds like you get the gold medal for the day from hell. I guess tomorrow can only get better.” He gave her a hopeful smile.

  Isabella burst out laughing and slapped his shoulder. He was so right. “God, that’s so true. There is, honestly, nowhere to go but up.”

  “Seriously,” he added. “I’m really sorry. I wish I could help.”

  “You have helped. Thank you,” Isabella said, burrowing into his chest again.

  “I’m tired, Isabella.”

  “Me, too.”

  “Are you spending the night with me?”

  She nodded. “If you’re inviting me.”

  His bedroom was a sprawling minimalist space with a giant king bed and expensive-looking stereo speakers. She was wondering where all his clothes were when he pressed on the wall, and a giant hidden closet door opened. Once inside, drawers opened and closed, and he returned with a T-shirt for her. The soft cotton was heavenly against her skin, and she slipped under the fluffy down comforter, never more grateful for some reassuring comfort.

  By the time Boone returned from getting her a glass of water, she was dropping off to sleep. He stripped to his boxers and joined her in bed, spooning as she snuggled right into him.

  “G’night, Butterfly.”

  Isabella woke the next morning unsure of her whereabouts. Looking around the room in a panic, she spotted Boone next to her, and her pounding heart slowed. The clock on his nightstand said eight a.m., and she stretched and groaned.

  Boone stirred. “What is it?”

  “I’ve got to get going. I have work.”

  As she ripped off the T-shirt she’d slept in, Boone propped himself up on one arm, the sheet slipping to reveal that rippled chest. His sleepy voice and bedhead were damn tempting, and a shiver reminded Isabella how attracted she was to this man. Maybe there was no need to rush out the door…

  “What time is work?” he asked.

  “Ten. I don’t have to be there until ten. Do you think I could get a ride from you? Please?” She bit her lip as his gaze traveled over her body, clad only in sheer black panties.

  “Take a shower with me first.”

  Now, that’s an offer.

  He took her hand and led her to a sleek, modern, Architectural Digest-style bathroom. Because, of course.

  Each stood under their own stream of water in a spacious double-fixture shower. As steam filled the air and condensation collected on every surface, Boone turned Isabella to face away, tilting her head as he worked water through her hair. A bottle cap snapped open behind her, and he began to massage her scalp with the most delicious-smelling shampoo.

  Holy shit. A guy. Is washing. My hair.

  Her eyes fluttered closed. Drunk with sensation, she had to put a hand on the wall to keep from falling over. The water from one shower head beat down the front of her body, and behind her, Boone lathered her tresses from scalp to tips. As he performed his magic, his hard-on bounced against the crack of her wet ass, and she took a millistep back to press herself against him. His breath caught in her ear, and his cock got harder as she shimmied to meet his thrust.

  Once her hair was rinsed, Boone’s lips were on her neck and shoulders, his hands wandering to caress her breasts. He tugged her wet nipples hard, and she groaned in a mix of pleasure and pain. Continuing to pinch and pull them between thumb and forefinger, he abruptly released her tortured flesh when she cried out for mercy. Her delight was magnified by spikes of pounding water. Isabella’s fingers dove between the swelling lips of her pussy, stroking and fingering her aching flesh as the hot water turned her fevered skin bright pink.

  Boone spun her around, and their ravenous lips crashed together. Her fingers flew from her sex and got lost in his hair as she pulled him toward her with all her weight. There would be red, raw lips later, but that didn’t matter right now. All she knew was that she had to have him the way she needed the sun and the air, misgivings be damned.

  She released his hair and for the first time, she ran her hands over him purely for her pleasure. Not his. Her breath hitched when she caressed his broad back, landing on the hardest ass she’d ever felt. Traveling around to the front of his body, her hands helped themselves to his stiff cock and swinging balls.

  Boone released his mouth from hers and groaned into her shoulder. “Butterfly…”

  With the shower water lubricating her hand, she ran her grip the length of his erection and closed it over the head, already releasing a slick drop of pre-cum. She slid her hand over his shaft for several strokes before she slowly lowered herself to a squat, his dick at lip level.

  Her eyes closed against the pelting shower as she flicked the head of his cock with her tongue. He shuddered as she tasted him again, lapping at his salty excitement. She took him into her mouth, concentrating her licks on the sensitive tip. Inch by inch, she swallowed him into her mouth until she could take no more.

  She pulled his cock out of her mouth and looked up at him through the cascading water. He moved the shower spray and their eyes remained locked as she ran her tongue from the base of his cock and back around the head. His groans made her pussy tingle, and as she held Boone’s cock in one hand, her fingers dipped in and out of her slick opening.

  “Suck me, baby.” He groaned, placing one hand on the shower wall to hold his balance, and the other on her head, gripping her hair.

  She drew him all the way into her mouth, inhaling to open her throat. With her lips closed around his cock, she increased her suction and gripped his sac, massaging his balls in time with her sucking. His breathing rasped, and he roared as he
pumped his hips into her face. Although her eyes streamed with tears from the choking sensation, she didn’t stop until his explosion began. As his cock throbbed, she drew it out of her mouth to let him shoot all over her her wet tits. His voice boomed, and she reveled in the power she had to make him feel good.

  “Oh fuck, baby. Holy shit, I’m still coming.” He grabbed his cock and directed the last of his cum on her hard nipples.

  She dragged her fingers through the white drops, and one by one licked them clean while Boone squeezed the last of his juices from the tip of his still-hard cock.

  He helped her to her feet and they rinsed once last time. Shutting down the shower, he reached for two fluffy white towels, wrapping one around Isabella’s shoulders as he toweled her off with the other. She basked in his attention and their mouths melted together again in a tangle.

  Once dry, they helped each other dress. Isabella buttoned Boone’s shirt and buckled his belt, and he helped her step into her jeans and zip her boots. She began combing out her wet hair, but Boone took the brush from her hand and tackled the tangles himself.

  He washes hair. Then combs it out?

  Either he was a secret hairdresser or the fucking hottest, tough-sensitive guy on the planet. Her eyes closed as she rocked with the gentle tugging of the brush in her wild hair.

  Due at work in thirty minutes, Isabella pulled on one of Boone’s extra motorcycle helmets, having left hers in the back of Aurora’s car. In the basement garage, he backed his bike out of its parking spot.

  “I never thought I’d take a ride on a Harley.” She tilted her head at him. Maybe Harley’s weren’t so bad…

  “You’ll love it, just wait.”

  When he signaled, she hopped on the passenger seat, closed his face shield for him, and wrapped her arms around his waist. He roared into the street, heading for the Golden Gate Bridge and on to Devi’s Bliss, with Isabella’s hair flying from beneath her helmet.

  Boone pulled up to the spa a quick fifteen minutes later, and Isabella dismounted the bike. They lifted their face shields just enough to touch lips. Before she disappeared into the building, she turned to wave at the last minute.