Devi's Bliss: Bools 1-3 Read online

  “Call me when you’re off. I’ll come get you,” Boone said. “And then we’ll tackle that IRS problem.”

  She watched him from the doorway until the roar of his bike faded, and all she could hear was her heart pounding in her ears.

  Devi looked up from her work when Isabella entered the spa. Two of her fellow therapists, chattering away on the low-slung couches, also stopped what they were doing. Taboo, brought to work by his babysitter, Aurora, careened around the corner into her arms.

  “Well, if it isn’t everyone’s favorite jailbird,” Devi said with raised eyebrows and a grim smile.

  Isabella scooped up her mutt and showered him with kisses as her boss wrinkled her nose. She hitched her shoulders and took a deep breath, facing Aurora, who had just joined the crowd. “Couldn’t just keep it to yourself, could you?” She stormed off for the staff room, hugging Taboo to her chest.

  Aurora hurried after her. “Excuse me, Isa. I believe I was the one who bailed your ass out of jail, not to mention looked after your dog. Who, by the way, chewed my sneakers to smithereens.” She followed her into the staff room, hands on hips.

  Isabella snapped, “As if I don’t have enough on my mind—no access to my bank account, bike stolen, thrown in jail—you just had to broadcast it. Couldn’t keep it to yourself for a minute.” She slammed her locker door shut and looked at Taboo to scold him for eating Aurora’s sneakers. Instead, she ended up dodging his happy, flapping tongue.

  “I’ll replace the sneakers,” Isabella said, trying to change her clothes with one hand and hold her mutt with another.

  Aurora wasn’t done. “Forget the sneakers. What about Boone?”

  “He’s cool. I just wish he weren’t a lawyer.”

  “Ugh. When are you gonna get over that ‘I hate lawyers’ thing? He’s a decent, good-looking guy who wants to help you with your horrendous IRS problems. Are you crazy? I wouldn’t mind being lost in the wilderness with him, let me tell you.”

  Isabella tied Taboo’s leash to a chair in a corner of the staff room and removed everything within his reach except for one old towel. When he realized there was nothing left to chew, he curled up and went to sleep.

  She faced Aurora. “Maybe I am crazy. In fact, I’m pretty sure I am. You know I haven’t done well with guys since the asshole ex bolted.” She plopped onto a stool and let her face drop into her hands. “I’m sorry I snapped at you. I was embarrassed that you blabbed all the shit that’s been going on.”

  “Forget it. Anyway, this guy is different,” Aurora said. “I can see it in your face. Something about you has changed, in spite of all that went down yesterday.”

  “I don’t know. We’ll see.” She stood, changed into her kimono, twisted her hair up, and headed for the door. “I’m off.”

  “Okay. Have a good sesh, Isa.”

  “I will. And thank you.”

  “Eh. You know I love ya.”

  Chapter 6

  Several clients later, Isabella yawned deeply as she loaded the day’s last armful of sheets into the Crown Chakra room’s laundry bin. She blew out the remaining flickering candles, took a final inhale of the spicy massage oils, and headed to the spa’s reception area.

  As usual, Devi sat at the front desk, working on the books and answering calls for appointments.

  Isabella leaned over the counter. “So, I guess you know the whole story,” she said in a low tone to Devi.

  “I suppose I do. Sounds like you are having a rough time of it, my friend.”

  “Things have been…shitty, for sure.” Isabella picked at a hangnail to avoid Devi’s gaze, her stomach reeling around a tight ball of indecision.

  Never one to beat around the bush, Devi asked, “What are you going to do about it?”

  “I know someone who might be able to help. A lawyer.” She still hated saying the word. “You know that client of mine, Boone Porter?”

  “I do remember him. And your disdain for attorneys is obvious. But sometimes, you can’t get things done without one. What do you have against them anyway?”

  Footsteps sounded behind them, and they both called good night to the last client as he left. Devi leaned back in her chair, hands behind her head, waiting.

  Isabella’s old memories came flooding back, and she shuddered, even after so many years. She explained the role the lawyers played—or rather, hadn’t played—in both her childhood and her divorce. The old familiar anger welled as she recalled the devastating disappointments.

  “And as if things were not painful enough, my in-laws told massive lies to get money out of me after their son had already run my good name and credit into the ground by stealing from our business. Sleaziest people ever, and they were helped by some scumbag lawyer who lacked any scruples. God, if I ever see any of those people again, I’ll spit right in their faces.” Isabella’s jaw was so tight with anger that it hurt.

  “Look, honey, you’re smart enough to know that one bad lawyer doesn’t mean they’re all bad. Get the help you need. Take care of business. And give people a chance.”

  What would we do without our Devi?

  “I love you, Devi.”

  Her boss rolled her eyes and grunted, waving her away. “It’s time to go home. Get going.”

  Back in the staff room, Isabella scooped the sleeping Taboo from the towel he’d burrowed into and dug her cell phone out of her locker. She’d missed three calls, and she dialed her voicemail to listen.

  Call one: Ms. Raven, this is the San Francisco Bank. We wanted to follow up on your visit of yesterday and see if you’ve resolved your IRS matter…

  Rolling her eyes, she deleted that one.

  Call two: This is the Internal Revenue Service calling for Miss Isabella Raven. If you could have her return our call to discuss her tax liability…

  This she saved with a scowl.

  Call three: Hey. It’s Boone. I may have some good news for you. Text me when you’re ready for a ride home.

  Giddy with excitement, she hit redial.

  He picked up right away. “Hello?”

  “Hey.”

  “You ready to leave?” he asked.

  “I’m gonna hop in the shower.” She held the phone with one hand while undressing with the other. “What’s the good news?”

  “I’ll tell you when I see you. Be there in twenty.”

  Her heart skipped a beat as jumped in the shower, remembering the very steamy one she shared with Boone earlier that day.

  Freshly bathed and made up, Isabella stepped outside into the young evening. She leaned against the spa’s wooded exterior, closing her eyes and letting her head fall back as the waning sun caressed her face. She felt a measure of relief at having taken care of some business. Devi had agreed to take Taboo for the night, and she now had some money in her pocket, having worked all day.

  Thank god for my family of friends.

  Under the circumstances, she knew she was really pretty lucky. Of course, it sucked to be locked out of her bank accounts, have her only mode of transportation stolen, and end up in jail. But she reckoned the support network she had was probably better than she even deserved. With people like Aurora, Devi—and maybe even Boone—at her side, things had to take a turn for the better.

  Right?

  She heard him before she saw him, and as the roar of his bike got louder, so did the pounding of her heart until she nearly panicked.

  Shit, shit, shit. She wasn’t used to this, letting someone into her life, allowing herself vulnerability. What if, what if, what if…

  Stop.

  But when Boone finally drove into view, something in her settled, leaving her with the knowledge of just what had to be done.

  He pulled off the road and in an instant was next to her. Without a word, she fastened her helmet and climbed on the bike behind him. He waited for her feet to find the bike’s pegs and her arms to settle around his middle. And they were off.

  Back in San Francisco, they approached Boone’s high-rise. As they pull
ed up, the metal parking garage door clanked open. He navigated the labyrinth of parking levels until they reached his assigned spot. Another motorcycle shared his space, and Boone pulled in right next to it.

  He shut the bike down, and Isabella hopped off. Leaning it onto its kickstand, he turned the key to activate the kill switch. As their helmets came off, they were face to face for the first time since he picked her up.

  “Thank you for coming to get me.” She shook her hair out and leaned in to kiss him.

  “’Course, Butterfly.”

  “Why do you call me that?”

  “Butterfly?”

  “Yes,” she said.

  “I’m not sure. I guess because your hair ‘flutters by.’ Excuse the pun. Do you mind it?”

  “Not at all. It’s awesome. I like it.”

  He pulled her to him, and their lips met again, sending shivers down her spine.

  When Boone let her up for air, she asked, “Hey, what’s that bike doing in your spot?” It looked remarkably like hers…or the one that had been hers, which was probably now in pieces in some chop shop in South San Francisco.

  “I was hoping you’d ask.” He waggled a key in front of her. “It’s new. And it’s yours.”

  “Very funny. Are you sharing a parking spot with your neighbor?” Why was he joking about this? She was upset about her bike being gone, and the cops had no information. He could be a little more sensitive.

  “Actually…I went to the police station today to inquire about your bike. They found it in Golden Gate Park, completely trashed.”

  Isabella gulped at the information and fought back tears for the hundredth time that week. The thought of her beloved bike—the first thing she’d been able to afford after her horrendous divorce—being disrespected and abused was a punch to her gut.

  “Really?” she asked, her voice rising as it cracked. “It’s unsalvageable?”

  Boone hooked a finger under her chin and ran a thumb across her cheek to smear away a tear. “Butterfly. Don’t be upset.”

  “Easy for you to say. I loved that bike.” She sniffed. Insensitive male.

  “Listen to me. This is a new bike. And it’s for you.” He pulled her toward it, patting the seat.

  “You’re joking, right?”

  “Nope. It’s yours. All yours.”

  Isabella looked from Boone to the bike and back. She ran her fingers over the handlebars, then grasped the hand brake and released it. It was nearly identical to her stolen bike, metallic navy blue paint and all. Just a newer model.

  “Are you serious? You bought this? For me?” She was twisted by confusion. As well as hope.

  Boone put his hands on the sides of her face. “It’s yours. Believe me. It’s yours.”

  “I…I…why?”

  “Let’s go upstairs. We’ll go for a ride tomorrow.”

  He took Isabella by the hand and led her into the elevator and up to his apartment. Once inside, he lit the gas fireplace and poured two glasses of wine. Isabella stood in the living room doorway, just watching, unable to speak or even move.

  “Join me in a glass?” Boone dropped into the deep-cushioned sofa, crossing an ankle over a knee and leaning his arm over the back of the sofa. He pressed one of his remotes and a Pandora radio station joined the party.

  Isabella walked toward him slowly. “Boone. I don’t know what to say.” She didn’t know what to feel, either.

  “I noticed.” He laughed and took a sip of his wine.

  She strolled to the sofa and stopped in front of Boone, where she began to unbutton her blouse. He watched her, glass in hand, smiling. The silky fabric floated over her shoulders and down her arms to the floor.

  Boone leaned back into the sofa. “What are you doing, Butterfly?”

  “What do you think I’m doing, Mr. P?” Isabella teased, kicking her boots off. She had the urge to torment and please him, all at once. This must be what discomfort does to a semi-sane person. Hanging out with a lawyer? Who gave her a new motorcycle?

  Life doesn’t get much weirder than that.

  “Are you undressing for me?” Furrowed eyebrows gave him a stern face, but the bulge in his jeans revealed his pleasure.

  “Maybe,” Isabella breathed, turning around so he could watch her pull her jeans below her ass. Providing a view of her sheer, nude panties, she kept her back to him as she kicked her pants aside. She glimpsed over her shoulder. There was no doubt about Boone’s growing erection. He rearranged the goods to make room in his snug jeans.

  “Take off your panties,” he ordered.

  Isabella hooked her thumbs in the elastic waistband, peeling down the edges of them bit by bit until her bare ass was exposed. She left them hanging around her upper thighs and reached toward the straps of her lacy balconette bra. They slipped from her shoulders.

  “Bend over.”

  She gasped at his tone, rough and demanding—and freaking sexy. He might have the power to ask, but she had the power to give—or deny. So who was really the one in control?

  Stepping toward the coffee table, she bent just forward enough to place her hands on it, not quite leaving her bent at a ninety-degree angle, not quite exposing what she knew he really wanted to see. She was determined to make this last and couldn’t help but smile when she glanced over her shoulder and caught his stern gaze.

  “I told you to bend over.” He pronounced each word very slowly and very clearly.

  She thrilled to his tone but refused to go down easy. Feigning bother, she sighed audibly.

  Panties still dangling from her thighs and bra straps swinging, she bent farther until her elbows nearly touched the table. Now folded in half like a paper napkin, she glanced around her legs. Behind her, Boone wore unmistakable delight on his face. Holding his glass of wine in one hand, he rubbed his growing cock with the other.

  In a swift movement, she slid her panties to the floor where they puddled around her ankles. She kicked them aside. Could he see everything?

  “Step your feet apart. Farther,” he barked when she’d opened her legs only a few inches. “More, Butterfly.” Somewhere between her feet spreading a few inches and several, his voice became guttural. Good guttural.

  She obeyed and shifted her feet one at a time, partly to keep her balance but also to add a modicum of insubordination to their fun. No one wanted things just given to them, did they?

  With her feet spaced wide, Isabella’s sex was exposed from top to bottom. Air tickled over her swollen folds, and she knew her juices would soon be evident.

  “Remove the bra.”

  Okay. This will be fun. In a delicate balance of spread feet and an upside down torso, Isabella reached behind her back. Working against gravity was novel, and she fumbled until the garment snapped open. It fell from her shoulders onto the coffee table, leaving her breasts dangling heavily.

  “I love those tits. Look at them,” Boone said as he stroked himself harder through his jeans.

  Isabella began to straighten.

  “Hey! Did I say to stand up?”

  Shit. He’s not playing around, is he?

  “Now put your hands on the back of your thighs. Higher.”

  Her hands slid up to the fleshy part of her legs right under her ass. Glancing back at him from between her legs, she saw him looking exactly where she knew he would, his view made all the better thanks to her shaved pussy.

  “Now move your hands up a bit. On your ass cheeks…that’s good...okay…now spread yourself…spread it open...I want to see all of you.”

  Isabella would have felt faint even if she hadn’t been upside down with blood rushing to her head. Easing her fingers into her fleshy cheeks, she slid them as close as she could to her sex before pulling herself open. There was no doubt he’d now see how excited she was with her puffy lips and dripping, hungry pussy.

  An old R&B hit came on and in her upside-down, spread-for-the-world-to-see position, she swayed. Behind her, she saw Boone with heavy-lidded eyes, pulling out his cock from the co
nfines of his jeans. Her bent position wasn’t going to hold for much longer.

  “Fuck. Butterfly.”

  “Yeah, baby?” She backed up a little to get closer to his face, still bent in half at the waist.

  “I can smell you. So fucking delicious.” His mouth fastened on her sex. Grinding, tasting, drinking.

  Isabella cried out. She held herself open, and the only reason she didn’t fall over was that he had a steel grip on her thighs.

  “Boone!” Her breath came hard, intermingled with moans and a sound that was a cross between a laugh and a scream.

  Her consciousness floated away as she was reduced to nothing more than feeling his tongue on her sex. Up and down, from her ass to her clit, Boone lapped her, stopping for a longer visit with her opening.

  He pushed her hands from her ass and turned her toward the sofa. She didn’t know what would happen next. And it didn’t matter. She was his.

  Next thing she knew, she was on her knees, and her dizzy head came to a rest on the sofa back. His shirt tore open and his pants hit the floor behind her. A condom wrapper crinkled and joined the rest of the debris at their feet. The rubber pulled over the length of his long cock, and she could only anticipate what was to come. His fingers entered her pussy to ensure she was ready, and when he found her dripping, he groaned with approval.

  “Butterfly, I’m gonna fuck the shit out of you.”

  Isabella almost came from his words. The head of his cock teased her opening and she wiggled her ass to encourage his penetration.

  He laughed and pulled back. “Butterfly wants my cock. Doesn’t she?”

  “Please, Boone. Please.” She shook her ass again like a dog in heat. Her back arched and her breasts jiggled as she held the sofa so tight that indentations were left in the cushions.

  While the slow build was excruciating perfection, she realized Boone wasn’t going to scratch her itch on her time frame. One of her hands fluttered to her sex, and her fingers became lost in her slick folds. The head of his cock pulsed against her opening, and she spread her knees wider, lowering her head to the sofa to raise her ass higher in the air. The circumference of his cock stretched her open, and he paused until she was ready for more.