The Redeemable: Part Two Read online

Oz knelt on the end of the bed between my knees, reaching up to run his fingers over my collarbone and down my surgical scar. My skin prickled at his feather light touch as his fingers kept whispering down, over my navel and the slight swell of my stomach, to the waistband of my own jeans. He ran his fingers from one hip bone to the other. He flicked the button with one hand, his other hand slipping under my lower back to lift me up. He peeled my skinny jeans down, until I was just there in my panties. White lace this time. No pandas in sight. I'm pretty sure my panda panties were still in Lux’s bedside table.

  He leaned forward and caught the edge of the lace between his teeth, and I lifted my butt so he could drag them down over my hips with the help of his thumbs. I could feel his hot breath cooling the wetness of my panties, and I was beginning to squirm. “Oz…”

  His fingers hooked them and pulled them down my thighs and off my feet. Then he palmed my knees apart and kissed the insides of my thighs, first one and then the other. I buried my hands in the soft strands of his hair, gently urging him to where I wanted his mouth. Okay, not so gently. He let a deep chuckle, and took my clit between his lips. And he sucked hard. I bucked off the bed. Then he moved his mouth back to the tops of my thighs, nipping them gently.

  My gentle Oz was being wicked.

  He leaned on his elbows, parting my thighs a little more with his shoulders. He placed his hands under my ass and squeezed, before lifting my pussy to his mouth, and running the full length of his tongue along my slit like I was his favorite triple scoop.

  “Oh my…” Words failed as he gave it another long lick, his tongue flicking on my clit at the end. He did that over and over, just lapping at me, until I had one hand wrapped in his hair and the other anchoring me to his duvet.

  “Please, Oz, please,” I begged. My body was hot and restless. I was so close to something big. I just needed a little more.

  He stiffened his tongue, and buried it in my pussy, stroking and swirling, as his nose brushed my clit. I was moaning so loud it was almost a scream. With one last hard thrust, I came, coating Oz’s face in my juices. He swirled his tongue around my clit one last time as I rode out my orgasm. Damn.

  I pulled him up to me, letting his hard body cover mine.

  “Where did you learn to do that?”

  “YouTube.”

  I laughed. “Really?”

  He kissed me, and I could taste myself on his lips. He kissed my jaw, then the hollow beneath my ear.

  “Hell yeah. You can learn anything on YouTube.”

  I ran my hands down his back, over the hard ropes of his muscles as he rested above me. He had a great ass. I just wanted to dig my nails into it.

  Oz’s hand came up and cupped my breast, his thumb rolling against my nipple. Like I was toggle on his Xbox controller. Well, at least all that gaming had made his thumbs dexterous. His mouth moved down to my nipple, and he flicked his tongue over it before sucking it gently between his lips. He steadily pulled on them, sending lighting right down to my core.

  He rolled off and laid beside me, spooning my smaller body into his. I felt the long hardness of him pressed along my ass.

  “We’ll take this slow, okay? Just tell me if you need me to stop,” he said against my ear, then slid his lips to kiss the back of my neck. I felt the head of his cock parting me, sliding into my soaking wet core, hitting every hot point on the way in. He let out a long groan, whispering my name on each breath. He lifted my thigh, spreading me wider to take him deeper.

  “Oh. Oh. Oh.”

  I was consumed by sensation, every inch of him stretching me. With one last grunt, he thrust himself to the hilt, bumping my cervix.

  “Oz. Oh fuck. Oh fuck.” I’d never felt this before, this sensation of being so full that it almost hurt in a weird pleasure pain.

  “Are you okay?”

  I nodded, and hoped he caught it. He slid back and moved again. My vision went spotty, as my breathing got ragged.

  “You think this is what they mean when people say ‘fuck me sideways?’”

  “What?” I tried to turn but he just slid out and slid into me harder. What was the question? Once more and I was coming again, wave after wave of pleasure sinking me in bliss. But he wasn’t done.

  He stilled, giving me a minute to catch my breath. How he stayed so still, buried balls deep inside me, was a marvel. Someone should give him sainthood just for that.

  Too soon, and not soon enough, he was moving in me again, harder this time, slamming himself into me until his movements were a ragged mess. Our bodies were a slick with sweat and cum and the only sounds in the room were our combined moans and the slapping of our bodies.

  He reached around, one hand sliding up to cup my breast and the other one circling my clit, and that was it. I came again. I screamed his name, and it echoed around the room, probably around the whole apartment. Oz came on a yell.

  “Cady!”

  A few more thrusts and he stilled, his breathing coming out in heavy pants between my shoulder blades. My heart beat erratically.

  “Wow,” he whispered. “That was definitely worth waiting a decade for.”

  “You haven’t had sex in a decade?” I gasped out.

  “I haven’t had sex since Luc brought us back.”

  “You guys have been here ten years?”

  “Mm,” he murmured into my hair.

  “Weren’t you lonely?”

  He rolled me in his arms, so we were nose to nose. “Desperately. But not anymore.” He kissed me gently on the lips. “Sleep, Arcadia. We won’t be alone again.”

  Except I was dying.

  I was going to break Oz’s heart, and just the thought made my own crack in two.

  Chapter Four

  I woke to some killer beard rash between my thighs and chest hair itching my back. It was the best feeling ever. I snuggled back further into the warmth of Oz’s body, and his arm tightened across my stomach.

  I could really get used to this.

  Ace sniffed. I bet you could. Hot bod, and packing some serious heat in those tighty whiteys.

  “Good morning, Beautiful,” Oz’s voice was scratchy with sleep. I turned in his arms and kissed his cheek. We’d made love twice more last night, and I was pleasantly sore. I was going to need to put an ice pack on it or something.

  “Hey.” I was so content, that I could have happily laid in bed with him forever. Except I had to pee. “I'll be right back.”

  The apartments were all pretty much set out the same, which made finding the bathroom easy. I did my business, checked what kind of conditioner he used because seriously his hair was super soft, and was back in his doorway in a flash.

  I moved back towards the bed, but my eyes snagged on the framed newspaper article. I hesitated. I desperately wanted to know, but didn't want to ruin the good vibes we had going.

  “Grab it, Cady. You aren't going to be able to rest until you know.” He was right, but I still didn't want to ruin the moment.

  My curiosity won out in the end. I picked up the frame and read the article heading.

  12 Die in Apartment Fire.

  The article was dated December 26th, 1973.

  “Bring it back to bed. I'd rather tell this story with my arms wrapped around you.”

  The frame felt impossibly heavy as I slid back into bed and laid down in the crook of Oz’s arm. I ran my eyes over the print. The pictures that were too blurry last night were the pictures of two kids, a boy and a girl about ten, their smiles wide.

  “The twins, Elise and Robert. They lived in the apartment next to mine. Their mother worked nights and their grandmother babysat. She was a holocaust survivor. She survived Auschwitz, just to die in an apartment fire. The twin’s mother lost her whole remaining family that night.”

  I hadn't noticed the smaller photos that lined the bottom of the article. Ten more pictures. He pointed to an older woman, her hair in a thick white bun. “That's Greta, their grandmother.” He pointed to two smiling twenty somethings.

&nbs
p; “Samantha and Tony only got married and moved in a month before. They were the apartment opposite mine. No smoke alarms in the building so by the time Tony woke, Samantha had succumbed to smoke inhalation. He tried to carry her out but only made it to the bedroom door. They found him shielding her body with his, but they were both dead.”

  His finger moved towards two women. “Karen and Paige. They were both artists. Karen was a photographer and Paige was a painter. When the fire hit Karen's darkroom, their apartment when up pretty quickly. They died in their beds. Next to them was Frank.” He pointed to a guy in an army uniform. “He'd got half his leg blown off in Vietnam, and his wife left him. He was passed out on his couch. Didn't feel a thing.”

  His fingers pressed into the glass over an old Chinese couple. “The Wangs. I still don't know how old they were, but they were sweet. Mrs Wang would buy me a jar of lychees every month and leave them on my doorstep. They didn't speak a word of English, but they were always smiling. I don't think they had any children in America. They were the only couple who escaped their apartment. They made it to the stairwell before smoke got them. The firefighters got them out but they both died in hospital a few days later.”

  The last two pictures were of a woman in her early twenties, and Oz.

  “My girlfriend, Vanessa. I ruined her life. Got her knocked up because I was too lazy to get a rubber out of my bathroom, so she dropped out of college and moved in with me. She was four months pregnant when I got super stoned, put cooking oil on the stove because I had the brilliant idea to deep fry Twinkies, then passed out on the couch waiting for the oil to heat up. It caught fire and killed twelve people. I went directly to hell for murdering eleven other people, twelve if you count my own unborn child, because I was a lazy, good for nothing, sloth.”

  His voice was rough. He swiped at the tears on his cheeks with the back of his hand, and cleared his throat.

  “So now you know my tragic origin story.”

  I put the frame down beside me on the blankets and wrapped the big vulnerable man beside me in my arms.

  “I'm so sorry.” He turned in my arms and buried his face in my neck.

  “Shh. It's okay. You are a different man now. It was a horrible accident that had terrible consequences. You just have to live better this time around.”

  I felt his nod against my neck. “I will.” A deep breath. “Let me run you a bath. You have a date in the kitchen soon.” He kissed my throat and rolled out of bed.

  I shamelessly watched his ass as he left. My poor Oz. Such terrible guilt in his eyes, staining his soul. I would do whatever it took to save him.

  A very long, luxurious bath later, where Oz washed my hair in a conditioner that was apparently made by some woman out in Cali who sold it through her new age shop, I left Oz's apartment in a pair of cut-off shorts and a tee.

  I ran into Eli coming home from night shift in the elevator on the way to Valery's apartment.

  “How are you feeling, Arcadia?” He asked, giving me a once over.

  “I'm good. Actually, I need to ask you something. I, uh, well, Lux and I and then Oz and I…”

  “Had intercourse?”

  “Right. Should I be worried about diseases or whatever? I should have thought about it before but you know, my brain seems to switch off.” I wasn't worried about babies. The treatment for the Hodgkin’s Lymphoma had destroyed my fertility.

  Eli smiled. “Don't worry. We are technically in suspended animation, zombies as you say. We can't give you anything as we can't contract anything. We also can't impregnate you for the same reason. We do not have the gift of real life so we can't gift life. Trust me, we would know. There would be literally hundreds of little Orion’s in New York alone. Not to mention the other guys. Don't stress. I believe that until our mortality is regifted to us by being redeemed, we are as sterile as the dead. Have fun. But not so much fun that you put stress on your heart,” he added sternly.

  The lift doors opened at Valery's floor.

  I stood on my tiptoes and kissed his cheek. “Thanks Eli!” That was a load off my mind. I didn't want to get a 70 A.D version of syphilis with no known cure.

  I knocked on Valery's door, and he opened it shirtless, flour dusting across his bare chest. He wore a pair of black pajama pants.

  “Uh, hey there.”

  “Cady, bonjour. Come in, come in.” He ushered me into that amazing kitchen. I let out a long contented sigh. So pretty.

  Ingredients littered the benches in organised chaos. In the center, on a beautiful China plate patterned with swirling pink roses, sat the most beautiful plate of bite sized French Pastries and desserts. I was drawn to them like a moth to a flame. There was a mille-feuille, a perfect rectangle of opera cake, a chocolate dome that shone under the overhead lights like glass. There was also a thing that looked like a pastry doughnut stuffed with cream, some kind of double cream puff drowned in ganache and a mousse with a madeleine biscuit perched on the rim of the glass.

  “Did you make all this this morning?”

  Valery laughed. “No. Some I made yesterday morning. I am compiling my summer menu, and I would like your opinion on desserts.” I sat down eagerly on a stool on the opposite side of the breakfast bar.

  Valery went to the oven and pulled out a tray of golden croissants, moving them to the cooling rack with practiced ease that all chefs had. It's like they lose all heat receptors in the tips of their fingers.

  I was totally going to fail redeeming Valery. I was probably going to end up in hell with him for the sin of Gluttony. Hey, at least I'd have a friend.

  He picked up a spoon from the bench and came over to lean on the bench opposite me.

  “I want your honest opinion, mon chere.” He used the edge of the fork to cut through a section of the Mille-feuille. “White chocolate and raspberry mille fueille, or Napoleon slice. Over 700 layers of pastry, a white chocolate and raspberry cream and finished with fresh raspberries.” He held the spoon to my mouth and I obediently opened my mouth. As soon as the sweet cream hit my tongue, I let out a moan. It was perfect. Tart, sweet, flaky. I wanted another bite.

  “That is amazing.”

  “Merci, but we are not finished yet. Is the dessert too simple? The combination too overdone?”

  “I think it's classic, understated but incredibly well made.”

  He made a humming noise, and wrote in a notebook.

  Next, he got a piece of the opera cake. “L’opera cake. Orange and cardamom flavour. A simple twist on a visually impressive dish.” I eagerly took the spoon in my mouth. It was amazing. So delicate but packed with flavours.

  “I think I may have just died and gone to heaven.”

  “There was never any doubt where you will be headed, my sweet.”

  Dessert after dessert he fed me, his hungry eyes watching my mouth as I wrapped my lips around the spoon. He'd watch my face as the tastes exploded on my tongue, and then he'd ask my opinion and write it down.

  I didn't know foreplay could come in the form of chantilly cream, but by the time we got to the mousse, I was ready for him to paint it on my body and lick it off. Slowly.

  He'd moved around the bench after the Paris-Brest. Yeah, I'd giggled too. But apparently it's the name for the pastry doughnut thing. It was amazing as well, obviously. The guy could cook and he looked damn fine doing it.

  I'm pretty sure the fantasy where he did me right here on the kitchen floor was becoming my new number one.

  “You have to stop looking at me like that, Ma Cherie. I am trying to be a gentleman.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “Why?”

  I meant it as a question, but somehow it came out as a seductive invitation. This sex kitten was totally getting claws. Accidentally.

  “Because, we barely know each other. I want to be sure that you actual desire me, and it's not just Lucifer's magic that makes you want to make love with me. Also, if I'm not mistaken, you spent the night with Oz, no?”

  I nodded, and blushed. Awkward.


  “I have known Oz a long time. I think making love again this soon would put too much strain on your…” his eyes dipped down to my lap then back to my eyes, “heart.”

  A laugh escaped my lips, and grew until I was doubled over, trying to suck in breaths. Valery began to laugh as well, and I discovered that Valery laughed a bit like a goose; loud deep honks of sound. This made me laugh harder until I thought I was going to die from asphyxiation if I didn't get a breath.

  I looked at the floor and deep breathed through my nose. I hadn't laughed that hard in so long. I leaned forward and kissed Val gently on the lips. He leaned into the kiss, his hand curling around my hip. He tasted of dessert, decadent and sweet.

  His tongue ran over my teeth, and I bit gently, before his tongue darted in and his mouth was devouring mine.

  The French really did know how to kiss. By the time he pulled away, I was panting.

  “You should go now, before I forget why I was being so noble, oui?” He stood and there was a tent in his pants.

  I'm pretty sure that there have been so many tents in this apartment building since you arrived that we should change the name to Dicks Sporting Goods.

  I laughed.

  THAT IS A GOOD ONE, ACEREZEAL. I HAVE MISSED YOUR SENSE OF HUMOR. I HAD A MEETING ON WALL STREET AND WISHED TO SPEAK TO MY CONSORT.

  I winced as the Devil's voice hurt my brain.

  LUC, PLEASE. OR LUCIFER IF THAT SUITS. THE DEVIL MAKES ME SOUND LIKE I'VE GOT HORNS AND CLOVEN HOOVES.

  There was a subtle warning in his tone. I swallowed hard.

  I'll try. It just slips out.

  Ace snorted. Don't worry, he's just being sensitive. Speaking of slipping out, do you remember…

  I blocked her out. That story was definitely not going anywhere g-rated and I had enough mental scars for the moment. I didn't need to imagine her and Lucifer getting freaky.

  Valery was in front of me, concern etched across his handsome face. Every time I saw him, the picture of him from the history book overlaid itself in my mind. Handsome, but his expression in the painting had been so arrogantly cruel.

  “Are you okay? Are you in pain? You have gone very pale.” His hands ran down my arms, searching for invisible wounds.