Through the Mirror Read online

  * * *

  eXtasy eBooks

  www.extasybooks.com

  Copyright ©2008 by Adriana Kraft

  First published in extasybooks.com, 2008

  * * *

  NOTICE: This work is copyrighted. It is licensed only for use by the original purchaser. Making copies of this work or distributing it to any unauthorized person by any means, including without limit email, floppy disk, file transfer, paper print out, or any other method constitutes a violation of International copyright law and subjects the violator to severe fines or imprisonment.

  * * *

  CONTENTS

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  About the Author

  * * * *

  Through the Mirror

  By

  Adriana Kraft

  The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.

  Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage the electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author's rights is appreciated.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Through the Mirror

  Copyright ã 2008 Adriana Kraft

  ISBN: 978-1-55487-031-8

  Cover art by Martine Jardin

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher.

  Published by eXtasy Books

  Look for us online at:

  www.extasybooks.com

  CHAPTER ONE

  —"Tell me again why I should want to go to bed with you,” Lacy Hogan said in the most sultry voice she could manage. Her fingers toyed absently with the neckline of her soft knit shell. The air in her university office seemed heavier than normal.

  Doug Forsyth cleared his throat. His dark brown eyes studied her intently from across her desk. “Because we'd be good together. You know that."

  "I don't know that,” she said, too sweetly. To fuck him, or not to fuck him—that was the question. It was tempting as hell, but fucking him would violate a number of her rules. She didn't mind breaking other people's rules, but she hated breaking her own.

  "There's only one way to find out,” Doug countered, his eyes suddenly snapping. “You are an experiential researcher, aren't you?"

  She grinned in spite of herself. Too bad she enjoyed their banter so much. “That I am. I'll travel across the world to study a primitive culture, but that doesn't mean I'll jump into bed with every guy that interests me."

  "Ah.” Doug arched an eyebrow, his voice soft. “So I do interest you."

  Trapped. Damn. “Maybe. If I didn't find you interesting, I wouldn't spend so much time with you.” He'd been sniffing around her for months. The history department offices were on the next floor up, so they'd had ample opportunity to bump into each other. She didn't doubt that he'd arranged some of those initial encounters, but then, so had she. They'd routinely shared lunch and they'd visited some Boston museums—for professional reasons, of course, since his field had so much in common with hers as an anthropologist. The urgency in Doug's voice refocused her attention on the present.

  "So how interested are you in finding out how we'd hook up in bed?"

  "Not enough. If I really wanted to know, I'd just bend over my desk and find out right now.” Lacy felt her nipples hardening, challenging her lie. Why had she even said that? Doug started to rise from his chair so she held up a palm. “I don't get involved with married guys.” Which was another lie.

  "That's a technicality,” he huffed as he sat back down, “and you know it."

  "Separated, but not divorced is not the same as divorced and available."

  "Divorce takes time in this state."

  "I can wait.” Stupid, actually. He was safer in her book if he wasn't free. She didn't need another man to take her to bed with commitment on his mind. She'd gone down that road and been left hanging with a broken heart. Never again.

  His nostrils flared. “What if I can't wait?"

  She'd seldom seen Doug's darker side. Lacy steadied her nerves. “I'm sure there are lots of women out there who wouldn't care about your status. Maybe you should try one of them."

  "But I don't want one of them.” His voice grew thicker. “I want you."

  Lacy tried to ignore the hairs prickling at the nape of her neck. Damn, that sounded good. “Why me, Doug?"

  "You're stalling. Maybe I can't resist a tall, curvy blonde.” He paused. “Hell, you know why? You're fun to be with. You have an eager mind. You're attractive. And...” he smiled and pointed toward his crotch, “you turn me on."

  Lacy couldn't hold back a chuckle. “Yes, I have noticed that more than once.” She glanced at his sizable erection and her breath caught in her throat. “He does seem willing."

  "Eager and willing to please. And, I turn you on. Look at your nipples."

  She didn't have to peek at them—she could feel the ache and strain. This whole conversation was spinning out of control fast. Probably her own fault. “I don't deny we have a certain chemistry,” she finally countered.

  "Then why won't you have sex with me? Why deny what we do have?"

  Lacy shifted in her swivel chair and squeezed her thighs tight. Hopefully he couldn't see that move. And hopefully she wasn't staining her panties. “I'm not ready, and I don't know if I ever will be. Maybe we should stop hanging around together so much."

  This time Doug sprang to his feet. “No, don't be rash. I'll back off."

  Lacy stood, walked around her desk and placed a hand on his bicep—firm to the touch. Another plus. She liked men who cared enough to stay in shape. “Thank you. I'm not saying I won't. And I'm not saying I will.” She reached down and squeezed his bulging penis, rose on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek. “I do enjoy being with you. But I'm way behind on grading papers. Later.” She brushed the back of her hand against his lips and turned toward her desk.

  Doug was almost out the door before he lobbed his parting salvo, “You're a minx and a tease, Lacy Hogan."

  She grinned and blew him a kiss. “You're absolutely right, and isn't that part of what you find appealing about me—touchable, yet forbidden?"

  His eyes narrowed and darkened. “Perhaps. But don't try toying with me forever. I'm not a glutton for punishment. At some point soon you'll have to deliver or I'll have no choice but to move on. You might wonder what you'll miss if I do."

  The thud of her office door felt dangerously close to final. She'd better make her mind up soon—he was right. She'd strung him along just about as long as she could. She didn't take his words as an ultimatum, only as reality.

  Damn, it had been all she could do to keep from pulling his zipper down when she'd traced the outline of his erection. She'd definitely creamed when she'd felt his cock twitching against her fingers. Delectable and dangerous. If she chose delectable, could she survive the danger?

  Lacy sighed and picked up a red pen. Those questions would have to wait. She really did have a lot of papers to grade.

  * * * *

  At the end of the day Doug sat in his apar
tment nursing his scotch on the rocks. The drink burned his throat, but that burning couldn't compare to the heat in his loins. He was pretty sure he'd met his match in Lacy Hogan. If she could deliver even a fraction of what she promised, it just might work out.

  She sure tried to convince him she was on the wild side when it came to sex. She'd taunted him more than once by telling him how she'd done a guy. There was the bus driver in Vegas she'd blown when she'd been the only passenger left at his last stop. The librarian in England who'd helped her find more than dusty books in the depths of the library. Or the shaman in Ecuador who exposed her literally to a circle of seekers around a dying fire. She'd said she couldn't remember how many had taken her that night—male and female—but she'd rather blithely chalked it up to her anthropological research.

  He knew he'd love Lacy's body. Either she hardly ever wore a bra or she only wore very flimsy ones. He loved watching her nipples pebble when their conversation got hot, as it often did. She had a rear end that undulated with promise. How often had he imagined her writhing underneath him with pure pleasure?

  All that would be plenty for a great romp, and he hoped to hell he'd get a taste—but she was much more than that. He loved her laugh, her zest for life, her creative mind. He set his drink on the end table and sank back into his living room couch.

  If he was reading her right, she wanted him almost as much as he wanted her. So what was holding her back? His divorce? That was only a matter of time. He'd sure guessed wrong about that short-lived relationship. Helen was a lot like Lacy on the surface, full of risqué promise—but it had all been a hoax. He'd have to make damn sure he didn't fall into that kind of trap again. That was well worth biding his time.

  He reached between the folds of his robe and stroked his swelling cock. It was easy to imagine Lacy's fingers gliding up and down his throbbing shaft. He'd nearly come in his pants in her office when she'd squeezed him. He'd resisted palming her pussy. Maybe that's what he should have done. Would she have slapped him or hoisted her skirt? Did she really think she was completely in charge of their little erotic game?

  A tiny pearl drop peeked at him from the tip of his penis. He smiled and pictured Lacy making a show of flicking at it with her tongue before finishing him in her mouth. His hand movement quickened, mirroring his vision of her mouth.

  * * * *

  Lacy stood in front of her bedroom floor to ceiling mirror examining her body closely. She frowned. It wasn't that she didn't like how she looked, but weight gain was a constant struggle. She lifted her arms above her head, appreciating the rise of her full round breasts. Even at thirty-two they had plenty of uplift. Many lovers counted those as her prime assets.

  She brushed her fingers lightly across her belly and scowled at her thighs. That's where she could have potential problems. They were too big by her standards, but she'd tried every diet she knew of with minimal effect. She was stuck with what some would call peasant thighs, very accommodating for lovers who weren't into bones.

  She twisted around and stared at her buttocks. More than one lover had sung praises about her ass. It was a highly charged erogenous zone. Curvy, just right for the time being. Hopefully she could keep it that way. She shrugged. She'd never been the type of woman her name suggested. Lacy. She should've changed the name years ago. There wasn't a damn thing about her that was lacy or frilly. And that's the way she wanted to keep it.

  She crossed her arms and sucked in her tummy. She needed to get back into exercising. A couple aerobic machines sat in the basement gathering dust. She had enough self-control to hold off Doug. Why not enough to exercise?

  Clearly, Doug maintained an exercise routine. She'd patted his biceps playfully—they were as hard as rocks. And he didn't seem to have an ounce of fat on him. His broad shoulders had been firm on those few occasions she'd allowed him to hug her. His strong hands had roamed her back and settled on her rear. She shivered with the memory. His eager fingers had severely threatened her self-control. But she hadn't caved in to raging hormones.

  He'd nearly snapped earlier in her office when she tossed out the possibility of fucking her on her desk. When he'd started to rise from his chair, she knew he was only a few breaths away from ramming his cock into her pussy as she clung to the desk top. She'd been more than a little disappointed he'd respected her raised palm. Next time, maybe she wouldn't lift a finger to stop him.

  Why was she so bent on titillating the man? She had to be driving him nuts. She'd told him more about her sex life than she should have. And she hadn't stretched the truth very much. She'd blown the bus driver in Vegas because he'd gone out of his way to help her. And blowing a guy wasn't exactly a big deal. She grinned. Would it be a big deal for Doug?

  She had sort of stretched the shaman orgy. She still got chills thinking about that moonlit night in Ecuador. The elderly shaman had first mesmerized her with his eyes, then with his long, hard cock. She'd lost track of the others sitting around the circle. He'd amazed her with his ability to remain hard while she had orgasm after orgasm. She'd finally lost consciousness. The next morning she'd awakened in the arms of a beautiful young woman who had boldly admired her as she had stripped for the shaman. Everyone that morning smiled at her as if they knew secrets she did not. The young woman had told her everyone in the circle had sampled her during the night. Her aching muscles couldn't deny it. It had been up to the young woman to love her last. Lacy squeezed her eyes shut. She still wished she could remember that night. It must have been absolutely incredible.

  So she'd stretched the truth a little—or at least, stretched what she remembered. She'd gleefully watched Doug's erection harden as she'd embellished her story. He'd challenged her about her research objectivity. His jaw had dropped when she'd blithely informed him it wasn't the first or probably the last time she'd cross that line in a native culture if that's what it took to gain trust and acceptance. She was hardly the first anthropologist to reach that ethical decision. Fortunately she enjoyed sex.

  She smiled grimly at her reflection. How much longer? And why did she even try to bother derailing their lust? And that's what it was—pure lust. That shouldn't frighten her. Lust never had.

  So why hadn't she fucked him already? She tried to fathom the nagging sensation that gnawed at her whenever she seriously thought about Doug. He was the marrying kind of guy—that had her hung up. He'd want to tame her and groom her for a wife. She wasn't about to be wife number two. No way. Still, he had her on edge imagining how his cock would fill her. Hastily, she pulled open a dresser drawer and grabbed her favorite vibrator. When she got this edgy there was only one way to dull her senses so she could get to sleep.

  She flipped it on and set it to a slow speed. She cupped a breast with one hand and slid the vibrator across it lightly. The tingling sensations shooting through her breast were immediate. She lifted the breast and flicked her tongue at its swelling tip. The rim of an erotic precipice beckoned. There was no time for waiting. She placed a foot on her makeup bench, bringing her blonde curls into focus in the mirror. Her pussy lips were already puffy and obviously moist. She lowered a hand to her belly while teasing her breasts with the vibrator. She parted her pussy lips.

  Nodding at her mirrored image, she brought the vibrator to rest beside her unveiled clitoris. She gasped and bit her tongue. Shaking her head from side to side with want, she moved the vibrator to her damp opening and eased the tip inside. Her loins hummed and she moaned with pleasure. Her body shook, seeking more, so she quickly impaled herself on the vibrator.

  She squinted at the mirror, losing track of time, losing track of herself. She quaked and quivered. She held a hand out to the mirror to maintain her balance. She squeezed her eyes shut and began pumping her thighs, driving the vibrator deeper and deeper. With her eyes shut, it was his cock inside, filling her completely.

  The buildup behind her loins was suddenly volcanic. She couldn't hold it back if she wanted to—and she didn't want to. She thrust her hips forward and backward
until she fell to her knees and rested her head against the mirror. Somehow, Doug's lust-filled eyes stared at her from deep within the mirror.

  Her breathing steadied. At last she eased the vibrator from her depths. She licked it clean and smiled at the mirror. Did Doug masturbate thinking about her as often as she did thinking about him? She'd love to watch him.

  Slowly she stood, feeling more relaxed and right with her world than since he'd left her office. She folded the sheets back on the bed and climbed in.

  * * * *

  The sight of Lacy romping through the foot-deep layer of autumn leaves with total abandon brought a broad smile to Doug's face. Boston was never more colorful than during the fall. The leaves had brought out the whimsy in Lacy. He'd never known anyone, male or female, who seemed so at one with the world. She embraced life—seemingly everything it had to offer. He scowled. Except him.

  "Come on. Don't be a stick in the mud,” Lacy shouted, scampering through the leafy carpet covering this corner of the Commons.

  He raced to catch up with her. She slipped and collapsed on a leaf pile. He fell down beside her and her giggles filled his ears. She grabbed hold of his shoulders to right herself. He folded his arms securely around her. She tipped back her chin and smiled at him before raising her lips to his.

  He greeted her soft kiss gingerly. Maybe she wasn't aware of what she was doing. He held back, waiting for her next move.

  She nestled against him without breaking their kiss. When her eyes finally opened they were filled with mirth—she knew exactly what she was doing. She eased away and picked at the leaves clinging to their clothing.

  "So, did that mean anything?” he asked, unable to keep annoyance from his voice.

  "Yes,” she said with a wisp of a smile on her lips. “It meant I wanted to kiss you."

  "And?"

  "I'm a believer in spontaneity. And this was a safe place, don't you think?"

  "I don't think we're going to strip off our clothes and make love here, if that's what you mean."