THIRTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER
The rain stopped by ten. Days ago, I’d made plans with Yvonne, Big E, and the Olsens to see the Krewe of Bacchus parade, which started on St. Charles Street and ran through the Garden District.
Yvonne had told me the parade was the big daddy, with more than thirty animated floats.
Some celebrity always came to New Orleans to represent Bacchus, the Greek God of wine.
I’d bought a gold flapper’s dress covered with black tassels, and a matching gold wig that curled under my chin. Yvonne showed up in jeans and a simple shirt but dressed it up with a mask and pink feather boa and crowed over Theo being here.
“Guess I can retire my Louisville Slugger,” she teased, and gave him a hug.
Grant and Phoebe arrived and put us all to shame with their costumes: he was almost unrecognizable as Beetlejuice, in a dusty black suit with white stripes, and Phoebe’s long red hair and flawless make-up made her a perfect Sally from Nightmare Before Christmas.
Theo and Big E both refused to dress up, the two men clapping hands and patting each other in the back.
“What,” I snorted, “you’re too old for costumes?” I asked Theo, as we headed out.
“I’m too busy trying to keep my hands off of you in that dress.”
“If I show you my boobs, will you throw me some beads?”
“Stop,” he said. “You’re making me lightheaded.”
I laughed and leaned close to whisper in his ear. “Tonight, I’ll put on all the beads I catch today. And nothing else.”
We joined the crowd near the river, where the parade ended. I’d never seen anything like Mardi Gras. Music poured out of businesses and people in every kind of costume danced, drank, and gaped at the floats trundling down the street.
I’d only ever seen the Rose Parade as a kid in Orange County.
Those floats were sweet little things, covered in pretty flowers.
Mardi Gras floats were parties on wheels: huge, elaborate and bursting with color and noise.
The first was the King’s Float—an enormous white feasting table with huge gold coins.
Bunches of purple grapes lay in front of a giant fiberglass Bacchus, raising a wine glass.
In front of him, a raised dais held the King of the parade.
“Holy shit, that’s Matthew Broderick. Matthew Broderick is King of the Parade.” I tugged on Theo’s arm excitedly, and screamed, “ Ferris Bueller, you’re my hero .”
Matthew Broderick didn’t hear me, but some of the krewe did. Teddy and I were immediately showered with ropes of colored beads. He slung a dozen of them over my neck and hauled me to him for a wet kiss.
“Our babies all grown up,” Yvonne sniffed dramatically, her arm around Big E.
The big guy wiped a nonexistent tear from his cheek. “I’m so proud.”
“I’m going to die of jealousy.” Phoebe pouted. She gave her brother a dirty look. “Why do I hang around you so much?”
“Good question,” Grant retorted.
I smiled against Teddy’s lips, basking in happiness. Such a relief to have friends look at us with only joy and affection.
The parade carried on into the evening. I jostled Teddy’s arm as an enormous alligator in bright green made its way down the street.
Thousands of strings of brightly colored beads dripped from its open mouth, and its krewe—two dozen people in blue and silver—threw beads and plastic coins at the cheering spectators.
Another float called the Bacchawoppa, resembled Moby Dick, if Moby Dick had been kidnapped by drag queens.
The giant whale was painted to look as if it were wreathed in colorful seaweed, and its krewe threw beads from within the rolling blue waves surrounding it.
Night fell fast. Big E gave Yvonne a ride home, and Grant and Phoebe took off with other friends.
Theo and I watched until the last float passed, then meandered through the Garden District, past groups of revelers in sugar-skull makeup, street musicians playing saxophones and accordions, groups of friends draped in beads and holding sloshing drinks in their hands.
The city was intoxicating enough for me, its streets pulsing and breathing. Even the shadows danced.
I felt my pulse quicken, exhilarated by the night and by the man beside me. His eyes met mine, burning with a hunger that made my legs tremble.
Theo took an abrupt turn, heading down an alley between a café and a smoke shop. In the shadows that smelled of sweet cigars, he pressed me against the wall. His body, hard and strong, pinning mine, his hands all over me, his mouth crushing mine.
I moaned into his mouth, my own hands clawing mindlessly at the muscles in his back, crawling up to his soft hair.
My legs parted, wanting to wrap around his waist so he could take me right then and there.
His hand slipped under the swaying tassels of my flapper dress to cup between my legs.
His fingers found the sweet spot through silken material that dampened under his touch.
My body undulated against the wall with the force of him, stoking a rising heat.
I clung to his neck, astonished at how fast he was driving me to climax.
“God, yes,” I hissed through, then nearly cried out in agony as he took his hand away. Then Theo dropped to his knees, lifting my dress.
“Oh God. Oh God, wait. Teddy…”
“You want me to stop?”
I glanced around the deserted alley, realized the passersby on the street couldn’t see us. “No.”
He went back up my skirt and tugged my panties aside.
Then his mouth was on me, and I had to bite back a scream.
It took seconds for his tongue to suck and lick me through a titanic wave of pleasure.
I flailed against the wall, nothing to hold on to but Theo’s shoulders as the ecstasy flooded me.
My head fell back against the bricks, and I stared at the muted stars above my new city.
Still Theo didn’t stop. He delved deeper into me, his tongue and grazing teeth and the deep vibrations of his grunting voice driving me toward another crash. He went at me like he was a starving madman, and I was his feast, the only thing that could satiate him.
A second orgasm ripped through me, and I gasped soundlessly, my voice whispering through the alley when I really wanted to scream. I needed to scream. I needed to have Theo naked, in my bed, where I could ride him until he came. And then make him come again.
Theo came up from under my skirt, his face flushed red in the meager light, his lips and chin wet with me.
“Home,” I whispered. God, it seemed so far away. Too far.
We looked hopelessly for a cab, standing hand in hand on the street, breathing heavily, my wig askew, my lipstick smeared.
By some miracle, a cab pulled up near us and we ran for it, diving into the back almost before its passengers had finished getting out.
In the slow crawl of traffic, Theo shifted beside me, restless and impatient.
His hand landed on my thigh, over my dress.
I looked out the window, bit at my thumbnail and spread my legs ever so slightly.
“God, Kace…” he breathed.
His hand was large and rough and warm on my skin. I shifted again, pressing into his touch, and his hand slid higher up my thigh. I tilted my hips, needy and desperate. I bit back a tiny cry, as his palm slid over me, his fingers pressing down in small circles.
My hand crept across his lap, to the bulge in his jeans. He was hard and hot through the dense cotton, and I stroked the length of him.
I bit my lip harder.
The cab ride was maddeningly slow. The keys to my front door wouldn’t cooperate.
Too many steps from the door to the couch, where I pushed him down.
Just enough light came from the kitchen to see Theo’s eyes dilate with desire.
I could tell by the clench of his jaw and the way his eyes raked over me, he wasn’t going to wait much longer.
I tore off my wig and hurled it away, then peeled the dress off my body and let it pool at my feet.
“Take your shirt off,” I said and reached behind to unclasp my black lace bra.
Theo grabbed the back of his collar and hauled his shirt over his head and tossed it aside.
I didn’t know if I’d ever get used to the sight of him shirtless—lean muscle covered in beautiful ink down one pec.
The other side glinted with that piercing that made me lose my mind.
I stripped off my panties, leaving me in a garter belt, heels, and a dozen ropes of colorful beads.
Slowly, I knelt in front of him. My hands glided down the tops of his muscular thighs, then back up on the inside.
I reached for his buckle as he bent to kiss me—a searing kiss, his tongue brazen in my mouth.
I unzipped his pants and freed the hard length of him.
“You’re so beautiful,” I said. It wasn’t the most masculine word, but I meant it that way. His masculine form, every part of him, was perfectly beautiful in my eyes.
“Fuck,” he said through gritted teeth as I put my mouth on him and around him, my hand stroking him slowly, then faster. I would have taken him all the way, but he gripped my shoulders.
“Kace,” he managed. “I want to be inside you. Now .”
I rose from kneeling and straddled his lap. Beads hung over my breasts, but he roughly brushed them aside to get at my nipple, biting and sucking as I sank down onto him.
We both froze for a heartbeat, feeling him inside me, hard and heavy, buried to the hilt in my wet heat. His hands dug into my hips, driving up into me as I ground down against him.
“So good,” he hissed tightly. “God, you feel so good.”
“Don’t stop…” I cried, almost incoherent now. “Never stop.”
My hands found his jaw, held his face and kissed him deeply. Then I let go to grip his shoulders and ride him hard, ride him until the ache in my lower belly unfolded, expanded and then detonated. I could scream now. I yelled his name out, my back arching as his own orgasm erupted inside me.
His arms wrapped around my back, and he pressed his forehead to my heart, nuzzling my breasts through beads. I pulled back and held his face in my hands, staring down at him, brushing the damp hair off his forehead. Off of Theo’s forehead. My Theo.
My universe.