And then he slid the bra he’d chosen up her arms and fastened it.
“You bought me underwear?” She sounded so appalled that he chuckled.
She stiffened when he reached into the cups to adjust her breasts, so he took his time until her nipples puckered under his palms. He stepped back to survey the results. The push-up bra gave her the prettiest cleavage, and when she looked down, her eyes got big.
Damn, she was cute.
He dropped a deep pink top over her head. The low neckline with an edging of lace framed her breasts nicely, and he nodded approval, then added a long, silky skirt.
“What is it with you guys and pink?” she muttered, staring at the clothes.
“It’s feminine,” he said, and pulled her to the bathroom mirror. “And a damned good color on you too.”
Her mouth formed an O as she took in her appearance. The top hugged her breasts and waist, and the dark pink skirt flowed smoothly over her grabable, full ass.
“What about…briefs?”
“You’ll go without tonight,” Jake said.
She whipped around. “I can’t go without underwear.”
He crossed his arms and stared her down, enjoying the way her eyes lowered. The flush of pink in her cheeks now matched her skirt. “You can. You will. Because that’s how I want it.”
She swallowed.
He stepped back and smiled, showing her the pleasure he found in her appearance. “You look lovely, Kallie. You’re a beautiful woman. Now and then you might give us poor men a treat and dress like one.”
That she should look so confounded saddened him. Hadn’t anyone ever complimented her beauty?
“Thank you,” she said softly. Then her stubborn little chin rose. “But why no panties?”
He stepped closer and cupped her cheek and whispered back, “So that when I decide to take you-downstairs or up here-there’s nothing in my way.”
Her response was beautiful…and now he’d have to suffer from having a hard-on all through supper.
On the day before the Fourth, he settled into a chair beside his tent in his favorite Yosemite campground. He’d start a fire, make some supper. Then maybe hike one more time before sundown. The forests comforted him and dimmed the discordant noise in his head. One or two years ago-he lost track of time-he’d realized the clamor and the incoherent voices came from the evil ones. Some people, like him, could sense demonic energy-could actually hear it.
He’d enjoyed the short hike he’d just taken, and the peaceful trail had allowed his tension to ease away.
But now a woman’s shrill voice scraped across his nerves. He turned and spotted the young couple at the campsite next to him. The woman wore a purple tank top that displayed her lush breasts, and her hair spilled over her shoulders. Her dark, dark hair. Her voice grew louder as she deliberately yelled at her poor boyfriend in front of their tent, right out where everyone could witness the man’s humiliation.
He watched as the demon rose inside her and peeked out of her brown eyes, so clearly visible he was surprised everyone didn’t scream and run. But no one else saw. This was his gift-his curse.
As the demon screamed in a mind-piercing voice, the boyfriend hunched his shoulders, clenching his hands at his side. Short but muscular, the young man could have flattened her with one blow, but no, men didn’t hit women. The fool. Couldn’t he see that his girlfriend wasn’t there anymore, that a demon had shredded her soul into such darkness that it shone through her eyes?
No, instead the man simply took her abuse, feeling like a failure. A loser. Less of a man.
He couldn’t let that continue, and it would. Over and over until the man had nothing left, as the demon tore his spirit down with words and screams and insults.
Face set into calm lines, he watched her give one last high shriek and then stalk off on one of the myriad of trails leading away from the campground. Her poor victim walked into the tent. A minute later, a rolled-up sleeping bag hit the ground outside. Then a backpack. The boyfriend obviously planned to leave.
Another brother hurt, perhaps damaged forever.
He leaned forward and laced his hands together. The evil had gone up the trail, and the miasma of her passing floated above the ground, an ugly dark green like a bruise. His duty was clear; the world would be a better place without her.
In his jeans, his manhood hardened. He hated disposing of demons, of the noise, the smells, the darkness-but the heavens had provided compensation, showing him that his way was right. The scream of the demons sent masculine heat through his body, and over the years, he had grown to anticipate the battles. And the time afterward when he would show in an unmistakable way that he had the victory.
Taking his time, he wandered across the clearing and headed up the adjacent trail. Once out of sight, he slipped through the thin forest until he came to the trail the dark-haired woman had used. A heavy branch offered itself for his weapon, and he picked it up. The foul scent beckoned him onward.
Dark would come soon.
Carrying a platter of raw hamburger patties, Kallie stepped out their back door onto the low cedar deck. The hum of conversation was broken by the occasional clanking of a horseshoe and victorious shout, the screams of the younger children enjoying the waterslide, and yells of disappointment at missing a Frisbee catch or a badminton swing. The scent of barbequing meat filled the evening air, and her stomach growled. Maybe she’d have a moment to eat soon.
She set the platter on the to-be-cooked table to the right of the massive barbecue. Clad in a chef’s apron, liberally stained with grease and catsup, Morgan grinned at her and flipped another burger before returning to his conversation with Gina.
Kallie bent to pet Mufasa, who had positioned himself strategically close to the barbecue, where Morgan could toss tidbits, especially when reminded by a paw placed firmly on his sneaker. The cat rubbed her hand and then returned his attention to important matters.
After transferring cooked burgers and hot dogs to the long buffet table, she checked the offerings with the experience of a decade of Fourth of July parties. The ice under the salad section was maintaining well, enough buns were available, condiments not empty. Red, white, and blue paper plates and napkins vied with the sparkling pinwheels lined down the center. Parties went in three stages: first families with small children, secondly the ones with older children, and finally adults without children and older teens to close down the night. The first wave of hungry people had already gone through.
“Hey, Kallie, hold up a second.” Gina patted Morgan’s butt before trotting over.
“How are you?” Kallie asked.
“Not bad.” Gina pursed her lips and gave Kallie a once-over. “And you’re looking very, very good.”
Kallie flushed. “Thanks. Feels weird though.” Just before lunch, Rebecca had arrived like a military godmother with a mission, wielding makeup and clothing like advanced weaponry. Before leaving, she’d mentioned that prior to artist and cook, she’d been a manager.
