SECRETS 23 contains my story
Reflection of Beauty
Christine Dawson has been haunted for months by vivid, lucid
dreams in which she must tear through barbed roses to enter
a castle and rescue a phantom lover. In her waking life, she
is a struggling artist on the brink of her first gallery show
and a chance for success.
Eric Leroux is a scarred man both inside and out with a damaged
face and emotional trauma from his youth. His wealth allows
him to hide from the world, living in solitude. But one glimpse
of vivacious Christine through a remote viewing of her show
awakens a deep-seated desire he can’t deny.
He commissions Chris to paint his portrait in order to bring
her to his secluded estate. Can she push through the barbed
thorns of his defense and reach the man inside?
Reviews
Dark Angel Reviews,
Recommended Read, Reviewer Amanda Haffery
"REFLECTIONS OF BEAUTY stole my breath away. ...I really
enjoy the fact that each story in these anthologies is different.
I get to enjoy all different types of genres from these amazing
authors and I get to move with the characters from one world
to another. The SECRETS books are some of my favorite collections
and these authors and stories are the reason why."
JERR, Reviewer Laura Scott, 5 stars
Having read most of the Secrets anthologies, I had high hopes
for this one and was not disappointed. Exotic new worlds, vampires,
witches, erotic fairy tales, Regency romps—this book had
it all. Each of the stories was well written, varied and kept
my interest throughout. The female characters were all intelligent
and strong-willed and actively contributed to the resolution
of the plots. The male characters were quite different in personalities
yet sexy and equally interesting.
excerpt
“I had the rose dream again last night.
The one where I have to tear through all those brambles trying
to get to a door that leads through the wall.” Chris sipped
her morning coffee and stared at the ring the mug had left on
the table. “You wouldn’t believe how vivid it is.
I can actually feel the scratching thorns. The brambles are
covered with little pink roses and the scent is so strong I
can still smell them when I wake up.”
“Olfactory dreaming. Interesting.” Tonya continued
to mark the items she was ordering for the shop.
“You don’t sound that interested.”
“You’ve been telling me about this Secret Garden
dream for months. I passed ‘interested’ a while
ago.”
Chris set down her cup. “Well, listen to this. Last night
something new happened. I made it through the wall.”
Tonya looked up, her brown eyes holding a gleam of curiosity
for the first time. “Really? What happened next?”
“Inside the wall was a deserted castle. I walked through
an empty courtyard and into the great hall. My footsteps echoing
were the only sound. It was really eerie, but I knew I had to
keep going.” Chris closed her eyes, summoning up the dream
that had faded like a sepia photograph in the bright light of
morning. “There was this presence somewhere inside and
I had to get to it.”
“And did you?”
“Yeah.” Chris hesitated. The rest of the dream was
too personal. She and Tonya shared explicit details about their
sex lives, but the eroticism of last night’s dream wasn’t
something she wanted to share. The almost transcendent nature
of the sex would be lost in the telling. “I don’t
remember much after that, but it was very sexy and … intense.”
Tonya propped her chin on her hand. “Hot! Tell me about
it. I need a dirty story to jumpstart my day.”
Chris laughed. “You don’t get enough from those
erotica sites you have bookmarked?”
“Hey, I have to do something to pass the time. The shop
is practically customer-free ever since fucking Hobby Lobby
opened.” Tonya nodded toward the front room where fine
art supplies and craft items jostled for space in the small
shop the two women owned. “I keep telling you we have
to lose the craft supplies and concentrate on targeting the
serious artists.”
Tonya’s voice faded away. Chris turned her empty cup around
and around in her hands as she replayed every aspect of the
previous night’s dream.
When she’d finally torn away the curtain of thorns to
reveal the door in the wall, her heart pounded with excitement.
She held her breath, expecting to wake up, but she turned the
knob and the door swung open into a shady courtyard. In the
center was a fountain with nymphs swaying in a sensual dance.
If water had been flowing, it would’ve looked like the
sprites were cavorting under a waterfall. Instead rust stains
made their nude forms bloody and dried leaves collected in whispery
pools in the basin.
Weed-choked paths wandered between overgrown garden beds where
toppled, vine-covered statues lay. The presence beckoned Chris
onward, demanding her attention and she passed through the desolate
courtyard to the dark, ominous wall of the castle. She pushed
through massive doors to enter a hall lined with armor. There
was no patronizing butler or austere housekeeper to meet her.
Her footsteps echoed in the stillness as she walked down the
hall and ascended the wide staircase.
She didn’t stop to examine the remains of faded luxury
in dust-covered rooms. The pull of the entity led her unerringly
to a door with wood so highly polished Chris could see her faint
reflection in it. This is how I will look to him, she thought.
Dark hair. Dark eyes. Dark skin. Short, sharp, intense. That’s
me.
In a hurry now to meet the presence that had summoned her for
so many nights, she pushed open the door and entered the dark
room beyond it.
At last. You’re here for me. The voice filling her mind
was deeply masculine. It reverberated in her brain cells and
throughout her nervous system, making her shiver with need.
The presence was overpoweringly male and desperately hungry
for her.
Chris was just as starved for his touch. The feminine, vulnerable
aspect of her strong personality rolled over and turned belly
up in submission. Here I am. Take me!
Her pussy clenching and releasing with each heartbeat, Chris
walked farther into the room. There was a huge four-poster bed
at one end. Bookcases and a large fireplace covered one wall.
A leather armchair stood beside the hearth, but the owner of
the room remained unseen.
Chris approached a long, oval, wooden frame between two tall
windows. Sparkling shards of mirror lay scattered beneath the
stand. Her bare feet crunched across them, the pieces slicing
her feet just as the thorns had scratched her hands. She stared
at the empty mirror frame and one remaining jagged shard dangling
there. It reflected part of her shoulder and arm but nothing
else. Where are you?
Right here. Heavy, warm hands rested on her shoulders, pressing
down for a moment before sliding down her bare arms to lace
fingers with her.
Chris was nude in the dream, but didn’t feel shy. She
closed her eyes and relaxed into the invisible stroking hands
on her breasts, stomach, thighs and sex. His touch was everywhere
at once, a subtle tickling like a warm breeze blowing all over
her body. It reminded her of the way her brush kissed the canvas
when she painted.
She leaned back to find his body, warm and solid behind her.
His mouth nuzzled the side of her neck and trailed kisses all
the way to the curve of her shoulder. Chris turned her head
to meet his soft, yielding lips. Her eyes may have been open
or closed, but it didn’t matter which. She knew she wouldn’t
be able to see him. That wasn’t allowed. She didn’t
care. All she needed was to feel him, clasping her body tightly,
exploring her mouth with his searching tongue, pressing his
growing erection into the crevasse of her buttocks. She turned
in the circle of his embrace until she faced him, her hands
roaming over muscled chest and shoulders. Reaching down between
them, she grasped his cock. It filled her hand, warm and heavy
and solid—too solid to be a mere dream.
Chris stroked up and down the shaft. At the same time, she touched
him everywhere at once, just as he was doing to her. Her body
was charged with light, her being crackling with erotic energy.
The glut of impressions in every cell of her body as they touched
one another intimately was almost too much to bear. She thought
she might come from sensation alone before he ever entered her.
This is a good dream. A bubble of laughter escaped her and shimmered
in the air around them like dust motes dancing in the sun.
A very good dream. The rumble of his voice sent a delicious
shiver through her. He was so sexy and masculine and smelled
so good. She breathed him in, hot male skin and a subtle, woodsy
aroma. He lifted her up with his hands beneath her ass and pushed
inside her in one swift, fluid motion.
Chris gasped and held on tight, wrapping her arms and legs around
him. His cock filled her completely, satisfying her open, yearning
sex. It touched a place deep inside sending waves of pleasure
surging through her.
Suddenly they were no longer standing, but stretched out on
the silk covers of the massive bed. He rose and fell above her,
driving deep inside and hitting that wonderful, magic spot each
time. The unfocused sparkles of desire darting through her body
coalesced into a strong, steady pulsing whole, like an Impressionist
painting in which dabs of color form a complete picture. Her
hips lifted to meet each hard thrust of her unseen lover. Her
body rose higher each time until she was no longer on the bed,
but floating somewhere above it.
The insistent pressure of her growing orgasm suddenly burst,
exploding in crystal shards like mirror glass that showered
through her entire being, leaving her breathless and exhilarated.
“Hey, Christine! Focus!” Tonia’s fingers snapped
in front of her face. “Are you even listening to me?”
Chris startled, almost falling off her chair. She quickly covered
by standing up. “Yeah. Of course!”
Tonia rolled her eyes. “For those who tuned in late, I
said I’m going to take first shift in the studio. I had
an idea last night I want to try out on the wheel.”
“Sure. Go ahead. I’ll open the store for the overwhelming
rush of customers.”
