What It Takes by Willa Okati

What It Takes by Willa Okati

What It Takes

Graffiti, Book 2

by Willa Okati

Changeling Press

Ebook ISBN: 01896-00593

[ Paranormal Romance, MM ]

Remy swears to find a way for them to stay together. But he’s not the one in charge of whether or not they have a happy ending. That would be up to the artist drawing their story as they live it.

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Prologue


Remy lifted his face to the warmth of the sunlight beaming down from his beloved New Orleans sky. Ah, how he loved his home! The city, she had seen so many difficult times, but she was a fighter, oui? No matter what the hands of God or men did to her, she stood strong and fought back.

New Orleans, to Remy, was living proof that men could press on through hell and come out dancing.

He took a moment to bask in the heat, breathing deep of the richly scented air. His ears filled with the hum of the city, the chatter of tourists and the bonhomie of the locals, sidewalk vendors hawking their wares and cars roaring past in clouds of exhaust and screeching tires.

When he had drunk his fill with all the senses he had, it was time to move on. Taking his guide dog’s harness firmly in one hand, Remy used the other to swing his narrow white-tipped cane in wide, tapping arcs. “Come on, Bo,” he coaxed the dog. “We go for a walk, you and me, eh?”

Remy got the feeling that Bo did not approve. Although not so old for a dog, Bo was set in his ways and not much for changes in routine. So far as he was concerned, random strolls without a specific errand in mind were asking for trouble. He’d been too well trained, though, to fight Remy’s command, and so with only a token grumble he began padding forward.

“Good dog,” Remy crooned. “My only friend, eh? It is a sad thing for a man to have no human they can call on, but who else do I need so long as I have you?” A thought flashed through his mind. “Well, a lover, yes, that would be très bon. And who knows? One might be just around the next corner. I have had a dream, did I tell you? A good dream, where a man held me tight and we passed the night in unspeakable passion.” Remy hummed in appreciation. Bo whuffed. “Jealous.”

The two walked on, Remy appreciative of the way most cleared a path for him on the pedestrian walkways. With nothing to distract him, his mind drifted away to the memories from his dreams the night before of a man. A big strong man, exactly the kind Remy liked best, who had held him so tightly they were almost one flesh. Who had kissed him and stroked his cock, and turned him light as a feather onto his stomach. He’d used his fingers, slippery with oil, to probe open a hole left untouched for far too long, dipping his tongue into Remy’s loosening pucker and licking him as if he were better than chocolat. They had whispered words of love and passion; they had groaned as they writhed together, thrusting against one another’s bodies in a frenzy of need. Even though it had only been a dream, Remy had seemed to feel the hot splash of that man’s seed on his stomach.

Remy hummed to himself as he directed Bo to go in the various directions that tickled his fancy. He was beginning to sweat faintly, and could smell the musk of his skin underneath the spicy soap he’d washed with. His legs felt loose and limber, able to walk for miles.

He would have gone on for hours if Bo had not suddenly drawn up short and refused to move. Remy cocked his head, puzzled. They were not at a crossroads nor could he hear construction up ahead. He knew the streets of New Orleans well and figured himself to be on a not so good road, the sort where graffiti artists plied their cans of spray paint against shabby walls, but safe enough in the daylight.

“Eh, what’s ailing you?” he asked, puzzled, reaching down to scratch Bo’s bullet head. “Come on, Bo. Forward.”

Bo refused to move. More, he began to growl low in his throat, hackles rising under Remy’s hand, genuinely confusing Remy. “What do you see?” he asked the dog, baffled. “Something bad up ahead?”

“I… I think it’s me he doesn’t like,” a husky male voice responded, the tone tinged with amusement. “Dogs and I don’t get along.”

Remy’s heart squeezed. He knew this voice — he had heard it just the night before, fluent in the language of love in his dreams.

That had just been a sleeping fantasy, though. Non?

“Have we met, monsieur?” Remy gave Bo a sharp rap on the retriever’s tough noggin to warn him to behave. “I think I am remembering you from somewhere.”

“Are you?” The man sounded interested. “We’ve never met in person as far as I know.” Though a joy to listen to, his voice had no trace of a Louisiana or even otherwise Southern accent. Not a local, then. Yet neither did he feel like a tourist. He had an easiness to him which spoke of long familiarity with the city. “Better late than never, I hope.” The man laid his hand, scorching and dry, on Remy’s bare forearm. “I’m… you can call me Donovan.”

“I am Remy,” Remy responded, delicious tendrils of desire spiraling out from Donovan’s touch. He couldn’t stop himself from leaning suggestively forward. “I may be bold to say so, but I think we will be good friends, won’t we?”

Remy couldn’t see the man’s eyes, but he felt their gaze scorching against him. “Very good friends,” Donovan said softly. “More than friends. You see, I’ve been waiting for you for a long, long time.”

Pulses of desire made Remy’s stomach clench. “And now you have found me, am I worth the wait?”

“Without a doubt.” Remy gasped as Donovan’s lips met his own, stealing a sizzling kiss full of teasing tongue-play and light nibbling of teeth. Donovan’s muscled body mass pressed against Remy’s, the solid length of his cock pushing into Remy’s stomach. “I’ve waited so long,” he breathed. “Watched you when you walked by. Wished. Wondered.”

Remy sensed the truth in Donovan’s words; truth, and more. Donovan’s voice burned with desire for him, a blazing need which Remy felt rising inside him in equal measure. Yet he found himself puzzled. “If you know me, if you have seen me before, why did you never approach until now?”

Donovan hesitated. “I… couldn’t. Don’t ask why. Not yet. Besides, I don’t want to waste any more time. Will your dog bite?”

“What?” Remy fought for clarity amidst his growing arousal. “Bo? No, no, he will not bite. He may make a growl, but he does not attack.”

“Good.” Donovan wrapped his arm around Remy and pulled him close. “Don’t slap me or sic him on me for this, but like I said I don’t want to waste any more time. I want you.” He cupped Remy’s chin; on impulse, Remy turned his face to the side and kissed Donovan’s palm. Donovan chuckled. “Maybe it’s mutual?”

Remy grinned, feeling cheeky. “What do you think, eh?” He arched against this amazing stranger, letting Donovan feel the weight of his own waking, aching erection. “I have a house. Some distance away, oui, but we can walk quickly. If you wish to come?”

“There’s nothing I want more.” Donovan’s mouth found Remy’s again, the kiss shorter but no less passionate. “You won’t regret trusting me. I’ll make this good for you, better than good.”

Remy purred. “And they say dreams do not come true.”

“Pardon?”

“My own little joke. I think I have been waiting for you as long as you have been waiting for me, Donovan.” Remy spoke his mind without guile. “I think that we may belong together. Strange, oui? But so it is.”

“You have no idea how glad I am to hear you say that.” Donovan laid his lips on the corner of Remy’s mouth. “How about you let the dog lead us back to your place?”

Excitement surged in Remy’s groin. “Oui,” he said, moistening his lips. “Put your hand to the small of my back, so I can feel you there. Bo, home. Home!”

This was, he felt, the beginning of the adventure of a lifetime.

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