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Knock Three Times [His Love Slave]
by Honey Jans

Category: Erotica/Paranormal Erotica
Description: Mix together two star crossed lovers, a magic lamp, a hunky reluctant genie, and a goddess who bears a grudge and you have Knock Three Times. Chemise finds a lamp in the antique shop she's just inherited from her aunt. It bears an inscription which says "Knock Three Times". She does just that and a hunky genie named Lucien appears before her. It turns out that she's his beloved and their love was fated to be. But the course of true love does not run smoothly, what with warring goddesses and an evil genie trying to put an end to them!
eBook Publisher: Whiskey Creek Press, 2010
eBookwise Release Date: April 2010


8 Reader Ratings:
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Available eBook Formats: OEBFF Format (IMP) [183 KB]
Words: 40779
Reading time: 116-163 min.

Chapter 1

Chemise Logan tucked a wisp of strawberry blond hair behind her ear as she fumbled with the old freestanding safe's dial. Trust her eccentric aunt Betty to leave the combination in a cryptic note, along with the deed to the antique shop, when she decided to go off on an extended adventure in Egypt. The note intimating that she'd find her life's greatest treasure inside this monstrosity had been intriguing but she wasn't getting her hopes up.

This was just not Chemise's day or even her month for that matter. In fact her life had become a series of disasters of late. The first and most devastating was being fired from her job at the museum after the scroll she was conserving spontaneously combusted as she was working on it. She knew there had to be a logical scientific explanation for the fire but she hadn't come up with it yet.

Then on top of that, Barry Lattimer, her fellow conservator and sometimes beau, had put the blame on her before publicly dumping her. She'd always known that he was ambitious, but she hadn't realized what a craven coward he was until they were confronted by the outraged museum director, Dr. Edwards. Barry had crumpled like a wet paper bag and left her to take the heat.

Now she faced the possibility of criminal charges while Dr. Edwards tried to prove that she'd been negligent, even though he would no doubt collect big time from the museum's insurance policy. Her girlfriend Miko's suggestion that the scroll had burst into flames because of a curse still made her smile. She didn't believe in all that hocus-pocus nonsense; she was a scientist and she knew she hadn't been careless. There had to be a logical explanation. But living under a cloud of suspicion sucked.

If that trio of disasters wasn't bad enough, she now had her thirtieth birthday party to get through tonight...dateless. She wasn't quite sure she was ready to face the glam squad, her sure to be pitying ex-coworkers, yet. Not with her future in jeopardy. Gritting her teeth, she gave the stubborn safe's dial a hard twist. To her shock it loosened with an audible click that echoed through the deserted shop. Halleluiah! She let out a relieved sigh. At least something was going right.

Auntie had been so protective of this safe--paranoid, even--when she'd tried to peek inside it as a child. So consequently, the safe's contents had to be interesting, maybe even valuable, at least she hoped so. Going through the mystery goods would keep her occupied until Janelle, the glammest of all her old work buddies, came to pick her up for the party at Charlie's Bar and Grille.

The safe's heavy door swung open with an audible creak that made her shiver. It sounded like something out of an old spooky movie. But she didn't believe in ghosts. Brimming with excitement, Chemise bent down to cautiously peer inside the old freestanding safe and saw exactly nothing. Letting out a disappointed groan, she scanned the big safe's nearly empty shelves. Some treasure!

Had Betty sold everything to keep this rat trap afloat, or maybe there had been nothing here in the first place. She felt a twinge of sympathy for her eccentric aunt, the proud woman who'd left her the antique shop, and told herself to suck it up. Aunt Betty would hate being pitied as much as she did.

Then a glint of gold from an object tucked way back on the safe's top shelf caught her eye. Pay dirt! She reached inside and drew out a jeweled pendant, knowing instinctively that it was solid gold. Drawing it into the light she gazed down at the image of Isis, Egyptian goddess of love, fascinated. Wow! It was exquisite. Her hands trembled a little as she held the necklace, feeling its antiquity. It couldn't be real. Aunt Betty wasn't likely to have a genuine artifact, but it was precious to her just that same.

The pendant had to be part of the Egyptian tourist junk that had flooded the market after Lord Canarvon unearthed King Tut, but it was expertly done. She slipped the exquisite necklace on, thinking it the perfect accessory to set off her plain turquoise dress, and felt a sense of warmth overcome her as it nestled in her overly plump cleavage.

It was then that she spotted another metallic object tucked away in the back on the same shelf. It was too big to be another pendant...a priceless statue perhaps? Yeah and pigs would fly sometime soon. There was no way that her luck would turn from bad to good that fast. Still the treasure hunt was fun, not to mention distracting.

Her heart raced as she reached into the safe and wrapped her fingers around a warm metallic object. Strange, she'd expected the metal to be cool to the touch not warm. Intrigued, she pulled her curious find out into the light and gazed down at an ancient Egyptian oil lamp. Now this was the real thing. She could feel the item's antiquity; the former curator in her was as excited as a schoolgirl. It didn't matter if she made a dime from this shop when she could touch beauty like this.

Why had Auntie stuck this treasure away? It belonged in a museum. Cartouches decorating the artifact told her it had belonged to someone important. Roughly translated, they read, Knock three times. She smiled and did just that, rapping three times on the table.

The lamp warmed even more, vibrating under her fingers. Thunder clapped outside, rattling the floorboards of the old building and her along with them. Letting out a cry of alarm, Chemise fell back against a dusty fainting couch as a long trail of steam escaped the lamp with a hiss. Watching in disbelief, she saw the mist instantly solidify into solid male perfection before her eyes. Naked male perfection, she amended, looking at miles of tanned skin. Good golly, she was obviously hallucinating, but what a sexy way to go crazy. She must have hit her head when she landed and was now unconscious...yes, that made sense. But staring at him, she couldn't work up any regret. Woo-hoo, happy birthday to me! When she went off the deep end, she did so with gusto, dreaming up her very own private love genie. But at least she'd picked a dream lover who couldn't give her away. She watched his glare focus on the lamp still clutched in her right hand.

Her fascinated gaze swept over the phantom genie she'd dreamed up, focusing on his stirring cock. Wow, what a package, and it was all hers. His body heat, his very presence wrapped around her, making her blush. She gulped and managed to tear her eyes off his truly impressive manhood, not that she'd seen that many others to compare him to.

Her stunned gaze traveled up, past six-pack abs and broad shoulders, and finally focused on his handsome, scowling face. Why was he scowling at her? As their eyes met, an unexpected wave of lust hit her, taking her breath away, making her stop thinking. He was irritated and sexy as hell, and his whiskey-brown eyes seemed to read her thoughts. He was wearing a pendant just like the one she'd found in the safe which was now nestled between her breasts. At the thought of it, the pendant seemed to heat up in her cleavage.

When his hot gaze ghosted over her breasts, she felt it like a stroke. Chemise's sex grew wet and her nipples budded tightly as if he'd touched them. How is he doing it? Her lips tingled along with the rest of her as she stared at his sensual mouth. It didn't really matter how he worked his sexual tricks as long as he satisfied her. He was everything her wet dreams could have conjured up. Obviously her mixed up mind knew she needed to get laid to get over the traumas of late.

He frowned and ripped his pendant off. "If she sent you to fetch me, vixen, tell her to screw herself."

Vixen! She'd never thought of herself as a vixen. She watched in shock as he opened his palm and the pendant he'd torn off vanished into thin air. Of course he'd speak English--she'd dreamed him up--but his British accent coupled with his fury took her by surprise. She pushed away from the fainting couch and her knees buckled. His hand instantly shot out to steady her catching her before she could fall. When his strong hand wrapped around her forearm a jolt of electricity went through her and she let out a sensual whimper. No wonder the lamp had felt hot with him inside it. It brought up the wild question of how he'd feel inside her. When she glanced at him, his smirk told her he'd read her errant thoughts. Well hell, he ought to come wrapped in asbestos.

"She chose well," he said, tugging her toward him.

Chemise couldn't help being entranced by the brooding hunk even as he handled her like she weighed nothing more than a rag doll. Barry's ending shot that she was fat and frumpy echoed through her mind making her feel the humiliation all over again. But the genie's hold tightened on her arm as if he sensed that her mind wasn't on him. That snapped her back to him, leaving Barry in the dust where he belonged.

She locked gazes with her sexy genie, a fine tremor going through her as every sexual circuit in her body turned on, responded to him even though he wasn't actually doing anything to her. His body heat transferred to her as he relentlessly drew her to him. She licked her lip and watched his eyes darken at the action. Ooh nice. She creamed. She'd always dreamed of a demanding lover, not that she'd ever had the guts to admit it. She only dated safe men like Barry, who couldn't see past her dowdy image. And sex, there had been precious little of that in her life up to now, but in a moment that would change.

This was different. The sexy genie now turning her into a puddle of mush was only a fantasy. Even she could come on to a fantasy. Then they collided and she let out a moan pressing against him like he was a magnet. "Holy moly, what a hunk," she blurted out, flicking her tongue out to taste him. She took a little lap at his nipple and listened to him groan as it stiffened under her tongue. His cock jerked as he rubbed it against her. She was actually seducing him.

"No," he gritted out, pushing her away.

She glared back at him. Well hell, he certainly wasn't acting like a dream lover now.

Barry's words, "You're fat and frumpy and no man would want to sleep with you," played across her mind, making her sigh.

The genie stared at her, hard. "What does she want?"

The question tore her mind off the sad state of her love life. Bewildered by the sexy genie's aggressive tone, she asked, "She?" The way he rolled his eyes told her he thought she was lying. What the heck?

"The goddess you serve. Isis." He focused pointedly at her pendant displayed in her open cleavage.

Isis! Her breath caught in her throat as his hot gaze ghosted over her cleavage once more. It was then that she noticed that three of the top buttons had come undone on her sundress and her curves were practically tumbling out of the garment. Her nipples jutted out, stiffening diamond-hard as his appreciative gaze lingered on them. What was he, some kind of sexual catnip? This was so not the sophisticated way she wanted this to play out. Her chin rose mutinously as she tried to get her racing hormones under control. "Goddess I serve?"

His eyes narrowed. "Don't lie to me, vixen. I will not tolerate it."

The implied threat made her angry and she glared back at him. She would have to dream up a nut to sexually satisfy her. "I serve no goddess, only myself."

"You wear her image."

"So did you." His expression turned remote at her words and she wondered why. She could feel his suspicion, his anger, as he focused on the pendant she wore. It was obvious that there was no love lost between him and the goddess. What would engender such antipathy? She studied him seeing a nerve pulse in his tight jaw. Then he looked at her and she saw the pain in his eyes. He was hurting for some reason and he needed her.

She sighed, feeling responsible for him. It wasn't his fault he was mentally off-kilter. Everything she touched lately was a little off, especially the scroll she'd somehow destroyed. The loss of the ancient book of spells that had combusted before her eyes still pained her. Why should the genie she'd dreamed up be any different? "Should I call you Genie?" She watched the corners of his sultry mouth turn up with reluctant humor, and she relaxed.

Now that was more like it. The smile made him approachable--yummy, even. Her lips tingled as she stared at his sultry mouth. She so wanted a big bite of him. She knew she was desperate for sex when her urge to jump her hallucination was almost irresistible.

"Why should you call me Genie? My name is Lucien."

She savored the name thinking it fit him but couldn't resist teasing him, "I thought all men who emerged from magical lamps were genies."

"Not if they had the job foisted on them by an unscrupulous evil genie. I was working on a dig in the Valley of the Kings when Zander captured me to serve out the needs of his mistress, Isis."

She watched him turn from seductive to ice cold in the blink of an eye as he turned away from her. It didn't stop her from studying him curiously. She tried to keep her gaze above the waist but it was hard to miss his still rampant cock. So he was an Egyptologist who'd been the love slave of a goddess. Now that back story she would have dreamed up, seeing that her passion was Egyptian antiquities.

He gazed around her shop. "What kind of rubbish shop is this?"

Rubbish shop. She glanced at the cluttered shelves filled with assorted dusty collectables and sighed, understanding his comment. Her former co-workers had voiced similar opinions, putting her on the defensive. That was another reason she wasn't looking forward to her birthday bash. Aunt Betty's tastes had certainly been eclectic, but she'd had a good eye. "This is Aunt Betty's Antique Shop." Her chin rose as her pride kicked in. "I sell old things, like you, hot stuff."

His turned to focus on her his eyes narrowed. "I am not for sale, Aunt Betty..."

It was almost like he was used to being tricked. "I'm not Aunt Betty, so you've nothing to fear from me on that score," she said with a smile, hoping to reassure him. "I inherited the shop from her. I'm Chemise. Miss Chemise Lawson." She held her hand out to him. Time seemed to stand still as he hesitated, making her wonder if he'd play nice. She looked into his stormy eyes and almost regretted her friendly gesture. This fantasy could prove dangerous.

Then he took her hand and she felt a pull as old as time. His fingers wrapped around hers, hot and work-roughened, and like a moth to the flame she couldn't stop herself from leaning into him, feeling his potent strength. She bit her lip, holding back a moan as his stiff cock pressed against her hip and something forbidden opened deep inside her psyche. Nestled close against his tempting hot body, she closed her eyes, embarrassed by her primal reaction, as he bit out a low curse.

"Hell, I've no time for this," Lucien muttered, but he bent to nuzzle the nape of her neck anyway.

Great, leave it to her to conjure up a reluctant genie. Panting, almost swooning in his arms, she stiffened, prepared to reject him first. She wasn't some charity case. If he didn't want her he could just poof back into the lamp and she'd get on with her life. She pulled back to tell him so, then hesitated when she saw the sweat on his brow. He was fighting his desire for her. It was a balm for her wounded pride.

When Lucien's smoldering gaze swept over her breasts; she arched toward him knowing that she needed to make the first move, to free him from what she didn't know. His tactile gaze touched her just like before and she could swear she felt him touch her there. Her nipples budded tighter as she pressed against him, aching to have him inside her. Her clit tingled and her sex grew creamy as her arousal grew exponentially.

His sultry smile said he knew how she was feeling even if he wasn't happy about giving in to both their desires. Hell, he was probably a mind reader too. He couldn't just cut and run on her; she'd dreamed him up, damn it! "You can't go," she said. "You owe me three wishes."

He reached beyond out to gently tug the lamp out of her hand. "You've been reading too many fables, my lady. You're mistaken. I owe you nothing."

She frowned as he stole her lamp right out of her hand, his fingertips caressing hers as he pulled away. "Wrong, I know the fairy tale as well as you do, buster. I release you and you grant me three wishes."

The corners of his mouth quirked up in a half-smile at her fierce demand. "You don't have the power to truly release me, vixen." His expression sobered as he reached out a hand to cup her cheek. "Zander will soon learn of my escape and come for me. I must go. A gentleman does not put a lady in jeopardy."

Well, that just tore it, he was going to cut and run. Only she would dream up a reluctant genie. She pulled back, breaking contact from his hand stroking her face and looked away to hide the tears of frustration misting her eyes. "Go then, if you don't want me. I've got a hot date coming to pick me up in a few minutes anyway."

"Hot date?" Lucien asked, puzzled.

"In your lingo a beau, an escort. You know a man." She cringed inside as she told the bald-faced lie but couldn't take it back. Why she cared what a fantasy man thought of her she couldn't say. She swore she could hear him gnash his teeth in aggravation and when she turned to look at him she could see fury in his eyes. Was he really jealous? The possibility stunned her. And then he reached out to snag her, pulling her hard into his aroused body and she stopped thinking.

Lucien let out a growl. "Don't be daft, woman. How can you say I don't want you?"

Chemise picked up his masculine outrage loud and clear as he tested his throbbing erection against her hip. Damn but she wanted a taste of that. She let out a murmur of surrender, wrapping her arms around his neck. Shaking with need, she melted against him in a big puddle of lust, aching for him to possess her. And when his mouth slanted over hers with fierce demand she knew she'd found paradise.

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