Free The Suns of Liberty (Book 2): Revolution by Michael Ivan Lowell Page A

but he began to chuckle. And then they laughed at each
other. The two were bent over, roaring deliriously. Arbor peered up at Bob, who
was sweating and crying. He could barely make the sound:
    “Jesus!”
     
     
    CHAPTER
12
     
     
    M iles
away from the bank scene with Arbor, the ivy-covered brick of Covington South
Boston sat nestled into a quiet, wooded lot. A small and exclusive private high
school. Inside, children of Southie'sfewelite families and
those desperate enough to shell out the dough sat crowded into high-school
classrooms, working quietly.
    Fiona Fletcher struggled silently
at her desk, writing the paper assignment. As was standard, several boys
glanced at her, obviously hoping to catch her eye in case she looked their way.
She never did.
    Fiona never attended any social
functions or spoke much with her classmates after school. This could have made
her a pariah among her status-conscious peers, but instead it simply served to
fuel her legend. She was easily the most beautiful girl among an already stunningly
attractive teenage set. In the hallowed halls of Covington South, she was a
mysterious, ghostly goddess who disappeared every day as soon as classes let
out. A black SUV was there like clockwork, fifteen minutes before school ended,
waiting for her. Even on days school ended early.
    Fiona grimaced at her notebook.
She had set up a story about a beautiful princess finally able to share
forbidden love with her gallant knight. War had kept them apart.
    It wasn't Shakespeare. In fact, it
was pretty clichéd. Maybe that's why her mind wandered...
     
    A blood-red sky. Thick, gray smoke billows in
the distance.
    Fiona—an older, more mature
Fiona—stands upon a deep-green hill. She's wearing a corset and dress from another
time. She is stunning. Glorious feminine beauty that is at once the svelteness
of youth and the womanly confidence of age.
    A knight on horseback gallops
up to her. The horse is majestic white and snarling its power into the crisp
air. On the stallion’s back is the Revolution. He dismounts his steed with
grace and confidence.
    “Hello, Fiona.”
    “Hello, my darling,” she says
with pent-up longing.
    He runs to her, embraces her in
his powerful arms.
    “I have won this war. For you.”
    Suddenly her rather more
womanly body is speckled with golden body glitter. They lean into a deep bow,
and with one hand Revolution rips off his helmet and throws it away. He is the
poster child for tall, dark, and romantic.
     
    This broke the spell for just a second. She
realized that the face in her vision had adorned that obnoxious romance novel
she had spied in the bookstore the other day. The only good thing about it
having been the male model on the cover.
    Better try a different tack...
     
    Though she cannot see his face...his jawline is
strong, his hair dark and tousled. Fiona throws her head back as he nuzzles
into her breasts and kisses them. He caresses her body, takes in the scent of
her, his breath hot on her skin. Moves his lips up to her neck with
spine-weakening precision. She feels her knees give a bit. His tongue leaves
hot trails. He crosses the threshold to her lips.
    “I have fought a thousand
battles just to kiss these lips,” he purrs. “Finally we can be together.”
    “I love you,” is all she can
manage.
    Of course he knows this. All
women love him. The point is, he loves her too.
    He kisses her. His tongue
plunges deep and torrid; he holds her tight to his own muscular body as she
swoons completely. Again and again they kiss. He begins to trail his hot, wet
mouth down her neck, her chest, back to her breasts...
    She hears soft, romantic music
soar in the background. What could be more perfect, as if the heavens had
opened just for them.
    Suddenly they’re dancing. Slow
and gentle.
    And then Revolution spins her
away, and Fiona twirls with the skill and precision of a professional.
Revolution marvels at her grace. She dips low and stretches like a magnificent
swan,