by Sandra Hill
He bucked against her, at just the right spot. Then he caught her cry in his mouth, knowing they needed to maintain at least a modicum of silence, lest they wake up the two girls. Dragging his mouth from hers, he panted for breath.
She moaned and tried to pull his head back for more kisses.
“Wait,” he urged.
“No,” she gasped out. “I. Can’t. Wait.”
“Oh, baby!” Her words caused his cock to about double in size, if that was possible. But he needed to slow this sex train down for maximum enjoyment, for both of them. Rearing back, he sat on his knees, then pulled her up to straddle him with her knees on either side of his thighs, her crotch smack dab against his crotch.
He saw fireworks behind his closed lids before he opened his eyes and urged her, “Now show me what you like.”
She undulated against him with sweet swaying hips. She moved her silk-covered breasts across his chest hairs and nipples. She tunneled her fingers in his hair and kissed him with gentle coaxing laps of her tongue. “That’s what I like,” she told him saucily. “Now show me what you like.”
He didn’t need a second invitation. He lowered his boxers carefully over his huge erection, then lifted her tank top over her head and ripped the tap pants down the center, showing him in damp curly splendor what a true redhead she was.
Grace gasped. “You tore Lena’s sleep outfit.”
“I’ll give her a gift certificate to Victoria’s Secret,” he replied in a sex-gravelly voice as he feasted his eyes on the woman he loved. And, yeah, no question about it. He still loved Grace, dumb twit that he was. The question was—no, he wasn’t going to go there. Not now. Not yet.
“Touch me,” he urged, and showed her exactly the grasp and movement he liked, almost immediately followed by, “Take me inside.”
And she did. Oh, man, did she ever!
Impaled to the hilt, he moved her thighs so she was spread wider. And he began to strum her right where she was joined to him. Without warning, except for a low keening, she began to convulse around him.
Too soon.
He took her by the waist and forced her to remain still.
“Wha-what?”
“Slow down, honey.”
“I want...” She tried to move against him.
He wouldn’t let her.
Once he had her spasms halted, temporarily, and her eyes were hazy with arousal, he leaned down and took one of her little nipples into his mouth, sucking deeply.
Immediately, she began to spasm around him, again.
He forced her to remain still.
The spasms got softer, then stopped. She stared at him as if in a daze—a daze of wanting. Just the way he wanted her.
“Sweetie?”
At first she didn’t register that he was talking to her.
“Sweetie?”
She began to tremble. All over. “I need—”
“Shhhh.” He put a fingertip to her mouth. Then he guided both of her hands to her breasts and said, “Touch yourself. The way you do when I’m not there. The way you fantasize.”
At any other time she probably would have rebelled, if only faintly, like she had that night in the shower, but she was too far gone. She lifted both breasts, then massaged the centers with her palms.
“Look at me.”
Holding his gaze, she used just her fingertips to circle the pearly tips, over and over and over, biting her bottom lip to keep from crying out. When her inner muscles started to milk him once again, he forced her back so that her knees still straddled him and his cock was still inside, but her shoulders were on the mattress. He could see that she was almost in physical pain with wanting.
“Will you do whatever I want you to, Grace?”
She blinked with surprise. “I don’t kn—”
“Do you trust me, Grace?” A loaded question in light of everything that had happened the last few days.
She nodded hesitantly, then more resolutely.
“Good girl.” He pulled out with painful slowness, then said, “Over on all fours, sweetheart.”
Without reservation, she scrambled to do as he asked. He pressed her face to the mattress and raised her butt even higher by spreading her thighs with his knees. Only then did he enter her again and begin the long strokes that would carry him home.
Way too soon, with neck arched back, he thrust hard into her. Her orgasm came with his in long, almost violent waves ’til she shattered with a harsh whimper, digging her nails into the sheets, and he joined her with a guttural grunt of satisfaction.
A while later, he lay over her, caressing her arms and shoulders and hair as she cried—happy tears, she told him—and shuddered into a sated sleep.
The sex had been phenomenal, better than he’d ever had, and Grace would share his wonder, guaranteed, if she was honest. But, frankly, he had other problems. He was concerned about how she would berate him for the itty-bitty misstep in their sex play.
He’d forgotten to use a condom.
Their playground was not for kids...
“Hey, Gracie, wanna play?”
Grace emerged from the most delicious sleep, her body aching in some special, and not so special, places. Play? Her eyes shot open.
Angel was leaning over her, tickling her breasts with the tassel ties from the living-room drapes. She recognized them because she’d helped Tante Lulu put them on last week.
“Play? What kind of play?” she inquired as she stretched the kinks from her body, which reminded her of something...kinky. As memory returned, she sat up and smacked him on the chest, several times.
“Hey!” He wrestled her back down, linking his hands with hers above her head. “What was that for?”
“You know exactly what, you...you pervert. What do you think I am? Some kind of a dog?”
“Oh, that. Honey, doggie sex isn’t perverted.” He grinned at her, unrepentantly. “I thought you’d like it. You did like it.”
“I did not.”
“Coulda fooled me. You were going ‘Oooh, oooh, oooh’ in that squeaky little orgasm voice of yours.”
“That’s because you tricked me.”
“How so?”
“By getting me so aroused I couldn’t think straight.”
“And you’re complaining about that?”
“I don’t like being—” She searched for the right words.
“Out of control?”
“Exactly.”
“Sweetie! That’s the point of good sex.”
“Oh, yeah? How ’bout I’m the one who gets you out of control this time?”
“I thought you’d never ask.” Releasing her hands, he rolled over onto his back and handed her the tassel ties. Then he flashed her an I-dare-you grin.
It wasn’t long before Angel changed his tune. With his wrists tied to the headboard, tightly, she’d examined every inch of his body, toes to the tops of ears with kisses, and licks of her tongue and nips of her teeth, commenting at each step on what she saw and was about to do, in explicit detail.
“Oh, I do like your belly button, Angel. I really do.”
“Did you like what I did to your nipples? You did? Harder? Okay.”
“Can I touch you here? Oooh, ticklish, are you?”
“I can’t tell you what it does to me when you make that rough sound.”
“Did I ever tell you how I like to play bouncy balls?”
“Can I taste you here? And here? And, oh, my goodness, yes, here.”
“Are you ready to say please?”
“Please.”
“Please what?”
“Pretty damn please, will you put me out of my misery?”
“Okay.” Truth to tell, she was as worked up by then as he was. She was about to climb on for a ride when he said, “Wait,” and motioned with his head toward a foil-wrapped item on the bedside table. Something niggled at the back of her mind as she slowly, very slowly, suited him up, but then she had no time to think as she undid his ties and he showed her the best wa
y to play rodeo.
As she drifted off to sleep a short time later, in Angel’s arms, she murmured, “What should I do about Andrea?” He kissed the top of her head. “Just be yourself. She’ll come around.”
“She’s nice, isn’t she?”
“Yep. Like her mother.”
“You’re just saying that because I let you have your way with me.”
“Ya think?”
“I’m worried about Tante Lulu and the Duval kids.”
“I’m not.”
She raised her head to look at him.
“The LeDeuxs have a way of always landing on their feet. Cajuns stick together. Besides, they have St. Jude on their side.”
“You’re beginning to sound a little Cajun yourself.”
“Mais oui, chère.” He traced her lips gently with a forefinger, then smiled at her. “A month from now, things will be back to normal, or as normal as they can be on the bayou.”
“I suppose you’re right.”
He tucked her face into the crook of his neck and arranged her one leg over his thighs. “Take a little nap, Grace, and then...”
She waited, sensing that he was going to zap her with something.
And he did.
“And then?” she prodded.
“I have another game I’d like to play with you.”
They wanted them to play house, literally...
Angel was having breakfast out on the deck the next morning, having left Grace in the bedroom, alone, before dawn in order to protect her reputation with the girls. Himself, he couldn’t have cared less. In fact, he’d like to shout to the world what a great night he’d had.
Instead, he’d made Lena and Andrea his special Spanish omelette with toasted Italian bread and broiled cheese tomatoes. They were now on second helpings.
“Shouldn’t we wake Grace?” Lena asked.
“Let her rest. Yesterday was very stressful for her.”
Andrea made a grunting sound of disparagement. “Yeah, I guess I’ve ruffled her perfect life by showing up like this.”
“Cut it out, Andrea. Grace is a good woman, and she loves you. I know she does. Just give her a chance.”
“If you only knew how bad it’s been living with my stepfather, you wouldn’t—”
“Hey, my life hasn’t been a bed of roses, either,” Lena interjected. “And, by the way, Grace told me one time about how mean her parents were. Betcha they made her life hell when they found how she was preggers.”
“Lena’s right,” Angel said, taking one of Andrea’s hands in his, to soften his criticism. “You have a right to your own feelings, no matter what they are, but I wish you’d reserve judgment until you get the whole story.”
“Why don’t you tell me?” she said, yanking her hand away.
“I don’t know myself.”
The gloating look of satisfaction on her face pricked at him, but he cautioned himself that she was just a kid. He needed to be tolerant. For now, anyhow. “I may not know the whole story, kiddo, but I know Grace. You should trust her.”
Just then his cell phone rang, sparing him further discourse on a subject that was uncomfortable for him. He was still mad at Grace for keeping all her secrets from him.
“Sabato here.”
“Hey, Angel! Luc LeDeux.”
“What’s up?”
“I just came from Judge Wilkins’s chambers. He’s waiting for me to return. I have a proposition for you...and Grace.”
“Uh-oh.”
“The judge might be amenable to releasing the kids today provided there’s suitable adult guardianship until the official hearing on Wednesday.”
“And Lena won’t do?”
“Nope. Not for now, anyhow, considering the role she played in hiding the kids from CPS. Her suitability has to be determined by the courts and protective services.”
“So what do you suggest?”
“Could you and Grace offer temporary guardianship for the three kids?”
“I was supposed to be leaving town today.”
“So I heard. I realize I’m asking a big favor, but can your departure be delayed?”
He glanced over at a clearly worried Lena, who had tears in her eyes. Her clenched hands were held against her heart in a prayer-like attitude. “I suppose so.”
“There’s something else.”
“Uh-oh,” he said again.
“Could you two pretend to be, like, engaged?”
“Oh, boy!”
“It would only be temporary.”
“Oh, boy!”
“It’s just that the judge would be more likely to grant guardianship if you presented yourselves as a couple.”
“I’ll see what I can do. Grace is still asleep.”
“There’s a Walmart on the way. Maybe you could stop and buy a cheap ring.”
He laughed. Somehow he couldn’t picture it happening without dragging Grace bodily to the jewelry counter. And Walmart? That would be the day!
“If there’s a problem, call me back. Otherwise, meet me in two hours.” He gave him the address and room number for the judge’s chambers.
“How about Tante Lulu?”
Luc laughed. “The district attorney is insisting on keeping her until Monday, while the cops on guard duty at the jail are begging for her release. Needless to say she’s causing all kinds of problems. Wants to teach the cook how to make gumbo the right way. Has been giving St. Jude statues to the inmates. Wants the right to play Cajun music in the corridors. Won’t take a shower ’til they let her disinfect the tiles. Wants to know who’s in charge of toilet cleaning. That’s for a start.”
Angel was laughing by the time he hung up. Then he noticed Lena and Andrea staring at him as if he’d lost his mind.
“Well, Lena, looks like Grace and I are going to be your mommy and daddy.” Not the smartest thing for him to say, he soon found out.
Andrea let out a sob of distress and ran into the house, slamming Ella’s bedroom door behind her.
He sighed deeply. Time to go propose to Grace.
He couldn’t wait.
Chapter 19
Sometimes the wheels of justice get a push...
Grace sat in the small auxiliary courtroom, but did she focus her attention on the judge, whose voice droned on and on and on about family responsibility and children’s needs; or on the two scowling CPS personnel, Merrill Olsen and Jancie Pitot; or Luc; or even Angel?
Nope.
Her gaze kept going down to the ring on the third finger of her left hand. A two-carat Diamonique ring from Walmart, where Angel had dragged her against her will. It was the most beautiful, garish piece of jewelry she’d ever seen.
She’d been worried that Angel would consider it a real engagement, that he would extrapolate their amazing lovemaking into a commitment of sorts. But he’d been the one to put her in her place, in the shopping mall parking lot. “Chill out, Grace, and stop thinking only of yourself. This is a pretense, for the good of the Duval kids.”
Still, she got a thrill just looking at the ring...and thinking of what it might have symbolized, in different circumstances. And she had to admit, the lovemaking had been extraordinary. Beyond that, she didn’t want to think.
Looking up, she saw Angel watching her. He winked.
Good heavens! How could a mere wink turn her on, after everything she’d done with this man last night? She must have blushed, because a smile tugged at Angel’s lips, which were swollen from her kisses and nips of her teeth. She imagined her mouth was in the same condition.
“I beg your pardon,” the judge said. “I hate to interrupt.”
Both their heads shot to the right.
“If you two lovebirds don’t mind, we’re conducting a serious hearing.”
“Sorry,” they said, as one.
Even so, Angel reached over, linked her fingers with his, raised the fist to his mouth, and kissed the ring, maintaining eye contact the whole time.
Luc surreptitiously flashed a thumbs-up
at them, thinking this was a deliberate act in line with his advice to act like a soon-to-be married couple.
Grace’s heart ached then, realizing that it must have been just a planned gesture on Angel’s part.
She gave herself a mental shake. Stop it, Grace! You and Angel are not going to happen. He’ll be leaving soon. Andrea is here, needing you. Tante Lulu and the Duval family need you, too. You cannot handle any distractions if you want to straighten out the chaos that has become your life. Stop dreaming!
“Where would these children be living if I release them into your temporary care?” the judge asked.
“In the home that was built for them on Live Oak Lane,” Luc answered.
“Where do you two live?” the judge asked her and Angel.
“In the new Duval house,” Grace replied.
“For the time being,” Angel added. “I own a home in New Jersey, which I plan to sell, and Grace has a cottage on Bayou Black, which we’re going to enlarge and remodel once I purchase an adjoining lot. I can show you the plans, if you’d like.”
Whaaaat? Grace stared at him with shock. Was he serious? Or just that good an actor?
“When’s the wedding?” the judge inquired.
“Next year,” Grace said.
“Next month,” Angel said.
She refused to look at him.
“Grace means that she’d like to wait ’til next year and have a big wedding with all the works, but we just can’t wait that long. Her old clock is ticking, if you know what I mean. Grace is almost thirty-five years old. Oops. I forgot you’re sensitive about your age, hon.”
“That’s okay, hon.” Grace would have gleefully smacked him upside the head if it wouldn’t jeopardize their case. Instead, she squeezed the fingers of the hand that still held hers, real hard. She hoped the ring left a mark.
“You can’t put those kids in their hands,” Mr. Tums from CPS spat out. Saliva pooled in the corners of his chalky lips. “Mr. Sabato and Ms. O’Brien are practically in bed with that dangerous Louise Rivard, who I might note is in jail right now for several felonies, including illegal gun possession, resisting arrest, and assaulting a police officer.”
