by Jaci Burton
Married. Again.
This time, forever.
They spent a few moments talking with Amanda and the minister, the photographer took a few pictures, then they were off.
“I have dinner being delivered to our suite,” Lisa said.
Rick held her hand as they walked through the lobby toward the elevator. “You do?”
She nodded. “And champagne.”
“Great.”
“And I bought something special to change into.”
He arched a brow as they entered the elevator. “You already look pretty special. Beautiful, in fact.”
Her cheeks warmed. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Wife.”
Wife. They’d really gotten married. “We’re married.”
“Yeah. Kayla’s going to be pissed.”
The moved into their suite. “She’ll get over it,” Lisa said. “She’d want us to be happy.”
“Yeah, she would.” Rick pulled her into his arms. “Are you?”
She twined her fingers around his neck. “Am I what?”
“Happy. Are you sure this is what you wanted?”
“Yes. God, yes. I’m so sorry, Rick. About last night . . .”
He shook his head. “Don’t. I overwhelmed you and I know it. I pressured you. I just hope I didn’t push you into this.”
She smiled. “You didn’t. I’ve always wanted you. I guess I was just afraid that maybe Kayla was why we were together in the first place.”
“I loved you way before Kayla ever entered the picture. And even more after. We both just needed to grow up.”
“We both have.”
He let out a sigh. “I should have asked you to marry me again long before now. I don’t know what stopped me.”
“Probably the same thing that stopped me. Fear of shattering the perfect arrangement.”
“You’re right. We made the divorce too comfortable.”
“Our friendship was too easy.”
“We put romance, sex—us—on the back burner.”
She leaned into him, loving the feel of his body against hers. God, how she’d missed it, and how excited she was to realize she wasn’t going to have to let him go. “Never again. We come first now. Always.”
He untangled her arms from around his neck and led her out onto the balcony. As usual, the night was perfect. People walking below, music coming from somewhere, a soft breeze sailing upward, warm and filled with the fragrance of the island.
“I’m going to miss this place,” she said.
“We can stay longer.”
She turned to him. “I have to get back to work Monday.”
“Call in. Tell them you’re on your honeymoon. I’ll bet they give you a few extra days.”
Tempting. The old Lisa would come up with a hundred reasons why that was such a bad idea. The new Lisa already had a hundred reasons why she wanted to stay here. “I’ll call tomorrow.”
“So will I.”
“After that we’ll call Kayla together.”
“We’ll probably hear her squeal all the way from Europe without benefit of the telephone line.”
She laughed. “You’re right. She’s going to be so excited. So will Connie.”
“I have a lot to thank both of them for. They were instrumental in helping me with my plan to get you here.”
“Then I’m the one who’s thankful. To them, of course, but especially to you. If you hadn’t made this happen, we might never—”
“But we did. And that’s all that matters.” He swept her into his arms, kissing her in a way that left no doubt as to how much he loved her.
Passion ignited and Lisa felt the immediacy, the need to consummate their marriage. She’d made plans for that. A silken, floor-length nightgown, rose petals strewn across their bed, champagne chilling next to the bed. A whole romantic, seductive scene that she no longer cared about, because all she wanted was Rick inside her, right now, right here. She had this silly need to “cement the deal.” Immediately.
She tore at his suit jacket, pulling it off his shoulders. It fell to the floor. She kicked off her shoes while Rick toed his off. Their lips stayed glued together, their tongues doing a wild mating dance that left Lisa hot, feverish, and desperate with need. When he lifted her dress and slid his fingers between her legs, she cried out, not caring if anyone could hear them.
“Yes,” she said, biting down on his shoulder as he drove two fingers into her pussy. “More.”
“You’re wet,” he said, his voice tight. “You want me to fuck you out here?”
She loved when he went all harsh and all male on her. Her nipples tightened, her breasts swelling higher over the bodice of her dress. She leaned back and searched his face. “Yes. Fuck me here. Do it now.”
He dragged her to the balcony edge, planting her hands on the cement. “Bend over,” he commanded.
She did, and he lifted her dress, pulling her panties down to her ankles. She stepped out of them and spread her legs, waiting for his cock. Needing his cock. Instead, she felt his tongue probing between her ass cheeks, flicking out to lick at her pussy lips. She tossed her head back and moaned as he licked her, lapping at the wetness there, driving her crazy by teasing her with his tongue and fingers, taking her so close to the edge she mumbled incoherently, unable to form the words to tell him what she needed.
But he knew. He slid his fingertips up to her clit and moved them in circles while fucking her pussy with his tongue. She shattered right there, digging her palms into the rough cement, lifting her ass against his mouth and hand while her nerve endings exploded against him.
She was still shuddering when Rick rose and unzipped his pants, put on a condom, and plunged his cock inside her. Hard, demanding, he fucked her with long, measured strokes, wrapping one arm around her waist and planting his lips along the nape of her neck. He licked her, even bit her, and her body caught fire. She raised the front of her dress and massaged her clit, wanting to come again with him.
“Do you think someone’s watching us?” he asked. “Do you think maybe some guy is jacking off watching us fuck?”
“I don’t . . . I don’t know,” she said, trying to catch her breath, visualizing someone hidden in the darkness on one of the balconies, his cock in his hand, stroking it fast and hard while he watched Rick fuck her.
“Your pussy is so wet, babe. Does that excite you, the thought of people watching us?”
“Yes,” she said, whimpering as he surged into her, filling her, expanding inside her, and it was all she could take. “Rick. Rick, please.”
“Tell me what you want.”
She didn’t know. She just wanted more. Her throat was raw from panting, her breath gone, so she backed up against him, pushing her pussy onto his cock.
“Oh yeah. I know what you need.” He held her tighter, plunged deeper, and she strummed her clit with a fury, taking her right to the edge. Her pussy tightened, and with Rick’s final hard thrust she went over, taking him with her. They both shouted their pleasure into the night. It was wild, sensual, a little bit crazy, and absolutely the hottest thing she’d ever done. Rick pulled out and turned her around, kissing her until she was dizzy with pleasure all over again. She palmed his chest and pushed back. “I can’t breathe,” she said, laughing.
“Wife dies from pleasure on wedding night. Story at eleven,” he said, in mock news anchor horror.
She giggled. “I just might.”
He fell into one of the cushioned chaises, taking Lisa with him. She snuggled up against his chest and watched the stars above them.
“Yes, we definitely have to stay a few more days,” she murmured.
“I think you’re adjusting to this decadent lifestyle.”
“I could get used to it. We’ll need to redo the backyard.” She lifted her head. “Will you move into my house? Or do you want me to move into yours?”
“We can figure all that out later. Don’t worry about the details.”
“Okay. No ma
tter what, we definitely need a private back porch.”
He laughed. “I’ve created a monster. One who likes outdoor sex.”
“Hey, we live in Florida. Might as well take advantage of year-round nice temperatures.”
He tilted her chin back and kissed her. “I love you, Lisa.”
“I love you, too. Thank you for not giving up on me.”
“I never have. I never will.”
She was so lucky. A wonderful husband, an incredible daughter, and an amazing future. They were bound together now, tied with invisible bonds that had always been there. She’d just been too blind to see them.
Now she saw clearly.
“Dinner should be arriving soon,” she said.
“Good. You’re working me to death on this vacation. I’m starving.”
She grinned. “It’s a good thing the food is great here, then. I need you to keep up your strength.”
He stood and pulled her out of the chair. “There’s also a matter of that special outfit you said you bought for later?”
“Oh, yeah. The one I’m going to wear when we consummate our marriage.”
He snorted. “It’s going to be a long night.”
There was a knock at the door. Their dinner, no doubt. Lisa smiled and batted her lashes at Rick. “Better go eat your spinach. You’re going to need it.”
Jaci Burton is thrilled to be living her dream of writing passionate romance.
She lives in Oklahoma with her husband.
Visit her at www.jaciburton.com.
Don’t miss her exciting new novel, Riding on Instinct, coming in April 2009 from Heat. Turn to the back of the book for a sneak preview.
Undone
JASMINE HAYNES
To my husband, Ole
For always coming up with the great ideas when I think there are none left!
As always, thanks to Jenn Cummings, Terri Schaefer, Lucienne Diver, and
Wendy McCurdy. And to Shannon Hollis, for letting me try
on a real corset and giving me a few particulars.
One
“You’ve been off your stride since Richard left.” Lorie cut right to the heart of the matter. “It’s been a year. You need to move on, at least go out on a date.”
“I’m over Richard. But you know the last year has been a nightmare professionally.” Margo Faraday sipped after-dinner coffee, curling into the corner of Lorie’s leather sofa. As a mortgage broker, Margo’s business had taken a nosedive with last year’s subprime mortgage debacle. The San Francisco Bay Area was especially hard hit because of the high cost of houses. She was still in major recovery mode.
Lorie narrowed her eyes. “I know you, girlfriend, and it isn’t just business. You’ve been pensive since your birthday.”
Pensive? Yeah. Maybe. Her birthday had been a couple of weeks ago, before Thanksgiving. “Well, turning forty-five is not exactly making me feel tiptop,” Margo admitted.
Lorie was a couple of years younger. “You look gorgeous. Blond hair, green eyes, a hot bod men drool over.”
Wasn’t that exactly what best friends were for, to help you rebuild your self-esteem? “You’re so sweet.” Margo did try hard to keep herself in decent shape. “But I’d rather have red hair like yours.” And quite frankly, Lorie’s bra size, too, not that Margo would actually say that.
Lorie swiped at her short red curls. “The color doesn’t stay in long enough. I spend a fortune at my salon.”
Margo had heard the complaint often enough. Luckily her own blond was natural. But it wasn’t just the age thing getting to her. It was Richard . . . and it wasn’t. After eight years of living together, Richard had walked out. One humongous fight, and he was gone, just like that. Since her birthday, she’d felt that lonely year finally catching up to her.
“Come on,” Lorie pleaded with a pout. “Tell me what’s really bothering you.”
She and Lorie had known each other ten years, meeting at work right after Margo’s divorce. “I guess it’s getting older, not dating since Richard left, the business problems”—she shrugged—“everything.” And the fact that her two major relationships had failed spectacularly, first her ten-year marriage, then Richard. She’d been with him almost ten years, too. Why couldn’t she get past that ten-year mark? Margo’s mother still bemoaned the fact that her daughter couldn’t keep a man. In her mother’s eyes, she’d never quite measured up.
Lorie heard only the one thing. “It’s not like you’ve even been open to dating anyone. Carl’s got this great VP of Sales—”
Margo held up her hand. “Please don’t set me up with one of Carl’s friends.” Lorie had been dating Carl for two years and living with him for six months. He was great, but his standard for an ideal date was a man’s rung on the corporate ladder.
Right on cue, as if mentioning him conjured a call, Lorie’s cell phone rang with Carl’s special tone. Grabbing it off the magazines and papers on the coffee table, Lorie answered with that gooey smile she still managed to wear for him. “Hi, sweetie”—pause, a quick head shake—“let me check.” And she popped up from the sofa to head down the hall to the bedroom.
Lorie had a point about dating. The year since Richard left had seemed to rush by her so fast Margo couldn’t stop it. Topped off with turning forty-five, she badly needed a boost to her self-confidence, something to make her feel alive, attractive, and desirable. Maybe she couldn’t make a success of a relationship, but she did need a man, or at least some sort of a connection. Even if it was only for a night. Or a week. Or a month. Vibrators only went so far.
Margo shuffled through the magazines on the coffee table, looking for something to entertain herself rather than thinking about her love life, or lack thereof.
Instead of a magazine, she came across . . . what on earth was that, a personal ad? A plain sheet of paper, it had been printed off one of those personals Web sites. Good Lord, were Lorie and Carl looking on the Internet for extracurricular activities? The thought stole her breath, made her think of Richard . . . and what had really ended their relationship. The thing she’d never had the courage to reveal to Lorie. Instead she’d let her best friend think the break up had been about Richard’s new girlfriend, Katrina.
Margo almost put down the ad. It wasn’t her business. It was snooping. It was . . . she couldn’t help it, she had to read.
Amateur Photographer Looking for the Perfect Model. Ever thought about posing for erotic pictures? We can start out with you clothed, then various stages of undress until total nudity. Pose as erotically as you’re comfortable with, perhaps even touch yourself, use a toy or two. Let your inhibitions go, I want you completely undone for the camera. The disposition of the pictures is up to you; if you don’t want me to keep any, I won’t. I’m not looking for a professional model; I want a real woman. I know you’re out there.
The last line seemed to call to her. She felt a hitch in her breath, a sweep of heat through her body as she read. And imagined. She was a real woman, she was out there. And she needed something.
But what was Lorie doing with the ad? Maybe Carl wanted naughty pictures of Lorie. That was harmless enough. Lorie couldn’t intend doing it on her own or she wouldn’t have left it on the coffee table for Carl to find.
But why hadn’t she told Margo about it?
For the same reason Margo hadn’t told Lorie the real reason Richard left. There were just some things secret to any significant relationship.
She barely managed to get the paper back on the table before Lorie returned, breezing into the living room with that gooey smile on her face. For a moment, Margo felt a pang of envy.
“You’d never know the man has an MBA. He can’t even remember if he returned the rented tux from that benefit we went to last week.” Whether he was forgetful or not, Lorie was crazy about him, and Margo suspected she loved the quick little calls for this, that, or the other that made her feel needed.
“What’s this?” Margo hadn’t intended saying a word about the ad, but it
was as if her mouth opened and the words fell out all on their own.
Lorie grabbed the paper, flopped back down on the sofa, and put her slippered feet on the edge of the chrome-and-glass coffee table. Then she laughed. “Oh God, that’s my brother’s friend. They went to college together.”
“Your brother’s friend wants to take erotic pictures of you?” With her brother being ten years younger than Lorie, it meant this guy was in his early thirties.
Lorie huffed out another laugh. “No, silly. He just put the ad out for a model. And Zach”—Lorie’s brother—“thought I might know someone.” She made a horrible face. “Yeah, like one of my friends would do it.”
Yet Margo’s whole body hummed with the thought of having a young man take nude photos of her. Erotic photos. She’d never admit she had a bit of an exhibitionist streak lurking within, but the idea heated her on the inside. Yes, one of Lorie’s friends would think about doing it. Not that she’d act on it.
Margo had to know more. “An ‘erotic’ model? What is he, some sort of pervert?”
“Actually, Dirk’s the sweetest guy. But he’s gotten into the photography thing, and there’s some contest coming up in the new year that he wants to practice for.”
“Practice?”
“You know, posing the model, getting the lighting right, stuff like that, technical photography things.”
Right. “Is this some sort of porn contest?”
Again Lorie laughed. “No. It’s artistic. Showing the female form in all its glory”—she waved her hands, the paper flapping—“not that he only does nudes.” Lorie tipped her head. “In fact, I’m not sure he’s done nudes before. Which is probably why he needs practice.” She punctuated with a sly smile.
