Christmas Paradise

by Gale Storm

  She lifted her head and kissed him hard on the lips. “Don't think about it now. It won't be my last scar, believe me."

  Something fierce and possessive passed through his eyes like summer lightning. His arms circled her waist and pulled her on top of him.

  “If you were mine, my sweet imp, it would be. I'd never let anyone or anything hurt you again."

  Tarry smiled as she brought her hands up to cup his face. Why had it taken her so long to find Tyrone, she wondered? He was everything she had ever dreamed a man should be. Warm, compassionate, tender, yet strong with a foresight that was profound. Their lips fused in a passion that burned them both. Their breathing became tortured and harsh. His hand found her center, she could only moan in anticipation of their union.

  “So tight.” His tongue circled her ear, as her fingers found the snap of his slacks. She arched against his fingers, showing him just how ready she was for him. She pushed his slacks down his legs, her fingers tingling from the feel of his muscled calves.

  “Make love to me, Tyrone.” The words were a gasp of air as he quickly pulled the dress from her body, managing to undress himself with the same movement. Tarralee reached for him. The passion they shared had to be satisfied. It would have been akin to trying to turn the ocean at full tide if they had tried to stop it.

  He rose on his elbows and pressed his head between her breasts, kissing the firm mounds on either side. Slowly, he kissed the smooth white skin of her rib cage and then her stomach.

  “Oh, Tarralee,” he gasped as his hands molded her hips, lifting her slightly, his gaze intense. “Sweetheart, you're perfect, beautiful."

  Her cheeks matched the reddened hue of her nipples as she heard the words. Never had she expected to hear such words spoken about herself.

  “I want to cherish every inch of you, love.” His words inflamed her more. Her hands became bold as they began an exploration of their own. Brushing across his bare buttocks, down his calves. He groaned and caught her hand, pressing it hard against him.

  “You're driving me mad, woman. I've waited a lifetime for you and I want to savor you, but if you keep that up...” He grinned into her eyes, then his smile faded as her lips parted and her lashes lowered. “God, Tarry, you make me want you so badly."

  “I want you, too, Tyrone. Don't make me wait,” she whispered as her hands wrapped around his neck and she kissed him deeply. Pleasure seemed to roll over them as her body moved under his, inviting him to take her completely. His hand moved between her thighs as he found the dainty cleft.

  “Tarralee?” Incredible pleasure kept her from answering as he touched her. She felt her body pulsating in spirals of sensation. She gave herself up to it, no longer trying to analyze the feelings as they came too swiftly. Images, teasing touches, then hard strokes that made her groan. She wanted to see it all, have him see it as well, as it seemed there was no stopping the rush of sensations as he nipped her earlobe, made small bites at her neck, sucked her nipples, kissed her lips. It all felt wonderful as she followed his lead, finding pleasure wasn't some transient reality, but that it could go on and on.

  “Tarry, my beautiful Tarralee."

  She felt a jolt of erotic electricity as he positioned himself above her. Their breathing quickened as a new tension ignited within her.

  “Tyrone,” she cried, thrusting her swollen breasts against him as her hands gripped his forearms, “Tyrone!"

  His mouth covered hers as he pushed against her, his body hard as he drove into her soft warmth. Tarry gasped as their need scorched through her. For one brief instant her eyes widened, staring into his glazed blue gaze. Then with a frenzied movement she was swept into the urgent fire of passion. How quickly she reached the boiling point, her desire boiling over, drenching them both in the wonder of absolute satisfaction. But Tyrone wasn't ready to let her rest as he repositioned her on top of him, pushing her up, taking her nipples and first squeezing them, then lifting her firm young breasts from underneath while he thrust deeply inside her again, making her gasp and squeal in surprise. She opened her eyes, seeing him fill her as she leaned toward him placing her hands onto his bare chest. In this position she quickly learned he was allowing her to control the tension as she tightened her legs then relaxed.

  “God, Tarry ... keep that up, honey, and I'm—” He sucked in his breath as his hips rose, and she felt the final pulses of their two bodies as they both took and gave love to each other with the ultimate pleasure. She collapsed on his chest as he hugged her, kissing the top of her head, his passion spent.

  Their breathing slowed at last, and she felt Tyrone's arms tighten as he rose and looked into her face. He touched her cheeks with gentle fingers. She saw the pulse in the side of his neck and the dampness of his brow. She took a deep breath, fighting a wave of shyness as his dark eyes probed hers.

  “You wouldn't care to tell me why you are a thirty-year-old virgin? It never crossed my mind that you would be."

  She smiled uncaring. “Does it bother you so much?” She was tracing a dozen small wrinkles beside his right eye she had just noticed.

  He caught her hand as he sat up and stared at her. “Damn right it bothers me. Why didn't you tell me, Tarry?"

  “It wasn't important, or appropriate.” She gazed at him in troubled uncertainty. She had never expected this reaction from him.

  “Wasn't important?” His shoulders shook, his eyes were slits as he stared at her gentle face. “Don't tell me you've never had a boyfriend either?"

  She shook her head in puzzlement. What was wrong with him? He knew her life story. She had been too busy; there had never been time to think about a boyfriend, much less about making love with a man. Her life to this point had been spent taking care of others, from boys to men or animals.

  “How did I get into this mess?” he mumbled, his eyes taking in the sweet innocence of her nude body “Jesus!"

  He stood and raked his hand through his hair as he grabbed his shirt and jerked it on. Without glancing back at her, he disappeared through a door.

  Tarry felt like crying. Her eyes stung with the need to do just that, but she wasn't about to disgrace herself with tears while she was still in sight of him. His reaction hurt her deeply, and she had no understanding of it. Quickly, she pulled her dress back on, tugging the lacing cord tight across her bust. When she had cleaned up and dressed again, she found the telephone and put a call in for a taxi. As she realized she had no idea where she was, she hesitated. A hand reached around her and disconnected the line. Slowly, she replaced the receiver, aware of the heat of his chest behind her back.

  “Where do you think you're going?” The question was quietly asked, but she shivered as she sensed a coldness in his voice that hadn't been there before.

  “Home,” she answered honestly.

  His hands lightly touched her shoulders. She turned and faced him, her chin raised. He was dressed again, a navy blue shirt making his features darker than before.

  “You don't have to feel responsible for what happened between us, Tyrone. I was more to blame than you. I can take care of myself. I have for years now, you know.” She thought to relieve him of any responsibility for their union.

  “Would you shut up, Tarry? You've been a damn casualty all your life, and if you think for a moment that I'm likely to continue the trend you're out of your mind.” He ran his hand through his hair as he stared at her in distraction. “And now you're saying that if you were to have a child, my child, our child, I should turn my back and forget it."

  For a second a smile played with her lips, but then she looked back into his furious eyes. She'd only meant to relieve him of guilt, never thinking about the life they might have created together.

  “I just wanted you to know I can take care of myself, Tyrone."

  “Of course, you can, all five feet, one hundred pounds of you. But I told you sometime back that it was time someone else was concerned about you now. You can't live forever in a vacuum."

  “I didn't realiz
e I had been, especially the past few weeks."

  A frown creased his forehead. “You're so used to coming last and letting the world ride on your shoulders that you expect me to continue the imposition.” His mouth twisted. “Your masochistic tendencies amaze me. I know, as well as you do, that it may be too late to prevent you from being pregnant; but I'll keep my hands off from now on, or at least until—"

  A fierce pain shook her. “That's not necessary. I am an adult thirty years old."

  His voice was rough, “Will you listen to me? I—” The doorbell rang. With a curse, he frowned at the door.

  “The food,” she supplied into the silence.

  “Food?” He questioned, staring into her dark eyes. “Food.” He strode to the door and wrenched it open, taking the boxes from the delivery boy's hands, thrusting a bill toward the bewildered man before kicking the door closed. He walked to the breakfast bar, dropping the Chinese boxes onto the counter, then facing her. She folded her arms across her chest to still their trembling as she waited on him to speak. When he didn't, she did.

  “I suppose you think I should be grateful for your attitude, but I'm not. I never asked for your sacrifice, Tyrone, and I never expected it. I wanted to make love with you, but I don't need anything else from you. I told you I wasn't a child, and now I've proved I'm an adult after all. If you're angry because I used you to experience lovemaking you should be; but not because I might have forgotten to take care of the consequences of my actions. I've raised five brothers, after all, and birth control was their favorite subject. I made sure they excelled in it before I set them loose on an unsuspecting world."

  The surprise in his eyes almost made her laugh. She had shocked him. She stepped toward the door, “Now that we understand each other I'd like to—"

  He grabbed her shoulders and she jerked her eyes up to glare at him.

  “We don't understand each other at all, and you're not going anywhere until we do. Do you have any idea what a temptation you are, woman?” He shook his head. “I've no desire to be your platonic friend, either, Tarry; but that is the way it must be for now. It isn't fair to you to be anything else."

  She didn't hide her puzzlement as she stared at him.

  “Fairness has nothing to do with this.” She stood on tiptoe, pressing her lips against his. He reacted as if she had burned him. His hands dropped to his sides, and his head jerked up and backwards.

  “For Pete's sake, Tarry!” His voice was hoarse. “Are you tempting me to rape you? I just want what is best for you, and I know I'm not it."

  “Why not?” She tilted her head at him. “I need to understand."

  He raked his hand through his beard. “You need to experience the world—school, college, the social fun of boyfriends, dances, football games, lectures, travel. You deserve the chance to sample these things, Tarry—on your own. Without me...” He shook his head, it seemed in sorrow. “Tarry, I can't give you those experiences. I'm too damn selfish and I know it. I would force you to remain with me, turn you into my shadow if you remained. You need freedom and independence, some fun, for God's sake, not a jealous workaholic like me."

  She stared at him uncomprehendingly. What was he talking about? She wasn't a child to be offered amusements. He pitied her for her solitary lifestyle, and a burning resentment filled her mixed with hurt. He thought of her as a child. Oh, lust was mixed up in it; but he could only see the tiny body, not understanding that contained within it was a mature woman with a woman's needs and desires.

  “I'm sorry, Tyrone, but I won't buy it. I'm not a charity case to be put off into a social whirl. I may seem inexperienced to you, but in other ways I can match you experience for experience."

  “I know,” he replied gruffly. “You're probably better informed than most college graduates. But that's not all there is to life."

  “I haven't lived in a convent, either, you know.” She threw the words at him, anger finally getting the best of her.

  Tyrone had experienced her anger before, and as he realized he had hurt her again, he groaned. He had never meant to hurt her. It was all he could do not to drag her into his embrace and kiss the pain from her eyes and make love to her again.

  “If it will make you feel any better, Tyrone Shields, I was as surprised by my passion as you were.” Her voice was steady now.

  He took a deep breath and laughingly shook his head.

  “Tarralee Roessel, do you know you have never done or said one thing I expected of you."

  She narrowed her eyes at him, “Is that so. Well, since you seem intrigued by my lack of conformity, I'm starving and that food smells delicious."

  His eyes slowly lost their brooding, haunted look at her brusque tone; and the tension seemed to flow out of him.

  “So am I,” he supplied gracefully. “I'll pour us some wine."

  * * * * *

  That evening started their dating. Tarry realized that to say it was an exciting experience would have been to grossly understate the case. Tyrone had a restless energy that led her through some of the most expensive restaurants, finest homes and most elegant clubs the West Coast had to offer. Golf, bowling and Disneyland were the side attractions. He had been born into the exclusive world of the highly privileged as the son of an American ambassador to the Middle East, and he took it for granted. Tarry was amazed at what she saw and experienced. She was puzzled as she came to sense that all that he showed her was totally unimportant to him. Sharing moments of surprise and wonder with her seemed his only motivation.

  He was flatteringly attentive at work, although he made no further efforts to seduce her or make love, even when she flirted outrageously with him on their dates. His obvious coolness bothered her; but she often caught his hot, desire-filled gaze on her, and she knew he was still threshing out his feelings for her. Tyrone made her laugh with his dry wit and his teasing puns. She found that she was flattered by his thoughtfulness when he lost close to a hundred dollars as he tried to sink a dime in a jar at a carnival to get her a stuffed panda. They rode all of the rides, and their laughter echoed around them as he loaded the fat bear into the backseat of his sports car.

  One Thursday after work he was leading her toward his car when Marion called him back. Tarry waited patiently for fifteen minutes; then, growing curious, she went back inside to find out what the delay was. She first went through the empty studio, then back to the inner offices. As she neared his door, she heard voices. Curious, she went around the corner in time to see Tyrone pull an unknown woman into his arms. She stopped dead. She didn't want to see what the woman did, but she couldn't help it.

  A shiver ran up Tarry's spine as they embraced, and Tyrone kissed the woman. Her throat contracted as she stepped back, but not before she heard the woman's voice.

  “Darling, I can't stand being away from you. Six months, six weeks, what does it matter? It's all like a hundred years to me."

  “It can't be helped, Senna, until I've finished this wolf project. That's the way it must be.” There was a chill in his voice that Tarry had only heard him use when he was angry. “You knew that I had to use every ounce of persuasive talent I've gleaned from this profession to make a success of this project, and how important it is for me. Hell, a screenplay like this one doesn't come along once in ten years."

  “But you didn't tell me she was a woman. I don't like it, Tyrone."

  Tarry did not remain to hear more. She turned and headed toward the exit door.

  Outside, she walked steadily toward the gate where the inevitable taxis waited to pick up the extras and crews. She hailed one and climbed inside, requesting that the driver take her to UCLA and John Huxley, her youngest brother. What was she to do? It was true that Tyrone had not promised her anything during their short affair. He had even been quite clear at first concerning his feelings in getting involved with her. When she had insisted she was an adult and could manage anything, he had backed down. Since, he hadn't mentioned it again.

  Still, he managed to keep most of
his thoughts private, leaving her feeling left out of the really important parts of his life. In many ways he stayed distant; he seemed easily to answer her questions while he hid parts of himself. Tyrone was a man, after all, and a light dalliance was probably routine for him. So why should she feel hurt? Despite his calm logic she was hurt, angry, and confused. Since knowing him, it seemed she had been hurt, angry, and confused more than she had been happy.

  “Damn him,” she mumbled in the backseat of the cab as the driver worked his way through the evening traffic.

  “Miss?” The driver's eyes met hers in the rearview mirror. She managed a tremulous smile and shook her head as she looked back at her hands. “Lost the job, huh?” the driver guessed, shrugging his shoulders. “I know how grueling these auditions are. I tried for five years to break in and finally gave up. They're always looking for someone who's shorter, taller, fatter or thinner than you are. Don't take it too hard. There are better professions than show business.” He smiled encouragingly. “You'll make it, though. You're cute as a button. Just don't give up, and only do what you know is right. And never start driving a taxi."

  Tarry smiled her appreciation for the man's encouragement and sat silent the rest of the way to UCLA as she mapped out a plan for herself. First things first. She would get John's car and go to the ranch and pick up her belongings, leave a note for Tyrone, then drive through the night to the cabin. There had been no storms this past week, so the roads would be clear; and she should have no problems making the trip with chains.

  Having made up her mind on a course of action, she wondered about it and tried to view it dispassionately. Did she really have a reason to act so immaturely? Was she crazy to consider staying? It would be easy to run home and hide in the mountains again. But should she thrust everything that had happened to her over the past weeks into the back of her mind and pretend it hadn't happened? That course of action had worked for her when her parents died, but then ... then she had been a teenager, and it had been the only course of action to take.