He barked a short laugh. “Let me show you how good sex can be.” He kissed her tenderly, wanting to reassure her he was sincere and that she could trust him. “I think you like me, and I know I like you, and that’s why I’m going to make this memorable. You won’t forget tonight, I promise.” He kissed her again. “Trust me, please?”
“I... I do.” Her eyes turned dark and cloudy, and he slid off her, bracing himself on his elbow, not touching her, just talking. “Nice blouse.”
“It’s a tube top because it’s just a tube of material and no straps.”
“Or bra.”
“What are you going to do to me?”
“Right now I’m taking inventory. Make you realize how lovely you are and replace all those events of the last time you had sex. Nice skirt.”
“Kind of short.”
He winked. “Short is good. I’m going to make love to you, but the only way we finish it is for you to take off what’s under that skirt because you want to make love to me. I want this to be your call.”
“I can make the call right now, Digger.”
“That’s just sex drive, an itch that needs to be scratched. I want there to be more between us.”
“I don’t understand.”
“You will.” He leaned over her, his arm on the other side by her shoulder, his lips the only thing touching her. “Relax,” he coaxed.
“Okay,” she said, forcing a smile but looking more tense than ever. He had his work cut out for him, and if he ever came across that Mr. Mercy Fuck, he’d tear him apart.
Digger’s tongue drew the outline of her mouth, and he planted a kiss at one corner, the other, then along her jaw-line to her right ear. He licked the soft lobe, then suckled it gently into his mouth. His fingers raked her hair from her face, then massaged her nape.
Her shoulders sagged a bit, and he kissed her throat, feeling her pulse beat hard and strong against his lips. His finger drew lazy circles across her chest, small at first, then ever widening, each time dipping a little farther beneath her spandex top and stroking the soft flesh there. Her breathing accelerated as his fingers slowed, then lingered at her cleavage. “You are so soft, so sweet, your skin’s like silk.”
“Why are you teasing me?”
“I’m not taking from you, Georgette. I want to give to you. I want you to be aware of how wonderful you are.”
Her hand suddenly cupped his erection, and his eyes shot wide open. She said, “I really appreciate the offer and all your considerate plans and noble intentions but not now. You got something else I appreciate a lot more.” Her hand on his dick pressed a bit harder, and with her other hand she shoved his shoulder, sending him reeling flat on his back, staring at his own ceiling, the lightning showing him how badly it needed painting.
Georgette released his dick and leaned over him. She ground out, “I’ve had no sex for quite a while—do you understand—a long while. Most of that was because I wasn’t all that desirable, the last part because the men I came in contact with looked as if they wanted to eat me alive. But you didn’t act that way. You’re better, a gentleman. If you want to give me something, do it now, and I don’t mean neck massages and some kisses. I want sex, with you, right here and now on this floor.”
Then she kissed him, plunging her tongue deep into his mouth, driving home the point of exactly what she wanted in case there was some part of I want sex right now he didn’t understand.
Panting, she sat up, swung her head to flip her hair from her face and straddled his waist, one knee on each side, her skimpy skirt nearly showing her wears that he so wanted to see. She ripped off his denim jacket that she wore and sent it flying across the room. She pulled the tube top over her head, revealing the most gorgeous breasts he’d ever seen in his life. Full, round, perky, lush . . . very lush, dusky tips. “Sweet mother have mercy!”
“Forget mercy, and for God’s sake, Digger, be sure to forget your mother!”
She cradled one breast in each of her palms and gazed down as if taking stock. “At first I was kind of self-conscious with these puppies. My new body took a little getting used to.” She flounced her breasts, nearly giving him an orgasm on the spot. “A seven-grand boob job and you want to kiss my neck? We can do a whole lot better than that.”
She stood over him, one foot on each side where her knees had been. She unzipped her skirt, tugged it upward, having difficulty getting it over her boobs, then slid it over her head. She tossed it wherever the jacket went, leaving her in the skimpiest pair of panties he’d ever seen. About the consistency of . . . dental floss.
He finally managed, “I wanted to make love to you and—”
“And now you don’t?”
“I wanted to be gentle, dammit, and caring because of that other jerk and—”
“Digger, you’re not him, and I can tell from all the looks I get from guys I’m no longer a mercy fuck. In fact, most guys take me for a member of the frequent-flyer club, but I’m not that either. I never got up my courage before tonight to take a man up on his offer of sex, but for you . . . with you . . . Well, you’re special. You said for me to trust you, and I do with all my heart. I fixed your motor, didn’t I?” She grinned. “How about you fix mine.”
“I got to say I don’t think I’ve ever had an invitation like that before.” He scooted from between her legs and stood up. He scooped her up into his arms with a little yelp and kissed her. “And I accept.”
He dropped her gently onto the couch, then shrugged off his T-shirt and dropped it to the floor. He leaned over her, and she held up her hand.
“Don’t stop with your shirt, big boy. You’ll just have to get up again, and I want action right now. And don’t forget protection.”
He straightened and looped his thumbs into the waistband of his jeans. “Are you always this damn bossy in the bedroom, girl?” He kicked off his shoes.
She paused as if considering something, then sucked the tip of her index finger between her lips and gave him a coy smile. “Guess I’ve been a naughty girl, huh. Maybe . . . you should spank me.”
He froze. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t breathe. She curled her legs up, grabbed his hand and pulled him down onto the couch beside her. She kissed him, then lay across his lap facedown, her incredible rump right in front of him. “Ever spank a five-thousand-dollar tushy before?”
His dick swelled, pressing hard against his zipper and for sure into her soft patch of curls. “Hell, I’ve never spanked anything before.”
“But you’d like to, least right now. I can so tell.” She wiggled her twin mounds of delectable tight flesh while also massaging his dick with her front. “You gave that motor a nice sound pat. Try it now.”
He rested his left hand on one soft, silky cheek. “Oh, God, I’m going to hell.” He swallowed. “I can’t.”
She pinched his side.
“Ouch!” He smacked her bottom. It was like a reflex, and he felt ashamed until Georgette giggled and kicked her legs, and he watched a hint of pink form in the shape of his hand. “Okay, that’s it, no more. I—”
She pulled the leg hair at his ankle, and he swatted her again, then three more times as she giggled more, sounding like a schoolgirl and kicking her legs. “Oh, Digger, you are too much fun.”
She flipped over and threw her arms around him. “We’ll have to do that again. I hear they have these velvet handcuffs.” She looked at him, her eyes dancing with devilment. “I so like being a bad girl with you, Digger.”
He leaned back and closed his eyes. “I swatted a woman. I’m damned.”
“But the woman had fun and so did you. It’s a little fantasy to spice up our lives of fixing motors and storms and paying the bills.”
She kissed him, her tongue coaxing his into action. “That was a love tap, and I want more.” She kissed him again. “And I intend to be bad enough to deserve it.” She curled her index finger into his hair and Frenched him in the ear. Then she reached into his back pocket and slid out his wallet, fished aroun
d and pulled out a condom. She held it up. “Now I can take care of you.”
She sat beside him and unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans. She slid her hand into the slit of his blue skivvies and freed his throbbing dick. “My, my, what have we here?”
“Pain.”
She grazed her thumb over the swollen head, and he gritted his teeth. “Georgette, what happened to wanting sex fast and furious?”
“Forget fast, but I’m really getting into the furious part.”
“Fast would be good now.” He pulled the blue package from her fingers, tore it open with his teeth and covered himself. He pushed her back onto the couch, stood and stripped off his clothes.
She wanted Digger so bad she could almost feel his very ample attributes between her legs. Every fiber pulsed at the thought. She’d never felt like this before. Truth be told, more often than not men scared the hell out of her . . . except for Digger. “You sure have a great three-piece set there, hunky man.” She removed her panties and held out her arms. “I think it’s time you showed me how it works.”
“I can’t believe you’ve always been this bold.”
“Only in my dreams, my fantasies, and now with you. Come on, giddyap.”
He put his arm on the back of the couch so as to lean over her. He slowly ran his index finger between her breasts, looking his fill. He continued over the indent of her navel and onto the patch of dark, soft curls between her legs. She bit her bottom lip as he slid one finger into the slippery folds, and she sucked in a deep breath.
“You’re so wet, so ready, all for me. I want this to feel good and—”
“Digger,” she said in a hoarse voice. “If I feel any better, it’ll be over with, and all I’ve gotten is your finger.” She pulled his arm supporting his weight, and he landed flat, face-to-face on top of her, his chest to hers, his hips to hers, his wonderfully hard erection at the apex of her legs, waiting and wanting action. She could feel the heat of his dick right through the condom.
“Making love to you is some adventure and damn if I don’t love every minute of it.” He kissed her, and she wrapped her legs around his back the way she’d seen it done in books. It seemed to work pretty good because Digger kissed her as he slowly pushed into her.
“Relax, honey,” he whispered against her lips as he eased in farther. Her skin sizzled, every nerve alive. She spread her legs, taking him deeper. “You’re so much a . . . man.” She arched against him, and he entered her completely. “Oh, Digger!” she breathed on a sigh. “You feel so damn good.”
Then before she could stop it her body clenched in climax, and he held her tight, thrusting into her again, then again. Her heat convulsed around his erection, and her fingers dug into his back as she let herself go completely, consumed by Digger and being one with him as he reached his own climax.
Sweat dripped down his temples in spite of the cool air from the storm drifting through the room, every hard muscle in his body relaxing now. He rested his head beside hers as she said, “How’d you learn to do that?”
“It’s you, honey, all you.” His tongue traced the gentle folds of her delicate ear. “You’re incredible.”
“I never knew sex could be so fantastic.”
“Ditto, ditto and more ditto.” He kissed the spot behind her ear, making her shudder. “You’re perfect, Georgette. You were made for loving.”
She circled her fingers through his hair. “It’s the makeover, Digger, that turns you on. My new, improved body that’s all nice and firm and perfect. The best body money can buy.”
He levered himself up on his elbows and gazed down at her. Hair tousled, eyes bright. He rested his index finger at the tip of her chin. “It’s not your body. As perfect as it is, that’s not what makes you a perfect partner. It’s here.” He kissed her forehead, nearly making her cry from the tenderness and sincerity. Then he touched her chest. “And you feel here what I feel. We’re together, not just taking. This was more than a physical climax, Georgette. And I swear that’s true and not some corny line.”
“You’re a romantic and a poet. You are some guy.”
“I’m a man who appreciates you, the real Georgette.” He toppled them both back onto the floor, putting her on top, exposing her heated body to the night air. She laughed as she fell across him. “Now what do we do?”
He winked. “Hungry?”
“Starved.” She studied him for a long moment the only sound the raging storm. “You’re an incredible lover, Digger O’Dell. I had no idea it would be like this between us. I’m so glad I met you. And just wait till I tell you about some of the other fantasies I’ve had.”
Chapter 11
As thunder rumbled and rain beat against the windows, Keefe stared at his father across the candlelit hallway of Hastings House. “What are you doing here?”
“And I suppose I should be asking you the same dern question.” Rory shifted from one foot to the other. “What are you doing here?”
“Callie and I were coming back from Memphis and went off the road. What’s your excuse?”
Rory harrumphed. “Grant ran you off, no doubt. He sure gets his trousers in a twist when we get Southerners visiting like Callie and the other gal who’s staying here, and then there’s the rain that seems to make him antsy as all get-out. Bet Grant’s looking for his troops and—”
“Dad?”
He raked his hair. “Hell, boy, I came up here to check on Thelma. With Conrad off in New Orleans and this storm hammering down to beat the band I figured she could use a little looking after.”
“Where’s Bonnie?”
“She’s with me, of course. What’d you think I’d do with her, sell her to the gypsies? She’s sleeping in one of the rooms upstairs. Thelma’s putting her down now. She said you were hanging around, but I thought you’d turned in or I would have come up and said howdy to you.” He gave Keefe a hard look. “So, why the hell aren’t you asleep ... or something. You got Callie with you; what in blazes are you doing roaming the halls with that sweet girl upstairs?”
“Callie rescued a cat and she escaped. I’m doing cat duty. Have you seen her? Little dirt-ball kind of thing faster than greased lightning?”
Keefe caught Thelma coming toward him holding Dusty. “Is this the critter you’re looking for?”
Keefe held the cat in one hand, then hugged it to his side, not so much from endearment, but for escape prevention. With holding a candle in his other hand it was the best he could do. Anyway, what was Thelma doing in the kitchen? Wasn’t she supposed to be putting Bonnie down? Probably getting a bottle.
Rory said, “Well, now you got your cat and you can hightail on out of here. We all need to be getting some sleep. It—it’s damn late.”
“Like anybody’s going to sleep in this storm.”
Rory peered at him across the darkness. “Just give it a try, okay?” With a wave of his hand he shooed Keefe toward the stairs, Dusty snarling and hissing as if the devil had him by the tail. Rory called, “That cat sure needs a bath. I suggest you tend to it right now.”
Keefe climbed the stairs, feeling two sets of eyes glued to his back like when he was a kid and did something wrong and was sent to his room. He turned and his dad did another shoo wave in return. Keefe made for the next floor, losing sight of Rory and Thelma.
Lightning and thunder gave Hastings House a real Poe quality. If a damn raven flew over his head, he wouldn’t have been surprised. Keefe went down the hall and peeked inside Callie’s room, no one home. He made for the bathroom across the hall, but that door was wide open, and she wasn’t there either. He lingered for a moment, soaking up the aroma of Callie. Which probably wouldn’t linger too long as Thelma had made good on her promise of a litter box, cat food and water. There was also an ice pack for his eye. Thelma was a busy woman. How’d she find time to take care of Bonnie and do all this?
He put Dusty on the floor and went to close the door to keep her in when the Houdini of the feline world snuck out the last tiny crack. Keefe saw her
gallop down the hall and skid through another open door at the very end. “Fuck. I do not need this.” Would this night ever end?
He dragged his tired body after the cat. The open door led to another flight of steps. These were plain wood, unfinished, attic quality. He felt as if trapped in some stupid B-grade movie full of plot holes. Why would a defenseless woman probably wrapped in a towel and a dirty cat who had to be hungry go up some creepy stairs to a place they didn’t know, with the lights out no less?
Dusty was still in bath-avoidance mode, so that was her excuse for running away but what was Callie’s? Basic reporter nosiness? Then he considered her in that towel, and he suddenly couldn’t put two thoughts together. “Double fuck.”
He followed the stairs, holding the candle high to cast light around. “Callie? Dusty? Freddy Kruger.”
The stairs creaked. Heck, the whole blooming house did, and the storm didn’t help. He got to the top, the rain extra loud with him right under the roof. Things were piled high here and there. In front of him were a chair and chaise lounge covered with a sheet, two trunks, an old sled ... If it had Rosebud on it or if he heard a beating heart under the floorboards, he was so out of here. He’d had his fill of weirdness for one night. Dusty sat perched on a stack of encyclopedias.
Keefe lunged, missed Dusty, tripped on God knew what, then grabbed for something to regain his balance and not drop the blasted candle. Callie suddenly appeared and snagged his shoulder, both losing their balance and dropping onto the chaise, sitting side by side like crows on a fence. “Thanks.”
“It’s a little congested up here; you got to watch where you walk.” She held the candle down by their feet. “You tripped over an extension cord. Wonder where that goes?”
“Probably charging up Frankenstein in the next room. What are you doing up here? I didn’t even see you.” She had on the towel outfit just like he thought she would. It covered her breast to thigh, leaving a lot of lovely bare, sweet-smelling skin.
“I was behind a bookcase. I heard footsteps.”
“It’s raining; there’s bound to be noises. What did you think it was, Grant?” When she didn’t answer he did a double take. “You’re serious?”
The Way U Look Tonight Page 15
