by Saxon, K. E.
Chas would have loved to spill his guts about the fairy, the choice, the charmed money, but he knew he’d get the same reaction from his father that Chas himself had given Delilah the night before. He wanted to save the company—he did. But the thought of losing Delilah caused such an ache inside him, he couldn’t breathe. “It may not come through.”
His father dropped his head. “It’s all my fault. I made investments that I should have known were too risky—and would have, if my mind had been on business and not on your mother’s health.” Looking directly at Chas again, he said, “I can’t lose this company, son. Not after losing your mother, too. It’d be too much. Do whatever you have to do, but get it on its feet again.”
Well, that was that. Chas flipped his pen from end to end on his desk several times. “Dad, can I ask you something?”
“Shoot.”
“If you had been given a choice between this company and Mom, which would you have chosen?”
“No brainer. Your mother, of course.”
“Why?”
His father chuckled, clearly thinking Chas was razzing him.
“I’m serious.”
His father’s face sobered. “She was the love of my life. She made every part of it richer, more fulfilling. Even though I love this company with every fiber of my being, it can’t keep me warm at night. It doesn’t worry when I’m late coming home, it doesn’t nurse me when I’m sick or tired to the bone, or both. Your mother did all those things and more.” He pointed a finger at him. “I think your little Delilah’s going to be the same for you. You finally backed a winner in her, son.”
Chas smiled, but didn’t meet his father’s eyes. “Yeah, I did. I’m lucky.”
“So you do love her then? It wasn’t just the money that got you interested? I did wonder.”
He met his father’s gaze. “Yes, I love her.”
“I can’t say I’m not relieved.”
“Mmm.” A sharp poignancy of love found and lost clutched at his heart. Well, if he was going to say goodbye to her, he’d at least leave her with a token of his esteem. “Dad, I think it’s time for you to hand over Mom’s ring. Will you bring it to the gala with you tomorrow night?”
His Dad hooted. “Finally. Now I know you’re serious. Yes, I’ll bring it.”
The ring was a family heirloom on his mother’s side. A five-carat cushion shaped yellow diamond, brought from Africa by his great-great-grandfather for his bride-to-be. The gem was surrounded by colorless diamonds and set in gold that had been mined directly from one of the man’s own quarries. It had been handed down from first son to first son until his mother, whose own mother had had only daughters, preserved the tradition through the female line. But now it was Chas’s turn and he only hoped that his mother would understand. She’d sternly told him when she’d given it to him that day after her last round of radiation that he was not, under any circumstances, to give it to one of his “fiancées of convenience,” that he was only to give it to someone he truly could not imagine a life without. He thought she might understand, knowing the circumstances and the depth of feeling he held for Delilah. He prayed she would understand.
* * *
The wire would be sent to Zurich on Monday. Delilah offered to transfer the funds today, but he put her off, telling her that Monday was soon enough. He couldn’t force himself to finalize his choice. Not yet. Not when there was still a little time to maybe—just maybe—sell his thoroughbred, if fortune shined on him.
The two-year-old filly was the last piece of property he owned that could be liquidated for enough funds without sending out a town crier blasting the fact that their business was in trouble. That’s why he hadn’t put their family home or his hi-rise on the chopping block. It would have raised too many eyebrows and subtlety was vital.
Unfortunately, the prospective buyer for his thoroughbred had been dragging her feet for months and Chas wasn’t about to sell Blue Lightnin’ for a song, nor would he sell her to just anyone, no matter what the outcome. The filly meant too much to him. She’d been a gift from his mother just before her diagnosis, when his world still looked rosy and his future still looked bright.
The filly had never raced but was descended from two Kentucky Derby winners, and she could run an eighth of a mile in under ten seconds. She was worth every penny he was asking for her. If only the interested party would come through for him, Chas could save his company and keep Delilah in the bargain. For Delilah, he’d sell ten such thoroughbreds.
* * *
CHAPTER NINE
Even if it did mean he was the lousiest, lowest form of bottom feeder ever to enter the food chain, Chas knocked on Delilah’s door that evening. Wine bottle in one hand, bouquet in the other, he intended to make love to her all night, despite knowing there was more than a good chance he’d be breaking their engagement tomorrow before midnight.
He’d tried all afternoon and into the evening to get hold of the woman interested in his filly, but hadn’t received a return call. Chas still had most of tomorrow to get a line in to her, though he wasn’t holding out a lot of hope at this point.
He just couldn’t say goodbye to Delilah yet. Not yet.
The door swung open. “Hi Cha—”
He swept her into his embrace, kissing her hungrily on her mouth. Dropping the flowers, he moved across the threshold and into the foyer.
“Mmm…I missed you, too,” she murmured against his lips, amusement ripe in her tone. Melting against him, she slung her arms around his neck, raking her fingers through his hair as she melded her mouth to his once more.
The bottle of wine teetered, but didn’t fall from the entryway table, when he set it there. “I want you.”
She smiled against his mouth. “Sounds good. But what about dinner?”
He sucked on her lower lip. “Later.”
Throwing her head back and flinging her arms wide, she went limp in his embrace. “Take me, I’m yours.”
“Yes.” You are.
He carried her into her bedroom like some caveman out of a B-movie, dropped her on the bed with her legs sprawled off the edge, and stepped between them. He’d never done anything like it in his life before—was, on some other, distant level, surprised and a little appalled at himself—but was so hot for her, he hadn’t the will to change his course. He unzipped his pants and shoved the open fly of his boxers aside, setting his eager cock free. “I need to be inside you Dee.”
“I need that, too.”
She sat up, unbuttoning her blouse, but he pressed her back. “Too time consuming.” When she grinned and gave him a nod of pure-devil understanding, he pushed her skirt up over her hips, lifted her legs over his shoulders, and pulled aside the crotch of her silk panties. He slid into her in one long, gratifying stroke, their surprised gasps mingling in the hushed room.
In the next instant, they were moving in perfect time together, writhing and straining, breaths coming fast and feverish, bodies striving toward release. The pleasure nearly killed him. “Oh, God, Dee. Oh, God.” Somewhere, in the back of his mind, he knew he sounded like an imbecile, but poetic, sexy words were beyond him at that point.
Suddenly, her eyes flew wide and she cried out, arching high beneath him, her thighs quivering, a wave of rose glow rushing over her face and neck, as her canal convulsed around him. Pinpricks of light danced in his vision, the pace and depth of his strokes increasing of their own volition. His head rolled back on his shoulders as an involuntary roar burst from his lips and hot cum exploded from the very core of him.
When his head stopped spinning enough to risk movement, he leaned down and kissed her drowsy eyelids and soft, warm mouth. “Let’s get more comfortable,” he said and slowly slid out of her. She murmured in protest, but was clearly still under afterglow’s spell, because she didn’t say a word, barely even opened her eyes, while he helped her reposition herself on the mattress. He rolled her on her side and lay down beside her so that they spooned.
He held her like that f
or a good long time, content to be near her, smelling the floral fragrance of her hair, the heady scent of her feminine skin, and watching the sun’s last rays move across the room, leaving quiet shadows in their wake.
“Do you think our children will have black hair or blond?” she asked out of the blue.
The question roused him from the twilight he’d fallen into and immediately put a vise grip around his heart. A child with Delilah. God, he wanted that. He rolled away from her slightly and looked up at the ceiling with one arm still tucked under her head. “I—” his voice cracked, so he cleared his throat. “I don’t know. It would be nice to have one of each, I guess.” He felt her grin against his arm.
“Yeah. I like that,” she said, rolling over to face him and scooting closer so that she could use his shoulder as a pillow. “We’re going to have a wonderful life together,” she said, running her hand over his chest.
He leaned down and kissed her, taking her hand in his. “Yes, we are.” If I can sell the thoroughbred. The diamond in her engagement ring grazed his palm and he loosened his grip. As he continued to kiss her, he thought of the ring he wanted to give her instead and he wondered abstractedly if he shouldn’t have brought it over to her tonight. No, better to give it to her tomorrow night, after he explained about the fairy, and the choice she’d given him to make. Explained how he’d had to choose his father’s happiness over his own. She’d understand his choice, Chas had no doubt about that. Her generosity and big, open heart were a significant part of why Chas had fallen in love with her in the first place.
She murmured and rolled onto her back, bringing him with her. “Ready for another session with Mistress Domnonea?” she purred, a definite twinkle in her eye.
He grinned. “Uh huh.” So, okay, the fact that she had a very sexy dark side only enhanced his feelings. He allowed his eyes to trail down her clothed body. “But first I want to strip you naked and love you properly from head to toe.”
She stretched like a feline. “Mmm, promise?”
He answered her with a hard kiss on the mouth.
As he moved his attention to her neck, he unbuttoned her blouse and freed her breast from her lacy bra.
“I love you so much, Ch—oh!” she said, arching into him when he drew her nipple into his hungry mouth.
His chuckle rumbled against her breast, but his aching heart didn’t hear.
* * *
The next morning at the breakfast table in the kitchen, Chas rubbed his wrist. “I think I might’ve given myself a sprain last night.”
“The cuffs? But they’re lined in fur. Let me see.” She reached her hand out and he extended his, allowing her to continue the massage as she examined his wrist for damage.
“They may be lined, but I yanked the crap out of them when I felt that ice cold mouth and tongue around me. It shocked the shit out of me.
She glanced up, anxiety in her expression. “You didn’t like it?”
“No, I hated it.”
Her face crumbled.
He quirked a smile at her. “That’s why I yelled like a banshee and nearly gagged you with the wad I shot not two seconds later.”
She relaxed and grinned at him. “Oh. Yeah. I did have to discipline you for that—you hadn’t asked my permission to have an orgasm, you bad boy.”
“Mmm, I remember,” he said, a dreamy tinge, heavy with desire, colored his voice. “’Course, to be fair, if you hadn’t blindfolded me I might not have lost it so quickly—forewarned is forearmed.”
Sitting forward, she lifted a brow at him. “Oh, and by the way, it wasn’t the semen, it was the fact that your hips jackknifed up ramming the head of your penis against the back of my throat. It caught me off guard.”
He sat back, sliding his wrist from her hands and crossed his arms over his chest. Giving her an answering grin, he said, “Well, you caught me off guard a little too, you know. I was expecting a hot fuck not a sub-zero blow job.” His brow darkened. “Where’d you learn that little trick anyway?” Even he could hear the trace of jealousy that had entered his voice.
“A book.”
The grin returned. “Ah. You’ll have to show me sometime.”
She jumped up. “I’ll go get it.”
He grabbed her arm and as he hauled her down on his lap, he said, “No. Next time.” If there is one, his heart reminded. His lust changed to poignant tenderness and he hid his face in her hair, nuzzling her ear and neck with his nose and lips. “You are so beautiful, Dee.”
She smiled, turning and kissing him softly on the lips before shaking her head. “I need to lose some more weight.”
“No you don’t.”
“Oh, yes I do.”
“Where?”
“My ass for one thing.”
He straightened, moved her away slightly so that he could give her a stern look in the eye. “You’d better not! I love your ass. It’s sexy as hell.”
She blushed with pleasure, but her gaze dropped away from his. “My stomach, then.”
“No way.” He stroked his hand over the area under discussion and said, “You’re soft and feminine, don’t change a thing.”
“But Chas, I have to. My body doesn’t go with yours—“
He snorted. “I beg to differ—“
“You’re muscular and strong, why there’s not an ounce of fat anywhere on you—your body type goes with someone toned and thin.”
“Dee, look at me.” He didn’t wait for her to comply, simply tugged her chin so that she was forced to look him in the eye. “Don’t lose a single ounce. I like you just the way you are. I have an affinity for curvy women, you know.”
She didn’t believe him, he could tell, and then she proved it by saying, “I’ve never seen you with one before me. Your ex was rail thin and gorgeous—she could have been a runway model.”
He shrugged. “I hadn’t met you yet—for the second time—and now that I’ve gorged myself on a banquet, I’ll never go back to rations.” He kissed her cheek and whacked her dazzling derrière. “Not an ounce. Understood?”
She smiled and settled into his embrace, resting her head on his shoulder. “Understood,” she said on a sigh.
“You know, now that I think about it, I’ll bet I got this appetite for ample curves from my dear ol’ grandpa. He loved the bombshells from the fifties: Marilyn, Jane Russell, Jayne Mansfield.” He smiled, reminiscing. “Yeah, I spent a lot of Saturdays watching old movies with him when I was a kid.” His eyes went wide and he sat up. “Holy shit!” He hooted and looked at Delilah. “I just remembered something hysterical!”
She laughed too. “What?”
“One time, when I was about sixteen or seventeen, he took out this ancient magazine from a drawer in his desk—do you know who Bettie Page is?”
Her brow furrowed. “No. Who is she?”
He laughed again, he couldn’t help it. “Only the most famous fetish model in American history.” He relaxed against the back of the chair again. “Anyway, he showed me a couple of pictures of her in full domme attire: leather, sky-high pumps, and a whip in her hand. I was seriously turned on.”
Her grin broadened. “Well, that explains a lot.”
So did his. “Yeah, doesn’t it just?”
* * *
Delilah hummed as she closed the door a little later that morning, listening for Chas’s car engine to start, waiting until she heard him pulling out of her driveway before she turned to go back to her bedroom. Tonight was the gala and they both had a long list of things to do before it began. It was past time for her to be dressed and out the door herself. In a state of unutterable happiness, she sighed and smiled. Last night had been…her mind revolted for a split second, but it was what it was: magic. It had been magic. Romantic, sexy, fun, full of love and laughter. Richer in texture and emotion than their first night together, the recurring memories of it gave wing to her heart. He loved her. Oh, he hadn’t said it, but it hovered in every action, in every look, it was there.
She’d had her
doubts, of course. After he’d left her at her doorstep the night of their engagement party she’d had plenty of time to worry over his motives. And their brief encounter yesterday morning had only fed her anxiety more. He’d been distant and rushed. Hadn’t even mentioned wanting to see her that evening, and she hadn’t been ready to push, so she’d left, conflicted and heartsore, believing they wouldn’t see each other again until tonight.
That’s why it had been both a thrill and surprise to find him on her threshold last evening. In fact, she’d nearly come to terms with the fact that she’d been duped into believing he had fallen for her, when the knock came on the door. And when he’d swept her up in his arms, had been so crazed to have her that he wouldn’t even let them undress first, that’s when her doubts had begun to take flight. But, she had to admit, it had been the emotion, the longing, in his voice when he’d spoken of the children they would have together that had sent the demon doubts fleeing for good.
* * *
Chas hung up the phone. It’d been a bit of a struggle, but he’d managed to keep his tone light and carefree. Sam Slade, his best friend from college, had agreed to fill the last spot at their table this evening.
Chas had learned that Sam was in town just before his engagement party and had invited him to that with the intention of asking him to be his best man, but Sam had left the party early, and Chas hadn’t gotten the chance to ask him. He supposed, now that the engagement was most likely going to be broken, it was a good thing he hadn’t gotten to talk to him.
Unfortunately, he’d forgotten about the stupid, kind of drunken, love triangle that had occurred between him, Isadora, and Sam that last year of college. That is, until Sam had asked him whether Isadora would be attending the event this evening. Then it had all come back to him in a rush. But hell, how was he to have known at the time that Sam was head over heels for the girl? They’d been sharing chicks their entire college career, why should that one have been different? Besides, Isadora had come on to him first. He defied any randy guy that age to say they’d nix a chance for free sex with a beautiful, shapely, horny redhead. Any guy.
