Seductive Moments

by Altonya Washington

  Ray arched sharply as his mouth cruised the swell of her breasts, while his thumb rubbed a nipple until it stiffened. She was desperate to have his mouth there. Ray crossed her arms at her waist and rid herself of the top. The material slipped from her weakened fingers when Barker cupped her breast for his mouth to take possession of the nipple he’d molested.

  Her hands trembled as they cupped the back of his head. It wasn’t long before his head ceased moving against her palms. Ray realized he’d continued his descent down her body. He plied the satiny dip of her navel with a merciless tonguing that tickled as severely as it aroused.

  Instinct had Ray arching her bottom in anticipation of losing the flannel shorts she wore. Her breath hitched, enveloped in a sharp cry when Barker simply tongued her through the material, subjecting her clit to a fierce suckle that sent her fingers curving tightly into the bed’s plush comforter.

  Hearing her moan the first syllable of his name again, Barker made quick work of taking her out of her shorts, and then he was resuming his feast at her core. The influx of feeling saturated Ray’s senses. She felt as overwhelmed by the remarkable beauty of the moonlit window as she was by the ravenous thrusts Barker used to take her to orgasm. When it hit, Ray didn’t know whether to scream in delight or outrage. The influx of sensation magnified and then, like that, she was deprived.

  He left her writhing in scorching need while he pushed up to jerk out of his clothes. Ray was unconscious of how her need ruled her as she shuddered and rolled on the mad tangle of covers. He removed his clothes with ruthless efficiency but took his time returning to the bed. He preferred to enjoy the sight of the honey-toned beauty he had there. She was a vision and desperate to have her arousal sated...by him. Ray gave an almost violent jerk in reaction to his touch when his hand circled the bend of her knee.

  He shushed her, his mouth skimming the toned, silken line of her thigh. The directive silenced as his tongue claimed her sex once more. Ray could have arched right from the bed, were it not for his hand steadying her hip. She was secure there to accept his treat. Barker’s moans mingled with hers when he felt her muscles flex around his tongue. Like before, he was attuned enough to her reactions to know when he’d driven her far enough.

  Ray was dually pleasured by the captivating overhead view and the sensations occurring below her waist. She felt utterly adored and didn’t think it got any better than what she presently endured. Then, Barker straightened, pulled her by her thighs to the edge of the bed and filled her in one lengthy, thick stroke. Her hips were high above the covers but, secured as she was, she couldn’t arch or rock in approval. Barker had her positioned to his satisfaction and totally at the mercy of his desire.

  Ray could only lie back and enjoy it. She wasn’t about to complain. Barker took her with an intent deftness that stretched her fantastically. She threaded her fingers through her hair and absorbed every nuance of erotic bliss that zipped through her veins.

  She could hear Barker’s vocal reactions gain volume, and soon she was moaning over his release against the thin sheeting of the condom. It was like experiencing a massage within a caress within a massage.

  Once Barker spent himself inside the condom, he kept Ray positioned for several moments after. When he withdrew, Ray had only a few additional moments to lie limp and sated on the well-used bed. Soon, he was returning and positioning her for their next round of lovemaking.

  He received no complaints from her.

  Chapter 12

  “As usual, your hunches are like gold, boss.”

  Barker grinned while dicing the last of the scallions on the chopping board. “She confirmed it?” he asked.

  “Did she ever! A lot of bad blood still in the water from that marriage.” Harvey Olssen’s soft chuckle managed to plow through the line despite its low volume. “His habits really took them through the ringer, boss.”

  “Yeah...yeah, they did.” Barker recalled the rumors of Steven Saltzman’s gambling addiction. He’d known a different man when he’d first come to Philadelphia as a new chef eager to prove himself.

  “He’s a good guy in spite of that,” Barker told his reporter. “I wouldn’t like to see him go down that road again. So, um, no second thoughts about leaving him now that he’s a big deal at LaMours?”

  Again, Harvey chuckled through the line. “His ex—didn’t sound like she had any second thoughts about calling a quits on the marriage. I asked and she laughed over the irony. Said working for LaMours only gave Saltzman a close-up view of the life he ruined their marriage to be part of.”

  Barker shook his head while setting the scallions into the fridge, along with the tomatoes, bell peppers and red onions he’d already prepped for the omelets he’d planned for breakfast that morning.

  “Have you found anything that links him to my uncle?”

  “Sorry boss, no.” The apology echoed in Harvey voice. “Looks like being there was just more of the guy wanting a taste of the good life. What are you thinkin’?”

  Barker wiped his hands on a dish towel. “I think it’s time for Saltz to share the wealth.”

  Harvey’s laughter resounded yet again. “Any plans for makin’ that happen?”

  “Workin’ on it.” Barker tossed aside the towel. “Listen, keep digging and call if you find anything interesting.”

  “Will do. Enjoy.” Harvey urged before ending the connection.

  “Yeah, workin’ on it,” Barker parroted his earlier reply, but was referring to a different situation entirely. He scanned his well-equipped cooking space. He’d started his prep work over an hour ago. It was creeping up on 9:00 a.m. but looked closer to 7:00 p.m. with the low-hanging clouds still lingering from the previous afternoon. Clearly, they were in for another blanket of snowfall. He was fine with that—it gave him a perfect reason to stay in for the day.

  Ray had yet to emerge downstairs even after he’d put on a remarkably fragrant pot of coffee. He realized the aroma probably wouldn’t reach her on the loft floor. And if it had, she probably hadn’t awaken. He’d left her sleeping deeply and even got the monstrous hearth going with a fire before he headed downstairs. Between the fire, the dreary snowy morning and the decadent super king-size bed, he decided Ray had the right idea and heavily debated joining her.

  * * *

  Ray crept back into the conscious realm with a sigh. If anyone ever asked if she knew what real contentment felt like, she’d be able to tell them in strict detail.

  Lying on her stomach, she treated herself to a languid spread-eagled stretch in the large bed. Slowly, she turned her face onto the other side of the pillow and cracked open an eye to search for Barker. She was especially surprised to find him gone. She could tell the room was a trace more illuminated than it’d been before she’d dozed off in his arms the night before. There was something else, though. The room seemed to carry additional illumination.

  Taking her time—a lot of it—Ray rolled again, this time to her side. The covers were thick and pampering, so it took a bit of doing to shift easily beneath them. She caught an energetic flickering from the corner of her eye and gave a soft cry of delight. The blaze in the towering hearth was a glorious sight and almost as riveting as the skylight above.

  She pushed herself into a partial sitting position and smiled serenely toward the golden glow. The flame could have easily summoned her back to sleep. Apparently, Barker read her mind.

  “Think I could get you to eat something before you conk out again?” he asked.

  Ray scooted up, the feel of exquisite adoration still clinging as the linens bunched about her hips and left her bare from the waist up. “You don’t know me as well as you think you do, Mr. Grant.”

  “I’ll enjoy telling you why you’re wrong, but do you think we could do it over breakfast?”

  “One condition,” she said. “Coffee must be involved.”

  “Well, well.” His
brow quirked. “There is. But you know, I once thought you were more of a tea girl.”

  Before answering, Ray spared a look around the enchanting room and the snow-sugared skylight. “Tea’s great, but some mornings call for things with a little more kick.”

  “I’ll agree with that more after you get something in your system.” Barker made a terrific effort not to leave his post on the archway. Rayelle Keats was murder on his self-control.

  Ray pushed to her knees. “That’s kind of what I meant,” she said.

  “I meant food,” he countered.

  Ray responded with a theatrical sigh and a quick glance downward. “Should I go like this?”

  “Check the edge of the bed,” he instructed.

  Ray saw the shirt he’d worn the day before. “I’ve got more appropriate things in my room, you know?”

  “Doubtful. Put it on. Meet me in the kitchen.”

  * * *

  Barker had the coffee poured and bacon on to sizzle by the time Rayelle arrived downstairs. He nodded toward his shirt, which hovered just above her knees.

  “Like I said, appropriate,” he noted with a smirk.

  Ray took a seat at the cooking island. She’d made a pit stop by her room for a pair of house flats. She had also considered dressing, but didn’t want to be too inaccessible in case Barker had plans for them after breakfast. She was surprisingly comfortable given the vastness of the chateau. The place seemed quite easy to heat.

  “The floors are even warm,” she remarked.

  Barker laughed. “You know black folks hate to be cold.”

  Ray enjoyed her seat on the high stool and appreciated being enveloped by the cushioned seating.

  Barker watched his houseguest closer than he realized. He smiled while she leaned in to doctor her coffee with cream and sugar before gulping with intense desire. “It loses something when it’s guzzled down,” he cautioned.

  “I disagree,” she said.

  Once half the brew had been downed, Ray sighed and smiled with renewed pleasure.

  “Thank you.” She squeezed the fat, glazed mug in both hands.

  Barker offered a slow nod. He’d hoped she’d take the coffee at full strength. He was eager to see the exhaustion leave her lovely eyes.

  “So, tell me about your volunteer work,” he urged in an attempt to keep her from questioning the concern in his eyes when he’d assumed she’d seen it.

  Ray shifted to a new position on the generous stool cushion. “I’m working on some new ideas to encourage the girls to keep up with our visits. Things get harder the older they get.”

  Barker took sizzling bacon from the skillet. “You think they’re losing interest in going along with the system?” he asked.

  “Not really.” Ray chewed her thumbnail and absently watched as Barker placed the strips on a napkin lining the platter. “I do think other things could compete for their time and influence them.”

  “Boys? Jobs?” he guessed.

  Ray grinned. “Not much tops a paycheck—even a boy.”

  “Especially when you still live in that sublime period of your life when bills don’t exist,” Barker mused.

  Ray laughed heartily. “Exactly!”

  Barker pushed the platter of bacon toward Ray and smiled when she helped herself. “You’re concerned,” he noted.

  She shook her head and crunched the bacon. “I know how seductive money can be with all its provocative ways.”

  “What?” He queried the change in her expression.

  Ray only waved him off. “The independence that comes with making your own money—it’s got a...way about it. Those ways can lead you to some pretty unfortunate decisions in the pursuit of holding on to it. Especially when it’s the only consistent thing in your life. The one secure thing.”

  “Even the...privileged among us can understand that.”

  Ray smiled over Barker’s outlook, appreciating the dig at his own background.

  “Holding on to that one secure thing follows us through life, I guess.” He shrugged as he added olive oil to a wide skillet. “The longer it does, the greater our chances for making unfortunate decisions that can be hard to reverse.”

  “Hard but not impossible,” Ray said.

  “True, but not all of us are blessed to see that—we just keep making bad decisions because we think we’ve gone too far to turn back.”

  Ray sipped her coffee, delighting in the taste. “Sounds like you’ve got some firsthand knowledge.”

  “Some.” He pulled chopped veggies from the refrigerator. “I want us to have dinner one night when we’re back home, all right?” he asked while taking more items from the fridge.

  “I, um—” Caught off guard by the swerve in conversation, Ray stammered her reply. “If you want that.”

  “I want that.” He studied her closely from the fridge and then gave a swift shake of his head. “It’s for work,” he said. “Someone who got caught up in the ways of money.”

  “Are we taking them to dinner to talk about it?”

  “No. I want you to help me fulfill my cover-up with an...accessory on my arm.” He sent her a wink and enjoyed the smile she returned.

  “Sounds like fun.” Ray sipped more of the coffee. “I get to see the mastermind reporter at work.”

  “Hmph, I don’t know about the mastermind part.”

  Ray squinted her eyes in pretend concentration. “I can think of at least three awards I saw at your place that prove otherwise.”

  Still, Barker looked unconvinced. “If I were a mastermind, I’d have figured out a way to get you to take me seriously a long time ago.”

  “Bar.” Ray straightened on the stool. “I do take you seriously.”

  He stopped his prep work with the omelet mixture. “Seriously enough to be honest with me?”

  “I have been.” Her smile was genuine but quietly curious.

  Barker’s pitch stare was unwavering. “I wonder about that.”

  She stiffened. “Why?”

  “Couple of things. We can start with you telling me what my uncle said to you.”

  “Provocative ways,” she said after a few beats of quiet debate with herself. “He said women like me...our provocative ways cling to us like a film. He said most men could see that film, but others couldn’t, and those were the idiots who convinced themselves that they were in love with such women, as if such women were capable of love. They were really only capable of lust and using it to advance themselves in life and status.” She swallowed, more unnerved then by the sight of Barker’s fist near the large knife he’d been using. “Barker—”

  “What else?”

  “Barker, I—”

  “I know my uncle well enough to know the germ wouldn’t have passed on a chance to run down my mother, too.”

  He gave her a crooked smile that she guessed was meant to be reassuring. If anything, it made him look more dangerous.

  “We’re in Switzerland, Ray,” he reminded her with a sly eye roll. “It’s not like I can just run out and beat him to death.”

  Ray didn’t bother to point out that she knew him well enough by then to know he was patient. Patience could often yield deadly results.

  “He, um—” She cleared her throat to buy some time, though that would solve nothing. “He said she had certainly used it to advance herself—that she’d even outlived his brother but gave him a fine son to ensure the bulk of the family fortune remained under her thumb.”

  Now, both Barker’s hands were closed fists on the counter. His head was bowed, eyes closed, and Ray knew he was talking himself down and out of whatever lethal payback he was ready to inflict.

  “That would’ve been the last straw,” he said, almost in a whisper. “I might’ve killed him for that.”

  “Yeah.” The word came on a sigh. “I figured as much,�
� she said.

  “You shouldn’t have to tolerate that.”

  “I’ve tolerated that all my life.” Her smile was content, resigned. “Sort of just rolls off after a while.”

  “Does it really?”

  She shrugged over his doubt. “If I tell myself enough.”

  “I can’t tolerate it, Ray.”

  “Well then, it’s a lucky thing I don’t have to spend time with your family. Besides, I met more people who were sweet than jerks. Your cousin Debra was very nice.”

  “Yeah, yeah, she is.” Barker seemed to let go of some of the anger that was swelling his shoulders. “Guess we’re lucky to have only a few lumps of crap in the family.”

  “So, will you stop worrying now?” Refreshed, she stood.

  Barker grinned. “I guess I can—what? Ray?” He frowned, not liking the look on her face then at all. “Honey? You okay?”

  “I am, I—” She tried and failed to complete the statement. She was the one bracing her fists to the counter then in an effort to steady herself. It was no match against the queasy feeling that had suddenly taken over her head and stomach. She gave an awkward look to her coffee then.

  “Maybe I should be more of a tea girl.” She tried to smile, but only managed a grimace.

  Barker made no comment, though an element of knowing held his stare. When she put the back of her fist to her mouth, he folded his arms over his chest and seemed to be waiting on more to come.

  Ray shoved from the counter, rushing toward a short hall, where a powder room was located. Barker gave her just over thirty seconds alone and then followed. He wasn’t a bit surprised to find her heaving into the black porcelain toilet.

  Ray was so wrought by sickness, she gave no reaction when Barker pulled back her hair to keep it as far from her mouth as possible. Her violent retching soon became a series of intermittent dry heaves. When they settled, she hugged the bowl as though she trusted it above all else.

  Her grip was easily broken when Barker pulled her close after taking care to wet a cloth and wipe her mouth. Ray turned her face into his neck, while Barker carried her back to bed.