Lust on the Rocks

by Dianne Venetta

  “I tried... I tried to get to her. I dove down after her and yanked as hard as I could.” So hard, he feared he was hurting her. She had clutched hold of his arms, her nails digging in, her body jerked as he pulled. “But it was no use. The suction coming from the drain was too strong, too powerful.”

  Regret hammered. “I rose to the surface and shouted for help.” Vic hunched forward and jammed the heels of his hands against his eyes. He could still see Anna’s face, the desperate cry in her eyes as she knew the end was coming. “I went down again.” Again and again he tried, but she was running out of air. “I pulled her hair again, ripping it apart...” he murmured, pained, as though he could feel the hair tearing from his own scalp. Long, stringy strands, that wound themselves around his arms like tentacles. Vic fought the memory of her face, lost in a tangle of black silk. “I would have ripped it from her skull if I could have, but it didn’t seem to matter.”

  He paused, and his long ago failure cut deep, slashed his heart in two. Bleed, damn it, bleed. Suffer! She did. She relied on you and you failed her. She relied on you and you failed her. You failed her...

  Unable to control himself, Vic began to cry. Fifteen years—gone. A beautiful young life—lost. The pain poured out. Because of him. Guilt and anguish mixed together and his cries turned to muffled sobs. Anna was dead. Because he had been unable to save her. There was no one to help but him, and he hadn’t been enough.

  Sam’s hand went to his back, a sharp reminder of her presence. Face her, he urged himself. Face her.

  He pulled his hands away and turned toward Sam. Mascara ran down her cheeks, mixing with her blush in blotchy red streaks. The condo had grown dusky, eerily quiet as darkness closed in. And Vic felt strangely remote, distant, from Sam, the present…

  “It wasn’t enough,” he said plainly. “Nothing was, and within minutes, she went limp.” Dead. As she sank to the bottom she stared at him, eyes wide open in disbelief. Shock. Then her gaze glazed over, the life sucked from her body. It was an image he’d never forget. “The paramedics arrived and cut her free…” But she was already gone.

  Vic leaned forward, elbows to knees. He raked hands over his face, willing the memory to dim. As if it could. The moment was seared into his brain for a lifetime.

  Anna took a part of him with her that day. From school to dating, from college to career, her death affected every aspect of his life. Happiness had been replaced with loathing. Hatred, which he honed into a fine-edged sword meant for one singular quarry: Scaliano.

  Everything he did from then on out had been focused on the bastard who stole his sister’s future, his family’s happiness. First his law degree, then the negligence case in Reno. But it went nowhere. Nowhere until the Perry suit. No matter what it took, Vic wouldn’t rest until he personally saw justice served.

  In quiet companionship, Sam rubbed his back. Long, gentle strokes, comforting and soothing—and welcome, as the band of deception cinched around his chest began to loosen. Because she knew. No more fear of being dis-covered, no more mask of secrecy surrounding his intentions. He could go after Scaliano, full force, and nail his ass to the wall. And Sam would go with him. Because she knew. Because her ethics would prohibit anything short of punishment to the fullest extent of the law.

  Calmer, Vic allowed his gaze to drift outside, to float, to escape the bleakness which had settled indoors. The sun was long since down, the sky a haze of deep purple and blue. It was the end to another day. A day Anna would never see.

  Miami was a beautiful, vibrant city situated on the bay, but his sister preferred the mountains. Like him. Though the water always held a special allure for her...

  His mind closed. Stop. Don’t.

  Sam grazed his cheek bone with the soft skin of her knuckles and he could feel the heat of her stare as she ventured back onto the ice.

  “That’s why Selena’s ordeal hit you so hard, isn’t it?”

  Vic nodded.

  “And your parents?”

  What could he say?

  It devastated them. Losing a child tore a hole so wide it was irreparable, the ragged edges left to flap mercilessly in the drafts of a barren heart. “My father gave up his bid for the Governorship. My mom...” An image of her face, once beautiful in its carefree laughter, its resemblance to Anna’s bit into him. His mother had aged. Her lips had thinned, her passionate brown eyes had dulled. While her looks remained intact to the outside world, they were scored by grief, forever marred by tragedy. “She’s never been the same.”

  Though she managed the occasional smile for her son, it never reached its full brilliance. Never matched the abandon it had when Anna was alive. Because behind every one lay a gravestone, the perch from which his mother now viewed the world.

  Sam pulled Vic close and wrapped her arms around him. Like a shield, the force of her support encouraged him to take a break, to catch his breath.

  Leaning into her, it was a reprieve he needed. She laid her head against his and he let himself melt into her warmth, an act of pure survival.

  Sam hugged him tight. She used all her strength and held him to her body. The despair he revealed had been more than she imagined. Visceral, it seemed to swallow him whole.

  And it wasn’t fair. Vic deserved a life filled with the love and joy only a family could bring. Comfort and security, not nightmares and regret.

  She rocked him gently and counted the blessings in her own life. Her role as the oldest of six had been trying, to be sure, but ultimately she had the luxury of riding out the highs and lows, of wading through the ebb and flow of life, of family.

  Vic didn’t. Anna’s drowning had been a tsunami. A deadly, tumultuous tumble of circumstance that forever submerged his family and their hearts. Sam rubbed her cheek back and forth over the warm fuzz of his hair. Today he had taken a step closer. More than relaying the facts, he gave her a peek into his heart.

  It was a difficult step. A tenuous step. And one he wouldn’t regret. She’d make sure.

  “I couldn’t save her,” he whispered. “I tried but—”

  “Shhh...” she mouthed into his hair, savoring the connection; the familiar scent, the familiar man.

  “She needed me, and I let her down.”

  “Don’t say that—you did everything you could.”

  “It wasn’t enough. I couldn’t save her and she died...because of me.”

  “Stop,” Sam ordered at once and squeezed his body with intentional force. “I don’t ever want to hear those words again. You were a teenager.” Sam’s heart reeled at the unfairness. “A boy, for God’s sake!”

  He pressed his face into her shoulder, and rolled it back forth. No. “You did everything you possibly could.”

  But he refused to listen.

  Sam knew guilt was a bear. It was a nasty poison and left unchecked, could kill from the inside out. She kissed Vic’s head and murmured, “No one could have saved her, Vic. No one.”

  Vic slid his arms around Sam and tightened his grip. One she matched. Sam carved her determination in stone-cold resolve. Scaliano would pay. For his part in the Perry case and fifteen years ago at the hotel. One way or another he would rot in jail, where he belonged. She now understood all too well the drive behind Vic’s desire to punish. It made perfect sense. Knowing Vic as she did, she would have wondered if he didn’t go after the man with a sword in his hand and blood in his eyes.

  But justice came in many forms. The how would have to be worked out. Maybe not with this case. Mrs. Albright had to come first, but perhaps with another…. And while burying Scaliano wouldn’t bring his sister back, she’d help him.

  Anna. Sam’s heart staggered. Anna... Jess... The names coasted, faltered, wayward as they disappeared from sight. Sisters should be forever.

  Sam considered the man in her arms. The one she wanted to console, but with a pain so great, doubted anything could help. She stilled. Unless...

  From deep within, the idea rose like an epiphany. Unless she could give him release.
The notion gained momentum. From the memories, from the pain. It may not be forever, but if she could offer him a moment in time where nothing could intrude, nothing could invade, he could let go. Vic could escape the past and live in the moment—enjoy—with someone who cared.

  Hope and love were the only possibilities for Vic. They were the answer to everything. Not to replace, but renew. And it would begin with her. Right now.

  Vic stirred in her embrace. He felt solid, heavy, and she pulled back. With a hand to his cheek, she pressed her lips to the side of his head, and kissed him. The contact gave rise to a flicker of heat, deep in her core. “Vic.” With a cupped palm, she drew his face to hers—”

  The sadness she saw nearly crushed her.

  But she persisted. “I want you.”

  His black eyes turned fluid.

  Trailing fingers along the line of his jaw, she tipped his chin up and kissed him, this time on the lips, soft, gentle.

  Tender, pliant, yet he seemed hesitant. “I need you,” she said. Carpe diem. “I need to be with you.” He closed his eyes and touched his forehead to her chin. Her pulse skipped. Was it too much? Had she pushed in the wrong direction?

  When he pulled away, she saw sorrow had transformed—into molten desire. Relief blazed through her.

  Vic looked at her, deep into her eyes, as if there was no turning back. As if this moment between them meant more than confession, more than release. A tingle shimmied up her spine.

  As if it meant there was no turning back.

  He took her hand and interlacing their fingers together, he rose. Vic led her to the bedroom where he gingerly laid her down and eased his body alongside hers. He brushed a hand through her hair, twined it around his fingers. He lightly moved the hair from her face to behind her ears, then entangled it in his hand as he pushed back to hold the nape of her neck, his grip warm and secure.

  Sam was overcome with a need to kiss him. To lose herself in his strength, to curl up in the shelter of his body, to be reassured everything was going to be okay. For him, for her.

  For them.

  Light crept from the room, but she could still see him. Feel the heat of his measured gaze as it moved back and forth over hers. “I want to make love to you,” he said. “I want to make love to you all night long.” Lust made a soft entrance into his expression and his features mellowed. “Until every last ounce of you is spent.”

  The pressure of his body against hers, the scent of his nearness... Need rose sharp in her abdomen. She wanted the same.

  “And then I want to do it again and again and again,” he whispered, his mouth hovering close.

  When he placed moist lips upon hers, desire surged deep in her belly. Sam opened to him. She pulled him closer and urged him forward. She wanted this to count, to mean something. She wanted him to know how deeply she cared, how acutely she felt his pain and how intensely she wanted it gone...

  If only for an evening.

  Vic parted her lips and slid his tongue inside. She welcomed his delicate probe as it dipped and swiped, seeking, wanting. Intimate. The hand behind her head brought her to him and his movements grew urgent, hungry. Sam felt him grow hard against her thigh.

  He abandoned her mouth with a sweep down her neck, nibbling, biting, as though taking in everything he could along the way.

  It was something she wanted, to give him her everything. She wanted to feel him, to hold him... She wanted to take him inside her, infuse her body with his until he was blinded to everything in life but pleasure. It was a level of need that overwhelmed her. She wanted to give in the purest way she knew how by asking nothing in return. “What can I do, Vic?” she murmured. She would do anything. Anything he asked.

  Vic let go of her neck and drew her jaw to him. His eyes were hot with intention, yet he said not a word. He only kissed her. In and out his tongue moved, growing more fierce, more demanding as she met him with a few swaths of her own.

  Tugging at her shirt, she felt his hot breath against her cheek as his movements became rough, almost desperate as he pulled the sleeve from her shoulder.

  Her nipples tightened until his mouth covered her breast, melting her thoughts in a swirl of emotion and wondrous sensation. Sam dropped her head back and relished the slick wetness of his tongue riding over the throbbing peak. He sucked and kneaded and she rose to meet him, her body aching for more. More of Vic, more of his mouth on her hot bare skin.

  Vic yanked the flimsy cotton tank clear down to her waist. Sam shifted into high gear. She pulled him to her, urging him to take it all. Tonight was for them. No memories, no pain.

  Only pleasure. “More, Vic. I need more,” she begged but he pulled away and slid off the bed. She turned her head and watched as he undressed. Quick and sure, he then did the same to her, save for her small black satin panties. He left those in place.

  Exposed and wanting, she craved his touch, his lips.

  Vic came back to the bed, lust coursing through his gaze, erasing all signs of grief. She met him at the edge of the bed and he tipped her chin up and kissed her once more. Soft and delicate, the feather touch of his lips was so unexpected, a series of mini-eruptions soaked her panties through. She rose to meet him chest-to-chest and caressed the length of him, indulging in his sheer masculinity.

  “I like it when you touch me.”

  Sam smiled and brushed her nose against the wall of his pecs. “Me, too,” she hummed into his chest, contin-uing to stroke him with light pressure, her hand slipping her hand between his thighs, his tangle of hair.

  He groaned and peered down at her. “You can’t do that anymore.”

  “No? But I like it,” she said, enjoying the feel of his most vulnerable of places.

  “No,” he replied and flipped her over in one fluid motion.

  Whoa. Caught by surprise as he brought her hips to his and pressed the soft-skinned rock of his erection against her. Perched on all fours, the connection ignited another explosion of hot want, but when he pushed aside her thong and massaged the engorged nub, Sam lost herself in decadent sensation, as if she were dissolving, creaming beneath his fingertips. Then he withdrew his hand, traced his wet finger down the center of her back, around her bare rear then entered her quick and smooth.

  Sam moaned. The stark contrast of rock hard and soft heat derailed her thoughts as he penetrated her to his full length, the immense pressure reaching deep inside her. With her rear in his hands, Vic began a gentle to and fro, toying with the strings of her underwear, toying and tugging as he gradually increased his speed. She wanted to touch him, to kiss him but with the fullness inside her, the growing pleasure spreading through her body, she was helpless to move.

  Then she gasped, caught off guard by the sharp jab as he drove far inside her curling her toes in pleasure. Like a man possessed he pumped—harder, faster, physical need seeming to take full control.

  Sam balled her sheets into her fists and held on tight as thrust after thrust thrashed her body. But even as he pounded with all his might, she wanted more. She wanted him to dive deeper, stronger, and bring them together as close as they possibly could be. With one final push, Vic called out like an animal and thrust himself inside. Sam absorbed the full impact and exploded in climax with him, spasms of pleasure thundering to the ends of her limbs and back as the orgasm rumbled through her entire body in mind numbing release.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Vic rode the crest of his orgasm as it ricocheted through his body, then dropped his head forward. A droplet of sweat fell onto Sam’s backside and a smile slipped onto his lips. Blanket clenched in her hands, Sam’s hips continued to move.

  From day one, he learned her orgasms outnumbered his, so he maintained position and allowed her to finish. It was the least he could give her. After he revealed his history she could have thrown him out for his deception, but she didn’t. She accepted him. Better, she still wanted him. And it was incredible. To have a woman as remarkable and powerful as Sam want him—as much as he wanted her...<
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  It was a feeling unmatched. Far superior to any he’d ever known. Vic had never wanted a woman as much as he wanted Sam. Never connected with them like he did with her, never looked forward to being with them so much. From the boardroom to the bedroom, he felt completely in tune with her and today, when she asked about Anna...

  He had feared their partnership was over. But it wasn’t. Far from it. Now, there remained nothing be-tween them.

  Sam’s body fell limp beneath him. He pulled out and she dropped to the bed, rolling onto her back. Outside, a timer popped the patio light on and he grinned. Talk about timing, he mused. No longer a visual in his mind, he could see her glistening skin, the curves of her body and the soft fall of her breasts.

  Vic settled alongside her, brushed the clump of hair from her brow and breathed in the sight of her. Beautiful. There were no other words to describe her. Long, lean, wild and crazy, she was perfection in motion, a model of still life.

  He wiped the damp smudge of makeup from one of her cheeks, then the other. Totally relaxed, he thought her expression embodied youth. She may be nearing forty, but this woman was in shape and hot—definitely outperformed any twenty-something he knew. On all counts!

  Vic traced her brow with his finger, enjoying her lazy, indulgent smile as it emerged. “God, you’re good.”

  He chuckled and tapped her lips. “You’re better.”

  Sam rolled her head to face him. “I don’t think I can move.”

  He laughed. “Good. Because I plan to keep you right where you are and ravage the hell out of you.”

  She smiled and fastened her large brown eyes onto his. “You’re too good to me.” But as she said it, Vic detected something more. Hidden behind their banter he sensed something deeper, more serious. He skimmed the back of his hand across her cheek and searched her gaze.

  Excitement stirred. Sweet, fragile, almost shy in its reluctance, it was completely out of character for her, like she was entering un-chartered territory. “Sam,” he whispered. “I want to make love to you.” He outlined her lips with his fingertip. “Again.”