Fever Dreams

by Laura Resnick

  His body was beautiful. Long and strong and leanly muscled, he was nicely tanned everywhere except his loins. His chest was lightly covered with golden brown hair, but the hair between his legs was dark and thick. His erection commanded respect. Madeleine stopped breathing for a moment as she stared.

  “A garter belt,” he muttered, his gaze sweeping hungrily over her body. She still wore her lacy bra, brief panties, silk garter belt, and sheer stockings. He dropped to his knees and wrapped his arms around her, pressing his face into her belly. “I knew you would wear a garter belt,” he said gratefully.

  She closed her eyes and threw her head back, sagging at the knees when he nibbled hungrily on her abdomen. He licked his way across her stomach, massaging the backs of her thighs at the same time. Impatient with her own clothing, she unfastened her bra, tossed it aside, then slid to her knees. Chest to chest, they kissed ravenously as he pressed her down into the threadbare rug on the floor. She felt him yank her panties down her legs, then she obligingly kicked them aside, all the while returning his soul-destroying kiss. His wiry chest hairs tickled her nipples and made them tingle. She scraped her nails across his small, male nipples, then soothed them with her fingertips.

  He slid a hand between her thighs, forcing them apart. She yielded willingly, sighing as she felt the inquisitive caress of his fingers. He propped himself up on an elbow and watched her face as he delved inside her.

  Their gazes locked in the dim, flashing light of the darkened room. She gasped as she felt his thumb move over the exquisitely sensitive nub he had found while his fingers continued to probe. She stiffened against the shock waves his touch sent through her.

  “Easy,” he murmured. “Easy. Relax.” His lips brushed hers.

  She tried to speak, but the words caught in her throat when he lowered his head to her breast and licked an aching peak with long, lazy strokes. Her hands balled into fists at her sides. Her hips started moving in response to his coaxing hand, even as she tried to hold still. She suddenly felt too raw, too close to implosion. The rasp of his tongue against her turgid nipple made her tremble with feelings her body couldn't seem to contain any longer.

  She flung a hand over her eyes, licked her lips, and arched her back. This was torture, sheer agony. And she'd die if he stopped. His intimate caresses grew harder and faster, and she found herself moaning and moving against his hand uninhibitedly. When he drew her nipple into his mouth and sucked strongly on it, she went up in flames. Heat rippled through her again and again, and she arched and writhed and sobbed in response, lost in the searing pleasure he offered her.

  She was dazed and panting when she finally became aware of the hard floor beneath her back and the sluggish breeze created by the overhead fan. His hand rested on her stomach, and she felt his breath on her face. She opened her eyes and met his glittering gaze. His face was sheened with sweat, and his golden brown hair was tousled from the touch of her hands.

  He smiled at her, sharing a secret, sharing her pleasure, and she smiled back without embarrassment. She never would have thought it possible to feel so comfortable with anyone, let alone a perfect stranger.

  They didn't speak. They didn't need to. She felt the steely hardness of his desire against her hip, felt the urgency of his need as his hand roved freely over her body. Their gazes remained locked for a moment before he whispered, “I'd better get the condoms.”

  She nodded. Her stomach clenched with renewed desire. “I want you between my legs,” she whispered. She had never said anything quite so descriptive before. “I want you ... plunging inside me.”

  His mouth was hard against hers, his tongue restless and insistent. Somehow, without breaking their kiss, he pulled her off the floor and deposited her on the bed. She pulled off her stockings and garter belt while he disappeared into the bathroom. She didn't have time to think about anything before he was with her again, pressing her into the mattress with his weight, inflaming her with the hunger of his kiss. He put the condom on hastily, and she spread her legs readily for him.

  “Not too wide,” he whispered against her mouth as he settled himself between her thighs. He ran one hand along her smooth leg, making her bend her knee. “Just like...” He drew in a sharp breath as her fingers closed around his engorged penis. He swallowed and started breathing much faster. “Yes,” he rasped.

  His first thrust was gentle, and he paused for a moment to let her adjust to him. Then, bracing his weight on trembling arms, he arched his back and filled her with his flesh, thrusting long, deep, and hard. He looked down at her as she tilted her hips and braced her hands on his muscular buttocks. There was an exultation in his expression that made her feel like a captive love slave. The fierceness in his gaze promised he would not let her off lightly now that he had her beneath him.

  “It'll be a rough ride,” he said hoarsely.

  “Yes,” she whispered. “Yes, whatever you want. Do it.”

  “What's your name?” he demanded, thrusting hard.

  “What?”

  “Tell me your name.” He plunged into her.

  “No.” Her hips rose to meet him.

  “Your name.” Harder.

  “Oh!” Her hands slid up to the small of his back.

  “Tell me,” he urged, lowering his head to kiss her briefly.

  “Not ... ohhh ... not now.”

  “I'll stop,” he warned, withdrawing for another thrust.

  “No you won't,” she said fiercely, locking her legs around his hips and heaving against him.

  He groaned and struggled against her for a moment, then gave up and thrust into her again and again, his movements fast, rough, almost violent. She wrapped her arms around his back and held him to her, unleashing her own wildness, sinking her teeth into his shoulder and digging her nails into his flesh.

  Their sweatslick bodies writhed together in the eternal mating dance, taking and giving without restraint, adversaries and partners in this primitive struggle to both conquer and surrender at once. They plunged headlong into the storm together, clinging mindlessly to each other as the bed rattled wildly, the headboard thudded against the hollow wall, and their moans of satisfaction echoed around the room.

  * * * *

  Ransom lit a cigarette and inhaled deeply. He'd already smoked his limit for the day, but he could never resist a cigarette after some really good sex.

  Not good. Great. Better than great.

  He looked down at his sleeping companion. She was the best. But he knew enough about women to know it wasn't the sort of thing you said to one. Especially not on such short acquaintance.

  No, women liked flowery adjectives and romantic superlatives; they didn't ever like to think they were being compared to others, nor did they like to be reminded of a man's previous experience. But then, he supposed the exact same thing could be said about men.

  Still, after what he and this woman had just shared, he'd like to be honest about it. Hell, what had just happened between the two of them was about the most honest thing he'd ever experienced. Once she had shed her nervous tension ... God! She had been fearless. And demanding and giving and shameless and hotter than hell. Who was she?

  He'd have asked her again, but she'd fallen asleep almost immediately afterward, and he didn't have the heart to wake her. Yet. He would eventually, and she'd need all her strength for what he had in mind.

  Her flaxen blond hair was spread out across the pillow, gleaming like cornsilk, like spun silver and gold in the pale, flashing light of his room. Her skin looked as beautiful as it felt, and her back moved slightly with every soft breath. She slept on her stomach, her face turned toward him and her hand enfolded in his.

  Careful not to disturb her, he brushed a few strands of hair away from her face and studied her. She was a few years younger than he, but not many. Her features were so peaceful, pure, and perfect in repose, it was hard to believe she had sweated, panted, clenched her teeth, and begged for more only an hour ago. But she had, and so had he; and just the m
emory of it made him start growing hard again. When he'd spotted her in the Bar Tigre, even when he'd held her in his arms for the first time, he had never guessed it would be like this between them. How could he? His experience with women was not inconsiderable, but there had never been anything like this, never been anyone like her. He hadn't known what was waiting for him. For them.

  He wondered if she had known, if she had guessed. What had made an elegant woman like this overcome her nerves, her common sense, and her unmistakable reservations about tonight? What had made her accompany a total stranger to his room and open herself up to him like this? A crisis point in her life? A tragedy? Boredom or loneliness? Or had she known that something special would bind them together in this hot, shadowed bedroom?

  He stroked her hair as she slept innocently beside him. “Could it have been just anyone,” he whispered, “or did it have to be me?”

  He knew what he wanted her answer to be, even if it was crazy and wildly improbable. He didn't want to think this woman who had taken him to the moon tonight would have come to this room with anyone but him. He stubbed out his cigarette, suddenly impatient for her to wake up. He wanted her company.

  “Hey,” he murmured, sliding down in the sheets so that they were face to face on her pillow. “Hey.” He slid his hand across her back.

  “Hmmm?” She blinked and then opened dreamy eyes of royal blue, fringed by thick golden lashes. Her face flushed the moment their gazes locked.

  “So are you gonna tell me now?” he asked lazily, noticing a hundred little things about her face, her hair, the way she woke up.

  “Tell you what?” Her voice was deeper, more relaxed than it had been in the bar. She sounded content. Had he given her that?

  “Your name.” He slipped his hand under the sheet and caressed the soft cheeks of her smooth, firm bottom. The sound of her sigh rippled through him.

  She smiled sleepily. “In the morning,” she promised. “Rub my back again. When you did that in the bar, it was heaven.”

  “What we did in this bed was heaven.”

  “Yes. It was.” She closed her eyes and practically purred when he began massaging between her shoulders. “Ohhh, that's wonderful.”

  “I don't get it. Why the mystery?”

  She hesitated, then a tiny smile curved those lush, pink lips, which were still slightly swollen from his kisses. “It's your reward,” she said, “if you're still here in the morning.”

  “It's my room,” he pointed out dryly.

  “I like the anonymity, all right? It's been a sordid fantasy of mine for years. Indulge me.”

  He couldn't help grinning at that. “All right. But tomorrow, I want to see your passport, your driver's license, and your credit cards.” For some reason, that sent her into peals of laughter. He didn't get it, but he was glad he had made her laugh. She had looked so damn serious when he'd first seen her.

  “I like the way you sound when you laugh.” He massaged the small of her back and whispered, “And I love the way you sound when you come.”

  He felt her stiffen. She closed her eyes. “Do you? Really?”

  “Yeah, I do. Really.”

  She relaxed a little. “I...”

  “What?” he prodded. Her shyness made him feel protective. He kissed her hair. “Tell me.”

  “I'm not usually so, uh, vocal.”

  He rubbed his cheek against her smooth, pale shoulder. “I'm glad you were tonight, then. With me.”

  “And I...” She licked her lips.

  “Go on,” he urged softly, stroking his hand up and down her back. He wanted her again, but this time he wanted it to be slow and sultry.

  “I like the sounds you make, too,” she said in a quick, quiet rush. “You sound wild and ... and ... like you really enjoy...”

  “Enjoy? Now there's an understatement,” he teased. “I was out of my mind. I wouldn't have noticed if a bulldozer had come through the wall.”

  “It's not usually like that,” she said pensively.

  “No,” he agreed. “Not like that.” It had been unique.

  She responded to the subtle pressure of his hand and rolled over onto her back. Her body was beautiful, and he couldn't help paying homage to it. He felt her deep, shaky sigh when he lowered his head to taste the satiny skin of her breasts. Her fingers twined in his hair as he moved further down to kiss her stomach.

  “What are you doing?” she whispered a few moments later, closing her thighs against him.

  “What do you think?” he murmured, pushing her legs apart.

  Their gazes locked, and he smiled knowingly. She looked more aroused than uncertain. She couldn't hold back any more than he could; this thing between them had more strength than either of them. “Do you really want to?” she asked doubtfully.

  “Oh, honey, just try and stop me,” he said, and planted his first, soft kiss between her thighs. She quivered, then sighed and gave in to the passion that flowed so naturally between them.

  * * * *

  The brash light of day crept across Ransom's bed and peered into his face. He was usually a light sleeper, but bone-deep exhaustion and soul-deep satiation had sunk him into a heavy, dreamless slumber. He ignored the sun on his face and the heat of the room and lay there, enjoying the well-being that flowed through his body. He felt good. He couldn't remember ever feeling so good. He also felt like he'd never be able to walk again. She had worn him out, drained him dry, and pushed him to the edge of collapse.

  But I won't hold it against her. Eyes closed, he smiled. The smile turned into a grin.

  In the breathless, trembling afterglow of their second time, they'd realized how stiflingly hot the room was. He'd gone over to the window to open it wider, though he doubted the humid night air of Montedora City would really help matters much. He started to say so, but he never managed to get more than the first few words out of his mouth. She had risen from the bed, still flushed and gleaming, her sun-colored hair tumbling messily around her shoulders, her eyes glowing with womanly promises. She had crossed the floor, kissed his mouth, his chest, his belly, his thighs...

  Ransom sighed and felt his body tighten. Christ, he couldn't seriously be thinking about doing this again, could he?

  Her mouth, her hands, her whispers, the look on her face...

  He swallowed. Well ... maybe just once more. And then they'd sleep some more. And then...

  “I'll have to be hospitalized,” he muttered, rolling toward her to see if she was up to being wished a very enthusiastic good morning.

  She wasn't there.

  He opened his eyes and looked. Yes, he was definitely alone in the tumbled, twisted sheets. A quick glance around the room didn't discover her. He started to call her name, then realized he didn't know it. Cursing, he vaulted out of bed. She wasn't in the bathroom, either, and her purse, briefcase, shoes, and dress were gone.

  He hadn't imagined her, though. Her stockings and garter belt still lay on the floor at the foot of the bed, half-hidden by a pillow they'd sent flying in the middle of the night. She must have given up looking for her stockings and slipped out of the room before he woke up. He glanced at his watch. Eleven o'clock! Dammit! She could have left hours ago.

  Accustomed to acting quickly and using his head in any type of situation, he washed his face, threw on his clothes, tossed his belongings carelessly into his suitcase, and called down to the front desk to ask if anyone had seen a woman of her description. Realizing that no one on the hotel's staff cared about his love life, he claimed that the woman had to be located because she had stolen his wallet. He hoped she'd forgive him for that story if she was found, but he was quickly getting too angry to really care.

  What the hell did she intend, running off like that? Was he supposed to not mind getting laid and then deserted just because he was a guy? Or had she run out on him because she was nervous about waking up with him? Could she be stupid enough to think that they'd have an awkward morning-after, considering how great they'd been together all night
long? Or had she managed to make him feel like a mushy, lovesick kid while she was only using him to get through a dull night in Montedora City?

  “Using me ... Shit!” Realizing he might have actually been telling the truth, he checked his wallet. To his relief, everything was there. Whatever her motive, at least it hadn't been petty theft. He would have felt like a real chump.

  The scent of her hair and the smell of their passion lingered in the room. Wondering what the hell was going on, he permitted himself the sappy luxury of picking up her pillow and burying his face in it. He'd never even learned her name.

  The shrill ring of the bedside phone startled him. Adrenaline flooded his system. They'd found her! He dived across the bed and picked up the receiver. “Yes?”

  “Senor Ransom. Your driver is asking for you. He has been waiting for over an hour.”

  Miguel and one of the President's cars. He'd forgotten all about it. “Tell him to keep waiting,” Ransom said tersely. “I'll be down in a few minutes to find out about this woman.”

  “But senor, there is no woman—”

  “Keep looking.” He hung up and headed out the door.

  Ransom knew how to question people, and he knew how to track down someone who didn't want to be found. But the woman had virtually vanished into thin air. Even though she had told him she didn't have a hotel room, he nonetheless made the sullen desk clerk review his records and look for a woman staying alone in the Hotel Tigre last night. There were only two, and neither was the woman he sought. No one had seen her come into the hotel with him, and no one had seen her leave. He wasn't even sure when she had left; sometime after four o'clock in the morning, since that's when he had fallen asleep.

  When he questioned the bartender in the Bar Tigre, the man remembered the woman well. But it was the first and only time he had ever seen her, and he knew nothing more. There were only a couple of other hotels in Montedora City where a well-dressed woman could possibly stay without jeopardizing her safety. Ransom tried them both, to no avail.