Morgan rolled on top of him and smiled down into his face with a loving gaze, noticing how his eyes were almost black and how the gold flecks gleamed with fire. He was obviously still feeling the effects of their passion, just as she was. Nevertheless, she felt him zip up the back of her dress. “Oh yeah? Well, you’re not so bad yourself, Jason Falco.”
Jason laughed, a roaring, joyous sound and, holding her close, began to roll them down to the sea. Like two children, they tumbled over and over, right into the water. And there in the surf of the Caribbean, the water vividly blue and translucently pure, they kissed, awash with their newfound love for one another.
Afterwards, untroubled by their sopping-wet clothes, Morgan and Jason frolicked the afternoon away, running along the beach, playing in the surf, discovering treasures discarded by the sea and, most important, sharing their unbridled happiness with only each other and, perhaps, the gulls that wheeled above them in the crystalline, afternoon sky.
Much later, feeling tired but content, they climbed in the car and started back to the Frontenac Plantation. Jason reached over and pulled Morgan closer to him. “So, you were going to tell me about someone named Sammy?”
“Sami, spelled S-a-m-i. Her full name Is Samuelina Adkinson.”
“Her father obviously had made up his mind she was going to be a boy.” Jason grinned. “And when she wasn’t, he just added the ‘i-n-a’.”
“That’s right. And Sami hasn’t done one predictable thing since.”
“How do you know her?”
“Sami and I grew up together, having both been shunted off to boarding school at an early age. My parents sent me ‘to make a better person out of me,’ and Sami’s parents sent her to get her out of their hair.”
“I find it rather hard to believe that people could actually do that to their children.” Jason frowned.
“Believe it. We were both raised by strangers, but Sami got an even worse deal than I did. Everything my parents did, they did in the name of love—convoluted though it was—but Sami’s parents didn’t even pretend to be interested in her. From the time she was around three or four, her governess used to lock her in a dark, three by five closet when she ‘misbehaved,’ and to this day, she’s afraid of the darkness and small places.”
“I guess I never realized how lucky I was to be raised by two people who really cared about me,” he said solemnly. “How did you manage?”
“It’s a wonder we turned out as well as we did, but Sami and I had each other and we’ve always stuck together. When I decided to leave Boston, there was no question but that she would come with me.”
“I don’t suppose her parents objected.”
“They were dead by that time, and Sami had complete control of her own money. She’s extremely wealthy.”
“She sounds interesting.”
“She is. Sami’s a very special person, whom I love very much. Just because she happens to live in a slightly different manner from most people, doesn’t take away from the fact that she’s extremely smart and talented. Plus, she’s gorgeous. She has honey-colored hair that reaches more than halfway down her back and big, beautiful golden eyes. She’s also my landlady.”
“Landlady! You mean she bought an apartment building?”
Morgan laughed. “Sami never does the ordinary. She bought a cavernous old warehouse over in the Lower Town District of St. Paul. My shop takes up about half of the first floor, with the other half being storage. The top floor contains our two apartments, plus a studio/workshop for Sami. My apartment is divided into rooms, but Sami has one huge room, because she doesn’t like to feel closed in.”
“You two live alone, in a warehouse?”
“Well, not exactly. There’s Jerome.”
“Jerome!”
Morgan’s mirth bubbled over once again at Jason’s astonishment. “Sami has a heart as big as all outdoors and she hates to be alone. Consequently, she’s always bringing the strangest people home. But as it has turned out, Jerome was a real discovery. She found him selling stuffed birds at a flea market about three years ago when he was eighteen. Feeling sorry for him because there were no customers at his booth, she wandered over, bought out his entire stock of garishly painted, stuffed birds and brought both him and the birds home.
“We’ve made a small apartment for him in back of the storeroom. He helps out in my store part-time and goes to college. The whole arrangement has worked out very nicely. He’s sort of our mascot and he helps me keep Sami out of trouble.”
There was a brief silence and then Jason said, “I’ve got just one question: What happened to the stuffed birds?”
“Oh, well, Sami was ‘into’ welding about that time, and she welded a huge birdcage that stands about twelve or thirteen feet high. She put all the birds into it, in various poses and attitudes. When she’s in the mood, she puts on a recording of birds chirping and changes their water.”
“Don’t people think that’s a little strange?”
“Some do,” Morgan admitted, “but Sami just tells them that stuffed birds are the only kind of birds she could ever bear to put into a cage.”
Jason thought for a moment and then declared, “I’m going to like Sami!”
And Morgan, sitting quietly beside him, felt that her heart would surely burst with happiness.
#
The days continued just as golden as the ones that had come before, with Jason and Morgan continuing to explore the island and, in the process, learning more about each other. It was as if they knew there was no hurry—they had forever, and when they finally made love, it would be all the sweeter for their having waited until it was absolutely right.
One day they drove into Fort-de-France, enjoying the cosmopolitan bustle around them and the touch of New Orleans in the iron grillwork on the buildings. Taking full advantage of the duty-free stores lining the rues Victor Hugo and Schoelcher, each purchased a gift for the other. Jason picked out a Hermes scarf with whorls in celadon for Morgan, and she bought him a handsome Dior necktie.
As they walked out of one shop, Jason slipped another small package into her hand.
“What’s this?”
“Open it and find out,” Jason instructed laconically.
Morgan needed no further inducement before tearing into the package. It was a purse-sized spray container of Joy. “I love this stuff, but I’ve never bought any. They advertise it as the most expensive perfume in the world!”
“I don’t know about that, but I’ve heard it’s the most romantic, and since that’s how you make me feel, I wanted you to have some.”
Not bothering with the fact that they were standing in the middle of the sidewalk of a busy street, Morgan threw her arms around Jason and kissed him.
“Oh, Jason,” she breathed. “You’re an incredible man.”
Later, they lunched in a charming sidewalk cafe, gorging themselves on Creole cuisine and rum punch, a subtle combination of rum, sugar syrup and lime, and then strolled through La Savane, a spacious, richly landscaped square of a park near the waterfront, admiring the white marble statue of the Empress Josephine, gazing across the bay to Les Trois Ilets, her birthplace.
The sights of Martinique were engrossing, it was true, but nothing could equal the fascination Morgan and Jason had with each other. Daily, their desire grew. The sexual excitement that ran between them had been strong from the first, but as they learned more about each other, the vibrations became even more powerful. Each touch, each look, only magnified what they both realized: they wanted each other and neither one of them would be able to wait much longer.
And Morgan had the utmost faith that when it finally did happen, their coming together would be the most beautiful experience of her life. She knew it, because she knew Jason and, as much as she loved him, it simply couldn’t be any other way.
The next couple of days, they stayed at the Inn, enjoying the privacy of the secluded beach and the fun of trying out Serge’s snorkeling equipment, discovering the wonderla
nd that lay under the water.
One morning over coffee and some of Yvonne’s delicious coconut bread, they listened to Roger talk about his plantation. “We are relatively small, compared with some of the larger plantations. Oh, not so much in land. We have more than enough.” He waved a sweeping hand toward the mountains behind them. “It is just that the land has not been put to use in so many years.
“But we do not want for anything. As you have no doubt noticed, there are several large banana groves and we even maintain a small sugar cane field. There is always fish, of course, and there are numerous citrus trees about, plus mangoes and some pineapple. What we do not use for our guests’ needs, we sell.” He beamed, as he saw Serge walking toward them, obviously very proud of his son. “And now that Serge is back from England, we will do even better.”
Serge stopped at the table. “Good morning, Morgan, Jason. I was wondering if you would like to try out my new pedal boat this afternoon. Actually, it is an old one that I have only recently renewed.”
“That sounds great,” Jason enthused and turned to Morgan. “What do you think?”
“It sounds like work, … but fun, I suppose.” She looked at Roger and Serge. ‘This man is bound and determined to change my idea of vacationing.”
“Are you complaining?” Jason questioned teasingly.
Looking into his brown eyes, she saw that the golden flecks were warm and tender. “Not at all,” she answered softly, entirely missing the way Roger and Serge smiled at each other knowingly.
#
Once beyond the breakers, it turned out to be surprisingly easy.
“Piece of cake.” Morgan snapped her fingers airily.
“Easy for you to say,” Jason grumbled good-naturedly. “I’m doing all the pedaling.”
With their feet on the pedals, they were sitting side by side on a towel which they had spread along the fairly wide seat. Morgan was wearing a maillot that wrapped diagonally, forming a flattering, low V-neck, and was painted with a rainbow of pinks and lavenders. It matched the skirt which she usually wrapped around her waist and tied at the side, sarong style.
Jason’s dark copper brown swimming trunks nearly matched the color of his skin. He had left the coordinating jacket on the seat beside him, along with Morgan’s skirt. Picking up one of her legs and resting it across his knee, he observed, “We’ve both gotten a lot darker since we’ve been here. You’ve turned a light gold, but I’m afraid you’ve got a way to go yet before you get as brown as I am.”
“You want me to get more of a tan?” Morgan inquired with pretended irritation. “You don’t like me the way I am?”
Jason ran his hand casually up her leg to the inside of her thigh, causing Morgan’s heartbeat to accelerate frantically. “I think you’ll do.” The golden lights in his eyes danced.
Morgan hit out at him with a clenched fist. “I’ll do, will I?”
Jason caught her hand easily and pulled her closer, still holding her leg across his. “Lady, if you get any better, I’ll have to lock you up, and you know it.”
Morgan laughed with pure delight, safe in the knowledge that she affected him just as much as he did her. “I refuse to be locked up alone, Mr. Falco.”
“Is that right?” he asked with interest and leaned forward, meeting her lips with his tongue, running the tip of it across the soft surface teasingly.
His hand had begun to draw tiny designs up the tender inside of her thigh and a warmth kindled everywhere he was touching, spreading upward, matching the progress of his hand. Her open mouth fastened hungrily onto his, drinking in the delectable feast.
They had pedaled far enough out past the breakers that they didn’t have to worry about being swept into shore. While they had been talking, Jason had turned the boat around so that they were drifting parallel to the beach, but far enough away so that they couldn’t be seen with any clarity.
Without releasing her mouth, Jason lifted her leg and picked Morgan up, placing her across his lap so that she was straddling his body and facing him. The sensation of having her legs spread open, directly over his obviously swelling masculinity, sent a hot shaft of unadulterated desire straight through her and Morgan melted against him.
Her arms slid around his neck, as she felt him pull her breasts free of her bathing suit and chafe them against his chest, the coarse chest hair creating an exquisite friction along the tips of her breasts. “Jason!” she moaned helplessly.
He didn’t answer. Instead he stabbed his tongue deep into her mouth and pulled her higher and harder against him, leaving himself room to work his fingers up into the elastic leg of her bathing suit where it had been stretched against the apex of her thigh.
The pedal boat drifted without any help, rocking Jason and Morgan gently in the cradle of the Caribbean. The flawless day sent ribbons of sunlight raying over their bodies. But neither of them noticed.
Their simple teasing had, without any real warning or effort, evolved into intensely passionate lovemaking. With Jason’s fingers moving inside her, and his mouth lowering onto one distended nipple, Morgan slipped from a world made up of sun and surf, wind and sand, into another where nothing existed but hot-blooded feelings, ecstatic sensations, and an unearthly sensuality.
The sweat of their bodies mingled, making rivulets of perspiration flow down Morgan’s breasts for Jason to lick off, each stroke of his tongue causing her to shudder against him. With his free hand around her buttocks, he undulated Morgan over him, causing unbearable bolts of white-hot heat to eat into her.
“Jason! Stop … No! Don’t stop … don’t… .”
“Do you want me to stop?” Jason groaned harshly against her neck. “Do you, Morgan? I can make it so good for you, if you’ll only let me.”
“Yes!” Morgan gasped. “Oh, Jason, for God’s sake, no … stop … stop … before I lose my mind.”
Very gently, he removed his fingers from her pulsating body, and almost tenderly, he pulled the two pieces of her bathing suit across her enlarged breasts. “I’m sorry, honey. Things got out of control before I knew what was happening. It’s been hard this past week, wanting you as I do, to hold back.”
“I know,” Morgan murmured.
Their passion burned down, subsiding gradually and they pedaled back to shore. But they were both very much aware that the fire they shared had only been banked and that the embers were still glowing brightly.
#
That night, Morgan took special pains with her appearance. She had brought along an extra-terrific dress, one guaranteed to do wonderful things for her ego, and after a long, soaking bath, she slipped it on.
Diagonal stripes of amber, butterscotch and gold threaded through the silk chiffon of the knee-length frock and made Morgan feel as truly beautiful as she looked. With her hair brushed to a fine gilt and lying around her sun-tinted shoulders like a veil of gold, she pondered on the evening ahead with Jason. Their parting had been strangely stiff, and she didn’t think she could bear it if their next meeting followed suit.
The fact of the matter was that, earlier in the day, while riding the shimmering swells of the Caribbean, they had passed a watershed in their relationship. Impossible to go back now, they could only go forward.
Morgan had known this time would come, so why did she have this curiously hesitant feeling about meeting Jason tonight? After all, he was the man she loved—frankly, fully, and with all of love’s inherent implications.
Hearing a light tap at her door, she went to answer it. Jason, standing on her veranda, half-shadowed by the moon’s silver light, white-jacketed and extremely handsome, made Morgan’s heart somersault with longing. All her doubts fled. He was her love.
He held out his arms—a simple gesture, really, and one which could have a hundred meanings. But Morgan didn’t need to think about it—she walked straight into them and it was the start of a night filled with perfection.
They dined at the manor house where the lights had been discreetly and intimately lowered. Candl
es twinkled flutteringly on every table and the sweet scent of frangipani wafted in with the night air. A local group was playing modern love songs out on the terrace, and the insistent rhythm of steel drums underlay each tune, managing to instill the songs with the primitive beat of the surrounding jungle and making the night throb with a torrid undercurrent.
Morgan wasn’t sure what she ate or drank. Her awareness was concentrated solely on Jason. His eyes had turned black, shooting flames of gold across the small table and into her soul, and when he stood up and offered her his hand, she took it. Out on the terrace, she went into his arms once more, this time to dance in the rawly electric atmosphere of the tropical night.
Their bodies were communicating without either of them speaking. They moved together in an instinctive way—a way of sharing, without words, the thousand and one things they wanted to say to each other. And Morgan heard what his body was saying.
Everywhere he was touching her had suddenly become a focal point of sensitivity. Her breasts were resting against his chest and even through their clothes, a warm languorous heat was winding, starting from her nipples, continuing into her breasts and spreading inwardly right on through her body.
Jason’s arm was placed low on her back, clasping her tightly, pressing her pelvis into his, and making a new and separate weakness advance slowly down into her lower limbs. His other hand was holding hers, and even there, heat was radiating up her arm, expanding to different parts of her, parts she hadn’t been aware of before tonight.
Then he took the hand he had been holding and placed it around his neck, his hand joining the one on her hips, unobtrusively caressing her softly rounded bottom. The pads of her fingers where they touched his neck burned and they stroked up the strong column, to behind his ear, lingering in the small hollow they found there. In response, Jason pulled her even tighter against the hardened arch of his thighs, and Morgan felt her body ignite into a raging fire.
Overhead, the moon was spinning webs of silver and the night cast out threads of magic, weaving them in and around the two of them, entangling them in its net of desire. Morgan raised her head and looked at Jason. Her vision blurred, her throat clogged, she whispered, “If you don’t make love to me soon, I think I may die.”
The Seduction of Jason Page 4
