Thigh High

by Edwards, Bonnie

  “Maybe I am crazy, but I love your voice.” She bit her lip. She rolled, and the warm scent of her from beneath the sheet rose to him. “What would you say if I told you I get turned on by listening to you?”

  “I’d say tell me more.” This was a new one on him. Most women wouldn’t stay up late enough to listen.

  “The way you talk makes me wet.”

  His interest spiked. He reached for her, then ran his palm along her flat belly and into her wet heat. She opened her legs so he could flutter his fingers against her lips.

  “I hear that crooning quality you use when it’s deeply dark outside. You’re with me here”—she pumped her hips toward his questing fingers—“your voice strokes through me, deep into me. Yes! Like that. It rumbles around the room and I touch myself.”

  “Like this?” He rubbed at her clit with delicate swirls, the tips of two fingers barely inside. To tantalize her before a deep hard plunge, he wiggled them.

  “Oh, Daniel! Yes! Just like that,” she murmured, and widened her legs even more. He pushed the two fingers into her, feeling her inner channel grasp and hold and need. His thumb rolled over her plump clit again and again. “Ahh. I cream and come just on the sound of your voice. So hot, so cool. I love how you talk about the music and what it means to you.”

  He thought back over the show. Couldn’t recall a damn thing in it that would cause this reaction. He’d talked about a thirties blues king that had died too young. The only recordings left were scratchy, almost too tinny for airing, but he figured if he let them go they’d be lost forever. He set his mouth to her neck and gently sucked some of the delicate flesh between his lips. Her blood rushed in a drumroll of heightened awareness.

  “I think of your wicked tongue,” she said, with an arch into his hand, “and your wild lips, and I can hardly wait for you to come home to me.”

  Heaven. This was heaven, and he’d found it with her. He shifted between her legs, then slid both palms under her ass and tilted her up to his mouth. Diving in, he stroked his tongue from her clit to her slit and deep inside. She crooned and thrashed around him, but he didn’t stop. She swelled into his mouth as he felt her crest.

  She jutted her pussy toward him, then rocked against his mouth in a raging orgasm. Clasping his head, she came in a wild gush that he lapped and held on his tongue. Exquisite juice burst on his taste buds.

  He took the condom she had tucked under her ass and slid it on. With a roar of possession, he slid in to the hilt and held her as she rocked against him.

  Quieting into a roll, he rode her to another come, then followed with a strong surge into her. He gasped her name just before he broke and shuddered against her.

  “If this is crazy, then I want more.” He pulled her close, deep into his chest. “You’re the best thing that’s happened to me. Crazy or not.”

  Her heart pounded against his as she kissed him hard. Her flavors blended in his mouth. Pussy and tongue swirled together as he tasted both.

  Her color went high at the compliment. “Thank you, but you’re only saying that because you’ve been too long without sex.” She tried to make light of his declaration, and it piqued him.

  She was more than an easy, available lay, and it was time she knew it.

  “That may be part of it. But the reality is, you get me. You understand why I do what I do, why I want what I want, even why I play the music I play.” He stilled, holding himself tight to her pussy, keeping their connection deep.

  “Everyone loves the blues.” She wriggled under him, but he held firm. “Everyone feels the blues. Everyone loses someone at some point.” Her eyes went wide, the expression so soft he could lose himself in her gaze. Lose himself gladly.

  “I guess they do.” But losing Frankie wasn’t on his agenda. He slid out of her, then went to the bathroom. He stared at his reflection, gave himself a talking to. All he had to do was show her that being with him was better than running.

  It meant a lot that she was still here. She’d had all night to run, but she hadn’t. That meant he hadn’t frightened her by saying he loved her.

  All he had to do now was convince her that a move to Chicago was right for both of them.

  When he climbed back into bed, she looked pensive.

  She rested her head on his shoulder and sighed, her breath stirring the hair on his chest. “Have you ever been in a position where a wonderful thing happens, but there’s a dark side you never considered?”

  “Like a double-edged sword?”

  “It’s like a woman has a baby and it’s ‘Great, I’m a mom.’ The other side of the coin is, ‘Great, I’m a mom.’” She drawled out the words with sarcasm. “On one hand she’s thrilled to be a mother and to start a wonderful adventure in parenting.”

  “On the other hand,” he concluded, “she’s not the young, carefree woman she was.”

  “Exactly!” She looked pleased with his observation. “Maybe deep down she’s afraid, or feels unprepared for the responsibility. No matter what good fortune brings, life always smacks a person back down.”

  “You’re right. There’s rarely a time when there’s no black cloud even if the silver lining’s the fulfillment of all your dreams.” To put the best spin on his promotion to the morning time slot, he hadn’t shared with her his disappointment at walking away from the best job he’d ever had.

  “Even the most stupendous good luck can turn your life upside down,” she went on. “Not that you’d want to give up that stupendously good—luck, you’d just have to temper your reactions.” She pursed her lips. “You’d have to be realistic.”

  She was dancing around something important, something big, but he’d have to be patient and let her come around to her own way of telling him everything. “All we can do is roll with the punches,” he said in a bland tone designed to keep her talking. “If we fall down, we’ve got to get back up.” She was going somewhere with this line of thought, he just couldn’t see where yet. Bless her, though, she was at least trying to open up.

  “Have you decided to accept the transfer?” she asked, which meant she’d moved on, away from talking about herself again.

  “Yes. I called the program director on the way home.” No point mentioning Jenna or how much he’d hate the work. With any luck at all, Jenna would move on soon, anyway.

  Frankie rose onto her elbow and looked him in the face. “You’ll like Chicago,” was all she said. She blinked a couple of times, and her eyes glistened.

  He pulled her to his mouth and kissed her, his thumbs on each cheek, ready to smear away whatever moisture might fall.

  “I need to love you, Daniel. Right now.” With that, she disappeared under the sheets to crawl to his jutting cock.

  Wet heat enveloped him in one long, slow slide, and he drifted into sexual ecstasy. Payback. He’d arrange payback as soon as he could.

  Five minutes later, he twisted so she was under him. A couple more moves and he was face deep in creamy pussy, while she pumped and licked at his cock and balls.

  Her succulent, pink clitoris peeped out of its hood and he zeroed in, sucking and licking as she squirmed against him.

  He spread her lips wide open to see her darkest pink. Spearing his tongue, he went in deep and felt her inner walls clutch and grind as he prodded. Fingers followed his tongue to keep her guessing, while he focused on her clit again.

  Juice filled her as she came.

  His orgasm screamed from his root to his skull and spewed deep into her throat. Her hot mouth took all of him as he pulsed. She grabbed his ass, held him tight to her and careened off into another powerful release seconds behind him.

  When he could breathe and speak again, he said, “I love you, Frankie; come with me.” He flopped to the bed and tucked her head against his shoulder.

  “I just did,” she crooned as her eyes opened in silky satisfaction.

  He snugged her hips close to his. “No, I mean, come with me to Chicago, Frankie. Marry me.”

  She patted his shoul
der, eyes wide, satisfaction flaring into fear. “I—can’t go to Chicago.” She turned away, and he took the hint.

  She wasn’t ready to hear his plans. Not yet. But she would be soon. She was making progress in other areas, so he expected her to come around in her own time.

  When he finished in the bathroom, he leaned on the door frame and considered her, covers up to her chin again, as she stared at the ceiling. “Frankie, this could work for us. I’m taking a day job for more money and normal hours so we can get married and build a life. I’m being practical as well as being head over heels in love with you.”

  “Yes, I see that.”

  “What that do you see?”

  She peered at him across the miles of secrets that separated them and nodded. “I see that you’re being practical by accepting the promotion. And I know you love me. In spite of my not being able to be completely open about what’s happening with me.”

  “Then what’s the problem? You’re free, I’m free. We connect on so many different levels I can hardly believe my luck in finding you.” He walked to the bed, trying hard to find a joke somewhere to ease his way into her mind, her heart. “I’m trying to find something funny to say, but I’m coming up empty. So, I’ll do this instead.” He slipped her hand out from under the sheet and placed her palm on his heart. “Feel it? It’s pounding out of my chest. Fear. Frankie, I’m afraid you’re going to disappear on me.”

  She looked at him then, eyes wide and filling. “Daniel, I can’t go to Chicago with you.”

  “Are you running from an abusive husband? Are you in the witness protection program?”

  “No, it’s nothing like that. It’s smaller in so many ways, but it’s huge too. Life changing, and I don’t want to involve you right now.”

  “But I am involved. Completely. Marry me.”

  Barkley’s growling bark rose to a racket on deck; his nails scrambled for purchase as he sounded a familiar alarm.

  “Who the hell would be here at this time of the morning?”

  Frankie didn’t respond, just grabbed his shirt she’d taken to wearing and dashed into the bathroom. She slammed the door while he slipped into his jeans and headed outside. The man with the camera Barkley had caught on the Boondoggle stood on the dock. His jaw was set in a stubborn, defiant cut. He squared his shoulders when Daniel stepped outside.

  “What do you want?” Daniel demanded. He crossed his arms over his chest and bristled.

  “I’m here to see if Francesca Volpe is a guest.” The guy already had his camera up and ready. A steady clicking sound told Daniel he was already shooting.

  “Never heard of her. Now get the hell out of here.”

  “Daniel,” Frankie said from behind him. “It’s all right. I planned to tell you anyway.”

  He turned, shielding her from the camera. She gave him a grateful smile, but her eyes were wide and sad. He wanted to throttle the guy for taking her from him. That’s exactly what was happening.

  Whatever the hell was going on, Frankie was already gone. He read the distance between them in her eyes.

  The camera man moved lightning quick, trying to climb aboard. Barkley went for his ankle and grabbed his blue jeans, snarling and growling like a ten-ton beast.

  “What are you doing here, Ms. Volpe? Slumming? What are you going to do now? Where’s your sister, Ms. Volpe?” The questions came thick and fast. Obviously, this guy was no journalist. All he wanted was to badger her. “What have you done with all the money?”

  She ignored the questions, stepped out around Daniel and bent to pick up Barkley. The dog quieted when she gathered him close. “I’m leaving. Now that you’ve found me, I’m gone.”

  10

  “What’s going on here? Who the hell are you?” Daniel demanded of the camera man. He got in the guy’s face and slammed his palm over the camera lens. “And stay the fuck off my deck.”

  “I’m a photo journalist, Mr. Martin, and this is Francesca Volpe, winner of one of the largest lottery jackpots in American history. She won six months ago, made a ton of promises to charities and hard-luck cases then skipped out. She and her family disappeared.”

  Daniel couldn’t take it all in. “She won what?”

  “Sixty-five million, Mr. Carver, after taxes. More money than anyone has a right to.”

  Frankie scooted back inside.

  “But what stinks up the place is the way she made promises then reneged on them!” The guy called loud enough so Frankie would hear his accusation. “What have you got to say about running out on burn victims and abused women, Ms. Volpe? Huh? What have you got to say? Why not tell me your side of it? Instead of hiding here?”

  Daniel twisted the camera out of the man’s grip, but not for long. He grabbed it back, and Daniel let go when he saw a strap around his neck. As much as he wanted to strangle the guy, he couldn’t let the altercation get out of hand. “You’re not welcome aboard. Get the hell off the dock and out of the marina. If I catch you bothering Frankie again, I’ll punch your lights out.”

  The guy sneered. “Yeah, like I haven’t heard that one a million times before.”

  He turned and headed back toward the ramp. But once there he stationed himself at the top, the telephoto lens aimed directly at the float home.

  Daniel swore at the guy’s smarmy arrogance and headed in to find Frankie. His mind whirled with everything he’d learned, unable to make sense of any of it. It was too unbelievable.

  She was on the phone, trying to get dressed one handed with Barkley yipping and whining at her feet.

  “Fee! They’ve found me again.” She listened. “No, I don’t think they know where you are.” She hopped on one foot, only to land heavily on the side of the bed.

  Daniel held the leg of her jeans up so she could slide it on. She tossed him a grateful smile.

  “I’ll call you in a few hours, Fee. When I decide where I’m going.” She flipped the phone closed.

  “And Chicago is not where you’re going.” She was leaving him high and dry. His gut clenched.

  “No.” She swiped a hand through her hair. “Daniel, I’m sorry. I can’t go back to Chicago. Not now.” She blinked, and he could swear she was trying not to cry.

  “You came from there. You won your millions in Chicago.”

  She nodded.

  “You didn’t tell me because you didn’t trust me.” She thought he’d want her for the money.

  She reddened and avoided meeting his gaze.

  “So, now what? You run again? Hide?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why? Talk to me, Frankie, we’ve got time. The guy’s retreated to the top of the ramp.” His mind was working over what he’d learned.

  Money, this was all about money.

  He ran his hands through his hair. It would almost be easier if she was running from the law. He laughed at a sour thought. “You must have found it hysterically funny when I offered you cash.”

  She shook her head. “No, Daniel. I thought it was generous and thoughtful. And typical of you. You’ve been nothing but kind to me and I felt awful about lying. I took terrible advantage of you—”

  “Like the burn victims? The abuse victims you promised to help?”

  She looked as if he’d struck her. Her eyes went wide as she blinked several times, her chin trembled and her lips quivered. Then in an incredible display of bravado, she tilted her chin proudly. Rose to her full height. “I don’t expect you to understand.”

  “Then explain.” He yanked a kitchen chair away from the table and sat. Hard.

  She wrung her hands. “Money changes everything. People go crazy. They expect money to fix whatever’s wrong. It doesn’t.”

  “It can fix a hell of a lot. Especially if you don’t have any.”

  “People who’ve never had money have the most unrealistic expectations. They’re the ones who get bitter.”

  “What about what that guy said?” He’d calmed down enough now to realize she was finally being open with him, and he didn
’t want to do anything to ruin this chance for them. This one last chance.

  Pathetic, that’s what he was. Blind to everything but the horrible notion that if she left, he’d never see her again.

  Her eyes softened. “I’ll make coffee.”

  “You’ll stay long enough to drink it?”

  “I can’t leave here knowing you’ll think the worst of me.”

  All he saw was Frankie, his Frankie, the woman he’d grown to love. The woman he thought needed him. For protection, support, love. She needed none of those things. She wanted for nothing.

  More money than anyone has a right to. Camera man’s condemnation rang through his mind as Frankie busied herself in his tiny kitchen. She looked like she belonged there, had since he’d carried her in his arms that first night.

  “I’ve never been good with numbers,” she said. “I even have a hard time remembering new phone numbers, so I hate having to change mine all the time.” The water began to run through the coffeemaker, hissing and sprinkling. She turned and faced him, hands behind her back as if she needed the counter to hold on to.

  “When I won I took three days to come forward. I spent the whole time writing my ticket numbers down and comparing them to the winning numbers, convinced I must have it wrong.”

  “What happened then?”

  “I didn’t plan anything until after the announcement was made. Then my life turned into a circus. My family, including long-lost second and third cousins, made demands of me and promises for me. They promised people things and expected me to go along, the way I always had. Before my life exploded, I was easygoing, not pushy or difficult. Mild-mannered, don’t-rock-the-boat Frankie.”

  He listened as she explained how her life had crashed around her. “Charities came at me,” she said, “begging for help. Most of them are legitimate, but a lot weren’t. One I found out was set up the day after I came forward to claim my prize.”

  “They targeted you.”

  She nodded, wrapped her arms around her middle. “Because I volunteered at a women’s shelter. They thought I’d just sign checks without thinking.”