The bench was the perfect height for a customer to step right up and be served in perfect view of the peephole. There was a wide narrow stool in the corner of the small space, possibly intended for a lady to kneel upon while performing fellatio. Unable to handle the provocative images that thought called to mind, he shoved them aside and faced Molly with a mixture of anticipation, uncertainty, and rapidly escalating need.
“Good call.” She grinned and unfolded her legs.
When she reached for him, he stepped between her spread thighs and kissed her with the desperation of a man struggling for his next breath. He was drowning and she held him under, her fingers in his hair, her breasts pillowed against his chest, her nipples hard as marbles. He tilted his head, his tongue delving deeper, scraping against hers as he pressed his erection against her soft, wet warmth. When she dug her fingernails into his shoulders and groaned, he melted like a candle in an inferno. Undulating his hips with the frantic need to be inside her, he felt the pressure building at the base of his spine and yanked back, putting some space between them to slow himself down.
Struggling to catch his breath, he rested his forehead against hers and cupped her face. “You sure you want to do this here? In a whorehouse?”
“A former whorehouse. And, hell yeah. Doesn’t it turn you on a little bit?”
“You turn me on.”
She kissed him again. A slow, deep kiss that left his head spinning and his heart pounding against his chest like it was trying to break free. He was seeing spots before his eyes and knew that was because every ounce of blood in his head had pooled into his groin. He reached down to pop the button on his fly and lower the zipper to ease some of the pressure.
“I need you.” Molly’s blue-gray eyes were dark as storm clouds and her face was soft with passion. “I need this. Before we say goodbye, take me like you mean it.”
“Yes.” He nodded, half delirious, and stepped back. Hooking his foot around the low stool in the corner, he dragged it over so it rested just below Molly’s dangling feet. He pulled her down from her perch and placed her on the stool. “Turn around.” While she obliged his husky command, he shoved his jeans and underwear down to his thighs.
She leaned forward over the bench, arching her back to present herself to him. Encased in the tight, clingy red fabric, her firm round ass was displayed to its best advantage. Unfastening his cuffs and a few buttons on his dress shirt, he pulled the sweaty garment over his head and tossed it aside. When he touched the backs of Molly’s thighs, she gasped softly. He stepped closer, stroking the satiny smooth skin upward until he reached the hem of the obscenely short dress and slid his hands underneath to palm her ass. He was trembling with the urge to take her hard and fast, but it would be over too quickly and he didn’t want that. He wanted to make it good for her. Before we say goodbye. Her words pinched a spot in the vicinity of his heart.
Using his thumb, he rubbed the damp crotch of her satin panties. She was ready for him. Him. Not the other guy. Her date could take a long hike off a short pier. Anders placed just a bit of pressure on the spot he knew would make her squirm. She groaned and pushed back on his hand.
“Please, Anders.” Her husky voice was sexy as fuck. “I can’t wait any longer.”
His ass and thighs tightened in response and his erection lurched. Hooking his fingers around her panties, he lowered them until they pooled around her five-inch stilettos. She stepped out of the scrap of satin and kicked it to the side before arching her ass toward him again and encouraging him to continue.
He slipped his hands back under the hem of her dress and slid them over the luscious globes of her ass to grip her waist. When his erection bumped her opening, they both gasped, and Molly tensed beneath him, panting hard in breathy little wisps. He eased into her slick silky heat, reveling in the throaty groan she made as he slowly buried himself to the hilt. Taking just a moment to savor the way her tight body contracted around him, he withdrew and came back into her hard. When she whimpered, he came into her again and repeated the motion until he was pounding into her with mindless aggression. Molly braced her left hand on the bench and her right on the wall for stability as she drove back on him, matching his thrusts with a violence of her own, all the while mindlessly chanting, “Yes, yes, Oh, God, don’t stop…”
He stopped as a sudden thought occurred to him. Buried deep inside her body, he rasped, “That bozo downstairs…”
Tossing her glorious red-gold mane over her shoulder, she looked back at him. “Why are you stopping?” She ground into him, trying to scratch her itch.
A surge of anger pounded in his temples. He grabbed her hair, fisting the mass just shy of truly hurting her, to hold her still. “The one you’re having dinner with, are you going to see him again?”
“What if I said yes?” She bit her bottom lip, taunting him with a raised eyebrow.
His gut lurched and jealousy ignited inside him like wildfire. He tightened his grip and thrust into her just once but so hard she grunted and gasped.
A dreamy smile spread across her face, and a dimple winked at him. “Why don’t you try a little harder to make me forget him?”
Releasing her hair, he shifted his hands to her breasts and yanked the fabric down, tearing a seam. The full mounds spilled into his hands as he started moving inside her again. With his gut still burning with jealousy, he pounded into her with a madness that blinded him. Molly braced both hands on the frosted window, begging him not to stop.
She was his, damn it. His.
“Say my name.” He rolled her swollen nipples between his fingers.
“Oh…”
“Say my name,” he demanded, rubbing the hard nubs and enjoying the way they strained against his palms.
“Anders. Oh, God…”
His name on her lips tickled down his spine like a fingernail. His lower back tightened and his balls swelled. Molly was a live wire, writhing beneath him, electrified and hot to the touch. Reaching under her right arm, he braced her across the chest and pumped into her faster. Skin slapped against skin in an erotic echo of the bordello’s past life. He was close. So close. She moaned and began to shatter in his arms, milking him and coercing him to follow. His own release gathered at the base of his spine and shot up his shaft. His muscles went weak and pure feral instinct took over until he was bumping and grinding against her, wringing out every last ounce of euphoric sensation.
Anders opened his eyes. A rectangle-shaped sliver of light was cast on the wall above his head. He thought nothing of it until it suddenly disappeared with a small click. The peephole. Had someone been watching them? Her date maybe? Had he come looking for her and gotten an eyeful? As twisted as the notion was, it gave Anders a smug sense of satisfaction. He wasn’t proud of it, but there it was. He bumped his hips against Molly one last time and then reluctantly withdrew from her.
He stepped back as she straightened and took a moment to tuck her boobs back into her bodice. She pulled the hem of her skirt down last, and he was disappointed to lose the view. He pulled his jeans up and refastened them.
Still panting slightly from the exertion, she turned around on the stool. Her skin was flushed and dewy with sweat. She reached up to cup his cheek. “Thank you for everything, Anders. Take care of yourself.” Her thumb stroked the healed scar on his right cheekbone and her eyes suddenly glistened with moisture.
Her touch made him feel powerful and weak at the same time. He wanted to dissolve into it. He wanted to run away from it. Before he could do either, she dropped her hand and stepped off the stool. She picked up her discarded pair of panties and slipped them on.
“Molly…”
“Please don’t make this more difficult than it has to be.” She grabbed her clutch purse from the floor and paused at the curtain. “Goodbye, Anders.”
Molly wasn’t dead. She was vibrant and beautiful and very much alive, but as Anders watched her go, he forgot to keep breathing. When the ache in his lungs became too unbearable, he gasped and
leaned heavily on the bench, clutching his chest and shaking.
A good fifteen minutes passed before he was able to make his way back downstairs. Molly and her date were gone. The bus boy was cleaning their table. His bandmates looked like they were in no hurry to wrap up the evening. They were celebrating Tuck’s birthday belatedly since they hadn’t been together in May when he turned forty-nine. The party had been Anders’ idea, but he was no longer in the mood to socialize. He stopped by the table to say his goodbyes.
“You sure you don’t want the limo to give you a ride back?” Tuck said after ribbing him for going soft with old age when it came to partying.
“I’ll walk. It’s only a few blocks.”
“You want to give Selena her cell back? She left it on the table.” Tuck handed the phone to Anders.
“Where’d she go?”
Tuck shrugged. “Clarissa saw her leave.”
Anders frowned. It wasn’t like Selena to take off without her phone. “When?”
“Maybe twenty minutes ago.” Clarissa sat beside her husband Ray, sipping a martini while he lounged in the seat beside her, absently tugging a lock of her long blonde hair. Clarissa glanced at him for verification. “That sound right?”
Ray shrugged. His eyes were hidden behind a pair of lightly tinted sunglasses. “Don’t know. Don’t care.”
“It’s all right. I’m sure I’ll see her tomorrow. If she comes back for her phone tell her I have it.”
“You still blowing us off for that kid’s birthday party?” Ray asked. Besides being the band’s drummer, he was also in charge of scheduling rehearsals. It was the reason they’d shown up in Key West. The band was eager to get back out on the road.
“I promised my boy I’d take him.” Anders’ gut tightened as he thought of Molly. She would be there. They’d see each other again. He wasn’t leaving town yet. He hadn’t told the guys he was thinking of postponing the tour until January, but he had to do it soon.
He had an appointment in the morning with a real estate agent to purchase a house just a couple blocks west of Duval Street in Old Town. A two-story traditional Old Key West style home, yellow with white trim and wrap-around porches on both floors. What sold him on the property had been the pool house, which the current owner, an opera singer, had renovated into a rehearsal space. The soundproof room could easily be converted into a recording studio and the two-bedroom apartment on the second floor used for guests.
The main house was built in 1936, but it had been renovated with modern, high-end finishes. Four bedrooms, four baths with an open floor plan. It was big but not too big. Perfect for a family of four with room to grow. Anders could afford something nicer, something on the water like the Linus’ sprawling Spanish-style mansion, but he didn’t need all of that to make him happy. And neither did Obie. Plus, Jimmy and Sophie lived in the neighborhood. He and Obie would enjoy having them close by.
He was buying the house to give his son a home.
That was the only reason.
Chapter Thirty-Three
“The party’s in the backyard.”
Molly conjured up a smile and followed the uniformed maid through the house toward the sound of music and laughter. If the number of cars packing the long driveway were any indication, half of Key West was at Casa Linus on that sunny, Saturday afternoon. It was kind of April to share her nineteenth birthday party with Cheyenne whose actual birthday was on Sunday. Just because Molly wanted to crawl into her PJs and sulk, she couldn’t let either girl down by not making an appearance.
She was heartsick over the whole mess with Anders. She never meant to fall in love with him, but she had. He had feelings for her too, strong feelings, but for some reason he didn’t want to acknowledge them. Maybe he was just afraid. She’d been scared of risking her heart again too, but telling Anders how she felt had been liberating. Now she could move forward with no regrets from her end, but she was still sad. Still wondering what might have been if he’d given them a chance. He might’ve eventually gotten past whatever was holding him back, but there were no guarantees. She needed some sofa time with a pint of Chunky Monkey and a cozy blanket to come to terms with the things that were beyond her control.
The maid led Molly to the large lanai where four dozen white-covered tables were decorated with multi-colored daisy centerpieces and dozens of matching balloons. A catering crew was prepping the dinner buffet. In the center of the room, between two gift tables, a gorgeous sheet cake large enough to feed a football team said Happy Birthday, Cheyenne and April!
Party guests milled about, both inside and out by the pool, faces Molly didn’t recognize and doubted Cheyenne knew either. Trevor was there somewhere, and Molly was girding herself for the reunion. Sue and Oscar were coming by later, but Sophie and Jimmy were still on their honeymoon. Molly had seen the pictures Sophie posted on her Facebook page. Greece was stunning, and they were having a blast. Despite Cheyenne’s lack of friends and family at the party, there was a table full of gifts addressed to her.
Molly tried not to tear up, but she was so moved by April’s thoughtfulness. Putting Cheyenne’s name first on the cake. Making sure she got just as many gifts as April did. Cheyenne had gotten used to not expecting much fuss for her birthday. Their celebrations were modest. Sometimes it was just the two of them and a cupcake because that was all Molly could afford. Her family didn’t do gifts. There were just too many children and grandchildren for it to make sense. What April had done for Chey today was beyond special.
“Ma?” Cheyenne called as she dashed around a waiter to get to Molly. “You made it!”
“Oh, my goodness, this is incredible. I feel underdressed.” Molly tugged on the T-shirt she wore with a pair of jean shorts as she glanced at a young woman walking by in black mini dress. “I thought the invitation said: ‘casual pool party’.”
“You’re fine. You look great.” Cheyenne glanced over her shoulder nervously and her long, skinny legs shifted from one navy blue Ked to the other. “Ma, um, Trevor’s here.”
Molly’s smile faded. “I know. Where is he?”
“Hello, Molly.”
At the sound of her name, her stomach took a dive. Trevor Schaffer was standing behind her holding a blue plastic cup. The last fourteen years had been good to him. His dark brown hair, the same shade as Cheyenne’s, only had a few strands of gray. He was shorter than she recalled, but at 5’10”, he still towered over her. He was still whip lean. Still boyishly handsome though the corners of his eyes had a few extra wrinkles. He wore a light blue dress shirt opened at the collar, no tie, and navy slacks with brown loafers. He wasn’t smiling, but he wasn’t frowning either.
“Trevor.” She nodded, folding her arms across her chest and wishing she’d worn heels instead of sandals. “Glad you could make it.”
He snorted softly. “You’re a terrible liar.”
“I’m trying to be polite.” She glanced at Cheyenne, saw she was as tense as a mouse in a cat house, and squeezed her arm reassuringly. “Cheyenne tells me you’re heading back to LA tonight.” She and Molly hadn’t had much of a chance to talk about how the reunion had gone, but Cheyenne had mentioned he didn’t plan to stay the entire weekend.
“I have to attend a wedding in Sacramento with my wife, but I’ve invited Cheyenne to come and stay with us for a couple of months. We have a very prestigious prep school twenty minutes from our house. I think she would excel there if she gave it a try.” He handed his cup to a passing waiter.
Molly focused on breathing in and out through her nose as her blood pressure spiked. “And what did she say?”
“She said she had to ask you.”
Molly’s gaze flickered to Cheyenne in surprise. A week ago, Chey would’ve jumped at an opportunity like this, and Molly be damned. Was Cheyenne using her as an excuse to blow off her dad? The teenager was staring at a spot between them, her expression guarded.
Molly moistened her lips. “Well, then—”
“Before you bring custody into
this,” Trevor began, the tops of his ears turning red just like Cheyenne’s did whenever she lost her temper. “Let me assure you, I consulted with one of the best family attorneys in the country. She advised me of my rights as Cheyenne’s father. If I took you to court, there is a very strong chance you would lose.”
It took every ounce of self-control Molly possessed not to launch herself at the self-righteous son-of-a-bitch. Not involving the police when Cheyenne had ended up in Jamaica might have been risky and dangerous, but Molly felt more certain than ever she’d made the right call. Trevor would’ve jumped at the opportunity to use the incident against her in court. Molly could have lost custody of Cheyenne altogether.
Trying hard not to cause a scene, Molly leaned forward and kept her voice low. “Is this why you came here? To ruin my daughter’s birthday?”
“Our daughter,” he corrected, not even attempting to be quiet. “You are so selfish, you know that? Did you ever stop to ask her what she wants? She contacted me, remember.”
Cheyenne had bowed her head, but Molly could see her face was red.
She’d just been through a huge ordeal where she’d proven she was capable of using her brains and her instincts to survive on her own. But instead of being more confident and determined to spend time with Trevor, she was being remarkably quiet. Well, it looked like she was learning a valuable lesson. Put your fingers in the fire and you’re gonna get burnt. Cheyenne had lit this match. She could put it out.
“You know what?” Molly rocked back on her heels, resting her hand on her hips. “I trust Cheyenne to do what’s best for herself. If she wants to spend time with you, I’ll support that. And if she wants to go to some fancy prep school, I’ll support that too as long as you pay for it.”
Trevor looked like he was getting ready to argue, but Molly had stolen his thunder. His eyes narrowed with suspicion. “What’s the catch?”
Bahama Mama Page 32