by Inez Kelley
Her hand moved to the glossy lips of her sex and slipped her fingers inside the smoothness. “Here? Will you taste me here?”
“Yes.” His teeth clenched against his raging hunger.
A carnal tilt to her lips, she raised her fingers. Glistening liquid coated the tips and captured his attention. She raised them toward his mouth, teasing him. The scent of feminine musk was thick, alluring and enthralling. His lips parted to taste the nectar she offered, but she pulled her hand away.
Those wet tips disappeared inside her own lips. Oh God. He shuddered. The hottest wave of desire he had ever felt crashed down on him. She was wicked, wanton and his. He couldn’t wait one second more. Sliding down, he parted her knees.
The first flick of his tongue made her hiss. Each nibble and caress made her writhe beneath his mouth. The tiny nestled bud throbbed and grew hard between his lips and he relished every whimper that creased the night. The smoothness was new to him, so foreign and almost exotic. Sweetness flowed like honey. He took her higher and higher in ecstasy. Her hips thrusting to meet his tongue, he drew back and parted her moist, swollen lips with one long finger. It sank into her depths and was grasped by clinging walls.
She’s not the only one who can be wicked. He added another finger. Her gasp was long and loud. Her body stilled at the penetration. Slick with her desire, his lips split into a wide grin. He lowered to the pulsating nub of her clit. In echo to his fingers, his mouth moved over her, teasing her flesh, drawing more and more pleasure from her.
“Stop, Jinx.” Her rasping voice pleaded. Her tattered breath was music to his libido and her shaking fingers raked through his hair. Silently, he promised her relief.
“Stop, Jinx.” Drawing her clit into his lips, he fluttered his tongue. His fingers curled to find that hidden spot within her. In his hair, her hands tightened and tugged.
“Jinx…don’t stop.”
He tapped his fingers and pressed his tongue firmly against her and she exploded. Hips arched to him, she quaked as her climax washed over her. Her tender folds vibrated against his mouth and still he tongued her. A soft cry sounded and she thrust up to him, surrendering to the waves.
Her hips relaxed and her thighs calmed. He slowly drew a hand across his chin and smiled in the darkness. Her face was dreamy soft, with closed eyes and a rosy tint to her cheeks. His appetite raged and he needed her, wanted to sink into her softness. But her chest was still heaving with her energetic release and he was sure she was tender. Patience is a virtue and a torture. His craving for her had not been satisfied and his cock pounded in ferocious demand.
Her eyelids fluttered open and she sighed contentedly. She looked deep into his eyes. Shock gripped him. He saw not just the euphoric glow of satisfaction but the burning embers of want. Slender fingers reached behind her and she grabbed a pillow. Thrusting it under her hips, she feverishly pulled him closer. A timid joining was obviously not what she wanted. Need tightened every muscle in her face. The scorching desire coursing through his veins echoed in her touch.
“Now. I need you inside me. Now.”
The quiver in her desperate whisper consumed him. He was in her arms in an instant. Her legs clamped around his hips and she rocked to him. He wanted to go slow, to savor every glorious inch of sliding inside her but she had other plans. The tip of his cock touched her creamy center and she lunged, burying him within her without mercy.
Slick inner walls massaged him and a spike of pure white heat flashed through his body. Hot, tight lips clung to him and he drew back a fraction. It was exquisite, almost excruciating perfection. Like an enraged lion denied his dinner, his hunger leapt forward. Only the gossamer-thin hold he had on it kept him from hammering himself inside her until he rode the final crest.
“Slow,” he whispered into her mouth, his body aching with delicious desire. Desperate to temper things, to regain the hold on his tremulous control, he leaned back and drew one silky leg up. He nuzzled her calf, nipped at her ankle and tongued her Achilles’ tendon, worshipping each supple curve with a reverent mouth.
Determined, Frannie lowered her leg, using the spiked heel against his ass to urge his hips forward. She rotated her hips and scored his chest and shoulders with her nails. Her eyes shone with mirrored need and her voice was frayed with longing.
“Harder.”
The tip of her heel bit into his flesh with a saucy bite. With a harsh fractured groan, the silken cord that held his ardor snapped. He couldn’t hold back any longer. Their hands intertwined above her head, he let loose his control. He plunged and she sheathed. He ground and she milked. A fine sheen of sweat coated their skin, causing the fire’s glow to paint them in shades of yellow, orange and gold. He rotated his hips on every down thrust so each thundering crash tweaked the sensitive bud caught between them and soon she was arching to him frantically.
“More. Faster.”
The last word had barely died away before she tremored around him. She cried his name and came apart in his arms. His vision dimmed and his ears popped. Each squeeze of her muscles ricocheted through him like a lightning blast. It started at his toes and shot to the roots of his hair then zinged through his balls.
A hoarse cry ripped from deep inside him. Fireworks exploded in his blinded eyes and the ocean’s roar sounded in his ears. Each burst was a tidal wave of sensation that lasted for an eternity. As the last tiny convulsion passed, he sank into her welcoming arms and knew he was lost. He had not only given Frannie his heart. He had given her his soul.
Chapter Six
“Unless it’s mad, passionate, extraordinary love, it’s a waste of your time.
There are too many mediocre things in life; love shouldn’t be one of them.”
—Frankie in Dream for an Insomniac
Cheek resting on his bicep, back to his chest, Frannie could feel Jinx’s harsh breathing begin to slow in time with her own. Like a cat with a belly full of cream, she smiled lazily without opening her eyes. He was right. Together they had been incredible. She had used every seduction technique she could think of and the payoff was, well, orgasmic. This had been a night she would dream about forever.
As soon as her bones reformed, she wanted to crawl into his bed and start all over again. But for now, the best she could do was stroke his arm. The tiny dark hairs tickled her fingertips. He kissed her neck and murmured the low sweet nothings of sexual afterglow. Tiny bits of confetti clung to his sweat-dampened arm and she blew them away with a soft, sated sigh. The energy to do more was out of her reach.
He went ramrod stiff and his breathing stopped, hard hand firm on her hip. “Frannie.”
“Hmmm?” She really should try speaking. But the effort seemed so difficult. She would much rather just laze in his embrace, let the fire warm her skin and drift to sleep.
“Frannie, I didn’t use a condom.”
Deep in her brain, she knew she should react. But he had sapped the strength from her. No sense of panic erupted, no sense of shame or alarm. He had been through her suitcase, she knew, had seen her birth control pills. Had he been any other man, she would be freaking out now, but with him, she wasn’t. A strange sense of assurance filled her. She had no fear, no concern and no apprehension. It was because it was him. He was the reason. The strange, nearly magical connection they shared robbed her of any worries. Tonight had been perfect. She had no explanation except it was right. This was right. They were right. Together.
“’S’kay.” Her thick-tongued whisper and easy compliance relaxed his spine and he curled into her. Somewhere under her breastbone, a warm little light flickered into existence. It brought a smile to her soul as it started to grow. She was just exhausted enough to recognize it as love and she didn’t fight it. There would be time enough for that later.
Seconds before she drifted into peaceful slumber, Jinx kissed her ear and whispered, “I need to ask you a question.”
Frannie’s eyes snapped open and her heart flew into a gallop. A panic rushed through her. A question?
THE question?
Oh Gawd, no, not yet.
An absolute chilling dread gripped her heart. She wasn’t ready to lose him yet. He couldn’t leave her now. She’d just started making memories. Thoughts raced though her head, each one a half of a split second but all horrifying.
It was over.
Too soon.
A tiny tear squeezed from her tightly squinted eyes and she bit her lips against a sob of loss. She braced herself for the blow.
His voice was low, intimate and warm. “My family is coming up Christmas Eve and staying for a few days. I want you to spend Christmas with us. You haven’t made other plans, have you?”
Relief flooded her chest. He wasn’t proposing. He still wanted her. She had more time. Dizzy with released emotion, she drew a cleansing breath before shaking her head. Prisoners who escaped the electric chair have been known to laugh hysterically and she understood. The same reprieved hysteria boiled in her gut.
“Last year I spent the day with Tracey and her family. But I hadn’t made any real plans for this year.”
“So, want to meet my folks?” The gentle tease faded away as the lone tear that had fallen reached his arm. Strong hands cupped her shoulder and turned her to face him. “Frannie? What’s wrong? Why are you crying?”
“I’m not.” The glee in her voice was shrill but a few more shaky breaths returned it to normal. Half his face was in the shadows, sheltered from her gaze. The other shone with near heavenly light as the fire continued to roar. Poised slightly above her, his arm across her waist, his legs still twined with hers, he smiled at her. He was beautiful, perfect and loving. And for the moment, he was hers.
{
Ground meat squished between her fingers as Frannie took out her aggression on the meatloaf mix. Emotions she’d pushed away for too long bubbled to the surface and she couldn’t ignore them anymore. More than orgasms had ripped though her heart last night.
She was falling in love with Jinx. There was no denying it now. Tears sprang to her eyes that had little to do with the onion she’d chopped but it made a good cover. Now who is the crazy one? How could I have allowed this to happen? Loving him made things harder, but it really didn’t change a thing. Jinx would propose, she would say no and then he would leave. Her heart breaking was just a bitter bonus.
And she would say no. She had to. To preserve what dignity she could. It was so tempting to dive headlong into the fantasy world he created, to accept his pseudo-love and do the whole richer-or-poorer, in-sickness-and-in-health thing. But it wouldn’t be enough. At least not for him. Not for life.
Life lessons had taught her there was a natural order in things and nothing could upset them, not even love. Birds of a feather flocked together, mated and made more beautiful birds in Fabergé eggshells. Apples did not mingle with oranges, no matter what the juice companies said. There were two types of people in the world, the Pretties and the Plains, and mixing them only led to heartbreak. Pretties would always be drawn to Pretties and the Plains could never compete. Her ex-husband had taught her that. His words still twisted her stomach.
“I never have to worry about you cheating on me, Fran. You aren’t the ‘heart pounding in anticipation’ type. You’re the ‘every Thursday after dinner’ type.”
If she married Jinx, she would make him happy, for a while. Until the euphoria wore off. Then he’d start wondering what he’d seen in her, why he’d settled for something less than the best. He would pull away. First, he would have to work late every night. Then it would be more business trips and stilted phone calls. Falling asleep in the living room rather than coming to her bed. Conversation would revolve around who paid what bill and if the laundry was behind. They would become strangers long before papers were filed. And then she would die of heartbreak.
Thanks to her foolish heart, she would be more than sad when he left. Even now the thought of him leaving made her shake. To have him as her husband, even for a short while, would be too torturous. For a few minutes she considered pushing him away now, before he could hurt her more. But it was futile. Jinx had brainwashed himself into believing he was in love. He would not back off. No, he had to come to the realization he was wrong on his own. If it happened before he ever proposed, great. If not, then her refusal would end it. No man stuck around after being told “no” to the most important question he could ask. He might even mourn. For a time, she would be the villain in his eyes. But eventually he’d realize she’d saved him from making a terrible mistake and he would be grateful. He might even think kindly about her down the road.
Part of her wished he would march in the kitchen right now, drop to one knee and pop the question. That would put an end to her waiting for the pain to hit. The other half of her wanted him for as long as she could hold him. He made her feel giddy and beautiful and cherished. All things he would steal later when he looked at her with cold indifference.
Slapping the mound of ground meat in despair, she fought the sob in her throat. Life wasn’t fair and normally she accepted that just fine. She was comfortable with her ordinary lot in life. But now, she’d had a taste of perfection and it made ordinary a bitter pill to swallow. Still, it was better to have loved and lost early than marry twice and fail both times.
The heat from the oven burst onto her face as she slid the pan in and inhaled the hot fumes. It wasn’t even the hurt that frightened her. Pain was inevitable. It was the anger and disappointment Jinx would send her way. He would resent her. Blame her when his delusion crumbled. And that disenchantment, that rejection was more than she could handle. Knowing once again she wasn’t good enough would kill her soul. She already knew it. But to watch Jinx realize it was too painful to think about.
“Frannie, where do you want this stupid plastic tree?”
Jinx’s voice rang from the living room, jerking her from her thoughts. Like Scarlet O’Hara, Frannie stiffened her back and pushed the bad stuff away. She would think about it tomorrow. There would be plenty of empty lonely days to deal with the sadness. For now, she was going to bask in the minute. Bask in the illusion of love Jinx created. Sometimes, ignorance really was bliss.
“Stop teasing the cat.”
From atop the metal stepladder, Frannie watched Jinx sway the strand of lights back and forth, taunting Pocus. The sleepy cat’s muscles quivered in anticipation as he prepared to pounce on the twinkling lights.
“I’m just playing with him. I haven’t seen him awake very much.”
“Yeah, and when he attacks the lights and gets electrocuted, you’ll really see him move. And my living room will smell like crispy critter. So stop it. Besides, I’m ready for the last strand. Hand it here.”
The tree sparkled in its bare naked electric splendor. Boxes of decorations lay scattered throughout the living room, spilling bright bits of Christmas color. The homey scent of dinner wafted in the air and Bing Crosby Mele-Kalikimakaed his heart out as they bedecked the artificial pine. Jinx checked each ornament before handing it up to her, adding a hook if needed. An easy silence filled the room as the tree began to come together. It lulled her into a false sense of peace.
“How long were you married?”
Jinx’s out-of-the-blue question made her drop a delicate glass angel. She glanced down at him from her perch. “Where in the hell did that come from?”
He shrugged, handing her another crystal-winged figurine. “Just curious, I guess.”
Unsure of why she was uncomfortable discussing this, she answered quietly, “Five years…almost.”
“So what happened to make you throw in the towel?”
Just a little matter of him boinking every beautiful bimbo he came in contact with. “Let’s just say that we had different expectations of marriage. We decided it was best to move on. He went his way and I went mine.”
“So you just gave up? Walked away? Both of you?”
Frannie climbed off the stepladder and opened another box of ornaments, refusing to look Jinx in the eye. Humiliation tin
ged her cheeks with a heated flush. Did I give up? Yep, I gave up my self-worth to a miserable cheating dawg. Accepting she wasn’t pretty enough to hold his attention actually hurt more than the crumbling of her marriage. But once the sting had passed, she found she was comfortable being plain. Mark had done her a favor. He’d ripped off her rose-colored glasses and shoved the proverbial mirror in front of her ordinary face.
Carrying a small box of snowflakes to the couch, she turned and faced him. “If you haven’t been in a bad marriage, you wouldn’t understand. Sometimes that’s the best way. No sense in prolonging the agony. I really don’t want to discuss this with you, okay?”
“Why not?”
“My marriage and divorce aren’t things I think I should be discussing with my very newish lover. It just weirds me out, that’s all.”
She climbed back up and held out her hand. Jinx handed her a snowflake. He held his tongue through three snowflakes.
“Do you still love him?”
“You don’t take no for an answer, do you?” The dull pounding behind her eyebrows increased and she leaned one elbow on the ladder to rub the ache. “No, I’m not still in love with Mark. Besides, he’s remarried and moved on. He found somebody else before the ink was dry on the divorce papers.”
The unintended bitterness in her words fell into the empty space. She watched Jinx process her words. It amazed her how easily she read his mind. It was like she could see his brain analyzing her statement.
One black brow cocked, he went back to handing her ornaments. “Who filed for divorce?”
“Jinx! Drop it. I really don’t want to talk about this. I’m not some eighteen-year-old virgin. I have a past. So do you, I’m sure.”
“I haven’t ever been married.”
The statement irked her. So he hadn’t been married, so what? Was he judging her because she had? Holding her past against her? The irony of the playboy judging the accountant on relationships jarred her. What’s wrong with this picture?