by Sylvie Kaye
Gratefully, it didn't take long to forget. Mercy consumed him, body, mind, spirit. Her flesh, her willingness, her essence enveloped him.
His body responded. He grabbed her hips and arched, pumping into her wild gyrations.
Frantic, hot, and fast, she rode him.
Soon, he was wet with perspiration, and a sheen broke out across her face and breasts. Yet neither one of them let up.
Until she became convulsive, and he felt her begin to break apart. He let himself come then, joining her as they drove toward a spastic climax.
"Babe,” he groaned after she'd collapsed on top of him.
She reached up to peck him on chin. “You were right. I can come this way.” She dropped her head back onto his chest.
More appreciation. He ruffled his fingers through her damp, tangled hair, massaging her scalp to assure her she'd done the job well.
Overdone it, actually.
"You deserve a break before we start up again.” And so did he.
"Mmm.” She fingered the hair on his chest next to where her cheek rested. Then she stopped, and he could tell by her even breaths that she'd nodded off, hopefully forgetting about the promise of orgasm number three.
He closed his eyes. Grateful to doze.
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Chapter Ten
Jay bolted for the front door to his apartment as soon as he hung up the phone. Damn computer geek had to call now, demanding he drop everything and come at once.
"I've got to run to the store for milk for my morning coffee.” He blew a perfunctory kiss to where Cindy sat at his computer diligently posting pictures of his etchings for a catalogue he had no intention of producing.
"You could try drinking your coffee black.” She flashed him what he supposed was a seductive smile before adding, “Hurry back."
Gawd. He hoped he wouldn't have to screw her.
Once outside he hopped into his Jag and tooled down the road. As he flicked on the DVD player to Enrique Iglesias and one of his lust-driven romantic tunes, it only enforced his determination to go through with the deal. His dream of a villa in Spain filled with all the Latin ladies his libido could stand was only a down payment away.
Thanks in no small part to Cindy and her gullibility. She'd been so easy to dupe. Using Rita to make her jealous had been his ticket to success. The talkative twit had been riding high ever since he'd chosen her over the office slut.
Before Enrique's second song finished, Jay swung into the lot of the darkened restaurant and spied a lumpy shadow of a man lurking near a tree. Killing the engine and headlights, he climbed out of the Jag.
"Did you bring the money?” the man asked in a hushed voice as soon as he approached him.
"Sheesh.” Jay waved his hand in front of his face. “What in the hell have you been doing, dumpster diving?"
"Some couple was doing it in their car when I arrived. I had to hide behind the trash bins until five minutes ago.” He shoved his hands into his baggy pockets. “Where's my money?"
"Information first.” He wasn't about to pay upfront. The geek knew Jay was computer illiterate. He could sell him anything.
"It doesn't work like that. Money first, research next."
"How do I know I won't get caught?"
"I don't give guarantees. You take your chances like everybody else."
"Hell.” Jay swiped his hand across the back of his neck. Life was easier when he sold office memos instead of trying to go high-tech.
"Going to stop crying about it or do you need a hanky?” The guy stared at him through wire-framed glasses that magnified his red-rimmed eyeballs to look enormous.
Jay stepped to the left, downwind of the guy. The stench clung to his torn, grunge-styled T-shirt and was making negotiating difficult. “I lined up an unsuspecting employee who has computer access, like you advised. She's waiting back at my apartment, so could we wrap this up before she gets suspicious?"
"You're the one holding up payment."
"Damn, I forgot my wallet back at my place.” Pretending his pocket was empty, he patted his pants where his tri-fold wallet warmed his ass cheek.
"Yeah, right."
"So what's next?"
"You mean aside from paying me?” The guy checked his cell phone, maybe for a message, maybe for the time. He snapped it shut. “Can you get her password? It would make the process easier."
"I'll work on her.” Jay forced himself to take the man's smelly hand and shake it.
* * * *
Sometime later Spence awoke to fluttery kisses on his neck and underneath his stubbled jaw. Mercy was awake, and her eager lips were demanding orgasm number three. She hadn't forgotten.
"What time is it?” he asked, his voice groggy from sleep.
"It's late,” she whispered, looking up at him with her bewitching eyes.
"How late?” He stretched before kissing her.
The titillating taste of her decadent mouth managed a jerk reaction from his satiated dick. When her sizzling lips skimmed down his neck, chest, and stomach, stopping to tease his belly button, his dick became less satisfied and more demanding.
"Anyone tell you how good you are at this foreplay stuff?” He shifted his leg, allowing her easier access to his lower parts.
"No.” She swirled her tongue along his hipbone. “Neither of my ex-boyfriends was into foreplay or afterglow."
"They were jerks.” He squirmed, his groin thrumming with anticipation. “Which would explain why you never had a climax before."
"I was beginning to think it was me. But thanks to you...” She dropped grateful kisses onto his cock.
Her warm, wet tongue grazed its throbbing head. Spence was wide awake now and raring to please the lady if it took all night.
Swiftly, he recalled he didn't have all night. He'd agreed to meet Google at one a.m., and that was a meeting he didn't plan on being late for. Even for the talented tongue of Mercy.
"What time did you say it was?” She hadn't said.
Crawling up his body, her pliant curves fitting him in all the right places, she glanced over his shoulder toward a night table. “A little before midnight."
"Shit.” He bolted upright, clutching her to keep her from falling off the bed. She looked speechless and wide-eyed. “I have a meeting in an hour."
"You ranchers certainly conduct business at odd hours."
He chuckled. “It's due to long hours spent out on the range during the daylight hours."
Only he couldn't remember the last time he'd seen a range. Or lifted a bale of hay around the homestead he and Mark had owned—which belonged to him alone now. He couldn't ranch the place until he squared things with Parker.
"Makes sense,” she murmured, believing him.
Naive. No wonder men took advantage of her.
He drew her closer and kissed her. She smelled like satin sheets and great sex. She tasted like late mornings spent in bed on rainy days. She tasted like forever.
He let himself get lost in the seduction of her mouth for several long moments before he pulled away and dropped a promissory kiss on her forehead. “Number three will have to be in the shower."
Snatching up the last rubber, he hopped off the bed and tugged her by the hand toward the bathroom.
She detoured at the door and led him into the hallway instead. Two doors down, she stopped in her barefoot tracks and swung a lacquered brown door open. “The Mesopotamia."
There sat the biggest, girliest bathtub he'd ever laid eyes on. Heck, the thing was pink marble for crying out loud.
He backed up. Shook his head. “Sorry, but I've got to take a rain check on the tub."
"Aww.” She moaned with disappointment.
He'd only promised her three orgasms. No bathtub stipulations included.
Next to the tub stood a glass shower enclosure, large enough to fit a small herd of cattle, and the marble on the walls wasn't pink but brown. He pointed. “I don't have time to impress you with my showerhead techniques, but there's plenty of sp
ace for moving around."
Her lips curved upward slightly. “You can show me your ingenuity another night."
Another night. As much as his balls warmed to her offer, he'd have to shoot her down. But not right now.
He kissed her quick, snapping open the glass door and tossing the packet onto the shower stall shelf. Once he adjusted the taps, steamy water spat in every direction. The sprays held so much potential—and with him in too much of a rush to utilize them.
He gestured for her to step in. “Lady's first."
And she was a lady, despite the sexy look in her eyes. A part of him wished she were his lady. But things were what they were. Not that he blamed her, but women like her, and like his ex, didn't have staying power when it came to down-and-dirty circumstances like his.
He joined her underneath the streaming jets, and she handed him a sudsy bar of soap that smelled like some sissy bar drink.
"Pina Colada,” she explained when he sniffed.
After sudsing up his dick, he rinsed and held out the bar of soap to her. Before she reached for it, he pulled back, remembering her limited sex life. She'd probably never showered with a man before.
"Let me.” He could spare a few minutes to work her over with the bar of soap.
Soon steam and lather, and the scent of tropical islands, consumed the roomy space. He smoothed a thick layer of lather over her breasts until a cascade of suds dripped from the tips of her taut nipples. Gliding lower, he laved shimmering bubbles over her slick stomach and her patch of springy curls. With a sigh, she closed her eyes and opened her stance to maintain her balance.
Spence sucked in his breath at the sight of her luscious body, white and creamy, as if shot with his cum. She made an erotic image. His dick grew rock hard.
"Turn around, and I'll do your back,” he urged to hurry things along when he'd rather linger over each sexually charged stroke.
Washing her shoulders first, he lathered his way down the length of her spine until he reached her very last vertebrae. He watched as the sudsy foam slithered between the perky cheeks of her ass.
His arousal grew even harder, if that was possible. Soon he sported the founding-father of all boners. Watching became too painful, and he hugged Mercy to him. The cleft of her glistening ass cradled his erection while his hands slid over her warm, slippery flesh.
Her breasts felt soft, her nipples nubby to the touch. He skimmed his thumbs over them, and she moaned. Slipping his hands lower, he glided his palms down her sleek stomach.
One at a time, he slid his fingers over her clit. The bud responded by pulsing and beading. She whimpered with pleasure.
When two of his wet fingers sank inside of her, stretching her wide, embedding knuckle-deep, she ground her ass into him.
He groaned into her ear. “Move forward."
She stepped forward into the shower sprays. Not to break contact, he followed.
The smell of coconut enveloped him. The hot water splayed from all three sides, hard and stinging against his skin, while her body felt soft and sleek in his arms. The contrast excited him, and he hurried to explain in more detail this time.
"Bend forward.” When she reached for the wall, splashes of water slapped against them, leaving their flesh red and hot and ready.
She tossed him an eager smile over her shoulder, and he grabbed the foil packet from the shower nook where he'd tossed it earlier. In no time, he approached her quivering pussy from behind.
As soon as he slid between her legs and into her tightness, he grasped her hips from behind and pumped. At first he watched as his shaft entered and exited her pussy, but then he closed his eyes and gave himself over to the sheer pleasure of Mercy.
As she began to come, she reached around, grabbed one of his ass cheeks in her suddenly powerful grip and urged him on faster and harder. He'd probably be black-and-blue tomorrow, but her gratification—who was he kidding, his gratification—was worth it.
With two more plunges, she came and slackened her hold on his backside. As soon as he shot his wad, he withdrew and Mercy sank to the floor of the steamy shower enclosure. He slid down next to her. Dragging air in and out of his lungs, he reached up and spun the taps to off.
After he finally caught his breath, he said, “I have to go.” He had to stay focused. Make it to his meeting with Google on time.
She nodded.
Water dribbled off his body as he exited the shower. Grabbing a towel, he flicked the thick terry over his hair and his body while heading for the door.
"Sinner."
When he looked back, she was standing, rosy and warm with a just-got-laid gleam in her eyes. Her hair was wet and dripping, plastered against her head in places, sticking up in others. Yet somehow, she managed to turn him on all over again.
"Yeah?” He stood as rigid as his dick had been earlier and waited for her to continue.
"You said you'd stay the night. Are you coming back?"
Hell, but he wanted to.
Hell, but he shouldn't.
He had street business to take care of. Dirty dealings. He didn't want to bring the stench back with him to the clean, sweet thing.
What he primed himself to say next would ruin any chance of his ever being inside her again, but he had to say it. He looked away before he walked away.
"You came three times. Our bargain's done."
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Chapter Eleven
Mercy plopped her one-step-from-being-pruned body onto the cool, satiny sheets, which were still saturated with the smell of sex and Sinner. Nestling her head onto his pillow indent, she inhaled deeply of his masculine scent and squeezed her arms around her middle. She'd finally had an orgasm.
Three, to be exact. Every one better than the last. No, make that every one different than the last. With each torrid climax, Sinner had shattered her universe.
She sighed. He was so wrong. Tonight's bargain might be finished, but there were more bargains to strike between them.
He'd acted cool and detached, but she suspected he liked her well enough.
Otherwise, he'd have laughed her off the first time she approached him with her unpracticed, magazine-read attempts at being sexy. And what about his apology? He was sorry he let her slip from the bench to leave her unsatisfied, and he kept apologizing and coming on to her even when she'd ignored him.
Mercy didn't plan to ignore him again. He was going to be hers until she left for home. Somehow.
She ran her fingers between her thighs over her sensitive flesh, trying to re-ignite the sensation only Sinner seemed capable of evoking there. What she needed was a plan of attack.
Oh, she'd attack his lusty body all right, once she got him back into her bed again. But first she had to come up with a way to get him there.
She stopped her pointless stroking. Bone tired and sated from their vigorous tryst, she rolled over and reached for her cell phone. She'd promised to call Cindy.
She paused. Maybe she shouldn't bother Cindy. Maybe Jay was finally showing her more than his etchings. Maybe he didn't even have etchings.
Sliding off the bed, Mercy strode over to the dresser and pulled a pair of striped cotton pajamas from a drawer. Thinking better of her promise, she grabbed the phone again. Suppose Jay was as slow with his advances as ever and Cindy had given up for the night and was waiting to come home.
When Mercy flipped the cell phone open, three text messages beeped for her attention. All from Cindy.
Are you all right? Call me.
Are you there? Call me.
Are you alive? Call me.
When she punched in Cindy's number, and her friend answered on the first ring, Mercy shook her head. This didn't sound promising for Cindy. Or Jay.
"It's me,” Mercy said. “I got your messages. All of them. I'm alive."
"So far,” Cindy gushed. “You did tell the doorman to take a good look at Sinner in case you turned up missing or dead so he could identify the devil in a lineup?"
; "Yes, and the doorman thanked me before he asked if I needed drug testing.” Mercy groaned. “Cindy, I couldn't treat Sinner like a serial killer even for your peace of mind.” Then she lowered her voice to a purr. “Now, lady killer, that's another story. He certainly knew his way around this lady."
"I can hear you smiling from here,” Cindy screeched. “You can give me all the details tomorrow, but for now, I have to know. Did you?"
"Yes.” Mercy nodded. “I came. And Sinner's gone home.” Or somewhere. But why bother Cindy with specifics that would only drive her wild. Or wilder. “How's your night so far?"
"Jay does have etchings if you were curious."
"I was.” Mercy laughed while alternating between holding the phone with her shoulder and sticking her arms into the short-sleeves of her pj's.
"The problem is I've seen them over and over. We've been taking digital pictures of every one of his etchings from every conceivable lighting angle.” Cindy yawned, sounding bored. “He's asked me to help him put together a catalog of his artwork."
"So you two will be spending more quality time together.” Mercy perked her ears, fishing for info from Cindy for a change while she wriggled into her pajama shorts.
"So far, the quality hasn't been so hot.” Cindy yawned again, louder. “Maybe it'll improve once we're past the picture-taking stage. But I doubt that will happen tonight. I'll be home soon, but don't bother to wait up."
Mercy flipped the cell shut. Poor Cindy. Her date with Jay didn't sound very exciting. Now Sinner ... Mercy's pulse raced just thinking his name. Maybe he had a friend to fix Cindy up with.
Not a good idea.
Shaking her head, she buttoned her pajama shirt. In the immortal words of Sister Doria, that good deed wouldn't go unpunished.
* * * *
"Psst."
The hiss came from the shadows near the rear of the deserted parking lot of the restaurant adjoining the Starry Night. Spence strode toward the sound, and Google emerged from behind the pecan tree, which concealed the garbage bins from the dimly lit street. A breeze kicked up, and the odor from the Dumpster followed the informant as he stepped forward.
"Hey, Killer,” Google grunted.