Pleasure Seekers

by Rochelle Alers

  He shook his head slowly. “I don’t want you to need me, Alana.”

  “What do you want?”

  “I want you to want me,” he said in a quiet voice.

  Alana looked at Derrick with amused wonder. Did he think she didn’t know about his sexual predilection? She’d been around enough men to know when one wanted to sleep with her. And the signals Derrick gave off indicated his interest in her wasn’t of a physical nature.

  “If I’m going to share my life with a man then I also want him to share my bed. You know and I know that that’s not going to happen.”

  Derrick went completely still as if he’d been impaled by a sharp object. “You know?”

  Alana nodded. “I suspected.” She waved a hand. “Don’t worry, D.,” she said, using his hip-hop moniker. “I’ll never tell anyone.”

  “And if you do, then I’ll just deny it,” he countered.

  “It won’t happen, Derrick. Friends don’t out friends.”

  An expression of serenity softened his haphazard face. “I’d be honored if you’d permit me to become godfather to your child.”

  Alana smiled. Her baby was nothing more than a heartbeat and it already had people putting in bids for godmother and father. Faye had asked to be godmother, and now Derrick godfather.

  “I’d be honored to have you as my child’s godfather.”

  “Good.” Shifting on his chair, Derrick reached into a pocket of his trousers and pushed a small velvet box across the table. “I came here to give you this. When you tire of them you can give them to your son or daughter.” Pushing back his chair, he came to his feet, and came around to kiss her cheek. “I’ll be in touch about your apartment.”

  Alana sat staring at the door Derrick had closed behind him, drumming her fingers on the top of the box she knew contained a piece of jewelry.

  It was the day after Ilene and Faye had slept over that she’d decided to sell her apartment and go back home. She needed her mother and her mother needed her.

  Ilene Fairchild had become her inspiration to include another character who would give her novel-in-progress the glamour and glitz it’d been lacking.

  And with the proceeds from the sale of her property, and the money she’d saved, she could afford to live comfortably until her son or daughter was ready to go to school.

  Turning her attention to the gift from Derrick, she raised the top to find a pair of diamond studs. The near-colorless princess-cut diamonds set in platinum rendered her mute. She’d seen a pair of studs with a total weight of two carats, and these were more than twice that weight.

  How ironic, she mused. The man who professed to loving her hadn’t called her in months, while another who preferred men had offered to take care of her and her unborn child.

  When she woke up earlier that morning she never would’ve predicted how her life would change. And it was changing—every day, with the new life growing inside her.

  CHAPTER 76

  Bart couldn’t wait to return home. He’d missed New York and he missed Faye.

  Cradling his BlackBerry, he dialed the number to her cell phone, counting off the rings. A smile crinkled the lines around his eyes when he heard her soft greeting.

  “Hello, stranger.”

  “It’s only been a week and I’ve been relegated to stranger status?”

  “Where are you, Bart?”

  He peered out the side window of the limo. “We landed at Westchester, so I’m in the Bronx. Where are you?”

  “I’m home.”

  “Mine or yours?” he asked.

  “Mine.”

  “How would you like to spend the night with me?”

  Her soft laugh came through the earpiece. “What do I get for spending the night with you?”

  He chuckled. “We’ll start with breakfast in bed.”

  “It’s beginning to sound rather tempting.”

  “I promise to give you a massage.”

  “What else?”

  “I will wash your back.”

  “What else, Bart?” Faye crooned seductively.

  Vertical lines appeared between his eyes. “What else is there?”

  “You think about it on your way here. Bye.”

  “Don’t, Faye!” he shouted as she hung up. A smile replaced his frown. Faye had shown him another side of her mercurial personality. She’d become a tease. He disconnected the call, sat back and stared at the passing landscape as Giuseppe maneuvered smoothly in and out of late-evening traffic as he left the Bronx behind, heading toward Manhattan.

  Faye, hearing the familiar ring from the doorman’s phone, crossed the living room and picked up the receiver off the wall. “Yes.”

  “Mr. Houghton is here to see you.”

  She paused. Whenever Bart came to pick her up he’d always waited downstairs for her. “Please send him up.” She hung up, unlocked and opened the door to wait for the man with whom she’d fallen in love despite numerous reasons it would prove disastrous to her emotional equilibrium.

  A smile parted her lips when she saw Bart exit the elevator cradling two large grocery bags to his chest. “What on earth did you buy?”

  Leaning over, he kissed her forehead. “I brought breakfast, lunch and dinner. I thought I’d spend the weekend with you.”

  It wasn’t until he’d walked into the entryway that she saw the backpack he’d slung over one shoulder. Faye reached for one of the bags. “Come with me to the kitchen.”

  Bart took a quick glance at Faye’s apartment as he followed her. She hadn’t drawn the drapes in the living room. Like his, her apartment overlooked the East River. A seating grouping in the living room reflected her simple, elegant style that was comfortable and inviting. Two facing sofas, upholstered in white on a pale gray area rug, flanked a fireplace, and two easy chairs, one in black, the other in gray, encircled a glass-topped coffee table on a stainless-steel frame. The calming fragrance of dried lavender spilling over in profusion from large earthen crocks in the unlit fireplace wafted throughout the living/dining area. He walked into a large modern kitchen with state-of-the art appliances.

  Faye placed her bag on the granite countertop and turned to smile at Bart. “You should’ve told me that you planned to stay over when you called,” she chastised softly.

  Bart placed his bag next to the other one, then let his backpack slide to the floor. “I would’ve told you if you hadn’t hung up on me.” Taking three steps, he closed the distance between them and took her in his arms. “If it’s a problem, we can go to my place.”

  Moving closer, Faye rested her head on his chest. “It won’t be a problem if we don’t make love.”

  “Why should making love become a problem?”

  She smiled. “I don’t have any condoms.”

  Bart tightened his hold around her waist and pressed his mouth to her hair. “When are you going to let go and trust me?”

  Easing back, Faye stared up at Bart. He looked exhausted. There were new lines around his remarkable eyes. “I do trust you, Bart. And if I didn’t I’d go back on the Pill.” She reached up and traced the outline of his mouth. “You look tired. Go to bed. I’ll put everything away.”

  He shook his head. “No. I’ll help you.”

  Rising on tiptoe, she brushed a kiss over his mouth. “Go to bed. That’s an order.”

  “Yes, boss,” he whispered, kissing her temple, mouth and the column of her neck. “Don’t take too long.”

  Bart released Faye and picked up the backpack. She was right. He was exhausted. Giuseppe had dropped him off at the penthouse, where he’d shaved, showered; he’d lingered to put several changes of clothes into a backpack while his driver called a local gourmet shop for the food items he’d instructed him to order.

  He found Faye’s bedroom, removed his clothes and pulled back the lightweight quilt on her bed. The scent of her perfume enveloped him as he slipped between the sheets. It was the last thing he remembered before falling into a deep, dreamless sleep.

  CHAP
TER 77

  Faye woke up Saturday literally on the wrong side of the bed. When she’d told Bart to go to bed the night before, he’d gotten in on her side. She couldn’t understand how she permitted a man to put his tongue into her mouth yet she didn’t want him to put his head on her pillow.

  A wry smile twisted her mouth as she shifted slightly and stared at the clock on the night table. She’d slept late. It was almost ten in the morning and rainy weather always made her want to linger in bed beyond her usual waking time.

  The hypnotic tapping on the windows, the warmth of the body pressed against hers and the weight of the arm over her waist made her want to spend the morning in bed. But the pressure in her lower belly forced her to reconsider. Grasping Bart’s wrist, she lifted his arm and removed it from her waist. He grunted, shifted onto his left side but didn’t wake up.

  Sitting up and sliding off the mattress, Faye made her way out of the bedroom and down a hallway to the full bathroom. She went through her morning ritual of washing her face and brushing her teeth before sliding back the shower door and stepping into the stall. Plastic bottles of shampoo, conditioner and body wash with labels from Madame Fontaine lined a recessed corner shelf.

  Turning knobs and adjusting the water temperature, she stood under the spray of gentle falling water from a large circular showerhead. She’d just reached for a bottle of shampoo when a draft of air pricked her naked body, raising goose bumps. She wasn’t given the opportunity to react when the chill was replaced by the heat from Bart’s body as he joined her in the stall. Wrapping his arms around her waist, he pulled her back to lean against his chest. She smiled. His moist breath smelled of toothpaste and mouthwash.

  “What are you doing?” Faye asked when she recovered her voice.

  Smiling and lowering his head, Bart pressed his mouth to the nape of her neck. “I did promise to wash your back.”

  Faye inhaled sharply as his hands moved down her belly to the area between her legs. “That’s not my back,” she gasped.

  Bart pressed his mouth to the side of her neck, nipping softly. “I know. But it is the second sexiest part of your body.”

  The softly falling water, the deep crooning voice against her ear and the fingers searching between the folds of her femininity made Faye feel as if she were on the edge of a precipice. She wanted to fall, but the strong arms around her body held her fast.

  She closed her eyes, her breathing deepening. “What’s the first?”

  “The nape of your neck,” he whispered, even though there wasn’t anyone around to overhear them. “Did you know that Japanese men consider the back of the neck an erogenous zone?”

  Forcing air through her parted lips, Faye shook her head. She couldn’t think straight. Not when his thumb had worked its magic on her sensitized clitoris, throbbing as if it had a life of its own. Squeezing her knees together, she imprisoned his hand between her thighs.

  “Stop,” she pleaded. “Please, stop.” She’d begged him to stop when she wanted him to go on, to continue to make her feel as if she had taken leave of her senses, had thrown caution to the wind just to feel good.

  Bart doubted whether he’d be able to control his rising desire. He’d stood outside the shower stall, watching as she stood under the falling water, the droplets sluicing down her brown skin like diamond dust. He’d hardened instantaneously and he had had to wait until his erection went down. She’d asked him to protect her from an unwanted pregnancy when it was the last thing he wanted to do. He wanted to get her pregnant, wanted to watch her belly swell with their child and he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her as his wife.

  It had taken nine years, and a woman with whom he never would’ve thought of sharing his life made him reconsider marriage and fatherhood. It had been so different with Deidre Dunn. Spoiled, rich and used to getting whatever she wanted, she’d pursued him relentlessly. Once he’d gotten over the fact that she was the boss’s daughter, he found himself falling inexorably in love with her. They’d married in what had been called the wedding of the season and settled down to live happily ever after. Their marriage did not survive their twelfth anniversary because Deidre, distraught because of her inability to carry a child to term, had ended her life with an overdose of barbiturates washed down with half a fifth of scotch.

  Faye Ogden wasn’t Deidre and he wasn’t the same Bartholomew Lyndon Houghton he’d been before he walked into Enid’s Soho loft that warm May evening what now seemed aeons ago.

  Turning her around, his fastened his mouth to hers, inhaling her breath. “Do you really want me to stop, Faye?”

  Her firm breasts rose and fell above her rib cage as she sucked in a lungful of air. “No.”

  Releasing her mouth, Bart stared at her trembling lower lip as the flesh between his legs stirred for the second time that morning, growing larger and harder. Wrapping his arms around Faye’s waist, he lifted her off her feet as he fastened his teeth to one nipple, then the other, her soft keening sending shivers up and down his body.

  He took several steps, pressing her back against the wall and anchoring her legs around his waist. Bracing his hands against the wall, he eased her down until she lay on the floor, water beating down on their naked bodies, his face between her legs. He did what he’d wanted to do the first time he took her to bed; he made love to her in the most intimate way possible. He didn’t make love to Faye; he worshipped her flesh as his tongue moved in and out of her vagina in a measured cadence that had him close to exploding; she smelled and tasted sweet. Everything about her had become an aphrodisiac, an addictive substance of which he didn’t believe he would ever tire.

  Faye felt as if Bart had launched an all-out assault on her body and her sanity. Her hands went to the head buried between her legs, trying to extract his mouth. His tongue was doing things to her that made her feel helpless as a newborn. Her head thrashed back and forth as screams of pleasure and frustration merged and exploded, contractions shaking her from head to toe.

  As the secretions flowing from Faye pooled in Bart’s mouth, he was helpless to stem the flow of semen spurting from his penis as he moved up her prone body, thrusting as she writhed against him. He’d wanted to spill his seed inside her and not have it wash down the drain.

  Fingers biting into the flesh on her shoulders, he groaned out the last of his passion as the pulsing in his penis eased then stopped altogether. Collapsing heavily on the slender body under him, Bart bit down on his lower lip.

  Burying his face against the side of her neck, he waited for his heart to stop its pounding. “Why can’t I get enough of you? I don’t ever want to let you go.”

  Faye went completely still. No! her inner voice screamed. Bart wasn’t playing by the rules. He was now more than a client. It was he who’d reminded her that the women he paid to entertain him he usually slept with. He’d paid her, she was sleeping with him and, instead of remaining her client, he’d become her john.

  Her heart felt like a stone in her chest. “Don’t, Bart.”

  Bart came to his feet, turned off the water and pulled Faye up with him. Cradling her face between his hands, he met her tortured gaze. “Don’t what? Don’t want you or don’t love you?” And he did love her, loved her more than any other woman he’d ever met or known in his life.

  His admission was dredged from a place where logic and reason could not coexist. However, when it came to Faye Ogden, Bart Houghton was neither logical nor reasonable.

  She closed her eyes. “It’s not going to work.”

  “Why wouldn’t it work, Faye?”

  Faye opened her eyes, meeting his steady, penetrating state. “I’ve done what I promised myself I wouldn’t do with you. It was never my intention to share a bed with you, Bart.”

  A muscle twitched in his jaw. “Nor mine, but it happened.”

  “You make it sound so simplistic. That it just happened.”

  Bart’s hands went from her face to her upper arms, holding her in a firm grip. “It just didn’t happ
en, Faye. There’s a lot more between us than a social companion and client relationship. And what I want from you goes beyond our arrangement to spend the summer together.”

  “What exactly do you want from me?” Faye asked.

  “Live with me.”

  “I’m already living with you.” Rising on tiptoe, she pressed her mouth to his. “Don’t spoil what we have by asking for more than I’m willing to offer at this time.”

  What I’m willing to offer at this time. Bart nodded. Faye hadn’t rejected him outright, but he knew when to back away, and this was one of those times. He would give Faye the time she wanted and needed to acknowledge that what they had shared superseded their business arrangement.

  Lowering his head, he kissed her. “Will you forgive me for putting pressure on you?”

  Faye flashed a sensual moue. “I will if you wash my back.”

  “Isn’t that why I came in here in the first place?”

  Wrapping her arms around Bart’s trim waist, she rested her head on his chest. “I do remember you saying something like that before you distracted me.”

  “I distracted you? You, my love, distracted me.”

  “I’m not your love, Bart.”

  “You think not?” he asked as he reached for a bath sponge and a bottle of body wash. A knowing smile curved the corners of his mouth when Faye turned and presented him with her back. He swore a solemn oath as he squeezed a dollop of thick rich cream on the sponge. He’d loved and lost once in his lifetime, but now that he’d found Faye Ogden he didn’t plan to lose her, too.