He had squeezed himself between racks of hanging merchandise in the night-black front room so he could look out the window without being seen. “I’ll be there, honey.” For the moment, what he saw through the night-vision goggles interested him more than the woman waiting to fuck him. “You know you bought these for yourself, anyway.” Paul laughed and kept his attention on Hungry Eyes.
“You were real late,” Cerise said. “I thought you’d decided not to come. You think long and hard before doin’ that to me. I could make your life real difficult.”
He had learned to keep any anger to himself—not that he got angry often. Cerise pushed him too hard, but that was all part of the attraction, her demands, her imagination and her bone-crunching energy.
Joe and Ellie operated in the dark with the blinds pulled up. Paul figured it was as hot over there as it was here so they’d opened the windows. Joe had carried Ellie to the bedroom and Paul had seen when Mr. Squeaky Clean Attorney followed the woman into bed. So far they hadn’t moved much but he figured that would change soon enough.
Mmm-mmm-mmm, who would have thought the mousy little book lady had all that under her ugly dresses. He had expected them to go right at it against the couch.
“Paul. That’s it. I’m comin’ to get you.”
“Don’t blow it, Cerise. Don’t let any light show in here.” God, he was sweating and he had a hard-on he’d have to get taken care of.
“Paul loves his nasty glasses.” Cerise had crawled through the darkness and wrapped herself around his legs. She stuffed a hot little hand up one leg of his boxers, exposed the part of him she liked best, and put her eye to its tip. “What do I see in here? More to the point, what do I feel here?” She giggled and took him in her mouth. Paul pushed her away, ready for her to fight him. When she let go with her mouth, she said, “Who’s a hard boy, a ready boy? C’mon. Come with Cerise.” She smacked his rear hard and used her fingernails. Paul shoved her hard.
No action showed in the bedroom. Too bad. That was the most fun he’d had with the new toy.
He removed the glasses and tucked them under the lid of a trunk. He bent to pick Cerise up by her thighs. Facing him, with her calves gripping his head and her face exactly where it belonged, he walked carefully into the windowless box room with her big breasts bouncing against his belly at every step. She beat at the backs of his thighs. Cerise had turned the room into the perfect night spot—or any-time-of-day spot if the opportunity presented itself.
Once they were shut inside he let Cerise fall onto the pillow-strewn mattress on the floor, stripped off his shorts and climbed to sit behind her head. A plasma screen covered a large section of one wall and she’d paused a disk in the player.
Frozen in place and about life-size, the stud in the porn flick had just torn the crotch out of a woman’s black panty hose. Paul noted her sweater was pulled up above huge, oiled breasts. She wore white shoes with her black hose.
“With the door open, the light from that thing could be enough to give us away,” he pointed out.
She stretched out on her back with her arms above her head, rocked from side to side to make her boobs sway, and reached for him. “Fuss, fuss, fuss. C’mon down here.”
He moved what she wanted away. He’d rather give it into her tender loving care, but tonight they’d work for whatever pleased them.
Cerise had a good body and it was naked, the way he liked his women to be at all times if possible, with the exception of Jilly. With Jilly it was something different from anything he’d felt with a woman before.
“Did you bring the stuff?” Cerise said. “You promised.”
“Couldn’t get it. Next time, though.” He rolled Cerise onto her stomach, sat astride her back and slapped her behind until she squirmed and giggled—and finally shrieked. Cerise could be trusted to suck up the unexpected and she believed in payback. Fucking wonderful payback. He pushed his face between her thighs, lifted her hips and found her very hot button with his teeth and tongue.
“Oh, Paul,” she cried. “No, you bastard, I’m not ready…Oh, shit, oh, yeah, yeah.”
Seconds of squirming and sobbing and she fell limp. It never took long.
The remote had managed to remain on the mattress. He clicked the disk on again and scooted to sit on the pillows with a foot on either side of Cerise’s head.
“Why were you so late, baby?” she asked, her voice muffled.
She never let a gripe drop. “I told you I showed up in the square right behind half the town, including Spike. I think some of them thought I came from Rosebank with him.”
“How would they think that when you were on your scooter?”
“I parked it in your shed out back of this place like I always do.”
Cerise raised her head and shoulders and crossed her arms on the mattress. “But you didn’t hurry in to me.” Her lips glistened and her pale breasts shone. “You just had to go see what was up at Ellie’s shop. So her window got broken. Big deal. When did you turn into Spider-Man?”
Paul took a length of her blond hair and wound it in and out through his fingers. “Father Cyrus saw me. What would he have thought if I didn’t help out?”
“Now you find religion. That’s dandy.”
He pulled her hair lightly. “I never lost it. And you’re a bad girl to tell me what I should or shouldn’t do.” Remembering how he’d felt compelled to tell Cyrus about his love life made Paul squirm. Some things got ground into you when you were a kid and never completely went away.
“Paul,” Cerise said in a little-girl voice. Her big blue eyes shone with amusement. “I’ve got an idea for you. A new guide- book. Nelson’s Way to this, that and whatever is a big success. It has to be. I can tell you’re rolling in it. How about Nelson’s Way to the best fucking orgasm you ever had?” Her knees were bent, her ankles crossed in the air, and she scissored them absently. “I could be your research helper. Whenever you get stumped, I’ll help you figure out the next move.”
“Cute,” he said. He’d produced twenty volumes of the Nelson’s Way books and wished he never had to look at another one of them.
The games must begin. Time to woo his way back into the lady’s graces. “A little waiting for the main event can be a good thing,” he told her. “Makes a man a whole lot hungrier.”
“Show me.”
This time he tugged her hair until her head tipped backward. “See?” he said, pinching her nipples hard. “I’m hungry.” Flinging her, yelling and kicking, to her back and holding her shoulders down with his knees, he rocked forward and flicked his tongue deep between her legs. When she jerked, he laughed. She writhed and moaned. Teasing her, bringing her close to the edge, then depriving her of his tongue for seconds at a time, he enjoyed the spectacle of her voluptuous body squirming and seeking release. Finally she finished what he’d started herself. She slammed her rear up and down on the mattress and the jiggling of her breasts mesmerized him.
He let her go.
Wild, throwing herself at him without warning, Cerise slapped his face and screamed with laughter when he yelped.
She didn’t stop. Slapping and pinching, she attacked him, squirmed around and slid out of reach of his hands, and punished him.
“Hey,” he said, striking at her and missing. “Look what you did.” With her long, sharp fingernails she’d made his wrist bleed hard.
“Oh, come on, baby. You can handle it. I couldn’t have caused that all on my own.”
He threw up an arm, the arm with the wounded wrist and snapped, “Ellie’s window got smashed in—I got cut on the glass. Watch the face, bitch!”
She kissed his mouth but kept on pinching him and laughing in her throat. Paul wrestled her arms behind her. Cerise liked pain.
Moving so fast that he flinched, she slithered to grip his waist and take him in deep enough for him to feel the back of her throat—before he stopped knowing just what he felt anymore.
Her head bobbed and his eyes closed. He let his knees fall wide
apart. She teased, speeded up, slowed down, took her lips away then attacked all over again. He panted and felt the stinging work her nails had done.
The movie played patterns of dark and light over his eyelids. The sound had been muted. He squinted at the screen, at the stud’s member playing hide-and-seek through torn black panty hose.
Paul turned the movie off. His skin prickled. Cerise went after her task in a frenzy. She looked up at him, frowning, and used her hands on him.
Goddammit, he’d never had any trouble. He felt himself slacken in her fingers. He was losing it.
She was too demanding, that was it. He’d worked hard and ended up tired out, but she didn’t have what it took to tune in to how he felt and what he needed.
“What’s wrong?” Cerise said. “Put the movie back on.”
“I don’t want the movie back on. I’ve seen it before, several times, and so have you.”
“When did that ever matter?”
“Give it a little rest,” he told her. “You’re too pushy and you’re turning me off.”
Cerise rose over him, her eyes narrowed and angry. She raised a hand to hit him again but he caught her wrist the moment before she would have slapped his face. “What’s the only rule around here?” he asked, and heard the menace in his own voice. Good. He felt menacing.
She looked away. “Never touch the face. We never mark each other’s faces.”
“That’s right. So how come you were about to forget?”
Cerise settled herself on the mattress again, curled on her side this time with her cheek in his crotch. “You made me mad.”
“We always get mad. Some of the best sex happens when we’re mad. No excuse to go for the face.”
“I won’t do it again.”
She cradled his balls, inclined her head so she could lick them. “Mmm-mmm, you taste good. Salty and sweet all mixed up together. Paul, I need to talk to you.”
Shit. If there was one thing he detested it was women who thought conversation was part of a good fuck. He liked her aggressive participation, but he didn’t want to listen to her dumb ideas, or her declarations of love. He really hated that.
“Paul, baby?”
“Talk.” He entertained himself watching her treat his balls like a breakable work of art—like the androgynous crease between a Chihuly cherub’s glass legs. He was at full mast again.
“You’ve got money and I’ve got money. That’s not a revelation.”
He squinted down at her. “So?”
She stroked him. “We could do very well together.”
Laughing wouldn’t get him what he wanted and that was to make sure she didn’t hang on to her fantasy for long. “A cottage with a white picket fence?” he said. “And babies?”
“You don’t like babies?”
“Other people’s children are just fine. I’m not the settling-down kind.”
Cerise let him go and her fingers curled tightly.
“Come on,” he said, stroking her shoulders. “Be honest with yourself. You’re a playgirl. You were made for the good times, not to turn into a bored housewife.” Or his wife, and he knew that’s what she’d just asked for. Just one woman would fill that bill and she couldn’t be more different from this one.
Jilly looked at him with love. He felt hot at the thought. But that’s what she did and he wanted to be with her. She was good for him in ways he couldn’t explain to anyone. A sweet, funny, gentle girl. Sweet to hold, and straightforward. She didn’t have an agenda other than to see where the future took them. It couldn’t lead to this, his need for a mixture of secrecy and sex that got wild. That’s why, when he figured out how to get Jilly for good, he would have to be sure he had the kind of diversions he needed. If she ever found out…he’d lose her.
“Paul,” Cerise whispered. “I’d love to know you belonged to me. We’re a match. Couldn’t that be enough for you?”
He patted her head. “We’re a great match and we’re wasting time talking.”
She sat up. “Did you talk to Jilly yet? Did you tell her it’s all over between you?”
“I never promised to do that,” he said quietly while he felt his temper rise.
She dug her fingernails into his thigh. “Yes, you did. I told you I wouldn’t take being the whore to the ice maiden anymore. What did you think that meant if it wasn’t that I expect to be first and only with you?”
“I thought it meant you were jealous.”
“Damn you.” She hit his face. “Damn you, Paul Nelson. You’re making me so pissed off. Get rid of her, I tell you, or I will.” Once more she drew back her arm and slapped him as hard as she could.
“Stop it,” he told her. “Now.” He didn’t dare lose his temper. She wanted him to fight back again, to mark her this time. Then they’d both turn bruised faces to the world and someone would put the pieces together soon enough.
“Deal with Jilly Gable or I’ll tell her what you get up to with me.”
His control shattered. Roughly, he caught her behind the neck and shoved her face into his lap. “Open your mouth. You need comfort.” Again he ground her face against him. “Do it. I’ll comfort you. Suck baby, suck. You’ve got your very own pacifier. Now, please me and learn a lesson. No woman gets the better of me.”
Cerise did as she was told and he could tell the moment when excitement stopped her from being angry. He came in her mouth and she swallowed, raised her face to grin at him while she wiped her lips.
Just the sight of her infuriated him. Grabbing her by the shoulders, he forced her, facedown, on the mattress and stuffed a pillow under her belly.
“Paul,” she said, her voice thin. That was all she said.
He took her from behind—his favorite angle because he could drive harder and faster with his thighs between Cerise’s while he used his hands to move her in opposition to his body. She came but he didn’t miss a beat. Speeding the rate he kept going at her until she cried out for him to stop.
All part of the game.
At last he paused and fell to his back. He had to rest his legs, and if he wasn’t dry he ought to be.
Cerise crawled up beside him, then eased herself on top of his body. “You’re the best,” she told him. “Whatever happens, I can’t bear to lose you.”
He didn’t feel like talking.
“We can keep on seeing each other. Having fun.” She hugged him and kissed his face. Cerise didn’t usually do much kissing and that suited him.
“I thought you were going to tell Jilly about us,” he said.
She laughed—not a convincing sound. “I was pushing to see if I could get my way with you. Now I know I can’t and I like that better. I’ll always know where I am with you.”
What the hell? “You’re a good fuck, Cerise. The best. But you’ve got to be a good girl or it won’t work anymore.”
“I’ll be good,” she said, rubbing herself against him. “I’m already being good, so would you do what you just did—again?”
18
Tomorrow, Ellie thought, she’d be able to open the shop again. Two days without the diversion of work had been too long. Folks stopped by, one after the other, to bring food they’d prepared or to offer help. Ellie loved them for it, but each of them wanted news and even if she wanted to, she had nothing to share with them.
The people Marc Girard had found to replace the window had worked fast and well. It saddened her that several of the leaded panes hadn’t made it through in one piece, but squares of glass in solid colors didn’t look out of place.
“Spike told you to bring me and go straight to the church?” Joe said, ducking his head to look through the windshield of the Jeep toward St. Cécile’s. “You’re sure of that?” Darkness had fallen.
Ellie turned in the passenger seat and watched him put on the emergency brake. “The church,” she said. “A thing like that kind of sticks in your mind.”
“True,” he said, making no attempt to get out of the vehicle. They had parked on the strip by the
rectory. “Just seems funny Gautreaux would want to meet us here.”
It seemed more than funny to Ellie. “You’ve said that several times. Spike didn’t say why.” She thought a moment. “Does Spike seem okay to you?”
“I guess so,” Joe said, screwing up his eyes. “He isn’t lettin’ up on this case. One good thing is he’s gettin’ funds to fill more posts. And they’ve sent him help from all over…He does look kinda rumpled some of the time. No, he doesn’t seem okay. He’s uptight, but that’s probably on account of havin’ NOPD breathin’ down his neck.”
“You could be right,” she said. She hoped he was, but what she felt in Spike was something sad and worried and she didn’t know how or if she should try to help him.
Joe pushed back her hair. He touched her naturally, and often. Last night he had arrived with a dinner Jilly had cooked. Ellie smelled the spices as soon as he started up the stairs. A quiet meal followed by several hours when he’d worked in the other apartment, then he’d returned and made up a bed on her living room couch. Their first night together hadn’t been mentioned again.
Waking up beside him had startled her, but then she’d settled on her side, facing him, and pretended to sleep. From behind the hand curled loosely in front of her face, she had watched his eyes open, seen him turn his head on the pillow to look at her, and his smile when he lifted his head to study her. She would never forget that moment, or the care with which he’d left the bed because he tried not to disturb her. She wouldn’t forget how he’d looked walking across her bedroom, either.
In the intimacy of the Jeep, they looked at each other and she wondered if he was thinking about what had happened between the two of them. Joe continued to slide her short curls through his fingers.
Daisy hadn’t been herself since the glass-breaking episode. Ellie figured she’d pulled some muscles. Daisy had switched her allegiance to Joe and seemed content to lie close to him. The dog found comfort being with the man. Ellie smiled to herself. Smart dog: that’s exactly how Ellie felt about Joe.
“What’s making you smile?” Joe asked. “No, don’t stop doing it. You’ve been a pretty serious woman lately—not that I’m surprised. I feel pretty serious myself.”
Now You See Him Page 15