by Berg, Patti
“I didn’t want dinner anyway.” Max kick-started the engine, then turned slightly on the seat, fixing Lauren with a pair of fiery brown eyes. “As for the ruined evening”—he grinned seductively—“you can make everything up to me when I have you for dessert.”
Eighteen
The wind whipped through Lauren’s hair as Max raced the motorcycle down Ocean Highway. Riding without a helmet was foolish and dangerous, but tonight was a night for thrills, for living wild and free.
When they reached a stretch of deserted beach that Lauren knew well, she tapped him on the shoulder. “Stop here.”
Max swerved the Harley into the hard-packed sand at the side of the road. “Some special reason you wanted to stop?” he asked, bracing his feet on the ground when they came to a halt.
“I want to show you something,” she told him, climbing off the bike. She slipped off her heels, dropped them on the ground and walked out onto the soft, cool sand, with Max by her side. “My grandmother—a very frugal woman,” she stated, “gave me twenty dollars for my thirteenth birthday, and my brother talked me into investing it. He said twenty dollars wouldn’t buy much, but I should see what it would get me when I turned eighteen.” She looked about her, at the beautiful spans of beach, and smiled. “This is what I ended up with.”
“Pretty smart investing,” Max said, draping his arm over her shoulder as they walked toward the water.
“I just followed Jack’s advice. He made a killing in the stock market when he was in his early twenties. You’d never know it, considering the rundown ranch house he lives in, but he’s happy.”
“Money and happiness don’t always go hand in hand.”
“I’ve found that out more than once. Still, I’d like to have them both.”
Max laughed. “Yeah, for some reason I don’t picture you as a contented housewife living in suburbia.”
“I’d rather be a contented housewife living on a stretch of beach like this,” she admitted, and hoped she hadn’t been too blatant. She was falling in love, and it was difficult to keep her feelings to herself. “I like it here because it’s close enough to Palm Beach to go shopping at a moment’s notice, and far enough away that you don’t feel like you’re being watched—and judged—all the time.”
“You don’t mind giving up that monstrosity you live in?”
She shook her head. “All I need is a place that’s big enough for a nice-sized family, but not so big that it feels lonely and empty when you’re the only one inside.”
“Do you get lonely?” he asked, squeezing her arm, drawing her close. She stretched her hands around his waist.
“I think everybody gets lonely at times.”
“I’m not interested in everybody, Lauren,” he said, stopping in the sand and turning her to face him. “I want to know if you get lonely.”
“You know what it’s like to be alone—”
“We’re not talking about me,” he said, his fingers digging into her arms. “I asked about you.”
“Yes, I get lonely. I hated being raised by a nanny, hated getting shoved off to one school after another because my mother didn’t have time for me, or because she’d married someone new who didn’t want a kid around. The only constant I’ve had in my life is Charles, and even though I love him dearly, it’s not often that a butler gives you a hug. I’ve got a brother I love, but he lives out west and we didn’t see each other all that much.”
She bit her lip, trying not to cry. “But the loneliest times of my life were during my marriages. I thought my husbands would love me, I thought I’d have children... but I was wrong on both counts.”
And then she saw the concern and warmth in Max’s eyes that wiped away the torments of her past. “I don’t feel lonely when I’m with you,” she whispered.
He cradled her face in his hands. “I’m going to make sure you’re never lonely again,” he said, and then he kissed her, and all thoughts of loneliness disappeared.
Slowly he lowered her to the sand and moved his marvelous body over hers. They were going to make love—at last—just what she’d hoped for when she’d asked him to stop at this stretch of beach.
His heated gaze raked across her mouth, a passion that made her body flame inside. She dragged in a deep breath when his hands moved over her breasts, when he kneaded them gently, and a low moan escaped through her lips when his thumbs swirled over her sensitive nipples.
Moonlight shone on his jet-black hair, and she wove her fingers into the long unruly strands, pulling him tighter, tighter, allowing her tongue to explore and taste the sweetness of his mouth.
She’d never known a thrill like this, something so exciting and blissful that she never wanted it to end.
But it did—all too soon.
“What’s wrong?” Lauren stammered, trying to regain her senses, to understand what had caused such an abrupt halt to their lovemaking.
“I don’t want you on the beach,” Max said, pulling her up from the sand and into his arms. His hands were in her hair as if he couldn’t bear to let her go, and his mouth stayed close to her as he said, “I want you behind closed doors. Locked doors. I want to strip away every speck of your clothing and then I want to take my time just looking at you.”
That sounded so very nice, but she wanted so much more. “You will touch me, too, I hope?”
“Oh, I plan to touch you, Lauren, with my fingers, my tongue, my entire body. Before I’m through, I want to kiss every single part of you that I’m able to touch. And the last thing I want is for someone to intrude on what I’m doing.”
“I’ve got strong locks on the doors at home. I’ve got a bottle of chilled champagne, and I’ve got chocolates.”
“Going back to that monstrosity you live in and meeting up with Gerald and your mother is the last thing I want to do.”
“We can’t go to your place. Not with the kids there, and Jazz.”
“That’s not what I had in mind.”
“Then what?”
His grin frightened and excited her all at the same time. “You’ll see.”
They dashed across the sand to the motorcycle, tugged on their shoes, and once again they were racing up the highway, angling inland at a cross street that didn’t look at all familiar, toward some mysterious destination. They sped past car dealerships and bright neon signs, until they came to a stop in the parking lot of the Fantasy Inn, a gigantic structure that looked like something straight out of the Arabian Nights.
“This doesn’t exactly look like the Ritz,” Lauren quipped.
“It’s not even close.” There was a little too much humor in his voice for comfort.
“You don’t really expect me to sleep in this establishment, do you?”
“Sleep’s the furthest thing from my mind.”
“It’s not on my mind, either, but I thought we’d go someplace a little classier the first time around. It wouldn’t take us all that long to get to the Breakers, we could rent a suite, we could have room service brought in.”
“I don’t want to go to the Breakers. I want to stay here.”
“It looks... Goodness, Max! It looks like one of those places where people stop for a quickie.”
“Looks are sometimes deceiving. A week or so ago you might have thought I was the kind of guy who only liked quickies, but I assure you, I’m not.”
“I’m sure you’re not that kind of guy at all, but I’ve got a lot of uncomfortable feelings about the inside of this place. I keep picturing vibrating beds, mirrored ceilings, porno flicks on the TV, and condom machines in the bathrooms.”
“The bed’s going to vibrate enough without running up the electric bill, I’ve got condoms in my pocket, and the closest thing we’re going to get to a porno flick is you and me dancing naked.”
“You neglected to comment on the mirrored ceilings.”
“I’ve never been here before, but I’m hoping to find mirrors not only on the ceiling but on the walls.” His fingers slid slowly up to her hip. “I wa
nt to see you as well as touch you, Lauren.”
“Oh, dear.”
He grinned, his mindset not the least bit altered by her hesitation. “Come on,” he said, tugging her from the motorcycle and rushing her toward the office.
“Don’t you think the proprietor will wonder why we don’t have luggage?” she asked.
“No.”
“I don’t even have a nightgown with me.”
“You don’t need one.”
“You’re determined to drag me into this place, aren’t you?”
“I’m determined to have you... period.”
She felt extremely awkward walking into the lobby, a garish place where brightly colored fringed carpets had been suspended from the ceiling. An elderly gentleman in flowing robes and a turban appeared from a back room, pushing through a red velvet curtain to greet them. “How may I assist you?”
Max gripped Lauren’s hand a little tighter. “We’d like a room.”
He looked from Max to Lauren then back to Max again. Lauren despised the man’s lascivious smirk, hated the fact that he knew what they were up to because, goodness, they’d come into this establishment without even a toothbrush—a very sinful thing indeed!
“I have several rooms to choose from,” he said, opening a picture book in front of them. “Two of our favorites, Blackbeard and Jungle Fever, are already taken this evening. Some of our smaller rooms are available, such as Night Eyes and Swaying Palms. However, I believe the two of you might enjoy our ultimate fantasy room, Sheik’s Delight.”
“We’ll take it.” Max plunked a credit card down on the counter and filled out the paperwork shoved in front of him. The man handed Max the key and gave them directions to the room, and a moment later Max was leading Lauren through a twisting corridor lit with fake candles sticking out of Aladdin-type lamps. The elevator was lined in burgundy crushed velvet, an ominous precursor of things to come, and it climbed slowly toward the fourth floor. When the door opened, only one room appeared on the landing before them.
Sheik’s Delight.
She couldn’t believe she was doing this. She believed it even less when Max opened the door and she stepped inside. She was stunned by what appeared before her. “This definitely isn’t the Ritz.”
Max closed the door and leaned against it, arms folded across his chest, watching her as she inspected the room. The bed looked as if it were designed for an orgy. Big, round, it was laden with tasseled pillows in bright reds, blues, and yellows, and the entire thing was draped with yards and yards of sheer white fabric. The ceiling was painted midnight-blue, with large mirrors in the shapes of stars and a moon affixed overhead. She caught a quick glimpse of Max, who was eyeing the overhead mirrors, an extremely satisfied grin on his face.
Oriental carpets and even more pillows were strewn across the floors, and at one end of the room was an oasis, a rocky waterfall and pool, surrounded by palms—real ones in pots, not some tacky plastic things coated in dust.
As quirky as the place was... all of a sudden she couldn’t think of a more perfect spot to make love.
“What do you think?” Max asked, the need to have her growing by leaps and bounds with every second that passed.
She turned slowly, the softness of her smile highlighted by the dim lights “I think we should stop talking and get back to what we started on the beach.”
He crossed the room and pulled her against him, the wait to know her, to feel her, to see all that he’d imagined finally over. There were so many things he wanted to say to her, but they had to wait. Crushing her wonderfully soft breasts against his chest, he captured her mouth.
He felt the searing heat of her fingers on his cheeks, sinking into his hair, holding him so close he could barely breathe, but that didn’t seem necessary. Her kiss breathed life into him, hope, happiness, emotions he couldn’t remember ever feeling with a woman.
His hands swept over her back. Tugging on the sheer fabric of her dress, he pulled it up to her waist and let his hands roam over her smooth, warm, and naked bottom. His fingers dug into her skin and her kiss deepened, her tongue swirling around his, her mouth sucking on him, and a moan escaped his throat.
“God, Lauren.”
She came to a screeching halt. “I haven’t done anything wrong, have I?”
He shook his head, looking at the worry, the fright in her eyes. “What makes you think that?”
“I did everything wrong with Peter. I was lousy in bed. I was too fat.”
“You’re perfect, and Peter was a fool.” He breathed the words against her lips. “I don’t want to hear about any other men. They don’t exist and as far as I’m concerned, I’m the only man you’ve ever known.” He cradled her face in his hands. “Do you understand that?”
She nodded.
“Now kiss me again.”
She did, and he could feel the saltiness of her tears on his lips. They should have stopped him, made him slow down, but instead they fueled the flame inside him and made him want to give her more love than she’d ever had in her entire life.
Grasping the hem of her dress he pulled it higher, higher, tearing his mouth from the heat of her kiss to tug the silky fabric over her head. He drew in a deep breath as he looked at her. “You’re beautiful,” he whispered, and watched a soft smile brighten her face.
Slowly he slipped the bright red straps of her bra from her shoulders and pressed a lingering kiss to the hollow of her throat, where he could smell her perfume, taste the heat of her body, feel the blood pulsing through her veins.
Her head tilted back and a gentle purr whirred beneath her lips. Her passion, her excitement, drove him wild, making him feel powerful, but he knew the moment she touched him again, he’d fall completely under her control. She could do anything to him, anything at all.
Resting his hands on her hips, he slid his tongue along the lacy edge of her bra, listening to her moan, feeling her needful quiver. His palms skimmed lightly around her waist, up the curve of her spine until he found the catch of her bra. In a matter of seconds, he’d freed her luscious breasts.
The silk drifted from his fingers to the floor, while his mouth, his lips, his tongue grazed her nipples, nipping, teasing, until she touched him, pressing her hand to the hard, needy length of him. His body shuddered. He nearly lost his ability to hold on when he felt her fingers slide over him, felt her grasp his buckle.
Taking it slow with Lauren had become an impossibility. He gripped the backs of her thighs and pulled her legs upward, wrapping them about his waist, and carried her to a bed full of pillows.
The green of her eyes glowed like emeralds as he ripped back the covers and laid her down. She held her hands out to him, beckoning him to come to her, but first he removed his jacket, his shirt, nearly ripping off the buttons in his need to make her his. He dropped his boots to the floor, stripped off his socks, then reached into the pocket of his slacks and pulled out the foil packets, dropping them on the bedside table.
In another moment he was free of every stitch of clothing, and his body burned as she pushed herself up on her elbows and studied him.
“I never knew a man could be so beautiful,” she said, and he managed to laugh while he panted, trying to catch his breath.
The only thing between them was a skimpy piece of red silk, but he had no intention of letting it get in his way. Sliding his fingers beneath the slip of fabric, he drew her panties slowly down her legs, loving the curve of them, the velvety softness of her skin, the fact that when he let the thong drop to the floor, the only thing keeping them apart was a few feet of air. And he closed that space in a heartbeat.
“I’ve dreamed of you this way,” he said, while his hands, his fingers, his lips, and tongue explored her curves and the very center of her where she was hot and slippery and ready to be loved.
And just as he promised, he kissed nearly every inch of her, his desire and excitement building with each of her sighs.
And when he thought he couldn’t hold on any longer
, he captured her mouth and kissed her tenderly. “I want you.”
“I know,” she whispered, and then, dear God, he felt her fingers slide between them and circle him tightly, the gentle pressure making him swell with a need that was beyond his wildest imagination.
Rolling onto his back, he carried her with him. She lay on top of him then slowly swirled her tongue down the length of his body, stopping just where he wanted her for the moment.
Her mouth was hot and wet and she did incredible things with her lips, her teeth, and her tongue, driving him mad. “Do you like that?” she asked, raising her head to look at him.
Strands of her hair had fallen over her face, turning her into a wild creature toying with her prey.
He groaned as she suckled him, as her torturous fingernails raked over his chest.
“Keep that up and you’re not going to know what all I can do to you.”
She laughed as she straddled him, her breasts swaying in front of his face.
He reached for them, kneading her glorious flesh, while she leaned across the bed, grabbed a foil pouch, and ripped it open. Slowly, ever so slowly, she rolled the sheath over him.
“I’ve never done that before,” she said, smiling.
“What part of that haven’t you done before?” he asked, surprised at her comment.
“I never put a condom on a man, and I never ... She licked her lips, and God, he thought he’d explode. “I never wanted to taste a man—until now.”
If it was possible to grow another two or three inches in both length and diameter, Max swore it could have just happened.
“I’ve never done this before, either,” she said, holding his hot, stiff penis and guiding him into the tightness of her sweet, blessed warmth.
“Oh, dear!” Her eyes were closed, her breathing labored, and he reached again for her breasts, loving the cry that erupted from her lips.
Slowly, tentatively, she pushed upward, then came back down again, and he watched the smile on her lips. Again and again she moved, up, down, up, down. Her hips swirled, moving around and around until she found exactly the right angle, and then she rode him hard and fast, while he watched the feverish ecstasy in her face.