The Way U Look Tonight

by Dianne Castell

  She held up a brown bag. “I’m going to cook dinner. Fried catfish, okra, hush puppies, apple cobbler and a jug of something called white lightning from Leroy, butcher at that market. He said it was your favorite.”

  “Leroy only sells lightning to his best friends.”

  Georgette winked. “I charmed him.”

  And from the way she looked—and acted—Digger was sure Leroy had been charmed right out of his socks. Digger was.

  Keefe put his hammer in the open toolbox. “I’m going to let you two eat.”

  Georgette said, “Why don’t you and Callie join us for dinner?”

  “I’m heading over to Slim’s to test Demar’s ribs. He’s no Slim yet, but he’s getting there. I’m doing the taste test.” He patted his stomach. “Tough job but someone’s got to do it.” Keefe walked off, and Georgette stood beside Digger and Frenched him in the ear. “Howdy,” she breathed in a sultry voice, setting every part of his body on high alert.

  “I’m hot and dirty.”

  “Bet your lips aren’t dirty. Let me taste and see.” She ran her tongue over them. “See, no dirt.” She plunged her tongue into his mouth, meeting his, mating with his. “See,” she said again, her lips on his, the bag of groceries keeping them apart. “No dirt anywhere.”

  “I need a shower, Georgette, then . . . Then we can do whatever you want.”

  “I’ll tell you what I want, big boy. I want fried catfish and all the trimmings and then ...” She slid her tongue into his mouth again. “I want you for dessert. I have whipped cream and cherries. I have big plans for the cherries. How does hide and seek sound?”

  “Holy hell.”

  She kissed him, then turned for the stairs. His dick was as hard as the upright holding the Lee together. How was he supposed to shower? He couldn’t get his pants off without doing himself permanent damage. He tried to slow his heart, his breathing, soften up his dick by thinking of all the work he had to do on the Lee. He hobbled up the stairs past the kitchen area with the door open and Georgette singing some tune about whatever Georgette wants, Georgette gets and little Georgette wants you. She winked as he went by, and he walked right into the chest with all the props on top, the sudden pain not diminishing his desires one bit.

  She said, “Want me to kiss you and make it all better?”

  “No.” He held up his hands in surrender, taking steps away from her. “That will not make me better. No more kissing till I can do it right.”

  She pulled the top from the jug of white lightning, held the cork up and licked it, her tongue going slowly from bottom to top. “You mean, do me right?”

  “Ah, hell, Georgette.” If he didn’t get out of here right now, he’d take her right on the kitchen floor and not give one hoot how dirty he was.

  He showered in record time, trying to ignore his aroused state, concentrating on the aroma of fried catfish and hush puppies. He didn’t succeed. As much as he looked forward to the food he looked forward to having Georgette a hell of a lot more. He pulled on jeans that he could barely zip and shrugged into a T-shirt. Barefoot and horny, he came into the kitchen area. She had a tray loaded with food and handed it to him. “Can you take these things outside? I set places.” She brought the white lightning and glasses and followed him. “Have a nice shower?”

  “No.”

  “That’s because I wasn’t there to help you out.” He nearly dropped the whole damn tray thinking of Georgette in the shower with him. Wobbling, he set the tray down, then parked in a chair. Georgette sat beside him, and he loaded the catfish on his plate along with everything else and said, “It’s a beautiful evening.” He took a bite of the fish. “This is great. I really appreciate you cooking for me.”

  She winked. “Wait till you see what else I do for you.”

  He choked. “Georgette, if you keep this up—”

  “I’m betting it stays up all by itself, Digger. Can I take a little peek?”

  “That’s it.” He tossed his napkin on the table, stood, yanked back Georgette’s chair and scooped her into his arms. “Where are we going, Digger?” she giggled.

  “Bed. Now. You’re driving me crazy.”

  She wrapped her arms around him, kissing him on the neck. “I’m so glad.”

  He went down the hall, kicked open the door to his room, thankful he hadn’t fixed the latch, and dropped her onto the middle of his bed. He yanked off his shirt.

  “Don’t stop there.”

  His hands stilled on the waistband of his jeans. “I won’t if you won’t.”

  “Silly boy, I haven’t even started.” She stood in the middle of his bed then kicked off her sandals, and they plopped onto the floor. “Got a quarter?”

  “Why?”

  “Amuse me.”

  “I intend to do a hell of a lot more than that.” But he got a quarter from his dresser and tossed it to her.

  “Heads or tails? We’ll flip to see who takes off what next.” She tossed the quarter into the air, caught it and flipped it over on her arm, keeping her palm on top so they couldn’t see the coin. “Call it.”

  “Heads.”

  She pulled back her hand. “Tails. Guess that means I lose my top.” She undid the knot at the back of her neck, letting the material fall forward, revealing her incredible breasts.

  He gulped air as she undid the one snap at her back that held the top in place, and it fell onto the bed . . . exactly what he wanted to do.

  She flipped the coin again. “I call it this time. Tails.” She pulled her hand away showing heads. She crooked her finger at him. “Jeans please.”

  He yanked them off, leaving him in blue briefs. She said, “I can’t wait to see what’s underneath. Oh, it’s moving; it must want out. What do you think?”

  Think? He couldn’t. She flipped again, and he caught the quarter midair, tackled her around the waist, and they collapsed onto the bed. She laughed as she landed on top of him. “Cheaters never prosper,” she taunted.

  “Wanna bet. I think I’m prospering real good here.”

  Her eyes danced with excitement. “I want you to tie me up, Digger, and make wild passionate love to me.”

  His eyes bulged. “I can’t do that, honey. It just isn’t in me.”

  “We did a little spanky and that was fun, right?”

  He felt himself blush head to toe remembering his hand on her lovely rear. “Yeah.” he sighed. “It was really great but. . . bondage?”

  “No, no, no. Not that, this is more like teasing. Here, let me show you what I want you to do to me.” She removed her shorts and sat on his chest, a knee on either side, the heat from her sex searing his abs through the skimpy excuse she had for panties . . . and such fine panties they were. She took his hand and brought it to the old ironwork that was his headboard. “Hold on there and give me your other hand so you know exactly what I want you to do to me.”

  Right now he’d give her anything she wanted. She guided his hand into position. She gazed down at him. “There, that’s not bad, is it?”

  “Well, no but—”

  “Ohmygod, there’s someone coming.” She pointed out the window.

  “Where?” He looked but didn’t see anyone, and instead of an answer from Georgette he felt something tighten around his wrists with a decisive click. His eyes fused to Georgette’s, and he pulled his hands, but they wouldn’t come free. “What the hell are you doing? I’m handcuffed to my own bed.”

  “Well, you just admitted it wasn’t bad.”

  “Georgette!”

  “And it’s for a good cause.”

  “Georgette!”

  “I want you to have fun.” She ran her fingers through her hair, scattering it in all directions, making her look hot and wild and wanting. “I found the handcuffs on the chest coming up the stairs, and I couldn’t resist.”

  “Resist what.”

  She leaned over, bracing her arms on either side of his head, her lovely nipples skimming his chest. He watched them bead into firm nubs from rubbing a
gainst his coarse hair. And he’d thought he was turned on before. Watching her body become aroused was the biggest turn-on of all.

  “I couldn’t resist making you mine.” She brushed her mouth over his. “All mine, all your best parts, for me to explore at my leisure tonight.” She kissed him.

  He wanted to say something, but right at the moment with Georgette’s tongue in his mouth he couldn’t talk. She broke the kiss, and he said, “I’m yours, I swear. You don’t have to convince me. I’m not running away.”

  She stood over him, giving him a great view of the red spot of silk covering her. She jumped to the floor and gazed at him, then plucked the waistband of his briefs. “Well, we sure don’t need these old things.” She slid his briefs over his hips, his erection free for her inspection. She touched him, and he gritted his teeth and sucked in a quick breath.

  “I can only stand so much of that.”

  “You’re right. No hands. But you have so many delicious parts, and I want to brand them all as mine and no one else’s. I bet there’s something in the kitchen that I can use for that. Don’t go away.”

  “I’ve been tied up by a comedian.”

  She winked. “Closer to an artist. Just you wait.” She went off, and he relaxed a little. He had a magic marker in the kitchen, and letting Georgette draw on him would be fun. He could handle that. She came back, her hands behind her back. “Guess what I found?”

  “The markers.”

  “A can of whipped cream. Now, where do you suppose that came from? I love whipped cream. One of my favorite foods.”

  “Georgette, this is a really bad idea. How much control do you think I have? I’m not Superman.”

  She peered at his erection. “Looks pretty super to me. But there are other parts.” She turned the can upside down, shaking it. “You have great abs, you know that. I’m going to mark them as my very own.” She pressed the side of the nozzle, and a neat GC in whipped cream decorated his stomach.

  He closed his eyes, fighting for restraint. “I can’t do this.”

  “And you have a very fine chest.” She added GC to his pecs. “And your lips. Oh, you have the most wonderful lips.” His lips were decorated with whipped cream. He licked and suddenly asked, “How are you going to get rid of all this whipped cream?”

  She added a dollop to her index finger and slid it provocatively into her mouth, looking more sexy than any woman should. “Yumm.”

  He pulled on the cuffs. “I can’t have you do that. I’ll never last. This isn’t fair.”

  She gazed back to his body and tsked. “And I saved the best part of you to claim for last.” Her eyes again feasted on his erection.

  “No.”

  “Oh, yes.”

  She turned the can over and circled his hard-on. “Didn’t want the guest of honor to get a chill.” She kissed the top of his dick, and he nearly fainted dead away. She drew an arrow on each thigh, pointing straight at his penis. She winked. “In case I forget where it is.”

  “You’re going to kill me.”

  “That I can promise will not happen.” And he felt her warm lips meet his abs and her sweet tongue lick him clean. “I got low-fat so I wouldn’t put on the pounds.”

  She perched on the bed and licked the cream from his chest, then the corners of his mouth, kissing him, letting him suck the sweet taste from her tongue. Her nose touched his. “Now, for the real fun.”

  “I can’t hold on forever, Georgette.”

  “I’m so counting on that.” She straddled him, her back facing him. His body went rigid in anticipation of what was to come. She leaned over, giving him a perfect view of her sweet, nicely rounded derriere. Her tongue licked his thighs, then around his erection. Every cell of his being strained in anticipation, and when her tongue touched the tip of his dick again he nearly lost his mind. She licked his length, pausing each time at the tip.

  “Georgette,” he pleaded. “You have to let me loose right now.”

  “But I’m not finished.”

  “But I am. Condoms in the drawer ... I think. God, I hope so.” She slid her panties off; reached for the drawer, took out a foiled package and covered him. She turned back around again, this time kneeling over his throbbing penis. Her eyes stayed focused on his, hers dark and hungry, and she slowly lowered herself onto him till she completely took him in. His head pounded; his heart hammered. Sweat trickled down his neck. Bracing herself on his shoulders, she lifted her bottom, then lowered, the intense rhythm perfect, the look of passion on her face driving him wild till she took him one last time and they climaxed in a rush of pure heaven.

  She sprawled across him, her rapid breaths matching his, then slowing bit by bit. He said, “Do you know what I intend to do to you the minute you release me?”

  She turned her head and smiled at him. “I can’t wait to find out, Digger.”

  Chapter 14

  Keefe sat at the table at Slim’s, waiting for his fourth plate of ribs in as many days. Never in all his life and love of ribs did he think he’d get tired of them, but he was. Plus his cholesterol reading must be through the roof, and he’d put on five pounds. Demar placed a platter of ribs in front of him, then sat across the table and waited as Keefe bit into the juicy meat.

  “Well,” Demar coaxed.

  “It’s great.”

  “But not perfect.” Demar leaned back. “Okay, what’s it going to take to make you say it’s the best? Fifty bucks? A hundred? Name your price.”

  Sally came over and kissed his head. “You trying to bribe the judge, my man?”

  “Would I do that?”

  “Hell, yes.” She kissed him again.

  Keefe held up a rib section. “This is really good, but it needs more time in the smoker. Where’s Slim?”

  “On his way to Atlanta for a Braves game, got baseline seats. And you are damn picky,” Demar groused and snagged the plate away from Keefe.

  Keefe plucked a rib hanging off the end of the platter. “I’m trying to make you perfect.”

  Demar grinned and kissed Sally. “That’s her job.” He headed for the back porch and the grills, and Keefe asked Sally, “So, what’s going on with you two?”

  “Don’t know. Demar’s a policeman, and I’m not asking him to give that up for me. But Clyde Miller’s back in town. He’s going to oversee the new construction of the houses going up and help Dad put in the outside eating area.”

  “Didn’t he just finish a two-year stint putting in that eighteen-mile bridge across the Louisiana swamps? Think he about lost his mind trying to make peace between the environmentalists, the politicians and keep the whole project on budget. Had a piece in Time magazine on him last month.”

  Sally nodded. “He’s looking for some R and R and quality guitar time, and I better get back to work or I’m going to be looking for a new job.”

  Keefe bit into the rib he’d salvaged from the platter as a pretty young woman with dazzling green eyes came up to him. “Keefe O’Fallon? I was wondering—”

  “I don’t have autographing stuff with me, but if you come around later on, I’ll leave a picture and T-shirt here for you and some—”

  She laughed. It was a familiar laugh, one he’d heard before. “I’m looking for my sister, Callie Cahill, and the guy out back cooking the most wonderful barbecue on earth said you might know. I’m LuLu Cahill.”

  Keefe grinned, wiped his hands, stood and shook her hand. “First of all don’t give that guy out back too much encouragement or his head will get so big there’ll be no living with him, and Callie’s at the house, I think. Or she could be out strolling the baby in some new pink outfit she bought.”

  LuLu chuckled. “I don’t think she’s the only one spoiling baby Bonnie. Callie’s told me all about your family.”

  He liked LuLu Cahill a lot, probably because she reminded him of Callie. He said, “I haven’t seen Callie for a while.” Like last night when he’d snuck into her bed. “But I’ll help you find her.”

  He held the door open f
or LuLu, and they stepped into the sunshine. “Are you taking a vacation before you start law school? I think your sister’s as excited as you are about going to Duke.”

  “I doubt that.”

  “There she is,” Keefe said, pointing toward the market down the street.

  “And I bet that bunny outfit Bonnie has on is one you bought.”

  He grinned. “Guilty. How’d you know?”

  “The hat is baseball cap style, not a bonnet. Something a guy would appreciate.” LuLu laughed, and Callie caught sight of them, her eyes widening in recognition. She waved and pushed the stroller in their direction, meeting up in front of the bank, the blue awning offering some respite from the sun. She hugged LuLu. “You look wonderful. What are you doing here?”

  LuLu grinned, but it looked more like a tension grin than a real one. Something was up in the land of Cahill. LuLu said, “I came to see you, of course.”

  “Missed me that much?”

  “We need to talk.”

  Callie’s face blanched. “Are you all right?”

  “Actually, I’m fine. Better than I’ve been in a while.” She took Callie’s hand and pulled in a deep breath. “We should probably go somewhere private for this, but I might lose my nerve. I’ve been practicing this speech all the way from Atlanta, so here it goes. I’ve enrolled in art school. I’m going to Cal Arts in Valencia, California. I want to go into film, be a director. I don’t want to be a lawyer. I’m getting loans and paying my own way, and I don’t want you to pay for anything else. You’ve given me enough.”

  LuLu bit her lip and shrugged. “There, that’s it, I said it. I’m driving out to California now.”

  Callie didn’t move. Was she even breathing? Finally she managed, “You’re driving out alone to California from Atlanta? What if you have car trouble, get stranded, get mugged, carjacked, the victim of road rage? Have you lost your mind? What are you doing besides ruining your life? You have to go to law school.”

  “I’m in a ninety-five Honda Accord, nothing much to carjack or rage over. And I’m twenty-two, Callie, and . . . and Jerome is going with me.”