Her Body of Work

by Marie Donovan

  “Reina.” He stepped closer to her. “I would never gossip about you. To ease your worries, I don’t know a soul in the Chicago modeling scene.”

  “Except Susan.”

  “Who?”

  “Susan, your modeling agent.”

  “Right. My agent.” He tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear, stroking the sensitive rim. She leaned into his hand as he continued his caress across her jaw. “And I would never tell her. What we do as a man and woman is nobody’s business.”

  Business. That word brought her back to her initial purpose in inviting him over. If her dislike of Craig had shown in his painting, maybe her passion for Marco would show in his statue. It was what she’d wanted when she thought of her plan. So why did it seem so calculating?

  He lifted her hand and kissed the inside of her wrist, just like that Spanish pirate movie. His eyes never left hers. “What do you want, Reina?” His voice was low and seductive.

  She took a deep breath. “I want you.” Her voice came out strong and clear.

  “You’ll have me.” His eyes were full of promise. “And I’ll have you.”

  His words sent a rush of desire through her middle. She took his other hand in hers and tugged him to the chaise.

  He kissed her hard, his lips firm and warm on hers, his tongue teasing the seam of her mouth. His big hands slipped over her bottom, massaging and cupping her buttocks.

  She flinched. He stopped. “What is it?” Concern tempered the desire in his eyes.

  “Nothing.” He’d never understand, having the perfect physique himself.

  “Tell me.”

  “I’m, um, just self-conscious about my butt.” Thanks, Mom. Getting gift certificates for liposuction hadn’t helped her self-confidence.

  He stared at her. “You think your bottom is too big? This luscious ass?” He pushed his hands under the elastic waistband of her skirt and muttered something in Spanish. “Dios mío, are you wearing any panties?”

  She felt surprisingly shy. “Just a thong.”

  “Like two halves of a velvety peach.” He shoved her skirt to the floor and wiggled his fingers into the dripping folds between her thighs. “Ripe and juicy.”

  He dropped to his knees in front of her, nuzzling her mound. She clutched his shoulders. “A see-through thong? You didn’t want to draw pictures of me at all tonight, did you?” Her knees weakened as his hot mouth scorched her through the ivory mesh.

  His finger dipped under the silk thread dividing her buttocks. His throat convulsed.

  She shuddered as he moved up her body to drag his tongue along the sensitive tendons in her neck, stopping to lick the racing pulse at the base of her throat. A clean citrus scent rose off his thick black curls.

  She reached for the silken knot at her waist, but he stopped her. “Let me.” Instead of untying the knot, he ran his fingertips along the exposed V of skin. Her heart thumped so hard she thought it would knock his fingers away.

  Unfastening the top button, he spread the fabric open and licked the top slope of each breast. Then the next button, right at the level of her aching nipples.

  “No bra.” He nuzzled the delicate skin over her breastbone. She squirmed, wanting his mouth on her. “God, I could tell when you bent over to look in the fridge. I thought your nipples were hard from the cold air, but that wasn’t it. You’ve been flashing those little diamond points at me because you’re hot for me, aren’t you?”

  She thought about denying it, but a telltale flush crept up her chest, right where his cheek rested against her. The rumble of his laughter vibrated against her skin.

  “A blush? It’s been years since I met a woman who can still blush.”

  “I just have fair skin, that’s all.” He was right. She didn’t blush easily, but Marco lowered the defenses she’d built since Stefan.

  “So fair.” His tongue laved the full curves peeping from between her lapels. “Mmm. Like sugar and cream. Sweet and smooth, waiting for my tongue to glide over you.”

  She clutched his head to her, desperate for him to suck her nipples, pull her deep into his mouth and relieve the pulsing throb darting from them to between her thighs.

  He paused before the last button, running his fingertips over her breasts but deliberately avoiding the aching peaks. “Querida, I just got a late Christmas gift. A beautifully wrapped package with an even more beautiful gift inside.”

  His words touched her but also made her uncomfortable. He wasn’t supposed to be so sweet and romantic. “I like your package, too,” she joked, trying to put them on a lighter footing. She stroked the impressive bulge in the front of his tight black pants.

  His breath hitched and he grabbed her hand. “Any more of that and this package won’t wait to be opened. I haven’t finished unwrapping you.” He yanked at the final button and her shirt gaped open.

  She made a move to untie the knot at her waist, but he stopped her. “No, leave it.” He stood for a heartbeat and pulled the silk taut across her breasts, admiring the effect. “I like the way your nipples jut against the silk.”

  She gasped as he slipped his hands under the lapels of her open shirt and sucked her silk-covered nipple deep into his mouth.

  The wet silk molded itself to her aching skin. He blew on one peak, and it stiffened under the cool stream of air even more.

  He moved his mouth to the other side, lavishing the same attention. His heavy body pressed her against the cushioned chaise back. She tugged the waistband of his sweater free, luxuriating in the straight lines of his spine, his well-sculpted trapezius and latissimus dorsi muscles and his hot, smooth skin. But the skin on his cock had been much hotter and smoother.

  The naughty thought sent another flood of moisture between her thighs, and she squirmed against his rock-hard abs, the sprinkling of hair on his belly scraping across her pulsing center.

  He looked up from her nipples, his eyelids slumberous with desire. “You’re burning hot. And so am I.” He dragged his sweater over his head. Rey had seen his bare chest twice in person and more times in her fantasies than she cared to admit, but it still made her mouth dry and her knees weak. His warm brown skin stretched tightly over hard pecs and abs. Copper-colored nipples nestled in a mat of black hair that tapered below the black leather belt cinching his narrow waist.

  He left his belt fastened despite the huge erection tenting the zipper below. When he bent to touch her, she grabbed his buckle. “I want you inside me.”

  “Like this?” His finger pushed past her flimsy thong and buried itself deep inside her. “Or like this?” He slipped in a second finger and stroked in and out. She let go of him and fell onto the pillows, her tiny muscles clenching around his strong fingers. He twisted his knuckles as he plunged them deep. Pushing her damp shirt aside, he bared a straining pink peak. He fastened his mouth on her and at the same time circled his thumb over her pulsing knot of nerves. Lightning shot between her nipple and her clitoris, and she bit back a muffled cry.

  He lifted his head from her glistening rosy nipple. “I want to hear you scream, querida. Scream when I make you come hard.”

  His fingers quickened, rubbing nerve endings inside her she didn’t even know existed. His thumb flicked over her pulsing center, pressing harder and harder with each pass. She thrust her hips against his hand as his teeth nipped the aching tips of her breasts. Her throat grew sore from her increasingly loud cries, but she didn’t care. He made magic with his fingers and mouth. Tension spiraled underneath his thumb, and he pinched her other nipple hard. The tension split wide open, exploding and radiating from her center to her breasts and throughout her entire body. Her breath rasped as she screamed his name. She hadn’t felt so good in years, if ever. She finally opened her eyes to see his burning gaze.

  He hadn’t even made it onto the chaise the whole way and was still kneeling on the sealed concrete floor. “I’m glad you enjoyed that.” He leaned forward to press a tender kiss on her mouth.

  “It’s your turn now.” She fu
mbled his pants open, his cock bulging through the zipper. She freed him with trembling hands. He was hot steel filling her hands, long and brown. She stroked him, reveling in the hot, silky skin covering firm, solid flesh. He threw his head back, the tendons in his neck standing out in sharp relief.

  “I was right.” His heavy balls overflowed her palm. She massaged them as her other hand pumped him gently.

  He groaned and jerked, a drop of pearlescent fluid covering his fleshy head. “Right? About what?”

  “Your skin is even softer here.” She shifted her body. “And now I want to know if you taste as good as you look.”

  “Oh, God, Reina.” He grabbed her upper arms. “If you put your mouth on me, it’s all over.” He fumbled in his pocket and dragged out a foil packet. “Put this on me and I’ll make you scream again.”

  She unwrapped the condom with shaky hands and slid it onto his thick shaft. His Adam’s apple bobbed, his self-control balancing on a knife’s edge. As soon as he was protected, he lifted her onto the chaise. She leaned on her elbows, her legs dangling over the edge.

  “Lie down. I have an idea.”

  She complied reluctantly, off balance physically and emotionally. She adjusted her bottom to keep from falling, although if she did, she had plenty of padding to cushion her tailbone.

  He lifted her ankle and stroked upward. He darted his tongue into the sensitive hollow behind her knee and she jumped. “You taste great here. Makes me wonder how you taste all over.”

  Her breath caught in her throat. “Marco.” Her voice was bedroom-husky and sensual, not sounding like herself at all.

  “Not now. I’ll find out later.” He put her ankle onto his shoulder. She teetered on the edge of the chaise, her thong the only thing that kept her from feeling horribly exposed.

  He must have read her mind because he hooked a finger under her waistband. “You won’t need this.”

  She bit back a protest. She did too need her thong, especially after he tossed it on the chaise and ducked his shoulder under her other leg.

  Her legs bracketed his head, leaving her wide open and vulnerable. He moved closer, lifting her bottom until only her shoulders rested on the pillows. She twisted slightly, but he brushed his hot mouth along her calf until she relaxed.

  He slid his hands up her legs, cupping her bottom in both hands. “God, I am tempted to lick you right here.” He parted the folds of her sex gently, and she gasped as he brushed his thumb across her still-throbbing clitoris. He increased the tempo of his caresses, and she lifted her hips even higher into the welcome pressure. A flush of heat pulsed through her body, the rasp of silk over her taut nipples almost unbearable.

  If she couldn’t get relief from the tension, she would go crazy, and she told him so.

  “You want me inside you?” He was as aroused as she was, beads of sweat matting his black chest hair into ringlets.

  “Yes!”

  He thrust into her.

  It was glorious.

  His molten gold eyes captured hers when she gasped. “Too deep?” He withdrew a few inches.

  “No. More.” She shook her head frantically, unable to move her body farther onto his shaft.

  “You can have all of me.” His shoulders flexed under her calves as he slid back.

  She had never been so thoroughly filled. His swollen penis pulsed inside her, stretching her vagina until she cried out from the exquisite pressure.

  He cupped and squeezed her buttocks. “You have a great ass. Next time I want to bend you over the chaise and take you from behind.” He angled his hips so his head nudged the entrance to her womb, withdrawing and thrusting. She bowed her body to accommodate the deep penetration. She wasn’t afraid of losing her balance anymore because he was rock-steady around her and inside her.

  “You’re so wet and tight around me. I can tell you want to come so bad.” He was on the edge, too, a sheen of sweat gilding his skin despite the cool air. He reached between their bodies and stroked her clit.

  She moaned and twisted in his intimate embrace, wanting release from his finger slipping over her and his cock slipping inside her. His slow, relentless pace forced her to hang over a delirious precipice until her hold broke and she tumbled, pulling him with her as his control shattered and he fell into her eager body, moaning long, liquid gushes of Spanish endearments.

  MARCO SPRAWLED ON HIS stomach as if he hadn’t slept in days, his body solid and heavy.

  Rey crept from under his arm and pulled on the midnight-blue terry-cloth robe draped over a nearby chair. She found her art supplies and dragged her stool close to him.

  For the first time in weeks she drew for the sheer pleasure of it, scratching the charcoal feverishly over the pristine white pages of her sketch pad. Finally here was her Roman god, the black spirals of his hair, the long sculpted lines of his scarred back, the curves of his thick palms and the high arches of his feet.

  She flipped her pad over to a fresh page, intent on sketching his face in detail. His eyes opened slowly. Her stomach fluttered at his lazy golden gaze as he rolled over onto his side.

  “You’re going to hurt my feelings. I thought I’d tired you enough that we wouldn’t work tonight. Come here.” He patted the sheet exactly as Craig, her last nude model, had.

  This time she tossed aside her sketch pad and dropped the robe. When a Roman god issued a command to join him in bed, what mortal woman could resist?

  MARCO PEERED THROUGH THE curtains at his brother’s apartment. He’d been extremely cautious after almost strangling the homeless guy near Rey’s loft.

  Francisco’s audition had gone well and he was preparing for a screen test. Marco hadn’t heard from his mamá, so no news was good news.

  He pulled out the cell phone he’d bought along with the pistol. He’d rethought his plan of cutting off total contact with any of his DEA buddies and had decided to call his closest friend, Eddie Jones. Eddie was a former college football player from Texas and spoke Spanish as if he were born in Mexico City. He’d brought down several drug runners along the Río Grande and had been a great help to Marco. Now Marco was counting on him even more.

  The gun dealer had assured him that the cloned phone, like the pistol, was untraceable. Marco obviously never trusted anyone who sold illegal goods, but he had made it clear that he would be back, pistol in hand, if he encountered any difficulties.

  The man had believed him.

  Marco sighed. He would be happy to see the last of the cold, intimidating side of his personality, but it had been part of him since he was twelve. Not for the first time Marco considered his future—if he had one. Working undercover for DEA did not accentuate his good qualities, and he was damn sure he didn’t want to ride a desk.

  Marco pressed the code to block the caller ID and dialed Eddie’s private cell number.

  “Jones here.”

  “Hola, Lalo.” As far as he knew, Marco was the only one who called him Lalo, the common Spanish nickname for Eduardo. Everyone else called him Eddie or Jonesey.

  Marco heard a sharp intake of breath and then his friend’s slow drawl came over the phone. “Hey, how’s it goin’?”

  “Still here.”

  “Uh-huh.” Eddie spoke to whoever was with him. “Darlin’, I’m gonna step outside for a quick smoke.”

  “Did I interrupt something?” Marco couldn’t resist needling his friend.

  “Cut the shit and tell me what the hell’s going on! The boss thought you’d already been fed to either the sharks or the gators.”

  “Someone’s rotten in our office. There were only a few people who knew about my informant.”

  “Yeah, about him…” Eddie cleared his throat. “Metro-Dade PD found enough parts of him to make an ID.”

  Marco pinched the bridge of his nose and swore a long stream of obscenities.

  “Sorry, man. I had a snitch get offed in Mexico once. Guy was no prince but still didn’t deserve it.”

  “Damn it!” Marco had known deep down his sni
tch was dead, but hearing the confirmation just made him madder.

  “Listen, mano, I don’t even want to know where you are. We still have Rodríguez under surveillance, but that doesn’t mean jack.” A cigarette lighter clicked and Eddie sucked in a lungful of smoke.

  “I’m safe for now. Nose around at the office and see what you can dig up, but be careful, for God’s sake.” Marco didn’t want to pull Eddie deeper into the mess.

  His friend exhaled a long stream of smoke. “Will do. Call me when you can and stay safe, amigo.”

  “Hasta la vista, Eddie.”

  “You better believe I’ll see you later. None of that goodbye shit. Oops, gotta go, my date’s coming.”

  “Is she a screamer or a moaner?”

  Eddie told him where to stick it and hung up.

  Marco turned off the phone. He’d keep it for a while, since buying another stolen phone would be risky. Especially since he didn’t want to get caught with a pistol in his pocket.

  Getting arrested for carrying a concealed, illegal weapon would be a real kick to the cojones. Jail was full of men willing to kill him for a dime bag of cocaine while the cops worked out who he was.

  If it came down to that, what was he willing to do to keep his freedom? Shoot a fellow officer in the shoulder or leg?

  Normally he’d rather get shot himself than do that, but his sense of self-preservation had been honed to a razor’s edge. He just didn’t know what kind of man Marco Flores was anymore.

  9

  MARCO LET OUT A GUTTURAL cry that mingled with Rey’s moans. “Oh, my God, Marco, you’re going to kill me.” She let go of his shoulders and grimaced as she lowered her wobbly legs from his waist.

  “What a headline.” He rolled off her and they lay side by side. “‘Famous Chicago Artist Comes to Death After a Week of Fantastic Multiple Orgasms.’” It had been a fantastic week for him, too. Over the past year his sexual encounters had been impersonal and furtive, more for physical release than emotional closeness. Celibacy was not an admired trait among Rodríguez’s men.