She gave him the thumbs-up signal and he introduced her to Alan, the pilot. Alan was quite the laugh riot—he told her he’d only smoked a little crack that evening, but she had nothing to worry about.
She strapped herself in on the leather sofa, declined a drink and tried not to think about all the statistics on small plane crashes. She opened a Vogue magazine and stared at all the impossibly skinny models wearing impossibly expensive clothes. She thought again about the statistics on small plane crashes. She changed her mind about that drink and was on the way to Martiniville before they ever left the ground.
In about thirty seconds, they’d landed in Tallahassee and Alan helped her down the stairs with her bag. A different limo driver, Frank, drove her to the governor’s mansion, where Jack skipped to the front door like a little kid to greet her. A very handsome, buff kid in suit trousers and a tie and shoes polished to such a shine that she could see her reflection in them.
“Welcome to the palace,” he said with one of his disarming grins. Then he kissed her, right in front of Frank, whom he told in the nicest possible way to get lost. A fifty-dollar bill encouraged Frank to do so. Jack then turned his attentions back to her.
If she’d had panties on, they’d have melted. But she’d followed orders. Marly broke away from his kiss at a horrifying thought, though. “Are there security cameras in this place?”
Jack looked uncomfortable. “One or two.”
“Out here?”
His sheepish expression answered her question.
“Then will you please take your hands off my ass?”
“Let me show you my personal quarters,” Jack said diplomatically.
“That sounds great. Because I’d really rather not end up on the Internet doing nude acrobatics for a world-wide audience, courtesy of your fine security staff.”
He shuddered. “I have to agree with you on that.” He took her hand and her duffel and led her upstairs to his apartments in the big house.
Jack’s taste ran to dark wood, Oriental rugs and rich fabrics. She looked around with delight, thinking that his preferences in interior design were a lot like hers—just more conservative and Republican—not to mention hideously expensive. But if he added floor pillows, candles and wall hangings and removed the lugubrious oil paintings of ducks…she could be quite at home here.
“You like it?” he asked.
“I do! And I didn’t expect to.”
“Why? You thought I’d have the place upholstered in gray flannel and pinstripes?”
She shook her head. “No, I thought it would look more like a hotel, with lots of gilded things and plastic flowers and stupid decorator objects.”
“Stupid decorator objects?”
“Yeah, like those dumb balls made of grapevines sitting in bowls. What are those for? And old hatboxes that sit around in piles collecting dust. And books that are just there for display—God forbid anyone should pick them up and read them.”
“And why would I have these objects in my personal space?”
“Because of your decorator.”
“Ah. But I don’t use one. I’ve had most of this stuff for a long time. And my mother ordered other things. She’s the one who kind of pulled the place together.”
He spoke of her with obvious affection, and Marly felt guilty that she didn’t feel the same way about her mother. But then again, Mrs. Hammersmith probably had never made her son feel like an unwelcome intruder into his parents’ relationship.
Marly turned and admired the high arched windows, the beautiful polished wood floors and the lush gardens she could see outside the window. “Do you have any pets?” she asked.
He joined her at the middle window and pointed toward a huge stone fountain. “Three koi. The biggest, fattest fish you’ve ever seen. One’s white with orange speckles. One’s solid coppery-orange. And one is this mustard-gold color with black splotches. They eat more than I do. I really expect them to do away with the gardener one day. They’ll leave nothing left of him but hair and toenails.”
“Ugh,” said Marly. Then she brightened. “Maybe they’d like Fuzzy, my parents’ cat.”
“Poor little guy. What’s he ever done to you?”
Marly put her hands on her hips. “You really want to know?” She told him about the portion of roast in the middle of her bed. “And when I went to take it away from him, he growled and snarled and hissed. You could see him trying to decide whether or not to lunge and bite me, or keep his fangs sunk into the meat so I couldn’t take it away. Finally I flipped the comforter up over him and dragged him and the meat into the kitchen inside it. You should have heard him yelling!”
Jack said, “I didn’t know cats could yell.”
“Fuzzy can. So I shouted for my mother and she took one look and acted like I’d tortured him! Her poor little flesh-eating baby…she let him keep the meat. Unbelievable. She just laundered the quilt next day and cleaned up the mess on the floor, since he dragged that roast out of the kitchen and into the dining room, where he ate it under the table.”
Jack was practically in convulsions. “You don’t appear to think that justice was served, Marly.”
“Go figure! My mother treats that cat better than she treats me. I’d throw him into a tank full of piranhas if I had the chance.”
“No, you wouldn’t.”
She shrugged. “Okay, maybe not. But I sure do fantasize about it.”
“Want a drink?”
“No thanks. I had a martini on the flight and that’s enough.”
“Want to join me in the whirlpool tub?”
“Now, that I might consider.”
She followed him into a vast marble bathroom with a hexagonal tub. He shut the drain and turned gold taps on full-blast, while she admired the room. The gold had been done sparingly: just in the smaller fixtures. The towel bars were made of gleaming, rich wood, as was the architectural detailing and the double glass-paned door.
There were skylights in the ceiling and real plants grew in pots around the giant tub. There were several varieties of orchids, bromeliads and other flowering indoor plants she couldn’t identify. If paradise could be achieved in a bathroom, this was it.
Jack smiled at her. “You like?”
She nodded. “You could hold a formal dinner in here, it’s so big.”
He rubbed at his chin. “I’ll keep that in mind, honey. Though I find that the more naked people are, the more informal they get.” He loosened his tie and started to remove it.
“Leave that on,” suggested Marly with a wicked smile.
“Yeah?”
She nodded. “But take everything else off.”
“You’re giving orders very freely,” he said, his eyebrows raised. But he didn’t seem to mind, since he unbuttoned his shirt and obliged her.
Oh, that chest. The muscle in those shoulders and upper arms made her go weak.
“What about you?”
“You get to wonder if I followed your orders.”
He cocked his head. “Mine are practically law. I mean, I am the head of state here. I could have you punished if you didn’t adhere to my desires.” His eyes gleamed and his teeth flashed white.
“Punished?” She tried not to laugh.
“Oh, yeah.” Jack stood in front of her naked now, except for his signature royal-blue tie. Any other man would have looked utterly ridiculous. He looked as if he was about to do a photo shoot for Vanity Fair. I’m ready for my close-up now, Ms. Leibovitz.
“As I recall,” he teased, “you caught my Republican part in Democratic territory last time, and threw him in jail without food or water. So if you break the Law of Jack, I should at least be able to spank you. I’m starting to have a really good master-to-slave-girl fantasy, here.”
Outraged, she put her hands on her hips. “Master to—? You’ve got to be kidding me!”
He turned to shut off the taps before the tub overflowed, and she got a good visual of the Jack-Ass, smooth and muscular and beyond sexy. Oh, my…
; He faced her again. “Are you talking back to the master, girl?” He stepped toward her, mock-menacing.
“Ye—uh, no!”
He grabbed her wrists and forced them—gently—behind her back, where he circled them easily with one hand. Because of the position, her breasts were thrust forward, which he didn’t seem to mind a bit. He flicked her nipples with the thumb of his other hand, and her breath hitched in her throat, starting to come hard and fast.
Jack studied her for a long moment through his lashes, as if he liked what he saw, a lot. Then he brought his lips down hard on hers. His kiss sent shock waves through her and she melted under his mouth, opening to him and letting him take what he wanted.
When he lifted his head, she couldn’t speak. Still holding her wrists captive, he traced his fingers over her lips, her jaw, down her neck and into her cleavage. She wished he would touch her breasts again, but he didn’t. Instead he dragged his index finger down to her belly button and then lower.
“Did you follow orders?” he asked softly.
She’d never played sex games like this, and the experience was intriguing. What would he do?
“Did you, Marly?”
“No,” she lied.
“Bad girl,” he said. He tightened his grip on her wrists, looking stern and mock-menacing. “You know what we do with naughty girls like you?”
She shook her head, and her heart rate kicked up.
“We take down their panties and we spank them.” He shot her a predatory grin.
Though the words and the concept were ridiculous, like something out of the fifties, they turned her on. She licked dry lips.
Jack stepped backward, hauling her with him, and sat on the edge of the big marble tub. Then, chuckling, he forced her over his knee and pulled up her skirt.
I am so not doing this, Marly thought in shame. This is laughable. But as her midriff came into contact with his erection and cool air met her bare buttocks, electricity shot through her and she forgot all about dignity.
“So you did follow orders,” Jack said, his tone pleased as he ran a hot palm over her bare rear end. But then he swatted her anyway.
Marly jerked her head up. “Hey!”
“You lied. There are consequences for that, too.” He continued to fondle her backside, but now his fingers crept inward, along the cleft and lower down to—
She gasped as he traced up and down her sex, parted her and rubbed softly. Her breasts were squashed erotically against one hard, muscular thigh, and she got so wet she practically liquefied. Her body started to tremble and Jack shoved her thighs apart, then began to play her mons with his right hand like a musical instrument. Then, with his left, he began to touch and rub her nipples.
She felt helpless across his knees—literally like some slave girl. Whether it was the novelty of it, or the expertise of his fingers, or the faint suggestion of humiliation and powerlessness, Marly exploded into the most intense orgasm she’d ever had.
Jack lifted her and placed her gently on a rug there in the bathroom. She opened her eyes to find his blue ones boring into hers, that angel-devil blue on fire. He moved between her legs and she welcomed his hard, solid length into her body. The incongruous tie was still around his neck, and she grasped it and used it to pull his head down to hers. She kissed him like she’d kissed no other man before, thrusting with her tongue as he thrust into her. She let go the tie and clung to his shoulders, digging into all that gorgeous muscle and hanging on for dear life as his powerful body slid hers across the floor.
Unbelievable, but she felt herself building to climax again, and when he did that signature Jack circular motion with his hips, it triggered her into blissful oblivion at the same time he groaned out her name.
SINCE SHE FOUND IT impossible to move, Jack scooped her up again and got into the tub with her, settling them both down into the warm, silky water.
“You make one hell of a slave girl, kid,” he said into her ear as he pulled her back against his chest.
“Do you have any idea how embarrassing that is?” She poked him.
“Why? It’s just a fantasy. For all you know, I have dominatrix fantasies and want to be humiliated by an Amazon in a black rubber suit.”
“Do you?”
“Well, no,” he admitted. “I’d have her on her back in no time and get real creative with her whip.”
She laughed. “So the black rubber thing doesn’t bother you. The outfit has a few peek-a-boo holes, too, I bet.”
“Oh, yeah.”
“Well, master, we’ll have to see what we can arrange.” Marly turned her head and waggled her eyebrows at him.
“Oh, maaaan. See, I knew you were The One.”
She froze. “Jack, you don’t have to continue with that. I mean, you’ve already got me in your bed, or tub or whatever. You can quit with the BS.”
His body stiffened behind her. “What did you say?”
13
JACK SPUN MARLY around. “You still think I’m feeding you lines. You think I’m a bullshit artist. Actually, you think I’m a liar. That’s very flattering.”
She opened and closed her mouth, her blue-green eyes wary. “I didn’t say you were a liar—I just wanted to tell you that I know the score. Take the pressure off so you wouldn’t have to keep up the…” Her voice faded out.
“Pretense? Yeah, I’m pretty sure that’s the word you were going to use.”
She looked away. “Jack, you can’t expect me to believe in fairy tales.”
“Sweetheart, you know by now that I’m no fairy. And I can assure you that I’m not telling tales. I have the cameo of my great-great-grandmother right out there in my dresser. You want to see it? You want to read the correspondence between her and the man she married, my great-great-grandfather?”
“Jack, I’m not trying to deny your family history! But things are different today, and I certainly don’t expect—”
“A ring?”
She gave an embarrassed laugh.
“Why not? I am going to marry you, so you should expect a ring.” Jack saw a shiver run through her, and then she just goggled at him as if he had three heads.
She threw up her hands, splashing them both in the process. “These are the kinds of things that you can’t walk around saying or doing!”
“Why not? I just did.” Jack leaned back against the side of the tub again, amused.
“Why not? Because…because maybe I don’t want to marry you! Maybe it’s just a little bit early in the game to be making sweeping statements like that. Maybe you’re so sure of yourself that it’s almost giving me the creeps!”
Jack folded his hands behind his head and got comfortable with the outraged, beautiful naked woman in his tub. “You sure are full of compliments. I’m a BS artist, a scheming manipulator and now I give you the creeps. You know, a guy with a lesser ego might take some of that the wrong way.”
She stood, water sluicing down her body, and glared at him. Damn, she was one hot babe. He fixated on her breasts, that tiny waist, the beckoning patch between her thighs and those long, long legs. She was speaking, but he couldn’t seem to register the words.
“That’s just it! Your ego!”
Not worried at all about his ego, Jack fixated like a shark on a minnow. Then he honed in on his prey: the forbidden place right at eye level.
“You’re so sure of yourself that it makes me want to—ahhhhh! What are you doing?”
Jack was licking. And holding her prisoner with one hand on each cheek, which he couldn’t help squeezing.
Marly squirmed against him. “Stop that! You’re not listening to a word I—ohh.” She clutched at his hair and swayed. “I said stop it!”
He ignored her as she started to pant and rock against him. He got down to the serious business of distracting her from whatever rant she’d been about to go on.
“Don’t stop,” Marly moaned.
Now that’s more like it, thought Jack, pleased.
She whimpered. “Yes! Yes! Oh,
please…”
He’d found the little nub at her center and he worried it with his tongue, making circles and figure eights. Suddenly she began to buck uncontrollably against him, while he held her hips in place. She made sounds that really weren’t recognizable as words, little cries that told him he’d brought her ultimate pleasure.
It was only then that Jack got to his feet, stood her on the edge of the tub and drove inside her slick, tight heat. She lost her balance, grabbed at his shoulders and he took her weight completely. “Wrap your legs around me,” he ordered.
She did, and he bent her back so that he could see her breasts, see their joining as he pulsed inside her. It was the sight of her, perpendicular to his body, laid out like a feast, that made him come in a hard, hot rush.
It wasn’t until afterward, lying on the rug with her on top of him, that he thought of a condom.
“I’m on the pill,” she told him. “And by the way, I may have no complaints at all about your technique, but that was a sneak attack!”
“Yup,” he agreed, unperturbed.
“I was trying to tell you something important.”
“I know.” He grinned. “And I was trying to tell you something important, too. That I don’t care what you say, or what barriers you erect, I’m going to get through them and I’m going to marry you.”
“You act like I have no choice in the matter!”
He blinked. “You don’t. Not really.”
She gaped at him.
“It’s fate,” he explained. “Destiny. Whatever you want to call it.”
The chills that she’d gotten the first time he’d said it to her returned. She didn’t believe in fate. She believed in making her own destiny, whether or not it involved Jack.
And right now she believed in self-preservation, in not being swallowed whole by his outsize personality and calm plans for what was her life. “Fate,” she scoffed. “You’re crazy, Jack!”
He stroked her hair. “I love it when you get all hot and bothered. You’re so damned cute.”
“I’m not cute! And you’re not listening to me.” She sat up and glared at him.
“I am listening to you. Really. I’m letting you vent. I just don’t happen to agree with you. You’ll see that I’m right in the end. I’m always right.”
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