Do You Love Me?

by Sharon Ervin

  “Well, this is the only way it’s going to happen. It’s the only way I will ever consider my debt to you paid. Now open your hand and do as I tell you.”

  He trembled as he squeezed her wrist. She undoubled her fist and felt the soft chest hair beneath her open palm and fingertips. He guided her hand over the plates of muscle, tipped his head back and closed his eyes, inhaling, flattening his stomach into a rub board.

  “That’s right, Savanna.” His voice had a breathless quality. “You’re an apt pupil.” He slid her hand up over his chin to his mouth and took the tips of her fingers between his teeth. Biting carefully, he laved his tongue back and forth over the captive fingertips. Her breath quickened to hot, tiny gasps.

  “Now touch me with both hands, Savanna, and this time without my help.”

  Mesmerized, she placed the fingers of both her hands at his collarbones. He dropped his arms to his sides and stood poised, his head tilted slightly to one side, his long lashes shadows against his cheeks as he watched through slotted eyes.

  She regarded the automaton body and allowed her fingers to sweep across his chest then down. He stiffened and inhaled sharply as her hands inched over his hard stomach. Her breath came and went hot in her chest. He groaned and she wondered if the sound came from pleasure or pain. She ventured a look at his face. Pleasure, she thought, interpreting his strange expression.

  When he remained still, she warmed to the game. She touched his wrists and traced the corded muscles of his forearms up, over the boulder-like biceps and shoulders she admired.

  She stepped closer and reached high to feel his solid neck and to track the rims of his ears. Her breasts pressed against him and he shuddered as she laced her fingers into his hair and pulled, trying to tilt his face, to lower it to hers.

  Puckering, she stood on her tiptoes, straining to make contact with his mouth.

  He whispered, “No, no,” and rocked his head from side to side. “Kissing will cost you another fifty.” He spoke quietly but she recoiled as if he had shouted.

  “What?” She couldn’t help a perturbed scowl but he maintained a somber gaze through the slits that were his eyes.

  “You object to the price?” He made a halfhearted attempt to pull away from her. “Perhaps I can find you someone else, a man who will service you for less money.”

  “No. No.” She stammered and couldn’t seem to steady her breathing. “I’ll pay. I want you. I’ll get the fifty.”

  A smile played at the corners of his mouth and he opened his eyes a little wider. “Good.”

  She stopped suddenly and studied him for a long moment. It was a game and maybe a lesson at the same time. She pivoted stiffly, walked to the bed, withdrew five ten-dollar bills from the shoe box and returned to resume her position directly in front of him before she handed him the payment.

  As before, he counted the bills, this time less diligently. Without a glance, he reached back and placed them on top of the first stack, all the while regarding her coolly, his chin slightly raised.

  When he didn’t move, she took the initiative, again raising herself on tiptoe. His annoying smirk almost repelled her, but not quite. It did, however, prompt her to wait for him to lower his mouth rather than grabbing his head and bending it to her. He did.

  He clamped both hands on her waist and yanked her close as his mouth devoured hers. Grasping the back of his neck, she pulled herself tightly against him. She felt a moment of triumph to realize he was inhaling volumes of air. Then he bent his knees to lift her, gathering her wholly into his arms. Involuntarily, she whined into his mouth.

  The whine seemed to excite some animal response in him as he squeezed her nearly to breathlessness.

  Savanna squirmed, inadvertently raising her shirt so she could feel the heated flesh of his hands on her bare skin. He reacted as if he’d touched something hot, and flinched, setting her back on her feet and nudged her a little away from him.

  “Fondling will be…”

  “I know, I know.” She was panting, the air burning her throat as she inhaled and exhaled, trying to form the words. “Fifty more to touch me? How much to undress me? How much to undress you? Is clothing priced by the piece or…?”

  She shivered with her frustration and slapped at his hands when he reached for her. “I don’t want to do it like this.” She whirled and paced to the closed bedroom door.

  “Everything costs more a la carte, Ms. Cavendish,” he crooned. “How much will you require? What will it take to satisfy the lady? Will you be wanting the full course or only the appetizers? Maybe if you will specify…”

  Spinning, she ran toward him and took a swing at his jaw, but he leaned to one side and she caught only air before he grabbed the offending hand.

  A wicked smile stole his mouth and laughter burbled in his throat as he studied her, obviously enjoying her anguish.

  “You want me, Savanna. Say so.” His voice was low, threatening. “You must tell me. You must declare your need out loud so that we both may hear it, particularly so that you may.”

  She gritted her teeth and seethed. “You grinning idiot. You’ve priced yourself out of the market.” She tried to yank her fist out of his grasp, but he clamped it more tightly.

  “I don’t think so. Not tonight. I think tonight you would pay much more than I’ve asked to have me touch you, to have my mouth taste your aching breasts.” He tugged on the fist, pulling her closer. Her resistance was token, barely enough to salve her conscience. “Come here.”

  Feebly she stiff-armed him, but he tugged her along as he crept back to sit on the side of the bed and pull her between his open legs.

  Watching her face, he unbuttoned and shoved her loose shirttail up, smoothed his hands over her bare skin to the small of her back and closed the emerald eyes as he tapped his lips against her bare midriff. She moaned and pressed closer.

  Seeing the open shoe box on the bed behind him, she leaned, caught the edge of the box and turned it upside down, dumping the contents over his head. “I want the whole enchilada.” Her voice sounded hoarse. He smiled into her face and she whispered, “I want everything you’ve got, Pedro.”

  “A rose by any other name?”

  “Precisely.”

  As she undid his trousers, he slid his arm over the bedspread, summarily shoving the loose currency and the shoe box to the floor. She gasped to find he wore no underwear. He pulled his pants off then lay back and pulled her on top of him. She trembled to feel his engorged cock hard against her abdomen.

  He opened her shirt and slid it off, then removed her bra, freeing the abundant breasts. Meticulously, he ran his hands over the exposed areas of her body, following with his mouth, turning her, kissing every exposed bit of skin.

  Little cries of pleasure caught in her throat and she quivered as he unfastened and pulled at her shorts, teasing them down, little by little, over her hips, following the receding fabric with his mouth.

  She writhed, encouraging him. It didn’t take much.

  He rolled her onto her back, rocked onto his knees and stripped away her panties. She stared at him, eager to see his face as he surveyed her nakedness. She was surprised by his sudden look of concern. “What is it?”

  He looked troubled. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

  She smiled. “You won’t. I’ve done this before, you know.”

  He gave a rueful laugh. “Ah yes, but you see, my love, I have not.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Still beneath him, Savanna strained to pull up and brace herself on her elbows. “What?”

  His eyes were glassy as they slid over her body.

  “You’re a grown man.”

  “That is true.”

  “A construction worker.”

  “Yes.”

  “You’ve never had a woman?”

  “No.”

  “You mean you’re a…a…?”

  “Yes.”

  “But why?”

  “I have never been betrothed. I have never
before entertained thoughts of marriage.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I am going to marry you, Savanna Cavendish.”

  “For my money?”

  He looked pained. “I care nothing for your money or any of what you own. Why can you not comprehend? I care only for you.”

  “You have me. You don’t have to marry me.”

  “I would marry for only one reason, Savanna. I have never before wanted to marry because I have never before loved.”

  “You love me?”

  “Yes. That is correct.” He sounded businesslike. “I love you. I have told you so many times.”

  “Why?”

  The disdain was audible in his laugh. “I do not know why and I see that as verification that it must be so. Truly, you are a difficult woman, spoiled, demanding, suspicious, and have many other traits I find vexing.”

  “Is it my body you want?”

  “Yes.”

  “Here I am, naked in bed, yours for the taking.”

  His eyes, which had begun to lose the glazed look, suddenly roamed again over her white body quivering against his darker one. He gave her another caustic grin as he shook his head.

  “Will you marry me, Savanna? Will you take my innocence here tonight and be willing to make an honest man of me, or must we wait?”

  “I don’t understand you at all.”

  “I’m asking that you take my name and bear my children.”

  “What if I don’t want that?”

  He exhaled and frowned at her ripe, willing body. “Then this that we both desire is not going to happen.”

  She rattled a choking little cough. “Can you stop now, just like that?”

  His jaw clenched and his face became resolute. “Yes.”

  “Peter, people do this all the time without marrying.”

  “Ah, but that is my price, Savanna. Our physical joining cannot be bought with a shoe box full of money, nor with houses, nor cars, nor with your entire fortune. No. You must agree to my terms. You must marry me and take my name.”

  She noticed the subtle change in the terms of his offer. “Is this a compromise? Now I don’t have to have your babies?”

  His smile wavered. “I would consider it an honor for you to bear my children, but it is not a promise you must make tonight.”

  She lay back and rocked her head from side to side. As he again surveyed her, his eyes narrowed. His hand was quick as he flattened it over the mound between her legs, electrifying her. She twisted and whined, in a feeble attempt to escape the heat ignited by his probing fingers as they slid inside, penetrating her.

  He moved the treacherous hand slowly, gently, stimulating her until she grabbed it with both of her hands and cried out. Her voice quailed as she rocked her head from side to side in torment whispering pathetic objections. “I thought you had no experience with…”

  “I have never been inside a woman. I did not say I had never touched one.”

  Rolling her hips to encourage him, she reached high to lace her fingers into his thick hair and pulled. He refused to yield and, instead, lifted her hips with both hands to skewer his tongue into her belly button.

  Another whine and she opened for him, almost against her own will. His hands warmed her everywhere they touched, invading her so that she whimpered at the delicate pleasure of their raw intimacy.

  His voice was a husky growl. “If we join here tonight, Savanna, I will take it as consent. Do you understand? No other man may touch you this way again. Not ever. Do you agree?” He stopped, suspending all movement, awaiting her answer. Her breathing stalled with the hesitation.

  “Can you stop now?” She thought he was too aroused to quit, but he bent and nibbled down her belly toward her own vulnerability. Peculiar sounds issued from her throat before she cried out, “Yes, damn you. All right. Yes. Anything. Please. No other man. I understand. Now, please.”

  He fell back to his work, lavishing her thoroughly with his tongue, drawing essence from her as a bee extracts nectar from a flower.

  He hovered over her, a presence so dark, so bold, so vital, she was scarcely able to endure. She raised her hips, arching her back to press herself closer to him and he smiled.

  “Will you be my wife?”

  Again she rolled her face back and forth to signal her stubborn refusal. He smiled and arched his eyebrows. “You will yield, Savanna. You will agree. Only then will I permit the pleasure we both desire.”

  She opened her eyes slightly, set her face and whispered, “Fuck me, Pedro.”

  He snorted a caustic little laugh. “Not good enough.”

  She opened her eyes wider. “Please.”

  Another laugh as he gazed into her face and she could see the toll his refusal cost him in his strained expression. “No.”

  Again she raised her body to graze his. “I’m begging, Peter. Please. Come inside me.”

  He arched an eyebrow and leaned. She felt the hard length of his cock against her as he whispered, “Say what you must say.”

  She felt her defiance ebb as his body throbbed at the entrance to her. He wanted her but who would yield first? She was nearly at her limit as tremors wracked her own treacherous body in its need.

  “All right, all right. What is it you want me to say?”

  He stared down into her eyes but didn’t speak.

  “Okay, I know. Yes, I will marry you.” The words were devoid of emotion. He remained unmoving. She wriggled beneath him. “I said it.”

  “You were not sincere.”

  Was the man masochistic? “Yes. Yes, I was. I am. You want too much.”

  “Yes. And before we are finished here tonight, my darling, I will have all I require. I will possess you, el amante, every stubborn centimeter. You will yield.”

  “There is no more of me to give than what’s sprawled here in front of you.”

  There was sarcasm in his voice. “This that you offer so graciously, is only your flesh. I would possess your soul as well.”

  She turned her face to one side and was silent for a long while. Tears meandered across the bridge of her nose and dripped onto the pillow beneath her. He allowed the lower part of his torso to touch her again, prodding, spurring her, but he did not speak.

  She was ready to be done with this annoying game, but he lowered more of himself, keeping her pinned in place.

  “Let me go.” It was not a request but a command.

  “Say softly that you will be my wife.”

  “This is my house. You are a guest, here at my invitation.”

  “That is not true. You ordered me to leave, threw me out of this place, the closest place to paradise I’ve ever been.” He hesitated. She turned her face back to stare at him. The jade in his eyes glistened. Was that desire, or only lust? No. It was more. It was need. He needed her and she, Savanna Cavendish, might never know exactly why.

  His voice was hoarse, barely audible. “Would you have me beg? Must I sacrifice what remains of my manhood? Shall I crawl on my knees? Shall I weep? I will howl like a dog, wear a collar and leash, worship you openly as I have in my heart from our first meeting.”

  His chin bent to his chest in defeat. “What do you want, Savanna? I will give you anything.” His voice weakened to a whisper. “No price is too great. I will withhold nothing.”

  She examined his face, looking for evidence that the words were lies, but saw moisture gathering at the corners of his eyes.

  He turned his face to the side, compelling her. She planted her hands on either side of his face and lifted her mouth to his. Using the age-old sorcery of women, she sucked his tongue into a dance which slowly began to move to the sensuous rhythm of their breathing as it came faster.

  In movements that seemed to oppose his will, he pushed into her slowly, tentatively, searching, stretching, reaching into the warm, moist depths.

  She bent her knees to cradle him, drawing him, straining to hold onto him as he withdrew then probed again, deeper, then again.

&
nbsp; A jungle rhythm thrummed between them and they moved to its cadence, in and out, up and down, pumping as their hearts pounded in sync.

  Her climax came before his and she quivered, locked in the rapture, but as he continued spiraling, she swelled a second time, higher, frightened of the pinnacle to which he transported her, unearthly in its thin, cleansing aura.

  She heard the whimpering, wondered if a stray animal had found its way into their sanctum, and was startled to find that the sounds came from her own throat as she plummeted earthward, hurtling back into reality.

  She grabbed Peter’s beautiful head and pressed it against her, wanting to absorb him inside her and keep him there forever.

  “Yes.” She whispered the word, but he jumped as if she’d shouted and his body roused again. He plunged deeper than he had been before, hammering, pounding her, gasping and triumphant.

  He caught a wrist and stretched it high over her head. When she reached, he captured her other arm as well, demonstrating the extent to which she was defenseless beneath him. She was mindlessly unafraid for all thought had deserted her and she was his, at that moment and forever.

  She had fought the good fight and lost, yet she felt certain she could be supremely gracious in this defeat.

  The wedding was a small affair in her parents’ living room. His family did not come, but they sent an unframed canvas which looked, strangely enough, like a Picasso.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  “What did you expect? The man’s a gigolo, bought and paid for.” Kitty’s words, spoken with such venom, obviously were intended to be overheard and sting. “He sells his body to the highest bidder. I myself…”

  Savanna, who preceded Peter into the country club dining room, turned slightly and flashed him a secretive glance.

  Kitty continued. “He’s a grease monkey now, I hear, working in the shop at Cavendish’s.”

  His face remained stoic but his eyes sparked a response as clear to Savanna as words. She straightened and gave Kitty a withering smile, full of pity, silencing her, and returned her attention to the maître d’ who seemed not to have heard the remarks.