by Alyssa Kress
"Did I say you had to?" Kate sprang open the top button of his fly.
"No, but — "
Making sure she edged her descending hand against his bulging erection, Kate unfastened the rest of his fly.
Griffith hissed in a breath through his teeth.
Kate smiled. Yes, this was better. Keeping it purely physical, and herself in charge. She edged her fingers under the waistband of both his jeans and his boxers, and shoved down.
"Oh, man! Take it easy there."
"Did I hurt you?"
"No, but — Hey, Kate..." Griffith's voice slid to a nervous chuckle as Kate lowered herself with his pants, pushing them all the way to the ground.
"Don't move," Kate said.
"I'm not going anywhere." He couldn't, anyway, not with his ankles tethered by his pants. Nor did Kate think he'd want to remove himself when she was kneeling on the blanket in front of him, her face inches from his eager member.
"Um...Kate?"
For answer she touched him. She liked the swollen springiness and the vibrant veins snaking irregularly over the surface of his skin here. She smoothed a finger down his length of silky skin.
"Kate," Griffith said again. His muscles shifted under the thick, masculine curls on his legs.
"I like the way you feel." Kate curved her fingers around him and performed an experimental caress.
"Kate." His hands landed on her head. "I don't think... Maybe this isn't such a good idea."
"Why not?" She moved her fingers up and down his erection. "I'm enjoying myself. So are you. And it's what you did for me last night, remember?" She even liked his smell, the musky sex scent of him.
"Yes, but — " A strangled sound emerged from his throat as Kate tested his taste, the tip of her tongue at the tip of him. "No," he said firmly, and pushed at her head.
"Yes," Kate said, and gave his tip a good, strong lick.
"Kate!" His fingers now tangled in her hair. "I can't do this. I mean, I'd like to believe I'm a trooper, tough as steel and all that, but if you do any more — well, I'm not going to have anything left for you, hon."
Kate glanced up at him through the hair that had fallen out of her ponytail. He looked like a man torn between his ego and his lust. "You'll have something left." She kept a good hold of his cock.
"I won't."
"You did last night."
"I did? Oh." A grin broke out over the conflict on his face. "Right, I did. But...you can't hold me to that. It was — you know, first time, extraordinary excitement. I couldn't possibly maintain that standard."
Kate smiled up at him. "Why don't we try you and see?"
"Kate. No — " What Griffith said next was more a garbled cry than words, for Kate had slipped the entire length of him into her mouth. "At least let me — I'm going to fall," he managed to get out, and actually stumbled as Kate slid him out of her mouth.
"Grab the branch above you," Kate recommended, and started a rhythm. She'd been right, he did taste good, like he smelled, all musk and man and sex.
Griffith groaned and grabbed the branch of the tree above his head. Kate's lips curved even as she continued to savor the size and taste of him.
She was definitely in control now.
Or was she?
His muttered praise, curses, and dire predictions made her want to laugh — and filled her chest with the oddest warmth. Oh, yes, with her mouth and her hands she had him completely in her power. She could make his strong male body jerk and stiffen. She could make him stand and receive everything she wanted to give him.
But why did she so urgently want to give him everything? She wanted him to have the thrust of need, the tease of anticipation, the building glow of pleasure. Every physical delight a man could want. And...and...even more...
"This isn't going to — You're not — I can't — " Griffith was starting to break. Kate wanted him to break. She wanted him to completely lose control, in her hands. She wanted to give and have and be. She sped her beats, trying to stay ahead of the feelings. Trying to keep this physical.
"Kate! Oh, please. Don't do this, I'm begging — " But his body wanted her to do it; his body was pumping in time to Kate's activity, wanting, needing. Yes, his body, just the physical.
His hoarse shout preceded the milky seed spurting out of him by a split second. With a strange lightness in her chest, Kate pulled back and scooped the foamy stuff in her hands; it felt like life itself. Of course it did. Griffith exuded life, vitality, the energy of being. And this was his seed. Him.
With her chest as light and full as the sky, Kate closed her eyes, only to have Griffith drop to his knees and, taking her with him, tumble them both to the blanket.
Suddenly entwined with him, surrounded and infused with his bulk, his heat, his essence, Kate's heart seemed to swell until it enclosed both herself and him within one large, vulnerable shell. She clung back.
It was only slowly, slowly, that she realized where she was, what was happening — how far off her intended road she'd strayed.
Damn! Her fingers dug into his shirt. This wasn't supposed to have happened. She'd chosen the most basic, physical pleasure to give him, something that wouldn't even involve her own sexual need. But here she was, rolled all together with him...lost.
"Kate," Griffith whispered, barely a sound.
Kate went perfectly still.
"Kate," he said again, and hugged her closer.
Kate was barely breathing. Griffith was shuddering violently. But the way he'd said her name just then...as if he hadn't wanted to say her name like that, but hadn't been able to stop himself. In the midst of her confusion and distress, she heard that.
"Kate, Kate, Kate." Griffith was holding her much too tightly, but Kate hardly noticed.
Frowning, she said, "Griffith?"
He kept his tight hold, shuddering against her.
"Griffith?" Kate said again. "Let me see your face."
He shook his head vigorously against the blanket.
Kate frowned over his mussed hair. Why wouldn't he let her see his face? Surely that didn't mean — ? She looked down at the tiny crescent of cheek visible beside Griffith's ear. Did that mean that he was affected, too? Was he lost, like she was? Were they together in this madness?
Very carefully, as if she might set off something explosive by doing so, she sifted her fingers through Griffith's hair. He squeezed her closer, and tucked his nose beneath her neck.
Kate felt something inside of her crack. Inside the something was a tiny drop of excitement, and a huge load of alarm. This was not merely physical — not for her, or for him. They'd been kidding themselves. More was involved here, higher stakes.
With a deep sigh, Griffith managed to squeeze her even tighter.
Carefully, Kate ran her fingers through his hair some more. She began to shudder, herself. "Oh, Griffith," she whispered, and was very afraid that it sounded like a song.
~~~
That night Griffith's idea about maybe not building Wildwood went from vague and fuzzy to sharp and clear. The notion swirled and clarified sometime between climaxing thanks to Kate's sweet mouth and doing so again in her hot channel. Afterward, close beside Kate on the blanket, his hand smoothing over and over her skin, Griffith wondered how he ever could have imagined sending bulldozers up this mountain. This was too — This was so —
Griffith rose on one elbow the better to view his lover. Not building Wildwood would cost him upwards of five million dollars in lost profit, it would raise seriously disturbed eyebrows among his business associates, but at that moment looking down into Kate's sweet face, he thought killing the project could well open up a new and splendorous world.
"Kate," he said, and ran his palm down her arm. He needed to touch her, to see her, to hear the breath of life sigh in and out of her lips.
Being with her, Griffith felt...complete.
The hell this was merely physical. Griffith had had plenty of physical affairs. In fact, every single relationship he'd ever had with a
woman had been purely physical.
This bore no resemblance whatsoever.
Now, however, looking down at her, he wondered if he detected...displeasure. "Hey," he murmured, and brushed a finger down her cheek. "You okay?"
She immediately widened her half-masted eyes. "What? Who, me?" She cleared her throat. "Sure, I'm okay. Just dandy. But I, uh, suppose we really ought to go back to camp."
Griffith hesitated. Funny, she didn't sound okay. She sounded...off.
The next instant she rolled to get up, her hair falling to conceal her face. "Come on," she said, and sniffed. "I'll help you fold the blanket."
Was she all right? Griffith tried to peer under her hair and into her face. She caught him at it, tossed back her hair and smiled.
Griffith relaxed. "Wait," he said. "You have some leaves..."
"What? Oh." Kate stood still while Griffith pulled some oak leaves out of her hair. He smiled at her. She, after a brief hesitation, smiled back.
Warmth rushed through him. This was...so good.
They got dressed and then Kate helped Griffith fold the blanket. Together, they walked back to her cabin.
Griffith bid her good-night in front of her closed door. She made up for the closed door, however, by bestowing on him the most amazing good-night kiss ever. Poignant and tender and caring.
Sweet. Oh, the whole night had been the sweetest time of his life.
It had been the pinnacle, the very apex of his existence.
Griffith walked back to his bunkhouse not even minding he was walking on air. He might have continued this air-walking if Orlando hadn't brought him back to earth the very next day.
Griffith's campers were picking potatoes again. It was not Griffith's favorite activity, but he endeavored to do his best, tossing one potato after another into the bin. It was tedious, back-breaking work, but Griffith was still riding the high of the night before. He would have spent the entire morning happily bending over and picking potatoes off the ground if Orlando hadn't interrupted his happy musings.
"You okay, Mr. Griffith?" Orlando bent to retrieve a potato Griffith had missed getting into the big blue bin.
"Woops," Griffith said, with a loopy grin. "Thanks, Orlando. Yeah, I'm fine."
Griffith bent to the ground again while Orlando moved to work just in front of him. "'Cause I've been thinkin'," Orlando said.
"Uh huh." Griffith straightened and tossed two potatoes toward the bin. These made it in.
Orlando sucked in his lips and straightened to toss his own potatoes. "I been thinkin' you've been real good to me, with these lessons you're giving me and all."
"Ah, that's not being good," Griffith corrected. "We have a deal."
"Right, right." Orlando brushed his hands. "Still, I been thinkin' it's not right. You, stuck here, when you really want to be back in L.A. And how maybe I'm kinda taking advantage, getting these lessons from you, benefiting, you might say, from your unhappy situation."
Griffith weighed a potato and frowned at the boy. Where was he going with this?
Orlando shrugged. "I do know the way down the hill...if you still want to go."
Griffith went still. He stared at Orlando. "You're offering to help me escape?" Now?
Orlando shrugged again.
Griffith's eyes narrowed. "If I left, there wouldn't be any more boxing lessons."
A muscle jerked in Orlando's jaw. "I know that."
Griffith's head tilted as he regarded the boy. Around them potatoes were flying into the bin, tossed by campers in various rows about them. Griffith knew how much the lessons meant to Orlando, the chance to give himself some power.
Was this an outbreak of guilt? Or...was it a sign of the affection he'd earned from the kid?
Orlando chanced a glance in Griffith's direction and Griffith instantly saw he had it wrong. Orlando was feeling neither guilt nor affection.
More like anger and suspicion.
"You want me gone." Griffith was surprised at the pain he felt.
Orlando's young jaw hardened. "I don't want you messin' with Miss Kate."
Griffith was utterly taken aback, and pink with embarrassment. Just what had the kid seen? "Messing?" he queried carefully.
Orlando turned narrowed eyes on him. "Making her think you're sweet on her. Using her."
"Oh." Griffith was still unsure just what Orlando had seen. "And you think I'm messing with her because — ?"
Orlando's eyes got even narrower. "Because you've left me in charge two nights in a row, and you come back to the bunkhouse like you're drunk."
"Ah." Griffith supposed he probably had returned in such a condition, though he hadn't thought Orlando had been awake to witness it. "Well, I..." He puffed out his cheeks and wondered how to allay a fourteen-year-old's well-founded suspicions. "I'm not messing with Miss Kate. At least...I'm not trying to mess with her. I'm — " He released a nervous laugh. "I'm kind of messed-with myself, matter of fact. By her."
Orlando frowned fiercely. "Huh."
"It's the truth." It was so true, in fact, and rather dismaying, that Griffith bent to pick up another potato. With an underhanded sling, he tossed it into the blue bin. "I'm — We're — It's kind of a relationship." Terror snaked through his belly. Was that what it was?
"Huh," Orlando said again. He crossed his arms over his T-shirt. "So...you're serious about her?"
Griffith bent to pick up another potato. He looked down and weighed it in his hand. Was he serious about her? He adored being with her. He liked the person he was when he was with her. He was probably going to forfeit several million dollars in profit to avoid making her unhappy. "I'm pretty serious."
But Orlando wanted specifics. "So you don't want me to take you down the hill?"
Griffith shook his head, even as he registered how strange the decision was.
"And you're going to, like, keep seeing Miss Kate after camp is over?"
The snake of terror in Griffith's belly dove deeper. Was he? Orlando was asking the questions Griffith had been too afraid to ask himself. Just where was this going?
Griffith crossed his arms over his chest, mirroring Orlando's posture. "I'm not sure yet. I — I'd like to." The snake of terror burrowed in. Yes, he would like to.
Orlando gave Griffith a good, long stare. "You'd like to."
A rough laugh escaped Griffith. "It's not all on me. Kate has to want to keep seeing me." But would she? Why would she? What did he really have to offer her?
Orlando cocked his head to one side. "You don't know if she'd want to?"
The snake was so deep and cold inside Griffith he felt turned to stone. But a tiny, rational part of his brain remembered Kate's sweet kiss the night before, the soft look in her eyes. She might want to keep seeing Griffith after camp was over, she really might.
It was too early to panic.
On the other hand, when had Griffith ever earned a human being's affection?
Griffith managed to unclamp his jaw. "I don't know," he told Orlando. "I have no idea how Kate would feel about still seeing me..." He took a deep and terrified breath. "But maybe I ought to find out."
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Something was different, Ricky thought. He lay in Deirdre's bed with Deirdre in his arms and the after-effects of their recent lovemaking sifting pleasantly through his body, but not getting the satisfaction he should have received from the experience.
He felt antsy, rather than contented. Anxious, as opposed to relaxed. Deirdre's curvy body was pressed close to his, soft and warm, but he didn't feel...settled.
Deirdre did not appear to have the same problem, squirming up on one elbow to look down at him. Her smile said she was feeling quite contented, indeed. "Hey," she murmured.
"Hey," Ricky replied.
Deirdre pressed a fingertip to the center of his chest. "So, what do you think?"
"I think you're the best thing that ever happened to me." Long ago, Ricky had stopped counting the lies.
Deirdre's lashes dropped. "You're not so
bad, yourself," she replied huskily.
As Ricky patted her naked rear, he felt even less settled.
Deirdre laughed softly. "But what I meant was, what do you think about what Simon Grolier said to me at lunch yesterday?" Deirdre's smile faded. "In retrospect it's getting even creepier. Do you think he kidnapped Griffith?"
So, maybe she wasn't as settled as she seemed. She was back to the story she'd told him over dinner, about her sinister lunch with the infamous Simon Grolier.
To Ricky it sounded like a fairly straightforward bribe. There was no indication Grolier knew Griffith was missing, let alone that he'd had anything to do with his disappearance. But Ricky knew Deirdre was worried about her boss, for some reason, and so he pretended to think it over. "Mm. It's possible, but first of all, we don't even know if Griffith's been kidnapped. And secondly, kidnapping seems like an awful risk to take for a respectable businessman like Grolier."
Her brows curled. "Yeah. I suppose."
Ricky put his arm around Deirdre. Her paranoia about Simon Grolier wasn't what he wanted to talk about. He wanted her to tell him if the bank had called with his technical questions regarding the water. Had she been able to put them off, or were things starting to fall apart on Wildwood?
Laying her head on his chest, Deirdre released a gusty sigh. "Yes, you're definitely right. Grolier wouldn't have dared the risk. Although I'm afraid someone must have snatched Griffith."
Ricky looked down at her silky brown hair. The unsettled feeling in his stomach deepened. He wasn't worried about Griffith. A man that underhanded could take care of himself. But when would the damn bank call Deirdre already? Ricky wondered if her inability to answer their questions would be enough to sour them on the Wildwood project, and finally... He wondered if Deirdre would make a connection between this killer phone call and himself.
Would she realize only he could have made this kind of trouble for her? Would she figure out what he'd been doing to her for the past four weeks?
Not that it would matter if she did find out. Not if the bank's questions had the desired effect: squashing Wildwood. Who cared if she then pulled the plug on this relationship — which wasn't really a relationship at all? So what? Ricky wanted it to end.