“No.” She gasped at the sensation, unable to stop from squirming. His hand traced small slick circles that she found irresistible.
He moaned softly as she angled herself, capturing his teasing hand with hers and wrapping her fingers around him.
She couldn’t keep her hands off of him, couldn’t keep her tongue in her mouth. She loved the taste of his skin, had wondered about it for days.
“Why shouldn’t we be here?” He shifted his hips and she groaned with pleasure, with torment.
She had no response other than to tug and pull at his clothes until they, too, were in a pile on the floor. Erin wrapped her arms around his neck and viciously kissed him as he slid inside. The only thing that separated them was her panties and when she touched the waistband to push them down, Spence captured her fingers, loathing the thought of withdrawal.
“No; I like them on,” he said, rubbing against the silk fabric as he slid in and out of her. He laughed and splayed his hands across her bottom, first cupping her towards him then lifting her up as his strokes lengthened.
Erin arched her back, seeking that electric sensation. Her breathing grew fast and shallow, and she wanted him to move quickly. Instead, Spence captured her hips, slowing her frenzied movements. “Slow down, baby. Not yet,” he whispered, his mouth once again fastening on her breast.
Her head sagged as she struggled to separate pleasure and torture. She wanted desperately to move with him, but her body insisted on its own rhythm. Beads of perspiration formed on her upper lip as she concentrated on that sweet, deep tug. Her climax took her by surprise, beginning as a slow, rippling wave. She whimpered at the dizzying force then froze, wanting to hold onto the sweet sensation. She could feel herself flexing and grasping Spence who, with a guttural cry of pleasure, crushed her hips into his. Convulsions wracked his body.
Exhausted, Erin sank, placing her fevered cheek against his chest. She heard his heart thunder, felt his arms tremble as they wrapped around her and she secretly gloated at her power. She snuggled into him, her arm possessively draped across his waist. She yawned and within moments lethargy won and she slept.
Spence continued to caress her in the moonlight. Her fair, blonde hair fell beneath her shoulders, curling over one breast. Her dark eyebrows arched softly over heavy-lidded eyes that he thought may be closer to emerald than ordinary green. Her nose was straight and small; her lips were soft and curved. Their lovemaking had removed her lipstick, but passion had reddened them and his kisses had left them swollen. He continued his survey, down her neck to the tiny gold chain with a small key charm. He smiled as he recalled her reluctance when he bought it on a whim from a Duval Street art gallery. He insisted she wear it knowing that evening it would be the only thing touching her skin -- besides him and the bed sheets.
Her dusky-tipped breasts rose with each breath and his hands ached to touch them. He licked his lips, remembering their fullness and her urgent demands that he suck harder.
She pulled on a sheet after their lovemaking, and it rested lightly on her rounded hip. Her legs, invisible beneath the blanket, were long and tapered. During the past week, she had developed a golden glow, despite copious amounts of sunscreen.
She is so beautiful, he thought as he drifted to sleep.
Chapter Ten
When Erin awoke, she studied Spence’s sleeping profile and frowned. She once again felt embarrassed and shy and tried to slip out of the bed. Without opening his eyes, he caught her wrist and pulled her to him.
“Where are you going?”
She hesitated, unable to answer. When he turned his head and opened his eyes she blushed and stammered.
“Shhh, baby. It’s okay.” He kissed her gently and tucked her under his arm, pushing her head onto his chest. Again, she could hear his heartbeat, steady and slow now. Timidly, she touched him, her fingers making slow sweeps along his abdomen. He caught her hand in his, placed the palm against his lips. A feeling of warmth washed over her and she snuggled against him.
“What do you want to do today?”
Erin had no reply; her mind a blank except for the sensation of his body against hers. She turned her back to him, curling into a ball. He nuzzled the back of her neck and, feeling her shiver, started gently biting it. Her legs straightened and she found his hands, cupped them under her breasts. She rubbed her bottom against him suggestively.
“Okay. We’ll stay in,” he said.
Later, they took a shower together and after a light lunch, strolled through the streets holding hands. She bought a straw hat to keep the sun from burning her nose. They stopped at a boutique and she found a colorful, cotton sundress she liked. He followed her into the changing room and helped her remove it, his hands on her body, his kisses drugging her. He chuckled at her dreamy expression.
“You like that?”
“Yes, I do.”
Erin didn’t realize it, caught up in her own euphoria, but Spence was enchanted by her every move. He couldn’t stop watching her, couldn’t keep his hands off of her. Every few minutes he stopped her for a kiss.
She accepted all of his attention without question. Being with Spence was the easiest and the most wonderful thing she had ever done, once she quit resisting.
They spent a week in Key West, exploring, eating, and making love. At every sunset, they stood shoulder-to-shoulder on Mallory Pier and watched the sky melt into hot orange, then brilliant pinks and purples.
They spent one night and late into the next morning on the “Duval Crawl,” a favorite pastime of tourists and locals alike. The crawl consisted of barhopping on Duval Street and included famous places like Sloppy Joe's, as well as the not-so-famous, yet still charming, dives. Tequila flows like water in Key West, Erin thought.
They explored Old City, riding scooters and hopping trolleys. He leased a powerboat and took her deep-sea fishing, laughing with joy when she hooked -- then lost -- a marlin.
When it was time to leave, Erin shuffled several shopping bags into the spare berth. Spence had given her a necklace, a Key West bracelet, emerald earrings, several new bathing suits, and some interesting lingerie from a specialty store that also catered to the local drag queens.
Erin reluctantly accepted his gifts, embarrassed by his generosity. She also felt lovingly spoiled, and found she craved his smile, his approval. He silenced her protests with his relentless lips and warm, strong hands.
“Not fair, not fair,” she murmured one morning as he pulled one of the emerald earrings out of the velvet box and placed it in her belly button.
“They’re the same color as your eyes,” he whispered, his tongue tracing her inner thigh.
Back on the catamaran, they explored shallow waters and cays where deep-drafted sailboats couldn’t venture, and she perfected her tan, without lines. She discovered that she enjoyed lying around nude, while Spence stood at the wheel, his sunglasses on, the breeze whipping through his wavy hair. It was a luxurious life and they agreed to spend another week cruising the Keys.
Finally, Spence turned the cat north. On the voyage home, Erin worked steadily with him on the book, e-mailing McDowell two more chapters. They hadn’t kept to her schedule, and Erin found it increasingly difficult to keep track of time.
Once the boat was secure in its dock at the Ocracoke marina, Erin tossed her canvas tote bag and her briefcase into the backseat of the SUV. Shopping bags filled the trunk.
Spence lifted the floor mat, picked up the keys and smiled. “Ready to go home?”
Erin thrilled at the words as if it were, indeed, her home. She nodded shyly.
* * *
The first two days, Spence worked in his studio. Erin didn’t intrude; she understood the artist’s method. She spent her time sightseeing, visiting the lighthouses nearby and shopping in the village. She bought groceries and planned meals, tuning into cooking shows for recipes. Some worked, some didn’t. Spence gamely ate all, even chili so hot that tears rolled down his cheeks. “What? I love spicy food!” he protested.<
br />
It had been more than a year since she and Aidan had played house. In truth, their relationship dissolved long before their divorce, each more interested in their careers than in each other.
Spence was different, Erin told herself. Not that they had a relationship, but everything about him was larger than life. He was exuberant, vital, virile and always smiling. Around Spence, she felt feminine and desired. He entertained her. He laughed at her jokes, swept her into bear hugs, and courageously ate her cooking.
At night, they snuggled into the hammock and gazed at the stars. He told her about his work, the artists he admired. Supremely confident in all things, still he was amazed that people paid small fortunes for his paintings.
One morning he asked her to pose for him.
All of a sudden Erin felt shy. As an editor, she had worked hard to not intrude in other people’s art. She cleaned, pared, molded but never left her own creative mark. To be a part of Spence’s painting would leave a permanent mark, she thought.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” she said as she pulled the champagne coverlet up to her chin.
“I do. Stay right here.”
A few minutes later he had returned with a large canvas, his easel and tackle box of paints. She sat up, filled with anxiety. He came to her and pushed her back on the bed. “I have to hurry. This is the right light,” he added. He arranged her arms behind her head and bent one knee. He shoved a pillow under her back, thrusting her breasts in the air. A few minutes later he had her hair the way he wanted and stepped back to survey. She felt like a pin-up girl and said so.
“That’s it, exactly. Are you familiar with Alberto Vargas?”
“No. Who’s he?”
“He’s an artist from the 1930s and ‘40s. He painted the most beautiful women in the world. You must have seen his ‘Betty Grable Moon over Miami’ poster.”
“Is that all I am to you? A pin-up girl?”
“Well, you’ve got all these nice curves and such big, soft …”
“Alright, I get it. I’m going on a diet tomorrow.”
“Oh, no you don’t. This painting is going to take a little longer than that.”
“You mean I have to lay here all day, naked while you stare at me?”
“And that’s different from other days how?”
* * *
By the end of the week, the canvas was taking shape.
Erin was flattered. “I wish I looked that good!”
Inspired, Spence made several pastel sketches of her in various outfits. He asked her to wear only her stockings and garters in one, just an apron in another. A third he sketched with her in her red cocktail dress, lying on the sofa. He had tugged the bodice low, with her nipples barely visible. One hand pulled her skirt up her thigh; her other hand was arranged behind her head. He had her keep one leg on the floor, the other bent and on the sofa. She wore her silver shoes and a pair of red panties lay on the floor.
“This is really hot,” she said.
“You’re telling me,” he replied.
“I mean, hot hot.”
“I’m nearly finished.”
Soon he put down his pastel crayon and came over to the couch. Sweat beaded on her upper lip as she held the pose.
“Don’t move,” he whispered. He knelt beside the sofa and kissed her tenderly. Soon his lips were hungrily moving down her neck and fastening on her half-hidden nipples. His hand slid under her skirt, and he began rubbing her. Within moments she was purring into his ear.
“This is what I wanted you to do the first night I wore this,” she confessed.
* * *
It had been two months since she had left D.C. Patricia called for an update.
“Erin? How are you and Spence getting along?”
“Fine. Everything’s great.”
“I’m calling because I’ve had a chance to review the outline and chapters you’ve filed. I know you can work faster than this. What’s the problem?”
“No problem. Everything’s great,” she repeated. “Spence has been painting a lot lately.”
She neglected to say that she was his subject and that when he wasn’t painting, they were either in bed making love or eating. It occurred to Erin that the bulk of her time had been spent on pleasing herself and Spence. She hadn’t even had time to read the paperbacks she’d brought along.
“Well, you’ve got him on a schedule, at least, but the quality is not there. These chapters are too thin and they’re primarily technique. We need more input from the artist’s point of view. Do a little psycho analyzing, for God’s sake. That was your minor in college, wasn’t it?”
“Yes, that’s right. Will do. Thanks for calling. Bye.”
Erin hung up quickly, hoping that Patricia had been stalled.
Spence, who was painting her toenails for his next pin-up poster, asked, “Who was that?”
“Patricia McDowell. She wanted to know how we’re doing on the book. I lied, of course.”
He lifted her foot, blew gently on the red polish and smiled wickedly.
“Spence,” she said with a sigh. “This is a bit silly, don’t you think? I’m not your doll baby.”
“No, you’re my pin-up girl. Believe me, there’s a difference.”
“Haven’t I done everything you’ve asked?”
“Haven’t I done everything you’ve asked?” he echoed.
“Mostly, but it’s time to stop playing around.”
“But I like to play with you.”
“Spence. You’re a grown man, and men don’t act this way. Quit tickling my feet.”
He grinned lecherously. “I know men don’t act this way. They just wish they could.”
“We need to buckle down and work,” she said frowning. “Maybe this house and all of your toys are too much of a distraction. How would you like to come home with me?”
“You mean D.C.?”
Erin quickly shook her head. No, the last thing she wanted was for Spence and Aidan to meet. Aidan. Hmmm, she thought, she hadn’t thought of him in a couple of months.
“No, I mean Pennsylvania. Do you remember I told you about my family’s cabin at the lake? It’s far from everything. We could focus on the book there.”
Spence was doubtful.
“I really like it here, though. I’ve got all these sketches going. I think it’s a great series. Don’t you enjoy working with me?”
“I do; I love it. But Patricia didn’t hire me to wear sexy underwear and pose for you. I really appreciate the fact that you like my body, but I have a mind, also.”
Spence put down the nail polish brush and stared at her in mock horror. She was reclining on the couch, a white fur cape hanging from a shoulder. Faux diamond pendants dangled from her ears. Her lips were vivid red, her eyes ringed with black fake lashes. She wore a black corset that pushed her large breasts out like torpedoes. The corset ended above her navel. A pair of black, lacy panties completed today’s ensemble.
“Baby, how could you ask me to give up all of this?” he asked in anguish.
“I think you’re over reacting. I think I look slutty.”
“You’re wrong. You’re a goddess.” He kissed her cheek, careful not to smudge her red, glistening lips and whispered against her ear. “I’ve got to sketch you now, while I can still stand up.”
Once again, Erin’s resolution to buckle down and finish the project dissolved.
Chapter Eleven
Erin texted her sister, saying she would be there soon. She recalled the phone conversation and how she had hedged, explaining only that she was bringing a client to work at the cabin for a few days.
After twelve hours on the road, the packed SUV cruised down a long, dusty driveway. It stopped in front of a white clapboard house with dark green shutters. In the distance, Spence spied a red barn bearing a large painted star. Chickens bobbed and weaved in the July heat, separated from the driveway by a wire fence. A couple of barn cats, fat and luxuriant, were perched outside the fence, focused
on the jerky movements of the plump hens.
A brown painted fence stretched from the barn and into the woods on the far hill. Cattle dotted the hillside and in a separate, smaller pasture Spence saw white spots.
“Those are sheep,” Erin said with an incline of her head. “I told you I was a farm girl. Come on, my sister and her husband are waiting to meet you.”
Erin caught Spence’s hand and pulled him towards the house as the front porch opened. A tall woman, a slightly faded version of Erin with a few extra pounds on her hips, stepped out and arms open.
Erin dropped Spence’s hand and rushed up the steps, sweeping her sister into a bear hug.
“I’m so glad to see you honey,” Mariah said, her cheek pressed against her younger sister’s golden hair. She looked beyond Erin’s shoulder and into Spence’s eyes. Her warm smile and green eyes were welcoming. He saw her lips move against Erin’s ear but didn’t hear her speak, “Oh my, he’s gorgeous. I want your job.”
* * *
“Mr. Spence, this is your room for tonight,” Mariah said, pushing on the door. “My husband, Jerry, hasn’t had a chance yet to air out the cabin. It’s been closed up all winter.”
White walls painted many years ago had faded to cream. The queen-size bed bore a handcrafted quilt, washed so often its flowers were pastel. A narrow window reached from the floor to the ceiling.
Erin walked over to the window and slid open the curtains, admiring the view, pastoral and green. “I’ve always loved this room,” she said.
Spence moved behind her, slid his arms around her, enveloping her body. He pushed his chin against the back of her neck, his lips caressing her hair. Erin instinctively leaned into his embrace.
Mariah’s eyes widened as she watched the couple, already oblivious to her. She backed to the bedroom door and slipped out, closing it quietly behind her. She suspected from the moment she saw her sister’s face, her “client” was much more than that. Their embrace only confirmed it.
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