“And jelly—on—top—” he yelled, laughing because he couldn’t control his tongue or his dick or his hands or the wild slamming of his hips against hers and he knew she was lost too. They clung to each other and panted, and his eyes shut by themselves. He waited for the room to stop spinning.
Chapter Twenty-Five
“Well, that was interesting,” she said.
He laughed. “Princess, you never stop surprising me.”
“Really?” She sounded pathetically pleased.
He brushed the long white-gold hair out of her eyes. “You’re amazing,” he said dreamily. Who would have thought this prim princess would be so full of fire? Or silliness. He remembered some of her crazy words now, as crazy as his own. “Thunder?”
Her beautiful brow furrowed. She said in a small voice, “Would it—” and stopped.
“What do you want? Half my kingdom.”
“Would it be unromantic of me to go to the bathroom?”
“I’ll warm up the sheets.” Reluctantly he let go of her.
She pulled the coverlet with her and shuffled off, wrapped up to the throat in gold like a Greek statue, trailing condoms.
King Dave dumped his condom in the wastebasket and slid between the sheets. Man. Who would have thought? She was a total find. Sweet, gorgeous, great with his kid, the world’s tightest pussy and, for a miracle, she thought he was okay. She could have no illusions about him—that scene in the alley with the spray paint must have killed illusion, if his reputation hadn’t already done that.
Plus his performance these past two weeks. Here in his bedroom, where he faced up to things, he acknowledged that she was taking a huge chance on him.
Just another fuckin’ waitress, his old man said in his head.
The sun had set while he and Nadine sported on the gold coverlet. He got up and lit more candles and hopped back into bed, sending a silent apology to the Virgin Mary against the wall. Some things he wasn’t ready to confess until he’d finished doing them. He’d light new candles tomorrow.
Here she came, without the gold wrapper. His heart swelled up hot. She was naked and tall and built, her chin up and her hair pouring over her shoulders, gleaming by candlelight. She saw him looking and blushed. Blushed all over. Wow. That was a lot of blush.
He reached for her and, just like that, she came to him. Big so what, screamed his father’s voice in his head, they’re all alike. She’s beautiful, he thought, to drown Dad out. I love her. As she took his hand, and warmth and safety washed over him, he knew he wanted to keep her.
She slid in beside him, all the long fleshy pink length of her snuggling up. Wild feelings whipsawed him. She’s the one. I can be happy now. Tammy took my kid, what will this one take? I need this. It’s a drug, it’ll cost another half my income. Why would she want a dope like me? She’s so beautiful. She likes me.
“You look worried,” she said. Her arms wrapped around his head and drew him down under the sheet, so that his face came to rest between her breasts. “Everything’s okay now.”
She petted his head. He felt like a fool, a dog, a little kid, unbearably happy.
It was while he lay there, panting with the effort of trying to stay happy, that he remembered he’d omitted one important step in waitress seduction.
“Princess?” he said in a muffled voice.
“Mmm?” She snuggled against him even closer.
The bad thoughts flew away. “Did that worthless Bubjerk ever go down on you?”
Nadine swallowed. What was going down? Her locker-room vocabulary was limited. Was that the one where they put the condom on you instead of on them? She couldn’t see how it could be done, but if King Dave wanted to try, she was up for it.
She hoped she wasn’t still bleeding. She hadn’t realized what that sharp pain was, back there in the middle of thunder and lightning and sliding under King Dave like a maniac. She’d high-tailed it to the bathroom with the bloody coverlet as soon as she could. There was a hamper in the bathroom. Feeling guilty for spoiling his beautiful coverlet, she’d wadded up the gold fabric and stuffed it in. Some quick work with the corner of a wet towel and she’d felt tidy enough to come back to bed.
With King Dave Flaherty! She ran her hands over his dark curls and his wonderful shoulders and thought how great it was to have her first real Chicago adventure with someone who knew how to do it. Holding him between her breasts felt exactly as grand as she had expected. “This is really nice.”
He chuckled against her breast. “I take it that’s a No.”
“Uh?” Oh, right. He’d asked about Bub going out on her. Or wherever. “Probably not. Or maybe. I don’t know,” she admitted, feeling pathetically naive.
King Dave laughed out loud. He pulled free and propped himself on his elbow. “You’re one in a million, know that?”
She blushed. “Oh, no. I’m....” She stopped, realizing the power of what she was about to say. “I’m really very ordinary.” What an astounding thought. She was just this ordinary country girl, come to the big city for adventure like anyone. For the first time, her father’s cold shoulder felt like a gift.
I’m ordinary. I don’t have to be a saint or a virgin or any of those uncomfortable things Daddy liked about me. Which reminded her, she owed King Dave an apology. “I’ve been bad.”
He paused in the act of nibbling his way down her shoulder. “Yeah, and it was wonderful. Did I say Thank You yet?”
“No, really,” she said, tipping his chin so she could make eye contact. “I was sanctimonious and rude to you. You’re entitled to retribution.”
He looked amused. “Golly. Does that mean I can go down on you twice?”
She swallowed. “If you want. You’ve—I—” The truth was hard. “Lately I’ve realized that—that I’m not entitled to admonish anyone. But I do. I did. I won’t do it any more.”
“Don’t sprain anything. I like you the way you are.”
She laughed. “Wish I knew what way that is.” Then she remembered what go down on you was. “Are you still orange?”
“Not very. I gotta tell you, that margarine worked wonders. Not overnight, mind you, but it was a great help.”
“Margarine?” she said incredulously.
“You suggested it. I think you said to try lard, but do I look like the kind of guy who keeps lard in the house?”
She let out a peal of laughter. “You rubbed it with margarine? Let’s shower,” she said, thinking of blood on his thing, on her thighs.
“I’ve got a better idea.” Suddenly his eyes were hot and focused. “I’ll lick you clean.”
Her mouth went dry. “Lick?” she squeaked. “No. Lick?”
“You’re gonna tell me No? After all this?”
“I most certainly am! What kind of question is that?”
He grinned like an unrepentant fallen angel. “It’s a Catholic boy trick. You’re supposed to think we’ve already done the ultimate in depraved sex, and cave.”
“Daddy’s Baptist.”
“Well, shit, no wonder it’s not working on you. C’mon, Nadine, I gotta do this. Every woman I ever went down on, bam, she became my slave. It’s a matter of honor.”
“I don’t understand—”
“Of course you don’t. Do I have to tie you to the bed?”
Her eyes widened. “Uh, not on the first date, thanks.”
“Okay, then,” he said. “Lie back and think about England.”
Helplessly, she did. At least, not about England. It felt funny, giggly and embarrassing because she could feel his breath puffing on her down there. Then he hit a good spot. She clutched his hair instinctively. Stuff happened, way too fast for her to figure out what or how, and then she felt the thunder rumble again, rushing through her body like a tornado, felt it bounce, felt the crack and shatter of heat lightning over and over until she begged him to stop so she could count the echoing heartbeats in between. He laid his head on her belly and slid one finger inside her, making her twist and shout one more
time.
“Why do you do that?” she said after the echoes died out.
“Do what?”
“With your finger.”
His voice vibrated against her tummy. “So I can feel you coming inside.”
“You can feel that?” That figured. If it rocked her world, he must get a hint of it himself.
“You squeeze,” he said.
The thought made her squeeze around his finger again. Then she knew what he meant. “Oh.” She closed her eyes and listened to the blood pound in her ears. “King Dave, thanks for being my first—my first Chicago adventure.”
She barely caught herself in time. She mustn’t tell him how inexperienced she was. There was only one way to get respect in the big city. She wanted his respect more than anything.
Ah-hah. Okay, now he understood. He was an adventure.
King Dave felt simultaneous delight and a terrible sinking of his spirits. So that was what he meant to her. Okay. Good thing I’m not interested in marriage again. He felt let down.
“Nothing to it, princess.”
“It means a lot to me. You’re so nice,” she said and he felt like killing himself.
She snuggled against him. Her pussy clenched tight around his finger once more. Man, talk about a hair trigger. Be a shame to say goodbye to that at the end of the month.
“Hey, I can be nice,” he said hoarsely.
But it was just as well. Pretty soon the old man would relent and let him go back to work, and he’d be buried alive until the end of the Opera season, months from now. No waitress survived that schedule. He should know.
“I do my best work on a short-term contract.”
“Contract?” She lifted her head off his shoulder.
He pulled his finger out of her and leaned on his elbow a few inches away from her. It felt like he’d withdrawn a mile.
“Yeah, you know. The no-strings kind. Like we have.”
“We have a contract?” she said in a puzzled, hurt voice.
Oh shit. He felt helpless to stop now. He was only an adventure. Set limits. He knew adventurous women, his whole social calendar was dominated by them, they liked limits.
Nadine didn’t look happy.
“We’re strictly for laughs. Couple of weeks, right? Maybe a month. I’ve got another two weeks of suspension,” he offered, feeling like roadkill on toast.
Just an adventure. Damn, that hurt.
She drew away from him, blinking, and he felt like shooting himself. “I never said—”
“’Course you didn’t,” he said. “You’re fine. You’re great,” he added, probably not as quickly as he should have.
“But it’s only for two more weeks,” she said flatly. No part of her body was touching his. “You don’t have to tell me.”
He reached for her and she pulled even farther back.
“Getting it on the table here. So we both know. Don’t you hate not knowing what’s going to happen?” But he knew what was going to happen. And he hated it. “Most girls,” he said desperately, “most girls I see like to know where the limits are.”
She slid out of bed and pulled her dress over her head. “I guess I’m not like those girls,” she said from inside the blue stretchy stuff. She sounded weepy. His heart twisted.
“Of course you aren’t,” he agreed, sweating. His Mom had said this morning, She’s not like the tramps you run around with. “You’re different, all right,” he muttered, feeling outnumbered.
Nadine’s head popped out of the top of the dress. She sent him a glare that cut him to the gizzard.
“Look, I’m sorry,” he said.
“Shut up,” she snapped. “Shut. Up.” There were tears in her eyes, but she sounded more mad than sad. She stumbled, peering at the floor. “Oooo, rats, where did I put my shoes?”
“Doorway,” he said automatically. “And your purse.”
She snatched up the shoes and purse, glaring holes in him. For a long moment they held still, she panting and looking hurt, he feeling miserable. Then, with a visible effort, she drew herself up to goddess height, took a deep breath, licked her lips, sniffled, and swallowed.
“Thank you for a lovely day, King Dave. It—” Her forehead wrinkled and she sniffled again. “It meant a lot to me.”
Only a filthy hypocrite would say, Me too, after the stupid fucking idiotic asshole things he’d already said. King Dave opened his mouth to say it anyway. But she began to swim around, scrambling into her shoes, and he blinked a lot and decided to put his energy into watching her while he still had the chance. The candlelight shone on her falling hair.
“Bye,” she said, standing up in her shoes, clutching her purse to her chest. Then she ran out.
Mom also said, She’ll never marry you.
Called that one right anyway.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Nadine strode the six blocks to the bus stop under the deep shadow of linden trees in flower. The night smelled like her mother’s favorite perfume. Her breath smelled like champagne, which made her feel even more degraded. Tears dripped onto her collarbone. She hadn’t intended to feel degraded, since it was her choice to sleep with King Dave, but since he’d told her she was lousy in bed, now she felt bad.
It had been a lovely day. And he’d been great for her first time. She opened her mouth wide so the tears could run faster. She hadn’t missed his hesitation as he’d said, You’re great. Or, even worse, You’re different all right.
She imagined what he might say at work to the guys. Nope, Nadine didn’t know her way around a bed.
She’d never pretended she knew what she was doing. Now she was a slut and a klutz in bed!
She let go and boo-hooed out loud, right there on the sidewalk. Nobody in Chicago would care.
She should have accepted his two weeks with more grace. It wasn’t as if she disagreed with him. He’d make a lousy husband. Except for his lovemaking. And how good he was with his little boy. And his rough yet meticulous courtesy, and his generosity, and how his eyes lit up when he laughed at her. But how good was a good provider who was never there to eat the meals he paid for?
And he didn’t want her. She wasn’t like the other girls.
She choked out an angry sob, thinking of the brassy girl he’d brought into Liz Otter’s to flaunt at her.
I’ll never see Davy Junior again. She dissolved once more.
Her feet hurt. The strappy sandals blistered her. The blue jersey dress smelled of food and sex. And here, at the bus stop, as she got into a packed Bryn Mawr bus and dropped coins into the machine, she realized she wasn’t wearing underwear.
She’d left it on King Dave’s bedroom floor.
Demoralized, she wormed into the packed standees, gripped the bar with one hand and clamped her purse with its secret lode of condoms and clean underpants under her arm.
King Dave stomped bare-assed to the kitchen and opened the refrigerator door. He should go after her. No reason on God’s earth to let her feel bad.
I was just setting the limits, he told himself. We both need to think reality here. He stared into the fridge light, feeling like he’d been hit upside the head with a board.
She hadn’t even told him off. Not Nadine. Just that big dewy look and Thank you for a lovely day. She meant it. After he’d chased her ass out. How low could a guy go?
Go get her. Don’t let her leave feeling like that.
Stubbornly he stared into the fridge at a six pack of beer and three tubs of margarine. Christ, what a nonlife. The look on her face, too hurt even to get mad, stayed with him and tore him up. Go after her.
He yanked the six pack and a tub of margarine out of the fridge and stomped back to the bathroom. May as well make sure the Day-Glo orange is over.
He stood in the hot shower with his eyes closed for a long time. His manly-smelling shampoo got the waitress off his skin, and a close inspection of ground zero, with spot applications of margarine, took care of the last lingering orange specks. The beer soothed his lacerated
nerves.
He got back between sheets that smelled of Nadine. By then the beer had taken hold and, as usual, he was totally buzzed after a lousy six pack, so changing the sheets was out. He stared at the ceiling, thinking in circles, blaming the beer and regretting it, regretting everything, like, the day he was born.
It was June. Hot enough to sleep naked.
So he didn’t find the blood on the coverlet stuffed into the bathroom hamper until he stripped the bed next morning.
He squeezed the coverlet in his hands.
Oh. My. God. Blood on his fancy gold coverlet.
Virgin’s blood.
Swear words fell from his lips. No wonder she got huffy. Not like the others. Not like, as Mom had put it, those tramps he ran around with. Nadine was a virgin and he hadn’t known it and he’d popped her cherry and he’d brushed her off even while he had his finger up her pussy. Oh, man.
Dread and horror filled him.
He dragged the coverlet into the bedroom, shuffling on leaden feet. The Holy Mother was still turned to the wall. He relit all the candles and cautiously, as if lightning might smite him in the act, turned Her face out. He dropped to his knees.
“Hail Mary, oh, shit, I didn’t know. Honest, I didn’t. Well, I might have had a clue, I mean, she is a PK, and my Mom was right. Oh jeez. ’Scuse me, ’scuse me. Oh, man.” He put both hands on his head and clonked his forehead against the bureau. “Shit.”
He was a little stunned that the species hadn’t died out. It seemed impossible that a babe of Nadine’s proportions had stayed out of guys’ beds for so long.
“And she gave it to me. Of all people! Oh, Christ. Uh, sorry, sorry.” He mumbled his Hail Mary, mentally slapping himself on the head at the same time. “...Now and in the hour of our death. King Dave, you are a seriously dumb fuck.”
He realized now that she was probably in love with him. That made him nervous. But it didn’t make his sin any better.
“I have to apologize to her,” he promised Mother Mary. “Shit, there’s nothing I can do to fix this, is there? I mean, you could strike me dead and it wouldn’t fix it. I’ve got to try to heal some of the damage. Convince her she’s not a slut.”
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