Brows furrowed, Victoria protested, “Murmurs? I don’t murmur.”
“Believe me. You do.” Reclining against the back of the chair, Henry ran his fingers over his unshaven chin. With an impish grin, he asked, “Do you have a problem with murmuring?”
“Well, no,” Victoria answered, swirling her fork around the eggs. “It’s just that I never murmur when you make me come—I scream,” she said, looking up at him with a sly smile.
Henry shoveled a few more forkfuls of eggs into his mouth and then scooted his chair away from the table, a loud skidding sound echoing through the room. In less than a second, he stood beside her. He reached to grasp her hand and pulled Victoria up from her seat. “We’re going to settle this once and for all,” he announced.
“Right now? I haven’t finished my breakfast yet,” Victoria feigned outrage as he led her toward the kitchen counter.
“I’ll make you something else—later.”
Victoria yelped in surprise as he swept her off her feet and onto the countertop. The T-shirt rode up to her waist as her naked ass met with the cold surface. Wedging his knee between her legs, Henry positioned his torso between her open thighs. “Lift your arms,” he demanded.
Raising her hands in the air, she shivered as Henry pulled the T-shirt over her head, the cool cotton tickling as it crossed her puckered nipples.
“Don’t move,” he said, suddenly, bolting from the kitchen.
“Hey, come back!” Victoria called.
“Stay there,” Henry demanded from somewhere down the hall. “I’ll be right back.”
Moments later, he stalked toward her, one hand behind his back and a mischievous gleam in his eye. “Close your eyes.”
Reluctantly, Victoria closed her eyes, having zero idea what Henry was up to.
“No peeking,” he said as he took her hand in his and turned it palm up toward the ceiling. “Don’t look.”
“I’m not!”
Henry placed a small black velvet box in her open palm. “All right, you can open your eyes now.”
Her heart hammered. No! It couldn’t be. “Henry, what’s this?” Victoria questioned softly.
“It’s Christmas,” he answered. “I do believe people exchange presents today.”
“You’ve already given me a present,” Victoria said, her pulse racing. “I love my new doll.”
“It’s Christmas. Let me spoil you,” Henry said, slowly opening the box for her.
“It’s gorgeous,” Victoria said, her heart plummeting. Of course, it’s not an engagement ring. How silly of me. “But it’s too much.”
Shrugging off her protests, he took the box from her hand and removed a large white gold heart pendant inlaid with diamonds and emeralds. “This is how you should always be. Naked and dripping in jewels,” Henry said, securing the clasp around the back of her neck. “The diamonds are your birthstone, and the emeralds are mine.”
“Your birthday is in May?” Victoria asked.
“Yes,” he answered, moving his mouth over the delicate flesh beneath her ear.
Victoria rolled her neck to the side, goosebumps rising over her flesh as he sucked her earlobe into his mouth, swirling his tongue along the outer edge. “Gemini...or...Taurus,” she questioned breathlessly.
“Taurus.” A hand heated her inner thigh, stopping inches before her opening. “I was born on the fourth of May. Only a few days after you.”
“You mean years,” Victoria jumped as his thumb brushed her clit.
His mouth lowered to her breast, sucking and lapping at its tight bud. Shockwaves coursed through her, her pussy swelling with need. Low mewling sounds came from her lips as she surrendered to the pleasure.
“You’re murmuring, Goldilocks. I want to hear you scream.” He pushed two thick fingers into her tight channel while a third pushed beneath her ass to rim the taboo opening.
Victoria bucked beneath his hand, writhing uncontrollably as her inner muscles clenched around his fingers. “Henry,” she screamed, her hips bucking as he curled a finger against her sensitive nub.
“That’s right, fucking scream my name.” His fingers probed in and out of her wet folds, increasing their speed.
“Scream. My. Name,” Henry demanded, fucking her faster and faster with his fingers.
“Henry,” Victoria gasped as her body spasmed, an explosion of color clouding her vision. Rotating her hips, she rode Henry’s large hand, as two fingers moved in and out of her channel. “Henry. Henry. Henry!” She yelled out in a frenzy as her body trembled, her climax erupting violently.
She slouched her back bonelessly against the kitchen cabinet, watching while hypnotized as Henry lifted his fingers to his lips. As her chest heaved and desire coursed through her, she saw him place his fingers into his mouth and suck greedily.
“Even tastier than bacon and eggs,” Henry said and then made short work of his boxers. He tugged them to the floor, his cock jutting proudly toward her.
Victoria ran the tip of her tongue over the top of her lip, eager to devour the ruddy, thick, hard cock. About to hop down from the countertop, Henry stopped her by bracing his arms next to each side of her. “Not so fast. I’m wondering if I can make you scream even louder,” he said, his lips slamming down over hers. Henry groaned deeply as Victoria’s mouth feasted on his.
Heat washed over her as he massaged the top of her thighs, kneading her flesh as they moved lower to gently shove her legs open wider. Sliding his hands beneath her knees, he moved her to the edge of the counter and placed each leg over his shoulder, his fingers clamped securely on each ankle to hold them firmly in place. “Hang on to the edge of the counter,” he instructed.
Heart pounding, Victoria dug her fingers into the edge of the counter, gasping as Henry slid is cock in to the hilt. Erotic mewling sounds spewed from her throat as he began to move, the position filling her completely as her body tingled like never before.
Her release was fast. “Henry!” Victoria screamed, shattering into a million pieces.
“Victoria!” he echoed her scream as his body stiffened and then shuddered with his own turbulent release.
Chapter 28
Henry
Later that afternoon, Henry drove Victoria back to the house so that she could prepare for their evening out with Jennifer and Andre. He sat on the couch, reading a chapter in the biography about Renoir that Victoria had given him for Christmas. He glanced up when he heard her call to him from the top of the stairs.
“Ho...ho...ho,” Victoria teased as she descended the staircase dressed in an emerald green sweater, embroidered with a chubby Santa and Mrs. Claus posing in front of a Christmas tree, which featured individually sewn-on gold garland, small multicolored lights, and red bows.
Henry cocked an eyebrow. “Wow! Look at you.”
“Can’t take your eyes off me, can you?” One hand on her hip, Victoria rolled her shoulders back and strutted into the living room. “I’m bringing sexy back,” she laughed.
As she strode past him, Henry reached out, capturing her firmly by the hips and positioned her legs to straddle around his lap. “You’d look sexy in a burlap sack,” he said, a hand rubbing circles on her thigh.
Victoria twitched and began to giggle.
Blue eyes peered quizzically up into her face. “Seriously, not good for my ego,” Henry said, his fingers ambling along the base of her spine, tickling her tailbone.
“Sorry,” Victoria lowered her head, recapturing his mouth. Then she twitched again, bursting out into laughter. “I’m ticklish,” she admitted, trying desperately to stifle her giggles.
“Is that so?” Henry questioned slyly.
“Mm...hmm.” Victoria worried her bottom lip, lifting her hips up to move off his lap.
Henry’s fingers clamped around her waist, preventing her hasty retreat.
With each of her legs pinned around each side of his waist, Victoria arched her back, her palm flat against his chest, noting his roguish grin. “What are you thinking?” she q
uestioned timidly.
“Nothing really.” Henry shrugged. “Why do you ask?”
Lips set into a thin line, Victoria narrowed her eyes to study his face. “Your face...no, your expression...it looks devious,” she answered softly.
“Why?” Henry smirked. “Because I might do something like this?” His fingers poked into her waist, teasing and swirling around her skin.
Squealing, Victoria hunched over, her hands covering her mid-section as raucous sounds emitted from her lips.
“Are we interrupting something?” Jennifer poked her head around the small opening of the front door. “I knocked, but the two of you were making such a ruckus, you must not have heard me.”
Laughing wildly, Victoria and Henry frolicked on the couch. Victoria wheezed, “Save me, please.”
Jennifer egged Henry on. “Get her foot. She’ll never get away.”
“Thanks,” Henry huffed, struggling to capture Victoria’s foot.
“Traitor!” Victoria squawked, gasping for air.
Jennifer sauntered into the center of the room. “Remember when you told Andre about my neighbor, Vicki? How I thought Mr. Nagle was burying bodies?” Jennifer peered up at her boyfriend and winked.
“Bodies?” Henry croaked quizzically.
“Not real bodies.” Jennifer waved her hand in dismissal. Smug, she continued on, “Payback, my dear friend, is a bitch.”
“Not nice,” Victoria panted and swatted playfully at Henry’s shoulder as he relinquished his attack.
“This one—” Jennifer pointed at the handsome black man beside her—“has teased me about that embarrassing event relentlessly.”
“Don’t let her fool you,” Andre interrupted. He reached for his coat, shrugging it off his shoulders. Then he held his arms out to the sides to show off his ugly sweater. “She had her revenge on me, too.”
“Oh my gosh.” Victoria slapped her hand over her mouth. “I didn’t believe there was a sweater more horrendous than the one I have this year. However, I think you’re going to be the winner of this year’s massage certificate.”
With a sheepish grin, Andre stood with his shoulders back and hands planted on his hips. “Unbelievable, isn’t it?” His eyes averted down to stare at his navy-blue sweater. Rudolph was proudly woven onto the front of it.
“It’s manly.” Jennifer ran her hand down Andre’s broad chest. “Be thankful I didn’t get you a girly pink one.”
“True,” Henry said. “At least it’s a dark color.”
“You might change your mind when you see this.” Andre moved his hand underneath the sweater and pushed against the back of it. Immediately, Rudolph’s red nose started to blink.”
They all burst into laughter as the bulbous, red nose flashed brightly from the sweater.
“You’ve got it bad, dude,” Henry said, shaking his head.
“That’s a fact.” Andre put his coat back on. “Be careful of these two. They’ll get you, too.”
“That reminds me—” Victoria grinned and excused herself. She ran up the stairs and quickly returned with a bag. “For you,” she said, proudly handing Henry the bag.
“Is it what I think it is?” Henry questioned.
“I think you should open it and see the treasure that awaits inside,” Jennifer said saucily. “I happened to be with Vicki when she purchased it for you. We both agree that the color will work perfectly with your complexion.”
Henry looked amused as he pulled a red sweater inlaid with white flakes from the shopping bag. Smack in the center of it stood a gingerbread house embellished with green and white faux candies and several merry boy and girl gingerbread children dancing around it in a circle. “Nice,” he said, removing the stylish men’s rib-knit cotton cardigan he wore in exchange for the outlandish holiday pullover.
Victoria took in a breath as she took in the sculpted muscles beneath Henry’s T-shirt. A smile crept over her lips as he modeled the hideous sweater. “Yahoo! Now, you’re officially part of our unique clan. And maybe even the winner of this year’s ugly Christmas sweater competition,” Victoria exclaimed, throwing her arms around Henry’s waist.
Andre grunted, “Great, dude. You’ve just overtaken the competition.”
“Oh, honey. Don’t fret. I’ll give you a massage you’ll never forget,” Jennifer said, sashaying toward Andre.
Looping an arm around Jennifer’s shoulders, Andre put his mouth close to her ear. “You always know how to please me, baby.”
Overhearing the overtly sexual comment, Victoria blushed. “Perhaps we should go. Our reservations are for 6:00 at Ruby’s Seaside Grille.”
Kelly
Kelly crouched behind the hedges. Teeth chattering and seething with hatred, she spied through the tiny crevice of the blinds, sickened by the merriment of the group inside. Her fingernails dug into her palms, weaving squiggly, red gashes into the tender skin. Oblivious to the self-inflicted pain, droplets of blood trickled onto the ground as she leered at them. She was going to enjoy killing that bitch.
Suddenly, the front door opened. The obnoxious group exited Victoria’s colonial home to pile into an oversized truck. The driver looked familiar, but she couldn’t recall where she’d seen him before.
Counting to ten, Kelly made sure the truck was out of range and then sprang into action. Her leather jacket snagged on a leaf-bare limb as she emerged from the cluster of shrubs. Stealth-like, Kelly snuck onto the front steps and reached up to trail her fingers above the door frame. She felt for a spare key—unsuccessfully. Undeterred, she picked up the doormat and then threw it back down. Nothing.
Her eyes darted around, frantically searching for a secret place where Victoria may have hidden a spare key. Eyeballing the large pot that housed a five-inch evergreen tree adorned with white lights, Kelly threw her hand into its base and rummaged through the soil. The bitch is smarter than I gave her credit for, she thought, miffed. She wracked her brain, unable to figure out where the spare key was located. Her options limited, she threw her back flush along the side of the weathered wood and slunk around it to test each window. No matter how much she rattled the window frames, they wouldn’t budge. She snarled, her irritation growing stronger. The damn house was locked up like a fortress. She hated Victoria Hathaway. She’d caused a significant wrench in Kelly’s plans, but it didn’t matter, she’d find a way to get rid of her.
Chapter 29
Victoria
The early morning sun peeked through the sheer curtains, its bright rays rippling over the rumpled sheets. Henry’s arm slung heavily across her shoulder, his palm resting on her naked breast. Insatiable man, Victoria thought, her lips quirking into a smile. The bristles of his unshaven face tickled her cheek as he nestled closer beside her. They’d spent the previous night alternating between bouts of lovemaking and short, lazy naps. Victoria closed her eyes, sighing as contentment seeped into her. That was when she knew—she was indeed madly, deeply in love with Henrique Santana.
Her eyelids twitched, fluttering open. Bright light flooded the bedroom. She must have fallen back to sleep. Victoria rolled to her side, disappointed to find Henry gone. The door slightly ajar, she heard the joyful playfulness in Henry’s voice as he talked to Frederick. Stifling a laugh, Victoria rose from the bed and padded barefoot toward the bathroom. As she turned on the shower, Victoria realized that she couldn’t remember a time when she’d ever been so happy.
“Morning, sleepyhead,” Henry teased, peeking his head around the shower curtain. “About time you got up.”
Victoria giggled. “I wouldn’t have slept so long if your bed weren’t so comfortable.”
“I just realized I’m out of coffee creamer. I’m going to run down to the store and get some. Do you want anything?”
“You.”
A wicked grin crossed Henry’s lips. “You’re such a naughty girl, Ms. Hathaway.”
The bar of soap between her palms, she idly slathered the suds over her perky nipples. “Me?” Victoria said coyly.
&n
bsp; Henry’s eyes blazed with desire. “Do you need me to wash your back?”
Victoria smoothed the soap down her torso, a trail of bubbles covering her abdomen as she neared her feminine mound. Tilting her head back, she closed her eyes. Hot water careened over her shoulders, rolling in rivulets down her spine.
“Dear Lord, woman,” Henry growled.
A flirtatious smile pulled at her lips. She giggled and then jerked the shower curtain from Henry’s fingers, whipping it closed. “Show’s over,” she called from behind the curtain.
“You’re evil,” he chuckled. “I’d best get going before I change my mind and join you in the shower. Be back soon,” he called over his shoulder as he stepped into the hallway.
MOMENTS LATER, VICTORIA stepped from the shower, reveling in the softness of the oversized cotton towel she’d wrapped around herself. She slicked her hair into a simple ponytail and donned her clothing quickly. This morning, it was her turn to pamper Henry, starting with her famous homemade French toast for breakfast.
Humming a happy tune, she practically skipped down the hall as she made her way to the kitchen. Strange, Victoria thought, her gaze falling to the framed picture of her and Henry lying face down on the coffee table in the living room. The photo of them dancing had been taken the night of the Newport Ladies’ Refurbishment Society Gala. Henry had purchased a copy of the photo after seeing it featured in the society section of the newspaper. Freddy probably knocked it over with this tail.
The hairs on the nape of her neck rose, a creepy foreboding washing over her as she stepped further into the living room. Convincing herself that she’d read way too many mysteries, Victoria pushed aside her anxiety and adjusted the frame into an upright position.
“Frederick?” Victoria called out, suddenly realizing the golden retriever wasn’t around. Henry must have taken the dog along for the ride, she decided when Fredrick didn’t come to her. She turned around, about to walk to the kitchen, and froze, a chill running down her spine as her eyes locked on an intruder.
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