Working on a Full House (31 page)

"Open, doll." Roy kissed her again. "Open up for me, sweetheart." In case she needed further encouragement, he rubbed the thumb of his other hand over the rigid peak of her nipple.

She parted her thighs like a dream.

Roy's finger had open season then, circling and sliding and tapping. He could hear Valerie whimper as he hit her sensitive bud again and again. He could sense the pleasure inside her rising, could sense her grasping desperately to retain control.

He wasn't going to let her keep it. Even though the scent of her rose to him, pulling strands from his own control, he was determined. First, she had to go through the roof. He had to take care of her, utterly and completely. While his thumb rubbed her most sensitive spot, Roy slid one finger, then the other into her deepest center. Valerie drew in a long, long breath, then arched her back.

Roy felt his teeth draw back in a feral grin. Gently, he rubbed her nubbin, while pushing his fingers rhythmically, evocatively, into her channel. His other hand plucked at her breast.

A moan of silvery need split the air. Valerie stayed arched. Her hips bucked once, and then suddenly everything changed. She pulled out from under him.

"Now, you," she said, and pushed at his shoulder.

"What?" Roy was utterly confounded.

"I want to do you." Valerie's lips were plump, her breasts flushed, and her eyes determined.

Roy felt his arousal spike, although this was not the way he'd planned it. It was her control that was to end in shreds. Her needs were the ones to be filled. But it was Roy's control that threatened to tear as her soft breast teased the skin over his bicep.

"Down," she ordered. "On your back." She pushed harder, her breast closing its soft flesh around his arm.

That lost Roy the battle. If this was what she wanted... He went down on his back.

She slipped to kneel beyond his hips. "Now," she said. "You have to promise."

"What?" Roy nearly barked the word.

An impish smile curved her lips. "You have to promise not to interfere."

"Why on earth would I promise that?"

"Because..." Valerie's smile widened as she cupped his balls in her palms.

Roy hissed in a breath. "I promise."

"Good," Valerie murmured, and walked her fingers up his rigid staff.

Roy clenched his hands in the sheets. He nearly came off the bed altogether when she put her sweet lips to the head of his member.

No!
He
wasn't the one supposed to lose control here. His needs weren't those to be satisfied.

But Valerie had no idea of his high motives. She slid his hot staff right into her warm, wet mouth.

Tight currents of pleasure flashed through him and he heard an earthy sound come out of his mouth. Oh, boy. If she did that again, it would be the end.

Meanwhile her lips parted, her head lowered. Roy had to break his promise. He propelled upward, grasping her shoulders and taking her under him. To his relief, she didn't protest. Indeed, Roy saw a triumphant smile curve her lips right before he pressed his mouth to hers.

His knee parted her thighs. His hands grasped her buttocks, and he plunged inside of her.

She was wet and hot and ready — thank God. Yes, he'd taken her like a Viking ravisher but she was as welcoming as a houri. The incredible pleasure of it made Roy close his eyes. He'd been wanting this for so long. It was impossible to savor the moment, however. His body tensed with new needs, born of the satisfaction of this one.

And Valerie was waiting beneath him.

Roy withdrew, flexed his back, and thrust again. Valerie breathed in sharply and lifted her chin. Roy repeated the motion, feeling her closing around him like a velvet glove of fire. He withdrew, flexed, and plunged, again and again.

"Oh, yes," she breathed. Her eyes were bright glints beneath her lashes, greedy, appreciative. "Oh, yes, please."

Her lithe legs hiked up his hips. Roy gritted his teeth and strove to keep his rhythm, slow and steady, constant and long. He wanted to bring her up on a lengthy wave of pleasure, building and building, until there was nowhere left to build any more, until he could sweep away everything else, everything but him and the pleasure he brought her.

But her legs clasped him with sweet need, her fingers spread greedily over his biceps, and her breasts moved in a provocative dance from his movements. It was taking everything Roy had to stay the course. Worst of all were her eyes, the tiny sliver of them he could see, eyes that promised, eyes that beckoned, eyes that seemed to offer everything he'd ever secretly wanted.

Eyes that seemed to draw his deepest needs out and into the open.

Roy bucked and plunged. He couldn't keep the slow rhythm. The need slithered out, drawn by Valerie's eyes. The need wrapped around him and took over his movements, guiding him along its slippery path, rocking his body with its great and terrible urgency. He thrust into her furiously, growing more desperate as the possibility of fulfillment drew closer.

"Don't... Please...stay..." The words came out of his lips, hoarse and croaking, making no sense, even to him. Meanwhile he could see her face tighten, her chin lift and her eyes finally close.

That did it. Roy rocked into Valerie with everything he had, every need, every fear, every desire. Her chin lifted higher, her lips pulled back from her teeth. Her sweet body clenched convulsively about his.

He knew precisely when she reached her zenith. He could feel the small muscles pulsing, celebrating.

That was when he lost the last tatters of his own control. He went plunging over the cliff directly behind her, indeed, as if she had pulled him along. Unbelievable pleasure shot through him as his seed spewed forth. For an instant, one shattering split-second, he felt that everything he was had bound with her. He felt as though his life — not merely his happiness but his very being — was sitting right in her hands.

It was an absolutely terrifying moment.

The only thing that kept Roy together was its simultaneous ecstasy. If a human being could experience heaven, this was it.

Heaven, and hell, both in the same glorious instant.

A sound Roy couldn't prevent gritted from his chest and he quickly lowered to gather her close. The last thing he wanted was for Valerie to be able to see whatever was showing in his eyes.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

Cherise had learned to expect the unexpected from Kenny, but a buzz from the downstairs intercom at four in the morning was well outside the merely unexpected. It was downright barbaric.

"Kenny?" she asked, standing in her hallway by the intercom phone in her Neiman Marcus silk robe and pajamas. She set a palm to her forehead. Her brain felt as if she'd left half of it back on her pillow. "You're
here
?"

"I have a very good explanation for this," Kenny claimed, his voice nasal and scratchy over the condo intercom.

"You'd better." And then, because half her brain was still on her pillow, Cherise pressed the buzzer to let him in. Meanwhile, all of her heart began to pound. Kenny was on his way up.

She'd never expected to see him again, not after the way he'd fled her condo last Friday night. First, he'd stormed through all her defenses, viewing her most intimate self. Then he'd given her a look that said he was just as blown-away by the experience as she was.

The next thing she'd known, he was gone. Out her door, zooming off in his speedy little Ferrari. Not even stopping to remember they'd left her car at the Valley Pediatric parking lot. She'd had to call a cab the next morning in order to fetch her Corvette.

At first she'd been angry. How dare he cut her open and then abandon her that way? Then she'd been relieved. If she never had to face the one person who'd seen her all the way through, it would be a very good thing. In fact, she hoped Kenny drove out of her life and all the way to China.

Meanwhile, she'd just let him in the downstairs gate. She had to be as nuts as he was.

Cherise stalked to her front door and opened it. Kenny, unshaven, hair rumpled, and dressed in wrinkled Dockers, was striding down the hall.

Ignoring the way her heart was beating like a drum roll, Cherise raised one eyebrow. "It's four in the morning."

Kenny came to a stop outside her door. He didn't have the decency to look apologetic, although she had to admit his demeanor was gratifyingly supplicatory. "I had to sell the Ferrari. The only way I could get here was by hitching a ride with a long-haul trucker I met at a game. That meant getting here when he did."

Cherise left her eyebrow high. "Why did you feel you had to come at all?"

"I tried not to." Kenny laughed dryly, then looked up at Cherise. It was
the look
. The look he'd given her after he'd finished arranging her paintings, the look that cut through all obstructions, the look of such astonishing depth and clarity. Like he really
knew
her.

Cherise started trembling.

"Can I come in?" he asked.

She ought to shut the door right in his face. If she had an ounce of common sense, and Cherise prided herself on owning pounds of the stuff, she'd throw the deadbolt and forget she'd ever met a man named Kenny Doubletree. He was the most irresponsible, unreliable, and dangerous man she had ever encountered.

But — but — she was incapable of cutting the connection that hummed and buzzed in the air around them. Whatever yearned in her heart couldn't hold a candle to all the common sense in the world.

Cherise stepped back from her front door.

Kenny did not hesitate to take her up on the invitation. He walked over the threshold, closed the door behind him, and then wrapped her in his arms.

Cherise's arms went around him, too, as if she'd been waiting her whole life for him to walk through her door and hold her. He felt big and strong and
good
. "Oh, Kenny," Cherise whispered.

"Cherise."

It was the moment they should have had a week ago. After they'd each opened wide, they should have rushed to cover each other up, to make mutually private what had previously been a lonely secret. They should have
helped
each other.

She could hear him draw in a deep breath at the same time she breathed in, and then they kissed. It was far more than a fusion of mouths or a dance of tongues. It was a storm, brewing and swirling and then swooping right down on them.

She found herself groping him, struggling to get closer. He appeared to be in much the same state. Zippers were ripped open, sashes tossed aside.

If Cherise had been in need of a lesson in humility, she was certainly getting it. All the times she'd scolded Valerie for doing just this kind of thing: impulsive, thoughtless, needy... She shrugged out of the silk pajama top, the buttons of which had already been torn off by Kenny.

"Somewhere — " he gritted out. He was down to his boxers. Plaid boxers, Cherise would recall, with amusement, much later. But just then she was consumed with the need to be with him, in every way.

"The sofa," she moaned.

He didn't need to be told twice. In about two seconds, Cherise found herself flat on her back on her white sofa, Kenny's long and tautly-muscled body covering her.

He felt like magic. The rub of his skin against hers, the play of his muscles beneath her hands, the silk of his hair as it fell down to brush her forehead. Everything about him made her sparkle with joy.

"I love you," Kenny told her, in a tone that pleaded. "I love you so much, Cherise."

"Kenny!" Cherise didn't know if she cried out his name in response to his words, or to the fact he'd just thrust himself inside her, exploding her sparkles, turning them into hot and dazzling fireworks. And somehow, sharpening her need. "Please," Cherise cried. She clutched him close, shoving her hips against his and wrapping her legs around his waist.

"I got you," he said, and began to pump.

He was very strong. Cherise could feel him climbing up her need, starting to conquer it. Powerful, relentless, he climbed much higher than any man had ever gone. He climbed too high. Like a weight that was over-heavy on the end of a fragile branch — about to break and fall.

She released her tight hold on him, wanting to come back down, where it was safe.

But he wouldn't retreat. Nipping her jaw, hands cupping her bottom, he kept pistoning himself into her, holding her tight.

"Kenny — " It was both plea and warning. She didn't want to go so high; she'd fall.

"Trust me," he rumbled.

Trust him? How was she supposed to do that? He wanted to fly. Human beings didn't fly.

"We'll fly," Kenny promised her, a low purr in her ear. "You'll see. Together."

"But...
Oh
!" He was shoving her off the branch. Pushing her.

"Let yourself go." He was begging now. "Let...go."

She knew she had a choice. She could hold on fast, refuse to leave the branch — or she could throw her lot in with Kenny, trust him and fly.

She went flying. Pleasure so great it was excruciating flooded her. She was unable to move, unable to think; all she could do was remain a vessel for the sensations coursing through her.

It was terrifying.

Until she became aware she had an anchor, after all. With a dizzying jolt she found she was still in Kenny's arms. He'd never let go of her, had a hold of her still...was keeping her safe.

"Okay?" he asked, very softly. "See? It was okay."

Okay? Cherise felt a laugh bubble up.
A little better than okay
. Discovering that she could move her arms, she ran her hands over his shoulders. "Mmm." It was all she could manage to say.

Kenny chuckled, the muscles in his abdomen vibrating against her belly. "I'll take that as an okay," he said.

Cherise pressed a kiss against the intriguing place where his arm met his chest. "For a white guy," she said, with her tongue apparently back in working order.

Kenny laughed out loud at that, and Cherise felt him slip out of her.

"Sorry. Ah, what the hell." Still chuckling, Kenny held her close. "It was inevitable I make a mess of such a white sofa."