A Kept Woman (30 page)

Diana stepped out of the cab and tried to look relaxed. She’d wanted to pull herself together during the ride, but it had been impossible. Michael had put one hand down the small of her back and had started stroking the curve of her behind, rhythmically, insistently. He was playing with it like it was his toy. Sometimes she had been a little self-conscious about her bottom, but she felt his desire, his excitement, and it turned her on. Cicero was kneading and squeezing while he kept up an easy banter with the driver, discussing the disastrous season the Mets had just had, and all she could think about was trying not to squirm with pleasure and need.

Her panties were a thin Chiffon thong. Her behind was bare under her skirt. Diana felt the slim scrap of nothing

that covered her start to cling to the moistness of her groin. She bit down hard on her lip and said nothing until the car halted and Michael’s hand tugged her out of the back.

He threw a twenty at the guy and punched in the code for the door. There was a maintenance guy in the lobby. Michael greeted him cheerfully, but Diana had to swallow the groan that bubbled in the back of her throat. Surely her condition must be obvious to this man. He didn’t seem to be staring at her, but how could he not know? How could anybody miss it? Her whole skin was burning. Michael turned to her.

‘It’s a bit of a walk. Ten floors up.’

‘That’s fine,’ Diana managed. Her face flushed, hotly. ‘I’m used to walkups.’

She deliberately started to mount the stairs. Oh man. Why had he said that? One flight, two, she barely noticed the gradient. Michael was still downstairs, chatting. Great time to pass the time of day. Why not? she thought, angrily. She reached the landing, and heard him racitag up the stairs behind her, three, four at a time. He caught up with her. She noticed he hadn’t even broken a sweat.

‘I can’t believe you said that to him.’ Her eyes flashed. ‘Do you always have to show off your conquests to other men?’

‘A conquest.’ His dark eyes bored right through her. ‘Is that what you are? Maybe you flatter yourself, Diana. I bring illustrators here all the time. Males and females. He’s used to it.’

Cicero opened the door and put his hand on her elbow, marching her in.

His place was tiny and immaculate. Diana saw the low-slung, hard-looking bed, made neat as a soldier’s, behind him. Suddenly she felt tiny, dwarfed by him.

‘Maybe this isn’t such a good idea,’ she stammered.

e laughed. He reached out and cupped her breasts with his hands, hefting them, as though testing th, eir weight. A fresh rush of electric lust rocked through her hips. She shuddered, and Michael pulled her to him.

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For the first minute, Michael was careful and gentle. His thick fingers fumbled with the buttons of her dress. He managed to pull it from her without ripping it. He laid it carefully across the back of a chair.

Diana moaned softly. Waiting for him to touch her was agonising. Her knees were trembling as though they might not be able to support her. No man had ever touched her with such confidence and command. She forgot that all sex was bad, that it was something women put up with. Her body leapt to his touch, pressing forward, but Michael was holding her back, almost amtsed.

‘Easy, girl.’ The whisper of his breath was warm against her bare neck. ‘All in good time.’

He reached behind her and unhooked her bra. Her breasts fell out, slipping warm and heavy with blood from the mocha lace, and she heard a quick intake of breath from him at the sight of them.

‘Rose-pink. Dark rose,’ he muttered.

‘What?’

‘The colour of your nipples. I was wondering about it.’ Cicero reached forwards and rubbed the tip of his thumb over her left breast, not touching the swollen tip, just circling round it.

It was more than Diana could stand. Wantonly, she thrust herself against him. She was nude against the cotton of his shirt. He grinned and reached between her

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legs, cupping her with the palm Of his hand. He could feel the slickness of her through the scrap of her panties.,

‘I want to look at you,’ he told her. ‘Turn around. Let me see you.’

Diana turned slowly on her heels as he kicked off his shoes and slid out of his pants. His cock was so hard it hurt. She was stunning; one of the rare women better naked than dressed. Oh, damn, look at that ass. Her stomach was flat enough to balance a champagne glass on, her muscles just slightly defined, and it tapered out to a firm, flaring butt, a perfect peach, rounded and high and tight and so womanly it drove him nuts. Her breasts were soft and full and natural. There was a light dusting of freckles on-the tops of them, like powdered sugar. Cicero felt his resolve to tease her wane. He had to have her. Right now. He tore off his shirt and went over to her, his hands ranging all across her warm skin. She was intensely responsive, but awkward. If he didn’t know she’d been married, he might have thought her a virgin.

Diana squirmed as she felt his hands grip her, the thickness of his cock press into her back. She was desperate for him, but the size of him made her nervous.

‘Will you hurt me?’ she muttered, her fingers closing round him.

He pushed her back on the bed, hard.

‘No.’ His voice was fhick with lust. ‘I’ll go slow. At first.’

His hands reached up and pinned her arms over her head, and his mouth was on her again, kissing her, pinning her under him, and her legs parted, and he entered her gently, half an inch at a time.

‘We have to get back to the office,’ Diana said, reluctantly.

She kept her head down. She had showered and

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dressed again, but she felt self-conscious in Michael’s presence. She had had no idea that sex could be like that.

His cock impaled her. There was no way she could think about something else, like she had done with Ernie. His hands were on her, his fingers rubbing the slick nub of her through the silky downy fur even as he took her, turning her over, licking her breasts, directing her body for his pleasure. She had never felt so richly enjoyed. She had come over and over again, little crashing orgasms just teasing her, preparing her, for the way he made her yield to him right before he came, so she was only aware of the sweet block of pressure in her groin and pussy, the way it built up relentlessly driving her forwards, filling her mind totally with his cock, his chest, his strong arms, until it exploded in a white-hot burst across her skin, leaving her drained and panting.

She was astonished to have felt that way. She could hardly look him in the face. Michael had tried to kiss her as she recovered, but she felt shy and drew back from him, going to wash. What must he think of me? she wondered. What a slut he must think I am. Her body’s reaction was a shock, and she had stumbled to the bathroom, revelling in the hot water, the precious few seconds left to her to try to gather her thoughts.

My God, she thought, I’ll never be able to look the man in the face again.

‘What’s the problem?’ Michael said to her, after he emerged from the shower. Diana had dressed herself, neatly buttoning up her dress as high as it would go, and tying her hair back in a severe French pleat. She glanced down at the coffee she’d fixed from his machine, trying to avoid staring at the thickly muscled chest, the hard, defined biceps. What was he really? Just a jock. I mustn’t let myself be fazed by a jock, Diana thought.

Her newfound career was important to her. At Imperial, she’d learned she was more than a prett.y face.

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It surprised her that she really didn’t want to jeopardise that.

And she was scared by how totally her body had surrendered to him. Already she could feel a slight tightness between her legs. Almost - how ridiculous! - as though she wanted more.

‘Nothing. We’re late for work,’ Diana said. ‘They’ll be expecting us back in the office.’

He turned his back to her and shrugged off the towel, dressing. Diana swallowed hard. The lines from his shoulders to the small of his back were chiselled like some Renaissance statue in marble. His behind was flat and totally hard. He was huge. She looked at the fresh shirt he was pulling on and wondered if he’d had it specially nade.

‘You’re right,’ he said, easily. ‘We’ll get in a cab and get right’back.’

She bit her lip, pouting. You’re right? Was that all he had to say? I don’t want it to get weird, Diana thought, but I do think he might have argued just a bit.

It wasn’t every day a man got to go to bed with a woman like her. Or was it? He was acting as if nothing special had happened.

Diana tossed her head. Well, two could play at that

game.

‘Good idea,’ he agreed.

When the cab pulled up on West Fourth, Michael got out and held the door open for her. Diana nodded slightly; she could barely thank him. Lower Manhattan had slipped past them in complete silence. Michael seemed totally at his ease.

Diana had gazed out at the warehouses, inwardly seething. How the hell could he be so calm? Maybe things like that did happen to Cicero all the time. That was his reputation.

A horrible thought occurred to her. What if she wa

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just another notch on the bedpost? Urgh. A lunchtime quickie, just another conquest?

What was I thinking? she asked herself. I didn’t play

hard to get. I’m worse than a girl who gives it up on the first date. He didn’t even ask me on a date. And Michael is arrogant enough as it is.

It was no use pretending it had been nothing special for

her. Diana turned aside from Michael, her back rigid with rejection. She blushed hotly, remembering herself leaping in his arms, gasping and crying out, scratching at him, drenched with sweat. But she couldn’t help it. The things he had done to her. The urgent, merciless thrusting of his cock, the sweet pressure of his tongue, his wandering hands.

She bit on her inner cheeks. Well, she couldn’t help the

way she’d behaved then, but she could help how she behaved now.

I’m going to be the ultimate professional, Diana promised herself.

She leant forward.

‘Furn off the radio,’ she snapped. ‘That music is driving me mad.’

The cabbie jumped to attention. Just as well, Diana thought. In this mood, nobody better mess with me.

She stepped out past Michael and marched into her

office, closing the door behind her. There were a number of hot graphics designers on her Rolodex to call. She picked up the phone, determined to drive Michael Cicero and his body right out of her head.

‘More champagne, sir?’ the stewardess asked.

She was flirting shamelessly, but Felicity was lying

there with a Gucci traveller’s blindfold wrapped around her eyes, and her hands folded neatly in her lap. She was asleep or pretending to be. The stewardesses could bat their eyelids as much as they liked. Ernie was p.leased

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with her. She had thrown a terrific party for the Ities, schmoozing the old geezers like a seasoned pro, not even forgetting the wives. And she knew exactly when to turn a blind eye.

‘I thought the bar closed an hour ago,’ Ernie said, examining her breasts.

She thrust them forward a bit more. ‘Well yes, Mr Foxton, that’s true as far as our regular first-class passengers go.’ She dropped her voice. ‘For our most special guests, we always make exceptions.’

‘You can get me another glass of ros4,’ Ernie agreed. He didn’t really want it, but it tickled him to get what other people couldn’t. Really, the world was just his oy shop.

The Berta, loni deal would go through, and Blakely’s would have money to spare. Games and toys were big business, and he didn’t see why he should be stuck with just books. The more reach you had, the more respect you got. Airlines were just one example. They made their profits on big business, rich travellers like him who would happily pay outrageous prices for a seat that flipped down all the way. Idly, he wondered whether if he took the air hostess upstairs to the private bathroom she’d fuck him right there, or if she’d just slip him her hotel room number instead? Either way, it was too much bother. He could have Jung-Li any time he liked without having to lift a finger.

The girl was leaning over him, pouring out a thin stream of pink champagne that filled up his crystal glass, spitting and bubbling. Ernie reachedout and picked up the stem in his thin fingers. Realising she was dismissed, the woman melted away.

He sipped, allowing the chill wine to fizzle on his tongue. Once, a long time ago, champagne had been a treat luxurious beyond imagining. Back when he was a teenager, Asti Spumante was about all he could manage.

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Now it was routine, almost boring. Ernie had educated himself on the better houses, even memorising a list of the superlative years. Truth was, it all tasted the same to him. But now he knew to bitch if the stuff was non-vintage, he could say he wouldn’t clean his oven with Lanson. Ernie hated being laughed at with a passion.

The plane was banking and turning over Canada, very close to New York. He’d called Jack Fineman with instructions. Firstly, there was the press conference to announce his latest triumph. But after that, Fineman was going to update him. Apparently, there was news on Cicero, and it included a report on his ex-wife. Ernie didn’t much care what Diana did; she was out of his hair, and she was never coming back into the social scene. Felicity would see to that. Besides, Diana had no serious cash, and in America, if you didn’t have money, you weren’t worth a thing. Diana would never embarrass him any more. He didn’t think Michael would, either.

But he wasn’t going to underestimate the little prick. Once I crush people, Ernie thought, they better stay crushed. Fineman would help him see that they did.

The sun dipped behind the long row of brownstones, flooding rich golden light through the trees outside their windows. Diana tidied up her papers and stacked them neatly on her desk. She had managed to bury herself in her work all day long, calling programmers, supervising the marketing division, writing out copy for the latest batch of games, and running to the water cooler whenever Michael emerged into her area. It hadn’t been as hard as she had feared. The company was blowing up, and every day her phone lines and fax machine buzzed off the hook. There was no time to think abOut what he’d done to her this afternoon, no time to obsess over his flat stomach, his brawny arms, the way his hands pressed and squeezed every inch of her butt. But those thoughts