BornontheBayou (6 page)

She stepped back and lowered her arms. The bra fell to the
floor. Neither of them bothered to watch it fall.

She watched him watching her, staring at her breasts and
smiling in pure delight. “As beautiful as I imagined, and believe me, I’ve been
imagining.” He took her breasts into his hands, almost reverently cupping them
so her nipples peeked between his fore and middle fingers. “They feel good
too.” He bent his head and sucked one into his mouth, caressing and circling
with his tongue until she sighed and pushed closer. He moaned something that
sounded like “Delicious.”

He released her breasts in favor of unfastening and slipping
her jeans down her legs. He still sucked her breast and had her murmuring his
name, then he let it go, showering both breasts with kisses.

How had she gone without this for so long? He slid his hands
up and down her legs, then knelt and helped her out of her panties. She bit her
lip. “Sorry.”

“For what, baby?” The word should have made her feel
belittled or childlike. Instead it made her feel cherished. She only hoped he
meant it that way.

“They’re only plain ones.”

“What are?”

Then she felt even more stupid for bringing up the subject.
“Never mind.”

He glanced aside. “Oh those. They look fine. But you’re even
finer.” He combed through her curls with his fingers. “Au naturel. It’s been a
while since I’ve seen a bush this gorgeous.”

“I trim it!” she protested. She didn’t totally abandon
personal grooming because nobody saw it but her.

“I like it.” He separated her labia and cool air washed
across her clit, already sensitive even before he touched it. He leaned closer,
licking and sucking in an intimate kiss, and her balance started to go.

Sensation shot through her whole body like a pleasant
electric shock. She grabbed his shoulders for balance and he laughed before
straightening and taking her in his arms. “Want to know what you taste like?”
When she gave a tentative nod, he took her lips with his and delivered a long,
luscious kiss. She’d never enjoyed that before, tasting herself on another
person, but the intimacy of his actions overwhelmed any scruples and she
relished it now.

He had no compunction in doing what he wanted, opening her,
kissing her, and when coarse fabric abraded her thighs she was reminded that
she was the naked one here. And she didn’t care. For once, she didn’t fucking
care, didn’t want to hide herself or her body.

He finished the kiss and touched his forehead to hers. “Delicious,
in case you were wondering. Get into bed and I’ll find us some protection.” She
did as he said, glad to get under the covers because the aircon in here must be
running at full stretch. After the heat of the day, she felt the coolness all
the more. It gave her the opportunity to watch him shuck his jeans and
underwear, shoving them impatiently down his legs and kicking them away.

She stared and instead of laughing, moving away or hiding,
he spread his legs and let her look. “I hope you approve.”

The heat that rushed to her cheeks had no origin in the
comforter she’d pulled to her chest. “Yes. Yes, you could say that.” She’d
never met a man more comfortable in his own skin before. He didn’t care how
closely she examined his reddened, erect cock and the plump balls swinging
underneath. His thighs were thick with muscle and he held in his stomach
without effort. She got the feeling that even if he had a paunch he wouldn’t
bother to hide it. The ultimate what you see is what you get.

She so wanted what she saw. “Turn around,” she said. “I want
to see where that dragon goes.”

Flashing her a wicked grin, he did as she asked, giving her
an even better view of the tattoo in motion when he bent to sweep up his jeans
and dig in the pocket for a condom.

The dragon wound around his left biceps, swept across his
back and followed the length of his spine down to his mouth-wateringly curved
buttocks. The tail curled around the right one, its end spear-shaped, pointing
between his legs. He glanced over his shoulder. “Satisfied?”

“Not nearly,” she said, deciding to talk about something
else entirely. “But that tattoo is amazing.”

He laughed. “I know. It took a few sittings. He offered to
color it but I like the starkness of the monochrome.” He flexed his shoulder
and the creature rippled as if alive.

Before tonight ended, she’d lick all the way down that
dragon and let it lead her where it would.

She’d never been so wet for a man before. Taking courage
from his attitude, she opened her legs and didn’t change position when he
turned around. He came to her, pulled back the comforter and stared down at
her, a slow, sweet smile curving his lips. “You’re a man’s wet dream,” he said.

“Glad I’m yours.” She wasn’t sure what precisely to say, but
that seemed appropriate.

“I’m just the lucky one who got here first. Didn’t you see
how many people watched you today?”

“Because I was with you.”

Slowly, he shook his head. “Like fuck, it was.” He glanced
down and used the condom to sheathe himself with a skill that spoke of long
practice, then he raised his eyes back to hers.

As if drawn by something out of his control, he bent to her,
moving slowly, lifting one knee on the bed, then the other, so he straddled
her. He didn’t touch her anywhere but stared at her, scanned her body, watching
her so closely she had nowhere to hide.

Beverley recalled all her flaws, panic rising inside her
with each recollection. She twisted her arms so the insides were hidden. He
noticed the movement and frowned. “What’s wrong?

She gave a shaky laugh. “I’m not perfect.”

“Good.”

“You are.”

“No, I’m fucking not.” He sat up, still not touching her,
and turned his arms so she could see the insides. Scars marred the tanned skin,
tiny marks and lines she hadn’t noticed before. “Tracks,” he explained. “Hard
living. So let’s see yours.”

Feeling foolish, she turned her arms so he could see the
inner forearms. “Nothing so romantic. Ovens.” The scars from years of pulling
hot baking tins out of ovens had left reminders. She’d look at them sometimes
almost wistfully, but not now. Not when he gipped her wrist and drew it up to
his mouth. He kissed one scar, then another, brushing his lips over them with
aching tenderness.

“It shows you’ve lived,” he murmured, smiling, then put her
arm back against the crisp sheet and came back down to her. “Nobody is forcing
me to be here. I want this, as you do.”

This was a night out of time, shared by two people, and then
life would resume.

He kissed her. His cock and balls grazed her skin. She felt
no pressure, but heat seared through her where he touched her. Slowly he
lowered the rest of his body onto her, keeping his weight on his elbows. It
seemed so right, as if they were about to embark on something big.

Apart from the size of his genitals, she couldn’t let
herself think that far. Dreams were one thing, but this was reality.

Reality meant lying on a bed in one of the best hotels in
Baton Rouge with a man half the female population coveted, and the other half
didn’t only because they hadn’t seen him yet. She had him now, and only now
mattered. She curved her arms around his back and smiled up at him.

“I’ve wanted you all fucking day,” he said. “For half of it
I watched those gorgeous nipples, then I saw the full glory of your body when
you had that outfit on, the one from the department store.”

“I thought you didn’t like it.”

“It didn’t suit you. Sleazy.”

“And you don’t like sleazy?”

He laughed. “Sleazy is a turn-on sometimes, but you’re not
the sleazy type. You don’t act it and if you did, it would come out all wrong.
I’ve had all day to look at you, and I have a better idea than I did this
morning.”

“You still want me?”

“What do you think?” He kissed her again, and as he did so,
his rigid cock slid between the folds of her labia, over her clit. He withdrew
and did it again, making her moan into his mouth and arch up to him, pressing
her stomach against his. His muscles tensed in response.

He kissed her deeper, pressing toward her opening, her pussy
responding with heat and wetness. He thrust his tongue into her mouth, once,
twice, more, and she dragged him as close as he could.

His cock slipped into her, then he pushed. Slowly and
steadily he breached her body and it opened to accommodate him, then closed
snugly around him.

Nobody had ever filled her so well before. It felt new, as
if she’d never done it before, and she allowed herself a moment of fantasy,
that this was her first time, that this was her first man. But her first time
had been uncomfortable and something she’d wanted to forget, between two
inexperienced kids, scared and excited. Never a good combination for control.

Ten years later, she had the control and so did he. Infinite
control, it seemed, as he kept up the slow pace, not stopping until he’d
entered her completely. He finished their kiss and smiled down at her. “Now
that felt good. Fucking amazing.”

“Yes. It did. It does.” She wriggled under him. “Now for
fuck’s sake, move.”

He chuckled, the sound a little shaky, and did as she told
him, pulling out, pushing in, watching her face all the time. She sank down,
moved a little and he caught what she was trying to do and changed the angle of
his entry slightly. “Better?”

Shit, yes. Biting her lip, she nodded and he moved again.

So good. It felt so good. She moaned low in her throat, a
purr of appreciation as he moved, keeping the pace slow, making her feel every
nuance, every touch. He bent to nuzzle her breasts and the sensations linked
and heated, spreading over her entire body, all her nerve endings coming to
life. She slid her hands down to his buttocks, felt those firm buns harden
under her touch as he worked his cock in and out of her. He slowly increased
the pace, steadily building, no sudden movements. She pushed back, tensed her
back and buttocks, met his thrusts with movements of her own and clutched him,
pulling him closer so their bodies met from breast to toes.

They stopped speaking, communication changing to their
movements, deeper than speech because their bodies couldn’t lie or cover up the
way they were opening to each other.

Did he always fuck with such honesty? She had no idea, but
she couldn’t remember being this exposed with anyone else before. He watched
her the whole time, compelling her to meet his gaze. He had startlingly blue
eyes, with streaks of lighter blue swirled around the blackness of his pupil,
adding a commanding quality to his stare. She couldn’t look away. Didn’t want
to, because she felt him sharing himself with her.

He was slamming his body against hers now, the sound of
flesh meeting flesh loud in the quiet of the bedroom, hypnotic in its inevitability.
She lifted her knees to urge him deeper, gripping his sides so she could have
all of him, touch as much of him as she could.

Arching back, she cried out as the full force of an orgasm
worked for and won convulsed and conquered her. No thought, no place remained
except this room, Jace Beauchene and her.

She didn’t realize she could scream so loudly, but she still
heard his responding cry of her name and felt the way his body suddenly jerked.
He would have jackknifed had she not held him so securely. Heat pulsed deep in
her pussy and she melted for him, aftershocks pushing her senses up yet again.

Falling to one side of her, he laughed breathlessly. “Shit,
that was intense. Cool fuck, hmm?”

Chapter Five

Beverley went cold at the last words. That had meant so much
more to her than a romp in the hay and until a few seconds ago, she’d thought
it meant more to him. She was so fucking naïve. So if that was how he wanted to
treat it, she’d have to learn to do it too, or look like a complete fucking
idiot. Withdraw, pretend this was just another encounter, that they were having
fun. Like he’d done before many times.
Coward.

Her lack of personal experience in these situations had made
her think he meant this to be special, but those words, “Cool fuck, hmm?” as if
they’d engaged in nothing more intimate than a game of cards had brought her
down to earth with a bump so hard it had taken her breath away.

She should know better. She knew how rock stars lived, had
seen it in the hotels her father had worked in. A different woman every night,
sometimes two or three. Jace probably thought of sex as an amusing pastime,
something to share with someone pleasant, a passing pleasure.

Her lip curled. She turned the sneer into a smile as she
rolled on to her side, but she didn’t snuggle closer. “It was, wasn’t it? I’ve
never felt it quite that intense before. Have you?” She repeated his word back
to him, making him think about it.

Thus forcing him to lie or to admit it to her. Or the truth
might be that this happened to him every time. She had only her instinct to
guide her, and everything told her that he’d felt the closeness every bit as
much as she had.

He sighed. “No. I don’t think so.”

Back to honesty, then. “Thank you. I thought you were going
to say that you did it twice a week and thanks for the ride.”

He stared at her in silence for a few seconds. Seconds that
stretched time. “I was. But I need not to spoil what we just did. Maybe the
stars were in alignment, or the bed is a great one or something. Or maybe it’s
us.” He paused again. “Amazing. Truly amazing. I never felt that with a woman
the first time before.”

“What?”

“That closeness. Pretty cool, huh?” The conscious repetition
of the word softened the impact and she cursed her own insecurity. Whatever
this was, that had been one amazing fuck.

Now she laughed too. “Yeah. Pretty cool.” Her deliberately
appalling American accent made him glance at her, sharing the joke. He leaned
over and kissed her. “Thanks. Guess I’m not used to this. Thanks for
understanding.” He leaned back and the tension eased between them. Honesty did
that.

He laughed, this time genuine amusement it seemed. He shared
his thought with her. “You know I’ll probably write about this, don’t you?”

She propped herself up on one elbow. “You write the songs?”

“I come up with the odd lyric.”

When she wanted to protest, he laid a finger across her lips
and she kissed it, then tried to nibble but he drew it back, smiling. “It’s
good to put thoughts into music sometimes. The other members of the band,
especially Zazz and Riku come up with shit all the time, always scribbling or
noodling on the piano, but I get one idea every few months. Except when they
give me a lyric or a simple melody, I know how to make it better. That’s what I
do best. I’m making an exception with you.”

She bent and kissed him. He snaked a hand around the back of
her neck and they lost themselves in each other for a time. She felt as though
she was at the beginning of a new journey and, after all, a night could be a
long time. A night’s journey.

He sat up, taking her with him, and swung her body over him
so she was lying in his lap lengthwise. Finishing the kiss, he gazed down at
her, finding a strand of hair to wrap around his finger. He let it go, the curl
he’d made springing back, watching it with a fascination that made her wonder
if that was the part of her he wanted to write about.

“I suggest a shower and some food. Then we can go again, but
I’m starving. I haven’t eaten since breakfast at the airport and my stomach
thinks I’m taking out divorce papers. I let a perfectly good beignet go to
waste because you needed me.”

“I did not need you.” She laughed, letting the sound bathe
her in delight. “I knew exactly what I wanted. Penny needed you.”

“And you needed Penny. I loved your face when you saw what
she was showing you with the colors.”

“I enjoy learning new things.” She couldn’t remember telling
anyone that before. Nobody had asked.

“I bet they loved you at school.” She stayed silent and
lowered her gaze. He tucked a finger under her chin and urged her to look up at
him. “What’s wrong? What did I say?”

“I just got by at school,” she admitted. “I was too busy
helping out at night. My parents were building their reputation then. They’d
bought their first restaurant and it was hard at first. Besides, I didn’t like
school half so much.”

He looked concerned, though she didn’t know why. “Did they
work you hard, your parents?”

She forced a smile. “Yes, but I didn’t mind. That is, I
minded at the time, but I got the bug. The cooking bug. I loved creating and
watching my father create.”

“Sure.” He pulled her closer and his nipple rings imprinted
on her arm. She loved his warmth, could soak it up. “So tell me about cooking.
Why aren’t you in a kitchen now? If you love it so much, what’s stopping you?”

People asked her that all the time, and until recently tears
sprang to her eyes every time she told them. It was no different now. But he
wouldn’t let her look away, although his expression softened.

She told him. “It’s flour. I developed an allergy to flour.”
She swallowed. “Not cooked flour, but raw flour. It’s the dust, they think. It
started with asthma-like attacks, and then I got a rash on my hands and arms. I
could put up with that, but it got worse until one day I nearly died. I went
into anaphylactic shock.”

“Oh no, poor baby.” He stroked his hand up her back and she
felt better. He sounded truly sorry.

“After that, I tried wearing gloves and a mask. I wanted to
be like my father, and I loved spending time in the kitchen with him. So it was
worth trying.”

“Not if it sends you into shock.”

She shook her head. He’d removed his finger from under her
chin, leaving her still gazing into his eyes. She swallowed. “I tried to carry
on, but I couldn’t do it with the mask and gloves. I need to feel the food,
gauge textures, test ripeness, all kinds of things.” Emotion moistened her
eyes. “It was like being bereaved. I didn’t know anything else, didn’t know how
to live outside a kitchen.”

“Hence the lack of dress sense.” He got to his feet, lifting
her as if she weighed nothing, which she knew was far from the case, and took
them into the bathroom. He switched on the shower and tested it with his hand
before gently putting her down under the deliciously warm stream. “I’ll join
you in a minute,” he said. “Do you want anything in particular from room
service?”

She shook her head and reached for the little bottle of
shampoo. She’d have to remember to use only half, because he had almost as much
hair as she did.

Beverley’s bravery astonished Jace. To give up something she’d
imagined would take up all her life and move on to something new, in a new
country even, filled him with awe. He’d never done anything without somebody at
his back.

He felt strangely protective of her. He had affairs all the
time, and one-night stands weren’t uncommon although he rarely had them with
new people anymore. Rather, he’d developed the sailor’s habit of having a girl
in every port, the electronic equivalent of a little black book, with numbers
he could call if he wanted company. They all knew the score. Would Beverley?

He doubted it. She didn’t seem the kind of woman who would
accept a casual affair, or someone he could call when he was in town. He
usually found a willing woman, fucked her brains out and moved on, leaving them
both happy. Jace knew women liked him. He’d have to be plumb stupid not to
realize they followed him around. They always had, long before he’d been legal,
and he’d had quite a few hurried, furtive fucks with women before his
seventeenth birthday.

Men too, for that matter, but as he got older Jace found he
preferred women. Men provided spice and difference to his sex life, but he
didn’t get the same kick so he wouldn’t call himself bisexual. Bi-curious,
maybe.

He didn’t want Beverley getting too hooked on him but he
knew she’d cope. No waif, she, for all her inexperience. He grinned as he
picked up the menu and found the phone.

He glanced at the mirror opposite the bed. This room was
festooned with mirrors. He saw Jace, the man he’d seen growing up, but other
people saw Jace Beauchene, rock star, an image rather than a person. He
sometimes found it hard seeing that person, the rock star, but other people did
that first. He loved that Beverley didn’t.

His reluctance to leave her shocked him, but sometime this
afternoon he’d realized he wanted more from Beverley than a little afternoon
delight before he moved on. Which was downright strange. Since childhood his
passion had been for his music. He tended to play it down, not let people know
how passionately he felt about what he did, but now the world knew and he had
an excuse to spend the day doing what he loved.

He hadn’t thought of his guitar once today, not until now.
Usually he’d bring it into a hotel himself, spend some time every day
practicing and noodling, letting his brain work with the music, revealing
textures and colors. He’d left it in the car.

Beverley had talked about feeling textures and suddenly he
saw what she meant. If he had to play wearing thin latex gloves, he could, but
he wouldn’t be in direct contact with the music anymore. Or if his hearing
became impaired and he had to lose touch with some of the ranges he took for
granted. Hunter, the band’s drummer, had started in percussion to please his
deaf mother. Jace would die, or he’d want to, if he couldn’t hear anymore.

If Beverley was as devoted to food as he was to his music,
her bravery in making a clean break and moving on astounded him­—that she could
accept that part of her life was over and let it go. Except he suspected she
hadn’t let it go yet. She didn’t talk about it except in dispassionate terms.
So he guessed that it still hurt her to think about it.

He wanted more time with her, and he wanted to make
absolutely sure she’d be okay. He didn’t have to be in Atlanta for a few days
yet. If Chick had booked them on to a TV or radio show, they could work around
him.

After all, he owed her. And she was fucking hot.

He wondered if she’d ever had shower sex. He had two more
condoms before he needed to go out for supplies.

Grabbing one, he headed for the sound of running water.

She jumped when he stepped in and slid his hand around her
waist. “Naughty thoughts?” he queried. He cupped her breasts, adoring the way
the plump mounds settled in his hands. When he peaked her nipples with his
fingers, satisfaction warmed him at her sigh and he felt the soft peaks harden.
She had such sensitive nipples. Gorgeous breasts.

His cock rose and he moved closer to feel the welcoming heat
of her back. She moved forward so he could share the shower. The enclosure was
plenty big enough for two, and the clear glass gave an almost unimpeded view of
the full-length mirror in the bedroom beyond. He’d been in too much of a hurry
to close the door.

He knew already that she didn’t like to look at herself.
She’d turned away from the mirrors at Penny’s until she’d gotten used to seeing
herself and then become entranced by the looks Penny created for her.

Time she got used to seeing herself, because she was well
worth the view.

He urged her to turn around, keeping himself flat against
her back so she couldn’t turn back when she noticed the big bathroom mirror,
which she did almost immediately.

She flinched and turned her head to gaze at him instead. He
couldn’t resist taking the kiss, because her parted lips invited it. She tasted
wonderful, even her mouth taking him over. Jace had kissed enough frogs to know
a princess when he got one and he finally admitted to himself that he didn’t
want to let her go just yet.

After he’d thrust his tongue into her mouth, indulging
himself by taking what he’d wanted all day, he finished the kiss, smiled and
turned her back toward the mirror. “Go on. Watch.”

She looked. He could see all of her body, sweetly curved,
the breasts weighed in his hands, the nipples pert and hard. Her waist curved
in, a dip that made him want to shape it, but if he did, he’d have to release
her breasts and he didn’t want to do that yet. His cock pressed against her,
hot and ready. When he moved he knew all the dampness hadn’t come from the
showerhead. He’d put on the protection before he fucked her, but he wanted to
feel her, skin to skin, for as long as he could. She had gorgeous skin, satiny
and warm, tempting him every time he touched her.

“Look at that,” he said.

“Yeah.” She didn’t sound happy but she turned around and
stared into the mirror.

“Relax, Beverley. Let me take care of you.” He kissed her
shoulder, licked her skin as if it were a tasty morsel.

Laughter colored her voice. “You mean you want to fuck me
rigid.”

“Something like that. Any objections?”

Now her voice darkened. “None whatsoever.” She bit her lip.
“But do I have to watch?”

“Yes, you do. If you don’t, I won’t fuck you. You wouldn’t
want me to suffer, would you?”

“Oh, that could be fun.”

He laughed as he stroked her, smoothing his hands gently
down her body. He lingered over her slightly curved belly, enjoying the pillowy
softness. Until she tightened her muscles. “Hey, none of that. You have some
flesh on you, but it’s gorgeous. Toned and sweet.”

“Like belly of pork?”

“Like you. Just like you. Get your mind off food. I ordered
something to eat, but you’re going to have to work for it.”