Carnal Vengeance (34 page)

Damn, but he missed her. He missed her eyes, her smile, her innocence, her passion. He missed her incredible breasts and the way her body took his in and continued to please him long after he was spent. He missed their intellectual debates and her biting sarcasm. He even missed her lies.

What a wretched state she had reduced him to that he thought the sound of her voice fifteen hundred miles away would ease his agitation and let him drift off to sleep.

Thoughts of how good it had felt to sleep next to her instantly increased his state of arousal. He grasped the source of his discomfort and closed his eyes. No, not good enough. He wanted Holly.

Suddenly he thought of a way he could have her. It required a phone call, but he would still be the one in control. As he reached for the phone on the nightstand, he noted the time: two-thirty. For what he had in mind, the groggier she was, the better.

"Hello?"

The huskiness in her voice assured him she had been sound asleep. "What are you wearing?"

"David?"

He could imagine her rubbing her eyes and pulling herself upright. "Don't get up. I want you just how I picture you in my mind, stretched out on your bed, all warm and dreamy. What are you wearing?"

"My blue nightgown."

"The one you had on for about five minutes Friday night?"

"Yes, but David—"

"Take it off."

"What?"

"Take it off. Slowly. Slide it up your thighs, then lift your hips just enough to pull the gown up to your waist. You know what I mean. Do it the way I would if I were there. Are you doing it?"

"David, this is—"

"Either do what I say or I'm hanging up. I want you so bad right now, I hurt, but if you don't want to play with me—"

"Okay."

"I want you exposed to me, Holly. No nightgown, no underwear, no sheets. Is that how you are now? Is your gown up around your waist?"

She didn't answer for a few seconds, but David was certain she was complying. "Did you make yourself ready for me, Holly?"

"Yes."

"Good. Now keep your eyes closed. I'm there with you. At the foot of your bed. You're going to have to spread your legs wider to make room for me. I can feel you resisting, Holly. Do you want me to hang up?"

He heard her sigh, and her whispered "No."

"All right then. I'm kneeling between your legs. Your hand is my hand now. I want to touch what I see, but you'll have to help me. Run my fingers up and down your thighs, outside, then in. Lightly. Barely graze your skin. Yes, that's it. You feel like expensive silk to me. Did you know that? I see you arching. You want me to touch you there, don't you?" He waited a heartbeat. "Say it."

"Yes."

"Brush my fingers over your curls. Easy. Don't sneak inside. It's not time for that yet. That's enough. I want to see the rest of you now. You can move the phone away from your ear long enough to pull the nightgown off completely." He paused, sure of her obedience. "Are you back?"

"Mm-hmm."

"You're absolutely beautiful, just like the last time I saw you. I'm going to need both hands from here on. Cradle the phone between your ear and the pillow. That's the way. You know how crazy I am about your breasts. Offer them up to me, love. Lift them and press them together so that I can bury my face in them both at once.
Yes.
You really are so perfect. I've got your right nipple between my teeth. Oh, god, you taste good. Squeeze it, Holly. Feel me there, sucking on your sweet tit.

"I'm kissing my way over to your left breast now, but I need you to touch me, too. Reach down and stroke me with your right hand. I'm glad you're not shy about touching me anymore. Do what you did on Sunday morning, love. Oh, god, that's good. Don't forget, I'm still loving your left breast. Are you with me, Holly? Do you feel my tongue licking you?"

She let out a small moan, and he tightened the fist around his shaft.

"Are you wet? Let my fingers find out for themselves. Slide them very slowly down over your stomach and through those pretty curls, right over that sensitive little bump of flesh. No, don't dally there. Go further. Slowly now, dip two fingers inside. I always use two fingers to get you ready for me. Do you ever think about that? I do." He stroked his erection and had no problem imagining that it was her mouth on him.

"I think too much about you, and kissing your breasts, and slipping my fingers in and out of you while you rub yourself against my palm and purr in my ear. God, you're so tight... and hot. Tell me how hot you are."

"David
..." Her voice was raw with need.

"You can have me, love. Your mouth feels so good sucking on me. I'm big and hard, and just about ready to burst, but I want to be inside you. Guide me, baby. Press me against you, right where you want me. Now move me, up and down then in and out. That's it. Up and down. In and out. Don't stop. C'mon, stay with me, honey. A little faster now. Oh, god, you're good. I'm almost there. Come with me,
please."

He could hear her breathing clearly now-—short, broken gasps that harmonized with his own. "Say when." He clung to the edge of the cliff, waiting for her.

"Now."

He let go, knowing she was with him all the way.

Moments later, releasing his own ragged breath, he murmured, "G'night, Holly." And hung up before she could say a word.

The dreamy cloud of pleasure lifted from Holly's mind with the disconnecting click. It took a little longer for her body to catch up.

Damn him.

Chapter 17

David had only been asleep a few hours when the call came. Mick D'Angelo was willing to meet him at the Peacock Lounge in two hours. At the appointed time, David strolled into the nearly deserted bar as if his heart wasn't racing with excitement.

He mentally dismissed the lone woman talking to the bartender. Only one other patron remained, and he was either a professional wrestler or Mick D'Angelo's muscle. The only hair on his big head was a thick, brown Fu Manchu moustache. Even his eyebrows had been shaved off. The fact that he was seated at a table in the far corner of the room did not hide his considerable size.

As soon as the hulk spotted David, he stood up and jerked his thumb toward the men's room. David realized he had underestimated the guy's height and weight—he was literally a giant. It occurred to him that the man wouldn't need a weapon to be frightening, but he probably carried one anyway. Something like a chainsaw perhaps.

In spite of the little voice screaming that this was one of the stupidest things he had ever done, David followed the hulk into the restroom.

"Stwip to the skin."

David's head tilted back with a jolt. Hulk not only had a lisp, but a decidedly feminine pitch to his voice. And he was blocking the exit. "Hey man, I thought you were somebody else. I'll just go back out there and wait—"

"Aren't you David Wells? Word was you were a pwetty boy. Be cool. I pwefer tits with my piece of ass. I work for Mr. D'Angelo. You don't get to see him unless I guarantee you're not wired... anywhere."

David's mind ran through his options, which were severely limited by his desire to meet D'Angelo. He unbuttoned his shirt and removed it. Hulk took it from him, gave it a thorough inspection and hung it over the door to a stall. Next went his shoes, socks, and slacks. Feeling less certain about his need to see D'Angelo every minute, he tried to remain as nonchalant as one could while wearing nothing but bikini briefs in front of a giant fruit fly. A disgusted sneer from his tormentor got him to remove the last of his clothes.

"Arms over your head. Spread your legs."

David did as he was told and gave in to the urge to close his eyes as Hulk circled him. Three swipes of the man's big, calloused hand verified that David had nothing hidden in any crevice.

"Okay. Get dwessed and come back out. I'll get Mick."

David had his clothes back on a minute later. It took several minutes more to replenish his lungs with air. When he reentered the lounge, he saw Hulk standing beside the table he had vacated. Seated next to him was an overweight, middle-aged man with thinning black hair slicked straight back from his face and a bulbous nose that had experienced one fight too many.

"Mick D'Angelo," the man said, introducing himself with a friendly smile that didn't reach his eyes. He didn't rise or offer his hand, merely waved toward the chair on the other side of the small table.

"Your receptionist has cold hands, D'Angelo," David stated in a flat tone as he sat down. "A little extreme for a simple conversation."

D'Angelo shrugged. "I can't take chances. I already know you're a reporter, and a reputable one at that. I figure you could be looking for a hot story."

"I'm not."

"So you say. At any rate, now that I know you're not recording our little chat, I can say anything and it would be our word against yours. So, tell me what I can do for you."

"I represent someone who might be interested in buying one of your special films."

"This person's with the government?"

"Yes, but he wants it as a gift for a rather influential foreigner."

"Middle East?"

"I didn't ask. Don't really want to know."

"That's okay. I have a fair idea. At least now I understand how you got my name. This isn't the first time a politician has come to me for a buy. When you carry a unique line of products, word gets around. Tell me, Mr. Wells, where do you fit into this goodwill operation?"

"The secre—, er, I mean, the government employee did me a big favor a few months back. Slipped me some highly confidential information. I thought I was repaying it in kind until your trained ape redefined the term 'close encounters'."

D'Angelo allowed himself a horselaugh, then instantly got serious again. "I'm going to go with my gut on this and believe you. I can usually judge a man's honesty by looking in his eyes. You've got honest eyes, Mr. Wells. But if I've made a mistake this time, I guarantee you'll suffer ten times more than I will. You might consider what a
real
close encounter with Butch would be like."

He paused to make sure his threat had taken root. "Okay. I've got something for every taste. Depending on the subject matter, the tapes run from a hundred to a thousand dollars each. You want to see them first, that costs, too."

"Just to see what I'm buying?"

"Sometimes that's all a person wants is to see it once. Nothing's free. So, what's the man looking for?"

"Actually, I don't think what he wants would be in the price range you mentioned. He was under the impression you had an original movie... the kind someone would die for." He kept his eyes on D'Angelo's and saw the acknowledgement there.

"There is only one DVD, no copies. It would suit my purposes for it to leave the country. But it's a big risk for me to even take it out of safekeeping. Viewing cost will be ten grand. Purchase price is one million."

David managed to keep from gaping only with the greatest effort. Instead, he nodded as if it was what he had expected to hear. "I have to see it first. The fee's no problem. I'll decide if it's worth the price tag after that. When and where?"

"I have a specially equipped screening room. I could have it available tonight. I'll call you with the directions when it's time. Cash only, nothing larger than hundreds. Come alone, and if you start getting any funny ideas about what a good story this would make, just think about Butch's cold hands."

By the time David returned to his hotel room, he was seriously questioning his sanity. He had never taken a risk this big for a story. His
life
was actually on the line. And where the hell was he going to get ten thousand dollars by tonight?

On the other hand,
if
he could get the money, and
if
he could get a look at the film, he would have the kind of story that could put his career over the top. Did the end justify the means?

You bet your ass it did!

His editor ran over the same ground when David called in, then came up with the same conclusion, but he refused to go along with David's plan to stick his neck out all alone. He told David to stand by while he made a few calls.