Diamonds and Toads: A Modern Fairy Tale (17 page)

And that’s when he decided she wouldn’t until
he was part of her, inside her.

But that didn’t mean he couldn’t continue
what she’d started.

So he slid his finger out of her and picked
up the half-melted bowl of ice cream, then he dribbled it down over
her sex.

* * *

The room started to spin. Or maybe it was
just Isadora’s brain. Lack of oxygen. She hadn’t been able to get
air into her lungs by any satisfying degree since Sam sucked the
first traces of ice cream off her nipples a few minutes ago—or, was
it hours? She had no idea.

Cold damp met the hot flesh of her sex. She
dragged her eyelids open and tried to focus, but before she could
do so hot, moist breath and the deliriously delicious silken glide
of Sam’s tongue swept over her labia. An empty, cavernous aching
need, centered in her vagina, gripped her and made her cry out.

And then he was suckling that same flesh,
then licking it, then suckling. He was moaning now, too, and
murmuring things she couldn’t decipher. She felt his tongue move
closer to her clit and she arched. Her palms were clammy where they
gripped her knees. He stroked his tongue rapidly over her inner
lips and then she felt it shoot up into her and out again. He
repeated this several more times before he took her outer lips
between his thumbs and forefingers and spread them. He licked her
from bottom to top and then concentrated his full attention on her
clitoris, rolling his tongue around it, flicking it, and finally
taking it between his lips and gently sucking it while he continued
the swift, tickling caress.

The muscles of her vagina grew taut. Grasping
Sam’s head in her hands, she pressed him closer and lifted her
pelvis. She felt out of control of her body. The same as
before—only more concentrated. As if her body were reaching for
something, as if, if she just remained still, concentrated hard
enough, remained taut, she would reach the peak, the resolution, to
the acute pleasure he was giving her.

And just as her vision blurred, just as she
felt close to touching it, Sam pulled back and closed her legs.

“Ready for a shower?”

* * *

I hate you, Sam Slade!
She didn’t dare
attempt words, even though she would dearly love to give him a
piece of her mind. With her luck, she’d only give him more
ammunition to taunt her with.

So, instead of speaking, instead of shoving
ice cream in his face as he deserved, Isadora allowed Sam to lift
her off the table and carry her into his bathroom. Her muscles were
mush, anyway, so she doubted she could walk right now in any
case.

Okay. Remember: he’s going to give you an
orgasm. At some point, please God, he’s going to give you an
orgasm. Just go with the flow.

The shower was not the erotic bit of foreplay
she’d thought it was going to be. And by the size of his ginormous
erection, she figured he must be ready to get down to the real
business of intercourse, just as she was.

His size was rather daunting, she had to
admit. But, he’d been a pro—he’d been with lots of women and they’d
all survived. Geez, if his memoirs were to be believed, those women
had been regulars. She’d just have to trust that he knew what he
was doing when it came to getting that thing inside a lady.

When he swiveled around and grabbed the soap
off its cradle, her eyes scanned his muscular shoulders then
stopped short on the frogman tattoo he’d gotten on their scuba trip
to Hawaii. Sexy. Her vision clouded with unwanted tears. Gritting
her teeth, she blinked them away.
Water under the bridge.
She felt for the birth control patch on her bottom then.
Good.
Still there.

“Do you want me to scrub your back?” he
asked.

Better not.
Shaking her head, she took
the soap and sponge from him.

“How about down here?” he said. Without
waiting for an answer, he massaged soap over her swollen sex with
the fingers of one hand. “Or here?” he said, using the other to do
the same to her breast. He dipped his head and nipped her bottom
lip with his teeth. Then he drove his tongue into her mouth and
pressed her up against the ceramic tile wall of the shower.

Well, maybe this would be an erotic interlude
after all.

* * *

After toweling them both dry, Sam swept Izzy
into his arms again and carried her over to his bed. The time had
come—finally—to do what he’d fantasized about doing since the first
day he’d met her. Then, once he’d done it, he’d close this chapter
of his life for good.

He settled her on the mattress and lay down
on his side next to her. He lifted a curly lock of her hair off her
breast and brushed the silken ends over his lips. The fresh scent
of it made his head swim.

She stroked his cheek with her fingertips and
he lowered his head and kissed her. After a minute he swung around
and pulled a condom from the drawer of his nightstand.

“How long’s it been for you? Since you last
had sex?” he asked.

A blush traveled over her cheeks. She held up
one index finger.

“A week?”

She shook her head.

“A month?”

She shook her head again.

“A—a
year?
”

She nodded and looked away.

He took her chin in his hand and forced her
to look at him. “Well, it’s been quite a while for me, too—more
like
two
years.” She blinked at him and he nodded. Then he
showed her the condom. “Do we need this?”

She shook her head and rolled to her side,
showing him the b.c. patch on her rear.

“Ahh. Got it. And no pesky STDs, right?”

Her eyes widened. She shook her head.

“Good. Me either.” He bent down and kissed
her again before saying, “Iz, I miss your voice. Why won’t you talk
to me?”

She shrugged.

Sam sighed. “All right. Have it your way.”
Then he settled himself on top of her and began kissing her in
earnest. This time, as she cradled him between her thighs, there
was nothing but hot, damp, burgeoning flesh between them.

* * *

Isadora ran her hands over Sam’s muscular
butt cheeks and pressed him against the aching center of her as she
turned her head, giving him better access to her neck and ear. A
moan flew from her throat. He could make her want to do it so
easily.

His mouth, his hands, it seemed were
everywhere at once. Firing her blood and making her mad with want
of him. An uncontrollable desire to bite, to suck, to taste came
over her.

She brushed her lips across the left side of
his chest and found his brown nipple.
Oh God, Sam. Sam. It was
you—always you.
She sucked it hard into her mouth and he
moaned. Then she traced open-mouthed kisses upward, to the curve of
his neck. She sucked him there too. Then she bit.

He grabbed hold of her hands and yanked them
over her head. Then he drove his tongue deep into her mouth and
rocked between her thighs, teasing her clit with the warm length of
his erection.

The kiss ended and Sam’s breath beat against
her cheek. “You’re making me lose control, Iz. Stop it.”

She shook her head.

He squeezed her hands and pushed them down
further into the pillow. “Lie still,” he said. He raised up, sat
back on his haunches. “Don’t move.”

He caressed her then. Caressed her breasts,
her abdomen, her thighs and calves, before he settled down with his
head between her thighs. “I’m going to get you ready for me.”

Isadora’s mouth tipped up in a smile. She
nodded and closed her eyes.
Yes!

He set about it then, in much the same way as
before. But this time, while he teased and taunted her clitoris, he
sent two fingers up inside her and stroked some magical place there
that had her arching and gasping for air in seconds.

Her thighs shook. Her muscles tightened. Her
eyes clenched tight. She held her breath. A hot wave of intense
pleasure filled her womb, shot internal lightning quivers straight
through her, up to her brain.

He jerked his head back. “No. Wait for me.”
He was up and over her then, teasing her clit with the pad of his
thumb and pushing into her, filling her up.

In seconds, they were straining together,
moving in time to the beat of their pounding hearts.

“Good. So good,” he mumbled.

Yes!
She twisted and came up off the
bed. Her vaginal walls spasmed around him and he cried out, “Ahh!
God!” He rose up and gripped her hips. Then he went deeper, faster.
The head of his erection pounded almost painfully against her
cervix.

Isadora opened even more for him and arched
her back. Sam’s mouth came down on her nipple and he sucked hard.
Hot and cold chills traveled over her skin. “Yes!”

In the next second, her vagina convulsed.
Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! Ohhhh Go-o-o-d! Sam! Sam! I love this!
“Sam! I love you!”

Then everything went dark.

* * *

Sam lost control. He yelled out. His cock
throbbed with the fierceness of the pleasure. It shuddered and
jerked. And then, at last, release. So piercing in its ferocity,
that silver spots floated behind his eyelids as he shot hot
ejaculate high up inside her.

Ears ringing and mind spinning, he somehow
managed to roll onto his back before he lost consciousness.

* * *

Isadora slid one foot to the floor and
slithered off the bed and out from under Sam’s sleep-heavy arm. The
red illuminated numbers on the nightstand’s clock told her it was
6:32 a.m.

He mumbled something in his sleep. She bugged
her eyes at him and froze, but he rolled over and didn’t waken.

Holding her breath, she tiptoed over to his
closet, pulled out a chambray shirt, and silently padded down the
hall to the other bathroom.

Thirty minutes later, she was showered,
shaved and walking toward the kitchen to try her hand at coffee
making again.

She was met by the aftermath of their ice
cream and sex interlude. The scent of vanilla filled the air and
the tabletop had a Pollock-esque design of dried cream splatters
and streaks. So did much of the gold vinyl tiled floor.

She put her hands on her hips.
First,
coffee. Then, clean up.
She hadn’t forgotten her deal with the
fairy.

This time, she’d use a filter. She’d figured
out that much from yesterday’s experiment and the result was much
better. And even though she still needed sugar to disguise the
horrid flavor, the caffeine it offered gave her the right amount of
kick-start she needed for the day.

She sat at the table on the deck with the
bound galley in her hands, fully intending to read another chapter.
As she looked at the words on the page, they blurred, and memories
of the erotic night she’d just had pushed past her will to not
examine it.

Three times.
They’d done it
three
times!
And every time, she’d had one.
Every time.

He
was
good. She’d give him that.

A ball of anxiety settled in her stomach.
But—what about that ‘love’ thing she’d cried out to him that
first time?

* * *

Isadora only managed to drink one cup of
coffee before her restless mind forced her to get up and get busy
and try to put her thoughts on something else.

So she strode back into the kitchen and, this
time, searched out items that looked like cleaning supplies.

She found a box of pads that already had blue
powdered soap in them. You just had to run them under water to get
the suds going.
This was like being given the key to the House
of Dior!

She cleaned the tiles first. It was a little
harder than she’d thought it would be. She ended up having to use
half a roll of paper towels to get all the blue soap up off the
floor. But when she was done, she stood with her arms akimbo and
beamed. Sam would be so proud of her.

She attacked the kitchen table next. This
time, she used less water and made sure she had paper towels ready
to sop up the excess before it dripped over the edge.

This was how Sam found her a few minutes
later, cheerfully scrubbing the tabletop and humming that
whistle-work song.

She looked up and grinned.

“What in bloody hell? Give me that!” He
yanked the blue sudsy pad out of her hand and tossed it across the
kitchen into the sink. “You’re scratching the finish. Shit. That’s
my great-grandmother’s fucking table. Can you not do
anything
right?” He took her by the shoulders and pushed her
toward the doorway. “Move. Just—just get out of here. I’ll do
this.”

* * *

Isadora ran into the living room, tore off
the shirt she wore, dragged on her discarded sports bra and shorts
from the night before, and snapped up her clutch. Then she fled
into the bathroom and flung the items she’d left on the counter
into her carry-on.
Where? Where could she go?
She squeezed
her eyes shut and shook her head. Then, gritting her teeth, she
swallowed down the bitter lump in her throat and hoisted the strap
over her shoulder with shaking hands.
Anywhere but here.

The sliding glass door seemed a hundred miles
away as she hustled back through the living room toward it. Then
the goddamned thing fought her when she tried to get it open.

“Izzy? Where—what are you doing?” Sam bounded
toward her. She panicked. Grasping the handle in both hands, she
jimmied it as hard as she could. It shot open and she ran. Past the
table and across the deck to the dock. Her right foot was just
about to land on the wood plank when a long, brawny arm snaked
around her waist and hauled her off her feet.

* * *

“I’m sorry,” he said against her ear. He slid
her to her feet and then wrapped his other arm around her. “I’m
sorry.” He lifted his hand and stroked the hair away from her brow
and kissed her temple. “Don’t go.”