French Quarter (30 page)

Jack watched as she lifted a bite of his jambalaya to her lovely berry lips. A moment later, she gave him another smile. “Spicy, but I like it.”

He couldn’t help laughing. In one simple sentence, she’d summed up his feelings for her.

One by one, she tried each of the other dishes, and one by one, she gave her approval, finally thanking him for introducing her to so many Cajun delicacies all at once. “I didn’t really know how much I liked hot things before.”

Again, he grinned at her unintended double entendre. This time he couldn’t help himself from saying, “
I
did,
chere
.”

She blushed and he laughed. “Darlin’, there you go again.”

“Old habit,” she said, swallowing, looking nervous. “And…I haven’t seen you in a while. I suppose my comfort level has…faded a little.”

“My fault,” he supplied. “And I need to tell you why.”

She blinked, looking interested in what he had to say, and reached for her wine. “I’d like to know…what happened. I mean, I know it was me who changed my mind about moving in with you, but I never wanted to stop seeing you.”

He tilted his head, wanting to get the truth on the table right now. He wanted her honesty back, every blunt, lovely, raw part of it. “You didn’t change your mind about movin’ in with me,
chere
. Todd changed it for you.”

Her mouth dropped open.

“Darlin’, I hid some surveillance cameras in Todd’s house, but then I fell behind on my work, so it took me this long to get around to lookin’ at ‘em all. Late last night I watched the tape from that day after you said you’d come live with me. I saw his threats, Liz. I know why you sent that message now.”

He shook his head, continuing. “But back then…I didn’t understand. I was just hurt, and angry. I thought you didn’t want to be with me…be with me in a way that means somethin’, a way that lasts. I fucked up. I should’ve called you. I was an idiot to go runnin’ in the opposite direction, but I was afraid of exactly that—of gettin’ hurt, and I didn’t want to get hurt any worse than I already was. I was so wrapped up in my own feelings that I didn’t spend enough time tryin’ to figure out yours.” And the truth, of course, was that he
still
didn’t know her feelings, not really. He hoped she cared for him, hoped she wanted the same thing he did from their relationship. But he wasn’t going to push that right now. There was more to tell her.

“I took that tape to the police this mornin’,
chere
. They were real interested, especially when I filled ‘em in on his threats and his attack on you. He hasn’t really done anything they can arrest him for without you or Lynda pressin’ charges, and they said they wouldn’t even recommend that, Todd bein’ a pretty slick guy in terms of credentials and corporate backing, and the incidents bein’ unprovable other than the one on tape, which is inadmissible. But you don’t have to worry anymore because a couple guys down at the precinct are gonna make enough trouble for him that you won’t hear from him again.”

She looked astonished. “How can you be sure? What are they going to do?”

“First they’re gonna have a little talk with old Todd, tell him what they know, then suggest he clear outta New Orleans, ask his bosses for a transfer somewhere else. If he’s too stupid to do that, they’ll do it for him—they’ll let his company know exactly what sorta shit he’s been up to and explain that it’s in everyone’s best interest for Todd to relocate.” He gave her a knowing grin. “And trust me, darlin’—these guys can be pretty persuasive.”

In that very moment, Liz felt a huge weight lift from her shoulders. It was as if she’d been holding her breath for a very long time and now could suddenly breathe again. Perhaps she’d managed to keep Todd out of her thoughts, but she supposed he’d never really been out of her mind completely—except for those wonderful, wild nights she’d spent with Jack. Now, suddenly, it was as if Todd and his ugly threats had been banished from her head and her heart for good. Jack had, amazingly, just succeeded in wiping them all away.

“Jack, I can’t thank you enough for this. I can’t tell you what a burden you’ve just taken away from me.”

He shook his head. “Don’t thank me, darlin’. I didn’t have any other choice. I couldn’t rest easy until that guy was outta your life for good. I only hope maybe it makes up just a little for my shitty behavior.”

“Jack, I—”

“Shh, wait.” He reached across the table for her hand. “I have to say somethin’, right now. I can’t let another minute pass.” He paused, took a deep breath, and Liz got lost in the depths of his dark, consuming gaze. “I’m so sorry,
chere
. Is there any way you can forgive me?”

A rush of pure joy invaded Liz’s lungs, her whole body, her whole being. “Yes,” she said. Then more emphatically, “
Yes
.”

For a long moment, only silence stretched between them as they gazed into each other’s eyes across the table. Night was falling in the Quarter; in the distance, someone played a saxophone, and bits of neon began to light yet another evening of excitement and decadence on the other end of Bourbon Street. But Liz was barely aware of anything else but the man before her, the man whose eyes at once seemed to cherish her and ravish her, the man who embraced every part of her, from the shy to the wanton.

Finally, Jack spoke, his voice low and filled with seduction. “I’ve missed bein’ inside you,
chere
. I’ve missed it so bad it’s like I can’t breathe.”

She glanced down at her breasts, felt the warm familiar stirrings between her legs, thought of something she wanted to tell him and almost didn’t, too shy, but then remembered—with Jack, she didn’t
have
to be shy. Jack would want to know. “Last night,” she began, lifting her eyes, “I fucked myself with the vibrator you gave me and I pretended you were watching me.”

His eyes fell closed for a moment, his jaw dropping slightly—she loved how taken aback and breathless he appeared. His voice was no more than a rasp. “Did you make yourself come?”

She nodded, feeling nearly as weak now as he looked.

“Was it good, baby?”

Another nod. “But afterward…I was so sad. I missed you. I wanted it to be
you
inside me.”

He rose from his chair and took her hands, guiding her to her feet, as well. His palms rose gently to her cheeks and his mouth descended on hers—strong, sweet, firm, his kiss filled with a desperation she’d never felt before. She kissed him back without reserve—the sexy honesty she’d just dished out had filled her with heat and readiness and the sense that with Jack, she didn’t need to hold anything back, nothing at all. He got to have all of her. And tonight there wouldn’t be anyone but the two of them making each other’s bodies echo with pleasure.

His hands eased down to her shoulders, onto her breasts, where they tenderly squeezed, and then his fingertips closed around her nipples through the dress and bra, and she was moaning without thought, and whispering up to him the words that kept playing in her brain. “Fuck me, Jack. Please fuck me. Now.”

He took both her hands and silently drew her in through the open French doors.

Her body ached for him. She wanted him to devour her.

Without ever letting his eyes leave hers, he reached around behind her, found the zipper at her back, and slowly lowered it, each painstaking inch seeming like a mile. Then his strong hands were on her back, roaming in a hot, lingering caress, until they came to her shoulders to peel the dress down, letting it fall to her hips. Not wanting to stretch anything out this time, she wiggled slightly and the fabric dropped at her feet.

Jack’s gaze traveled the length of her, taking in the blue lace bra and thong, and the strappy heels the color of warm cream. “Mmm,
chere
, you look good enough to eat.”

She pinned him with a wicked look. “This is what I wore for you on the night you threw Todd out. This is what you never got to see.”

Jack gave his head a short shake. “Don’t mention his name. I don’t wanna think about anything bad here—just me and you and all this pretty blue lace.”

His words burned through her, again reminding her how anxious she was. It wasn’t like her, this urge to rush, but having Jack’s hands on her again—even just his eyes—was getting her hot to the point of combustion. She’d been missing him too long. Her pussy throbbed and her thighs ached. Her breasts seared with need, as well, her nipples hard and pointed just inside the low scalloped edge of her bra. She whispered again. “Fuck me, Jack. Fuck me so hard I scream.”

To her surprise, he tilted his head, letting his heated expression be replaced with one of amusement. “Now, now,
chere
—what happened to stretchin’ things out?”

“That’s when we were seeing each other every night. It’s been too long, Jack.”

“I agree. I’ve been sufferin’ through life with a perpetual hard-on lately. But I can only guess you rubbed off on me somewhere along the way, ‘cause as much as I want to nail you to the bed with my cock right now, I also want to take it slow, make it steamy, make it…special.”

Liz let out a breath and felt guilty for the times she’d tortured him with hours of foreplay. Now she found herself wondering how he’d stood it. “It
will
be special. Whether it’s fast or slow, hard or soft, it’ll be special. I don’t want to wait.”

A slow, confident smile unfurled on his stubbled face. “Well, Mistress Liz, I’m sorry, but I’m the one takin’ control tonight, so you’ll just have to play it my way.”

Chapter 13

The words made her cunt swell even more. She was so wet for him, needed his big, hot shaft inside her so bad. How was she going to survive it?

“Go in the bedroom and lie down,” he instructed.

She thought of protesting, but decided it was futile. Just like her when she got her mind set on controlling their sex, she knew Jack wouldn’t give in until he was good and ready.

Once she’d reclined, she realized he hadn’t followed her. “Jack? Are you coming?”

She heard him chuckle. “My impatient
petite fille
,” he murmured from the other room. She thought it a vast understatement.

When he still hadn’t appeared a few seconds later, she couldn’t help touching herself. With one hand she began caressing her breast through her bra, with the other she delivered light strokes to her clit through the lace, thinking—
please, Jack, please.

Finally, he appeared in the doorway, but to her utter surprise, he’d been…transformed. He stood naked, his big, lovely cock at full attention, stretched up past his navel, his broad chest draped with purple and gold Mardi Gras beads, his handsome face covered with a shiny Mardi Gras mask so that only his eyes, mouth, and dark-stubbled chin were visible. He looked as mysterious and dangerous as she’d ever thought him and her pussy seemed to clench, her nipples tightening as she studied him, this Bacchanalian man who looked ready to perform primitive sexual rituals on her.

Only as he approached did she realize he held more Mardi Gras paraphernalia in his hands. Leaning over the bed, he tenderly lifted her head and draped strands of the colored beads around her neck, across her chest. Around her shoulders he arranged a long purple feather boa. Finally, he placed a mask of purple glitter and sequins over her eyes. Suddenly, she felt as enigmatic as she thought him just now; something about hiding themselves behind the masks was almost as erotic as if they were two strangers at Mardi Gras who’d rendezvoused in this apartment for a primal sexual encounter.

“Get up,” he said softly.

The beads jangled together as she rose to her feet, gathering the boa around her. Following his lead, she took a few steps until, together, they stood before the long mirror on his closet door. “Look at you,” he breathed, his voice a barely audible wisp, coming even lower than that distant saxophone still playing somewhere beyond the windows and doors of Jack’s apartment. “The perfect Mardi Gras queen, looking for her king at a Bacchanal. Looking for the man worthy of fucking her.”

“You look very worthy,” she whispered, letting her gaze drop to his dick in the mirror.

A small grin formed below his mask. “Do you remember,
chere
, when you told me your fantasy about havin’ sex on a float in a Mardi Gras parade?”

Up to now, it hadn’t crossed her mind, but the question made her smile.

“Well, darlin’, it’s a long time ‘til Mardi Gras rolls back around. But come next February, maybe I can arrange such an erotic little treat for you. And until then, we can just consider this practice.”

With that, he stepped behind her and reached around to cup her breasts. As they both watched themselves in the mirror, he gently massaged them, causing the beads to click softly together, making her breath come heavy from the long-awaited pleasure. Dipping his thumbs into the lace, he first raked them over ultra-hard nipples, forcing a whimper from her, and then he pulled the lace edges down just far enough that her stiffened buds jutted out. “Such pretty breasts,” he whispered in her ear, twirling the sensitive pink tips between his thumbs and forefingers.

“Suck them,” she said.

To her shock, he responded with a laugh, then whispered, “Only when I’m good and ready, darlin’.”

The man was maddening.

His hands left her breasts then, slowly making their way down over the curve of her waist, the thin strap of blue lace at her hip, her thighs. She knew the tender touches were purposeful teases, and she endured them not only because he was giving her no choice, but also because she was starting to accept that she would do what he wanted, when he wanted, how he wanted, on this particular night.