Love Deluxe (27 page)

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Authors: Kimball Lee

BOOK: Love Deluxe
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“I love you more than my own life,” he said. “I don’t want you thinking of any man but me.”

“I don’t, my love, why would I?”

I was melting under the relentless pressure and as I neared the edge he worked two long fingers inside me and I began to shudder and moan. He stopped abruptly, moved his hands away and left me stinging and aching for more. He unzipped my dress and it fell in a heap, I heard him unbuckling his pants as he guided me to a desk in front of the wall of windows. I was naked except for the strapless bra. He unhooked it and it fell away, then he stood behind me and pinched my nipples relentlessly as I cried out.

“Hush,” he said, as one hand disappeared I heard his pants unzip, he pressed me forward over the desk, the sharp edge bit into my flesh but I didn’t move. He used his finger to probe and open me enough to enter. He was gentle at first but I was so swollen from his fingers bringing me so close to orgasm that he could barely penetrate. “Spread your legs,” he said in a voice that chilled me to the bone. My legs were shaking as I moved them apart, he began to work my sex again with his fingers, massaging hard until I was seized with spasms and cried out as he held me against him.

“That’s good, that’s better, baby. Do you like it this way?” he whispered.

I was groaning then, trying to take a deep breath and wet enough that he moved in and out more easily and thrust deeper and harder. He suddenly slammed so deeply that I cried out and tried to twist my hips away.

“Are you sure you want me, Cate? I can keep this up for as long as it takes but I’ll stop now if you tell me to.”

My words were shaky, as I said, “I want you, don’t stop.”

He held me, pulled me onto him and plunged forward, I swallowed the cry in my throat and it sounded like a moan.

“That’s it, feel it,” he said, echoes of the Kentucky accent caused me to gasp and tears sprang to my eyes.

My head buzzed and my face was wet as I steeled myself against the relentless thrusts, how could I want this? It felt too deep and too full. But my body betrayed me and began to lift against him, and the pain turned to pleasure as shame flooded me and I shuddered violently and reached around to pull him in as deeply as possible.

“Ahhhh, fuck!” he cried and fell against me.

I was pinned by his body, aching, hot with rage and disgust at my need of him. He reached under me and touched my clitoris while he was still in me; it was too sensitive and burned at his touch. His fingers covered it with our fluids and the pain was sharp and excruciating. I reached for his hand but he wouldn’t stop, it burned so badly I was about to scream when a monster orgasm gripped me and I thrashed against his hand, then lay panting.

“That’s my girl, now when I fuck you, you’ll stay fucked.” I slid to the floor and watched him dress, his dick was bloody and he didn’t bother to wipe it off. “Don’t wait up,” he said as he walked out the door.

***

After sitting waist deep in a tub of cool water with blood seeping out and around me as I wept with shame, I slipped into a nightgown, lay in bed with the curtains open and stared at the dazzling lights thirty six floors below. Was there anything I wouldn’t take from this man, how fucking needy could I be? And if it was just the need to not be alone, why didn’t I go to McKay? In my former life I’d honeymooned in this very town with Henry, we made love every night and then talked until dawn, comparing our pasts and planning our future. But the world ripped that life away and presented me with a choice one hundred and eighty degrees away from my known normal. And hadn’t I clung to it as it eased the pain in my soul and made
that
hurt recede? What lows would I sink to with John, to keep him by my side no matter the cost? Opening my heart and my legs to him time and again, because the thought of living without him in some imitation of the real world too difficult to bear.

In the morning he was asleep beside me, I raised the comforter and he was naked, still covered in my dried blood as he dreamed peacefully. I grabbed a Diet Coke from the wet bar, filled a glass with ice, poured and drank it down. I showered, teased the top of my hair and pulled it into a high ponytail. I dressed in a cream sweater dress with a wide belt and brown suede riding boots and added a little mascara and lipstick. I dumped the contents of last night’s clutch into a leather tote, went to John’s bedside table where stacks of ten thousand dollar bills were piled high, put a few in my purse and went downstairs to the buffet. As I waited in line, dapper Drew walked past wearing last night’s suit.

He stopped and gave me a genuine smile, he was engaging and not as young as I thought.

Hey, wow, you even look hot in the morning,” he said. “Where’s Dolph Lundgren?”

“Are those the only clothes you own?” I asked.

He smiled and said, “Nope, I haven’t been to bed yet, how about you?

“Yes, I slept well,” I lied and thought,
if you only knew the ordeal you caused me, you little shit.

He reached in his suit pocket, handed me a card and said, “Give me a call if you’re ever in L.A., see ya later Mrs. Robinson.”

The line had moved far ahead of me and I hurried to the podium and was seated in a booth. I looked at the card before I threw it away, it had his name, Andrew Perrin, and a phone number. I tucked it into a small zippered pocket in the tote and went to check out the food.

After eating enough breakfast to feed a small army I walked to a chair in an empty cocktail lounge, sat and dialed Dr. Rice’s cell number.

“Tara Rice,” she answered.

“Dr. Rice, this is Cate Stuart, so sorry to bother you on a holiday, just a quick question, please?”

“Well, happy New Year, Cate, what’s going on?”

“Well, I’m bleeding, from… my vagina and it’s because of sex, not my period and I was just wondering if that’s normal… or not?”

“Any lesions, tearing, do you use lubrication, any localized pain?”

“No lesions, some tearing, but nothing drastic, plenty of lubrication. The bleeding is from inside, and it’s somewhat painful during intercourse and I’m embarrassed to say… that it becomes pleasurable.”

“Cate, I can’t get to your chart today, but I seem to remember you’ve had some bruising and bleeding of the cervix in the past and if you’re being penetrated deeply that’s probably what’s happening. We’ll want to check it out, of course, but having seen your new husband I’ll go out on a limb and say you should tell him to pull back a bit.”

My face burned scarlet and I said, “Got it, my embarrassment is complete, thank you, Dr. Rice. We’re out of town; I’ll come in when we get back.”

“Don’t worry about it, Cate, don’t you imagine I’ve heard just about everything?”

In the gift shop right off the casino, I searched through the travel sized packages of assorted medications and purchased a tube of antibiotic/pain relieving cream. On a whim, I asked for a pack of menthol light cigarettes and picked up a flashy slot machine lighter. I applied the ointment in a restroom and thought about John. He went too far last night and why, because I flirted with some younger man for a few minutes? Women drooled over him constantly; did I get pissed off when he cranked up the charm and innuendos to secure his bonus buys? Was this the kind of marriage I wanted? A man who wanted to play nice one minute and draw blood the next?

I walked toward the
Via Bellagio
to do some shopping and I wondered, will this be my form of retribution? He treats me like a prostitute, there for his pleasure, and I pay him back by spending his money. And was it just for his pleasure? Did he force me to climax? Wasn’t fifty percent of responding to sex in the brain, after all? He was jealous and rough, but I could’ve stopped him. There were things on the desk I could have grabbed, a heavy paper weight and a letter opener, plenty of things at hand. He gave me the choice, he asked if I wanted him to stop and what did I say? That I wanted him and I did and I’m not sure if I did want him to stop even as I begged and whimpered. Emily was right, an hour with Dr. Freud would do me good.

I weaved through the casino toward the high end shopping area when I discovered I was in a row of five dollar machines. My gambling had always been at night but I figured, this is Las Vegas, weren’t people supposed to gamble twenty four hours a day? Playing a slot machine just after breakfast on New Year’s Day seemed like just the ticket. I walked among the rows until I came to three Top Dollar machines, one was a double pay and I sat down in front of it. I put my players card in, smiled at the familiar, “Welcome, Cate Stuart!” It made me think of playing side by side with McKay and I pushed that thought away, sick to think of how he would react to last night’s goings on. I lit a cigarette, fed the machine the five hundred dollars I’d won the night before and hit the button, the bow tie appeared immediately and my blood began to race in my veins.

“First Offer!” The perpetually happy electronic voice announced.

The top bill of five thousand dollars lit up and I thought
Happy New Year
to me!
When the times symbol blinked on and the machine said, “Five thousand dollars times two, ten thousand dollars!”

I put the cigarette to my mouth with a shaky hand and the second times sign lit up and the beloved machine announced, “Ten thousand dollars, times two. Twenty thousand dollars. Boy you’re a winner!”

I wasn’t sure if I had to, but I pressed the accept button at least ten times. Lights flashed, bells rang and people gathered around. I crushed out the cigarette and lit another, took a long drag as my heart was roared in my ears and I wondered,
What are the odds
?

An attendant arrived and used her radio to call for assistance. She asked for my ID and I moved down a few seats, smoked my cigarette, watched all the excited people, but really, I wanted to jump up and down and dance with the guy wearing a trucker’s cap and a ‘
Monica Really Sux
’ T-shirt. And why was this twenty thousand any different than the stacks of ten thousand I tossed in my purse that morning? And I decided, because it just was, it was a “bolt from the blue” kind of luck. The attendant counted the bills into my hand and when she was done I turned to the awed onlookers, held up the money and squealed. They all started laughing and talking at once and I picked up my tote and cigarettes and walked away unnoticed, leaving the crowd to compare tales of big wins and bigger losses. “Such is life,” my mother would say.

I went to the Hermes shop first, purchased a throw for my new living room in their signature orange cashmere and an elegant scarf that the sales woman insisted every girl must own as she tied it expertly around my ponytail. She would have the throw delivered to my suite, no need be burdened with packages, she assured me. I crossed the walkway to
Chanel
and felt my heart quicken as if the magic bow tie had just appeared, as I reached the door my cell phone rang and I found it easily in a pocket of the leather tote.

“Yes?”

“Hey buddy. Where are you? I woke up and you were gone. You’re still here aren’t you, tell me where you are? Say something, Catey, please.”

“I’m shopping.”

“Oh, good,” he sounded so relieved. “Have you eaten? I’m starving and I want to show you things and I want to tell you things, will you meet me at the buffet, please?”

“I had breakfast a while ago, I’m not hungry. You go ahead, let me finish my shopping and then we’ll meet up.”

“Do you promise?”

“Yes, meet me in the Conservatory in an hour and a half or so.”

At
Chanel
I bought a pale pink lambskin purse similar to the one from McKay but a size smaller.
That’s me,
I thought,
predictable, I like what I like
. I chose several long chains festooned with pearls and miniature
Chanel
logo charms. The lively young man helping me filled a dressing room with clothes, but I told him I told him I didn’t need anything else.

“Well, angel,” he said, “you may not need a classic suit but I’ve got a dress that is screaming your name. And remember, the only sure thing is that a girl can never have too many secret weapons!”

“That I can agree with,” I told him, “so bring it on.”

When he finished wrapping my goodies, including the excruciatingly glamorous dress, he laid out several pairs of sunglasses and said. “Un-huh, Jackie O, you’re not leaving without a pair of these. One pair, mon ami. Try them on, I’ll decide. No, no, no, yesssss!” We kissed on both cheeks and as I left and he said, “Two words, angel, Agent Provocateur.”

“Where?”

“Forum Shops near Caesars, go wild!”

I picked up three pairs of driving Mocs at Tod’s, another purse at Dior and asked what time it was as I paid.

 

Chapter Twenty

John was pacing as I made my way into the Conservatory, he spotted me and like a child offering a favorite toy, handed me an armful of roses.

“Guilty conscience?” I asked, intent on making him sweat a little, he certainly deserved to.

“God, yes. I’m sorry in so many ways, Cate. I don’t know what to say for myself.”

“Well, let me have a look at these gorgeous roses,” I said quietly.

His face lost some of its anguish and he said, “The pink ones are because you’re my true love, the yellow ones are because you’re my brave and beautiful Texas girl, and the white ones are because my love is pure and its forever.”

“I love them; let’s try to remember what we mean to each other so we can always be together. Now come on, let’s gamble, we’re in Vegas!”

“So you’re not mad at me?” he asked as we walked.

“I don’t know what I am; I know you’re pretty fucked up.”

He stopped, held my hand so I turned to face him, “You’re right and I’m sorry and I don’t want to be like that.”

“Well, that’s the thing about us; I’m pretty fucked up, too. Maybe that’s what we share, a common anguish, we’re the perfect pair, the tragic and the traumatized.”

“So you still love me, buddy, you forgive me?”

“No. I don’t forgive you for hurting me, but, yes, I love you.”

He held my face gently, kissed me from forehead to chin.

“I want to gamble, come on!” I said.

“Where do you want to play, sweetie? I won big last night at the
Venetian
, wanna go there? Let me grab some chips from the room.”

“Don’t you ever cash in your chips when you leave a casino? You had stacks of cash on the night stand, oh… I took some to shop with.”

“Good,” he said, “I want my baby to have everything she wants.”

In the elevator his eyes turned smoky, “Can I ever touch you again?”

“That depends,” I said as we stepped out on our floor and went into the room.

“Catey, I’m not kidding, I’m sick about what I did.”

“I know you are now, John, and what can I say, I responded to everything you did to me, but I
am
hurt. And not just physically although that’s pretty bad, too.”

He sunk to the bed and slumped forward, “I’m just like him,” he said, “like a dog marking its territory. All I could see was that arrogant kid in his fucking suit sniffing around my wife, I lost my mind and I took it out on you.”

I sat down beside him and we held each other for a while, his lips covered mine and we kissed as if we’d been apart for years. I knew he was hard just by the sound of his breathing and as the wetness seeped onto my panties I caught my breath at the stinging pain left from last night’s sex. I sat up fast, then stood and went into the bathroom and filled the tub partially with cool water as I’d done the night before. John was in the doorway looking miserable, he hung his head and turned to go.

“Stay, see if you enjoy it as much now as you did last night.”

“Please no, Cate,” he said but didn’t move.

I undressed and when I saw that my panties were spotted with new blood I tossed them at his feet. I eased into the water and it began to turn pink, he looked miserable and turned to go.

“Remember when I bathed you after your father beat you? Will you not do the same for me?”

“I can’t,” he turned his face away. “I’m not the monster he is, I’m not going to be. But I can’t look at what I’ve done.”

***

Caesars Palace was not so different than it was when I spent my honeymoon there twenty years before, just bigger and more elaborate. I wanted to show John
Top Dollar
and he wanted to teach me craps.

The craps tables were in the first part of the casino as we walked through so I said, “Let’s do this!”

He was in heaven, explaining the pass and don’t pass line, hard fours and sixes and snake eyes.

“Stop, I don’t want to think when I’m gambling.”

“Ok, buddy, hold on, I know what you’ll like.” He lined up a long row of chips in front of us on the lip of the table and the man with the stick said, “New shooter coming out,” and pushed the dice toward me.

I looked at John and he said, “Pick two, shake them in your hand and throw them.”

I picked them up and just before I threw them he said, “Be sure they hit the far end of the table.”

Oh crap
, I thought, looking around at all the people with bets on the table watching me with anticipation. I shook the dice and threw hard, they hit the end of the table and everyone cheered and the dealers pushed chips toward the bettors. I cast the dice eleven times, people crowded around, everyone was yelling and cheering, John looked like he’d discovered gold. I was caught up in the excitement then, although I had no idea what all those numbers on the tumbling dice meant. I threw again, as hard as I could and one flew off the table and into the crowd.

Everyone got quiet for a minute until a tall man in a Harley jacket said, “Damn baby that was a wild throw!”

Try as they might, the single missing die was never found, the crowd scattered and John collected his chips.

“Sorry,” I said.

“Hey, that was an unbelievable run. Look at what we won, my sweetie is good luck. Eleven throws, that’s better than great, that’s golden. Like I said, you have the Midas touch.”

“Really?” I wrapped my arms around his neck as he poured chips into my tote and I knew that I loved him no matter what.

We cashed in our chips and it was an obscene amount of money.

“They have a cool high limit lounge at the
Venetian
, how about we go over there for slots?”

“That sounds good, but let’s walk through the Forum Shops, I need to dash in to one store.”

“You bet,” he said, pulling me into a hallway and kissing my neck. “What do you want your husband to buy you? Anything you want, I’ll get it for you.”

“I want you not to touch me, please.”

He looked stricken, “Never? I’ve ruined us?”

“Not ruined us, but when you touch me it affects me, my body responds and I’m hurt this time.”

“Fuck. I’ll never do that again, buddy, I won’t hurt you like that ever.”

We stopped in front of the Agent Provocateur store and he asked, “This is where we’re going?”

“Yes, I need some new bras and panties, maybe a corset and garters.”

“I’ll wait out here.”

“No, I need your opinion; they’re really for you, after all.”

“I’ll see them when you’re…”

“All better? I think you need to come in the dressing room with me now, John.”

He looked defeated and I led him inside. A girl with a purple Mohawk, tattoos, a nose ring and a dog collar appeared and asked if she could show me anything specific.

“I need lots of very sexy under garments and I’d like to have my husband’s approval on everything.”

“No problem, we have a large dressing room with a three way mirror, I’ll set you up in there.”

I sorted through the racks, handing lace and silk confections to both the sales girl and John, until his face was bright red and the dressing room was overflowing.

“I’ll start with these. Are you ready, buddy?”

An plush upholstered chair sat at one end of the room and a raised platform in front of a three way mirror at the other. I tried on various panties and bras, all intricately made with cups that pushed the breasts up but barely covered them and panties that fit like a tiny glove cut to allow the curve of the bottom to show its perfect roundness. I stood on the platform to study the garments in the mirror, smoothing the lingerie and touching my body. I reveled in every moment that John squirmed and adjusted himself in the chair.

“I like them all, can we go now?” he asked, and his forehead was sweating.

“I haven’t gotten to the corsets and garters.”

He closed his eyes and said, “Hurry, please.”

I tried on the sexiest corset first in case he didn’t make it through to the end. It was called the ‘honesty corset’ and was sold mostly to wear under bridal gowns, the purple haired girl told us when she helped us to the dressing room.

“So the groom gets a damn nice surprise when the wedding dress comes off.”

I put on the sheer white panties first, making sure that John was watching. Next, I adjusted the garter belt and sat on the edge of the platform to smooth the white silk stockings over my calves and halfway up my thighs. I stood and fastened the tops of the stockings to the front garters then walked slowly across the room and asked if he would get the back ones for me. His hands were unsteady and it took a while.

When he finished I ran my hands over my thighs and said, “Thanks, sweetie, good job.”

I was topless and I leaned down and kissed him, touching his tongue softly with mine. His hands caressed my breasts and I winced at the sore nipples, he dropped his hands and groaned sorrowfully.

“Poor baby,” I whispered, grasping his erection through his pants, he slid down in the chair, head back and eyes closed. I stroked him until I saw a spot of moisture form, then moved my hand away and said, “Mmmm, I’d like to taste that.” He reached for his zipper and I stopped him, “Not yet, I want you to see the corset.” I went to the door and called, “Miss?”

The clerk came in as I pulled the white corset up so that the V of the panties showed, “Wow, beautiful,” she said. “Now turn and put your hands on the wall.”

I did as she said with my legs slightly apart to steady myself, “How’s this?” I asked.

“Good,” she said, smoothing the panties across my butt, John sat mesmerized, watching her touch me. “Here goes,” she said and jerked the ribbons tight from bottom to top creating a perfect hour glass. “Let’s have a look,” and she held my hand to help me onto the platform, “Turn forward, now around. It’s a great fit.”

She left the room and John was really sweating, I sat down on the platform, legs apart, the thin panties nearly transparent, “Come here, baby,” I said. He sprang to his feet, crossed the room, unzipping his pants. He pushed the top of his underwear down and sprang free, “No wonder I’m in pain, now let me taste you.” I took him in my mouth, sucking and swirling my tongue. He moved deeper, pushing against my throat and I let him until his legs began to quiver. I moved my mouth away, leaving him panting and cursing. I stood up as he placed one hand against the wall and raised the other to finish himself.

“No sweetie,” I said, taking his hand away and pulling his pants up.

He leaned his back against the wall and said, “Cate, please!”

“Let’s buy them,” I said, looking at the dozens of garments strewn across the floor, “I want them all.”

Paybacks are hell!
I thought and I couldn’t help but enjoy his discomfort. The sales girl gathered the scattered panties and bras; I added the white corset to the pile and asked if she had it in other colors. John was agitated; he thrust a large wad of bills at me and said he’d be at the
Venetian
.

“No buddy!” I pleaded, I had no intention of letting him slip into a bathroom stall and relieve his tension. “Stay with me, we’ll only be a few minutes longer.”

“Hey, man, there are beers in the fridge in the back room. Help yourself,” the girl told him.

He disappeared into the back and came back with two open beers.

The clerk showed me corsets in slightly different styles, each more provocative than the last, I added three to the pile and she went to fetch matching panties and garters.

“That’s a lot of flimsy underwear.” John said, finishing one beer and starting on the other.

I looked him in the eyes and very calmly said, “I need them, if you don’t care to see me in them, well, that’s no problem.”

I handed his money back, took the beer from him and tossed it in the trash. I could tell he was weighing his options carefully and by the time everything was wrapped and tagged to go to the hotel suite, he paid the bill with a genuine smile.

***

We cashed in the chips John had won at the
Venetian
the night before and I laughed at his bored expression as he sat in front of the slot machine pushing the button over and over.

“Come on,” I said, “it’s obvious we don’t like the same kind of gambling. Who cares? Show me what else sin city has to offer.”

We went for a gondola ride and it was kind of hokey but fun. We strolled through the wax museum and it was so bad John made them give our money back. It was dark outside as we rode the moving sidewalk down to Las Vegas Boulevard, the volcano was doing its thing across the street in front of the Mirage.

“It’s late, buddy, I should’ve had Steve get us tickets for a show, we’ll do that tomorrow night, what would you like to see?”

“Hmm, probably one of the Cirque du Soliel shows, those seem popular, maybe Elton John. And one of those shows with the naked girls, but I don’t want you to get all worked up.”

“I only get worked up over my sweetie.”

“Right, and besides you’ve probably already slept with all those girls.”

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