Past Midnight (39 page)

“I can’t have him. Unbridled passion doesn’t outrank one of Daddy’s hissy attacks. And Connor got you champagne.” Trinity clasped her hands. “Come on, Faith. Pretty please, don’t go.”

“Ladies’ room,” Faith whispered as she slipped away.

“Spoilsport,” Trinity returned, just before creasing her lips with a smile any man would die for.

Handsome men made Faith nervous. Connor Kingston did worse. For the first time, he made her wish for cosmetic surgery to turn herself into a Trinity clone.

 

 

FAITH GRIMACED. THIS WAS A HUMILIATING POSITION TO FIND herself in, sitting in a ladies’ room stall, minding her own business, while being forced to listen to mean-spirited gossip.

“Lisa is so dumpy, she deserves to have him cheat. I mean, really, she wore stripes. No one wears stripes to a formal.”

“Not only that,” the other girl joined in, “they were going the wrong way. Everyone knows stripes make you look fatter when they’re horizontal instead of vertical. What possessed her?”

Poor Lisa. Faith commiserated though she was secretly thankful she wasn’t the subject of the nasty gossip. She’d chosen a basic black cocktail dress for the evening.

One of them sighed without an ounce of sympathy for the hapless Lisa. “Well, he got exactly what he wanted. A frumpy little heiress and all the afternoon delight he can handle.”

Faith couldn’t remember the husband’s name, only that he was one of the have-nots before he married Lisa.
Afternoon delight.
What a lovely term for adultery. Poor Lisa.

“Do tell. Who’s he doing the do with?”

“Kitchum’s wife.”

Gasp.
“That slut. She’s twenty years older than him.”

“She just had her face done and looks younger than Lisa.”

“Well, that’s what old man Kitchum gets for marrying a gold digger half his age.”

They laughed in unison, then, thank God, their voices faded as the ladies’ room door snicked closed behind them.

Faith was now blessedly alone. Which was worse? The cheating, or the humiliation of having it discussed in the restroom? Maybe she was in danger of lumping all those in her own social circle into one neat plastic baggie, but gossip did seem to be a favorite pastime amongst them.

What on earth was she doing attending one gala after another? Searching for Mr. Right? That’s what her father hoped for her, bless his heart, though he did seem to find something lacking in the few prospects Faith had brought home.

To tell the truth, she didn’t need Mr. Right. She only needed children. Her heart ached she wanted them so badly. Yet she grew up without a mother, and she firmly believed kids needed both parents. So, being good potential father material was the only requirement on her list. Amongst her peers, she had serious doubts of finding a man who fit the bill.

Slipping out of the now empty ladies’ room, Faith headed into the club’s gardens for a respite from the activity. Blooms perfumed the spring night, the garden resplendent with camellias and azaleas, and the crescent moon reflected off the still waters of the man-made lake in the center of the club grounds.

She wandered down the incline through the trees and bushes, and she would have made it to the water’s edge if she hadn’t suddenly heard a voice on the other side of the hedge.

“Suck it, please, honey. I’m dying here.”

Dear Lord, with another few steps, she would have passed the hedge and stumbled right on top of the couple. Faith knew she should find another route to the lake, but something, a devil on her shoulder perhaps, kept her rooted to the spot.

The woman didn’t say a word. There was only the rasp of a zipper on the night breeze.

Faith, that devil whispering in her ear, peeked around the end of the hedge. Seated on a stone bench, the woman had a firm grip on her partner’s penis, slowly pumping him as his head fell back in total ecstasy.

“Christ, yes. Suck it, sweetheart.”

“Don’t rush me.” The voice was soft with seduction, husky with desire, sultry with power.

The couple cavorted in the shelter of the overhanging trees, and Faith couldn’t make out faces. Somehow, their very anonymity fueled her own fantasies.

“Please,” he begged.

Faith’s nipples beaded against the soft fabric of her dress, and a throb started low in her belly, streaking down between her legs. In an instant, she was damp.

Oh yes, she could almost feel her own hand wrapped around his erection, hard flesh begging her to caress the tip, to suck the tiny drop of come.

She wasn’t a virgin. She’d had moments when she’d almost believed she was desirable. Those moments hadn’t become anything lasting, and the few men she’d been with had gotten bored quickly. Or they were after her money. Just as her father said.

This, however, was the stuff of her sexually explicit fantasies, where she could have everything done to her and do everything in return. Where she asked for what she wanted without fear of rejection and indulged in all the erotic, sensual acts she’d never done but wanted desperately to experience.

The woman bent her head. Faith could almost taste him, feel him between her lips. Without conscious thought, her hand lifted to her breast, her palm fondling one tight nipple as she watched. Watching was naughty but so incredibly sexy.

Then the woman took his penis all the way, her mouth fusing to him, his fingers tangling in her hair. Whispers, groans, sounds all around her, making Faith almost a participant in what they were doing. Her hand slid down the front of her dress, over her abdomen until her fingers lightly pressed her mound.

She should have walked away. But her feet wouldn’t move. Nothing on heaven and earth could make her stop watching.

CONNOR FOLLOWED FAITH CASTLE INTO THE MOONLIT GARDENS, giving her plenty of lead to disguise the fact he was tailing her. When he caught up, the meeting would appear accidental.

Over the past few weeks, as he’d dutifully squired her around town, Trinity Green told him everything there was to know about Faith. She was almost thirty, a schoolteacher, and she loved children beyond anything. She also happened to be the heiress to Castle Heavy Mining. According to the Trinity gospel, Faith was a paragon. Could there actually be such a thing? Trinity had extolled her virtues as if she were putting the woman on the auctioning block. The question was why. What was the benefit in touting Faith?

Whatever her reasons, Trinity had told him everything important about Faith. Or so he thought. She hadn’t mentioned Faith’s abundant body. Far from a model-thin beauty queen, Faith was round and curvy. A man could hold Faith in his arms and not worry about breaking her. Her breasts were a bounty. Her derriere begged for a man’s caress. Her hair, cascading past her shoulders, was the color of an exploding sun, all reds and golds.

Faith lacked the classic aristocratic features revered in today’s world. Her face was round, her nose a tad snub, and her mouth small, but beauty was so much more than bone structure. It was the whole package, inside and out. Trinity had given him a hint of Faith’s soft center, but her full impact hit him when she laughed. From across the dance floor, the throaty sound shot straight to his cock. That’s when he started imagining her on her knees taking him into her mouth, when he’d envisioned sinking his fingers into her hair and holding her to him as he came.

Yes, Faith Castle was a pleasant surprise. A lush creature begging for him to plumb the depths others casually dismissed. He hadn’t imagined that seducing her would be so pleasurable.

Ahead of him, she stopped at a hedge, leaning forward slightly to peer around it.

Connor stole closer. Hushed voices reached him, then indistinguishable sounds. Faith seemed rooted to the spot like a statue hewn in place. She didn’t hear him as he circled, coming up on her left. The fingers of her right hand found purchase in the hedge branches, as if to steady herself.

Then he saw what so fascinated her.

Well, well, well, Faith Castle was indeed a bundle of contrasts. Knee-length cocktail dress, well-hidden cleavage, moderate heels on her shoes. One thought prim and proper.

But there she was, standing in the flower-scented garden watching a woman go down on her lover. A breath whispered from Faith’s lips as the man drove his cock deep. Her hand left the hedge and skated down the front of her dress, brushing her abdomen, then pressed between her legs.

The sight sucked Connor’s breath from his lungs, and his cock surged. Her breasts crested against her dress. Diamond-tipped nipples begged for his mouth. That luscious body was meant for loving, and if Trinity was to be believed, Faith hadn’t seen much of that lately. Fucking idiots, the men who passed her over because of a mere body-type fad. She wanted passion. Hell yes, she wanted it badly.

He wanted to give it to her. He’d stumbled onto the perfect supplement to his plan, the ideal stratagem to draw her in.

He hadn’t imagined securing his future could be this sweet.

 

 

IN HER FANTASIES, FAITH FELT AN ARM WRAP AROUND HER WAIST, pulling her against hard male thighs and a raging erection. Warm, enticing breath bathed her hair.

“You like watching, don’t you?”

“Yes,” she murmured.

Her own voice snapped her out of her reverie. Her body stiffened in his embrace. The touch was tangible, his words real, her orgasm on the horizon.

“Let me watch with you.”

Smooth and sultry, his pitch seduced her as easily as the tableau in front of them. All she had to do was permit his caress, his nearness. She didn’t have to act, simply allow him to do as he would. It was so effortless. He pulled her closer, rubbing his body sinuously against her back, bottom, and thighs.

His hand slipped down her abdomen and covered her own. He moved his fingers over hers, rotating gently, caressing her.

“He’s going to blow in her mouth,” he murmured.

Faith’s breath rasped in her throat. She was dizzy and drunk on sex, on the kinkiness of watching, of letting some stranger take liberties with her body.

Under the trees in front of them, the man groaned louder, his hips pumping frantically. He held his partner’s head, taking her mouth with his body rather than the other way around. He clenched, held, then cried out.

Lips dropped to Faith’s neck, bit gently. Fingers rolled her nipple, pinched. Between her legs, he guided her hand rhythmically back and forth across her covered pussy.

She almost came when he pressed up and in, hard. Ripples of pleasure shot out from her clitoris. She bit her lip, closed her eyes, and savored the sensation.

Then he yanked her back into hiding on the other side of the hedge just as the male half of the tableau before them spoke.

“Jesus, that was good.”

The woman’s answer was smug, as was her voice. “I know.”

“Let me fuck you.”

“You’ll get my dress dirty. Tomorrow. Doesn’t your wife have tennis lessons or something? Meet me at the usual place.”

Behind the hedge, Faith’s mystery man held her close in the circle of his arms.

“Shh,” he whispered.

As if he knew she was about to twist away and say . . . something. Such as,
How dare you?

There was the rustle of clothing and what sounded like a belt buckle, then the man’s voice again. “You’re such a fucking tease.”

“You love it. And Lisa doesn’t swallow.”

“And Kitchum wouldn’t be able to fill your mouth with that much come. Don’t tell me you don’t love it.”

God. It was old man Kitchum’s wife with the face-lift and Lisa’s had-none-of-his-own husband.

And just who was the man holding her?

“Thank you,” he whispered, “for letting me join you.”

She knew his voice then, the seductive, rough tones she’d first heard not a half hour ago.

Connor Kingston. Trinity’s new dish.

She struggled a little in his arms as the lovers drifted off in the opposite direction. They’d part soon and head back to the ballroom. To Lisa with her horizontal stripes, and Kitchum, well, who knew if he was even here? Faith hadn’t seen him.

“Let me go.”

He shook his head as he once again dropped his lips to her neck. Did he even realize who she was? Or had he merely been turned on by the sight of a woman watching a sex scene played out in the moonlight?

Then he stroked her chin and turned her face to his. For a fraction of a second, his eyes locked with hers. No surprise, no horror. He had known exactly who he was touching. Faith almost drowned in his glittering gaze a moment before he took her lips with his. He tasted of the evening’s champagne and something else—hot, hungry male. Greedy, ravenous, his tongue swooped in and stole her breath.

With a kiss like that, he could make a woman do anything.

His touch, then his kiss had her so hot, restless, and bothered, she had to battle her own needs far more than she had to fight him. She tried to wriggle away. “I have to go.”