The Red-Hot Cajun (22 page)

The town house’s biggest drawback now was that it was in the middle of the capital city—an asset when he worked as a lobbyist. But it was not near the bayous he loved. That would change now.

“Are you hungry?” he asked. “I bought Chinese.”

“Chinese for a Cajun? Isn’t that a sacrilege or something?”

He grinned. “It probably has okra or crawfish in it somewhere. You can’t totally get away from Cajun anywhere in Southern Loo-zee-anna.”

“I am hungry,” she said, “but let’s wait. I’m still too excited to eat.”

Rene about swallowed his tongue at that casually dropped bombshell.
She is still excited. Thank you,
God!

God has nothing to do with it,
the voice in his head said, “Do you have any wine?”

“I do. And it’s chilled, too.”

They both sipped at the chilled sauvignon. Then Rene walked over to the stereo and flipped a switch.

A soft Cajun instrumental came on. “Will you take off your shirt?” he asked abruptly as he turned back to her. She stood framed in the kitchen archway.

Her eyes went wide with surprise.

“I want to see you.” When she didn’t immediately do as he asked, probably due to shyness, he set his glass down and pulled his own shirt over his head, dropping it to the floor. “You can see mine first.”

She gave a short hoot of a laugh. Like the trade would be anywhere equal. But she did put her drink on the kitchen table, then tugged the hem of her shirt out of the skirt. Ever so slowly, like a born temptress, she drew it over her head.

He studied her for a moment. “Man oh man, I didn’t think anything could be better than your heart-shaped ass. I was wrong, your champagne breasts are a tie, at least.”
Valerie Breaux is a hottie.

Whooee!

“Heart-shaped. . . ?” she started to sputter, then smiled. “Champagne and hearts, huh? I like that.”

“Not nearly as much as I do, darlin’.”
What a lucky guy I am!

“What now?” she asked with a flushed face as he continued to stare at her. “I’m kind of rusty at this.

Actually, I never was very good.”

“Don’t underestimate yourself, baby. You’re good, all right.” He held his arms out for her. “Let’s dance.”

He could tell his request surprised her.
Always best to keep the ladies guessing.
She’d probably thought he was going to skip all the foreplay and just jump her bones again.
Hah! I am getting my
smoothness back by leaps and bounds.

Flicking off her sandals, she came toward him, wearing only her gauzy skirt. Fair exchange. He only had sweats on and no shoes, as well. He took her in his arms and danced. He loved to dance. He especially loved dancing with Val with her breasts nestled in his chest hairs. He shifted himself from side to side several times to abrade her nipples to hard peaks. Her small gasp of pleasure was his reward.

He moved expertly to the rhythm, and Val followed him perfectly. They were a good match.

He ran the flats of his hands down her bare back. She did the same to him, then daringly slid her hands inside his pants and cupped his buttocks.

He about lost it then. It took all his self-control to set her away from him, still devouring her with his eyes. Her breasts were pink-tipped and hard as pebbles. He touched them with his fingertips, and she inhaled sharply with pleasure, then arched her back slightly so he would touch her more. But, no, he had other things in mind. Undoing the waistband of her skirt, he let it slide to the floor in a frothy puddle. This was his first full-fledged look at her body, and she was beautiful. All white pearly skin that curved in all the right places. No fashionably skinny frame like other women yearned to have. More the softness that most men preferred.

Lifting her by the waist, he sat her on the back of his couch, her feet on the seat. Since it was freestanding, not against a wall, she had to hold on with her hands to avoid falling backward. “Open for me, babe,” he urged.

Her face flooded with color and she started to balk. “I don’t like this, Rene.”

“For me,
chère.
Do it for me. I want to know all of you.”

Slowly, she parted her legs, but not very far.

He arched his brows at her. “Surely you’re not afraid. I didn’t think you were afraid of anything. Not snakes, or smarmy producers, or wiley Cajuns.”

At that challenge, she raised her chin high and parted her knees wide. She was fully and completely exposed to him.

He shimmied out of his pants, the whole time looking at her there. Then he glanced down at the erection he was sporting, then back to her face. “This is what you do to me. This is how much I enjoy looking at you.” He touched himself briefly, running a loose fist from his balls to his tip, and became even bigger. She gasped with shock at his gesture. “Men like to watch women touching themselves. Do you enjoy watching me?” he asked.

Her face got even redder. “I don’t know. It’s new to me. Maybe.”

He fisted himself again, but only briefly. He didn’t want to come this way.
“This
is a reflection of how attractive you are to me. That’s all I’m trying to show you.”

“Let’s make love then. No more of me on display.”

“We will make love, darlin’. More than once. But first, we do it my way. Okay?”
Please, please,
please.

She hesitated, but then she nodded.

Ithink I’ll say a novena of thank s tomorrow. . . or next week .. .or I’ll ask Tante Lulu to say one
for me. No, I can’t do that. She would ask me what I’m thankful for.

He knelt on the floor in front of the couch and used the fingertips of both hands to part her folds more.

Her nether lips were pink and slick with moisture.

“You are beautiful there. Did you know that?”

She shook her head slightly, which was charming, really.

“I’m going to taste you now. Hold on tight.” He leaned forward and ran the tip of his tongue up one side and down the other.

She shivered and made a small whimpering sound.

He repeated the same journey several more times with his tongue and his fingertips, sometimes alternating with fluttery vibrations. But always he avoided the one place he knew she wanted to be touched.

Finally, he tongued her there, light butterfly sweeps at first, then fast, fast, fast. She was keening continuously then.

But he had more in store for her. Much more.

Inserting a long middle finger inside of her, he massaged her inside and used a rhythmic pumping of the heel of his hand on the outside so he was coming at her from both sides.

She screamed, she actually screamed as wave after wave of convulsions shook her. It was the most erotic thing he’d ever heard.

She wilted then and would have collapsed backward, except he caught her in his arms, and in one deft move, he was lying on his back lengthwise on the couch with her on top of him.

“Are you ready to make love now, darlin’?” he inquired.

She started to laugh with incredulity at his question. But she soon stopped laughing when he raised her up so she was sitting on him, her legs folded on either side of his hips. He arched his body upward, and within seconds, she was impaled on him.

At first, she just blinked at him, too shocked at the position she was in. But then, he felt her inner folds accommodated his width and length. And she smiled.

Smiling is good. Smiling means I’m doing something right.

“That’s nice,” she said.

“Nice?” he exclaimed. “Nice is a sweet kiss on the cheek. Nice is a grandma word for good girls. Nice is a sweet praline. This is definitely not nice. This is spectacular.” And it was. He’d never felt this virile before in his life. Maybe he was so good because she was so good.

“Rene?”

“Hmmmm?” He was trying to focus his attention on non-relevant things to delay his orgasm. After all this effort, he didn’t want to come too soon.
Tante Lulu doing a belly dance. Me catching a five-pound
catfish. The time I helped a lady have a baby in the back of her station wagon. Ok ra.

“I don’t think I can do this again.”

“Huh?”
Oh, no, no, no. You are not going to pull a “This was a mistake “ on me now. No, no,
no.
“Am I hurting you?”

“No, you’re not hurting me,” she said, grinding her hips around
it
in a circular fashion to demonstrate.

It
felt that little bit of friction like manna from heaven, and Rene closed his eyes for a second, just in case they’d crossed.

“I just meant that I don’t think I can come again so soon. And I don’t think I have the energy—”

Oh. Is that all?
“I’m gonna give you energy all right. And I promise you, baby, you
can
come again.”

She laughed, whether in disbelief or in reaction to the vehemence of his response, he didn’t know... or care.

Valerie was in fact laughing out of sheer joy. She had never felt such freedom before. No inhibitions.

No worries about how she looked or whether her actions were normal. Rene made her feel as if anything she did would give him pleasure. She loved him for that.
In fact, I could love this man.
For a moment, Valerie froze. She had no idea where that mind blip had come from. Probably she was having a delayed reaction to having thrown her career away, at least the career she had thought she always wanted. But there were surprisingly no regrets. And in the midst of all these liberating feelings was this man. Later, she might think he was a pig, but for now he was gorgeous and thoughtful and playful... and oh my gracious what was that he was doing now?
Ay yi yi!

Most men by now would have done the in-and-out dance a few times and the program would be over.

Not Rene, bless his heart. Nope, he was half sitting up, taking her left breast in his hand, raising it upward with the nipple pointing outward, and then... and THEN... he took the whole breast into his hot, wet mouth. He stopped briefly and asked way too sweetly, “Do you like that, darlin’ ?” Without waiting for an answer, he resumed his delicious torture.

“Yikes!” she yelled.

To which he smiled against her breast.

Intense sensations ricocheted throughout her body from the nipple he was assaulting with his flicking tongue and nipping teeth. She would have jumped right off of him, but his other hand was behind her nape, holding her in place.

She heard him chuckle before switching hands and breasts.
Hah! I’ll show him.
Focusing her attention to that place where they were joined, she clenched and unclenched her inner muscles a half dozen times in quick succession.

“Aaaaahhh!!” he hollered, falling backward and raising his hips and her right up off the couch.

“Do you like that, darlin’?” she repeated his question, just as sweetly.

“Witch!” he said, swatting her on the behind when he was able to catch his breath. “I take it you have your energy back.”

“In spades. They oughta bottle you, like one of those adrenaline rush drinks.”

He smiled. “Who moves first?”

She wanted to say something smart and witty and teasing but couldn’t think of a thing. “I’m really not very good at this.”

“You could have fooled me. Just do what feels good to you. Believe me, I am not particular.”

She leaned forward, bracing her hands on either side of his head and lifted her butt slowly, higher and higher, to the tippy top, then sank just as slowly back down again. The fact that he closed his eyes and made a sort of whoofing sound with his mouth told her she’d probably done it right. So, she repeated herself. And it felt so good that she closed her eyes and made the same whoofing sound, like a woman in labor, except this was labor of the best sort. When she did it a third time, Rene jack-knifed up, flipping her on her back at the other end of the couch. Now he was on top.

“Enough sweet torture,” he choked out, then began to assault her body with long hard strokes that stoked the heat inside her. She wanted to reach up and kiss him or caress his body, but she needed to concentrate on her center where all the action was taking place. “Come,
chère,
come. Come. Come,” he kept urging her. “I can’t come till you do.”

“Why not?” she asked.

“Hush!” he gasped out with a laugh. She supposed this was not the time for conversation as he continued to pound into her. “Just frickin’ come!” he begged.

And she did.

And he did.

And both their worlds rocked.

CHAPTHER THIRTEEN