The Wicked and the Wondrous (35 page)

She nearly screamed, drowning in the sensation of pure pleasure. His tongue caressed, probed deep, stabbed into hot folds, swirled and teased and sucked at her until she was mindlessly sobbing his name, writhing beneath him, her hips thrusting helplessly for the relief only he could bring her. He took her up the path several times, pushing higher each time so that her body shuddered and rippled with pleasure over and over. Until he knew she was hot and slick and needed him enough to accept him buried deep within her body.

Dillon knelt between her legs, and watched his body probe desperately for the slick entrance to hers. He wanted to see them come together, in a miracle of passion. His engorged head pushed into her. At once he felt her sheath, tight and hot, grip him, close around him. The sensation shook him so that he had to hang on to his control. “Jess.” Her name burst from between his teeth. He slid in another inch, pushing his way through the tight folds. If it was possible, she grew even hotter. His hands tightened on her hips. “Tell me you’re okay, baby.”

“Yes, more,” she gasped. He was invading her body, a thick, hard fullness, stretching her immeasurably, but at the same time, the craving for him grew and grew.

His hands tightened and he surged forward, past her barrier, and buried himself deeper. Sweat broke out on his forehead. He had never felt such a sensation of pure ecstasy. It was difficult to keep from plunging his body madly into hers. “Tell me what it feels like.” He bit the words out huskily, and lowered his head to flick his tongue over her taut nipple. The action tightened her body even more around his.

“It’s everything, Dillon. You’re big and you’re stretching me so it burns a little, but at the same time, I want more, I want all of you deep inside me,” she answered honestly. “More than anything, that’s what I want right now.”

“Me, too,” he admitted and surged forward. The sensation shook him. Her muscles were slick and hot and velvet soft, so tight he could barely stand it. He buried himself deep, withdrew, and thrust hard again. He watched her face carefully for signs of discomfort, but her body was flushed, her eyes glazed, her breath coming in little needy pants.

Satisfied that she was feeling the same pleasure he was feeling, Dillon began to move in a gentle rhythm. Long and slow, gliding in and out of her, stretching, pushing deeper with each stroke. He tilted her hips, held her body so he could thrust even deeper, wanting her to accept every last inch of him, almost as if her body could accept his, she would see who he really was and love him anyway. He buried himself to the hilt, sliding so deep he felt her womb, felt her contractions beginning, a spiraling that began to increase in strength. “Jess, I’ve never felt like this. Never.” He wanted her to know what she meant, how much a part of him she was.

His rhythm became faster, harder, his hips surging forward into her, his body beyond any pretense of control. Jessica cried out softly as her body fragmented, as the room rocked and the earth simply melted away. Dillon could feel how strong her muscles were, milking him, gripping him in the strength of her orgasm, taking him with her right over the edge. He pumped into her frantically, helplessly, unable to control the wildness in him, the explosion ripping through his body from his toes up to the top of his head.

Dillon didn’t have enough energy to roll over, so he lay on top of her, his body still locked to hers. His heart was beating hard. He buried his face against her breast, tears burning at the back of his eyes and throat. He had never been so emotional in the old days. He had never felt like this, sated and at peace. He had never thought it possible.

Jessica wrapped her arms around Dillon, holding him close, feeling the emotions swirling so deeply in him. She knew he was struggling. Part of him wanted to remain a recluse, hidden from the past and the future, and part of him desperately wanted what she was holding out to him. It was all tied up in his music. In his perception that he had failed everyone he loved. He wanted her to love him as he saw himself, a man without anything to offer. She didn’t see him that way and never could. She could only offer him what she had, her honesty, her belief in him, her trust.

She felt his tongue flick her nipple, a lazy back and forth swirl that sent shock waves through her body. Her muscles rippled with the aftershock and gripped his. He exhaled, his breath warm against her skin.

“Tell me I didn’t hurt you, Jess,” he asked. He lifted himself up to his elbows, his hands framing her face.

“Dillon! I was practically yelling your name shamelessly for the entire household to hear.” She smiled as he leaned down to kiss her. The touch of his mouth sent a series of shocks through her body so that she once more rippled with pleasure. “I think I’m hypersensitive to you,” she admitted.

His eyebrow shot up. “That appeals to me on a purely primitive level,” he said as he buried his face in the valley between her breasts. “I love how you smell, especially now after we’ve made love.” His mouth nuzzled her skin, his tongue teasing along her ribs. He allowed his sated body to slide away from hers, but his hand slipped along the path of her belly to rest in her triangle of curls. “I want to just explore every inch of you for the rest of the night. I want to know you, what brings you pleasure, what gets you hot fast and what takes a little longer. Mostly, I just want to be with you.” His silky hair played over her aching breasts as he lifted his head high enough to look at her. “Do you mind?”

There was a curious vulnerability about him. Jessica stretched languidly beneath him, offering up her body to him. “I want to be with you, too.”

She lay listening to the rain on the roof while his hands skimmed her body, framed every curve, touched every inch of her with tenderness. She felt as if she were drifting in a sea of pure pleasure. He made love to her a second time, a slow, leisurely joining that stole her heart along with her breath.

Jessica realized she must have fallen asleep a while ago when she woke to feel Dillon’s hands gliding over her once again. She lay in the dark, smiling as he brought her body to life. His hands and mouth were skillful, teasing, tempting. He shifted to pull her closer to him, his knowledge of her body growing with every exploration.

His tongue was busy at her nipple, his mouth hot with passion and Jessica closed her eyes, willing to give herself up to the incredible sensation. Her hands in his hair, she tried to relax, tried to ignore the shiver of awareness moving down her spine. She felt eyes on them. Watching them. Watching Dillon suckling at her breast, his fingers delving deeply into her wet core. Her eyes flew open and she looked wildly around the room, trying to see into every shadow.

Dillon felt her sudden resistance. “What is it, baby?” he asked, his mouth still busy between words. “Have I made you sore?”

“Someone is outside the door, Dillon,” Jessica whispered against his ear, “listening to us.” It was difficult to think when his mouth was pulling so strongly at her breast, sending white-hot streaks of lightning dancing through her bloodstream. When he pushed two fingers deep and stroked her with such expertise.

Dillon’s body was hard and hot and wanting hers. His tongue flicked over the tight bud of her nipple, did a long, slow lazy swirl. He lifted his head away from the lush pleasures of her body when she tugged at his hair. His blue eyes burned over her face hungrily. “I didn’t hear anything.”

“I’m not kidding, Dillon,” Jessica insisted, “someone is listening to us, or watching us. I can feel them.” She stiffened, pushing at him, looking toward the glass balcony half expecting to see a hooded figure standing there.

Sighing with regret, Dillon left the pleasures of her body and looked around for his jeans. She had already slipped into his robe, cinching it around her slender body. Her face was pale and her red-gold hair spilled around her like a waterfall of silk. He didn’t understand her. She was always a miracle of good sense, but when it came to certain things, she lost every bit of it, she was so positive that forces were conspiring to harm those she loved. He couldn’t really blame her for worrying. Dillon stalked to the door and jerked it open wide to show her no one was there.

His heart nearly stopped when he came face-to-face with his bass player. They stood so close their noses were nearly touching.

Don stared for a moment at Dillon’s exposed chest, then glanced past him to see Jessica huddled in Dillon’s robe. Dillon stepped instantly to block Don’s view of her. “What the hell are you doing, Don?” Dillon snapped, angrily.

Don flushed, glanced past him to Jessica’s pale face, and half turned to leave. “Forget it, I didn’t realize you were busy. I saw the light and knew you were up.”

Dillon swallowed his annoyance. Don never sought him out. It was a rare chance to clear the air between them, even if it was untimely. “No, don’t go, it must have been something important that brought you here this late.” He raked a hand through his thick black hair, tossed Jessica a pleading smile. She responded exactly the way he knew she would, nodding slightly and drawing his robe more closely around her. “Hell, it must be close to five in the morning.” He stepped back and gestured for Don to enter. “Whatever it is, let’s deal with it.” Don looked rumpled and Dillon smelled alcohol on his breath.

Don took a deep breath, stepped inside. “I’m sorry Jessie.” His gaze found her, then slid away. “I didn’t know you were here.”

She shrugged. It was far too late to hide anything that had been going on. The bed was rumpled, the pillows on the floor. Her hair was disheveled and she wore nothing under Dillon’s robe. “Would you like me to leave?” She asked it politely. Don seemed terribly nervous, his apprehension adding to her own discomfort. Her stomach rolled ominously, a wave of nausea swamping her for a moment.

“I don’t know if I have the courage to say to Dillon what I need to say, let alone in front of anyone, but on the other hand, you’re always a calming influence.” He paced across the room several times while they waited.

“Have you been drinking?” Dillon asked, curious. “I’ve never seen you drink, Don, not more than one beer.”

“I thought it would give me courage.” Don gave him a half hearted humorless grin. “You need to call the police and have me arrested.” The words tumbled out fast, in a single rushed breath. The moment he said them, he looked for a place to collapse.

Dillon led him to one of the two chairs positioned on either side of a small reading table. “Would you like a glass of water?”

Jessica had already hurried to get a glass from the large master bathroom. “Here, Don, drink this.”

He took the glass, gulped the water down, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and looked up at Dillon. “I swear to God I thought you knew about Vivian and me. All this time I thought you were waiting for a chance to get rid of me and replace me with Paul. I kept waiting for it to happen. I tried so hard never to give you a reason.”

“Before anything else, Don, I’m a musician. I love Paul. He’s my best friend. We’ve stood together through the best and worst of times, but he doesn’t have your talent. I
wanted
you in the band. From the first time I heard you play, I knew you were right. Paul doesn’t have your versatility. He helped start the band, and I had no intention of leaving him along the wayside, but once you signed on with us, you were as much a part of the band as I was.” Dillon shook his head regretfully. “I’m sorry you thought differently, that I never told you how valuable you were to me.”

“Great. I didn’t need to hear you say that.” Don heaved a sigh. “This isn’t easy, Dillon. I don’t deserve you to be civil to me.”

“I’ll admit I was shocked and upset about you and Vivian,” Dillon said. He reached for Jessica, unable to help himself, needing to touch her. Needing her real and solid beside him. At once she was there, her small body fitting beneath his shoulder, her arm slipping around his waist. “It was a rotten thing to do, Don, but it hardly warrants calling the police.”

“I tried to blackmail you.” Don didn’t look at either of them as he made the confession. He stared down at his hands, a lost expression on his face. “I saw you go into the forest that night. We all heard the yelling upstairs, and the pounding. We figured you caught Viv with one of her lovers. No one wanted to embarrass you so they all went to the studio to be out of the way, but I went to the kitchen for something to drink and I saw you go out. You had tears on your face and you were so shaken, I followed you, thinking I could offer to help. But you were more distraught than anyone I’d ever seen before and I figured, since it involved Vivian, you wouldn’t want to talk to me. I walked around, undecided, and then just when I was going back, I saw you go in through the kitchen. Rita was in there and I heard you talking, telling her what happened. You were so angry, you were wrecking the place. I didn’t dare approach you or Rita. I saw you start up the stairs and I headed for the studio. Then I heard the shots.” As proof of his crime he pulled a plain sheet of paper from his pocket. Words cut from the headline of a newspaper were pasted on it. “This was one I was going to send you.”

“Why didn’t you testify to that at the trial?” Dillon’s voice was very low, impossible to read. He snatched the paper from Don’s hand and crumpled it without glancing at it.

“Because I was already on the basement staircase, looking out through the glass doors, and I saw you when the shots were fired. I knew you didn’t do it. You had gone back outside a second time and you were heading toward the forest.”

“Yet you decided blackmail was a good alternative?”

“I don’t know why. I don’t know why I did any of the things I’ve done since then,” Don admitted. “All I cared about was the band. I wanted it back. You sat up here in this house with Paul, no one else could get near you. You had all that talent just going to waste, a musical genius, and you locked yourself up with Paul as the warden. He never wanted me anywhere near the place. I had this stupid idea that if you had to pay out a lot of money, you’d have go back to work and we’d all be back on the ride.”