“It’s so smooth, like…like cotton. I feel like it’s caressing me the way classical music caresses. Chopin, Schumann, Tchaikovsky.”
“I am caressing you. Classical?” It was a style he’d mostly avoided. He had to admit, the slow sensuous movements were as caressing as music. Like the piano music that he’d heard at the mansion.
“Go slower. I like watching,” she said, shifting on the counter. “More. Give me a little bit more.”
He sank into her another inch, retreated more the next withdrawal, ever so leisurely when on the verge of a cataclysmic eruption. He didn’t know how he could continue at this pace. The veins in his cock had expanded. Blood pumped madly, matching the beat of his heart. Fast. Pounding. Nowhere near classical standards, more like heavy metal.
She ran her finger down his wet length as he withdrew, then wiggled forward, balanced on the counter’s edge. “More.”
Shifting her legs over his arms, he pushed deeper, slightly harder. He touched the tip of her tiny protrusion with his fingertips, pressed down, making solid contact with Duke as he left her cocoon in measured degrees. The ragged hiss was his own.
A trickle of her sweet-tasting nectar followed, dribbled to the countertop, wasted when he should have lapped it up with his tongue. He withdrew and started down to his knees before Duke went on a plundering rampage.
“No! Don’t take it away.”
Okay. No problem. Bending his knees slightly, penetrating again, he shoved in an up angle, his fingers pressing firmly down on her clit.
She looked up, straight into his eyes. There was something there in those sparkling gray depths, something different when the pupils spread like water. Then he recognized the intensity in her storm gray eyes. G-spot. A second later, the first snap stunned Duke with such violence he nearly came.
“I w-want,” she stuttered. Her voice caught on a sob. “All of it. Now. Now!”
On that welcome demand, he surged forward. Impact dragged out a scream. Donnie let loose of her legs and wrapped his arms around her body. “I’m sorry. Sorry.” Embedded, he could hardly stand still, wanting to drive home again.
She wrapped all of her limbs around him. Challie lifted on a sleek rise and he forced her hips down, over and over again. The movements escalated to a wicked frenzy, taking them to the next unruly level.
He fought against the blur clouding his vision. Without warning, she clamped around him. Donnie detonated on a mighty roar, drowning out her strangled scream. He kissed her, drank deeply as his world turned upside down and went sideways.
Blinded by the climax’s ferocity, legs weak and swaying, he grabbed the counter to stabilize them, balancing Challie with one arm, and continued pounding with pillaging strokes. Until his thrusts slowed to a gentle rocking motion, until Duke lost his ravaging zeal.
Burying his face against her neck, moaning, he dropped tender kisses on her shoulder up to her ear.
As the tremors wore off, their breaths coming in shallow pants, Donnie deposited Challie on the counter, trying to remember if and when he’d climaxed like this before. She’d damn near sucked the life from his body.
Blinking several times, clearing his mind, he remembered one important fact.
Coed pool.
What if she got pregnant? He’d be stuck with a wife and a kid. He was too young for a family of his own, too wild for one. Families needed devotion, too much time, when he liked his foot-loose and fancy freedoms. Dedication belonged to other men. Not Donnie.
Unwrapping Challie, he eased out of her warmth. Dynamite snatch, one he’d love to dive into a second time when Duke was capable of getting another rise. In a few minutes. With a condom. Never this again without one. Risky business otherwise.
Leaning back, Donnie asked, “Are you protected?” He flinched at his brusque tone.
“From what?”
Ah, shit. “Pregnancy.”
She blinked rapidly. “Protected how?”
Ah, fuck. “Why the hell are you screwing when you’re not on the pill or wearing a diaphragm? Something to keep from having babies!”
“You’re the one who started this screwing. Why didn’t you use protection? I’d be cleaning if it hadn’t been for you.” She wore indignant well and slapped at his chest. “My clothes wouldn’t be ripped apart, either.” She jumped down from the counter, groaning, tattered shorts hanging like a raggedy skirt.
Donnie tucked away a wasted Duke. He zipped his pants and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. “What’s the matter?”
“Nothing.”
“Yes, there is. What’s wrong?”
“I said nothing.” Taking a step, she cringed, noisily sucking in the next breath.
Hell, he’d done it now. She’d fucked his brains out. Now she couldn’t walk. He scooped her into his arms.
“Put me down, you big jerk.”
He started for her bedroom. Changing his mind, he took her to his room. The bed was bigger and closer to the bathroom. Donnie set her down gently. “Warm water will help. I’ll fill the tub.”
“I don’t need you to draw my bath water,” she snapped. “I don’t need you.” She crawled off the opposite side of the bed and hobbled across the room.
“Challie, come back here.”
Instead, she slammed his door, then the one to the bathroom.
Women.
4
“Draw me a bath,” Challie grumbled. “I can draw my own bath, thank you very much.”
She did hurt. Warm water soothed the soreness. What in the world had provoked her to do such a thing? She was no better than Mrs. Tedesco’s friend whose giggles, moans and groans had filtered into the guest room Challie had been cleaning. In the pool house! When she’d gotten enough gumption to leave, really trying to sneak out, Fontana was kissing the woman, his eyes wide open, staring at Challie. She’d had a hard time looking away, drawn to the intensity of his gaze. He was the type to enjoy two women at once. Three, probably. A harem. The shameless devil. As she’d hurried to the door, she’d felt his penetrating gaze piercing her back. Unnerved, she’d sprinted to the mansion.
Hattie had called loose women “tramps.” So now, she was loose too, Challie decided. Twice. One black, one white. Well, no more. This was it. This “screwing” was a mistake. Both times.
She leaned back in the tub, rested her head on the rim, checking her surroundings. The faucet and mirror shined. The floor was beige rather than dirt brown. Tile around the tub sparkled. Fontana had done an excellent job cleaning.
Fontana. She didn’t know the man’s first name. Lord. She was a tramp. He’d go back to Arizona, bragging how he’d laid the maid working at the Tedesco mansion. If Hattie heard, she’d have a heart attack. If Mrs. Tedesco caught wind of it, Challie figured she’d lose her job.
She slid down into the tub until the bubbles reached her chin. What was she going to do now? No job. No money. No life. Sent back home. And the thought made her want to throw up.
Donnie finished what Challie had started. Even mopped the floor. It was the least he could do.
If he weren’t so damn big, she wouldn’t be sore right now. If she hadn’t demanded all of him, she wouldn’t need to soak in the