Make Me Scream (11 page)

“Then I guarantee your boyfriend is gonna love it. It’ll give him an instant boner.”

D
evon shut the oven door with his heel. The warm sweetness of chocolate filled the air in the small kitchen, hugging him in a cocoon of well-being.

The sound of chocolate-chip cookies sliding onto the wire baking rack on the counter next to the stove echoed in the quiet apartment.

Killer, lying by the apartment door, rolled over and resumed his doggy snoring.

A glance at the clock confirmed Jamie had been gone for almost three hours. Should he be worried? Should he go check on her? Right. And say what?

He grabbed a warm cookie and took a big bite, only to open his mouth to let air cool the melted chocolate chip burning a hole in his tongue.

The cool milk carton slipped from his hand just as he lifted it to take a swig. Helpless, he watched as, in slow motion, it bounced on the tile floor, sending a plume of white liquid to rooster tail over him, drenching his shirt, rapidly soaking into the running shorts he’d pulled on after Jamie left. The milk swam around his bare feet, darting between each toe, cold against the sensitive skin.

A swipe of his hand confirmed that not only was his face drenched, so was his hair. As soon as he cleaned up the mess and put another batch of cookies into the oven, he’d grab a quick shower. If Jamie had not returned by the time he was out of the shower, he’d go look for her.

The bell above the door of
Play It Again, Ma’am
rattled against its brass hook.

Jamie clutched the pile of clothing to her chest at the sight of Francyne walking into the boutique and cast a frantic glance at Shirl.

He waived a negligent hand and tottered on his size-twelve high-heeled pumps to meet the older woman.

“You’re gonna have to leave, old woman. Management doesn’t allow dogs in here.”

“Maybe she’s a seeing-eye dog,” Francyne retorted, shoving past Shirl’s bulk to the sale rack.

“Yeah, and maybe she’s not. You see just fine. Take your dog and get out.”

Hands on hips, Francyne whirled to face him. “You old cross-dressing goat! I have as much right to be in this shop as anyone. Petunia isn’t hurting a thing, and you know it. Now get out of my way.” Peeking around his arm, she waved and smiled. “Hi, Jamie! I was just telling this old goat Petunia wouldn’t hurt a fly and she’s not doing anything wrong. Is she bothering you?”

Jamie blinked. “Ah, no. I was just about to leave anyway.”

Francyne pulled a string bikini, in a shocking shade of orange, from the rack and held it up for inspection. “What do you think? Is it me? I bet the boys at the pool would really sit up and take notice if I wore this when I sunbathed.”

“No offense,” Shirl said, “but I think the days of men sitting up to take notice when you wear a bathing suit ended with Prohibition. Besides, you already look like a piece of shoe leather. Haven’t you ever heard tanning is bad for your skin?”

“Hey,
Cinderfella
, haven’t you ever heard a tan hides cellulite?” Francyne countered.

“I believe, in order to have cellulite, you have to have something other than skin and bones.” Shirl straightened to his full height and placed his fists on his ample, silk-clad hips.

Francyne regarded him for a few seconds and then broke into a grin as she patted his hip. “You’d know more about that than I would, for sure, bless your heart.” On tiptoe, she gave him an affectionate hug. “How’ve you been,
girlfriend
?”

“Fine until you and your mutt walked in.”

While the obvious friends shared a laugh, Jamie wilted in relief. She hated arguments and any kind of confrontation. For a few moments, she’d feared having to rescue the older woman.

“Jamie, I’m going to try this on while you finish your shopping; then I’m going to treat you to an ice cream on our way home.”

After she’d slipped behind the curtained area, Jamie walked to the counter.

“What are you doing?” Shirl gave a mock look of disgust and shook his head. “Here. Put that stuff in one of these shopping bags and take off.”

“But I thought I’d pay for at least some of it—”

Shirl leaned across the counter, his beak nose close to Jamie’s. “Did I ask for any money? No, I did not. I don’t need your money.” He gestured around the store at the bulging racks and shelves. “And I sure as hell don’t need any more inventory. You’d be doing me a favor by taking that junk off my hands.”

“Shirl, I don’t know how to thank you. I—”

“No thanks necessary, doll. Just enjoy the clothes and stop by occasionally for a visit, okay? Deal?”

“Deal.”

“Okay, you old reprobate,” Francyne said as she toddled up to the counter. “I’ll take it and this pair of walking shoes. They’re a perfect fit! Total up the damages.”

“Are you losing your mind, old woman? You donated those shoes two weeks ago.”

“Horsefeathers! Why would I give away a perfectly good pair of walking shoes?”

“Beats me,” Shirl grumbled as Jamie stepped out into the sunshine with Petunia at her heels.

The bench on the other side of the boardwalk was vacant, so she sat on it, the dog as close as she could get to her left leg.

“We’ll wait here for your mommy, Petunia. How would that be?” She scratched the silky warm fur beneath the dog’s ear. Within seconds, Jamie’s eyes began watering and her nose burned. She sniffed. Yes, it definitely was Petunia’s fur getting to her. But the big dog was such a gentle giant, she didn’t want to not touch her. “Do you like ice cream?” she asked, smoothing the warm, silky coat.

“’Course she likes ice cream, she’s female.” Francyne walked up, shifting her shopping bag to grasp the dog’s trailing leash. “Just let me get situated. Don’t want another ticket for not having Petunia on a leash.”

The dog’s hackles rose, a low growl echoing deep in her throat.

Both women followed the dog’s gaze.

A tall man stood by the corner of the surf shop. With the sun in her eyes, Jamie couldn’t make out his features, but Fred immediately sprang to mind.

She blinked, and he was gone; she could breathe again.

Petunia immediately quieted and settled into a slow, lumbering gait beside them as they made their way to the ice-cream parlor.

“Did you know that fella back there?” Francyne held the door open and motioned Jamie into the cool interior.

“I don’t think so. I didn’t really get a good look at him.” At least, she hoped she didn’t know him.

“Well, whoever he was, Petunia didn’t care for him.” She motioned for the dog to sit by the door and shuffled over to the counter. “Hey, Tommy, how’re you doing? How’re your mama and daddy these days?”

“They’re fine, Miz Anderson, Just fine. And yourself? What can I get for you ladies today?”

“I’ll take a triple scoop of mocha cheesecake in a cup, with marshmallow sauce. And give it a blast of hot fudge while you’re at it.”

“Make mine the same but with boysenberry cheesecake ice cream, please.”

“You got it. I’ll get it as soon as I give my favorite customer her cone.” Tommy scooped a huge mound of peach ice cream into a sugar cone and then walked out from behind the glass counter to offer it to Petunia.

The dog practically vibrated her joy, her bobtailed rump wagging so hard it lifted her hind legs off the floor in a happy dance.

A sudden lump rose in Jamie’s throat. How had she lucked out to land in a place with so many nice people? Not only did they all know each other, they even knew and were kind to the animals. Blinking back sappy tears, she accepted the cup of ice cream from Tommy and followed Francyne to a table by the door.

“Tommy’s a good kid,” Francyne said between bites, as if she’d read her mind. “His mama’s first husband, Tommy’s father, was a policeman. Got killed in a drug bust. Tommy was just a baby. Rita, his mother, lived in the Surfside for a while. Until she met Wes. He owns the market down the way. All the merchants gathered round to help Rita and little Tommy, donating their goods and time. Pretty soon, we noticed ole Wes spending a lot more time around her than any of the rest of us.” Francyne grinned and tossed her empty cup into the trash and then wiped her hands. “Nature took its course, and they’ve been married now, oh, ’bout fifteen years, I’d say. Gave Tommy two little sisters.” She dabbed at her eyes and then settled her glasses back onto the bridge of her nose. “I just love it when things work out.”

“It sounds like Rita was very lucky to have such a supportive group around her.” Jamie stood, tossing her cup in the trash and holding the door for Francyne and Petunia.

“Nah, not lucky. That’s just the way it is around here. Those that have help the ones that have not. What goes around comes around.”

Jamie thought about that on the way back to the complex.

“Want to take a walk with me and Petunia?”

Jamie shook her head. “I can’t right now. But thank you anyway.”

“Fixin’ to do some more product testing with our young stud Devon?” Francyne wiggled her eyebrows and grinned.

Heat streaked up Jamie’s neck to puddle in her cheeks. “No, I, ah, I mean, I just told him I’d let him know when I got back. We’re just friends, Francyne.” Wow. That didn’t even sound convincing to her.

“Sure, sure. I get it.” Francyne shrugged. “I just had high hopes for you two. You look so cute together and all. You don’t have a boyfriend or anything, do you?”

“No! But I just came off a long-term relationship, and I’m not ready to get involved with anyone. Yet.”

The old woman patted Jamie’s cheek. “You just keep telling yourself that, sweetie. C’mon, Petunia. Let’s get this show on the road or we’ll miss our soaps.”

Devon placed the cookie sheet in the dishwasher and glanced at the clock on the stove when a knock sounded. Running a hand through his shower-damp hair, he made his way to the door, sidestepping a yapping Killer.

Jamie resisted the urge to throw her arms around Devon when he answered the door. Barely.

Stepping inside, she took a deep breath. Warm and cozy, his apartment smelled inviting and mouthwatering.

“Are you baking?” She set her packages by the door and followed him into the kitchen.

“Yeah, I do that a lot these days.”

“Oh?” Taking the cookie he offered, she took a bite, forcing her eyes to remain open when the flavors burst on her tongue. “Oh, wow. This is fantastic! It’s the best chocolate-chip cookie I’ve ever tasted. What did you do to the recipe?”

“Added a couple extra things, used real butter, stuff like that.” He opened and shut the refrigerator. “I was going to offer you a glass of milk to go with that, but I forgot I don’t have any.”

“I wish I’d known,” she said, reaching for another cookie. “I could have picked some up. Wait. I have a gallon at my apartment. I’ll go get it.”

“No! I don’t want you going back there until I get the window fixed. The glass place couldn’t get to it until tomorrow.”

“Devon, I’ll be perfectly safe there. I’m sure it was just some kid making mischief.” She gave a little shudder. “The worst part is I keep wondering if he saw, you know, us. On the table.”

He brightened. “That reminds me. Check it out.” He pulled another phallus from the fridge, this one green. “I was trying out some of the new shipment and found this. It’s really cool.”

He removed the lid from a stainless-steel cake plate and grabbed an unfrosted cupcake. Setting the cupcake on the counter, he gripped the base of the green thing, balancing the length on the fingers of his right hand. Green frosting came out of the tip in delicate ruffles.

He reached for a shaker and sprinkled multicolor sugar sparkles on top. “It’s actually not a bad frosting tube. There are interchangeable tips to make other designs, but I haven’t tried them yet.”

Their gazes met and held. The kitchen got hotter.

“Want to play with the various designs? I could use the research.”

“You mean play with each other and the frosting or play by decorating more cupcakes?”

He edged closer to her, close enough for her to smell his soapy, clean skin. “Whatever you want….”

Suddenly she knew what she wanted and it had nothing to do with frosting and everything to do with the sexy man before her.

J
amie lay panting, sprawled naked on Devon’s bed, and glanced over at her discarded halter top, wondering if her gel blobs were still in the built-in bra and if Devon had noticed the disparity.

She found that this took too many brain cells. Brain cells that were recently fried by her last full-bodied orgasm.

Beside her, Devon frowned as he examined the frosting rosette he’d recently created on each of her nipples. “Definitely not my best work.” He sucked one off and reapplied the frosting, his brows drawn in concentration.

She would have laughed, but it required too much oxygen.

“I can’t tell if it’s the tip or my technique. Hold still.” He licked the frosting from her right breast and then the left.

Somewhere along the way, he became sidetracked and began licking and sucking the clean nipple, blowing on the distended tip in a very distracting way.

“I love your breasts,” he said, his hot breath sending shafts of desire to spear through to her core. “Especially your nipples. They’re so perfect.” He circled each with the tip of his tongue as though to demonstrate. “I love to play with them.” He licked them and then blew lightly. “See how responsive they are? Look how they pucker and get hard.”

Rallying her strength, she closed her hand around his erection. “Looks like they’re not the only things hard around here.” Had she more oxygen in her deprived brain, she was sure she’d have been scandalized by her aggressive behavior. When had she ever been so brazen?

His pulse stroked her palm, short-circuiting her train of thought.

“Are you finished playing with the frosting?”

“Why? What did you have in mind?” She loved it when his voice was low and sexy like that.

With her other hand, she grasped the frosting dildo and tossed it across the room, where it bounced against the closed door.

“What I have in mind does not require gimmicks, aids or batteries.” She smoothly flipped their positions, straddling his lean hips. “I want to screw your brains out. The old-fashioned way.”

Guiding him to the spot once again eager for his heat, she lowered her hips until she’d taken him fully into her body.

Their eyes met.

She brought his hands up to hold her breasts.

He caressed her rigid nipples with the pads of his thumbs, causing her hips to buck.

Her moisture made his abdomen slippery. She had to clench her knees to his hips to stay on.

His hands kneaded her breasts, his hips encouraging her wild ride.

Higher and higher she went, nothing anchoring her but his hands and his body buried so deeply within hers. Close, so close. Her breath came in short, agonizing gasps. The only sounds in the room were their panting, the soft slap of skin against skin, the subtle answering moan of the springs.

After moment after agonizing moment of being poised on the brink, she tumbled, free-falling into the abyss of supreme sexual satisfaction.

Devon’s hips thrust once, twice and held, his grip on her breasts a pleasure/pain. Back arched, he made a guttural sound, his warmth spreading deep within her belly.

Collapsing on his sweat-slicked chest, she gasped for air, his heartbeat thundering in her ear.

His hands moved, smoothing, petting every spot he could reach, his fingers outlining the edges of her breasts where they pillowed outward. Never still, they kept moving until, miraculously, the stirrings began again.

At first it was a small, dull ache between her legs that caused her to squirm a bit. That squirm brought an answering movement from the penis buried deeply within her.

His caresses became more obvious, firmer, touching certain areas more than others.

Moisture gathered. Again.

His mouth took hers in a carnal kiss, telling her without words what he wanted to take, what she wanted to give.

Devon lay in the dark, watching Jamie put on her clothes. “You don’t have to go, you know. In fact, it’s probably a waste of time. I’ll just follow you and we’ll start all over again. Why not skip the preliminaries and just come back to bed?”

She walked to the side of the bed and bent to brush his lips in a fleeting kiss. “You’re probably right, but I just think I need to go.”

“Are you going to spend the night at Todd’s again?”

“Does it matter?”

“Hell, yes, it matters!” He propped his head on a wadded-up pillow and did his best to glare at her and not notice the slight flush of stubble burn tingeing the delicate skin of her chest or how his hands all but itched to tear her clothes off and haul her naked body back to his bed where it belonged.

Wait. Since when did he think she belonged in any way, shape or form to him? That was not the deal.

With a sigh, he threw back the covers and stood. “Let me grab some clothes and I’ll walk you back to Todd’s.”

“You don’t have to do that. I—”

“Yes, damnit, I do! I—”

A little whimper and a definite scratch on the door stopped him from making a fool of himself.

“I have to go walk Killer anyway, so it’s no big deal to walk you back.”

“Oh. Okay.” Cheeks heating, she averted her eyes and made her way to the door. “I need to use the bathroom. Then I’ll wait out there.”

She leaned against the closed door and sighed, listening to him move around in his room. Of course he would walk her home. He was a gentleman, and besides, he had to take his dog out. It didn’t mean anything.

Sure, he was a nice guy. A great guy. But he wasn’t interested in her as anything other than a temporary sexual indulgence. She thought she was okay with that, going in. Really, how long would she stick around anyway? Casual sex had never appealed to her, but the idea had had infinite possibilities once she’d met Devon. They would use each other for sex and then go their separate ways. She was cool with that.

So why did it feel so…disappointing?

Glum, Jamie shuffled from the bathroom in Todd’s apartment the following morning, feeling only slightly more refreshed after her shower.

Todd was still mysteriously absent. Jamie snickered as she poured a cup of coffee and picked at a bowl of fruit he’d left on the counter for her. Maybe Todd had gotten lucky.

Of course, one would say she had, too. But she’d insisted on coming back to sleep alone. On hindsight, not one of her best ideas.

Thoughts of Devon caused a needy ache between her legs. An ache only he seemed able to appease.

“Enough,” she said to no one as she loaded her cup and fruit bowl into the dishwasher. If she didn’t see Devon after she went back to her apartment and hung up her clothes, she’d take a walk on the beach. Or go find the pool and refresh her tan. Anything but mope around and miss him.

The air off the Gulf, as usual for mornings, was brisk. Jamie took an appreciative breath and skipped down the stairs, her key firmly in one hand, the bag of new clothes in the other.

It was a gorgeous day. Way too nice to hang out indoors. Humming to herself, she rounded the corner of the building to stop dead in her tracks. Her heart stumbled. Her blood ran cold.

A perfect yellow rose lay on the welcome mat of her apartment.