Make Me Scream (15 page)

“T
urn around.”

“Excuse me?”

“Trust me. Turn around, facing away. No, keep your legs on either side of the chair. That’s right. Okay, now sit back. A little more. That’s it. Ahhh!”

Jamie’s eyes widened when Devon shoved aside the leg of her bottoms and shoved his hot penis into her. A second later, she was squirming to get closer, to increase the sensation rushing through her.

“Scoot back a little more,” he said against her ear. “That’s right, baby, just like that.” His voice was almost a purr. “Oh, yeah, that feels so good.” He took nibbling kisses along the side of her neck, his hands pushing on the underside of her top.

Collecting her wits enough to move his hands to the neckline, she leaned against his chest and let the sun and Devon worship her.

His hands gently kneaded her breasts; then his index fingers and thumbs dipped in to squeeze and roll her nipples. All the while, his hips performed languid thrusts. In the distance, the waves could be heard rolling to the shore in perfect accompaniment to the sensual push and pull of his penis deep within her.

Her head lolled against his shoulder. Devon heated her inside while the sun heated her skin.

She whimpered and wiggled her hips for a closer, deeper union. Her completion was elusive, dancing just out of reach, in and out with each thrust.

Beneath his fingers, her nipples hardened to twin peaks of pleasure/pain. She was so wet, so primed, it was amazing his penis didn’t slip out.

Just as she was about to cry her frustration, a wave of pleasure crashed over her, drenching her, drowning her, in the intensity of her release.

Devon pulled on her aching nipples, rolling them, prolonging her ecstasy.

Wrung out, she stilled, impaled on him, limp and panting. The sensation of her vagina opening and clenching around his erection stimulated her, but she was too sated to do anything about it.

Devon’s thrusts became harder, deeper, faster. His grasp on her nipples tightened to the point of more pain. His harsh gasps of air huffed into her ear, ruffled her hair against her neck.

A tickle of arousal blossomed deep within her. Within seconds, it was in full bloom, driving her to her second orgasm in as many minutes.

Devon plunged into her, his hands clutching her breasts, plastering her back to his chest. He growled and then groaned his completion, every muscle in his body hard against hers.

The blood roaring through her ears subsided enough to allow her to hear the surf again. Sweat-slicked and panting, she tilted her head back to look at Devon, who still held her tightly against his heaving chest.

His eyes were closed, nostrils flared, as he gulped in air.

One by one, his muscles relaxed against her, his grip on her breasts slackened. His fingers moved in little caresses up and around the cups of her suit, occasionally outlining the top edge, his touch burning her as though they hadn’t just had mind-blowing sex.

Deep within her, his penis moved, causing an answering wiggle of her hips.

“I could stay like this forever,” she said with a sigh.

“I know what you mean,” he said against her ear, “except I think I may need a couple of Band-Aids.”

Despite his argument, Jamie managed to get him into her bathtub, where she then tenderly washed the abrasions scoring each side of his waist and hips.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” she asked when he hissed at the feel of soap and hot water as she washed off the droplets of blood.

“Hey, it was my fantasy. What’s a little pain compared to that?”

“Men,” she said under her breath as she helped him stand and patted him dry. “You can be such weirdos. Didn’t it hurt each time you moved?”

He gave a fake macho laugh. “That wasn’t the sensation I was focused on.”

“Go lie on the bed while I get the ointment and gauze pads. Good thing for you I bought some when I went out.”

“Okay, but I don’t want you to think I’m easy.” He grinned back over his shoulder as he walked to the bedroom.

“Oh, please.” She swatted his bare butt. “That train has left the station.”

On his stomach, he breathed in the fresh scent of laundry detergent and fabric softener while he waited for Jamie to come back. He should probably go home and get some writing done after he let her tend to his sex injury. He’d left Trent in a pretty tight situation, plus he promised his editor he’d fax the ad copy for the kitchen line by the end of the week. Unfortunately he lost all creative ambition when Jamie walked back in and climbed onto the bed next to him. Well, creative ambition as pertained to writing. He found he could still be plenty creative sexually.

“Put that hand down!” Swatting his hand away, she continued smoothing the cool ointment onto his fevered, abused skin. For good measure, she swatted his left buttock. “I mean it, Devon! Cut it out. Now lie still while I get the gauze taped down.”

“Are you finished yet?”

Her cheeks heated. Good thing he wasn’t looking at her. He would have caught her ogling his bare backside. She took another peek. Oh, yeah, it was in fine shape.

“Caught you!” Grabbing her, he rolled until he had her pinned beneath him. “You were looking at my butt!”

“Was not!” Laughing, she made a halfhearted attempt to roll him off.

“Were, too!” His laughter died as their gazes locked. He kissed the tip of her nose. “Your nose is sunburned. You should have worn sunscreen.”

“I didn’t have the chance to put any on. Some horny guy wanted to do it in the lounge chair.”

“It’s called a ‘chaise,’ and watch who you’re calling a horny guy.”

At that moment, Mr. Happy rose to the occasion.

Jamie arched an eyebrow and grinned.

“Okay, point taken. But it still hurt my feelings.”

“Poor baby.”

“That’s right. I’m not just some horny guy…am I?” At her silence, he hurried on. “I mean, I’m more than your sex toy, aren’t I? Not that there’s anything wrong with that.” He ran the tip of his finger down the wrapped front of her robe, leaving a trail of fire, branding her. “I could live with being a sex object.”

She raised her head and brushed a light kiss across his lips. “You’re the only ‘horny guy’ I’d consider letting do the things we’ve done.”

He reached between them and untied the sash of her robe. “Prove it.” Cupping her breasts in his hands, he licked the tip of her nipples. He blew on the wetness, watching them pucker. He gave a little squeeze she felt all the way to her core. He ran the tip of his tongue around each nipple and then drew one deeply into his mouth.

He placed a string of kisses around each areola and then dragged his tongue between her breasts, up her neck to her mouth. “I love to kiss them,” he said against her mouth. “And I love kissing you,” he whispered and then proceeded to do just that.

When she felt his erection slip between her spread legs, she wedged her hands between their bodies and pushed on his chest. “Stop. We need protection. We’ve already taken too many chances.”

He stared at her blankly. “I didn’t bring anything with me. Please tell me you have something.” He glanced between their bodies. “Don’t send me out into the cold like this.” A slow smile crossed his face. “We don’t have to actually do it, you know.”

“We don’t?” Disappointment washed through her. For someone who never really cared for sex, she’d suddenly become addicted to it with Devon. The thought of abstaining wasn’t a happy one.

He shook his head. “Nope. There are other ways to have sex. Ways that don’t include penetration. Besides, I thought women liked to cuddle?”

“That’s true….” The idea of just cuddling lost a lot of appeal, now that she knew what she’d be missing. She ran her hand across his abdomen and grasped his erection, sliding her hand up and down.

He gently disengaged her hand and moved to the side of the bed. “If you keep doing that, I can’t make any promises.” Standing, he reached for her. “Okay, slide to the edge of the bed. No, don’t get up. Okay.”

He parted her robe, draping it on each side of her breasts. “Lean back a little, resting on your hands. That’s it.” He touched the tip of each breast, which obediently puckered. “So pretty,” he whispered before kissing each one.

His hands were hot when they caressed her thighs apart, spreading them. Dropping to his knees, he stared at a place few men had ever seen.

“I want to touch you,” he said in a husky voice, “everywhere.” His hands slid up the inside of her thighs, spreading her wider, his fingers dancing along her moisture. “I want to kiss you,” he said, softer still, as he trailed tiny kisses up the inside of each thigh, stopping just shy of the place that wept for him. “Everywhere,” he whispered and took her aching folds in his mouth, sucking and running his tongue up and down until she was clutching the sheets in her fists to keep from grabbing him and demanding more.

Tucking her legs up onto his shoulders, he tilted her hips for better access and flicked her clitoris with the pointed tip of his tongue.

The muscles in the backs of her thighs vibrated with her arousal.

He ran the tip of his tongue around her opening, eliciting a moan, and then pierced her once, twice, three times with quick, hot thrusts.

Frustrated, she grabbed his hair and held him tight while his mouth continued to ravage and please her. On the edge, she tried to tug him upward, but he persisted.

His teeth closed around her aching nub, sucking it deeply into his mouth. He suckled the tender morsel while he inserted his finger and echoed the rhythm deep within.

On the brink and pretty much out of her mind with lust, she spread her legs wider, holding his head in place, her hips bucking wildly, toes curling.

Her orgasm shook her to the core, wetting the sheet beneath her, wringing her out.

And still he continued to pleasure her.

Wild now, she clawed at him in an attempt to pull him up and into her body. A body that craved what only he could give her.

Finally, finally, he paused and looked up at her, his face set in grim lines, his thumbs continuing to pleasure her. “I want you to suck me, but I can’t risk it. I want you too much.”

“What do you want?” Her voice was a raspy whisper. “Tell me.”

“I want to fuck you.”

Leaning back on her elbows, she tugged him up to her, spreading her legs to accommodate his hips. Placing her hands on each side of his head, she gripped his hair and said in a low, growling voice, “Do it!”

D
evon pulled the sheet over Jamie and kissed her cheek. She mumbled something and turned over.

After pulling on his trunks, he stepped out of her door and locked it. The new dead bolt turned much smoother than the old one. He glanced down at his key ring. Maybe making his copy of her new key in pink was kind of hokey, but it made it easier to find.

Whistling, he headed across the dark courtyard. A glance at his watch confirmed he’d been out longer than he’d told Francyne. It wouldn’t do to take advantage of her neighborly goodwill.

A Post-it note on his door fluttered in the ocean breeze. He grabbed it and unlocked his door. Inside, he read the spidery handwriting:

 

Took your mutt. Return tomorrow.

 

The note was simply signed with an
F
. He chuckled. That was Francyne for you, a woman of few words. Unless, of course, she was giving advice.

Alone in his apartment, he wandered around, wondering what he’d done before adopting Killer. Funny how empty the place was without the little guy.

Suddenly hungry, he turned on the oven to preheat and then began pulling ingredients from the pantry and refrigerator. A homemade pizza would taste good, and if there was any left he could either have it for breakfast or give it to Killer tomorrow.

He prepared a whole-wheat crust, brushed extra-virgin olive oil on the pizza pan and spread the dough to cover it. After he’d mixed tomato sauce and chunky picante sauce and poured it over the crust, he opened and drained a can of chicken breast meat and spread it on top of the sauce. Fresh chopped mushrooms came next, along with green pepper and a thick layer of colby jack and mozzarella cheese.

After popping it into the oven, he poured a glass of Lambrusco and walked to his desk to bring up his work-in-progress on the laptop.

Settled in his chair, he watched the cursor, typed a word or two and then deleted them and sat and watched the cursor blinking for a while longer.

The pizza began to fill the apartment with a mouthwatering scent. As if on cue, his stomach growled.

A timid knock barely registered until it came again.

Just in case he’d written anything substantial, he hit
SAVE
and got up.

Jamie stood, shivering, when he opened the door, her pink robe wrapped snugly around her, arms crossed. She shifted from one bare foot to another. “Aren’t you going to ask me to come in?”

He bowed and stepped back, waving her into the apartment. “What’s up?”

“I woke up, and you were gone.” She looked toward the kitchen and sniffed the air. “And I smell pizza.”

“You smelled that all the way across the courtyard?” He grinned down at her and tried not to think about what she might or might not have on under the robe.

“No,” she said with a smile and batted her eyelashes at him. “But I am hungry.”

“Still haven’t gone grocery shopping, huh?”

“Yes, I went, but there isn’t anything good at my place.” She sniffed again and moved farther into the apartment. “Not as good as that pizza smells, anyway.”

He bit his cheek to keep from laughing. “Would you like a piece of pizza?”

In response, she walked to the dining room table and sat down. “I thought you’d never ask. Is it almost done? I’m starving!”

After eating, she helped clean up and then wandered back into the living room, apparently in no great hurry to go home.

“Am I keeping you from working?” she asked when he glanced at the computer screen for the second time since they’d sat down.

“Unfortunately, no.” He settled back on the couch and pulled her against him. When she rested her head on his shoulder, he realized he was doing exactly what he wanted to do. “I opened the file with my book but couldn’t really get into the story. Then I thought about writing the descriptions for the kitchen-line gadgets, but then I realized I was hungry, so I made the pizza. Then you came over.”

“I don’t want to be the cause of you not writing.” She tried to sit up, but he held her firmly against him. “Really, Devon. I can go home. It’s getting late.” She glanced down at her robe. “I can’t believe I walked over here in my robe. What was I thinking?”

He grinned and gave her a one-armed hug. “Don’t worry about it. Francyne does it all the time. Hell, she even has been known to walk Petunia like that.”

“Wow. Is that how she maintains her tan?”

“Nah. I don’t know if you noticed or not, but there is no apartment above hers or mine. She made a tanning deck on her roof.” He gave an exaggerated shudder. “That’s a sight to see first thing in the morning, I’ll tell you! She usually walks Petunia after breakfast and then tans for the rest of the morning.” Their eyes met. “Afternoons, of course, are reserved for her soaps.”

Jamie giggled. “Don’t tell me, she wears a bikini.”

“I wish! The first time I saw her, I was afraid I’d have to jab out my eyes. Miz Francyne likes an even, all-over tan, if you know what I mean.”

Their laughter echoed within the quiet apartment.

Jamie wiped the mirth from her eyes and stood, tightening her belt. “I should go. Thanks for the pizza.”

He caught her belt as she walked toward the door and pulled her back and into his arms. “You could stay and help me research the toys.”

“I thought you said you were going to write up the descriptions for the kitchen gadgets.”

“If you stay, I could do the sex-toy work instead. Which I vote for, since it would be much more fun.” He tugged her belt, and her robe fell open.

She was naked.

“Ms. Jamie! You’re plumb nekkid under there!” The grin made his alleged shock a lie.

She shrugged. “I thought, maybe…Well, I guess I should go.”

“Wait!” He hauled her into his arms. “I think something just came up. Let’s not be too hasty about leaving. After all, you came ready and willing to help me test the products. I think that’s what we should do. So, what would you like to help me test first?” He gestured at the array of products spread over the coffee table.

She picked up the candy dish of condoms. “How about we test to see which one of these really glows in the dark?”

Jamie woke with a slight headache and the taste of strawberry and latex in her mouth. Looking around, she realized she was in her own bed. Alone.

Slowly the night before came back to her. She and Devon had tried out every condom in the candy dish. They glowed in green, orange and yellow. The pink one didn’t glow as brightly but felt more substantial than its brighter counterparts. She and Devon agreed the flavored condoms interfered less with tactile pleasure than the glow-in-the-dark ones. Which explained the aftertaste.

Realizing her legs were wobbly, she giggled and walked gingerly into the bathroom. They’d probably had more sex last night than she’d had in her entire life.

She leaned closer to the mirror and examined the slight discoloration at the base of her neck, unable to stop smiling.

She couldn’t wait to “help” Devon again.

After a quick shower, Jamie braided her hair into a single braid and headed toward the boardwalk. Maybe Shirl would have a new shipment of dresses in. Devon was taking her out to dinner, and she wanted to look her best.

“Hey, doll,” Shirl called in his distinctive deep raspy voice when the bell jingled to announce her arrival. “I just got some stuff in that’s your size!” He toddled on orange-sequined heels to the door of the stockroom and pulled out a rolling rack. “Check it out while I make a couple of calls to customers.”

Today Shirl was dressed in a pair of lime-green stretch capri pants that were stretched to the max. His obviously waxed chest didn’t improve the neckline of the plunging neon-pink tank top. The edge of his fake boobs, clearly visible through the bra he wore, pushed against soft knit, giving his chest a boxy look. His outlandish red hair was piled on top of his head, secured with what looked suspiciously like a big swizzle stick topped with a little pile of fake fruit. Tiny clusters of bananas hung from each pierced ear, giving him the appearance of a Caribbean queen on testosterone overload.

Obviously noticing her stare, he did a slow turn and then flicked one earring with the tip of a bright coral fingernail. “What do you think? Too much?”

“Well, it’s certainly, um, eye-catching.”

Shirl nodded and looked thoughtful, so Jamie took it as a sign to try on a few dresses she snagged from the new items.

With Shirl’s voice rumbling in the background, Jamie tried on three dresses and a pantsuit that reminded her of a costume from
The Brady Bunch.

Disheartened, she walked out to rehang the clothes, shaking her head at Shirl’s questioning look.

“Hold on, sugar.” Shirl covered the receiver and whispered. “Did you see the black number on the other end?” He made a shooing motion with his hand and then went back to his conversation.

Jamie held up “the black number.” Tiny sparkles woven into the fabric caught and reflected the light coming in through the plateglass windows. The dress looked tiny, but the tag confirmed it was her size.

She tested the fabric by giving it a little tug. It stretched and then popped right back.

In the fitting room, she stared at her reflection. She looked like she was wearing black-glittered shrink-wrap.

After confirming that no one else was in the store, she hurried out to the three-way mirror. By light of day, it really wasn’t bad.

She turned, observing the dress from every conceivable direction, light reflecting her every move. The long sleeves were sheer with the same tiny sparkles woven in. The neckline was low. Very low. It dipped almost to her belly button, while the back stopped just shy of being too revealing. A jaunty bow of the same fabric saved the back from being risqué by hiding the telltale slope of her derriere.

The hem was shorter than she usually wore, and she had to resist the urge to tug it down.

“Okay, doll, if you don’t take that dress, you are banned from this shop for eternity.” Shirl walked over and motioned for her to turn. Then he let loose a loud wolf whistle. “Damn, I wish I had it in my size.”

“I can’t imagine how anyone taller could wear it without being exposed.” Jamie frowned at the expanse of leg showing and wondered if she had the nerve to wear it that night.

“Truth be told, I think it may be a tunic top, doll, but it’s the perfect dress for you.” He pointed at her. “Stay right there. I think I saw some heels in the box that would go perfectly with it.”

For a big man, he moved pretty fast in high heels.

“What size do you wear, doll?” he called from the back room.

“Five or five and a half, but you may as well forget it,” she called back, “because it’s almost impossible to find that size anymore.” Which was fine, because she preferred flip-flops anyway.

Shirl emerged, waving a pair of the highest black heels Jamie had ever seen. “They’re a six, but they’re so high you’ll probably need the extra room to keep from pinching your toes. Gravity, you know.” He shoved the shoes toward her. “Look, they even have the same little sparkles as the dress.”

Jamie kicked off a flip-flop and slipped on one of the shoes. She would have immediately fallen over had Shirl not reached out to grab her. “I’ll never be able to walk in these things!”

“Sure you will, doll. If I can do it, so can you.” He held up the remaining shoe, light-leather sole out. “They don’t look like they’ve ever been worn, so maybe you should walk out on the sidewalk and do a few practice laps in front of the store to roughen up the soles while you get the hang of walking in them.”

Devon paced around his living room and checked the clock for about the fifth time in as many minutes. Killer was having another sleep-over with Petunia and Francyne, and it was surprising how much he missed him.

He glanced at the dark screen of the laptop and tamped down the guilt for not working on his book. After he had walked Jamie home last night—okay, so it had been closer to this morning—he had come home and written up enough descriptions to keep the editor of the Midnight Fantasies company happy for a while; then he’d faxed them.

But his mind wasn’t on his work anymore. Hadn’t really been, since he and Jamie got together.

Just the thought of his impending date had Mr. Happy ready to ride.

Images of the previous night flashed through his mind, tightening his pants.

Damn. With the way his life had been going lately, maybe he should try his hand at writing porn.