Playing with Fire (4 page)

“Griff? W-what’s wrong?”

“Were you waiting for me, Cassie?” he whispered, staring into her eyes. “Saving your sweet body for me?

“What?” Should she tell him he was right? Let her dark secret out of its hiding place?

“I don’t know whether to feel guilt or beat my chest, darlin’.” He pressed soft kisses on the corner of her mouth. “You didn’t tell me you’re a virgin, sweet thing. Did you want me to be your first lover? Tell me. Was that it?”

The answer bubbled up in her throat with a mind of its own, and her lips barely formed the word. “Yes.”

She didn’t dare tell him how many nights she had lain in her virginal bed dreaming of just this moment. She was eager and ashamed at the same time, but, more than anything, she was so aroused she couldn’t think.

“I won’t disappoint you,” he breathed in her ear. “I’ll make sure you’re good and hot and ready for me. A little bit of pain, but the pleasure, oh, sugar, the pleasure. I’ll make you feel so good. Just close your eyes and feel, sugar.”

She felt suspended in space. Her heart beat so loud she was sure he could hear it. He stroked her inner sheath, his fingertips rasping the sensitive skin, reaching far inside to stimulate every muscle and nerve. All the while, his thumb kept up its unbearable torment, back and forth, back and forth, on that hot, swollen nub. She clutched at the sheet beneath her, moving her body, wondering if she would go mad with the pleasure. Every sense was vibrant and alive. Then the first flutterings began inside her virgin sex. She was torn between fighting it and embracing it.

“Open your eyes and look at me,” he demanded. “Let go, Cassie. Just let go. Come for me, sugar. Let it happen.”

A mountain in her path couldn’t have stopped her. Her body was beyond her control, betraying her with every response.

All of a sudden, spasms raced through her. The intensity was too much, so much it frightened her. She had to stop it. And then she convulsed, her head coming off the pillow, her thighs clamping around his hand. She was over the edge as her orgasm racked her body, wave after wave of pleasure beating at her, consuming her, liquid pouring from her into his hand.

Griff pressed his mouth to hers, forcing it open, swallowing her moans as he pressed his fingers into her hard. Then it was over, and she lay panting on the bed. Her heart raced, and her sheath still contracted around his fingers with aftershocks. She almost cried out in protest when he withdrew his hand, cupping her mound with a gentle touch.

“Felt good, didn’t it, sugar?”

His deep voice was like a caress itself.

“Yes.” She could barely speak the word.

“That’s just the beginning, darlin’. Trust me, Cassie. I’ll take you to the top of the world.”

Before she could catch another breath, he slid down her body in a slow, languorous movement until his head rested between her thighs. He blew a soft puff of air on the entrance to her still quivering sex, his breath a hot breeze against her heated flesh, then stroked her with his tongue. With just the tip, he traced the line of her folds and the pink skin guarding her sex. Light as a feather, he teased and tasted, lapping up the slick moisture from her orgasm.

She might have thought she was finished already, undone, but at the first lick of his tongue, Cassie almost came off the bed. Strangled moans came from her throat as he held her thrashing body in place with his strong hands. He showed her no mercy, gave her no room to draw back as he used his tongue with relentless intent. Back and forth, around and around, until she was crying, begging, pleading for more.

Just as she thought she couldn’t bear the exquisite pain for another moment, he thrust his tongue into her and she came once more, pushing at him, pulling at him, her hands holding his head. He gripped her thighs as she rode out the storm and the quivering in her muscles subsided.

She was still waiting for her pulse to slow when he moved back up and took her hand.

“Touch me, Cassie. I want you to know what you’ll feel inside your body.”

His shaft was enormous and almost shocked her out of her fog of sensation. The silky skin, the hard thickness was like nothing she’d ever touched before. The tip was wet, and she used one finger to slide the moisture back and forth over the petal-soft skin. “All right, sugar. You are wide and wet for me.” He put his mouth close to her ear. “I’m glad you saved it for me, Cassie. Did you know you were always the one I wanted? The one I dreamed of at night?”

He shifted to reach into the nightstand drawer. Cassie heard the tearing of foil and opened her eyes to see Griff sheathing himself in a condom. Then he moved over her, positioning himself, the head of his shaft at the entrance to her sheath. Slowly, inch by inch he slid into her until he reached the membrane waiting to yield to him at any minute.

“Look at me, Cassie,” he commanded. “Open your eyes and look at me.”

She opened them. His eyes bored into her, glittering with deep desire. “A tiny pinch, darlin,’” he whispered. “That’s all. There.”

She recoiled a little at the pain, but he held her in place.

“Okay?” he asked in that low rumbling tone?

Was she? Oh, yeah. As the pain ebbed, hunger and craving took its place.

She nodded.

He thrust with his hips again, one strong push and then he was in all the way.

“All right, sugar,” he ground out. “Here we go.”

He slid his hands beneath her hips and lifted her to meet him. With a slow and steady movement, he thrust into her, forward and retreat, his gaze locked with hers.

Her tissues stretched around his thick, hard cock. She reached for him, clutching at him, drawing him deeper yet. When she lifted her hips to him in a silent signal, crying, “More”, he increased the tempo. Harder, faster, he held her tight against him so he could reach her deepest recesses, rocking her with the motion. When he slipped his fingers into the cleft of her buttocks, pressing his fingertips against the tight opening, that was all it took.

They came like the cataclysmic eruption of a volcano, falling over the edge together. Cassie felt as if she were shattering into a thousand pieces. She was flying; she was floating. Her body shook with the force of her orgasm, and colors swirled behind her eyelids. Through the thinness of the latex, she could feel Griff’s hot liquid jetting into her, his iron maleness throbbing as his release came with tremendous force. She never wanted it to end.

At last he collapsed on her chest, his heartbeat thudding against her, panting for breath. They lay in each other’s arms for a long time, neither of them speaking.

Cassie twined her fingers in his long, wheat-colored hair, trying to get her brain working again. She had just given her virginity that she’d guarded with such care to the town hooligan, her sister’s lover, and she didn’t even regret it. She didn’t know what had made her do it, but at the moment, she didn’t care.

She roused herself. “Griff?”

“Yeah, sugar?”

“I have to go. It’s very late.”

He sat up, taking her with him, searching her eyes. “Are you all right, Dewdrop?”

She smiled in the darkness. The nickname tickled her heart. “Yes, Griff. I’m fine. Better than fine.”

“I didn’t hurt you?” He smoothed the hair back from her face. “God, you were so tight.”

“And you’re so…large.” She smiled again. “No, I’m okay. Really.”

“I want to see you again, Cassie.”

“I-I’m going away day after tomorrow. I’ll be gone for a week. Then I’ll be heading back to the university.”

“Come back tomorrow night? Please? If that’s all the time we have, give us one more night. I’ll make it even better for you. I promise.”

She wanted to tell him if he made it any better she might die. But her sister intruded in the moment they shared. “What about Diane?”

“What about her? She’s got more fish to fry than she has a pan to put them in. It’s you I want, darlin’.” He put his lips close to her ear. “It’s always been you I’ve wanted. In my story, the bad boy gets the good girl.”

He stroked her ear with the tip of his tongue, and she shivered. She nodded, knowing she’d regret it.

She fought with herself all the next day and almost stayed away from him, calling herself all kinds of a fool, ashamed of her wantonness. But when the next night rolled around, there she was, lured by the Siren call of the most erotic experience of her life.

And Griff was right. The second night was better. He taught her things she’d never dreamed of, helped her to scale new heights of sexuality with him. She was in a constant state of arousal, never getting quite enough of him.

For two nights, cocooned in the secrecy of his room, away from unsuspecting eyes, Cassie learned about love and sensuality from Griffin Hunter. She reveled in it, gloried in it, celebrated life and loving in the big king-sized bed with the street light pouring in on them.

When she was dressing to leave the second night, he pulled open the drawer of the nightstand and handed her a little box. He seemed hesitant, almost embarrassed.

“For me?” she asked widening her eyes.

“It’s not much, Cassie, but it’s all I have to give you.”

“You don’t have to give me anything,” she protested.

“Yes,” he insisted. “I want you to have something that will always make you think of me.”

She opened it and drew in her breath. Nestled inside laid a tiny silver heart on a chain. She looked at him, questioning.

“I don’t give my heart that easy, sugar. But it belongs to you. Always. Take good care of it.”

She was so full of unexpected emotion her heart almost stopped. She clasped the gift to her breasts, treasuring it, moved almost to tears by his words. He helped her fasten the chain around her neck and gave her a soft kiss on the lips.

“I’ll see you when you get back,” he said. “Let’s not waste a minute before you have to go back to school.”

She nodded, already counting the days, visions of wedding dresses floating in her head.

But when she saw him a week later, he was already married. To Diane.

The present….

Cassie asleep was restless, and she woke often from the troubled dreams that plagued her. Being back in this house did nothing for her peace of mind. Giving up, she trudged downstairs, found some instant coffee in a cupboard, boiled some water, and made a cup. Sitting on the barstool at the end of the counter, she set the telephone book in front of her and made the calls she’d been dreading.

The people at the Stoneham Mortuary would be happy to meet with her any time she could make it during the day. Donald Brandon, under his father’s tutelage, tried to engage her in conversation, but his unctuous tones made her skin crawl. She planned to be in and out of that place as fast as she could.

“Oh, let me give you my cell number, since there’s no service here at the house. I guess someone had it disconnected.”

“I believe Neil did that,” he said. “No sense wasting money.”

It’s mine to waste, she wanted to tell him.

Her next call was to Neil himself. Along with his father, he handled most of the town’s legal work, and he also took her call right away.

“I’ve been waiting to hear from you, Cassie.” His tone was warm and sympathetic. “I’m sorry we have to meet again under these circumstances, but it will be a real pleasure to see you. I’m happy to take care of things for you.”

“I have no idea what there is to do, Neil,” she told him, “but Harley says you’ve handled everything for my mother.”

“There’s a small estate,” he explained, “and, of course, the house to deal with. Why don’t you come by around noon, and I’ll take you to lunch?”

No social engagements
.
Get it done and get out
. “I’m really only here for a short time. If we could meet this morning, that would help me a lot.”

“How about ten?” he asked, his voice barely concealing his disappointment. “Then maybe I can talk you into dinner.”

“Ten is fine,” she said, ignoring his other comment. “See you then. Oh, and let me give you my cell.”

She hadn’t brought much of a wardrobe with her, but she had packed her brand new summer pantsuit that would take her just about anywhere. She’d bought it because Claire told her the soft rose color was perfect with her light-blonde hair and deep-brown eyes, and Claire was definitely the fashion maven. At least she’d project an appearance of success with the people she’d be seeing. That was important to her. She showered, applied her makeup, and pulled her hair back into a gold clip to keep it away from her face in a neat style. Gold hoops at her ears completed the outfit.

She examined herself in the mirror. Yes, she’d face the town in style.

Before she left the house, she added some cleaning supplies to the list of groceries she needed. If she planned to sell the house, it couldn’t be shown as it was, and her mother didn’t seem to have much in the way of household items. She might as well buy enough groceries to get her through the weekend, too. Public places like restaurants, where she might run into Griffin, were to be avoided at all costs.

Her watch said ten sharp when she walked into Neil McLeod’s law office. Six years ago, when she was a junior in college, he’d been graduating from law school. He’d been tall and handsome then, athletic, with dark hair and deep-black eyes. Maturity agreed with him, improving on those good looks. Not that he was her type or anything. Too smooth, too polished.

I like them rough around the edges.

She shook off the thought and focused on the moment at hand. What does Neil know about Diane’s death? Did he keep up with her wild activities?

Gazing around the office, she spotted two framed photos on the credenza behind the desk. Neil had married Leslie Walters, daughter of his father’s partner, right after graduation. One photo showed the two of them laughing on the deck of a sailboat; the other included two small children, boys, carbon copies of their father.

“Good to see you, Cassie.” Neil stood to shake her hand, and indicated a chair across the desk from him.

“You’re looking well, Neil.” She nodded at the photos. “Life must be good for you.”

“Yes, it is. Dad and I share the practice,” he told her, “and there’s plenty to keep us busy. Leslie’s father retired about three years ago. Heart attack. He keeps his hand in with a few cases, but the doctors don’t want him working full-time.”