Even if it did mean he was the lousiest, lowest form of bottom feeder ever to enter the food chain, Chas knocked on Delilah’s door that evening. Wine bottle in one hand, bouquet in the other, he intended to make love to her all night, despite knowing there was more than a good chance he’d be breaking their engagement tomorrow before midnight.
He’d tried all afternoon and into the evening to get hold of the woman interested in his filly, but hadn’t received a return call. Chas still had most of tomorrow to get a line in to her, though he wasn’t holding out a lot of hope at this point.
He just couldn’t say goodbye to Delilah yet. Not yet.
The door swung open. “Hi Cha—”
He swept her into his embrace, kissing her hungrily on her mouth. Dropping the flowers, he moved across the threshold and into the foyer.
“Mmm…I missed you, too,” she murmured against his lips, amusement ripe in her tone. Melting against him, she slung her arms around his neck, raking her fingers through his hair as she melded her mouth to his once more.
The bottle of wine teetered, but didn’t fall from the entryway table, when he set it there. “I want you.”
She smiled against his mouth. “Sounds good. But what about dinner?”
He sucked on her lower lip. “Later.”
Throwing her head back and flinging her arms wide, she went limp in his embrace. “Take me, I’m yours.”
“Yes.” You are.
He carried her into her bedroom like some caveman out of a B-movie, dropped her on the bed with her legs sprawled off the edge, and stepped between them. He’d never done anything like it in his life before—was, on some other, distant level, surprised and a little appalled at himself—but was so hot for her, he hadn’t the will to change his course. He unzipped his pants and shoved the open fly of his boxers aside, setting his eager cock free. “I need to be inside you Dee.”
“I need that, too.”
She sat up, unbuttoning her blouse, but he pressed her back. “Too time consuming.” When she grinned and gave him a nod of pure-devil understanding, he pushed her skirt up over her hips, lifted her legs over his shoulders, and pulled aside the crotch of her silk panties. He slid into her in one long, gratifying stroke, their surprised gasps mingling in the hushed room.
In the next instant, they were moving in perfect time together, writhing and straining, breaths coming fast and feverish, bodies striving toward release. The pleasure nearly killed him. “Oh, God, Dee. Oh, God.” Somewhere, in the back of his mind, he knew he sounded like an imbecile, but poetic, sexy words were beyond him at that point.
Suddenly, her eyes flew wide and she cried out, arching high beneath him, her thighs quivering, a wave of rose glow rushing over her face and neck, as her canal convulsed around him. Pinpricks of light danced in his vision, the pace and depth of his strokes increasing of their own volition. His head rolled back on his shoulders as an involuntary roar burst from his lips and hot cum exploded from the very core of him.
When his head stopped spinning enough to risk movement, he leaned down and kissed her drowsy eyelids and soft, warm mouth. “Let’s get more comfortable,” he said and slowly slid out of her. She murmured in protest, but was clearly still under afterglow’s spell, because she didn’t say a word, barely even opened her eyes, while he helped her reposition herself on the mattress. He rolled her on her side and lay down beside her so that they spooned.
He held her like that for a good long time, content to be near her, smelling the floral fragrance of her hair, the heady scent of her feminine skin, and watching the sun’s last rays move across the room, leaving quiet shadows in their wake.
“Do you think our children will have black hair or blond?” she asked out of the blue.
The question roused him from the twilight he’d fallen into and immediately put a vise grip around his heart. A child with Delilah. God, he wanted that. He rolled away from her slightly and looked up at the ceiling with one arm still tucked under her head. “I—” his voice cracked, so he cleared his throat. “I don’t know. It would be nice to have one of each, I guess.” He felt her grin against his arm.
“Yeah. I like that,” she said, rolling over to face him and scooting closer so that she could use his shoulder as a pillow. “We’re going to have a wonderful life together,” she said, running her hand over his chest.
He leaned down and kissed her, taking her hand in his. “Yes, we are.” If I can sell the thoroughbred. The diamond in her engagement ring grazed his palm and he loosened his grip. As he continued to kiss her, he thought of the ring he wanted to give her instead and he wondered abstractedly if he shouldn’t have brought it over to her tonight. No, better to give it to her tomorrow night, after he explained about the fairy, and the choice she’d given him to make. Explained how he’d had to choose his father’s happiness over his own. She’d understand his choice, Chas had no doubt about that. Her generosity and big, open heart were a significant part of why Chas had fallen in love with her in the first place.
She murmured and rolled onto her back, bringing him with her. “Ready for another session with Mistress Domnonea?” she purred, a definite twinkle in her eye.
He grinned. “Uh huh.” So, okay, the fact that she had a very sexy dark side only enhanced his feelings. He allowed his eyes to trail down her clothed body. “But first I want to strip you naked and love you properly from head to toe.”
She stretched like a feline. “Mmm, promise?”
He answered her with a hard kiss on the mouth.
As he moved his attention to her neck, he unbuttoned her blouse and freed her breast from her lacy bra.
“I love you so much, Ch—oh!” she said, arching into him when he drew her nipple into his hungry mouth.
His chuckle rumbled against her breast, but his aching heart didn’t hear.
* * *
The next morning at the breakfast table in the kitchen, Chas rubbed his wrist. “I think I might’ve given myself a sprain last night.”
“The cuffs? But they’re lined in fur. Let me see.” She reached her hand out and he extended his, allowing her to continue the massage as she examined his wrist for damage.
“They may be lined, but I yanked the crap out of them when I felt that ice cold mouth and tongue around me. It shocked the shit out of me.
She glanced up, anxiety in her expression. “You didn’t like it?”
“No, I hated it.”
Her face crumbled.
He quirked a smile at her. “That’s why I yelled like a banshee and nearly gagged you with the wad I shot not two seconds later.”
She relaxed and grinned at him. “Oh. Yeah. I did have to discipline you for that—you hadn’t asked my permission to have an orgasm, you bad boy.”
“Mmm, I remember,” he said, a dreamy tinge, heavy with desire, colored his voice. “’Course, to be fair, if you hadn’t blindfolded me I might not have lost it so quickly—forewarned is forearmed.”
Sitting forward, she lifted a brow at him. “Oh, and by the way, it wasn’t the semen, it was the fact that your hips jackknifed up ramming the head of your penis against the back of my throat. It caught me off guard.”
He sat back, sliding his wrist from her hands and crossed his arms over his chest. Giving her an answering grin, he said, “Well, you caught me off guard a little too, you know. I was expecting a hot fuck not a sub-zero blow job.” His brow darkened. “Where’d you learn that little trick anyway?” Even he could hear the trace of jealousy that had entered his voice.
“A book.”
The grin returned. “Ah. You’ll have to show me sometime.”
She jumped up. “I’ll go get it.”
He grabbed her arm and as he hauled her down on his lap, he said, “No. Next time.” If there is one, his heart reminded. His lust changed to poignant tenderness and he hid his face in her hair, nuzzling her ear and neck with his nose and lips. “You are so beautiful, Dee.”
She smiled, turning and kissing him softly on the lips before shaking her head. “I need to lose some more weight.”
“No you don’t.”
“Oh, yes I do.”
“Where?”
“My ass for one thing.”
He straightened, moved her away slightly so that he could give her a stern look in the eye. “You’d better not! I love your ass. It’s sexy as hell.”
She blushed with pleasure, but her gaze dropped away from his. “My stomach, then.”
“No way.” He stroked his hand over the area under discussion and said, “You’re soft and feminine, don’t change a thing.”
“But Chas, I have to. My body doesn’t go with yours—“
He snorted. “I beg to differ—“
“You’re muscular and strong, why there’s not an ounce of fat anywhere on you—your body type goes with someone toned and thin.”
“Dee, look at me.” He didn’t wait for her to comply, simply tugged her chin so that she was forced to look him in the eye. “Don’t lose a single ounce. I like you just the way you are. I have an affinity for curvy women, you know.”
She didn’t believe him, he could tell, and then she proved it by saying, “I’ve never seen you with one before me. Your ex was rail thin and gorgeous—she could have been a runway model.”
He shrugged. “I hadn’t met you yet—for the second time—and now that I’ve gorged myself on a banquet, I’ll never go back to rations.” He kissed her cheek and whacked her dazzling derrière. “Not an ounce. Understood?”
She smiled and settled into his embrace, resting her head on his shoulder. “Understood,” she said on a sigh.
“You know, now that I think about it, I’ll bet I got this appetite for ample curves from my dear ol’ grandpa. He loved the bombshells from the fifties: Marilyn, Jane Russell, Jayne Mansfield.” He smiled, reminiscing. “Yeah, I spent a lot of Saturdays watching old movies with him when I was a kid.” His eyes went wide and he sat up. “Holy shit!” He hooted and looked at Delilah. “I just remembered something hysterical!”
She laughed too. “What?”
“One time, when I was about sixteen or seventeen, he took out this ancient magazine from a drawer in his desk—do you know who Bettie Page is?”
Her brow furrowed. “No. Who is she?”
He laughed again, he couldn’t help it. “Only the most famous fetish model in American history.” He relaxed against the back of the chair again. “Anyway, he showed me a couple of pictures of her in full domme attire: leather, sky-high pumps, and a whip in her hand. I was seriously turned on.”
Her grin broadened. “Well, that explains a lot.”
So did his. “Yeah, doesn’t it just?”
* * *
Delilah hummed as she closed the door a little later that morning, listening for Chas’s car engine to start, waiting until she heard him pulling out of her driveway before she turned to go back to her bedroom. Tonight was the gala and they both had a long list of things to do before it began. It was past time for her to be dressed and out the door herself. In a state of unutterable happiness, she sighed and smiled. Last night had been…her mind revolted for a split second, but it was what it was: magic. It had been magic. Romantic, sexy, fun, full of love and laughter. Richer in texture and emotion than their first night together, the recurring memories of it gave wing to her heart. He loved her. Oh, he hadn’t said it, but it hovered in every action, in every look, it was there.
She’d had her doubts, of course. After he’d left her at her doorstep the night of their engagement party she’d had plenty of time to worry over his motives. And their brief encounter yesterday morning had only fed her anxiety more. He’d been distant and rushed. Hadn’t even mentioned wanting to see her that evening, and she hadn’t been ready to push, so she’d left, conflicted and heartsore, believing they wouldn’t see each other again until tonight.
That’s why it had been both a thrill and surprise to find him on her threshold last evening. In fact, she’d nearly come to terms with the fact that she’d been duped into believing he had fallen for her, when the knock came on the door. And when he’d swept her up in his arms, had been so crazed to have her that he wouldn’t even let them undress first, that’s when her doubts had begun to take flight. But, she had to admit, it had been the emotion, the longing, in his voice when he’d spoken of the children they would have together that had sent the demon doubts fleeing for good.
* * *
Chas hung up the phone. It’d been a bit of a struggle, but he’d managed to keep his tone light and carefree. Sam Slade, his best friend from college, had agreed to fill the last spot at their table this evening.
Chas had learned that Sam was in town just before his engagement party and had invited him to that with the intention of asking him to be his best man, but Sam had left the party early, and Chas hadn’t gotten the chance to ask him. He supposed, now that the engagement was most likely going to be broken, it was a good thing he hadn’t gotten to talk to him.
Unfortunately, he’d forgotten about the stupid, kind of drunken, love triangle that had occurred between him, Isadora, and Sam that last year of college. That is, until Sam had asked him whether Isadora would be attending the event this evening. Then it had all come back to him in a rush. But hell, how was he to have known at the time that Sam was head over heels for the girl? They’d been sharing chicks their entire college career, why should that one have been different? Besides, Isadora had come on to him first. He defied any randy guy that age to say they’d nix a chance for free sex with a beautiful, shapely, horny redhead. Any guy.
Thankfully, Sam wasn’t the kind to hold a grudge.
Chas was just lucky as hell, though, that he’d agreed to have an early lunch with a mutual friend of his and Sam’s today. As they’d reminisced over the “the good ol’ days”, the guy had laughingly reminded Chas of the rumors that had gone around back then regarding Sam, especially one in particular regarding him and Chas’s prospective buyer. Otherwise, he would never have remembered the connection. Of course, the rumors had been absolute truth, but Chas would never betray them as facts to anyone without Sam’s consent. However, now that he’d gained the reminder, he intended to ask his old buddy for the biggest favor of his life. He needed Sam’s powers of persuasion. Sam and the prospective buyer of Chas’s thoroughbred had an interesting history: For a time, his first year in college, Sam had been her boy toy. And because of that intimate history, Chas was sure Sam could aid him in getting the woman to open her tight fist and let go of the purchase price of his horse.
Hell, Chas wasn’t even sure if Sam knew that he knew about Sam’s brief dabbling with older women of their parent’s set, but Chas was out of other ideas. And after the night he’d just spent in Delilah’s arms, he was even less ready to throw in the towel.
Chas figured he’d have to tell Sam about the financial mess he was in, in order to get him to make contact with the potential buyer and that was not a conversation he wanted to conduct over the phone. He’d bet his mother’s ring that Sam could get through to her this evening, though. Hell, she’d probably sprint to the phone when she found out who it was calling her after all these years. If all went as he hoped, they could go to the stable tomorrow to check out the filly one last time and then she could wire the money directly to his creditors on Monday morning after the papers were signed. But he had to have a verbal agreement this evening. This evening was crucial. He had to know before midnight. Before he had to make his choice. Before he had to break his own heart.
* * *
The ballroom was packed and abuzz with excitement. Chas took a long drink of champagne and eyed the door. Sam was late. A trickle of sweat tickled his temple. Dabbing at it with his napkin, he looked around. The waiters had already begun serving the meal. Looking at his watch for about the sixtieth time in as many minutes, he leapt to his feet. “I’ll just go check on what’s keeping the last member of our party. Be back in a minute.”
Just as Chas made it through the doorway, Sam strolled up, looking about as concerned as a night watchman at a monastery. “I was beginning to think you’d changed your mind,” Chas said, turning and leading the way into the ballroom.
“No. Just running late,” Sam said, following him.
“The meal’s just being served. Our table’s up front in the V.I.P. section.” He looked at his watch again. When was he going to get a chance to talk to Sam now? He’d been counting on using the time before dinner to find a quiet corner to spill his guts and ask his favor.
“Here he is. My surprise number ten.” Chas said, he hoped not too heartily. “Better late than never.” Turning to Sam, he explained, “We put you between Delilah and her sister.” Actually, we hadn’t, Delilah had, and by the time Chas had found out, it was too late to make changes without causing a scene. Besides, he had a much larger matter looming over his head at the moment.
His eyes tracked around the table and stopped short on Isadora and her mother, both of whom wore matching looks of horror on their faces.
“Absolutely not. You’ll sit next to me,” Eudora trumpeted. “Move, Isadora.”
“Oh, but that will destroy the symmetry,” Sam said.
Chas smiled in spite of himself. Leave it to Sam to know exactly how to put the old witch in her place.
Sam dashed around to the vacant chair next to his college sweetheart and sat down, effectively thwarting Eudora’s preemptive strike and Chas resumed his own place between Dee and his father.
* * *
An hour later, the meal over, Chas set his jaw at the grating sound of Eudora’s voice plucking his tightly strung nerves. “Come to the powder room Delilah, your coiffure needs touching up,” she said and stood up. “You must come along, too, Isadora.”
“No thank you, mother,” Isadora said.
“Hmph.”
“I’ll be right back, darling,” Delilah told Chas, her dulcet voice at first a balm and elixir, but ultimately a heartrending reminder of all he would lose. He watched her rise, his eyes following her gracefully swaying progress as she accompanied her stepmother across the ballroom toward the exit.
“So Chas,” Sam said, “You and I should compare notes sometime.”
Chas’s gaze didn’t stray. “Oh, yeah? About what?” he said absently.
“Why, our Izzy, of course. She’s a real wildcat in bed, don’t you agree?”
The words penetrated his abstraction and Chas’s head whipped around. His eyes went straight to Isadora and her eyes told him everything he needed to know. He sent a feral glare Sam’s way.
She bolted from her seat, nearly knocking it over. “I see a friend I need to speak with,” she said and hurried away.
Chas rose to his feet, fists clenched at his side. “I think we’d better take this discussion outside.”
His friend sat forward, dropping his face in his hands. “No need. I’m an asshole. I admit it.”
Chas’s eyes widened in disbelief and wonder. Sam was still in love with Isadora. Chas relaxed his stance. Of course, it didn’t make what he’d said all right, but it certainly made it more forgivable. Chas gave him a one-sided smile. “Yeah, you are.”
Sam let out a weary sigh. “I shouldn’t have said that, I’m sorry.”
“It’s not me you need to apologize to, it’s Isadora.”
Sam’s eyes swung in the direction of the balcony and he stood up. “When you’re right, you’re right.”
Chas shook his head as he watched him stride off. He held about as much hope for Sam and Isadora as Chas held for himself and Dee at this point. He lifted his champagne to take a sip and curled his lip. What he needed was a real drink. He walked out of the ballroom toward the cash bar. No matter how desperate he was, after what had just transpired with Sam, it was clear that the timing was not right to beg a favor from the guy. His love, it seemed, was doomed.
* * *
Delilah was still readjusting her garter and stockings in the furthest stall of the powder room after Eudora had finally deigned Delilah’s hair presentable again and left, when a couple of familiarly catty voices entered the room a moment before their owners. Isadora’s friends. Great.
“Did you notice the ring she’s wearing?”
Delilah rolled her eyes, feeling pity for whomever the spiteful felines were tearing apart this time.
“Yeah,” the other said with a sniff, “I don’t think it’s even two carats.”
“Nooo! That’s not what I meant,” the first one said, her voice lowering in conspiracy with each new word she uttered. “Don’t you remember? That’s the ring Chas gave his last fiancée. We met her at the Freemont party last February.”
Delilah’s heart stumbled and sank. Her lungs closed up. Her knees turned to jelly. She leaned against the stall door for support.
With a tinge of derision, the first one continued, “She waved it under our noses like it was the Hope diamond or something.”
The other one cackled with glee. “Ohmygod! You’re right!” And then in a whisper that carried in the tiled chamber, “Do you think she knows?”
“Surely not—but with that one, who knows? She may have been so grateful to be asked, that she didn’t care that he gave her his last one’s castoff.” Evidently done with whatever primping they’d been about, the two left just as quickly as they came.
Delilah wanted to cry, but she didn’t. She wanted to rip the dress she’d spent so many hours picking out—with Chas in mind—off her body and stomp on it, but she didn’t do that either. Instead she fisted her hand on the door of the stall and scowled at the ring on her finger. He’d lied to get access to her money. That, she could deal with. In fact, in and of itself, it wasn’t enough to prove malignance. But this—this was worse, far worse. He’d given her another woman’s engagement ring. That showed a lack of feeling for her—a lack of respect—at a level of which she’d not seen from anyone since her father’s trial. He didn’t just not love her—he had no regard for her whatsoever. When she thought about how she’d lapped up his every false word this morning, convincing her that he adored her, adored her body, it made her stomach tremble with fury. To him, she was no more significant than a bug to be squashed.
A frigid calmness entered her and took up residence. I’m worth more than that. With slow purpose, she unclenched her hand and slid the ring from her finger. The only indication that underneath her stoic façade an inferno blazed, came when the door to the powder room banged and bounced against the wall as she strode through it. She was out for blood.
* * *