Authors: Elizabeth Lowe
When finished, with a
startling strength and swiftness scooping her into his arms he carried her to
the bed.
As soon as he tossed her onto
the mattress, he was on top, his knees parting her legs wide, his hands cuffing
her wrists above her head.
His tongue
dove into her mouth, doing what he had done to the other end.
His lips and tongue finding her nipples
licked and sucked driving her mad with desire.
He was rock hard again, larger than before, inside her riding her at
stampede speed.
She tried to match him,
but could not.
He was in control.
She wondered if those in the other rooms
heard them, he did not bother muffling her screams or his. Apparently, he did
not care that the headboard was bagging the wall, the mattress squeaking
either.
Surprisingly embarrassed it was
her hand covering her mouth to muffle repeated screams when her fingers and
nails from the other dug into his buttocks forcing him deeper, hanging on for
dear life wanting him to stop one second and yet afraid he would the next.
Never would she have
believed, a night could be so long, a man his age could have so much stamina
enabling one climax after another.
Shocked by his demands she was, of all people, and though ached all
over, and was sore, she would never regret the night, nor forget it.
Once believing Brad was her best lover,
Peter took over the title.
He was the
stud of all studs, making her want him again, and again.
Now all she had to do was convince him he
wanted her.
Cinderella’s night at the
ball was not over yet.
CHAPTER 31
“NOVEMBER, 2010”
Sunday
mornings’ sunrise had just begun to kiss the peaks of skyscrapers while Stacy
slumbered on.
At the metallic sound of a
key unlocking the door and footsteps, she awakened.
Her heartbeat quickened.
Considering Ted was the only one with a key
and he was in Southampton, she relaxed, enveloped her face in a pillow, and
began to doze off.
Seconds
later, she felt the comforter lifted followed by a manly body slithering next
to her.
The hands covering her breasts
were familiar as was the moist lips beginning to splay kisses on her shoulder
and neck.
Turning she greeted the intruder
with a welcome kiss.
Sunday was a
perfect day to linger in bed in the arms of a man full of desire.
.............………………………………………………………......................................................................................................................................................................................................................................
The
sunlight warmed Sam's cheek.
She woke
tangled in the bedclothes and lumpy pillows that had met her frustrations head
on during the night.
It was a new day,
the first day she concluded at some point during the night while twisting and
turning.
She was going to collect the
scattered remnants of her mind.
The
possibility of being in love with one man and wanting another so wantonly was
ridiculous.
She was a mass of confusion,
that's all.
The music, wine, dancing and
her newly awakened desires were playing tricks. Well, no longer.
After
slipping into jade colored sweats and stuffing feet into sneakers, she ran
downstairs to find Ted assuming he had spent the night on the couch.
Discovering the sofa barren, she went out
onto the deck to look for his limousine in the driveway.
It was gone.
An
uneasy feeling that someone was watching her spun her around.
Inside the gazebo, a man was in the hammock,
a long leg dangling over the edge, the upper torso completely covered with a
burgundy tuxedo jacket, the face protruding from the collar, unmistakable.
Alarmed
by the noise, attempting to roll onto his side Brad tumbled onto the hard
wooden deck.
His hands flew to his head to
halt the beating of the drum rolling inside, an amusing mishap that prompted
uncontrollable laughter to spring from Sam's throat.
Rising
up slightly, he spouted, “That's a hell of a note.
Do you always react that way when someone
gets hurt?
How can you stand there
laughing when I could have broken something?”
Sam
wondered why each time she saw Brad, despite his appearance, she melted like
snow on a warm tongue.
Dangling
precariously over his forehead was an abused mop of curls. An overabundant crop
of black sprigs peeking from a half open, crinkled shirt shadowed his chiseled
face.
Glassy, blood shot eyes were more
prominent due to a pale complexion, all telltale signs of a nasty hangover.
Fighting a compulsion to run to his rescue,
words tripping over giggles rescued her.
“I'm sorry.
I can't help it. I
can assure you however, you did not break anything of great importance.”
Saucy little imp, Brad mused.
As bad as he felt, her laughter wrinkled his
mouth with amusement.
With great
difficulty, he attempted to stand.
With a quizzical look, “Do you
usually sleep in a tux?”
Wearing a sheepish grin, he answered,
“Only on Saturday nights.”
“I see, in a hammock, outdoors, in
November?”
“Nope, but it wasn't half bad.
Believe me I certainly didn't want for fresh
air.”
With a sidelong glance, Sam noticed
the empty bottle of whiskey on the floor.
“You didn't drink all that by yourself did you?”
“Me!
No mame, my chipmunk friends helped.”
Brad looked precious, like a
mischievous child who had gotten into a chocolate bar trying to hide the
evidence smeared all over his grinning face.
There was no suppressing the bubbles of laughter percolating inside. “I
suppose they are the ones who just pushed you out of the hammock.”
Lifting the hammock
to look under, he replied, “You mean they are still here.”
With an adorable,
broad smile tilting the corners of her mouth, Sam retorted, “God, you're
impossible.
Can you make it inside?”
Like a newborn fawn,
Brad tried his legs, again unsuccessfully.
“Certainly, if you just hold this dam deck still.”
“Then follow me, I
believe you could use lots of strong coffee and some pain reliever.
That is your recipe for a hangover isn't it?”
“Yep, except first
you need to put your arm around me and help me up.”
Watching Brad stand and take a few
wobbling strides Sam thought how completely alluring he was.
Again, he was doing it, she warned
herself.
It would be suicide to touch
him, or worse, allow him to touch her for even an insignificant graze might
scramble her wits.
Wearing a smile that
lit up her eyes, she quickly uttered, “Wrong!
Why don't you call upon your friends that helped you drink that poison?”
“Right now they're not feeling too
well either.”
Recognizing a reprimanding
look when he saw one, thanks to Maggie and his mom's expertise in that
department, Brad moaned, “You can't fault a guy for trying can you?”
After preparing the
coffee, then pouring a large mug placed in front of him, Sam turned to
leave.
Brad’s voice halted
her retreat before she reached the stairs.
“He's not here.”
Uncertain she had
heard correctly, “Say again.”
“Ted isn't here.
I heard him leave at five this morning.
There's a note for you on the desk.”
Imagining all the sweet words littering
the paper, Brad could not rationalize for the life of him why one minute Ted
behaved as though he didn't trust him near Sam, then the next runs off leaving
her behind at, so to speak, the wolfs' door.
Moving to the antique, rolled top
desk claiming most of one wall, Sam lifted a white envelope taped to the
top.
The note explained if Ted were to
spend Thanksgiving in Southampton he had some important business to clear up
first.
Finding it difficult to believe,
she felt her face begin to burn from anger.
Ted should have told her his plans before she had no choice but to
remain with the demon himself.
Isolated for four days, terrific,
what did I do to deserve this torture, Brad sputtered inwardly.
Frantically searching what remained of his faculties
for things to do to keep his mind and body off Sam he suddenly remembered the
recreation room in the basement furnished with equipment ages ago.
Costing a fortune, he had outfitted the cozy
room with a pool and Ping-Pong table, dartboard, television and DVD player, a
library of favorite movies, a pinball machine, a jukebox, and an antique
theater popcorn machine.
Inconsequential
materialistic possessions he believed one day there would be time to enjoy. Instead,
they sat dormant covered with sheets since their purchase.
If they were going to be alone, there was no
better time to put them to use than now.
Resigned to their circumstances,
both secretly committed themselves to relaxing and enjoying the next few
days.
After all, what did they have to
be afraid of anyway?
Following Brad's first cold shower,
he met Sam in the kitchen clad in jeans, a sweatshirt, and sneakers.
After eating a light breakfast, touring the
grounds soothed their nerves sufficiently to prompt casual conversation.
It was as if the unblemished weather
knew the importance of keeping their minds and bodies busy, the sun brilliant,
the air fragrant with the pungent smells of autumn.
The beauty of natures’ gifts made it
difficult to believe it was a season of death considering a sense of birth
seemed to tug at their senses from merely being together in a companionable
way.
Neither Brad nor Sam had any idea
how far they had walked or what scenery had unfolded. They had become engrossed
in reminiscing about home, their childhood, and families.
Separately they mused about their
similarities, their common love of nature, animals, space, quiet, music, all
aiding in drawing them into a magical world of their own and making the days
roll along lazily lending an atmosphere prompting them to raise the curtain
hiding their inner selves.
While reminiscing, Brad realized the
very things he desired to leave behind in Wyoming as a young man were now
drawing him back.
Listening to Brad's
rendition of why he came to New York made Sam wonder if her plans to be a
successful designer would place the same burdens upon her that were now
compelling Brad to return to his roots.
Like playful children, they raked
leaves challenging each other as to who could make the highest pile.
Each time she turned her back Brad stole some
from hers.
Discovering his prank, she
shoved him into his.
His hand shooting
out seized her ankle causing both to roll down the hill.
Plucking leaves from their clothes and hair,
they laughed until their stomach muscles begged for mercy.
The picnic table on the deck became a
favored place to luncheon.
Meanwhile, in
the bushes chipmunks patiently waited ready to perform their antics so generous
portions of leftovers would reward them.
There was only one afternoon, when
the murky skies and drizzling rain forced them inside.
Exhausted from using all of the equipment,
Sam popped corn while Brad blended crazy fruit concoctions.
The remainder of the afternoon they spent
settled into separate recliners watching “An Affair to Remember, “Brads’
favored love story.