Читать книгу Wedding Vows: Just Married - Nancy Warren - Страница 20

“OH, NO,” she said, seeing where he was going. “Not the plum sauce.” But she was already giggling.

He opened the little cello pack of prepared plum sauce, squeezed some out and painted her nipple with sauce. It felt sticky and cool and when she glanced down her nipple glistened.

To her shock, Dex took his chopsticks and snagged her nipple between them. “What are you…”

He lifted the plump flesh carefully toward his mouth, lowering his head until he could lick plum sauce off the end of her nipple. The sensation was intense: she felt the pressure of the wooden sticks, not squeezing tight, he’d never hurt her, but holding her, as though she were a morsel of food to be offered to his mouth. And then, beside the rigidity of the wood, clamping lightly, came the warm, wet caress of his tongue on her sensitive skin swirling the slick sauce around until she felt herself beginning to melt.

She didn’t even try to protest when he pushed her robe away from her other side and proceeded to squeeze more plum sauce, take her other nipple between chopsticks. Lick and suck her halfway to oblivion.

Her robe was gone. Fallen away, and she didn’t care that it was probably going to be ruined. He trailed plum sauce down her body in unpredictable patterns, following with his tongue.

When he hit her belly, she felt herself growing heavy and liquid with desire as she sat, sprawled on one of her designer kitchen stools.

“Now,” he murmured, “I wonder where else I could use chopsticks.”

“Oh, no, I—”

But he was already slipping her legs apart, and she was offering herself up like a banquet on a Lazy Susan. She watched through heavy lids as he parted her folds, exposing her clit which had no need of plum sauce to glisten.

He came slowly toward her with the chopsticks and she began to tremble.

She could pull away, shut her legs and close up shop, but she didn’t. She watched. Everything about her was plump, including her intimate parts and when he took that most sensitive of her parts gently, ensnaring the root with the chopsticks, she thought she might fall onto the floor so wildly did the sensation rock her.

A strange sound, not moan or sigh, but some combination of both slipped from her mouth. He took the plum sauce, squeezed a dab onto her hot, aching clit. Then he began to lick it off, unbelievably gently because he knew how sensitive she was, how close.

Torture. It was torture. The most amazing, incredible, delicious torture. He wouldn’t let her come. Controlled her as though her body was his, her response his to order.

Those hard, rigid sticks held her in place and that soft, mobile mouth made love to only that one spot.

Slowly.

Delicately.

Exquisitely.

She had her arms stretched out, hanging on to the cold granite countertop, it was the only way she could remain still. But nothing could stop the crazy sounds coming from her throat.

She thought she’d die of pleasure. It would go on forever and she’d never achieve release.

Then, as though he knew she couldn’t take any more, he increased the speed of his movement, upped the pressure slightly and with a wild bucking cry, she exploded in his mouth.

“I need you…in me…NOW!” she yelled, but he was already stepping between her legs, already there, and as he thrust home, she cried out again.

MORNING LIGHT DAPPLED HER BODY as Karen stretched luxuriously, every cell in her body singing the “Hallelujah Chorus.” The gesture pushed her breasts up and Dexter leaned over to kiss them, his face all manly with emerging stubble.

“I didn’t mean to spend the night,” he said.

“I didn’t mean to let you.” This was all too intimate, too familiar. In a minute, he’d suggest they shower together, or she would, and then they’d drink coffee and share the paper. She’d kiss him goodbye and wish him a good day.

“I’d almost forgotten how good we are together,” he murmured.

The memories of the night before made her smile with mingled pleasure mixed with mild embarrassment that she’d been like a sex-crazed maniac last night. “I’ll never look at Chinese food the same way.”

“I’m having those chopsticks bronzed.”

He reached for her breast where the persistent tingling told her her nipples had reacted to the memories. Of course, since he was currently pressed up against her, she could feel that his body had also reacted to the memories of last night.

His mouth closed on her breast. “You still taste like plum sauce. We should take a shower together.”

Yep, right on cue. As though they were still the happily married couple who had sex with their takeout and showered together in the morning. But they weren’t…

Suddenly a wave of mingled grief and rage swamped her, the likes of which she hadn’t experienced since they’d first split up.

If they were so bloody good together, why weren’t they still married?

“Why?” she whispered, knowing he could hear the anguish in her voice.

He raised his head and leaning on one elbow, gazed down at her. “Why what?” She suspected he knew exactly what her question referred to, but she obliged him anyway by expanding her question.

“Why did you cheat on me if we were so good together?”

His fingers traced a pattern down her chest.

A rueful half smile lit his face. “It always comes back to that, doesn’t it? Here’s a question for you. Why were you so quick to jump to a conclusion that was insulting to both of us?”

An inarticulate squeal formed in her throat. She felt the hot wash of betrayal sting her skin. “I saw you. She was half naked in your arms.”

“I know what you saw, I was there. What you didn’t see was me having sex with another woman because it never happened. I had no idea how to handle a nightmare embarrassing situation. She was messed up and needy and drunk or high. What you saw wasn’t me undressing her, it was my trying to get her dressed so I could find you and we could take her home.”

But the image of betrayal was burned on her retina. She could describe every part of the image as though she were describing a scene as it unfolded. “She was kissing you. You had your arms around her and were unzipping her dress.” The anger felt so fresh and raw she wanted to smack him. Wanted to reverse time to the moment he’d arrived yesterday so she could tell him to go away.

“I was trying to zip it up! I’ve told you a hundred times. And she plastered her mouth on mine while I was doing it. Believe me, I wasn’t kissing her back.”

“How can I believe you?” she cried, knowing with all her heart that she wished his words were true, but she’d been cheated on before. So had her mom and her sister. In her experience and that of most women in her life, men weren’t to be trusted.

She remembered her father, how good-looking he’d been and how special she’d felt in his company. He’d traveled a lot on business and the house used to be kind of empty and depressing when he wasn’t there. Her mother always seemed to be in a bad mood. It wasn’t until she’d grown older, and he’d finally left the family for good, that she understood that there was a lot of pleasure mixed in with his business trips.

Men couldn’t help it, her mother hypothesized after the divorce when Karen pelted her with questions. It was part of their genetic makeup to spread their seed as far and wide as possible. Nature or nurture, Karen had sworn to herself that no man would make a fool of her that way, and she’d stuck to her principles.

If she’d been stupid to marry a man who was as good-looking and charming as her father, at least she hadn’t put up with years of lying and cheating like her mother had.

As much as it had hurt her, she’d dumped the lying, cheating scumbag as soon as he showed his true colors.

But oh, she’d had no idea that part of her would be destroyed.

She thought he looked a little sad as he said, “No one can answer that question but you.”

“I even tried to talk to her, you know. After.”

“Who?”

“The model.”

“How did you find her? She didn’t even have a last name.”

“I can be very persistent.” And in some still naive, hopeful part of her she’d wanted the woman to corroborate her husband’s story.

“Wow. I can’t believe you tracked her down.”

Her eyes narrowed. “I don’t hear you getting all excited about how she backed up your story.”

“Because I’m not stupid. If she had, we wouldn’t be here now. We’d still be married.” He shook his head. “Actually, we probably wouldn’t. Some other shadow would have frightened you away.”

“You’re right about one thing. She didn’t corroborate your story.”

He snorted. “So, you’d believe a drunk woman without a last name before you’d believe me.”

“All she told me was that she couldn’t remember anything about that night. By the time I tracked her down she was in rehab.”

“Great. Just great,” he said. “That father of yours sure did a number on you.”

“Don’t you blame my father. He had nothing to do with this. The only mistake I made was in marrying a man just like him.” She pulled the covers up so her breasts were no longer exposed.

He rolled to his back, putting distance between them. She felt cold without his arms around her. “The mistake you made was not believing you hadn’t. It all comes down to trust.”

“You hurt me.”

“You hurt me, too.” He’d never said those words to her before and as she turned to him, she saw that it was true. Whatever he’d done, at least he felt the loss of their marriage. She supposed that was something.

“Some days I wish I’d never met you.”

“I should have made you go to marriage counseling with me,” he said at the same moment.

“There was no point,” she insisted.

He jabbed a finger toward the living room. “Do you think there’s a perfect man in that computer storehouse out there? Some guy who won’t ever come home late or go on business trips with attractive women? What are you going to do? Spend your life savings on private dicks and all your energy on suspicion?”

“No. No, I’m not. I believe there’s a nice man out there who can be faithful.”

“Do you?”

“Mmm-hmm. I won’t set my sights so high this time.”

He rolled over and got back up on his elbow so he could stare down into her face. “Come again?”

“I’ve done a lot of reading since we broke up. There are theories about what makes a successful relationship and one of them is that you should match up with people who are similar status to you.” She shrugged. “So, really good-looking people should stick together and more homely people should go with homely ones. I was always so flattered when you took an interest in me, but I think in the end you’re too good-looking. Too successful.”

He blinked at her, his face darkening with anger. “That is the biggest load of bullshit I’ve ever heard,” he argued, pulling himself up to sitting. “Setting aside the fact that I think you’re beautiful, what does that say about me? In ten years, when you start to age, do I turn you in for a younger model? What about love? What about the old-fashioned idea of sticking together through thick and thin? Better and worse and all that?”

“I don’t know.”

“I don’t know, either.” He rolled out of bed, unconcerned that he was naked. Even though she was angry and confused she couldn’t help but drink in her fill of that tall, buff body and wish things could have turned out differently.

He pulled on his clothes swiftly and efficiently and then walked over to where she sat in bed, watching him.

“Is this really about me being unfaithful or is it about you being insecure?”

“I’m not insecure, I’m realistic.”

He made a dismissive sound. “Tell that to your mirror.”

“I—”

“I didn’t fall in love with a status symbol. I never thought you did, either. I think you’re gorgeous, and successful. I like your curves. Did it ever occur to you that I wasn’t the one who betrayed our marriage?”

“I don’t have any idea what you’re talking about. You can’t make this my fault.”

“I can’t make you see reason.” She thought he’d say more, then he clamped his mouth shut.

“I’ll be back in a couple of weeks. Take care of yourself.”

“You, too.”

He kissed her swiftly. Rose and as he reached the door of her bedroom turned back. “Oh, and you might want to edit that profile before you post it.”