A Million Dirty Secrets (27 page)

There was a timid knock on the door to my study, and then it opened wide. Delaine positioned herself there rather seductively, her arms stretched above her head as she arched her back against the door frame. Her wet hair was tossed back off her shoulders and her long legs were angled so that one was bent at the knee. She was wearing black wrap-around heels, the cuff with my family’s crest, one of my black dress ties, and nothing else.

“I’m sorry, am I disturbing you?” Her voice was a purr of erotic lust. She seductively fingered the tie that hung loosely in the valley of her fuckawesome tits. “I can leave if you want.”

My heart thumped erratically in my chest, and I was sure my mouth had to be hanging open. She was a vixen, a porn star … a goddess.

My cock strained against the zipper of my suddenly too tight khaki pants, all the blood having raced there within a millisecond.
I thought for a moment that maybe my little soldier was trying to burrow a hole so that he could have a look-see for himself, but that couldn’t actually happen—could it? I was quickly learning that whenever Delaine was around, anything was possible.

“Crawford?” Sherman’s voice was a vague echo in the background. My focus was trained completely on my million-dollar baby, her body the siren distracting me from my previous obsession. She was all that mattered. Everything else faded into nothingness.

“I was just in the shower and, well, all that hot water was washing over my skin with the most delicious pressure, and it made me think about your body pressed against mine and that magical thing you do with your fingers … and your tongue …” She closed her eyes and reclined her head while caressing her bare throat with one hand, the other slipping between her legs as she sighed. “I need you to touch me.”

“Helloooo? Are you still there, Crawford?”

I shook off the haziness the best I could and cleared my throat as I forced myself to look away from her. “Um, yeah. I have someone, er, something to do. Call me first thing in the morning.”

I didn’t wait for a response before I hung up the phone. He’d call me because he wanted to get paid. And I figured I’d gone more than two weeks without knowing the information I wanted, so surely I could wait ten more hours.

With lightning speed, I was standing in front of Delaine with both hands fisted on the door frame above her. I didn’t dare touch for fear I might bruise or break her. “You can’t fucking say stuff like that without—”

Unable to finish my thought because she was standing there, all sinfully naked and smelling wickedly aroused, I lost all resolve and sank down on one knee, perching one of her delicate feet on my shoulder before I leaned in to give her the tongue-lashing of her life. Of course it was merely a punishment for interrupting such an important business call. It was going to hurt me far worse than it was going to hurt her.

Yeah, even I called bullshit.

“Uh-uh-uh.” She pushed ever so slightly on my shoulder with the spiked heel of her shoe to force me to sit back away from her. “So I was just wondering … You don’t happen to play piano, do you? Because I found this sexy little black number downstairs, in what I assume is your music room, and I was thinking about how incredibly erotic it would be if I were to be, oh, I don’t know—on display for you while you played for me. I mean, take a look at this black tie. I am dressed formally, after all.”

’Nuff motherfucking said.

Without uttering a word—because, like I said, none were needed—I threw her over my shoulder and headed toward what she so adequately called my music room. The acoustics in there were even better than the acoustics in the foyer, and I couldn’t wait to hear the echo of her screaming my name. And she would definitely scream.

Men were so predictable.

All I had to do was show up virtually naked and insinuate I wanted a little bit of attention, and I had him eating out of the
palm of my hand. Well, maybe it wasn’t exactly the palm of my hand that he wanted to eat out of, but either way, I got the desired result.

I’d been thinking about the whole cheating-whore-of-an-ex-girlfriend thing that Polly had told me about earlier, and I was determined to shower him with the attention he craved, to make sure he knew that I was all about him. Because when it came right down to it, that was the whole reason he’d stooped so low as to buy a woman in the first place. I was a sure thing: guaranteed to cater to his every whim and desire, guaranteed to want him and
only
him.

Not that I was complaining. Sure, I should have been disgusted with myself for basically being a willing participant, and I was—to an extent. But I was a woman with needs that I hadn’t ever realized I had before all this began, needs that were most certainly being met by a man who under normal circumstances would’ve been able to get me into his bed without having to ask twice. Besides, I’d signed on for this, right? I’d known what I was getting myself into. Actually enjoying the “work” had to be an added perk. I mean, I could’ve just as easily been stuck with Jabba the Hut.

The Cooch was nodding emphatically in agreement until I had to go and mention that fat, nasty bastard, which sent a shiver down her spine.

Noah threw me over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and I giggled like a school girl when he turned his face and nipped me on the ass with those gorgeous white teeth of his. Apparently I wasn’t the only one with an ass-biting fetish.

We finally made it into the music room. I could tell because
his saber-toothed purr had become more like a constant humming vibration that I not only heard but felt. As gently as he could, he sat me on top of his baby grand and stood between my parted knees.

“This what you had in mind?” His voice was a deep, sultry rumble that traveled through his body and out through his hands, which were perched on the piano on either side of me. I actually felt the vibration of it against my girlie bits, making me reminisce about my new bestie, the Crawford bullet.

“Actually, I was thinking something more along the lines of you sitting on the bench, letting those talented fingers of yours molest the ivories,” I said while running my hands up and down his chest. “You think you can do that for me, Noah? Play me a little something inspired by the vision of my … your … pussy?”

I pressed my lips to his reverently, but he made no move. He was still as a statue, an Adonis of a statue. I had begun to think that maybe my dirty talking hadn’t come off as sultry as I’d hoped when he leaned in closer to my ear and whispered.

“Delaine?”

“Hmm?”

“I think I just came a little.” Before I could formulate a response, he pulled away abruptly and went to sit on the piano bench.

With my chin perched on my shoulder and angled toward him, I watched his hands softly skate over the keys without making a sound. The look in his eyes was one of pure awe and concentration, a man who obviously revered his instrument. I
couldn’t blame him; I thought his “instrument” was pretty awe-inspiring myself.

He licked his lips and shifted to a more comfortable position before he looked back at me expectantly. “You promised you’d provide the inspiration if I’d play.”

One problem: if I tried to swing my ass around on his glossy piano, which was nowhere near as slick as it looked, it was more than probable that there would be some skin squeakage. And I just didn’t know if my dignity could handle a major blow of embarrassment like that when I was trying to be sexy and seductive. So I did the only thing I could.

I hopped down, amazingly remaining upright on the insanely high hooker heels that I was wearing (the Cooch had picked them out because they matched the nearly-there outfit), and then strutted my nearly naked ass toward Noah, channeling every runway walker I could remember from the countless fashion shows my mom had forced me to watch.

I think I was pretty successful at it, because Noah eyed me like he was a wolf in one of those Looney Tunes cartoons, licking his chops like I was a prized lamb. Feeling probably more confident than I should have been, I put one foot up on the bench beside him. You know how they say, “If looks could kill …”? Yeah, well if looks could feel you up, I swear that was exactly what Noah had done to my legs, my ass, my boobs, and the Cooch—heck, his eyes had just as many appendages as an octopus.

Speaking of puss, mine was positively sopping wet. Go figure. It wasn’t because Double Agent Coochie was salivating; it was because the twisted slut was crying tears of joy over what
she knew was to come. Well, lots of tears, actually. So I made a big show of perching my ass on the top of his piano again and crossing my legs to conceal that little fact. Even though I’d come to learn that was a major turn-on for Noah, I wanted to tease him a little bit. After all, he needed some incentive to give me what I wanted before I gave him what he wanted.

Noah looked up at me and then slowly began to undo the studded buckle that was wrapped around my ankle. When he was done, he leisurely pulled my shoe off and placed a lingering kiss on the top of my foot.

“Can’t have these on my ivory babies, kitten,” he said in a hushed voice as he dropped my bare foot and went to work on my other shoe. “By the way, remind me to give Polly a raise.”

“Just buy her a pair of these bad boys, and she’ll say you’re even.”

Placing my shoes down on the floor beside him, he kissed a trail along my shin until he reached my knees. Then he pushed them apart and set my feet directly on the keys, as far on each end as they would stretch. The sound that came from them depressing the keyboard was really quite hideous and we both cringed at the same time, but then he was eyeing the Cooch and that expression changed quick, fast, and in a hurry.

“I fucking love how wet you get for me.” The Cooch was busy oiling herself up and spraying Binaca in her mouth, warming up for the big show. “You should probably know that no one has ever laid a finger on my baby grand, Delaine, let alone their feet.”

“I’m sorry. I can move them,” I said, but before I could lift so much as a pinky toe, he stopped me.

“Don’t.” The quiet stillness of his voice carried more weight than if he had barked the order.

Noah never took his eyes away from my center as he rolled the sleeves of his shirt up to his elbows. When he was done, he straightened his back and curved his shoulders in slightly to position his fingers on the keys.

“Um, I haven’t played in a while,” he said nervously with a shrug of a shoulder. “So I might be a little rusty.”

I already knew that. Right before Noah had called to tell me to be in the car when Samuel picked him up from work, Polly had phoned to check on me. We talked for quite some time while I wandered around the house. That was when I had stumbled upon the room we were in. That was also when Polly had told me that he used to play all the time before the whole Julie debacle. When she told me that she didn’t think he’d played since, I knew I had to at least try to get him to again. After all, they said music soothed the savage beast. I wasn’t so sure I wanted him soothed right before he fucked the life out of me, mostly because I thought he needed to release some pent-up frustration or rage or whatever, but maybe if he got reacquainted with something that had made him happy once upon a time, it would still be all good.

Was it risky? Yes. But I figured if I had any chance whatsoever at succeeding, appealing to his sexual nature was definitely the way to do it. Polly thought I might be a weak spot for Mr. Crawford, and while I had no intention of exploiting that tidbit of knowledge for personal gain, I definitely wasn’t going to deny myself any pleasure that might come my way from helping him learn to live again.

I was a puddle of goo the moment he made that piano sing the first chord. His fingers moved quickly and expertly along the keys, stringing together a melody that I didn’t think I’d ever heard before but which was beautiful nonetheless. I was afraid for the cleanliness of his piano, because if he kept playing like that, I’d come big-time, without him even having to touch me. Although, I guess in a way, he was; the fingers making that beautiful music that was vibrating through the piano and across my girlie bits belonged to him, after all.

“Lean back on your elbows, kitten,” he said without missing a note.

At least I didn’t think he missed a note. It wasn’t like I was any kind of expert at that type of thing, but it sounded right. More than right, really; it was erotic. I wouldn’t exactly call it a soundtrack to a porn flick, but considering that music was obviously another extension of Noah—much like his fingers, his tongue, and his colossal cock—it made sense that, by extension, it would rock my pussy also. It more than rocked my pussy, in fact. It moved me, made me feel things that were probably illegal in forty-eight states. Plus, the way his digits worked those keys, it was obvious where he’d gotten the practice in for other things. So I realized that the King of the Finger Fuck had apparently changed his name from the King of the Piano Fuck.

I leaned back on my elbows, but kept my eyes on him. Noah was looking right back at me. And when I say he was looking right back at me, it wasn’t the Cooch. It was me, my eyes. He was looking at me so intensely I thought I might spontaneously combust.

And then it happened.

Without breaking eye contact or interrupting the sexy little ditty he was playing, he leaned forward and placed a kiss right over my clit. My jaw hinged open as I sucked in a breath and held it while my legs jerked involuntarily. Of course that messed up his angelic song, what with my toes kerplunking on the keys under my feet and all, but Noah just gave me that smug smile and continued on. The only difference between what he was playing before and what he had begun to play was that the notes sounded heavier, more urgent.

He also continued to do that thing he was doing with those luscious lips and serpent-like tongue. His mouth was hot and wet, his lips softly caressing my south mouth while his tongue expertly manipulated every nerve ending in my body from that one spot between my legs.

It wasn’t going to take me long.

The Cooch was warming up her vocal cords, preparing to give the concert of her life. Maybe she couldn’t actually sing, but Noah had made her hum madly over the short amount of time that they’d known each other. All I’m saying is that he was one hell of a vocal coach.