Dancing on the Wind (34 page)

were blue ribbons and medals for swimming and track as well as gymnastics.

“I’m impressed,” he said then moved on to look at the stacks of records, books and

whatnots that littered her room. He glanced around. “Obviously you weren’t the neat

freak back then that you are now.”

She grinned. “No, I wasn’t into housekeeping.” She giggled. “He was my main

crush.” She pointed to a door hung with a full-length poster of Harrison Ford as Hans

Solo.

“Him I understand,” he said and put his arms around her. “Who’s your main crush

now, babe?”

All the weeks of wanting him so desperately had not truly been sated in the

restroom of the plane. She wanted to be able to touch him, to run her hands all over his

tall, muscular body. She wanted him to take her leisurely and she wanted to be able to

feel the delicious weight of his body upon hers.

“What?” he asked as she pushed him back.

“Come with me,” she said, and took his hand to lead him out of the room.

They left her room, moved down the hallway until they came to another door that

she flung open without a moment’s thought. As she led him through the tastefully

decorated room, he knew it had to be her mother’s personal inner sanctum. The salary

he received in a year’s time would not have replaced the expensive furnishings

contained within its walls.

“What are you doing?” he asked as she headed for what he knew must be her

mother’s bathroom.

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“I am going to rape, ravage and pillage you, lineman,” she said. “In my mother’s

precious bathtub.”

Bathtub?
he questioned as she pushed open the door, reached inside to turn on the

lights then took him through a large expanse of marble vanity with twin sinks, toilet

and bidet, huge enclosed glass-block tiled shower and into a room nearly as big as his

entire bedroom at the Exchange dormitory.

“Shit,” he breathed.

The room had three floor-to-ceiling glass walls that looked out over a private,

secluded garden filled with lush foliage and marble statues, effectively lit from ground

level. Overhead, the ceiling was a solid pane of glass above which the stars in the night

twinkled and the waning moon shone. From copper pots suspended from brass chains

and attached to brackets on the windows fell lush cascades of potted plants. On each

corner was a miniature palm. Under foot was a thick dark green carpet that looked like

immaculately groomed grass. The lights that twinkled from strips along each window

frame reflected in the glass. Beyond the windows in the garden was a tropical waterfall,

and the sound of it could be heard in the bathroom along with the gentle, low clink of a

bass wind chime.

But the
pièce de résistance
was the huge sunken garden bathtub that sat in the center

of the room.

Carved from beige travertine marble, the fixture was twelve feet square with a brass

railing and steps down into the gently bubbling water. The spigot and controls looked

like real gold and when Keenan informed him they were, Fallon shook his head.

“This room cost more to build and furnish than most people’s homes,” he said.

“Didn’t it?”

“I imagine so,” Keenan agreed. She was busy lighting the scores of amber-colored

glass votives that sat on a long strip of mirror behind the tub. The air held the scent of

gardenia as the scented candles flamed.

In a large wicker basket was a stack of plush white towels, and when she was

finished lighting the candles, Keenan withdrew two, placed them at one end of the tub

and told her lover to strip.

“Nice and slow, bad boy. I want to enjoy the show,” she said as she took a seat

tailor fashion on the floor.

Fallon grinned then slowly, inch by inch, tugged the tail of his shirt from his pants.

He’d taken off his boots in the den just as his lady had kicked off her own shoes and

had stuffed his socks inside. As he crossed his arms over his chest to pull the partially

unbuttoned shirt over his head, he felt his groin tighten with anticipation. He could feel

the heaviness building and with it the desire.

Keenan leaned back on her elbows as his shirt came off. “Stand still,” she said when

he dropped the garment carelessly to the floor.

He obeyed, feeling a bit foolish yet aroused with his hands at his sides, his legs

slightly spread. He could feel her gaze sliding over his chest and his nipples hardened

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just from the thought of her touching them. Some wild part of him wanted her to pinch

them hard, bite them, and at that wayward thought, his cock pulsed hard against his

pants.

“Now very slowly unzip your pants,” she ordered.

With infinite care, he put his hands to the button of his fly and undid it, spreading

the waistband apart. He gradually tugged the slider of his zipper down inch by

agonizing inch until all the teeth were separated and the slider rested on the bottom

stop.

“What now, warden?” he asked in a husky tone.

“Hook your thumbs inside your waistband and slide them ever so slowly down

your hips,” she instructed.

Doing just that, he began to work the tight jeans over his lean hips. Down past the

waistband of his black boxers, over his hipbones and onto the hard plane of his thighs.

“Stop,” she said, and sat up. She walked on her knees over to him and looked up

into his bemused face. “Move your hands.”

He took his thumbs from the jeans and let his arms hang loosely at his sides once

more.

Keenan reached up and took hold of the waistband of the jeans and began to lower

them, pushing the fabric down his thighs, past his knees and onto his ankles.

“Step out,” she said, and he did, watching as she tossed the garment aside.

Clad only in his boxer shorts, he remained still as she swept her eyes over him from

bare feet to head, back again, and then like the needle on a scale fluctuating from one

number to another before finally settling on just one. When her attention rested, it

locked on the bulge between his legs. She leaned forward and pressed her lips to the

swelling, blowing her warm breath through the fabric.

Fallon sucked in a breath. He hadn’t felt anything as erotic in a long time. The hot,

damp air issuing from her mouth spread under his balls and he shivered, his hands

going to her head as she continued to exhale on his hardening flesh.

Slowly working the boxers down until she had uncovered his abdomen, she ran one

hand beneath the loose leg band of the undergarment and slid it between his legs.

“Ah God, Keenan,” he whispered, closing his eyes and letting his head fall back.

His thigh muscles were quivering as she kneaded him in counter rhythm to the hot

breath she was blowing against his cock. The cheeks of his ass tightened.

Smiling to herself, she plucked at the fabric of his boxers until his cock sprang from

the fly.

“Look what I found,” she said.

He could feel her staring intently at his cock and lowered his head, opened his eyes.

Seeing her lick her lips was almost his undoing, he warned her with a low growl.

Keenan sat back on her heels, eased her hands from the boxers then drew them

down his legs. She didn’t need to tell him to step out for he did so, shunting them off to

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one side with the edge of his foot. He was breathing heavily, loudly, the air going in

and out of his lungs much quicker than was normal.

She looked up into his beautiful male face. “Spread your legs,” she whispered.

His jaw clenched. His fists clenched, but he did as told. “You’re playing with fire,”

he cautioned her.

“I know.”

Leaning forward again, she began to blow slow, hot breaths on the straining head

of his cock. With each rub of her palm, her middle finger moved closer to his anus and

each time it did, his ass cheeks tensed.

“Keenan,” he said, drawing the name out. He was digging his nails into his palms,

his legs feeling weaker by the second.

One moment she was kneeling at his feet and the next she was standing before him,

ordering him into the tub.

“Now?” he asked, wanting to throw her to the floor and slam into her hot cunt.

“Into. The. Tub,” she said.

Teeth clenched, he moved over to the rail, took hold of it and stepped down into the

water, amazed at how hot it was and the silky feel of it lapping at his legs.

She took her time taking off her clothing. The dress had a long row of buttons down

the front. She unbuttoned each one slowly, leisurely flicking the two edges of the dress

apart. Once it was undone, she shrugged out of it and it slithered to the floor in a silken

pool.

Fallon swallowed convulsively. “You know you’re torturing me, don’t you,” he

said in a gruff voice.

Her breasts were full and firm, the cleavage deep as she reached around behind her

to unhook her bra. The push of her flesh against the cups of the bra made his shaft weep

and he realized he had reached the point where he was almost panting, eager to be

buried deep inside her. Staring at those beautiful globes as they came free of their

confinement, Fallon heard a groan escape his lips. Beneath the water, his shaft leapt, his

balls tightened and heat drove straight through his groin.

Keenan slid her hands beneath the waistband of her silk bikini briefs and pushed

them down her long, shapely legs.

With regal grace she stepped down into the water and moved to sit across from him

on the opposite bench.

He moved so quickly she gasped, gliding across the water and onto her. Wedging

her legs apart, he settled himself atop her and grabbed a handful of hair to draw her

head back, slanting his mouth ruthlessly on hers, kissing her deep and hard and

thoroughly.

Keenan put her arms around him as their tongues performed a heady mating

dance. He ground his lower body against hers. His lips slid to her ear, he flicked his

tongue into the depths then clamped her earlobe gently between his teeth.

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He trailed kisses along her cheek and down her neck, planting a long kiss to the

hollow of her throat where a vein pulsed wildly. He moved on to her shoulders and

across the upper part of her chest then ducked his head beneath the tumbling waters to

latch his lips greedily upon her nipple.

Keenan buried her fingers in his hair and laid her head back along the tub’s rim as

he suckled her. His tongue was sweeping across the engorged tip and his nibbling teeth

were causing wicked things to happen to her lower body. He had good breath control

for he moved on to her other breast and lavished just as much attention there before

popping out of the water, flinging his wet hair, droplets flying. His hands were still on

her breasts, his thumbs having taken over for his tongue as he flicked them back and

forth over the sensitive nubs.

Fallon pushed her back upon the ledge and spread her thighs wide as he scooted

down in the water until he could position his shaft at the opening of her wet folds. With

one firm thrust, he impaled her and began working his hips as her arms and legs

wrapped around him. His hands beneath her rump, he increased the depth and force of

his drives until they were both grunting and the water was splashing over the sides of

the tub.

Though her backbone was being bruised against the tub’s side from the power of

his thrusts, Keenan didn’t care. The pleasure was building inside her and beginning to

spiral out of control. She could feel the heat flooding her belly, the itch beginning, the

frantic need elevating within her lover. His fingers were digging into her buttock, but

none of that mattered. She squeezed her legs tight around him, dug her own fingernails

into his ravaged back then clamped her teeth onto his shoulder.

“God!” he exclaimed, and jerked. His rutting rose to a violent level as he pounded

into her, his cock rigid and driving so deep she could feel it pressing against her womb.

When he came, he came so hard he nearly convulsed, shuddering fiercely.

Keenan felt him pouring into her and reveled in that feeling, her cunt pulsing

around him as her own climax came. She made a slight squealing noise and clung to

him even more as wave after delicious wave undulated through her. His weight was

solid against her, his groin slapping against hers as he tried to prolong her pleasure

even as the last of his energy and lust was spent. It was good her arms were secure

around him when the last spasm left her or else he would have slid boneless beneath

the rippling water.

“Sweet merciful God” he mumbled, and she could feel the pounding of his heart

against her chest. “Much more of that and I’ll be a dead man.”

She held him to her with one hand and with the other, pushed the wet hair from his

eyes. “Liked that I take it?”

He grunted in answer, his eyes closed as he labored to get his breath and heartbeat

under control.

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“As much as I’d like us to be in here when Mama gets home, I’m starting to look

like a prune,” she said, holding her wrinkled palm up. “Let’s take the rest of this to my

room.”