Dazzle The Complete Unabridged Trilogy (133 page)

Slowly he began to ease in and out with steadily mounting
thrusts.

Everything inside her burst into glorious, sparkling life.
Every thrust and retreat hit a raw nerve and sent delicious
ripples of passion through her entire body. The movement
inside her slid and throbbed, and her face shone eagerly as she
gazed up at him. His tempo built as his need became more
urgent, and still clamping her legs tightly to hold him close,
she began to grind her hips, thrashing and rolling and lifting
herself halfway off the bed as she responded with a wild abandon, pushing her hips up and forward to meet his thrusts. Her
face became contorted into a grim mask of concentration;
purring sounds rasped from deep within her throat.

Quickening his ramming thrusts, he dug his fingers into her
buttocks and rode her for all he was worth, throwing himself aggressively into her. His face was grotesque with an unholy
joy. His muscles gleamed as they strained. And still he
triphammered, pounding in and out of her, faster and faster
and faster. The blood was roaring through her and a rushing
sound rose in her ears. Liquid fire erupted within the depths
of her womanhood. Soon he had to explode; surely he couldn't
continue on this way much longer.

But he had incredible staying power.

His frenzy only kept increasing. His assault was that of one
possessed, his thrashing that of an animal gone wild. The
power of his sex dug deeper, and his hips swung sideways
every few strokes, rolling his testicles over her.

She felt as if she were drowning, swirling ever deeper and deeper, ever downward into a delicious maelstrom of mad
ness. Her cries became muffled, and soon she was beyond the
point of crying out. She felt she was going out of her mind,
had ceased to exist as a person, had been turned inside out,
entering her own womb and becoming a creature of pure sen
sations. And then a ululating wail rose slowly in her throat
and issued forth from her lips like the scream of death. Jerome dug ever deeper into her in a final, furious lunge, and exploded into his climax, every part of his body ramming, thrusting, and
pitching.

His breath rushed out of him in an explosive scream which
merged with hers and he bucked against her spasms as they
both burst over the finish line and together went flying off the
edge of sanity.

They clung together as long minutes ticked by, waiting for
their shudders to subside and their breathing to calm. Finally
he slid out of her. Her insides ached mightily but exquisitely.

She looked at him dreamily. 'Wow,' she exclaimed softly.
She shook her head as though to clear it. 'That was something
else. For a while, I wasn't even here.'

He reached for the champagne, took another swig, and
spotted the alarm clock on the bedside cabinet. He swore
under his breath and swung his legs out over the edge of the
bed. 'Damn! It's almost noon.' His penis was still semihard
and a pearl of semen glistened at its tip.

With one catlike movement she tucked her legs under her, closed her hands around his penis, and brought it to her lips.
Her eyes glanced up at him as she flicked off the drop of semen
with her tongue. 'Are you sure the lunch won't wait?'

'I told you.' He went around the room, retrieving his clothes
from the floor. 'I've got to meet with the backers at two.'

She made a face. 'Can't they wait until tomorrow? Then we
could spend the whole day in bed.'

'They're just here for the day,' he said casually. 'They're
leaving for Riyadh in the morning.'

She blinked, her brows furrowing. Then she gave a throaty
laugh. 'I didn't quite catch that. For a moment, I could have
sworn you said Riyadh.'

'That's right, I did.'

Her voice dropped. 'You mean you're making a deal with
Arabs!'

'They're an Arab investment consortium,' he said stiffly. 'Their money's the same colour as anybody else's. Only they
have more of it.'

'You fucking creep!' Without warning, she sprang from the
bed like a cat and her arm blurred through the air. Before he
knew what was happening, her open palm caught him across
the face and cracked like gunfire. He swayed unsteadily for a moment before he regained his balance. His hand flew up to
his burning cheek and he touched the white welt and stared at her. 'What in hell did you do that for?' he asked angrily. 'Now
I'll probably have a bruise.'

'Good.' She raised her head so high that the cords stood out boldly on her neck. 'I did that because you deserve it. I should
do a lot more, but I see now that you're not worth it. I was a
fool to ever get involved with you.'

He stared at her coldly. 'Don't say something you might
regret later on.'

Spinning around, she grabbed the receiver off the phone.
He grabbed it out of her hand and slammed it down. It gave
a shrill half-ring. 'Do you mind explaining what has suddenly
gotten into you?' he demanded.

She stared at him. 'You mean to tell me you don't know?'

'No, goddammit!' he roared. 'What am I supposed to be?
A goddamn clairvoyant?'

'Well, try this on for size.' She squared her shoulders and
the tendons on her neck made a deep V. 'If you so much as touch a penny of Arab money, we're through. For good. I
mean it. I'll leave you.'

He let out an exasperated sigh. 'Simmer down and try to let
me explain.' He reached out to touch her, but she shrank back.

'I only want to know one thing,' she said. 'Do you really
intend to use Arab financing?'

'It's there, isn't it? And for your information, it's not all that
easy to raise seventeen and a half million dollars.'

'
Thank you.' She smiled hideously and her voice trembled.
'Now get your goddamn paws away from the phone. I'm call
ing the concierge to book me a seat on the next flight out.'

'Don't you think you're carrying this Arab vendetta of yours
a little far?'

'Why should you care?' she retorted. 'It's over between us.'

He looked at her in disbelief. 'You mean to tell me you're going to throw eight good years down the drain? Just like
that?'

She held his gaze, her green eyes burning right through his.
'Damn right I am. Or hasn't anyone told you? Jews and Arabs
are like oil and water. They just don't mix.'

'Daliah,' he pleaded, 'please be reasonable. This isn't politi
cal, it's moviemaking.' He stepped toward her, but she tore
herself away from him and fled to the bathroom. She slammed
the door shut and locked it.

She stepped back as he tried the door handle.

'Daliah!' he called out, shaking the door. 'Come out of
there.' He started hammering at it with his fists. 'Daliah! You
can't just leave, dammit! We have a contract!'

'Then sue me!' she barked. Her eyes stinging with tears, she
turned on the bidet and began washing herself furiously. She couldn't stand the thought of having any of him in her any
longer.

She wept quietly, oblivious now of Jerome's knocks and
pleadings, oblivious of the swift-swirling warm water beneath
her, oblivious of the steady
glugging
noises of the plumbing.
All she could think about was the day she had learned to hate
Arabs—all Arabs. That terrible day in June when tragedy had
laid the foundation of the hatred which would be with her
always.

She had been a little over six years old on that bright hot
Sunday, and the whole family was spending the day on the Tel
Aviv beach. They had just moved from Ein Shmona to the
new seaside apartment house on Hayarkon Street a few weeks
earlier, and this was a very special day since it was the first
time in over a month that her father could spend it with them.
They had packed a big picnic lunch, and Dani had stuck a
striped umbrella in the sand and sat beside Tamara in the
shade on low canvas folding chairs they had lugged over from
the new apartment. She could see their fifth-floor balcony
whenever she looked up from where she was playing. It was
right across Independence Park, which divided the beach from
the first street of buildings along this edge of the city. The
huge expanse of golden sand, stretching out in both directions,
was noisy and crowded. Everyone was out enjoying the sun
and sand and surf. Out beyond the breakers, a regatta of little
sailboats raced across the water like gulls. Somewhere behind
her, Ari and Asa played with a group of agile boys, yelling
excitedly as they kicked a soccer ball back and forth along the
edge of the water. They sounded like they were having a lot
more fun than she was.

Suddenly she was bored with the sand castles she was mak
ing. Even when she used moist sand, it dried out quickly in
the sun and the castles would start to crumble. Frustrated, she
squashed all of them with her little red spade and then flung
it down in the sand. She looked up with a pout. Her mother's head was way back, a wide straw hat and big dark glasses
hiding her face. Her skin was bronze and gleamed from lotion,
and the life-size glossy head of a cover girl looked up from the
fashion magazine she had placed tentlike, on her belly.

'Mama,' Daliah said. 'I'm thirsty.'

Her mother raised her head. 'But you just had a glass of
juice with your lunch, sweetheart.'

'I know, but that was
hours
ago.'

Tamara lifted her wrist and glanced pointedly at her watch. 'Not even half an hour ago. I thought you wanted to keep your
stomach empty so you could go play in the water.'

'That was before. Now I want a Coca-Cola.'

Her mother smiled. 'But you know we didn't bring any. We
just brought juice and bottled citrus drinks.'