Nan Ryan (41 page)

Mollie smiled. “I’m good at anything I enjoy.”

And she was.

And so while Lew, lounging in the suds-filled tub atop the table, groaned and sighed and smoked a cigar and sipped champagne, Mollie, as naked as he, her hair pinned atop her head, knelt on the elegantly laid dining table and laughed and sang and drew a soapy sponge over his dark chest, bending to give him sweet kisses and to drink champagne from his mouth.

It was a lovely, wicked, dreamlike episode. The two of them playing like naughty children there atop the table in the candlelit suite while outside beyond the tall glass windows a million stars filled the chilly night and across the room a blazing fire in the marble fireplace warmed their private, intimate world.

At Lew’s urging, Mollie soon joined him in the tub. He leaned lazily back against the headrest while Mollie sat between his long, bent legs and leaned lazily back against him.

“This is really decadent,” she said, trailing soapy water down her throat.

“That, sweet, is what makes it so enjoyable.”

When the water cooled, they reluctantly left the tub and dried themselves before the fire. Then, wearing only large white towels, they returned to the dining table to enjoy a late supper.

The towel knotted atop his hip, Lew sat down in a tall backed chair and pulled Mollie onto his lap. “What is there to eat?” he asked, nuzzling her neck. “Anything good?”

“Plenty,” she said and recited the many choices.

It was a long, leisurely meal. They sampled some of everything and washed it all down with champagne. Mollie was munching on smoked almonds when Lew said, “What do you say we move this little celebration to the bed?”

Mollie snatched up a bunch of grapes from a silver bowl. “Let’s take the champagne with us.”

“By all means,” said Lew. “And anything else you want.”

“I want you.”

In the bedroom Lew set the champagne on a night table, took Mollie’s half-eaten bunch of grapes and laid them aside. He loosened the towel knotted above her breasts and pulled it open. For a moment he stood there, framing her with the towel, admiring her. Then he released the towel, drew her up on tiptoe and bent to kiss her. Her lips quickly parting beneath his, Mollie tasted the wine and tobacco on his mouth and relished it.

While he kissed her, Mollie unknotted the towel on Lew’s hip and shoved it to the floor. Then she pressed her body to his and he lifted his head. Wordlessly, he picked her up and carried her to the high, white-sheeted bed. He joined her there and they oohed and aaahed and sighed and moaned over the almost-forgotten comfort of a clean, soft bed. Then they lay, silent and content, in the middle of that big, comfortable bed while the fire warmed them and a wonderful sense of well-being enveloped them, lulling them, nudging them toward slumber.

But they were too much in love to go to sleep. They couldn’t get enough of each other, and as badly as they needed rest, they couldn’t waste these precious hours in this luxurious room in this cozy bed doing something so mundane as sleeping.

They talked quietly, punctuating each sentence with kisses to eyes, ears, and lips. Lew, lying flat on his back, smiled lazily when Mollie, on her stomach beside him, dabbed her little finger into a glass of champagne and skimmed it across his bottom lip.

Teasingly, she said, “Lord, I’m thirsty.”

She bent and kissed his mouth. Lew’s heartbeat speeded. Vividly, he recalled where the foolish game of thirst had led when they had played it back in the canyon. The recollection made his breath grow short. He lost it completely when Mollie tipped the fluted glass and dribbled a little of the wine directly onto his right nipple. He groaned when she lowered her face and licked it dry, the tip of her tongue dabbing sweetly, her small white teeth nipping gently.

Mollie set the glass aside. She place her hands on his ribcage and leaned over him. Like a kitten lapping cream, she flicked her tongue rhythmically while Lew, his chest heaving, his fully formed erection surging inches from her face, clutched at the sheet beneath him and wondered just how far she would go with the game.

Brushing Lew’s prominent hipbone with her lips, Mollie sat up and reached for the champagne. Looking straight into Lew’s hot, tortured eyes, she dipped all five fingers into the bubbly wine, set the glass aside, and lowered her hand to him. Lew watched, transfixed, as her wine-wet fingers skimmed down his aching erection.

Mollie studied the heavy, rigid maleness, now glistening with wine. A wild, hungered expression came into her violet eyes. She said softly, “Thirsty. Soooo thirsty.”

All the breath left his body, and Lew’s belly contracted as she slowly bent to him. He felt her soft, searching lips and he shuddered in ecstasy. His hands went to her bent head. He meant to pull her up, but just as he was about to, Mollie put out her tongue and licked him. Lew’s eyes closed and his lean fingers tangled in her hair.

Awed by the fierce power beneath her lips, Mollie licked her slow, tantalizing way from the very base all the way up to the pulsing tip. She paused for only a second, then opened her mouth and slid it over the hot, velvet smoothness. Gently sucking the wine from it, she wondered if Lew was feeling the same wild pleasure he had given to her when he’d kissed her like this in the rock canyon.

So she lifted her head and asked him. “Darling, does that feel good?”

His eyes restlessly opened and Lew looked down at the beautiful golden-haired goddess lying between his spread legs with her soft hands cupping him and her full, red lips wet with wine.

“It’s heaven,” he said huskily, wishing that she would never stop, knowing that she had better stop.

She didn’t.

Mollie smiled dreamily and bent back to him. Bolder now, she put out her tongue and sanguinely stroked him while Lew, inhaling raggedly, felt his passion intensify to the point where it was a mixture of pain and pleasure. How quickly she had learned, this sensual shameless temptress he adored. Already she was teasing him unmercifully, licking him languidly, then pausing to make him wait and strain and beg for more.

When her lips moved up the length of him and she again enclosed the throbbing tip, Lew’s fingers tightened in her hair and for one heart-stopping minute he allowed her to draw him deeply inside the warm, wet promise of her loving mouth. Then gritting his teeth in both agony and ecstasy, he anxiously pulled her head up.

“I thought you liked it,” Mollie murmured as he swiftly turned her onto her back.

“I do,” he said, “too much.”

“Then why …?”

“Because,” he said hoarsely, “I want to be inside you.”

Mollie liked his answer. Her hands skimmed his tanned shoulders. “That’s what I want, too.”

“Do you, sweetheart?”

“Oh, yes,” she breathed, aching to be filled with him, longing to have all that hot power buried deep inside her.

Mollie trembled when she felt Lew’s lean fingers touch her there where she burned for him. Gently, exquisitely, he caressed her, readying her for his loving. And when those practiced fingers slid easily, effortlessly in the wetness flowing from her, Lew moved his hand to her hip.

“Look at me, Mollie,” he said, his voice low, caressing. “Open your eyes and look at me, sweetheart.”

Mollie sighed and let her eyes flutter open. His handsome face, hardened with passion, was just above her own. She looked at him as he took her hand in his, drew it down to him.

His heavy-lidded gaze holding hers, he said, “You want me inside you, put me there.”

Mollie didn’t hesitate. She wrapped eager fingers around his hard, heavy flesh and deftly guided him into her soft wet heat. Both gasped with pleasure as he slid painlessly in and Mollie let her hand move up his belly to his chest as Lew slowly, carefully inched into her.

For an incredibly erotic moment they lay there completely still, looking into each other’s eyes, their straining, joined bodies poised and in place for a feverish, frenzied dance of untamed passion.

And then the dance started.

Lew began the slow sensual surging of his slim hips, languidly thrusting, almost withdrawing, then thrusting once more. Mollie immediately found his easy, indolent rhythm and moved with him, her arms looped around his neck, her knees bent. They stayed like that for a time, sighing, loving, moving lazily.

Finally Lew’s hands went beneath Mollie to lift her to him as he changed the tempo minutely, but still keeping to a leisurely, erotic pace. With patience and expertise, he made love to Mollie, taking her higher and higher, leading her up the rising steps of passion and through the varying stages of changing rhythms until their hearts were pounding like jungle drums and they were bucking and thrusting like two sleek animals, their bodies slick with perspiration, their quest for the ultimate totally uninhibited.

“Yes … yes …” Mollie exulted as her release began. “It’s so good, so good.… Don’t stop, please don’t stop. Oh, yes, like that, like that …”

“Like this, sweetheart?” Lew asked, holding back his own joy, giving it all to her, feeling the tight, sweet squeezing of her body on his as her forceful climax began.

“Yes! Yes! Oooh … oooh.… Lew! Lewwww!” Her nails dug into his shoulders and she cried out and looked up at him with widened eyes as the frightening wonder claimed her.

“Baby … oh, God, baby …” he groaned and joined her in paradise.

“You ready?”

“Ready for what?”

“I thought you wanted to play faro after supper,” Lew teased.

“Very funny,” she said, too exhausted to hit him.

Lew chuckled and asked, “Which do you like best? Gambling or lovemaking?”

Mollie yawned, sighed. “I’d like a bit more of each before I make a decision.”

Enchanted, Lew laughed heartily and admitted, “Sweetheart, if you do more of either tonight, I’m afraid it will have to be gambling. You’ve worn me out.”

Mollie let her hand slide down his chest to his belly. “Yes, I can see that. Still, I think I’ll stay right here for a while. Maybe you’ll get your second wind.”

“Don’t count on it,” he said, drew a deep, relaxed breath, and gave no reply when Mollie asked him a question.

She eased up onto her elbow and softly spoke his name. No answer. Lew was sound asleep. Reluctant to release her hold on bliss, Mollie tried very hard to stay awake. She didn’t want to sleep. She wanted to lie and look at her beautiful lover forever. But a hard day in the saddle and the relaxation that comes with total gratification changed her plans. She was almost instantly asleep.

When Mollie awakened, bright sunlight streamed in through the tall windows. She slowly turned her head on the pillow and saw a pair of hypnotic blue eyes looking at her. Without a word, Lew kissed her and made slow, sweet love to her.

An hour later, when they left their high mountain haven, the sun was almost at its zenith. The day was bright and cool, the air pleasantly crisp. Autumn had arrived in the high country with its colorful banners proudly raised—the flaming red of the maples and gold of the willows and aspen. The tallest of the majestic San Francisco peaks wore a cloak of snow, while lacy patches of ice covered some of the shadier spots on the ground.

Heading east, Lew and Mollie rode through the splendidly remote, rugged country where the only sounds were the hoarse croaking of a raven and the wind stirring the pines. A feeling of welcome isolation filled Mollie as they rode through the cool uplands. It was easy to pretend that she and Lew were the only two people on earth.

The day was perfect.

Life was perfect.

But minutes later, the quiet, sunny solitude changed. The bright blue sky darkened and the air grew cold as the sun disappeared. The wind changed from a gentle sigh to a mournful wail, then howled forcefully through the trees. A lone eagle glided through the sky and circled high above.

Mollie shuddered involuntarily as a sense of foreboding washed over her.

The rains began, coming in quick, angry sheets of water and Lew, shouting to be heard, told her they would take cover and wait out the rainstorm. They hurriedly dismounted under the sheltering branches of a giant ponderosa pine and Lew, his mood still buoyant, laughed, pulled Mollie close, and said, “Don’t look so serious. This won’t last long. Just a quick mountain thunderstorm.” He looked into her eyes, saw the anxiety there. “What is it, sweetheart?”

Telling herself she was being foolish, that the worrisome premonition nagging at her meant nothing, Mollie smiled. “Not a thing.”

“Sure?”

“Sure.”

Lew relaxed then, leaned back against the tree trunk and hugged Mollie to him. She turned up her face, eager for his kiss. When his lips closed over hers, she kissed him passionately, anxiously, as though she might never kiss him again. While Lew’s response was warm, Mollie’s was white-hot.

She tore at his buttons, pushed his shirt apart, and kissed his bared chest, murmuring, “Love me, Lew. Love me.”

“Sure, baby. I’ll get the fur robe and toss it on—”

“No,” Mollie’s tone was almost frantic.

She pulled his head down and kissed him again. Her mouth on his was ravenous. The almost savage kiss combined with the aggressive undulation of her hips against his brought on immediate arousal.