Never Too Rich (51 page)

“
There,” he said with a smile when
he was done. “I’d say that looks a lot better.”

There was no fear in her eyes now, but the
tenderness he’d displayed brought fresh tears to them. She still
found it difficult to believe her Doc was for real. How sensitive
and special he was!

But then, she thought with a sudden pang of
bitterness, her experience with the opposite sex hadn’t exactly
been something to trumpet. First there had been Brother Dan, then
nearly that pimp at Port Authority, and finally Snake . . . Snake,
whose ole lady and devoted house-mouse she’d been . . . who’d
instigated the gang rape and set all those animals loose on
her.

Her features suddenly hardened. Stop thinking about
that bastard! she told herself. You can’t let him and that gang of
unwashed cavemen ruin the life you and Doc deserve to enjoy. You
can’t remain frigid forever. Surely even the patience of a prince
like Doc has its limits. How long do you expect him to wait until
you get your mental act together?

But the mere thought of surrendering herself
voluntarily to a man—even a man she loved beyond life itself—made
her physically ill. She could feel all the symptoms already. The
nausea. The dizziness. The perspiration and panic.

Now her fear of sex was like nothing she had ever
known.

If only I could return Doc’s love physically. Why
can’t I give myself to him? Is that too much to ask for?

But the terror ran so immeasurably, so painfully, so
irreversibly deep.

Silent minutes ticked by.

I have to overcome it sometime, she thought. I must.
So why not now!

She didn’t know where her voice came from. “Doc . .
.” she said nervously. Her pulse was racing, and terror, like an
icy tornado, tore through her body. She swallowed hard and drew
herself determinedly erect.

“
Yes, Billie?”

She was silent for a moment, then she drew a deep
breath. Every instinct inside her was fighting what she was about
to do. “I ... I want us to make love.”

He hesitated.

“
I’m sure,” she said quickly.
“Don’t you see? I want it. I
need
it. Only you can cure
me.”

He shook his head. “I cannot cure you. Only you can
do that.”

Her eyes held his. “And I intend to,” she said with
quiet conviction.

He did not speak.

“
I have to, Doc. I can’t keep on
living as only half a woman. Please. I need your help.”

“
Are you sure you aren’t rushing
it?”

“
I have to take that chance.”
Swiftly, as though she might otherwise change her mind, she stood
and started unbuttoning her blouse. Her movements were jerky and
her fingers trembled. Her mind was a maelstrom of conflicting
emotions. Would she really be able to go through with it? And if
so, could she satisfy him?

She honestly didn’t know. But she had to start
somewhere.

Her heart was running away; her head was
pounding.

What if midway through she had to stop? Would he
take her for a tease?

No. She was certain he wouldn’t. Not Duncan. Not her
Doc. He would be gentle . . . and understanding.

With new determination she slipped off her blouse
and let it fall to the floor. Almost defiantly she raised her head
and lifted her shoulders. Her lace-brassiered breasts rose. “Take
me, darling,” she whispered. “I’m all yours.”

Duncan’s protectiveness ran deeper than carnality.
“I don’t want to force you,” he said, the sight of her partially
undressed body, as well as her bravado, bringing a tightness to his
chest. He could well imagine the immense courage and resolve this
was taking on her part. His voice became suddenly hoarse. “Billie,
I want you to know that anytime you feel you have to stop—”

She shushed him by placing a finger to his lips.
“Don’t say that, Doc,” she pleaded. “Please?” She paused, color
heightening her incandescent, exquisitely boned face. She took a
deep, breast-heaving lungful of air. “Just promise me one thing.
That’s all I ask.”

He continued to look at her silently.

Her voice grew suddenly strong. “That no matter how
much I fight it, you won’t stop.”

“
Billie—” he began,
shocked.

“
Please,
Doc!” She stared at
him. “You must do as I ask.” There was a faint edging of tears
around her eyes. “This is the most important moment of my life,”
she added in a whisper.

“
I know that, darling, but I can’t
force you. I’d never be capable of that. Rape isn’t making
love.”

She shook her head. “No, Doc. Don’t you understand?
You won’t be raping me. You’ll be
helping
me!” She came into
his arms and pressed herself against him.

He could feel the warmth of her body and the
jackhammer beats of her heart. The scent of her perfumeless flesh
was intoxicating, pungent with a heady fragrance all its own.
Suddenly he flashed back on that night a million years ago . . .
that night that, in some ways, still seemed only yesterday . . .
the night when Olympia had brought her to him, bloodied and
battered.

“
Doc?”

She was waiting for an answer.

He looked at her for what seemed an eternity. “All
right,” he said at long last. “So long as you’re sure ...”

A sudden relief flashed in her eyes. “I’m positive,”
she whispered huskily. “Thanks, Doc.” Quickly she kissed his cheek,
then pulled away and turned around. She stood there with her back
turned. “Undo me, Doc, will you?” she said over her shoulder.

Pressing his lips to the back of her neck, he
unhooked the brassiere and slid the straps down over her arms. He
could hear her sharp intake of breath as her bared warm breasts met
the cool of the air.

His touch was soft and tender as he turned her back
around to face him. “You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, his
feather-light hands unzipping her skirt very slowly. She was barely
conscious of the fabric sliding down her legs and gathering in
whispering folds around her ankles. Her panties were flesh-tone,
and gave the illusion that she was already completely naked.

He started to unbutton his shirt, but now it was she
who closed her hands over his wrists. Her voice was low. “No. Let
me.”

He looked at her. The pink of her tongue was parting
the moist pearly white gleam of her teeth.

Before he could reply, she unbuttoned his shirt and
slid the sleeves down over his arms. “Your body is so beautiful,”
she whispered, tentatively smoothing her hands across his
curly-haired chest. She rolled his nipples between her fingertips.
“Do you like that, Doc?”

“
Do I like it!” He reached for
her.

“
Not yet.” She moved his arms to
his sides. She wanted to return in kind the wonderfully slow,
deliberate sensations he had aroused in undressing her. Her mouth
and tongue brushed across his chest as her fingers slid down,
unbuckling his belt and unzipping his trousers. They fell to the
floor.

He was wearing tight navy-blue briefs. The bulging
ridge of his manhood pushed and strained against the fabric. She
was about to touch it, when her hand froze. Instantly that wild,
afraid look was back in her luminous eyes.

“
Slowly,” Duncan whispered, his
hands barely touching her. “One step at a time.”

She nodded and he took her back in his arms, his
lips kissing hers again. He could feel her beginning to relax once
more, and his tongue danced a slow-motion ballet inside her mouth.
Slowly she began to get caught up in his passion. They kissed each
other, kissed and kissed wherever their hungry mouths could
reach—lips, face, chin, throat. And all the while, his hands, his
marvelously skilled surgeon’s hands, caressed her sensitive breasts
in slow concentric circles, his fingertips finally teasing her
jutting nipples.

He could feel them hardening to stiff points under
his touch.

“
I’ll be gentle,” he promised
softly into her mouth.

“
Yes!” she whispered back, and
shuddered convulsively.

Slowly, deliberately, his fingers strummed their way
down across her latticed rib cage, trailed over her softly muscled,
concave abdomen, and followed the contours of her narrow curving
hips. She watched, entranced, as he reverently dropped to his knees
in front of her and pressed his face into her belly. But it was
when he twirled the moist tip of his tongue into her navel that the
powerful blast of emotion she was unprepared for rocketed through
her.

He could hear her catch her breath—or had she
stifled a moan of dismay? He looked up and tried to read which
response it had been, but her head was tilted too far back, and he
couldn’t see her expression.

Taking the waistband of her panties between his
teeth, he slowly peeled them down her legs.

Now.

Now she was completely nude.

Her fingers dug into his shoulders. “Remember,” she
reminded him in a fierce breathy whisper. “If I fight you—”

“
I won’t stop,” he promised,
glancing up at her. The panties were still between his teeth, and
his head was down by her calves. Lifting her legs one by one, he
slipped the panties off her. Then, letting them drop, he worked his
way with flicks of his tongue back up one of her beautiful,
wonderfully sleek long legs, legs sheathed in flawless pale skin
smooth as satin.

When his head was at groin level again, his hands
glided around her hips. Cupping her buttocks, he gently pushed her
closer into his face.

Tension moved the thigh muscles under the surface of
her skin; he could catch the faintest aroma of her sex wafting, all
frankincense and honey and myrrh, sweetly at him from her
groin.

His hunger was overpowering. Abruptly he buried his
face into her dark curly mound, his mouth opening around the moist
oval that was the mysterious heart of her womanhood.

It was like thrusting his face into a fire.

“
Oh, Doc!” she gasped, flinging her
head back and thrusting her hips forward. Grabbing the back of his
head, she pushed his face even further into the heat of her
thighs.

His tongue delved and dallied and teased.

“
Yes!” she moaned. “Oooooh, that’s
good! That’s so
good,
Doc!”

He slid a finger up into her and gently nipped at
her button with his lips.

Her back arched and she nearly went crazy.

When he stopped, her eyes instantly snapped open and
she looked down at him with disappointment and surprise. “Don’t
stop!” she whispered. “Doc,
please
. . .”

He stood up. “Come,” he said softly, taking her by
the hand and leading her over to the bed.

She looked at it in a condition of petrified
apprehension, everything it represented filling her with a cold,
heart-stopping dread. She turned to him, her eyes wide, and saw
only love reflected from his face. Taking a deep breath, she nodded
and crawled up on the mattress. Courage, she told herself in a
silent litany, all it takes is courage. She stretched out,
half-raising herself on her elbows, watching as he slipped out of
his briefs.

When his manhood sprang free, she eyed it with
curious trepidation. It curved, long and hard, up at a scimitar
angle from the thatch of crisp brown pubic curls; from beneath it
hung his testicles, two ripe succulent fruits dangling from a thick
branch.

Courage, she reiterated to herself. Courage!

With utmost caution, as though she were some
fragile, treasured piece of crystal that might shatter under the
slightest impact, he slid smoothly onto the bed beside her and,
with his rigid penis pressed against her flesh, continued his sweet
caresses and loving kisses. He smoothed his hands ever so tenderly
along her arms, her back, her shoulders and buttocks and thighs,
knowing that if he took her too soon he would only contribute to
her fright.

Finally, after what seemed an eternity, he could
feel the tenseness within her die down, and he positioned himself
and parted her legs.

“
Billie . . .” she heard him
whisper.

Courage deserted her as she stared up at him while
he raised his hips off the mattress. She watched with quaking
concentration as he started to lower himself into her splayed
thighs.

“
I love you, Billie,” Duncan told
her softly. But his words were lost amid the deafening drumming of
her blood in her ears. She felt him scooping up her hips, lifting
them to meet his, and then he started to guide his shaft down into
her.

The moment she felt him enter her, an overpowering
panic took hold. She instantly went rigid, then dug her elbows into
the mattress and furiously tried to crab-crawl her way backward and
escape. But his hands, still gentle but firm now, held tenaciously
to her hips. Desperately she twisted and bucked and writhed, doing
everything within her power to throw him off. Even her slick
vaginal muscles, contracting against the intrusion, fought him.

Perversely, the very tightening against his penis
made entering her feel that much more exquisite. The constricting
muscles squeezed him deliciously, made him want to throw back his
head and bay lustfully at the moon.

But it was not he who howled.

“
Nooooo!” she screamed suddenly as
he slowly, inexorably drove deeper. “Stop! Please . . . you’ve got
to
stop!”
The freeze-frame nightmare images were back,
filling her mind with motor-driven speed as the present merged with
the past.

“
Nooooo!”
she screamed,
thrashing her head from side to side, her hair whipping back and
forth on the pillow. “Stop it!
Stop it!”
And suddenly her
anguish metamorphosed into blazing rage. Grim-faced and with full
strength, she began hammering Duncan’s back and chest and shoulders
with her fists. Her legs kicked and jerked, her heels alternately
pounding him and digging into him in an effort to thrust him away.
That failing, she bared her teeth and attempted to hurl herself at
him to bite and annihilate, but her head came up short. Frustrated,
she grunted and tried to shove a foot into his face.