Too Damn Rich (36 page)

Kenzie's entire torso arched, and she went
momentarily stone cold. Then something inside her—the icy
resolution she'd believed impervious to combustibility—ignited and
melted away in a blaze.

And still the internal explosions continued,
on and on, as if fed from a bottomless source. Violent shudders,
fierce and deeply sexual, wracked her body from head to toe, and
the feeling of physical urgency was curiously liberating, as though
shackles were cracking apart and setting her free. Suddenly, it
seemed only natural to focus all her attention upon the groin of
Charley's gray twill trousers.

For, unlike Oakland, there was a there there.
And, from the way the fabric twitched and strained, there was a lot
of there there. A whole lot.

A killer erection, if she gauged it
correctly.

Reaching out, she firmly took hold of his
cloth-enshrouded penis.

He nearly levitated.

She sighed aloud with pleasure. How had she
done without for so long? And whatever could have possessed her to
lead these last few months of mean, self-induced celibacy in the
first place? A lively sex life, like a fine wine, was to be
enjoyed.

"Kenzie ... " Charley's voice was muffled,
but the vibrations it sent coursing through her were electric. "...
we're both ... gonna regret ..."

But she wasn't listening. An intense heat,
like from a furnace, radiated from deep within her, and a warm
sticky moisture dampened her panties and wet her thighs.

"Please . . ." she heard Charley gasp. "This
... isn't . . . fair ... "

"Charley," she chided, bowing her head into
his groin, "haven't you heard? All's fair in sex and war."

Gently she took the zipper pull between her
teeth and slowly unzipped his trousers.

His fly opened like a husk, and when she
loosened his trapped phallus and scrotum, his penis twitched the
air, a heat-seeking missile in search of its target. With its
enormous swollen head and prominent veins bulging in deep relief,
it rose stalwartly from its thicket of pubic hair, looking like
nothing so much as a delicious sculpture fashioned of the finest,
surpassingly pink nephrite.

"I ... I'm ... not responsible," Charley
managed, his voice, like his warm breath, lost in her moist,
private-most regions.

"Oh, do shut up, Charley," she said, without
rancor. "Didn't anybody ever tell you you talk too much?"

And gripping the stem of his manhood with one
hand, she loosened his belt and trouser button with the other, all
the while leisurely pressing her groin into his face.

His pleasurable groans were a dead giveaway,
as was his tongue working its way beneath her panty line.

She knew now that he was lost; they'd reached
the point of no return.

Good.

Taking a long, deep breath of delight, she
lowered her mouth and trailed the feathery tip of her tongue
teasingly along the length of the engorged shaft and then
reverentially across the succulent globes of scrotal fruit.

With her every lick, Charley gasped and
pushed his pelvis upward.

Well, he can shake, rattle, and roll all he
wants, she thought, with a smile. Not that it'll do him much
good.

On the contrary. She had done without for too
long to rush things along now, and was resolutely—obstinately and
inexorably—determined to savor every last delectable millimeter of
him, and for as long and leisurely as was humanly possible.

Under her ministrations, his phallus
impatiently jerked and thrummed and leapt.

"Cool it, Charley," she murmured, treating
the slit of his penis to a swirl of her questing tongue. "What's
the hurry? Can't you just lie back and enjoy the ride?"

And opening her mouth wide, she closed it
solemnly around the head of his penis and held it there, waiting
until he was absolutely still. Then, and only then, did she yield,
her lips and tongue working in tandem to treat him to the strong
and unfaltering suction of her mouth.

He responded in kind, pulling down her briefs
and drilling his tongue past her glorious dark pubic nest, and
through the fleshy outer lips of her pouting clitoris.

She shut her eyes, happily refamiliarizing
herself with every last vein and curve of his phallus.

This—this sex act—was no mere lust, she knew.
There was pent-up passion here; the perfume of bodies driven by
desire; the sensation of time stopping so that this moment, and
this alone, comprised the reality of living.

Now she was no longer able to control the
wild thrusts of her hips, and she sucked ravenously. Taking his cue
from her, he lathed her vigorously, his own pelvis bucking upward
in demanding, jackhammer movements.

Oh, how right this felt! she thought. How
blessedly, wonderfully right! And ah, how the remembrances of tangy
smells and familiar tastes helped fuel the fires of carnality!

Garments were deemed too constricting. These
were mutually, wordlessly, speedily disposed of: some easily shed,
others torn off in the throes of passion.

Now they were naked. Regal. Gleaming.

She could feel her heart pounding fiercely,
the blood racing madly through her veins, the juices of life
starting to build up inside her.

Unbidden, tears sprang into her eyes. What
was she feeling for him? Love, that woefully inadequate four letter
word? Or mere lust, that craving so potent and possessive that
beside it, all else in the universe paled?

But these answers, she knew, must wait.
Later, there would be time for introspection. Here and now, words
were redundant; nothing existed except for flesh against flesh.

Still gripping his penis by the base, she
slid around to face him. Her eyes had a wild kind of look as she
straddled his pelvis and raised her buttocks high.

For a moment she seemed perfectly still, as
though suspended in midair. Then, with a smooth, graceful elegance,
she slowly lowered herself down upon him.

Her eyes widened as she impaled her moist
female warmth upon his tumescence. There was a jolt of pain, and
then he was in, sliding all the way up inside her.

Slowly, deliberately, she rose back up, as if
to expell him, then lowered herself completely again. Beneath her,
she could see him grit his teeth; heard him grunt involuntarily as
slowly, rhythmically, she lifted and lowered her pelvis: up and
down, up and down, up and down ...

Suddenly he was no longer content to just lie
there. Greedily, his pelvis rose to meet hers, and together, their
movements quickened, their hips moving in a blurry, sensuous dance
as old as time itself.

Faster, faster, faster! Ever more furiously
they took their pleasure, twisting their hips in delirium, consumed
with but one purpose—to satiate unquenchable passions.

More, more, more! It was as if neither of
them could seem to get enough. Ravenousness begot more
ravenousness; hips, hands, legs, breasts: all worked in feverish
tandem.

And then her eyes glazed over, her mouth
opened in ecstasy, and a guttural cry issued forth from her throat.
Locking him tightly to her, she felt the torrent rise inside her;
the universe explode into dazzling pyrotechnics.

It was but the first of multiple orgasms.
With each she screamed in agony, yet each was like a
regeneration.

Still she proved insatiable.

Never before had it been like this. But then,
never before had she been celibate for so long. Every orgasm came
as a thundering upheaval, each gaining in strength.

And then it was he who could hold back no
longer.

It seemed the earth shook and the very
heavens split asunder. With a primordial howl, he clamped his hips
to hers, and his testes exploded, spilling forth his seed.

And contracting her vaginal muscles, she
orgasmed one last time, her screams merging with his as together
they burst across the finish line in an apocalypse which seemed to
have no beginning and no end.

Thus spent, lungs bursting and breaths
rasping, they clung to one another.

Long minutes passed.

Finally Charley stirred. As he let go of her,
he felt his phallus slide out of a vagina. Then, recognizing its
proprietor, he looked away before doing a classic double take.

And very nearly choked.

Kenzie!

What the devil?

Abruptly sitting up, he shook his head to
clear it while trying to figure out what, exactly, had hit him.

Only one answer was possible.

"And with what," he demanded hoarsely, "did
you spike my drink?"

"Don't be silly," she said calmly. She lay
there, the very picture of a nubile, blissfully satiated Venus. "I
didn't even offer you a drink. Remember?"

He scratched his touseled head and frowned.
"Right. So what exactly did happen?"

She smiled. "Why, I like to think I
happened."

"Jeez!" he exclaimed. "You know what's wrong
with you?"

"What?" She positively purred.

"You've got an ego the size of
Mont-fucking-Blanc!"

"Aw," she said sweetly. "I ever tell you how
cute you look when you get angry?"

His scowl deepened.

Kenzie wondered why that particular remark
always got a man's goat, but it did. She'd never once known it to
fail.

Pretending to ignore him, she stretched
luxuriantly, laced her hands behind her head, and wiggled her
toes.

"My God!" Charley, who recognized a direct
lift from his own repertoire when he saw one, croaked hoarsely.
She's imitating me! he realized. Fuckin' mimicking me!

"Is nothing sacred?" he asked coldly.

"Yep!" she replied, happily wiggling her
toes. "Cows."

Cows? He wasn't even going to ask what she
meant by that.

"You know," he said, "at times you can be a
real pain in the ass."

"Yep!" she repeated brightly. "But
momentarily a very, very sexually appeased pain!" She blew him an
extravagant air kiss. "Thanks, lover boy."

Clenching his jaw to keep from exchanging
another word with this vilest of creatures, he rose to his feet.
Scanned the floor. Snarled: "Socks."

Retrieved one. Savagely pulled it on his left
foot as he hopped around on his right.

Leaning up on her elbows, she watched with
growing amusement as he stomped around—here, there,
everywhere—plucking items of discarded clothing from wherever they
had landed.

Aware of her watchful gaze, he prudishly
turned his back on her and set about getting dressed.

Oh, great! she thought. Now the big stud
needs privacy! She rolled her eyes and let her head drop down to
the carpet. As if there's any part of his anatomy I haven't
seen!

She sighed to herself. Men. They really could
be such assholes at times.

Finally he was ready. Properly buttoned,
zipped, tucked, and laced.

Adjusting his tie, he marched stiffly past
her, scooping his overcoat up off the floor on the way. Reaching
the front door, he lost no time unbolting the topmost of the five
Fichet locks.

"Oh, Charley," Kenzie called out in a lazy
drawl.

She waited, but he was too intent upon
unlocking the door to pay her any heed.

Damn him, she thought with mild vexation.
He's deliberately ignoring me.

She sat up and placed her hands on her hips.
"Aren't you forgetting something?" she asked, raising her voice
slightly.

He flicked her a sideways glance. "Like
what?"

"Like this." And jumping up, she snatched a
thick Jiffy bag off the coffee table and flung it across the room
at him.

He was left with two choices—either to get
coldcocked, or to reach out and catch it. Wisely he chose to do the
latter.

"Jesus," he glowered. "What are you trying to
kill me with? Lead?"

Kenzie crossed the room. She was moving with
an agile, unselfconscious grace, her breasts riding high and
proud.

Charley felt the blood ascend into his face.
Quickly he averted his gaze. Christ! She had him so befuddled, he
actually had to concentrate just to work his way down the row of
locks! Why couldn't she keep her distance? Her physical proximity
engulfed him like a palpable caress.

"That package," she informed him, "contains
the Holbein file."

Now he had four locks open. He thought: One
more and I'm outta here!

"You should find everything you need in
there," she continued. "Catalogue, appraisals, color
transparencies, sales receipts, transfers of ownership, copies of
correspondence ... you name it."

The last lock cylinder clicked.

"If there's anything else you need," she
added softly, "don't hesitate to whistle."

Like hell! he thought, and yanked the door
wide. He tromped quickly down the stairs, the package under one
arm.

Kenzie poked her face around the door. "I'll
phone you tomorrow?" she called after him.

His head disappeared down the stairwell.

Smiling to herself, she shut the door and
locked it.

This has certainly been an interesting
evening, she decided. Yes. Most interesting indeed ...

For not only had she corraled Charley into
working with her, but she'd even been brought to multiple orgasm in
the process!

Which just goes to prove one thing, she
thought. If you play your cards right, you can have your cake and
eat it, too!

And smiling with smug contentedness, she
stretched luxuriantly. Why was it, she wondered, giving a mighty
yawn, that making love always made her so sleepy? Really, if
someone could bottle post-coital bliss, they'd be rolling in dough.
Put sleeping pills totally out of business ...

Crossing the room, her bare toes poked
something silky. She stopped to investigate. Good Lord. Her red
panties.

She perused the rest of the floor. Oh, my.
The carpet was littered with evidence of gratified debauchery,
including her ripped, red jersey sweatpants. Oh my, oh my.