Courting Death - Carol Stephenson [66]
“Oh,” I shrieked in surprise as he gripped my ankles and bent my legs. Then he knelt between them. His eyes gleamed in the candlelight. He cupped my knees and spread them wide. He lowered himself so he sprawled on his stomach. His beard roughened face abraded the sensitive skin of my inner thighs at the same time his hair tickled me. Then his hot mouth kissed me intimately. His tongue teased my clitoris even as he penetrated me with his fingers.
I twisted, my hips lifting as waves of pleasure ripped through me. His fingers thrust and withdrew in syncopation with his clever tongue until I thought I could bear no more.
Fire consumed me, freeing me of all bonds.
Even as I trembled in the aftershocks, Sam slid into me at the same time he hungrily found my mouth. As our bodies fell into rhythm, the pressure deep inside once more coiled and mounted. He stiffened and let out a hoarse exultant cry. The tension inside me shuddered and then released, and once more I fell.
Sometime later, I emerged from a delicious sensual lethargy to find Sam stretched out next to me, his arm draped over my middle. Drying sweat gleamed across his shoulders. When I shifted, he opened his eyes.
“Hey there, Red.” He lifted his head and brushed his lips against mine. The kiss was so soft, so tender that it almost undid me. He rubbed his thumb along my rib cage and I jerked at the sensation.
“Stop that.”
“What’s this? Are you ticklish?” He dug his fingers into my side until I squirmed and giggled. His penis stiffened and nudged my hip.
“No fair.” I reached between our bodies and slid my fingers around his shaft, caressing the velvety skin masking its rigid strength. With a moan, Sam pressed against my hand, once, twice. I pushed against his chest and he obligingly rolled on to his back.
I reached over the edge of the mattress and found the item I’d hidden earlier. Then I mounted him. He ran his hands along the front of my body until he cupped my breasts. I gripped his wrists and leaned over, extending his arms over his head. Even as his hot mouth tugged on one nipple, I held his wrists with one hand as I slid on the handcuffs.
Click. Then a second snick as I fastened the other end to the metal spoke of the bed’s headboard.
Sam froze. “Honey, what did you do?” He tugged his hands but the cuffs held.
“We’re going to play a little game.” I slid down along his body, causing him to groan, until I reached my destination. I studied his erection. “It’s called voir dire. I ask questions and you answer them.”
“What kind of questions?” The strain in his voice was palpable.
“Do you like this?” I blew lightly on his penis.
“Oh yeah. That’s the whole truth and nothing but the truth so—”
I took him in my mouth.
Chapter Seventeen
Tuesday night I sat up late working in the Florida room. Mom was sound asleep and Melissa was out with friends. I heard the front door open and a few seconds later my sister wandered into the room, yawning.
I glanced up from the notes I was reviewing. “Good movie?”
“Yeah, but I’m whipped.” She flopped down beside me on the sofa. “What are you still doing up?”
“Sam’s working tonight so I’m trying to figure out a few loose ends in the Whitman case.” I had the entire file spread across the cocktail table.
She frowned. “But they fired you.”
“Doesn’t mean I don’t want answers.” I lifted a shoulder. “One of the flaws of being anal. Besides—” I studied the new framed photo of Mom and me, “—the police haven’t gotten the person responsible for the phone call and package.” Sam’s frustration on that front was evident. The black market case had also hit yet another snag when the body inside the truck pulled from the canal had been identified as Danny Lopez’s.
My sister sat next to me and picked up the financial research folder. “I never got a chance to discuss what I found with you.” She pulled over several pages. “I’m thinking of going to medical school now. I never realized it was so profitable to be a podiatrist.” She pointed to a column. “I discovered some