The Property of a Lady - Elizabeth Adler [199]
“C. Z. Abrams?” His eyebrows lifted in surprise. Now he remembered, he had seen it often enough in the newspapers. She was King O’Hara’s widow—and the blonde must be his daughter.
Azaylee glanced at his hand still clutching hers on her lap. She stared up at him, her mouth slack, and then she licked her lips. He felt a tingle of desire for her, though virgins were not his usual territory. He preferred a woman with experience as well as money, and preferably one who enjoyed sex as much as he did. But she had potential, this little one….
“This lemonade tastes funny,” Rachel said sleepily. Her face was pale and she added suddenly, “I don’t think it agrees with my stomach.”
Carlos groaned. All he needed was her to throw up. “Come on,” he ordered briskly. “It’s time all good girls were in bed.”
Azaylee shot him a flirtatious glance from under her lashes and murmured, “I thought that’s where all the bad girls went.”
He laughed, putting his arm casually across her slender shoulders as he guided her from the bar. “And sometimes good ones too,” he whispered in her ear.
He sat between the two girls in the taxi, opening Rachel’s window in case she felt ill, but she promptly fell asleep. Azaylee leaned her head against his shoulder, her eyes closed, and he put his arm around her.
“I’m so sleepy.” She yawned, snuggling against his chest.
He stroked her face with his finger, tracing her eyelids, her cheekbones, and her mouth, which trembled under his touch. Her eyes closed but he could tell she was not sleeping, and he let his fingers drift slowly down her neck until his hand rested against her small, soft breast. He could feel her heart pounding, and she breathed quicker as his fingers wandered across the soft flesh exposed by the low neckline of her pink silk dress. She gasped as he slid his hand inside. He could feel the heat coming from her as he twisted her face toward him and he put his mouth over hers, drawing her into him in a kiss that lasted forever.
She clung to him, dazed with passion. He took her hand and guided it to his bulging crotch. “There,” he whispered. “See what girls like you do to a man? You get them all hot and ready, leading them on, and then you cast them aside. You don’t know the pain you leave a man in. The agony!” He pressed her hand harder into his throbbing groin and she struggled feebly. “I just wanted you to feel what it was like so you would remember what you have done to me, you cruel, cold-hearted little virgin.”
Azaylee twisted away from him and sat up. Her face was flushed and her eyes glittered as she began to cry, the tears trickling down her cheeks and dripping unheeded onto her pink dress. “I didn’t mean to do it. I don’t want to hurt you. I just didn’t know….” She hiccuped again and he sighed as he passed her his handkerchief.
“So now you do,” he said brusquely as the cab drew up in front of the hotel. “And a word of warning, young Miss O’Hara. You are playing with fire.”
The driver grinned knowingly as Carlos helped the girls from the cab and sent them hurrying into the hotel. Carlos watched them spin through the revolving door and lurch unsteadily across the hall. That was just a beginning, he thought. Just wait, little Miss Azaylee. Then he lighted a cigarillo and took a stroll around the grounds, thinking about Missie O’Hara.
The next morning over a subdued and silent breakfast, Azaylee was shocked to see him approaching. Kicking Rachel under the table, she kept her eyes on her plate, blushing furiously. Rachel glanced apprehensively at Missie and then at Carlos as he nodded to them, smiling.
Azaylee felt as if she were melting inside at the sound of his voice and his nearness as he said, “Buenos días, Señora O’Hara, señoritas. Forgive me for interrupting your breakfast, but it is such a lovely day and”—he hesitated—“I was wondering if you would do me the honor of lunching with me. I thought a little picnic, and then maybe you might like to visit the racetrack. After all, sometimes it gets boring here for the young people.”
“It’s very kind of you, Señor