Part 110 (2/2)

quick, wet moans.

”Mmm. You're in a hurry.” The French woman laughed, working her way

under Brian's s.h.i.+rt. ”I'll give you your money's worth, chd, don't you

worry. But you promised m.e a party first.”

”Right.” And that would help, he thought. Her hair was dark and sleek,

but her eyes were brown instead of green. After a couple of lines it

wouldn't matter. Nothing would. He went to a table and, unlocking a

drawer, took out a small white vial. ”Party time.”

The brunette clapped her hands. Hips swinging, she walked to the gla.s.s

coffee table and knelt.

Appalled, Emma watched her father set up the cocaine. Straws, mirrors,

the razor blade. His movements were competent, practiced. His head bent

close to the brunette's.

”Ah.” The French woman leaned back, eyes brilliant. She dipped a

fingertip into the dust on the mirror then rubbed it over her gums.

”Delicious.”

Brian hooked a finger in her sarong, drew her to him. He felt

incredible. Young, powerful, invincible. He was hard and ready and

full of needs. He bent her back, intending to take her quickly the

first time. After all, he'd paid for all night.

”Dad.”

His head whipped up. He focused, but it seemed like a dream. His

daughter, with shadows at her back, her face pale, her eyes dark and

wet, her hair streaming over her shoulders. ”Emma?”

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