Part 16 (2/2)

His c.o.c.k brushed against her thighs and it was hard and hot, seeking entrance to her p.u.s.s.y. Marilyn would have helped guide him, but he caught her hands and pulled them slowly above her head. His eyes held both secrets of the d.a.m.ned and the promise of pa.s.sions to come. She wanted to comfort him, to tell him that everything was as it should be, that no matter what else happened, she'd cherish this night for the rest of her life.

Then he kissed her fully on the lips as he slid inside her, and Marilyn couldn't tell where she ended and he began. They were one for the time, a synchronized, serendipitous union of bodies and souls, both stretching for expression, not release. It was as if he could read her mind and knew that she wanted him to prolong their coupling because he took his time, seeming to savor each fluid movement for their journey's sake.

It was so easy to give herself to him, to relax with no thoughts of tomorrow. Painfully easy, for the beauty of their time together tore at her heart.

She wound her arms around his neck, drawing him as close as possible. His body heated hers, and soon neither of them could hold back and they were no longer gently giving and taking but greedily f.u.c.king one another, as if they would never be satisfied. A longing so deep made her cry his name, and when she did his c.o.c.k became a rigid rod of steel within.

”Jackson!”

”Oh, chere, baby...I-I...!”

His voice tapered as he burst inside her.

Marilyn shuddered. Had he just said he loved her? Or was that her own imagination comforting her with what she longed to hear?

Chapter Fifteen.

Easy French Chocolate Fondue Ingredients: 10 ounces milk chocolate (the more expensive, the better) 1/2 cup heavy cream 1/4 teaspoon cinnamon 1/4 teaspoon cloves Dash of nutmeg Break chocolate into small pieces, add other ingredients, stir on low heat until melted. Dip fruit and

enjoy! Marilyn was in ecstasy. Chocolate syrup, a second helping of dessert, a hunky Cajun and...visitors?

After their lovemaking, they'd showered then examined their melting dessert while wearing nothing but towels.

”Anyone ever made a sundae out of you?” He took a spoonful of the still softened ice cream and dribbled it onto her cleavage.

When she screamed, he ripped off her towel and began licking, catching the creamy mixture as it trickled between her b.r.e.a.s.t.s and onto her abdomen.

”How about you?” She yanked off Jackson's towel, grabbed the chocolate syrup and drizzled it across his c.o.c.k then dropped to her knees to suckle him, letting her tongue capture every drop until she could taste the slight salty texture of his skin as well as the sugary sauce.

”This ole floor's a mite hard.” He c.o.c.ked his head toward the bed.

”And get the sheets sticky? Eww!” She giggled and squealed.

He took the syrup from her hands and set it beside the ice cream he'd held. ”f.u.c.k the food. I'm hungry for you again.”

Marilyn grabbed the syrup just the same as he scooped her into his arms and headed into the other room. ”But I want chocolate. Don't worry-I'll make sure you're licked clean before the bed gets too messy.”

She and Jackson had no sooner started nibbling on one another in earnest than they heard a rustling outside Marilyn's cabin.

”Burglar?” she whispered anxiously.

”Doubt it. Most likely a squirrel.”

Marilyn pointed toward the shadow of a human falling against her bedroom curtains. ”Big squirrel.”

”What the h.e.l.l?” Jack rose from his position on the bed and crept toward the window.

”Come back here! What are you doing?” Marilyn whispered.

”Protecting you.”

”With what? Your Jockey shorts?”

Jack peered through the window, his eyes darting left then right, trying to catch whoever was outside Marilyn's cabin. Soon a woman's voice pierced the air.

”Jack? Are you in there?”

Jack shrank back, stumbled and sat on the bed, only to have Marilyn kick him in the b.u.t.t.

”Another of your admirers?” she asked, sn.i.g.g.e.ring.

”How should I know?” he whispered irritably.

Soon they heard a tapping at the cabin door. Jack grabbed his jeans and jerked them on as Marilyn leapt off the bed in her t-s.h.i.+rt and panties.

”You can't go to the door like that!” he cautioned.

She reached for the bathrobe draped across the foot of her bed. ”We can't just leave whoever is out there wondering why we don't answer them.”

”No!” Jack insisted. ”Don't open the door! What if it's my brother with her?”

”What if it's my father?”

”At this time of night?” they both whispered then burst into m.u.f.fled laughter.

Marilyn turned on the bedside light and motioned for him to go into the bathroom.

”Are you here if she asks for you?” Marilyn asked.

”No!”

”What if it's one of your relatives?”

”I have no idea who she is.”

”Well, she obviously thinks you're in here,” Marilyn said. ”So what do I tell her?”

”Tell her I'm fis.h.i.+ng or something.”

Marilyn rolled her eyes and headed for the door. A small brunette in her mid-fifties greeted her, holding a strange-looking plant in a plastic bucket.

”Marilyn?” the tiny woman squeaked, setting the plant on the picnic table. ”It's Marie!”

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