Part 19 (2/2)
This time, Marilyn's knees buckled, and she crumpled against the picnic table for support.
”C'mon, Ben,” Sam said, motioning for him to join him as he walked toward the Jeep and grabbed Ben's suitcase. ”This other young fellow will drive us to my cabin, where you can freshen up before your return flight.”
”Marilyn?” Ben asked, disbelief in his voice.
But she was already laughing and crying, oblivious as to what the others were doing, jumping to her feet and scrambling toward the rail where Jackson scooped her in his arms and held her tightly against his chest.
Marilyn threaded her fingers through his hair, locked her lips to Jackson's and quivered. ”You might let a girl know,” she said once she'd lifted her lips and heard the Jeep's engine revving. ”Give her some warning.”
”I take it this meets with your approval?” Jackson asked.
”You told my father that you can't cook?”
”I told him I was in love for the first time in my life, truly in love. It didn't seem proper not to divulge my dirty secrets if I intended to ask for his daughter's hand in marriage. He deserves to know what he's getting in a son-in-law.”
”I'm not letting you back out of this,” she warned.
”Don't intend to, chere. Don't intend to.” He leaned his head back a bit. ”I do have a bone to pick with you though. How come you didn't tell me you had a fiance waiting for you back in Boston?”
Marilyn bit her lips before replying. ”Jackson...”
”All this time you been houndin' me about not knowing how to cook, not to mention the times we been naked and you never brought up dis Ben fellow. Don't you think you owed it to me to at least let me know I had compet.i.tion?”
She smiled. ”Baby, you have never had any compet.i.tion.”
They turned toward the cabin as Colette coughed none too gently, reminding them that they weren't totally alone.
”Does this mean that Sam gets his Beef Flambe tonight?” she asked.
”He's teaching me how to cook it,” Jackson replied.
”What about the others?” Marilyn asked. ”Robert, Marie, the guests for the contest?”
”What with my compet.i.tion laid up with poison ivy, I could just play along and say that there is no contest,” Jackson said. ”But I figure the truth will come out eventually-I 'm going to just tell everyone that I'm a writer, not a chef, but that I'm learning. Just like them.” He s.h.i.+fted his weight from one foot to the other and sighed. ”G.o.dd.a.m.n it. That's not true either.”
”What? That you're not learning?”
”That I don't need to learn.”
Marilyn's jaw dropped. ”I thought we just covered this-many times. I thought you wanted to perfect this aspect of your career.”
His eyes darkened as he watched her lips part. ”Think you'd mind helping me along? Give me some pointers now and then that might improve my...uh...skills?”
Marilyn kissed him wildly. ”You don't need tutoring outside the kitchen, Jackson, and considering I certainly don't know how to cook, I don't see a problem.”
He released her so she could stand. He looked down at himself. ”Chere, I need a shower-I'm smellin' kinda ripe after my outing with your dad, but I don't have anything to wear. Give me a few minutes, and I'll get some clothes.”
Marilyn shook her head. ”Nah-you won't need them. I have something I want you to wear. Colette will go over to your cabin and pick up some jeans and a s.h.i.+rt for you to wear before we meet Dad.”
”I'm going to find Chuck,” Colette said, breezing past them. ”You may want to see Jackson wearing only that... well, what you have in there for him, but I'd rather see him fully dressed. Bye!”
Jackson's face held curiosity, but he did as Marilyn asked and followed her into the house, closing the door behind him. His eyes flamed with laughter as he saw the gift.
Besides his name, several slogans were embroidered on the ap.r.o.n-King Creole. Hot Stuff. Master Chef.
”Turn it over,” Marilyn suggested gently.
When he did, Jackson howled with laughter as he read-Red Hot Lover. ”Now how can I possibly refuse a gift like this?”
”You can't. Come here, Jackson,” Marilyn cooed, crooking a finger and beckoning him. ”I'll wash your back.”
Jackson's blood pooled into his groin, and the thought of her in his arms and his c.o.c.k inside her was too delicious to deny.
He undressed her slowly, savoring every morsel of skin exposed, dredging his tongue across her b.r.e.a.s.t.s and stomach as she stood quivering before him.
Slipping his fingers into her p.u.s.s.y, he murmured, ”Jess like I like it. Wet and juicy, ready for me.”
Marilyn melted against him. ”I'm always ready for you, even though you haven't told me...”
”Haven't I?” he asked, stripping off his clothes and backing her towards the bed.
”Not really.”
He grinned, holding himself steadily above her, moving his hips, teasing her with his c.o.c.k. ”You want declarations before or after?”
She grabbed his hips and helped guide him inside her.
”Just don't keep me waiting too long,” she said. ”You know how impulsive I am-I might decide to hop a plane back for New York.”
He rolled over with her on top of him and smacked her bottom, hips bucking as he helped her ride his c.o.c.k. ”I also know that once you set your sights on something, you don't let up.”
She moaned in satisfaction. ”Meaning?”
Jackson slid in and out of her, eliciting one cry of joy after another, his hands caressing her b.u.t.t and b.r.e.a.s.t.s, leaving no part of her untouched or wanting.
His voice was a low growl, a tortured promise. ”I will make you want me so badly that you will never leave!”
Heat resonated from her to the point that she was delirious, losing her mind, feeling nothing but a burning pleasure beyond anything she'd experienced. She climaxed... and again...and again...with Jackson's arms wrapped tightly around her, his voice in her ear bringing tears to her eyes.
”Je t'aime, ma chere. I love you, Marilyn! I love you-I love you-I love you!”
She heard her own voice mes.h.i.+ng with his, their chant a mantra that would last them a lifetime.
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