Soft Sounds of Pleasure (11 page)

She was the most naturally sensual woman he'd ever been with. Memories flipped through his mind, the single bead of sweat ten years ago, the way she hadn't made a move to cover herself that first time on her deck and the touch that had seduced him beyond caring about the husband he'd thought still alive. He thought about the way she'd taken him in her garage, recalled the day he'd delivered her truck to find her standing in her window as naked as the day she'd been born, watching and waiting for him, her hunger for him visible on her face.

Right down to the way she'd taken off her dress today, not hurrying, allowing him to savor the panties, the slow exposure of skin, the bra, then the way she'd straddled him, and then gracefully used him to masturbate without a second's hesitation. He thought about the devastating blow of her softly worded request, painting a picture in his head he could barely wait to make real.

There was no way he'd ever willingly let her go. He'd gladly fight a thousand angry devils to keep her. He'd let the devil take his sorry soul in the next life if it meant he could have her in this one.

With a jagged and bittersweet flash of insight, Colton understood why his father had been such a bitter bastard after his mother had left. The thought of Lila with any other man would turn him into a snarling, miserable beast.

* * * *

The steady press of something hard against her tummy woke her. Her lids drifted up to see intent green eyes staring at her. "Again," she agreed drowsily, and he rolled her quickly to her back.

"Again," he whispered, as he nudged her thighs apart with his knees and took his cock in hand. He rubbed the sensitive head against her clit, then slapped the bottom of his shaft against the slumbering spot several times.

Her hips rose off the mattress as she cried out. "You like that?" he asked, glancing up.

"Oh my God, yes," she breathed, feeling the immediate wetness the deliciously shocking contact created inside her.

He repeated the hard caress, each subsequent slap batting her desire higher. He shifted back onto his heels, his hands warm as he placed her feet on his taut thighs. His knees pressed against her ass as she felt him thrust into her. A drowsy smile crossed her face as she watched him watching his cock pierce her. His calloused thumb strummed her clit; he'd learned how to play her tune. He glanced up. His look took her breath, hollowing her tummy as his cock fought to fill the void.

"Play with those pretty tits for me, Delilah."

She did. She reveled in the hunger on his face as he flicked his gaze from the sight of her fingers tugging on her nipples to the way his cock looked going into her.

"When you feel me come, does that get you off?" he demanded.

"It does," she agreed, watching the tight smile her words brought to his face. "What happened to your need to protect me?" she teased.

"I'll never cheat us again," he vowed.

She felt the head of the monster find that certain spot. And settle there, stroking insistently, his eyes on her face now as pleasure ripped her apart.

* * * *

And fuck looking. He leaned over her, chest to chest, driving deeper as her legs clenched around him, her heels digging into the small of his back, urging him deeper still. He felt his glans strike her cervix as he listened to the sound she made with a smile. He drew back until only the head remained inside her, able to fuck her this time with controlled, powerful strokes, all the way in, nearly all the way out, slow and deep until her cries filled his head and the feel of her snug channel filled his soul. He needed to claim every inch of her pussy, revel again in the feel of every millimeter of her, and he did.

He fought the need to come as long as he could, but eventually went over, taking her with him as he felt his hot pleasure spill into her, making her clamp down and milk him until he was drained, as he enjoyed the sweet music of her cries. He buried his face against the soft skin of her throat, his teeth again nipping at her neck. "Got you, Delilah," he reminded her as she sobbed. "It's okay, sweetheart, I've got you."

He finally rolled off her, but before he could pull her into his arms again, she sat up. "I'm hungry," she announced. A growl underscored her words.

"Sorry, I'll go grab us something," he answered with a chuckle as he blindly patted her tummy. When he could move.

His eyes were closed as he tried to decide if the remains of the lunch left out on the porch were okay to feed her. But he felt his own hips come off the mattress as something warm and wet surrounded his still-throbbing cock. His eyes flew open to see her head bent over him. She sucked her way rapidly down to the base and then back up his sensitive shaft, smacking her lips as she released him and raised her tousled head. "I taste good on you," she said with a naughty grin that sliced off a piece of his soul, "but I'm going to get that plate of shrimp. You want beer?"

"Stay here," he ordered, thinking as he got out of bed that she definitely knew how to motivate a man. "I'll bring it to you." No way was she getting within reach of that dress. Not yet. And he needed to call the shop. Jonah was about to spend the night with his Uncle Dan.

Chapter Fifteen

At the bottom of the sixth inning, Lila stared thoughtfully at her scorebook as Colton, Daniel, and Eric talked excitedly about the game their nephew was pitching. Reggie had handed Jonah the ball, and Jonah had responded eagerly. His team backed him by putting five runs on the board, and the win appeared imminent.

She knew better than to count the game won. Stranger things had happened than the other team reeling off six runs in a half-inning. But the situation looked good. Something else did not. She added up the little numbers she jotted at the top of each column that represented an inning after she flipped her score book back to the Tiger's page.

It was her habit to add up the balls and strikes, plus the checkmarks she made to indicate that a pitch had been fouled off after a pitcher had gotten two strikes on the batter, and put the total at the top of the column, a simple way she'd devised to track the total pitches thrown.

Jonah had thrown ninety-five pitches, not counting the five warm-up pitches he got each inning before play resumed. That was another thirty pitches, pitches no one counted. Fifteen more than she felt his coach should ask Jonah for, but she knew those additional pitches meant Reggie didn't have to use one of the two other guys he had who could pitch and cost him one of the other kid's eligible innings.

The league limited innings pitched as their safety measure, not pitches thrown, as Lila wished they would change the rules to do. Reggie wouldn't be sending him back to the mound, she decided. With a five-run lead, he'd protect both his lead and—somewhat belatedly, in her opinion—Jonah's arm by sending someone else in to pitch.

The Tigers went down quickly and quietly in the top of the seventh, two striking out and one tapping the ball weakly back to the pitcher to end the top half of the final inning. The Raptors, as the designated home team, got one last chance to even up the score. Lila prepared to pencil in the substitutions for the Tigers, but Reggie didn't approach the home plate umpire. She felt her jaw drop as Jonah trudged back to the mound and took his five warm-up pitches, his face impassive.

Colton had picked up a lot about baseball in the last few weeks. "Look, guys, he's getting a chance for the complete game win." He clapped loudly and put his fingers to his mouth for a shrill whistle. "Let's do this, Jonah. Go get 'em."

Lila darted a look at Colton after Jonah quickly went full count on the batter, three balls and two strikes. To her eye, the kid was hurting. Three hard foul balls later, the batter finally chased the pitch she'd taught Jonah and missed, and he stalked off the field, slinging his helmet in disgust.

Lila wanted to sling a helmet too—at Reggie.

One out. She bubbled in the circle in her book. Nine pitches, she added mentally.

The next batter swung at the first pitch, and the bat hit the ball, popping it straight up in the humid evening air.

"Dustin!" Lila yelled, jabbing her pencil skyward. "Up, up!" The catcher threw off his mask and made a belly flop, stretching out to catch the ball, too exhausted to jump to his feet. Another circle bubbled in. Two outs, two pitches. Eleven pitches so far. Jonah ground his hand into his mitt. Lila was grinding her teeth.

Jonah walked the next batter on four straight balls.
The walk might've been intentional
, she thought, a conscious decision on his part not to throw strikes, but she didn't believe that was the case. He was running out of gas, and no wonder. Fifteen pitches.

Colton and the other proud uncles were yelling, clapping, and whistling, as were the other Tiger parents. The win was close now. Lila, like everyone else in the stadium, had her eyes fastened on Jonah. She'd have sworn she could hear the grunt of pain signaled by his grimace as he pulled the ball out of his glove and tucked his beleaguered arm behind him, leaned forward, and looked in at Dustin for the sign. His dark hair was plastered to his neck.

She wondered what the call would be. His fastball had lost some speed and his curve ball was always iffy at best. But she didn't want him to throw Charlie's pitch. He'd been using it all night while she had glared at Reggie after figuring out the signal he was using to call for Jonah to throw the breaking ball.

Jonah threw the fast ball, and the batter turned the pitch around, sending the ball in a long, low arc to drop in the grass in right center. One pitch, one hit, the Raptors had a slight glimmer of hope. As Jonah came ready to pitch to the next batter, the runner, who had pulled up at second, clapped and stepped repeatedly off the base.

Lila's heart was slamming against her ribs, more from outrage than from excitement.

The second baseman made no attempt to hold the runner on the bag. She saw something flicker in Jonah's face. Pick-off attempt, she guessed. Perhaps Dustin was as aware of Jonah's distress as she was. That was part of a catcher's job, after all.

The runner tagged, Jonah came set. The runner broke off second as Jonah's pitch was wide and outside. Exactly where Dustin needed it to be. The catcher gunned the ball to the shortstop, who tagged the breaking runner for out three. Ball game, win. Quite the flashy ending. Colton and his brothers went nuts, leading the other Tiger fans into a wild orgy of back-slapping and high-fiving as Lila blew out the breath she'd been holding.

Her attention was on Jonah. The relief on his face was evident. So was his pain as Dustin clapped him on the back and the shortstop, Jamie, dropped the ball into Jonah's glove. Of course he'd want the souvenir of his complete game shut-out win, but he didn't high-five anyone, she noted through narrowed eyes.

She went back to her math while the team went through their post-game rituals of coach pep talk and snacks. Seventeen pitches, bringing his total to one-hundred and twelve, plus those thirty-five warm-up tosses. One hell of a workday for a major league pitcher, much less a thirteen-year-old kid. Around her, the De Marco clan was still rejoicing, but she didn't join in. Far too many pitches. What was Reggie thinking? She stewed on the problem as the men decided where to grab a bite to eat.

* * * *

Cutting a glance at Jonah, and one to the obviously clueless Colton, as she waited for her burger and home-cut fries, she got up and walked to the counter, making a request. The waitress smiled and disappeared into the kitchen, returning with a gallon-sized plastic storage bag full of ice and a roll of plastic wrap.

Wordlessly, Lila returned to the table and stood behind Jonah, touching his other shoulder. She held up the bag as he glanced behind him. "Let's ice you down, okay?"

Eric teased him about thinking he was big-time as Lila wound the plastic wrap over the bag of ice and across his chest under his opposite arm, then back over the hurting shoulder a few times. "Thanks, Lila," Jonah said appreciatively.

Eric spoke to her as she doused her steaming fries with malt vinegar before dredging them through the ketchup. "That's kind of old-school, never saw anyone do that to fries since my grandpa died."

And then, "So, in your vast experience, Lila, is my nephew a pretty decent player?"

Lila smiled at Jonah. "He can play."

"Pass me that ketchup, little brother."

"Lila, can you or my baby brother hand me a napkin, please?"

This was the first time she'd been with the entire brood away from the garage, and Eric was making her painfully aware that Colton was the youngest of the three brothers.

They began a masculine ritual of jeers and insults, the brothers taunting each other as well as Jonah and her, but there was an extra bite to the comments Eric taunted her with. Something about his jokes felt more mean than funny. In other words, he thought she was too old to be with Colton.

Good thing then it was just a casual fling. That was a battle she couldn't win.

* * * *

Lila examined the massive three-piece breakfront with something between disgust and amusement. It had been painted orange, the paint dulled with umber streaks to give the trademark look idiots referred to in the 1970s as "antiquing." For good measure, eagle decals in dull gold had been applied to the solid bottom doors, turning an expensive piece into some sort of Early American travesty. There was some damage to the veneer at the edges of the cabinet's doors, but she'd repaired worse. The damage was likely what had prompted the makeover. The khaki-skirted owner hovered anxiously in her elegant pumps, waiting to hear Lila's price to restore the item to its former glory. Inherited, she had informed Lila proudly, from her dear dead aunt in Georgia.

Meaning it had been free, and the woman might have a case of sticker shock when she heard the price in Lila's head. If so, maybe she could offer to buy the breakfront. Somehow. She made a small prayer the woman would accept her bid and give her the job. "Thirty-three hundred," she said firmly. "And three weeks," she added, knowing it would take her every day of that.

"Wow, is that all?" The lady twisted her pearl necklace as she stared at Lila in amazement. "One guy told me four thousand; the other guy was even higher."

Lila breathed a quiet sigh of relief and counted her bills paid for another month.

She used her hand trucks to load the two smaller side pieces into the back of her truck with a bit of assistance from the lady in pearls, then unloaded them quickly back at her garage, going right back for the center piece.

"Thank you so much," the lady said before she pulled off with the middle section. "My husband doesn't think this project is worthwhile. He's younger than me, you see, by a decade, and he thinks we should just buy a new one. I'm doing this behind his back."

Something without flaws or defects, something pristine? Something not old? Lila wondered if the woman saw the irony in her remarks. Was Mr. Pearls and Pumps another version of a youthful Pete, or was this conversation some kind of cosmic reinforcement of Eric's message? "Something of similar quality would cost a great deal more than four thousand," Lila replied. She gave the woman a wink designed to reassure them both. "I'll bring it back, and the next thing you know, he'll be telling your friends it was his idea to have it restored."