Standing In The Shadows. Shannon McKenna
and X-rated, but tonight the setting changed by itself, unguided by his conscious mind. The ultra-femme bedroom of his fantasies gave way to the crowded studio apartment in the Kinsdale. Painfully neat and organized, the braided rug brightening up the scarred linoleum floor, the crazy quilt covering the narrow cot. Heaps of books piled against the wall. Alphabetized, for God’s sake. How cute. Every detail lit by the patterned glow of the basket lamp and charged with erotic heat.
The Kinsdale room didn’t make him feel clumsy and alien like the fantasy bedroom did, but it was even more alluring, because Erin was all over it. Her practicality and tidiness, her whimsical sense of humor, her refusal to give in to self-pity. Bright colors, indomitable spirit. That room was sexier than any place he could have dreamed up on his own.
He buried his face in the coarse wool army blanket and let the fantasy unfold. He kissed the salty tears off her cheeks, and she opened and clung to him as he devoured her tender mouth. He knelt down and nuzzled the warmth of that velvety strip of skin between the T-shirt and the waistband of her jeans that had so tantalized him tonight. He popped the buttons of the jeans open and tongued her navel as he dragged those jeans and panties down over her curvy hips, her round ass. Slowly, inch by precious inch, reveling in her hot female smell: baby powder and flower petal and ocean salt. He breathed it, in big, greedy gulps. He peeled every scrap of clothing away until she was naked, arms held out to him, her eyes soft with trust.
Yeah. Trust. He shoved away the derisive voices in his head. This was his fantasy, and he’d run it how he damn well pleased.
She trembled as he put his arms around her from behind and explored the exquisite, plump fullness of her breasts. Vivid details were imprinted in his mind as if they were memories, not fantasies. Her nipples puckered against his hand, tender buttons of flesh aching to be tongued and suckled. Her hair clip pulled loose, and her glossy hair tumbled and slid across her shoulders like a swath of dark satin.
He slid his hand over the rounded swell of her belly, delving into her dark thatch, searching for hidden treasure in the wet, secret heat of her cleft. She tightened around his fingers and flung her head back against his shoulder, squirming and whimpering with pleasure.
He pushed her down onto the bed and pushed her soft thighs until they sprawled apart. He cupped her rosy ass cheeks, kissed and tongued the folds and hollows between her legs, the electric fuzz of dark hair. He opened her like a dripping fruit with his tongue, sliding it along the glistening, succulent folds of her labia, wallowing in her colors and flavors. Lazy and slow, taking his time. Suckling her clit, flicking and lashing it with his tongue. He would bury his head between her thighs and thrust his tongue deep. He would make her buck and writhe and press her cunt against his face, until she jerked and sobbed and came.
And then he would do it all again.
Usually he finished himself off with the next logical step; clambering over her damp body and shoving himself into her quivering depths, sliding deeper and slicker with each thrust until his orgasm thundered through him. Tonight, he didn’t get that far. He came along with her imagined orgasm, the pillow muffling his cry as he spurted into the washcloth. He pressed his face against the pillow, breath heaving.
When he lifted his head, he was startled to find his face wet with tears. That was weird. He wiped his cheek and stared at his wet hand for over a minute, but he was too tired to be overly freaked out about it.
He cleaned up in the back bathroom, dragged the blanket over himself and sank like a stone into real, honest-to-God sleep.
Chapter
4
“Sure, I can drop by and take care of kitty. No problem,” Tonia said. “I have to come by really early, though. That OK?”
“Sure. I always wake up at the crack of dawn anyway when I have to catch a plane. Thank you so much, Tonia. You’re an angel.”
“I know. Get some sleep, chica. You have to look gorgeous for the zillionaire. I’m so excited that you’re finally meeting him. ’Night, then. See you bright and early tomorrow morning.”
Erin hung up, crossed Call Tonia to feed Edna off the To Do list, and proceeded to pace around the room like a caged animal. Every dish was washed, every crumb wiped up, every doable item on the To Do list was crossed off, except for Pack, which rated its own separate list.
Her rolling carry-on was small, so she’d been forced to eliminate several items, the latest of which was the little black dress she’d thought to take in case Claude Mueller proved to be interesting. For some reason, the brief, devastating encounter with Connor had taken all the fizz out of that possibility. As long as she had this stupid crush on him, every man she met would suffer by comparison.
Not that she hadn’t tried. With Bradley, years before.
Something tightened up inside at the thought of Bradley. Ouch. Cancel that thought. If there was a fancy meal, she would wear her black pants and her silk blouse. Neat and sensible, and no chance that anyone could think she was hoping to attract romantic attention. She had no stomach for it. Which left room for the sewing kit, which she hated to leave. You always needed a sewing kit when you didn’t bring one.
She was climbing the walls. She needed to laugh, or cry, but if she started crying she might never stop. She needed sleep, so she could wow them with her professional fabulousness. She needed to stop thinking about the way Connor could melt her into a puddle of terrified yearning with one exquisitely gentle hug.
She needed distraction. Packing and neatening were not enough. She’d promised Mom that she would call Cindy tonight. Now there was a worthy problem. She had to save Cindy’s future from being derailed.
She dialed the group house where Cindy lived with her college girlfriends in Endicott Falls. “Hello?” responded a breathy voice.
“Hi. Victoria, right? It’s Erin, Cindy’s sister. Is she there?”
“No, she’s down in the city with Billy,” Victoria told her.
“Billy?” Erin’s stomach fluttered with unease. “Who’s Billy?”
“Oh, he’s her new boyfriend. He’s a really cool guy, Erin. Don’t worry, you’ll like him. He’s, like, totally hot.”
“What’s she doing in the city? Don’t you guys have finals?”
Victoria hesitated. “Um, I don’t know Cindy’s exam schedule,” she hedged, uncomfortable. “But I’ll tell her to call you when she gets back. Or you could try her cell phone.”
“Cell phone? Since when does Cindy have a cell phone?”
“Billy gave it to her,” Victoria bubbled. “He’s so cool. He gives her designer clothes, too. He drives a Jag, and Caitlin told me that Cindy told her that it’s not the only awesome car he’s got. Plus, he’s got a—”
“Victoria. Would you please give me Cindy’s cell phone number?”
“Sure. It’s right here on the message board.”
Erin wrote it down with white-knuckled fingers. She barely heard herself as she thanked Victoria and got off the phone. She sat there on the bed, trying to reason away the dread that sat inside her like a cold stone. She was just spooked, she told herself. This news about Novak, the strange scene with Mom, the unsettling episode with Connor, it had thrown her off balance, and she was seeing everything as sinister. There was no reason to panic yet. Maybe this Billy was a perfectly nice guy.
Uh-huh. Sure. A perfectly nice guy who happened to drive a Jaguar. Who showered a nineteen-year-old girl with expensive clothes and electronic toys and lured her away from school during finals week.
It was strange. It was scary. It stank.
Her parents’ reasoning behind encouraging Cindy to go to a private college in the small town of Endicott Falls was in the hopes that she would have more guidance and supervision than she might find in a big, sprawling public university. The thoughtless, impressionable Cindy was so eager to be liked. Willing