Unholy Union, page 14
All the women were ‘hon’ to Marty. He could have called her bitch and Elaine would have put up with it. This was the man who, with Ash’s help, had given her the dream. “I’m stubborn that way, I guess.”
Marty raised his martini glass to her while saying to Ash, “You always did have a knack UNHOLY UNION Tracy St. John 81
for sniffing out the looked-over talent.”
“You’ll agree this is my best find thus far.” Ash winked at her.
As the men continued to congratulate each other for discovering her, Elaine took the last sip of her wine. A waitress appeared at her elbow like magic with a tray of drinks. “Another cabernet?” the woman asked brightly.
“Thank you.”
As the waitress disappeared just as fast, Elaine saw Carla Engstrom and her female companion eyeing her. Somehow despite the chatter of the crowd and the band softly playing in the corner, she heard the companion say, “Forget the booze. Someone pass her the hors d’oeuvres tray.”
Carla snorted derision. “The fashionably skinny types are what drive our young girls to anorexia. Shameful.”
“Ash Moday always has gone for the stick figures. He’s had work done, hasn’t he? His nose is different, I think.”
Elaine flushed, looking away from the women. Stick figure? Her? Sure, she’d lost a few pounds, but she’d never been what anyone would call a stick figure. Her workouts, which she’d let slide in the excitement since Ash had come into her life, had seen to it that her figure remained healthy.
Jealousy. That’s all it is. Carla Engstrom probably hasn’t seen a single-digit size since she was sixteen.
But Ramirez’s comment from earlier that day echoed in her mind. Girlfriend, you’ve got the figure designers live for. Long and lean, like a drinking straw. You’d put some of those heifers on the runway to shame!
Suddenly shaky, she handed Ash her wine glass. “Would you gentlemen excuse me for a minute?”
His eyes were sharp on her. “Is everything all right?”
She smiled with cheerfulness she didn’t feel. She crossed her wrists behind her back and dropped her eyes in the submissive pose he preferred. “Fine. I just need to visit the powder room.”
He nodded and resumed his conversation with Just Call Me Marty, Hon. Holding onto the smile concealing the sick twist of worry in her stomach, Elaine left the men to their discussion.
Elaine was relieved to see the powder room was unoccupied. A long, well-lit mirror stretched over the vanity where a variety of toiletries awaited any woman who’d forgotten something important, say perfume, moisturizer, hair spray or even deodorant. Elaine tried to imagine Carla Engstrom rushing in to spray her pits. Bitch.
A couch sat along one richly papered wall. The room was all burgundy and gold, with even a chandelier. Who put a chandelier in the powder room, Elaine wondered? She shook her head.
She knew she was putting off looking in the oversized mirror, the reason she’d come in here in the first place. It was big enough to show her everything, and she was suddenly afraid of it. Ash had a full-length mirror in his apartment suite, but Elaine couldn’t remember seeing herself in it. Surely she’d looked over her appearance before tonight’s party, right? But she only remembered looking at herself in bits and pieces; checking out her perfectly styled up-do, the flawless eye-makeup that made her hazel eyes luminescent, the way her blue dress reflected iridescence when the lights hit it just so.
Had she somehow lied to herself about her appearance by refusing to see the whole Elaine?
Looking at the toes of her strappy pewter heels, she approached the mirror. It took phenomenal strength to raise her eyes to face herself. She gasped.
Elaine barely recognized the thin waif who stood before her. Her cheekbones stood out at sharp angles from her face. Her collarbones jutted, easily discerned in the spaghetti-strapped dress. The dress itself hung straight, barely disturbed by the bumps of her breasts and hips.
An image of Angela Suffolk, the writer who’d died from complications of anorexia after Ash had landed her a dream deal, erupted in Elaine’s mind. As she stared at the stranger in the mirror, the pictures of the doomed woman ran through her mental photo album, a time-lapse presentation of her waning figure as she’d starved herself to death. Elaine looked as Angela had at the halfway point, not too skinny to be called unhealthy, but verging on it.
Ash, what did you do to her? What are you doing to me?
But Ash fed her all the time, even insisted on her having seconds and desserts until she cried uncle. This morning he’d cooked breakfast, an immense feast of French toast, sausage, fruit salad and eggs. And she’d wolfed down a generous portion despite her worry she wouldn’t fit in the designer gown Ramirez had chosen for her.
The gown that hung from her shoulders like it might a wire hanger.
Elaine turned her back on her reflection and walked on numb legs to the couch. She sat down. She was too shocked to cry.
Maybe it had nothing to do with Ash, she thought. Maybe she was sick. Cancer?
Maybe. Maybe just vicious, run-of-the-mill cancer. Nothing supernatural in that.
She thought of the strange lassitude that came over her every time she and Ash made love. The weakness that left her unable to move sometimes. The way her heart sometimes seemed to skip beats.
He loves me. I know he does. He’d never hurt me.
She opened her clutch and took out her cell phone. She still hadn’t upgraded to a Blackberry or iPhone, though she meant to. An author with a big publishing contract needed such things, or so she thought.
Elaine flipped it open and grimaced to see the waiting voicemails, twenty in all. Father Thomas had tried to reach her sometimes twice a day since that morning in his office. She couldn’t bear to hear his voice, not after what she’d done to him. She also couldn’t erase the messages unheard. It was as if she kept a tenuous grasp on her old life, her Life Before Ash.
She went to her contacts and hit a button. She almost wept with relief when Harris answered after the first ring.
“Harris, it’s Elaine.”
“Big time writer! How’s the high life?”
It amazed her how much her spirits lifted to hear his gruff voice. “It’s great. I’m at a party with Sam Rush. Well, I’m not with him, but he’s here. Along with more celebrities than I can count.”
“I love Sam Rush’s movies. He’s the next John Wayne, if you ask me.”
The comment reminded Elaine of Vernon Slaughter’s framed picture of the Duke at his farm. Where Ash had first seen her.
“I need your investigative services again, Harris.”
“A rich client, just what I’ve always wanted. The check did clear, right?”
“Yeah, you can even charge for your meals.”
“I’m all yours, sugar mama.”
She licked her suddenly dry lips. “I want to know about all of Ash’s past clients. Where they are now, how they’re doing, especially any health concerns they might have had.”
“Trouble in paradise?”
“Let’s just say I’m cynical in my old age. His interest in me isn’t purely in writer-agent terms.” She hated to lie to Harris, especially when despite her fears she wanted to shout her love for Ash from the rooftops. Guilt that she was checking up on him filled her heart.
“Gotcha Curtis. You gotta protect that fat bank account after all. I’ll report back to you in a few days.” He hung up.
Elaine sat for a moment longer, collecting herself. What would she do if she found all Ash’s past clients had suffered health problems? Would she leave him?
Could she leave him?
“That’s the million dollar question,” she muttered, putting her phone into her clutch. She stood and approached the mirror, careful to not look at the whole Elaine this time. She focused on her lips, on the fire truck shade of red she spread over them, following up with a coating of gold lip gloss that gave her mouth a rich shimmer. Pretty.
Putting on her brightest smile, Elaine went back to the party.
Ash wrapped an arm about her waist when she rejoined him and Marty. Alarms went off in her head at once; Ash had his cat-in-the-cream expression on and Marty’s eyes were avid on her.
“Here is our lovely literary giant,” the editor said. His gaze greedily raked over her.
Elaine smiled uneasily. “Ash must have told you how well I respond to flattery.”
Ash leaned to whisper in her ear. “He’d like to see what else you respond to. He’d like us to go back to his penthouse and let him watch us make love.”
As her mouth dropped open in surprise, Marty hurried to add, “I won’t touch you, Elaine.
My interests are purely voyeuristic.”
Ash’s fingertips skated over her buttocks, gently bringing her nether regions alive with his tickling touch. “Here’s your chance to be watched. How do you feel about it?”
She was wet. To think of Marty’s burning eyes watching as Ash took her made her insides tremble. She swallowed and fought to keep her voice from shaking. “I’d like that.”
Marty’s face lit up like a Christmas tree. “Excellent. Shall we say our goodnights?” he asked with an eager smile.
Chapter Seventeen
Marty’s car wasn’t a stretch limo, but he did have a driver. For one heart-racing moment, Elaine thought it was Father Thomas holding the door to the Mercedes open. But after a moment, she saw how the driver’s features were wider, his powerful body blockier. The sudden terror and shame eased, and seeing how the driver’s gaze raked over her, she warmed anew.
Ash, Elaine and Marty crowded into the back seat. The car started, and they drove into Manhattan’s brightly lit night.
“The ride will take about fifteen minutes,” Marty informed them. His body couldn’t help but touch Elaine’s due to the close quarters, but she noticed he angled himself in such a way as to minimize their contact as much as possible.
“No need to wait, is there my love?” Ash kissed Elaine, his cool tongue sweeping into her mouth. Feeling Marty’s eyes on her, she eagerly responded. She thrilled to indulge this long-held fantasy.
Ash tugged at the thin strap of her dress, pulling it down over her shoulder. The bodice slowly folded down, exposing her breast. He drew back from the kiss, and cupped the soft mound, holding it up like an offering.
“Lovely,” Marty breathed. His gaze drank in the sight of Ash’s thumb rubbing her nipple, bringing it to stiff attention.
“Are you sure you wouldn’t like to touch?”
“Not me, but perhaps my driver could join you when we reach my home? He’s not adverse to indulging my interests.”
Elaine looked up to meet the driver’s stare in the rearview mirror. The man’s resemblance to Father Thomas again shook her, but in a good way. While not the real thing, he was close enough to pretend.
“Tell Marty you’ll be glad to entertain both of us.” Ash exposed her other breast, this time teasing Marty’s driver with the view. The dark man tilted his face in such a way so that his reflection showed Elaine how he licked his lips.
“Yes sir. Whatever you like, I’ll do,” she said, her voice breathless with need.
Marty clasped his hands together in anticipation. “Excellent.”
Ash grinned at her. “Hands behind your neck, my dear.”
Elaine clasped her fingers in the submissive position he’d taught her. The pose lifted her breasts higher for the men’s perusal.
Ash put his soft lips to work suckling her breasts. She moaned, unselfconscious with enjoyment as the driver’s dark gaze switched back and forth between the street and her. Ash put his arm beneath her buttocks, lifting Elaine to slide the skirt of her gown up until her freshly shaved mound was exposed.
“Open your legs,” he ordered.
Trembling with need, Elaine parted her thighs, exposing her rose-tinted labia to the men.
She watched the driver adjust his rearview mirror to take in the view.
Ash slid his fingers against her flesh, and she felt as if she was melting. She couldn’t stifle the sigh of desire as he explored her soft folds.
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“She’s very wet,” he told Marty.
Marty leaned over to see better in the dim light. “Yes. Please show me more.”
Ash spread her lips wide for Marty’s inspection. The editor still didn’t touch her, but Elaine could hear his quick breath fine. “Lovely. Lovely.”
Ash’s fingertip whorled around her clit, and she jerked with a moan at the excruciating pleasure. “Silence and be still,” he warned, his blue eyes like ice chips.
“Yes sir.” Elaine bit her lips together in the effort to obey and prayed they’d reach Marty’s home soon.
With only the dim light of the entryway, what Elaine could see of the penthouse was still dazzling. She sensed the opulence of the furnishings and the finery of the décor just by the brief glimpses of the hand-woven oriental rugs on the rich hardwood floors and finely wrought artwork that graced the walls of the hallway Marty led them down.
“We’ll use the guestroom,” he said, his quick thudding steps betraying his excitement.
Ash and Elaine followed with the dark, unnamed driver bringing up the rear.
“What little I can see of this place is beautiful,” she whispered to Ash. “It looks so damned respectable for a man with his kind of leanings.”
Ash grinned. “You’d be shocked to know what gets the supposedly morally upright men upright.”
Elaine giggled at his pun. She darted a glance at the silent man behind her. His calculating smile sent shivers racing through her.
She thrilled to the coming decadence.
Marty stopped in front of a closed door. With a flourish, he opened it and ushered them in. A flick of the light switch brought recessed lighting in the ceiling alive. The soft illumination bathed the room in a dreamy, golden glow.
It was a well-appointed room, as nice as a five-star hotel room. The large bed had a padded headboard that Elaine knew didn’t come from any department store. It had a custom look. In fact, the whole gold-and-white themed room looked made to order.
All that kept it from being a typical, if extremely high-end guest room were the mirrors.
Gold-framed mirrors lined three of the four walls, showing the massive bed from every possible angle. Elaine’s nervous excitement ratcheted up several notches.
“Cold in here, isn’t it?” the driver said. His voice was a deep, growly purr that matched his thick body.
Marty settled on a high-back chair placed against the unmirrored wall. It sat near the far corner at an angle that gave him a good view of the bed. “I turned up the thermostat.”
Ash ran a hand over the speckled white fur covering the bed. “Elaine will warm you up.”
The driver stepped close to her to take her coat off. “I’m sure she will.”
“Undress her slowly,” Marty said.
Ash and the driver did that, unwrapping her like a present with careful fingers. Marty grunted approval when they removed her gown to reveal her garter and stockings.
“Lovely, lovely. Take it all off,” he urged.
When she stood naked before him, Marty had her turn slowly before him. His lips were parted and his tongue peeked out as he looked her over. Elaine knew he had to see her wetness on the inside of her upper thighs.
Ash and the driver quickly shed their clothing as she presented herself to their host. Ash was as beautiful as always, and the driver was divine with his broad chest, wide shoulders and thick thighs. The erect stave between his legs was a delight to behold as well.
“Take her to bed,” Marty said in a hoarse voice. The crotch of his pants bulged.
The two men led her. Ash picked her up to lay her on the fur cover, and they climbed next to her. The massive bed easily accommodated the group.
“Spread her legs. Show her to me.”
Elaine lay quietly as each man gripped an ankle and opened her wide for Marty’s perusal.
He stepped up to the bed for a close look at her wet mound. Ash and the driver parted her petals with their fingertips, putting her innermost flesh on display for the editor. Elaine gripped handfuls of the fur as warm tingles invaded her belly.
After a long look Marty went back to his chair. “You may proceed.”
The men were on her in an instant. Their hands and mouths covered her, bringing sharp desire to the fore immediately. Ash kissed her mouth and upper body. His cool tongue swirled over her areolas, bringing her nipples to stiff peaks. Meanwhile, the driver concentrated on her nether regions. He licked and nibbled the insides of her thighs with the assurance of a man who knew what pleased a woman. His body was a warm counterpoint to Ash’s chill. The combination of heat and cold was heady seduction.
The driver spread her legs wider than before, almost to the point of discomfort. Elaine bore the deep stretch in her thighs without complaint. She was theirs to control for the pleasure of all three men. The driver once more spread the lips of her sex with his fingertips, displaying her like a rare piece of art for his employer’s delight before setting to work licking her with long, gorgeous strokes.
Elaine writhed under the attention. Ash sat up, moving to straddle her face with his groin. When the head of his penis touched her lips, she parted them to take him in.
His smooth length ran down her tongue, the pulse of the vein beating against her flesh.
Ash pumped slow and steady into the warm wetness of her mouth, and she tasted the saltiness of his skin. She thought of all the mirrors surrounding them, of how they must appear to their host; she splayed on the soft down of the speckled fur, Ash crouched
over her face, his eager shaft disappearing into her mouth and emerging shiny with wetness, the driver situated between her legs, his tongue bathing the glistening pink petals of her secret flesh.
The driver’s lips closed over her pleasure bud, sending lightning bolts of bliss into her womb. His finger probed at her opening, sliding in to explore her inner softness. Elaine moaned around Ash’s driving length as the invader was joined by its next door neighbor. The fingers plunged in as his tongue flicked over her clitoris, trapped in the firm grip of his lips.
