The Red-Hot Cajun

  She was ready.

  And so was Rene, if how he stood in the open doorway waiting for her was any indication. He wore a white Toby Keith concert shirt that read Who’s Your Daddy? and black jogging pants. Barefooted, he came down the steps slowly, paid the cab driver, and took her luggage in each of his hands. He motioned with his head for her to precede him up the steps.

  But she dug in her heels. “Aren’t you even going to say hi, or give me a kiss hello?”

  “Hell, no,” he said, looking directly at her for the first time. She saw the smoldering heat in his eyes, and it almost scared her. Almost. “If I kiss you now, we’ll end up having sex on my front steps, and I’ll explode way too soon. I have a history of that, as you know.”

  God, he’s still fixating over what happened nineteen years ago. How sweet! Satisfied that he was happy to see her, even without the words and actions, she walked up the steps in front of him, making sure she swished her hips from side to side.

  “You are going to pay for that,” she thought she heard him mutter. Then he asked, presumably staring at her swishing behind, “Are you wearing a thong?”

  She smiled to herself and peered at him over her shoulder, then winked. “No.”

  It took him several moments to register that she meant that she wore nothing. His jaw dropped open and he said, “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph!”

  What happened next was so quick, her brain spun. She stepped into the hallway and was about to comment on his collection of expressionist watercolors when the door slammed behind her, Rene dropped her luggage to the floor, and she was pinned up against the wall with her skirt up to her waist. Rene was running his hands over her backside... her panty-clad backside. “You fibbed,” he said, nipping at her mouth with his teeth.

  “Did you honestly think I would go through airport security with no underwear? They would probably have insisted on a cavity search.”

  “I could do that,” he offered. But then he dropped down to his knees in front of her. Pressing his face against her belly, he held her with arms around her thighs. The silence in the hallway was deafening.

  “Rene:? What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing’s wrong. Everything is right, finally, and it took my breath away.”

  “Oh, Rene,” she said softly, and sank down to her knees, too. Taking his face in her hands, she kissed him gently. “Let’s just take this slow. We don’t have anything to prove here.”

  “Hah! You might not, but I do.”

  “Forget about that. Now, do you want to give me a tour of your home?”

  “No. I’d much rather do a body tour... or two... or twelve.”

  He kissed her then. Hungry, hungry kisses that went on forever. His mouth was wet and hot on her, his tongue driving, his hands everywhere at once. Somehow they found themselves on the floor, with him lying on top of her.

  “Oh, shit, we’re going to have sex on the hallway floor, aren’t we?”

  “I hope so.” She shrugged out of her panties the best she could with him on top of her. Reaching a hand inside the stretch waistband of his pants, she took the hard length of him in her hand.

  “Jeeeeeeeesh!” he shouted, shoving her hand aside. “Don’t do that. Not yet. Holy-holy-holy-holy-hell!

  What are you doing to me? Let me get up. We’ll go to my bedroom.”

  “No! Now! I want you now,” she said, arching her hips up against his rampant erection. “I want you freakin’ now.”

  “What? Okay. No. I need to go get a condom.”

  “Don’t worry. I’m on the pill.”

  “Two years of celibacy and you’re on the pill. Why?”

  “Uh, Rene, can we discuss this later?”

  “Oh. Yeah.” Panting for breath, he pushed his pants down, while she drew her skirt up, and within seconds he was poised at her entrance. Then, oh my God, he thrust himself into her, all the way to forever.

  Her inner muscles clasped and unclasped around him in an instantaneous orgasm that about blew her lid off and melted her red nail lacquer.

  When she had a chance to catch her breath, she looked at Rene. Eyes closed, he was braced on his forearms. His neck arched back, the cords standing out with tension. And he was still hard inside her, God bless him. Why was he holding back? Oh. That old premature ejaculation fixation of his. “Move, dammit.”

  He opened his eyes and stared at her, dazed. “I want to fuck you so bad I can taste it.”

  “Then do it.”

  “It’s too soon.”

  “No. It’s way too late, baby. Come on. Please. Come on.”

  He smiled then and slowly, ever so slowly eased out of her almost all the way, then just as slowly back again. The friction was sweet torture.

  “Wider,” he said in a voice husky with arousal. Pushing her knees up and out, he demonstrated what he meant.

  And she felt him ease in another unbelievable inch or more. And his pubic bone touched her in just the right spot. And red stars danced in front of her open eyes.

  “You feel... so good... in me,” she gasped out.

  “I feel so good being in you,” he said, also gasping.

  Then began the long, long strokes, in and out, over and over till Valerie thought she would go mad. She moaned continuously. She wrapped her legs around his hips. She grasped his buttocks and kneaded them.

  For a guy who worried about popping off too quick, Rene was taking an awfully long time to climax.

  In fact, he stopped. Deeply imbedded in her, he reached down and separated her more so the most sensitive part of her was more exposed. Then he said, “Look at us, darlin’.”

  Her dark hair was mixed with his dark hair there. It was impossible to tell where she ended or he began, or vice versa.

  “Sweet, huh?” His voice was husky and low.

  “Sweet,” she agreed.

  Then he began the hard, fast strokes she’d been yearning for. Everything was happening so fast now.

  Sensations hit her in every part of her body. Where they were joined. Inside. Her breasts. All of her skin.

  And the noise. The slick, wet sounds of sex. The moans, from both of them.

  He arched his back, bared his teeth and groaned, “Yessss!”

  She would have yelled “Yessss!” too, except she was concentrating on not having her eyes roll back in her head. But she went with him on that wave of ecstasy, hard ripples of released tension emanating from their joining to all parts of both their bodies.

  Laughing, Rene raised himself up on his elbows and brushed several stray curls off her forehead. So much for her hundred-dollar hairdo! “Cryin’ catfish, Val. I haven’t made love with my pants around my ankles since I was a teenager.”

  “And I’ve never made love inside the front door on the floor. But we were good, weren’t we?”

  Rene looked at Val, who looked so incredibly hot with her sex-mussed hair and her flushed face that his heart constricted. He wanted to say so many things to her. Instead, all he said was, “Damn good.”

  He eased himself out of her in painful pleasure, then stood, pulled up his sweat pants and jockeys all at once. For a second, he just stared at her, taking in the picture of her with her lower body exposed up to her waist. Moisture glistened on the tight curls between her legs, and didn’t that make him feel all studly and full of himself? He’d come through just fine, double entendre intended.

  But, whoa, suddenly he was turned on again. They had the whole night before them... hell, they might even have a lifetime. He had to pace himself.

  Reaching down, he took her hand and pulled her to her feet and into his arms. He just hugged her for a moment, and murmured “thank you” into her ear.

  She leaned her head back and said, “Hey, thank you.”

  Icould love her.

  Where that thought came from, he had no idea, but son-of-a-gun that was dangerous territory this early in the game... even late in the game. Still, the voice in his head repeated, I could love her. It was probably that pesty St. Jude planting insidious
ideas in his brain. That had to be it.

  “It’s not every day a girl gets to end her two-year drought in such spectacular fashion. Let’s hope my next lengthy period of self-denial has a guy like you at the end of it.”

  The prospect of her going celibate again bothered him a lot. Even more bothersome was the prospect of her with another man. It was not going to happen, he decided then and there, neither of those things. But he wasn’t going to think about the implications of his resolution.

  He gave her a tour of the house, which didn’t take all that long. There were only two bedrooms, one of which he used as an office. It was a basic man’s place with minimal furniture, though what he had was good handcrafted stuff. On the hardwood floors were Cajun woven carpets in bright colors. Of course, he did have the odd accessory—though not so odd for his family—of an assortment of St. Jude statues in every room. There was even a St. Jude refrigerator magnet. And there was an accordion on top of the fridge.

  The town house’s biggest drawback now was that it was in the middle of the capital city—an asset when he worked as a lobbyist. But it was not near the bayous he loved. That would change now.

  “Are you hungry?” he asked. “I bought Chinese.”

  “Chinese for a Cajun? Isn’t that a sacrilege or something?”

  He grinned. “It probably has okra or crawfish in it somewhere. You can’t totally get away from Cajun anywhere in Southern Loo-zee-anna.”

  “I am hungry,” she said, “but let’s wait. I’m still too excited to eat.”

  Rene about swallowed his tongue at that casually dropped bombshell. She is still excited. Thank you, God!

  God has nothing to do with it, the voice in his head said, “Do you have any wine?”

  “I do. And it’s chilled, too.”

  They both sipped at the chilled sauvignon. Then Rene walked over to the stereo and flipped a switch.

  A soft Cajun instrumental came on. “Will you take off your shirt?” he asked abruptly as he turned back to her. She stood framed in the kitchen archway.

  Her eyes went wide with surprise.

  “I want to see you.” When she didn’t immediately do as he asked, probably due to shyness, he set his glass down and pulled his own shirt over his head, dropping it to the floor. “You can see mine first.”

  She gave a short hoot of a laugh. Like the trade would be anywhere equal. But she did put her drink on the kitchen table, then tugged the hem of her shirt out of the skirt. Ever so slowly, like a born temptress, she drew it over her head.

  He studied her for a moment. “Man oh man, I didn’t think anything could be better than your heart-shaped ass. I was wrong, your champagne breasts are a tie, at least.” Valerie Breaux is a hottie.

  Whooee!

  “Heart-shaped. . . ?” she started to sputter, then smiled. “Champagne and hearts, huh? I like that.”

  “Not nearly as much as I do, darlin’.” What a lucky guy I am!

  “What now?” she asked with a flushed face as he continued to stare at her. “I’m kind of rusty at this.

  Actually, I never was very good.”

  “Don’t underestimate yourself, baby. You’re good, all right.” He held his arms out for her. “Let’s dance.”

  He could tell his request surprised her. Always best to keep the ladies guessing. She’d probably thought he was going to skip all the foreplay and just jump her bones again. Hah! I am getting my smoothness back by leaps and bounds.

  Flicking off her sandals, she came toward him, wearing only her gauzy skirt. Fair exchange. He only had sweats on and no shoes, as well. He took her in his arms and danced. He loved to dance. He especially loved dancing with Val with her breasts nestled in his chest hairs. He shifted himself from side to side several times to abrade her nipples to hard peaks. Her small gasp of pleasure was his reward.

  He moved expertly to the rhythm, and Val followed him perfectly. They were a good match.

  He ran the flats of his hands down her bare back. She did the same to him, then daringly slid her hands inside his pants and cupped his buttocks.

  He about lost it then. It took all his self-control to set her away from him, still devouring her with his eyes. Her breasts were pink-tipped and hard as pebbles. He touched them with his fingertips, and she inhaled sharply with pleasure, then arched her back slightly so he would touch her more. But, no, he had other things in mind. Undoing the waistband of her skirt, he let it slide to the floor in a frothy puddle. This was his first full-fledged look at her body, and she was beautiful. All white pearly skin that curved in all the right places. No fashionably skinny frame like other women yearned to have. More the softness that most men preferred.

  Lifting her by the waist, he sat her on the back of his couch, her feet on the seat. Since it was freestanding, not against a wall, she had to hold on with her hands to avoid falling backward. “Open for me, babe,” he urged.

  Her face flooded with color and she started to balk. “I don’t like this, Rene.”

  “For me, chère. Do it for me. I want to know all of you.”

  Slowly, she parted her legs, but not very far.

  He arched his brows at her. “Surely you’re not afraid. I didn’t think you were afraid of anything. Not snakes, or smarmy producers, or wiley Cajuns.”

  At that challenge, she raised her chin high and parted her knees wide. She was fully and completely exposed to him.

  He shimmied out of his pants, the whole time looking at her there. Then he glanced down at the erection he was sporting, then back to her face. “This is what you do to me. This is how much I enjoy looking at you.” He touched himself briefly, running a loose fist from his balls to his tip, and became even bigger. She gasped with shock at his gesture. “Men like to watch women touching themselves. Do you enjoy watching me?” he asked.

  Her face got even redder. “I don’t know. It’s new to me. Maybe.”

  He fisted himself again, but only briefly. He didn’t want to come this way. “This is a reflection of how attractive you are to me. That’s all I’m trying to show you.”

  “Let’s make love then. No more of me on display.”

  “We will make love, darlin’. More than once. But first, we do it my way. Okay?” Please, please, please.

  She hesitated, but then she nodded.

  Ithink I’ll say a novena of thank s tomorrow. . . or next week .. .or I’ll ask Tante Lulu to say one for me. No, I can’t do that. She would ask me what I’m thankful for.

  He knelt on the floor in front of the couch and used the fingertips of both hands to part her folds more.

  Her nether lips were pink and slick with moisture.

  “You are beautiful there. Did you know that?”

  She shook her head slightly, which was charming, really.

  “I’m going to taste you now. Hold on tight.” He leaned forward and ran the tip of his tongue up one side and down the other.

  She shivered and made a small whimpering sound.

  He repeated the same journey several more times with his tongue and his fingertips, sometimes alternating with fluttery vibrations. But always he avoided the one place he knew she wanted to be touched.

  Finally, he tongued her there, light butterfly sweeps at first, then fast, fast, fast. She was keening continuously then.

  But he had more in store for her. Much more.

  Inserting a long middle finger inside of her, he massaged her inside and used a rhythmic pumping of the heel of his hand on the outside so he was coming at her from both sides.

  She screamed, she actually screamed as wave after wave of convulsions shook her. It was the most erotic thing he’d ever heard.

  She wilted then and would have collapsed backward, except he caught her in his arms, and in one deft move, he was lying on his back lengthwise on the couch with her on top of him.

  “Are you ready to make love now, darlin’?” he inquired.

  She started to laugh with incredulity at his question. But she soon stopped laughing when he
raised her up so she was sitting on him, her legs folded on either side of his hips. He arched his body upward, and within seconds, she was impaled on him.

  At first, she just blinked at him, too shocked at the position she was in. But then, he felt her inner folds accommodated his width and length. And she smiled.

  Smiling is good. Smiling means I’m doing something right.

  “That’s nice,” she said.

  “Nice?” he exclaimed. “Nice is a sweet kiss on the cheek. Nice is a grandma word for good girls. Nice is a sweet praline. This is definitely not nice. This is spectacular.” And it was. He’d never felt this virile before in his life. Maybe he was so good because she was so good.

  “Rene?”

  “Hmmmm?” He was trying to focus his attention on non-relevant things to delay his orgasm. After all this effort, he didn’t want to come too soon. Tante Lulu doing a belly dance. Me catching a five-pound catfish. The time I helped a lady have a baby in the back of her station wagon. Ok ra.

  “I don’t think I can do this again.”

  “Huh?” Oh, no, no, no. You are not going to pull a “This was a mistake “ on me now. No, no, no. “Am I hurting you?”

  “No, you’re not hurting me,” she said, grinding her hips around it in a circular fashion to demonstrate.

  It felt that little bit of friction like manna from heaven, and Rene closed his eyes for a second, just in case they’d crossed.

  “I just meant that I don’t think I can come again so soon. And I don’t think I have the energy—”

  Oh. Is that all? “I’m gonna give you energy all right. And I promise you, baby, you can come again.”

  She laughed, whether in disbelief or in reaction to the vehemence of his response, he didn’t know... or care.

  Valerie was in fact laughing out of sheer joy. She had never felt such freedom before. No inhibitions.

  No worries about how she looked or whether her actions were normal. Rene made her feel as if anything she did would give him pleasure. She loved him for that. In fact, I could love this man. For a moment, Valerie froze. She had no idea where that mind blip had come from. Probably she was having a delayed reaction to having thrown her career away, at least the career she had thought she always wanted. But there were surprisingly no regrets. And in the midst of all these liberating feelings was this man. Later, she might think he was a pig, but for now he was gorgeous and thoughtful and playful... and oh my gracious what was that he was doing now? Ay yi yi!