Love to Love You Baby

  * * *

  They pretty much fell through the doorway to the motel room together, hand in hand, two escapees making good on their getaway. Breathless. Giggling like fools about the way the desk clerk had goggled at Jack, asking for his autograph. All but abandoning the Corvette in the parking lot in their rush to get to their room.

  Jack kicked the door shut, tossed the key on its heavy metal ring in the direction of the king size bed. It hit the clock radio on the nightstand, and suddenly a voice was saying, “... your number one station. Next up, a newcomer and her sizzling, sexy hit, Every Night, Every Delight.”

  Jack stepped closer, his blue eyes dark, intense.

  “Aaaah, baby, every night.”

  Keely tried to breathe, couldn’t. Their laughter died, because, suddenly, there was nothing to laugh about anymore. There was nothing but Jack, and her. The four walls surrounding them, the bed behind them. And a growing tension, a growing need, that was almost suffocating.

  She put her hands on Jack’s shoulders, looked into his eyes. He looked hungry, almost as hungry as she felt.

  Her for him.

  Him for her.

  “Aaaah... every delight...”

  Keely gasped as his mouth took hers, hard, and fast, just as hard and fast as she returned his kiss. He buried his mouth against the side of her neck, and she pushed herself closer. Melted. Burned.

  Madness. Lovely madness.

  His hands were on her, roughly pulling her blouse free from her slacks as she buried her face against his chest. He smelled of sun and heat and man, and she tried to swallow, couldn’t.

  “... no place but you for me...”

  Keely tugged Jack’s golf shirt loose from his slacks, moaning in frustration because it had no buttons to open, the way he had already opened the buttons of her blouse.

  “.... when you’re here, its destiny...”

  “Off,” she managed to whisper, hoarsely, her breath gone. “Take it off.”

  Jack stepped back, ripped the shirt over his head, flung it toward the bed, then pushed Keely’s blouse down over her shoulders.

  “Oh, God,” he said, breathing heavily, looking at her, seeing the ivory lace underwire bra she’d put on earlier, with such low expectations. “You’re unbelievable.”

  “... Aaaah... aaaah... every night, every delight...”

  He seized her mouth again, even as his hands fumbled at the front closing of her bra until, just as impatient as he, she unhooked it herself.

  His hands touched her and Keely’s knees went weak, her body turned to liquid heat. She moaned into his mouth, moaned again as he pressed his lower body against hers, let her feel his hardness.

  “... aaaah... baby you’re my delight.”

  Together, they fell onto the bed, hands moving, zippers opening, clothing disappearing, not without a struggle.

  Again and again Jack’s mouth ground onto hers, his tongue probing, hers dueling in response. She held him, dug her nails into him, couldn’t get enough of him... never enough of him.

  “... do it, do it, do it, baby...”

  Her body was fire and ice, melting and shivering, responding wildly to his every touch. Her back arched as his mouth closed over her nipple, as he suckled her, as his hands cupped her hips, slid between her thighs.

  Not enough, not enough. She dragged at him, pulling him back up her body, just as much the aggressor as he, biting his bottom lip, nipping at his earlobe. Raining kisses all over his face, his neck. Stabbing her fingers into his hair, pulling him closer. Closer.

  Sweet madness.

  “Oh, oh, baby, yessssssss...”

  Jack’s aggression matched her own. He wouldn’t stop. His mouth on hers, his hands on her, all over her, inside her, stroking her most intimate parts, seeking... finding. Feeding her, thrilling her, tightening the already tightly coiled sensations in her belly until it became too much... too much and she flowed beneath him, flowered beneath him. Bloomed.

  “... yes, every night... yes, delight... oh, oh, oh!”

  She half-raised herself as he left her, rummaged madly in his slacks pocket. He threw his slacks, and they hit the clock radio, knocking it to the floor, silencing it.

  And then he was with her again, just as fierce and frantic as before, so that she quickly regained her own hunger that had been not quite sated.

  “Do you need more...?”

  “No... God, no...” Keely told him, reaching for him, opening herself to him.

  “Good, because I... I can’t... oh, God,” he moaned, sinking into her, filling her.

  She raised her legs, wrapped them around him, wrapped her arms around him, threw back her head as he began to move inside her. Slowly, but not for long. Nothing was happening slowly. He moved faster, and she lifted herself to meet thrust after thrust, feeling the pressure within her build, the need grow, and grow.

  His arms were around her, and he lifted his head slightly, then brought his lips to hers, moist, open, his tongue mimicking the movements of his body.

  “... Ooooh... oooh...”

  The sounds were Keely’s, ripped from her throat as her body convulsed, as the muscles in Jack’s back tensed beneath her hands and he joined her in a release so intense Keely thought she just might lose consciousness.

  Then it was quiet in the room. Perhaps too quiet, as Jack held her close for a few more moments, the only sounds that of their ragged breaths, their pounding hearts. Then, pressing a last kiss against her hair, he stood up, gathered his slacks and underwear, and headed for the bathroom, leaving Keely alone on the bed.

  Keely realized with a quick, embarrassed start, that she was glad he’d gone, glad he hadn’t talked to her, said something that he might not mean... or worse, something he did mean, like, “Sorry, we shouldn’t have done that. It won’t happen again.”

  She dressed quickly, her fingers fumbling with the buttons of her blouse. She extracted a comb from her purse, fixed her tangled hair, drew it back into the clip again. Did her best to ignore the sensations still tingling between her legs, the heavy fullness in her lower abdomen.

  Then, as the shower ran in the bathroom, she sat in the single chair in the room, her hands folded in her lap, wondering what would happen next.

  They could laugh at the same absurdities, argue with each other over any stupidity. They could have great sex together.

  But, obviously, they still couldn’t talk to each other. Not about anything important.

  There was a knock at the door and Keely, after quickly checking her reflection in the mirror, opened it, to see Mort Moore standing there.

  “Everything all right in here?” he asked. “I’ve got your luggage.”

  Keely stepped outside, her purse in her hand, and closed the door behind her. Without preamble, she asked, “How do I get a plane back to Pennsylvania? Allentown, Philadelphia, anywhere even close to Whitehall?”

  Mort screwed up his face, scratched a spot above his left ear. “Good question. Only private planes fly in and out of the airport here. I guess you’d have to get to Phoenix.”

  “Fine,” Keely told him, taking his arm and walking him toward the limousine parked beside the Corvette. “Tell this guy to take me to Phoenix. And I need an advance on my pay for today. In cash. I have to buy a ticket, and maybe a hotel room for the night. Scratch that: definitely a hotel room for the night. I want to stand in the shower for about three hours.”

  Mort looked back over his shoulder. “But—”

  “Two choices, Mort,” Keely told him, her heart pounding. She had to get away and she had to get away now, before Jack came looking for her. “Either lend me the money and the limo or become an accessory to murder. Because if I have to stay here another minute, Mort, you’re going to have one damned hysterical female on your hands. It could get ugly, Mort, really ugly. Your choice.”

  Mort looked at her, and Keely returned his look with an unblinking stare. “Well, that was very clear, wasn’t it? Do you mind if it’s big bills?”