hands gripping her. Thrusting and pumping. Filling her completely. Taking her.
The feeling swelled up, lifted her, hurled her off the cliff.
She was sobbing when she came back to reality, her body still wrenched amd racked by jolts of pleasure. Still in one piece. Still Becca.
She got up, bumping into the furniture without her glasses.
Damn. Her glasses. She’d forgotten all about them in her frantic hurry to get away. She’d left them by the side of the swimming pool. Along with the mostly empty bottle of wine and…oh, God.
The keys. The poolhouse key had been on the A-frame’s key ring. The keys to Jerome’s house. Oh, no, no, no.
That was terrible. She couldn’t face a week on a deserted island alone in a myopic blur. Nor could she go back to Marla and tell her she’d lost the keys to Jerome’s house. How could she justify it? Because the neighbor was rude? Because he had seen her naked when she skinny-dipped? Please. Marla already considered her a fluffy-tailed, persnickety little rabbit with a twitching pink nose. Little Miss Nervous Wreck.
God, she was sick of being condescended to. By Justin, Kaia, Marla, Mr. Big. Even her little brother and sister were guilty of it.
She gathered up every last scrap of that lingerie, and tossed it into the fire. It smoldered, smothered by the synthetic fabrics.
Tomorrow morning she would march over to retrieve her belongings. And, incidentally, take the opportunity to tell that guy exactly what she thought of him. While sober. And clothed.
Her pride depended on it. As wobbly and fragile as it was right now, it simply could not take another hit.
Chapter
5
D r. Richard Mathes levered himself up from the damp, quivering body of his mistress and paused to enjoy the view. The charmingly submissive position, her double-jointed flexibility, the satin babydoll nightie shoved seductively up over her breasts—it was perfect.
His gaze turned critical as he observed the un-dynamic way that her breasts perched upon her rib cage. The colleague he’d referred Diana to for the breast enhancement surgery had overdone it. Smaller implants would have been better. Only in this position was the defect so evident, but unfortunately, this was one of his favorites. He liked to pin her ankles down on either side of her head and pound away with bruising force. It was the best way to wind down after a long stint in the operating room.
“Amazing.” Diana licked her full lips, and wiggled as he slipped out of her body, contracting her vaginal muscles as if to trap him inside her. “I knew it would be like this today. You were amazing with Jimmie.”
Jimmie Matlock was the sixteen-year-old boy who had gotten a new heart that day in a seven-hour surgery. Diana, in addition to being as skillful as an expensive call girl and always attuned to his sexual whims and moods, was also a competent anesthesiologist.
“You’re so fearless,” she crooned. “Nerves of ice. It makes me wet. Even in the operating room.”
“You shouldn’t think about sex while we’re working,” he snapped.
Her eyes widened. So did her legs, an automatic reflex that showed off her glistening vulva. “Scold me. I love it when you’re stern.”
“I know.” He turned away with insulting indifference, and opened her armoire, searching for one of the fresh shirts she kept for him.
The next line in the script was predictable. “I’m free tonight and tomorrow,” she said. “Can I see you?”
“No,” he said lightly. “Tonight I have to go to a musical with Helen and the girls. And tomorrow I have that meeting. As you know.”
Her face tightened. She sat up. “I don’t understand why it’s necessary to meet this Zhoglo in order to conduct business with him—”
“Do not say the name,” he reproved her sharply.
She rolled her eyes. “This is my bedroom. Don’t get paranoid.”
“I wouldn’t want certain information to slip in the wrong context.”
Diana arched her chest, pressing taut
The feeling swelled up, lifted her, hurled her off the cliff.
She was sobbing when she came back to reality, her body still wrenched amd racked by jolts of pleasure. Still in one piece. Still Becca.
She got up, bumping into the furniture without her glasses.
Damn. Her glasses. She’d forgotten all about them in her frantic hurry to get away. She’d left them by the side of the swimming pool. Along with the mostly empty bottle of wine and…oh, God.
The keys. The poolhouse key had been on the A-frame’s key ring. The keys to Jerome’s house. Oh, no, no, no.
That was terrible. She couldn’t face a week on a deserted island alone in a myopic blur. Nor could she go back to Marla and tell her she’d lost the keys to Jerome’s house. How could she justify it? Because the neighbor was rude? Because he had seen her naked when she skinny-dipped? Please. Marla already considered her a fluffy-tailed, persnickety little rabbit with a twitching pink nose. Little Miss Nervous Wreck.
God, she was sick of being condescended to. By Justin, Kaia, Marla, Mr. Big. Even her little brother and sister were guilty of it.
She gathered up every last scrap of that lingerie, and tossed it into the fire. It smoldered, smothered by the synthetic fabrics.
Tomorrow morning she would march over to retrieve her belongings. And, incidentally, take the opportunity to tell that guy exactly what she thought of him. While sober. And clothed.
Her pride depended on it. As wobbly and fragile as it was right now, it simply could not take another hit.
Chapter
5
D r. Richard Mathes levered himself up from the damp, quivering body of his mistress and paused to enjoy the view. The charmingly submissive position, her double-jointed flexibility, the satin babydoll nightie shoved seductively up over her breasts—it was perfect.
His gaze turned critical as he observed the un-dynamic way that her breasts perched upon her rib cage. The colleague he’d referred Diana to for the breast enhancement surgery had overdone it. Smaller implants would have been better. Only in this position was the defect so evident, but unfortunately, this was one of his favorites. He liked to pin her ankles down on either side of her head and pound away with bruising force. It was the best way to wind down after a long stint in the operating room.
“Amazing.” Diana licked her full lips, and wiggled as he slipped out of her body, contracting her vaginal muscles as if to trap him inside her. “I knew it would be like this today. You were amazing with Jimmie.”
Jimmie Matlock was the sixteen-year-old boy who had gotten a new heart that day in a seven-hour surgery. Diana, in addition to being as skillful as an expensive call girl and always attuned to his sexual whims and moods, was also a competent anesthesiologist.
“You’re so fearless,” she crooned. “Nerves of ice. It makes me wet. Even in the operating room.”
“You shouldn’t think about sex while we’re working,” he snapped.
Her eyes widened. So did her legs, an automatic reflex that showed off her glistening vulva. “Scold me. I love it when you’re stern.”
“I know.” He turned away with insulting indifference, and opened her armoire, searching for one of the fresh shirts she kept for him.
The next line in the script was predictable. “I’m free tonight and tomorrow,” she said. “Can I see you?”
“No,” he said lightly. “Tonight I have to go to a musical with Helen and the girls. And tomorrow I have that meeting. As you know.”
Her face tightened. She sat up. “I don’t understand why it’s necessary to meet this Zhoglo in order to conduct business with him—”
“Do not say the name,” he reproved her sharply.
She rolled her eyes. “This is my bedroom. Don’t get paranoid.”
“I wouldn’t want certain information to slip in the wrong context.”
Diana arched her chest, pressing taut
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