Red Silk Scarf by Elizabeth Lowe Page B

trusting, so
fearless she invited trouble by leaving the apartment door unlocked, and
unchained.

 
    Inwardly, feeling
as if all his latent hostilities were waiting to turn on her, like a wild
stallion, male anatomy overruled his head, “How much,” he barked.   Unexpected words stealing through the iron
bars of his will that shocked even him.

 
    Like an
earthquake, his reply shook Cassidy’s foundation.   Determined not to drown in the cesspool of
his desire she shot back, “I don't work cheap.” Choking words that made the
constriction in her throat worse as she inspected the full lips bearing down
looking all too sensual, all too interested.   With the image of the possibility of a pending kiss sticking stubbornly
in her mind, she snapped abruptly, “and, kissing is extra,” hoping the
statement would become the life jacket she desperately required.

 
    If he remembered
how, Patrick would have laughed hysterically.   In spite of his racing pulse, what made her think he wanted a kiss from
her of all people?   Did she think he
would stoop that low?   The audacity of
her insinuation wrenched a cold smile and made rigid his features.   “I expected as much.   Besides kissing is not what I need,” he
snarled instead.  

 
    In a mad attempt
to stall what seemed inevitable, Cassidy managed, “The price depends on what
you want and how long it takes,” her make believe voice masking surprisingly
well the fragility of her rioting emotions.  

 
    How much would a
few seconds cost, Patrick wondered, certainly enough time at the pace she
aroused him.   What harm would it do,
eventually he'd take her anyway, an unwanted reflection that punched an
invisible anger button.  

 
    Hands roughly
compressing her narrow waist lifted her buttocks with a smack to the vanity
top.   Entering the realm of insanity,
vice like fingers gripping her knees jerked them apart to allow room for his
body.   Even when roughly hauling her to him
brought his enlarged penis slamming against her, Cassidy remained collected
denying the signs of fear he craved, or so she naively believed.   Her wide-eyed look revealing more than a hint
of desperation, the heaving of her chest, the barely audible shallow breaths
alerted him that he'd finally broke ground.   At last, he was in control.

 
    Making her squirm
shot unbelievable pleasure through him and induced a ravenous appetite for
more.   Without hesitation, a hand
slipping beneath the towel clutched a bare silky buttock.   The other coming to the back of her head
snugly gathered up damp strands of hair.   Actions any man might believe would trigger alarm, wrong; first, her
parting lips, then her moist tongue escaping and lastly the sweetness of her
breath entering the membranes of his mind nearly brought about a climax and
stripped him of nerve.  
               
    God forgive him,
Cassidy was positively irresistible, an unbelievable beauty without the harsh
makeup and psychedelic clothing.   Her slender,
firm frame adorned with abundant curves, all in the right places, were his for
the taking.   It would be so easy, just
like it always had been.   Like the
others, she'd allow him to do whatever he wanted his only penitence would be to
pay the price.   The problem was so would
Cassidy.  

 
    With her around,
how was he going to climb out of the hell he'd created?   How would her death make him feel?    Why should he give a shit, he sputtered
inwardly, Cassidy was a whore living life in the nowhere lane.   Was the price they'd pay be worth the few
seconds it would take to fuck her?   Sullivan would never know what changed his mind, his conscience or
self-worth taking a deep reviving breath or, his ability to lasso the evil
within before it left its lair.

 
    Please don't do
this, Cassidy’s mind pleaded.   If she
allowed him to kiss her, make love to her, he might . . . no Brady was going
down lying on her back.   The time would
soon come when