Stephanie Vaughan

Excerpt: Dead Man's Party

"Watch where you're stepping. There are several loose boards in this
section, too."

Rick's warning to Catherine as they moved through the old house
arose as much from self-preservation as concern for her well-being.
The slant of the sun's rays was long this time of year, casting
shadows that she wove her way between. The smooth muscles that
twitched so enticingly underneath her skirt as she walked two steps
ahead of him toward the back of the mansion were the definition of
temptation. He wanted to take one of those ass cheeks in each hand
and sink his teeth into their succulent flesh. Rick could almost taste
them already; how his tongue would slide smoothly over first one,
then the other, while he held her firmly in place with hands and
teeth.

He wanted to smack himself upside the head, though, for giving in to
her request to show her the rest of the house. All it had taken was a
flash of those blue eyes of hers and a softly spoken 'Please?' and
he'd been putty in her hands. Shit. She could be a total leadfoot and
he'd be willing to bet that she'd never gotten a ticket in her life. A
couple bats of those eyes of hers and what cop stood a chance?
Why should he be any different?

"Oh, look! There it is -- the wash-up sink." Catherine, her voice
brimming with excitement, tore her eyes away from the oddly placed
sink to smile back at him. Barely two feet from the ground, it would
have looked more at home on a kindergarten play yard than the mud
room of an old Victorian. But it was the passion that lit her eyes and
the radiance of her smile that stopped the breath in Rick's lungs.

"Isn't it something?"

She seemed to be looking for some kind of confirmation from him.

"Yeah. I guess." He shrugged, breathing out at last. "They had big
families in those days. A sink for the kids made sense back then."

"Oh, it wasn't for children -- far from it." A hint of amusement crept
into her voice at that. "It was for the men. The customers. And it
wasn't hands they were washing."

A door opened in Rick's mind and he stepped into a roomful of
memories.

"Here. Let me help you wash up, love. You've had a long day."

Cat, her beautiful black hair sliding in inky waves across her silk-clad
shoulders, reached for the buttons at his waist. Her fingers,
roughened by the hard work he knew she did, taking exquisite care
as she slowly unbuttoned his trousers. Gently shoving the
suspenders off his shoulders, her hands a caress to his aching
muscles, she went to work next on his shirt.

Before removing his shirt, she first scraped her short nails across
his chest, the wool abrading the sensitive flesh of his nipples. As he
bent slightly, to help her pull the shirt off over his head, his lovely
Cat dipped her head to lick and soothe the skin she had teased just
moments before.

"Catherine Mary Murphy, I do love you." The words threatened to
choke him, so thick did they feel in his throat. He knew he had no
right to speak them, and he never had before this moment. But
once, just this once, he had to voice what was in his heart so that
she would never doubt.

His hands went around her waist, sliding against the silky fabric of
her dressing gown. Praise the saints, she was naked beneath it! Her
lips came up to meet his, and he felt the answering groan that
signaled her passion. Slipping lower, he gripped the soft flesh of her
rump, marveling again at how damn good she felt in his arms.

"I think -"

"That's your problem, boy-o. You think too much." Her arms locked
behind his head, while the fullness of her gown allowed one long leg
to slip up and wrap around behind him as she rubbed herself against
his ready cock. Her eyes, sparkling though they were with passion,
couldn't quite hide the sadness beneath. "Don't think, Thomas. Shut
up and fuck me."

© 2007, Stephanie Vaughan

All Rights Reserved

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