Two Holts: Steeling a Bride
Remington drew Laura from the brand new deep blue limousine he’d surprised her with earlier in
the day. She wore her wedding dress, a simple ivory creation with a touch of Irish lace at her wrist
and hem. For a moment, she was backed by the sleek dark car and lit by the streetlights overhead.
He thought she looked exquisite.
She was thinking much the same thing about him as her dark eyes wandered across his elegant
form, clad in a black tuxedo and ivory cravat. She bit her lip in anticipation of the night ahead and
took the long fingertips he held out to her. On the sidewalk, she couldn’t help touching his cheek
and pulling his head to hers for a lingering kiss before they continued into the lobby of their
apartment building.
At the elevator, with a sly smile, Remington slipped a length of cloth from his pocket and placed it
over Laura’s eyes.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“I want to surprise you. I’ve discovered that it’s much harder to do that when you actually live with
someone.”
“Oh.” Laura bit her lip while he securely tied the blindfold. While the elevator car rose to the fifth
floor, Remington drew his thumb across her lips. She kissed it and captured his hand with hers.
When the doors opened, he lifted her into his arms.
“What are you doing?”
“Carrying my bride across the threshold. I want credit for doing at least one thing properly.” She
laughed and leaned her head against his shoulder as he walked across the living room to deposit her
on the piano bench. He stopped her from taking off the blindfold. “Play for me, Laura. Please?”
With a soft smile, she turned and placed her fingers on the keys. She’d discovered that Remington
enjoyed hearing her play in the evenings, especially while he prepared dinner. From Bach to
Gershwin, he seemed to like it all. While they ate, he frequently questioned her about the artists, the
musical style or the historical context of the pieces she had picked out. Just once, nearly two
months ago, he had casually asked if she knew anything from the movies. She’d laughed and
played “Also Sprach Zarathustra” from 2001: A Space Odyssey.
It hadn’t been easy, but Laura had been working on several of his favorites in secret while he was at
the boxing gym or the market. She’d even manufactured a handful of midday “appointments”
where she could come home and work on them for a while. It was her hope to surprise him
sometime tomorrow, but now seemed the opportune moment instead. In retrospect, she wondered
why Remington had never asked her to play before they were married. She would ask. Later. For
now, she opened with the theme to Gone With the Wind.
Remington paused in the middle of the living room and let the sound wash over him. It never
ceased to impress him that Laura could create such beautiful music with nothing more than her
hands and a single instrument. He moved around the flat, setting out dozens of thick candles on the
island, the coffee table, throughout the bedroom, and even on the piano as she was playing. He
wanted to recreate a small touch of their first night together nearly three months ago.
From the refrigerator he retrieved the strawberries and freshly whipped cream he’d hidden earlier
and placed them in the bedroom next to the bottle of champagne he’d already placed in the ice
bucket. He frowned, wondering if this was too stereotypical, but decided it couldn’t hurt. And it
would be fun. He still had a few hundred fantasies to play out with her.
Laura segued into To Catch a Thief. Yes, she certainly had. He realized at that moment that he
hadn’t heard her play either of the tunes before. When did she have time to practice? And well
enough to play blindfolded? He stopped for another moment to listen before lighting the dozens of
wicks.
The scent of beeswax began to fill the air. Laura could feel the sultry heat from the candles and
memories of Ireland unfolded in her mind. Her fingers nearly missed the key change to From
Russia with Love.
Remington retrieved his gift for her from the spare bedroom and placed it on their bed before
pouring each of them a glass of champagne. He smiled as Laura began playing "As Time Goes
By." They’d danced to it at their reception just an hour ago. The notes faded into the night when
she finished.
She reached up hesitantly and pulled the fabric away to find him leaning against the piano, watching
her play.
He held out a hand and she took it as she stood. With a very European bow, he kissed her hand.
“Thank you.” Her gift to him was humbling. That she would take the time to do this for him meant
a great deal.
“You’re welcome.” Still holding his hand, she turned to look at the living room filled with dancing
candles and couldn’t resist breathing in the aroma. “I will never forget that night. This is
incredible. Beautiful.”
He handed her the flute of champagne. “I have something for you as well. A wedding gift, if you
like.” He drew her into the bedroom where a silver and white wrapped gift sat in the middle of the
bed. She noted the champagne bucket and strawberries before sitting next to the box.
She bit her lip to hold back a smile and meticulously unwrapped the present. She watched
Remington out of the corner of her eye and could tell he was uncharacteristically nervous. Twice he
had to stop himself from nibbling on a thumbnail, opting instead for a sip from his glass. Eventually,
he caught on that she was stretching the process out unnecessarily.
“Laura,” he scolded lightly.
She loved hearing him say her name. Not even her mother had so many variations of it to indicate
her feelings. “Patience, love--isn’t that what you are always telling me?” she chided him. But she
unwrapped the last of the tissue paper and what was revealed stunned her into silence.
Just a few weeks ago, she’d asked Remington to draw a portrait of their wedding day in Ireland.
What he produced was meticulous in detail and exquisite in execution. She looked down at the lace
of the dress she wore, and sure enough, he’d reproduced it in the drawing. Laura remembered the
way he looked that day. His eyes had a light in them she’d never seen before. How did he capture
his own expression so accurately? Her own face was luminescent with love and--determination?
She looked up at Remington in awe.
“I knew you were talented, but I had no idea you could create something like this.”
“You like it?” In his nervousness, he’d taken off his tuxedo jacket, pulled his neckcloth free and
unbuttoned his shirt at the throat.
“I do.” She looked down at his bold signature. The title written next to it sent a thrill up her spine
and warmed her heart. Rising from the bed, she propped the framed drawing on the dresser before
winding her arms around his neck. “We’ll hang it tomorrow. Thank you, Remington. It’s perfect.”
“Thank God.” He buried his face in her hair and held her that way for a long while.
“Remington?” She pulled back enough to see his face. “Are you okay?” He touched her cheek
and then drew a lock of her hair to the side.
“Sometimes, Laura, I wake and I wonder if the past three months have been a fantastic dream.
And then I see you sleeping beside me and I know that this is real.” He bit his bottom lip. “I know
I’m not always good with the words. …” He fell silent.
“You’re doing fine.” But he shook his head, unable to say more.
Instead, he showed her. He turned her so that her back was facing him and he kissed the line of her
neck. With great care, he drew the zipper down on her dress and eased it from her shoulders,
nibbling on the exposed skin as the material puddled on the floor. Underneath she wore a silky one
piece teddy that hugged her figure and snapped between her legs. He wasn’t interested in resisting
the urge to slide his hands over those curves. Laura leaned against him as his fingers drifted and
stroked. He knelt down to draw the stockings from her legs and nipped her bottom through the silk
before standing behind her again and suckling the spot where her neck met her collarbone.
He seemed content to stay there, but she turned and deftly unfastened his buttons and shoved his
shirt off his shoulders. His hands were caught in the shirt cuffs, and she took advantage by stroking
his neck and chest. The hollow of his throat begged to be kissed, and she complied before her
mouth scorched a trail to each flat nipple and taunted it until it puckered.
Remington tried to shake off at least one of his cuffs while Laura unbuckled his belt and released the
button and zipper to his pants. They fell to the floor and, for a moment, he was trapped by his own
clothes. She laughed at his predicament. He flashed a smile and lightly shoved her backwards onto
the bed where she sprawled in a pretty pose.
“So that’s how we’re playing it today?” He stepped out of the pile of clothes, leaving his shoes and
socks in the middle, but he was still stuck in his shirt sleeves. “Mind helping me out here?”
“I don’t know. This could be fun,” she teased.
Shrugging the shirt back on, he rapidly unhooked his cufflinks and dropped them and the shirt to the
floor. “I’ll remember that for next time.” His briefs hit the floor as well, and a very nude
Remington crawled across Laura and fastened his lips to her throat. “This time,” he murmured
between kisses, “I have something else planned.”
She flushed and immediately felt a little like one of Pavlov’s dogs. The mere mention that he had
plans had desire streaking through her. Remington’s campaigns always involved a great deal of
creativity and a whole lot of gratification. It was a testament to how distracted Laura had been that
she only now noticed that he had placed his old bedspread on top of their new one. She started to
ask him about it, but lost her train of thought as he busied himself with stripping the teddy from her
body, stopping along the way to tease her breasts and her belly button with his middle finger. When
he had her naked, he froze.
Knowing how much he liked to play, Laura had visited a spa early this morning, and they had given
her a serious bikini wax. Oh, she had always kept things neat and tidy, but now she was almost
bare. The expression on her lover’s face had been worth every second of indignation. “Surprise.”
“You’re going to kill me, Laura--in a truly excellent way.” If he wasn’t completely erect before, his
friend stood now at full attention and twitched in anticipation.
She could see the indecision in his eyes and waited. I’ll lay a dollar he can’t resist, no matter what
plans he has in mind.
“Damn.” He shook his head and stroked the edges of her sex with his finger before giving into
temptation and tasting. His tongue danced around the smooth skin for a moment before sliding up
the middle and setting her on fire.
I win. I definitely win.
His eyes flicked up and he saw the laughter in her eyes. “How much did I lose?”
“Only a dollar.”
“Letting me off easy?”
“This time, Mr. Steele.”
Reeling in his suddenly lascivious thoughts, he stretched out on the bed near the strawberries and
champagne, settling two pillows behind him so he was sitting up with his knees bent.
“Come here, Mrs. Steele.” He helped her straddle him so that she settled exactly where his erection
would press against her apex and then promptly had to suck in his breath as her newly bare skin
made the whole scenario much more sensuous than he anticipated. She rocked. He grasped her
hips to make her stop. “Mmm. Not yet.”
“Strawberries and champagne, Remington?”
“Yes, I know it’s probably overdone, but there’s a reason it works; so hush and let me play.” He
raised a brow at her with a grin.
Handing her a glass of champagne, he took a small sip from his own. After dipping his fingers into
the cool liquid, he began tracing lines down her body. The room had become warm from the heat
of the candles and the abrupt contrast made Laura shiver, more so when he blew across the wet
streaks. Another sip, this time held in his mouth, and he suckled her nipple, letting the bubbles pop
and dance before he swallowed and continued the tickling sensation with his tongue. Repeating the
whole sequence on the other breast made her forget to breathe.
Sparks danced behind her eyes before she remembered to inhale. She set down the glass and tried
to rock against Remington again, but he stopped her and his eyes lit up at her frustration. “Not
yet.” He continued to stroke her skin, running quick fingers from knee to hip to shoulders and back
again. With one hand, he reached for a strawberry and dipped it into the cream. He gave Laura a
bite and watched her eyes nearly cross in delight.
Before he educated her palate, Laura had assumed whipped cream came in an aerosol can. Now
she knew the difference between that and the real thing. A perfect balance of sweet and lush
swirling with the juiciness of the strawberry exploded in her mouth. A little drip ran down her chin,
and Remington made sure he caught every last bit with his tongue before he claimed her mouth for
his own. In the process, he lifted her enough to begin the slow slide into her softness and then ran
his thumb along that bared skin.
Laura was beginning to drown in sensation. Her body was wet and edgy from Remington’s teasing.
His mouth was on hers, savoring the flavors of berries and sweetened cream, and now he was filling
her deliberately until he was fully seated in her. She wanted to move, but his hands on her hips kept
her firmly planted while his thumb teased and tormented her little knot of nerves that suddenly
seemed to be in control of her brain.
She had nowhere to put her hands to give herself support while he played with her, so she rested
them on his stomach and let her fingers tangle in his hair. He pressed her backwards until she was
leaning against his thighs. In this position, he was pressing hard inside her and a few flicks of his
thumb on her knot had her squirming. When he heard her breathing speed up, he pulled his hand
away and waited for her body to still.
“What are you doing?” she panted in annoyance. By her count, this was the second time he’d
started her down the road to the finish line and abruptly stopped the car a few feet short of it.
“We haven’t finished our champagne.” He handed the glass back to her and when she took a drink,
he nudged it upwards with a grin so that the liquid spilled down her chin and throat. Taking the hint,
she tilted the goblet over his chest and watched the champagne run down his stomach and pool in
his belly button. He couldn’t help twitching at the cool slide of fluid. A little more direct pouring
resulted in cool liquid and bubbles dancing where they were joined together.
Remington sucked in his stomach at the sensation and used his thumb to circle her nub again. Laura
trembled with need, more so when she felt him jerk inside of her. This time, he took her to the very
edge before he stopped and held her hips still again.
Now she swore, muttering indignities under her breath and pinning him with hard brown eyes. “I’m
not going to beg.”
He openly chuckled. “You might.” A finger’s worth of cream landed on her breast, and he
devoured it and her taut peak in the process. A strawberry was squeezed across the other one and
Remington consumed it in the same way. “Mmm, my favorite.”
He had her exactly where he wanted her. Every part of her was screaming for release, but he kept
her there, vibrating on the edge, while he toyed with her body. Her whole core was open and
burning with need. Inadvertently, she’d only heightened the sensations with her trip to the spa and
for that Remington was grateful as he stroked and played with the smooth, wet skin that surrounded
his arousal.
Abruptly, he lifted her up so that he could glide in and out of her. It only took a handful of strokes
before she screamed and her body contracted around his. A brush of his thumb at the right moment
had her peaking again and again, and she brought her hands down to grip his wrists for support.
When her legs began to relax, he plucked at her knot and sent her up again. This time her whole
body convulsed and she caught his hands.
“No more. No more.”
“See? You’re begging. And there’s a great deal more.”
Laura wanted to strangle him, but her body was too sensitive to do any more to hold still. She could
tell he wasn’t too far from his own climax; he had a way of thickening at the last moment and she
imagined she could even feel the veins popping out.
But he didn’t move, and when the flush of heat finally ebbed from her face, he began again with the
champagne, dipping his fingers in and brushing them in long cool strokes along her body. Laura
leaned forward this time and propped her forearms on his chest, giving her enough leverage to move
her hips. His eyes closed again as she began driving him toward his own release. He wrapped one
arm around her and used the other to support himself as need took over and he thrust into her.
She wasn’t expecting the last orgasm, but it rose up as his body filled hers again and again, and then
she could hardly breathe because Remington tightened his arm and groaned her name. He dropped
his head back and Laura could see he was lost in the moment, in her, and her body contracted with
his as they soared together.
Twenty minutes and a light doze later, they dragged their sticky bodies to the black Jacuzzi in the
bathroom. Laura ran the water as hot as she could stand as Remington stripped the champagne-
soaked spread from the bed.
“Nice foresight,” she complimented as she sat on the edge of the tub while it filled.
“If you’re going to play with food in bed, you have to be prepared for the consequences.” He set
down a small plate of strawberries and a tiny dab of cream for them to nibble on. He offered her
the champagne.
“I think I’ve had enough for one night. Between here and the reception, I’ve had more than my
share today.”
“Actually, and don’t ever quote me in public or to Murphy, I’d have to agree. Want a glass of
water?”
“I’d love one.”
By the time he returned, the tub was nearly full and Laura sank into it, humming with bliss, while
she popped another strawberry into her mouth.
“Is there room for me?”
“Of course.”
He sat across from her and drew her feet to his chest. Without thinking, he began massaging them
and laid his head on the edge of the whirlpool with his eyes closed.
“Remington?”
“Hmmm?”
“Why do you do that?”
“Do what?”
“You’ve just finished making love with me, you get me water and now you’re massaging my feet.
Quite frankly, you are spoiling me--and l love it--but I don’t understand why you do it.”
“You’re not serious.”
“I am.”
“Laura, how many hours did you spend on the music you played earlier?”
“I hadn’t thought about it.”
He opened his eyes and slanted a quizzical look at her. “You did it for me.”
“It’s no different from the drawing you did. You did that for me.”
“That was something that you asked me to do. And before you berate yourself for asking,” he
splashed her with his toes as she held up her hands to block the water, “I’m flattered that you
wanted it, and it brought me a great deal of pleasure to draw it for you.” He let go of her foot and
drew her across the tub, turning her so that her back was against his chest and her head rested on
his shoulder.
“Where I come from, no one does anything for free. If you want something, you either pay for it or
know that someone will expect a favor in return.” He stroked her damp hair, letting the curls catch
on his fingers before he untangled them and smoothed them out. “It gets wearying after a while. I
like doing things for you, Laura. It feels good to me. Just as I like the things you do for me.
He lifted her hands. “Your music is perhaps the most private part of you, and yet you are willing to
share it with me--and even to indulge me with my movies.”
“Hey, I’m happy being Sam to your Rick as long as you cook dinner.”
“See? It works for both of us. Besides, you wash my dishes.”
“I knew dirty dishes would be in there somewhere, along with picking up your socks.”
“Mmm, the last is a bonus. Never knew how nice it would be to have someone else throw them in
the hamper.” He turned her around so that she straddled his lap again. “In my opinion, Mrs.
Steele, you haven’t been spoiled enough by the right man.”
“And you think you’re that man?” She tilted her head and arched her brow comically at him.
He tightened his arms around her in response. “Well, now that you mention it, I do.”
Laura reached for the soap and began sliding it over his skin. “Good, because I think so too. Now,
it seems that you made a promise.”
“What was that?”
“That there would be a great deal more.”
“Ah, but there might be begging involved. Are you sure?”
“You can beg all you want, love.”
23 March 2009
Remington drew Laura from the brand new deep blue limousine he’d surprised her with earlier in
the day. She wore her wedding dress, a simple ivory creation with a touch of Irish lace at her wrist
and hem. For a moment, she was backed by the sleek dark car and lit by the streetlights overhead.
He thought she looked exquisite.
She was thinking much the same thing about him as her dark eyes wandered across his elegant
form, clad in a black tuxedo and ivory cravat. She bit her lip in anticipation of the night ahead and
took the long fingertips he held out to her. On the sidewalk, she couldn’t help touching his cheek
and pulling his head to hers for a lingering kiss before they continued into the lobby of their
apartment building.
At the elevator, with a sly smile, Remington slipped a length of cloth from his pocket and placed it
over Laura’s eyes.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“I want to surprise you. I’ve discovered that it’s much harder to do that when you actually live with
someone.”
“Oh.” Laura bit her lip while he securely tied the blindfold. While the elevator car rose to the fifth
floor, Remington drew his thumb across her lips. She kissed it and captured his hand with hers.
When the doors opened, he lifted her into his arms.
“What are you doing?”
“Carrying my bride across the threshold. I want credit for doing at least one thing properly.” She
laughed and leaned her head against his shoulder as he walked across the living room to deposit her
on the piano bench. He stopped her from taking off the blindfold. “Play for me, Laura. Please?”
With a soft smile, she turned and placed her fingers on the keys. She’d discovered that Remington
enjoyed hearing her play in the evenings, especially while he prepared dinner. From Bach to
Gershwin, he seemed to like it all. While they ate, he frequently questioned her about the artists, the
musical style or the historical context of the pieces she had picked out. Just once, nearly two
months ago, he had casually asked if she knew anything from the movies. She’d laughed and
played “Also Sprach Zarathustra” from 2001: A Space Odyssey.
It hadn’t been easy, but Laura had been working on several of his favorites in secret while he was at
the boxing gym or the market. She’d even manufactured a handful of midday “appointments”
where she could come home and work on them for a while. It was her hope to surprise him
sometime tomorrow, but now seemed the opportune moment instead. In retrospect, she wondered
why Remington had never asked her to play before they were married. She would ask. Later. For
now, she opened with the theme to Gone With the Wind.
Remington paused in the middle of the living room and let the sound wash over him. It never
ceased to impress him that Laura could create such beautiful music with nothing more than her
hands and a single instrument. He moved around the flat, setting out dozens of thick candles on the
island, the coffee table, throughout the bedroom, and even on the piano as she was playing. He
wanted to recreate a small touch of their first night together nearly three months ago.
From the refrigerator he retrieved the strawberries and freshly whipped cream he’d hidden earlier
and placed them in the bedroom next to the bottle of champagne he’d already placed in the ice
bucket. He frowned, wondering if this was too stereotypical, but decided it couldn’t hurt. And it
would be fun. He still had a few hundred fantasies to play out with her.
Laura segued into To Catch a Thief. Yes, she certainly had. He realized at that moment that he
hadn’t heard her play either of the tunes before. When did she have time to practice? And well
enough to play blindfolded? He stopped for another moment to listen before lighting the dozens of
wicks.
The scent of beeswax began to fill the air. Laura could feel the sultry heat from the candles and
memories of Ireland unfolded in her mind. Her fingers nearly missed the key change to From
Russia with Love.
Remington retrieved his gift for her from the spare bedroom and placed it on their bed before
pouring each of them a glass of champagne. He smiled as Laura began playing "As Time Goes
By." They’d danced to it at their reception just an hour ago. The notes faded into the night when
she finished.
She reached up hesitantly and pulled the fabric away to find him leaning against the piano, watching
her play.
He held out a hand and she took it as she stood. With a very European bow, he kissed her hand.
“Thank you.” Her gift to him was humbling. That she would take the time to do this for him meant
a great deal.
“You’re welcome.” Still holding his hand, she turned to look at the living room filled with dancing
candles and couldn’t resist breathing in the aroma. “I will never forget that night. This is
incredible. Beautiful.”
He handed her the flute of champagne. “I have something for you as well. A wedding gift, if you
like.” He drew her into the bedroom where a silver and white wrapped gift sat in the middle of the
bed. She noted the champagne bucket and strawberries before sitting next to the box.
She bit her lip to hold back a smile and meticulously unwrapped the present. She watched
Remington out of the corner of her eye and could tell he was uncharacteristically nervous. Twice he
had to stop himself from nibbling on a thumbnail, opting instead for a sip from his glass. Eventually,
he caught on that she was stretching the process out unnecessarily.
“Laura,” he scolded lightly.
She loved hearing him say her name. Not even her mother had so many variations of it to indicate
her feelings. “Patience, love--isn’t that what you are always telling me?” she chided him. But she
unwrapped the last of the tissue paper and what was revealed stunned her into silence.
Just a few weeks ago, she’d asked Remington to draw a portrait of their wedding day in Ireland.
What he produced was meticulous in detail and exquisite in execution. She looked down at the lace
of the dress she wore, and sure enough, he’d reproduced it in the drawing. Laura remembered the
way he looked that day. His eyes had a light in them she’d never seen before. How did he capture
his own expression so accurately? Her own face was luminescent with love and--determination?
She looked up at Remington in awe.
“I knew you were talented, but I had no idea you could create something like this.”
“You like it?” In his nervousness, he’d taken off his tuxedo jacket, pulled his neckcloth free and
unbuttoned his shirt at the throat.
“I do.” She looked down at his bold signature. The title written next to it sent a thrill up her spine
and warmed her heart. Rising from the bed, she propped the framed drawing on the dresser before
winding her arms around his neck. “We’ll hang it tomorrow. Thank you, Remington. It’s perfect.”
“Thank God.” He buried his face in her hair and held her that way for a long while.
“Remington?” She pulled back enough to see his face. “Are you okay?” He touched her cheek
and then drew a lock of her hair to the side.
“Sometimes, Laura, I wake and I wonder if the past three months have been a fantastic dream.
And then I see you sleeping beside me and I know that this is real.” He bit his bottom lip. “I know
I’m not always good with the words. …” He fell silent.
“You’re doing fine.” But he shook his head, unable to say more.
Instead, he showed her. He turned her so that her back was facing him and he kissed the line of her
neck. With great care, he drew the zipper down on her dress and eased it from her shoulders,
nibbling on the exposed skin as the material puddled on the floor. Underneath she wore a silky one
piece teddy that hugged her figure and snapped between her legs. He wasn’t interested in resisting
the urge to slide his hands over those curves. Laura leaned against him as his fingers drifted and
stroked. He knelt down to draw the stockings from her legs and nipped her bottom through the silk
before standing behind her again and suckling the spot where her neck met her collarbone.
He seemed content to stay there, but she turned and deftly unfastened his buttons and shoved his
shirt off his shoulders. His hands were caught in the shirt cuffs, and she took advantage by stroking
his neck and chest. The hollow of his throat begged to be kissed, and she complied before her
mouth scorched a trail to each flat nipple and taunted it until it puckered.
Remington tried to shake off at least one of his cuffs while Laura unbuckled his belt and released the
button and zipper to his pants. They fell to the floor and, for a moment, he was trapped by his own
clothes. She laughed at his predicament. He flashed a smile and lightly shoved her backwards onto
the bed where she sprawled in a pretty pose.
“So that’s how we’re playing it today?” He stepped out of the pile of clothes, leaving his shoes and
socks in the middle, but he was still stuck in his shirt sleeves. “Mind helping me out here?”
“I don’t know. This could be fun,” she teased.
Shrugging the shirt back on, he rapidly unhooked his cufflinks and dropped them and the shirt to the
floor. “I’ll remember that for next time.” His briefs hit the floor as well, and a very nude
Remington crawled across Laura and fastened his lips to her throat. “This time,” he murmured
between kisses, “I have something else planned.”
She flushed and immediately felt a little like one of Pavlov’s dogs. The mere mention that he had
plans had desire streaking through her. Remington’s campaigns always involved a great deal of
creativity and a whole lot of gratification. It was a testament to how distracted Laura had been that
she only now noticed that he had placed his old bedspread on top of their new one. She started to
ask him about it, but lost her train of thought as he busied himself with stripping the teddy from her
body, stopping along the way to tease her breasts and her belly button with his middle finger. When
he had her naked, he froze.
Knowing how much he liked to play, Laura had visited a spa early this morning, and they had given
her a serious bikini wax. Oh, she had always kept things neat and tidy, but now she was almost
bare. The expression on her lover’s face had been worth every second of indignation. “Surprise.”
“You’re going to kill me, Laura--in a truly excellent way.” If he wasn’t completely erect before, his
friend stood now at full attention and twitched in anticipation.
She could see the indecision in his eyes and waited. I’ll lay a dollar he can’t resist, no matter what
plans he has in mind.
“Damn.” He shook his head and stroked the edges of her sex with his finger before giving into
temptation and tasting. His tongue danced around the smooth skin for a moment before sliding up
the middle and setting her on fire.
I win. I definitely win.
His eyes flicked up and he saw the laughter in her eyes. “How much did I lose?”
“Only a dollar.”
“Letting me off easy?”
“This time, Mr. Steele.”
Reeling in his suddenly lascivious thoughts, he stretched out on the bed near the strawberries and
champagne, settling two pillows behind him so he was sitting up with his knees bent.
“Come here, Mrs. Steele.” He helped her straddle him so that she settled exactly where his erection
would press against her apex and then promptly had to suck in his breath as her newly bare skin
made the whole scenario much more sensuous than he anticipated. She rocked. He grasped her
hips to make her stop. “Mmm. Not yet.”
“Strawberries and champagne, Remington?”
“Yes, I know it’s probably overdone, but there’s a reason it works; so hush and let me play.” He
raised a brow at her with a grin.
Handing her a glass of champagne, he took a small sip from his own. After dipping his fingers into
the cool liquid, he began tracing lines down her body. The room had become warm from the heat
of the candles and the abrupt contrast made Laura shiver, more so when he blew across the wet
streaks. Another sip, this time held in his mouth, and he suckled her nipple, letting the bubbles pop
and dance before he swallowed and continued the tickling sensation with his tongue. Repeating the
whole sequence on the other breast made her forget to breathe.
Sparks danced behind her eyes before she remembered to inhale. She set down the glass and tried
to rock against Remington again, but he stopped her and his eyes lit up at her frustration. “Not
yet.” He continued to stroke her skin, running quick fingers from knee to hip to shoulders and back
again. With one hand, he reached for a strawberry and dipped it into the cream. He gave Laura a
bite and watched her eyes nearly cross in delight.
Before he educated her palate, Laura had assumed whipped cream came in an aerosol can. Now
she knew the difference between that and the real thing. A perfect balance of sweet and lush
swirling with the juiciness of the strawberry exploded in her mouth. A little drip ran down her chin,
and Remington made sure he caught every last bit with his tongue before he claimed her mouth for
his own. In the process, he lifted her enough to begin the slow slide into her softness and then ran
his thumb along that bared skin.
Laura was beginning to drown in sensation. Her body was wet and edgy from Remington’s teasing.
His mouth was on hers, savoring the flavors of berries and sweetened cream, and now he was filling
her deliberately until he was fully seated in her. She wanted to move, but his hands on her hips kept
her firmly planted while his thumb teased and tormented her little knot of nerves that suddenly
seemed to be in control of her brain.
She had nowhere to put her hands to give herself support while he played with her, so she rested
them on his stomach and let her fingers tangle in his hair. He pressed her backwards until she was
leaning against his thighs. In this position, he was pressing hard inside her and a few flicks of his
thumb on her knot had her squirming. When he heard her breathing speed up, he pulled his hand
away and waited for her body to still.
“What are you doing?” she panted in annoyance. By her count, this was the second time he’d
started her down the road to the finish line and abruptly stopped the car a few feet short of it.
“We haven’t finished our champagne.” He handed the glass back to her and when she took a drink,
he nudged it upwards with a grin so that the liquid spilled down her chin and throat. Taking the hint,
she tilted the goblet over his chest and watched the champagne run down his stomach and pool in
his belly button. He couldn’t help twitching at the cool slide of fluid. A little more direct pouring
resulted in cool liquid and bubbles dancing where they were joined together.
Remington sucked in his stomach at the sensation and used his thumb to circle her nub again. Laura
trembled with need, more so when she felt him jerk inside of her. This time, he took her to the very
edge before he stopped and held her hips still again.
Now she swore, muttering indignities under her breath and pinning him with hard brown eyes. “I’m
not going to beg.”
He openly chuckled. “You might.” A finger’s worth of cream landed on her breast, and he
devoured it and her taut peak in the process. A strawberry was squeezed across the other one and
Remington consumed it in the same way. “Mmm, my favorite.”
He had her exactly where he wanted her. Every part of her was screaming for release, but he kept
her there, vibrating on the edge, while he toyed with her body. Her whole core was open and
burning with need. Inadvertently, she’d only heightened the sensations with her trip to the spa and
for that Remington was grateful as he stroked and played with the smooth, wet skin that surrounded
his arousal.
Abruptly, he lifted her up so that he could glide in and out of her. It only took a handful of strokes
before she screamed and her body contracted around his. A brush of his thumb at the right moment
had her peaking again and again, and she brought her hands down to grip his wrists for support.
When her legs began to relax, he plucked at her knot and sent her up again. This time her whole
body convulsed and she caught his hands.
“No more. No more.”
“See? You’re begging. And there’s a great deal more.”
Laura wanted to strangle him, but her body was too sensitive to do any more to hold still. She could
tell he wasn’t too far from his own climax; he had a way of thickening at the last moment and she
imagined she could even feel the veins popping out.
But he didn’t move, and when the flush of heat finally ebbed from her face, he began again with the
champagne, dipping his fingers in and brushing them in long cool strokes along her body. Laura
leaned forward this time and propped her forearms on his chest, giving her enough leverage to move
her hips. His eyes closed again as she began driving him toward his own release. He wrapped one
arm around her and used the other to support himself as need took over and he thrust into her.
She wasn’t expecting the last orgasm, but it rose up as his body filled hers again and again, and then
she could hardly breathe because Remington tightened his arm and groaned her name. He dropped
his head back and Laura could see he was lost in the moment, in her, and her body contracted with
his as they soared together.
Twenty minutes and a light doze later, they dragged their sticky bodies to the black Jacuzzi in the
bathroom. Laura ran the water as hot as she could stand as Remington stripped the champagne-
soaked spread from the bed.
“Nice foresight,” she complimented as she sat on the edge of the tub while it filled.
“If you’re going to play with food in bed, you have to be prepared for the consequences.” He set
down a small plate of strawberries and a tiny dab of cream for them to nibble on. He offered her
the champagne.
“I think I’ve had enough for one night. Between here and the reception, I’ve had more than my
share today.”
“Actually, and don’t ever quote me in public or to Murphy, I’d have to agree. Want a glass of
water?”
“I’d love one.”
By the time he returned, the tub was nearly full and Laura sank into it, humming with bliss, while
she popped another strawberry into her mouth.
“Is there room for me?”
“Of course.”
He sat across from her and drew her feet to his chest. Without thinking, he began massaging them
and laid his head on the edge of the whirlpool with his eyes closed.
“Remington?”
“Hmmm?”
“Why do you do that?”
“Do what?”
“You’ve just finished making love with me, you get me water and now you’re massaging my feet.
Quite frankly, you are spoiling me--and l love it--but I don’t understand why you do it.”
“You’re not serious.”
“I am.”
“Laura, how many hours did you spend on the music you played earlier?”
“I hadn’t thought about it.”
He opened his eyes and slanted a quizzical look at her. “You did it for me.”
“It’s no different from the drawing you did. You did that for me.”
“That was something that you asked me to do. And before you berate yourself for asking,” he
splashed her with his toes as she held up her hands to block the water, “I’m flattered that you
wanted it, and it brought me a great deal of pleasure to draw it for you.” He let go of her foot and
drew her across the tub, turning her so that her back was against his chest and her head rested on
his shoulder.
“Where I come from, no one does anything for free. If you want something, you either pay for it or
know that someone will expect a favor in return.” He stroked her damp hair, letting the curls catch
on his fingers before he untangled them and smoothed them out. “It gets wearying after a while. I
like doing things for you, Laura. It feels good to me. Just as I like the things you do for me.
He lifted her hands. “Your music is perhaps the most private part of you, and yet you are willing to
share it with me--and even to indulge me with my movies.”
“Hey, I’m happy being Sam to your Rick as long as you cook dinner.”
“See? It works for both of us. Besides, you wash my dishes.”
“I knew dirty dishes would be in there somewhere, along with picking up your socks.”
“Mmm, the last is a bonus. Never knew how nice it would be to have someone else throw them in
the hamper.” He turned her around so that she straddled his lap again. “In my opinion, Mrs.
Steele, you haven’t been spoiled enough by the right man.”
“And you think you’re that man?” She tilted her head and arched her brow comically at him.
He tightened his arms around her in response. “Well, now that you mention it, I do.”
Laura reached for the soap and began sliding it over his skin. “Good, because I think so too. Now,
it seems that you made a promise.”
“What was that?”
“That there would be a great deal more.”
“Ah, but there might be begging involved. Are you sure?”
“You can beg all you want, love.”
23 March 2009
Steele Holting On
Steele Holting On
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