Chapter 28

“So the shit hit the fan,” Susan Hurst said. She didn’t share Morgan’s careless attitude toward discovering the Patins’ gardener dead in a compost heap. “I’d like to have seen that Detective Bonine taking Devol apart. That arrogant bastard deserves it.” Spike Devol never took notice of her but she’d lay odds he’d start taking notice if she got him alone.

“It was ugly,” Morgan called from the bathroom. The door was open to the bedroom and a haze of steam added to the humidity.

“I bet Devol didn’t like looking the fool,” she said. She loved this big room with its vast, white spindle bed, the white skin rugs on light wooden floors. The breeze through etched glass jalousies puffed at gauzy draperies. “Did he finally lose it? He can’t be made entirely of stone, sugar. There’s got to be somethin’ real hot under all that stoic stuff.”

“He didn’t look embarrassed to me,” Morgan said, appearing with a towel around his waist and his wet blond hair standing up in spikes. “I think he enjoyed getting a rise out of Bonine. Happens real easily, too. Bonine hates Spike’s guts, you can see that.”

“Know who I enjoy getting a rise out of?” Susan said in her most sultry, drawling tone.

“All kinds of people, honey,” Morgan said. He took off the towel and rubbed at his hair.

She walked behind him and gave his hard butt a slap intended to hurt. “Only you, Morgan, you know that.”

He grabbed for her, but the towel was still over his head and she was too fast for him. “You’re asking for it,” he said.

And I’ll get it.

The orange satin camisole and matching G-string she wore were calculated to make her skin look warmer, and they worked. She slipped to the opposite side of the bed where a solid sheet of mirror covered one wall.

Susan didn’t like clutter. Large, clear spaces pleased her and she considered her spare decorating style innovative. The only furniture in the bedroom was the bed. Double doors in one wall opened into a closet and dressing room almost as big as the bedroom.

In the mirror, she saw Morgan toss his wet towel into the bathroom. The exercise room she’d had built adjacent to the pool house didn’t go to waste. Morgan’s muscles rippled as he walked. His height was little more than average but he was tall enough for any woman, man enough for any woman.

And he was all hers.

“Come here,” he said.

Susan smiled at him over her shoulder but stayed put. She looked fantastic. She’d gone to New Orleans to have the red highlights in her hair made more obvious and they picked up the light. When she shook her hair with her fingers, it bounced and shone.

“Do I have to come and get you?” Morgan asked.

Susan thought that would be just fine. Her nipples stood out, pushed against the camisole, and the satin was like glossy paint over the perfect shape of her breasts. Between the camisole and the all-but-nothing G-string, her small waist and flat stomach showed to advantage. A tiny triangle of the satin barely covered her pubic hair. Her hips were bigger than she wished they were but Morgan said he liked her ass just the way it was.

Susan did a handstand against the mirror. She visualized how she looked and smiled when she heard Morgan say, “Oh, God,” not quite under his breath.

The camisole fell as far as the fullest part of her breasts but no farther.

“Come to bed,” he said.

“Make me want to.”

“If you don’t do this my way, you’ll wish you had.”

She arced her curvy legs through the air and stood up.

Restraining himself excited Morgan. He liked to feel his cock grow harder until the skin seemed ready to split. Holding back was a sickness in some, a method of overwhelming a woman in others. He was in the second group. He hadn’t been a fool to marry Susan, not in any way. Stinking rich, sexed up every second of the day, her preferences changed and he liked the challenge.

Maybe tonight would be one of those when he showed her who was really in control.

“Turn your back to me and bend over,” he said. “Grip your toes.”

She snickered, almost nervously, and ran her tongue over her lips. While he watched, she slid her hands over her body, pinched her nipples until they pushed out enough to make pegs for her short chemise to hang on.

“You’re not doing as you’re told.” He liked seeing her round butt in the mirror and the way she tensed the cheeks together. “You’re wet.” She sure was. The tiny bit of satin where her legs came together, grew darker as he looked there.

She covered the area with a hand.

He took a step toward her and she took one back, twirled around and did another handstand against the mirror.

Susan liked kinky. Morgan wasn’t averse to it but neither did he like to go to a lot of trouble. Going to his knees, he yanked the orange top until it covered her face, but sure as hell didn’t cover her breasts. He liked big breasts and Susan didn’t disappoint in that area, either. Still on his knees, he sucked one nipple between his teeth and pinched the other.

“Ouch,” she said, muffled. “Don’t stop. Harder.”

He closed his eyes and nipped. He nipped and squeezed till she gave a thin scream and her arms started to give out. “Let me help you,” he said, landing her full length on the all-but-white wood floor, with her face in his lap. “You’ve got a big appetite. Seems like I ought to do something about that.”

Her body shone slick with perspiration, almost as slick as his. She turned over so that her slippery breasts rested on his thighs and, very slowly, closed her shiny pink lips over his penis. So slowly he couldn’t keep his butt on his heels. He tipped his head to watch how she sank, millimeter by millimeter down his distended flesh. When she hit bottom, he had to be way in her throat but she could still nuzzle with her chin, and finger his tensed balls and start to move with long, firm strokes.

Morgan caught the camisole by the back seam and ripped it apart. He wanted to see her breasts bounce. “Do us both a favor,” he told her. “I like it when you do that.”

She didn’t do as she was told. Morgan liked a woman to do as she was told now and again. Knowing she wouldn’t stop what she was doing to him, slitting his eyes and gritting his teeth, he grabbed her right wrist and pushed her hand beneath the G-string. “Work those fingers,” he said. “I want to see you struggle.”

Susan stroked herself, pushed her fingers inside her, shuddering and fighting not to lose her hold on him, or her rhythm. And he got the bouncing he wanted.

The bouncing became a wild jiggle. Morgan’s rear came up completely because he couldn’t hold it down. Her slick skin, the rapid pumping of her hand on her own body, broke his control and he came.

Susan gulped and turned her head, wiped her mouth on his biceps, but she didn’t stop dealing with her own business.

“Go for it,” he whispered in her ear. “We’ve got more to do, but I wouldn’t want you to miss a thing.” Panting, springing into another erection, he pulled her hand away from her body and replaced it with his own. Seconds accomplished the results he wanted and she bucked like a crazed calf.

“Oh, baby,” she muttered, falling forward onto a skin rug. “Baby, baby. This beats the hell out of dinner with the Patin women. I’m glad they’re otherwise engaged.”

Morgan said, “Oh, yeah,” and half closed his eyes. He imagined it was Vivian Patin clamped between his thighs and he slapped her lean bottom until the skin turned pink. She rested her cheek on the rug and her shiny black hair slid forward. Her tongue darted in and out of her mouth in a blatant fuck-me parody.

He focused on Susan. He hadn’t just had his first fantasy about dominating Vivian Patin. It was one of many. Her time would have to come.

“Don’t move a muscle,” he told his wife, and hopped to his feet. In the bathroom an animal-skin seat topped the white wicker stool Susan used when she sat in front of a mirror to apply makeup. He caught it up and returned with it to the bedroom.

Susan’s eyes were closed, but he saw the lashes flicker.

“Plenty of time to sleep later, pussy.”

Her limp body amused him. He lifted her and draped her, facedown, over the stool. Then he sat on the floor and gave her the kind of tongue fuck that turned her feet into dangerous weapons. He moved in close, used her breasts as anchors, and sent her all the way to heaven.

“You’re incredible.” She panted and rested the whole weight of her upper body on his hands and forearms. “Who says married sex can’t be a blast?”

“It might not be.” He chuckled. “If the married couple weren’t us.”

“I’m so tired, Morgan. Can I lie down?”

He kissed her rear, one cheek at a time. “Mmm, not quite, my fucking friend.” He laughed aloud and so did she. “One more little piece of fun and we’ll curl up in that big, white bed.”

Rotating her, he pulled open one of the drawers built into the side of the bed and drew out a long length of soft cord.

“No,” she whined and tears actually stood out in her eyes. “I’m too tired.”

“Stay with me,” he said, giving her a quick kiss before pushing her backward over the stool and bending her like a delectable croquet hoop. Working rapidly, he used the cord to tie her wrists and ankles together. “You should see yourself, Susan. I could look at you for a long time. My bedtime snack. I’m gonna eat you all up.”

She snickered and said, “You already did but you may kill me if you keep me here long. I’ll suffocate.” She laughed aloud and looked at herself in the mirror.

Morgan laughed with her. The weight of her breasts had only one way to go and she might have a point. He spread his legs and stood astride her belly.

“Morgan,” she said faintly, her lips remaining parted.

“I’m just dealing with the aftermath of shock,” he told her. “Death makes a man want to prove he’s alive.”

“You’ve proved it,” she told him in a firmer voice, but she wasn’t asking him to stop. “But do it again, just for the hell of it. Then we’ve got to talk.”

He groaned. “How can you be practical at a time like this?”

“Because I’ve got a lot of money riding on this venture.”

Hanging his head back, he breathed through his mouth. “And I’ve just got a heavy load waiting to ride.” He rubbed his testicles over her ribs, and guided the distended tip of his penis over her nipples, loving her thin scream and her helpless attempts to get closer to him.

Enough waiting. Although he enjoyed every second of the game.

Holding her shoulders, Morgan thrust inside her. He was renowned for the size of his cock, both its length and thickness, and Susan was stretched out with no way to move and absorb the shock of his entry.

First she shrieked, then she did her best to meet his every stroke. He had to support his weight on his legs and they shook from the effort. She made a keening noise punctuated with soft “oomphs” that made him think she’d take whatever he gave her for as long as he gave it.

Spent.

The reality almost surprised him. He’d ejaculated again and wanted only to lie down, but Susan was still moving beneath him.

“You two are good.”

At the sound of Olympia’s voice he jumped and Susan gasped. He looked sideways and directly into Olympia’s eyes. She lay under the duvet on the bed with her head sticking out, so close he could have touched her.

“Get out,” Susan shouted. “You’re sick. You were born sick—just like your father. Out. Now.”

Olympia’s long, blond tresses slithered to fall down the side of the bed. “We’ve got things to talk about—in private. What better place than here?”

“Private?” Susan said. “You managed to walk in without us seeing you.”

“I was already here. In the closet. Mama, I’ve got to applaud your taste. You married a stud and he knows how to use that wonderful dick.”

“Untie me,” Susan hissed to Morgan. “Now.”

His mind had turned cold and clear, a useful trait he’d had since childhood. Moving with all the comfort he felt in his body, naked or otherwise, he undid the cord and helped Susan to his side. It was to his advantage that she not lose too much face in front of her daughter. Anyway, he kinda liked the game of cat and mouse between the two of them. After all, he was their piece of cheese and there were worse jobs.

Tilting up Susan’s chin, he kissed her softly but passionately and while he did so, with Olympia looking on and probably fuming, he caressed his wife’s body, stroked her breasts, rolled her nipples between his fingers. She turned toward him and wrapped her arms around his neck. Olympia would have a perfect sideways view of the two of them, naked and pressed together.

Olympia whistled.

Morgan smiled.

Susan looked smug.

The bedclothes rustled and Olympia wriggled free until she could stand up only inches from them.

Naked, but for a white lace ruff around her neck.

Susan went limp in Morgan’s arms. She slumped against him and for an instant he thought she would pass out. “Get her out of here,” she whispered. “Perverted little whore.”

He whispered in her ear, “Name-calling’s a mistake. She’s obviously got problems we should try to help her with. Don’t let her think she’s hurt you.”

The dig worked. Susan stood straight and thrust out her chest. “You know better than to play games you can’t handle,” she said to Olympia. “Run along—before we think up a punishment you won’t like.”

Olympia walked slowly behind Susan and looped her hands around her mother’s waist. Morgan watched the mirrored vision, fascinated at the spectacle of the girl nestling her breasts against Susan’s back while she stroked her tummy and thighs.

He smiled reassuringly at Susan. This was something he’d thought could happen, also another of his fantasies, and he didn’t want Susan to spoil it.

Susan looked straight at his chest. Her face flushed, then turned deep red when Olympia ground her hips into her mother’s rear.

“That’s enough,” he said to Olympia, although he could have watched them for a long time. “Why not tell us why you really came, then leave us alone. We were getting ready for bed.”

Olympia sputtered with laughter. She changed her position and stood between Morgan and Susan, slipped an arm around each of them and engineered a close embrace. Standing on tiptoe, she kissed Morgan, then her mother—on the lips. Susan immediately wiped her mouth with the back of a hand.

Olympia’s tongue in Morgan’s mouth meant he couldn’t watch anymore, but the girl could use her tongue to suck a man all the way to his cock. The latter, resting against Susan’s belly, responded and her face darkened with rage.

“I’m upset,” Olympia said in a whiny little voice. “I need comfort from my mommy and daddy.”

“Stop it,” Susan snapped.

Olympia’s hand passed from Morgan’s back, over his buttocks and between his legs. He tried not to react but thrust against Susan’s stomach anyway.

Big tears coursed down Olympia’s cheeks. “I can hardly believe the police haven’t come for us already,” she said.

Morgan looked at her. “Come for us? What are you saying?”

“It’s got to be all over the area that Mama’s trying to buy Rosebank. She’s drawn attention to us. People are bound to start making nasty connections and so are the police.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Susan shouted. “When we need your advice, we’ll ask for it.”

With difficulty, Morgan disentangled himself from the two women. “I’m going to the bathroom, then I’m going to bed. It’s too late for this discussion.”

The instant he closed the bathroom door, Susan climbed beneath the covers and pulled the sheet up to her neck. She pretended to be drifting asleep—until the bed sagged and Olympia climbed in with her.

Horrified, Susan tried to push her out, but ended up flat on her back with Olympia holding her wrists down on either side of her head. “Listen to me,” Olympia whispered in a harsh voice. “I know all about you and your little thing on the side.”

The rolling in Susan’s stomach made her certain she’d vomit.

“I only want to share him,” Olympia whispered. “Half for you and half for me.”

“Get out.” Susan spat in her face. “Go. Now. You’re jealous and you’re sick.”

“And I’m powerful,” Olympia said. “Do this my way and everything will be perfect. Be selfish and I’ll make sure your secrets get out—yours and Morgan’s. That wouldn’t look so good for you, would it?”