It Had to Be You (Chicago Stars #1)(16)

Her blouse hung open displaying breasts that were rosy from the abrasion of his shirt. Her splayed legs revealed the glistening thicket of curls between her thighs. He was throbbing, and he began to pull her down so she could take him, but she resisted.

“You’re not going to spank me first, are you?”

He groaned.

“Are you?” she repeated.

He surrendered to the inevitable. “Did you do something wrong?”

“I’m not supposed to let anyone in the house when my parents are gone.”

“I guess I’ll have to whale you, then, won’t I?”

“No, don’t!” Her eyelids drifted closed with excitement.

He was ready to explode and no longer in the mood to play games. Making up his mind not to take long with this, he pushed her down over his lap and shoved her skirt all the way to her waist. With her buttocks bared to his gaze, he smacked the flat of his hand on her soft, round flesh.

He was a powerful man, but he carefully leashed his strength, giving her only a bit more than she wanted. She gasped and writhed beneath his blows, growing increasingly more excited.

As her buttocks took on a faintly rosy hue, he thought of all the trouble his ex-wife was causing him. The late-night phone calls when she ripped his character to shreds, the legal hassles, that newspaper interview.

“Ouch! That’s too hard!”

Once again the flat of his hand connected with her tender flesh. “Are you going to be good, darlin’?”

“Yes!”

“How good?”

“Ouch! Stop!”

“Tell me how good you’re going to be.”

“Good! I’ll be good, dammit!”

He spanked her again. “No nasty little digs in the newspapers.”

“All right. Stop!”

“No more late-night harangues on the telephone.”

“You’re ruining everything!”

He slipped his hand between her legs. “I don’t think so.” And then he lifted her.

She immediately impaled herself on him. “You son of a bitch.”

He drove deep. “That’s right, I’m a son of a bitch.”

She rode him viciously. The phone on the desk began to ring, but they both ignored it. Harsh moans slipped from her throat as she grabbed his dark blond hair in her fists. He buried his face in her breasts while his fingers dug into her buttocks.

The ringing stopped and the answering machine clicked on.

She threw back her head and yelled as she shattered.

This is Valerie Calebow. I can’t come to the phone right now. If you leave a message, I’ll get back to you as soon as possible.

The machine beeped and then spoke. “Congresswoman, it’s Stu Blake. I’m sorry to be calling so late, but . . .”

The voice droned on.

With a groan, Dan spilled himself inside her. She slumped against him as the message came to an end.

Beep.





4


Dan opened the refrigerator door, pulled out a quart of milk, and unscrewed the cap. Behind him he heard Valerie coming into the kitchen of the house they had once shared. Because he knew it would irritate her, he lifted the milk container to his lips and took a swig.

“For God’s sake, Dan, get a glass,” she said in that snotty voice he hated.

He took another swig before he screwed the cap back on and returned the container to the refrigerator. Resting the side of his hip against the door, he studied her. She had scrubbed the makeup from her face, revealing her sharp bone structure with a nose that was a bit long but well balanced by a high, smooth forehead. Her light brown hair, free of the silver barrette, fell almost to her shoulders, and her teenybopper clothes had given way to a midnight blue peignoir set trimmed in black lace.

“Where’d you get the cheerleading jacket?”

“My secretary’s daughter. I told her I was going to a costume party.” She lit a cigarette, even though she knew he hated being around smoke.

“This escapade tonight crossed the boundary into creepy. Sixteen-year-old girls haven’t turned me on since I was twelve.”

She shrugged and exhaled. “It was different, that’s all.”

Not so different, he thought. In one way or another, all of Valerie’s sexual fantasies tended to lead toward male domination. Pretty damn funny considering the fact that she was a Class A ball buster. Unfortunately, the only person he could share the joke with was Valerie, and he knew she wouldn’t laugh. Besides, she got all riled if he criticized any of these weird scenarios she set up, and they already had enough other things to fight about.

Her hand crept to her rear. She rubbed it through the dark blue silk and gazed at him with resentment. “You shouldn’t have hit me so hard.”

“Honey, I was holding back.”

He could tell by her expression that she was trying to make up her mind whether to sink her teeth into him or not. Apparently she decided against it because she walked over to the small kitchen desk and began thumbing through the Filofax she had left there. “I don’t have to be in Washington for a few more weeks. How’s your schedule for the weekend?”

“I’ll be at the Meadowlands. We’re playing the Jets.” He moved away from the refrigerator and took a banana from a stainless steel fruit bowl that looked like the terminal at Dulles.