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“With nothing left over.”
“If you want more, you could get it from your old man. He’s in room twelve-fifteen.”
“Do you think he’d be pleased to see me? Especially if I told him I’d just come from your room?”
Not deigning to answer, Eddy consulted his watch. “If I were you, I’d start home before it gets any later. Be careful driving back.” He headed for the door to let her out.
“I’m hungry. Since you’ve been so stingy with your loan, I won’t be able to afford supper. I believe that entitles me to some of this sandwich.” She took a wedge of the triple-decker sandwich from the plate and bit into it.
“Help yourself.” He pulled a straight chair from beneath the table, sat down, and began eating a wedge of the sandwich. He perused one of the computer readouts while he chewed.
Fancy slapped at it, knocking it out of his hand. “Don’t you dare ignore me, you bastard.”
The glint in his eyes looked dangerous. “I didn’t invite you here, you little whore. I don’t want you here. If you don’t like it here, you’re welcome to leave any time—the sooner the better—and good riddance.”
“Oh, Eddy, don’t talk like that.”
Her knees landed on the carpet as she scooted out of the chair. Suddenly contrite, she walked forwa
rd on them until she reached him. She stretched her arms up and slipped her hands inside his shirt, laying them on his bare chest. “Don’t be mean to me. I love you.”
“Cut it out, Fancy.”
His request went unheeded. She wedged herself between his knees and kissed his stomach. “I love you so much.” Her mouth and tongue moved avidly over his sleek, hairless belly. “I know you love me, too.”
He grunted with involuntary pleasure as her long nails lightly scratched his nipples. She unbuckled his belt and unfastened his trousers.
“Jesus,” he moaned when she lifted his hard flesh out of his underwear. His fingers dove into her wealth of blond hair. He roughly twisted bunches of it around his knuckles. From above, he watched her red, red lips slide down over his stiff organ. Her mouth was avaricious, without temperance, modesty, or conscience—an amoral mouth that had never been denied or disciplined.
He gasped her name twice. She raised her head and appealed to him, “Love me, Eddy, please.”
He struggled to his feet, drawing her up with him, against him. Their mouths met in a carnal kiss. While her hands worked frantically to get his shirt off, he reached beneath the tube for her panties. Flimsy things, they came apart in his hands.
She cried out with surprise and pain when he crammed two fingers up inside her, but she rode them with crude pleasure. She had already shoved his trousers and underwear past his knees. He pushed them to his ankles and walked out of them as he lifted her to straddle his lap.
Together they fell onto the bed. He shoved up her dress and buried his face in the delta of her body while she wormed her way out of the stretchy tube. Before she had even gotten the dress over her head completely, he began squeezing her breasts, sucking and biting and twisting her nipples.
Fancy writhed beneath him, exulting in his rowdy foreplay. She raked her nails down his back and dug them into his buttocks hard enough to draw blood. He cursed her, called her ugly gutter names. When she drew back her knees, the stiletto heel of her shoe cut a jagged, six-inch gash into the bedspread, but neither noticed or would have cared.
Eddy splayed her thighs wide and thrust into her with enough impetus to drive her into the headboard. His body was already slick with sweat when she wrapped her limbs around him and matched his frenzied bucking. Their bodies slammed together, again and again.
Eddy’s face contorted with a grimace of ecstasy. Arching his back, he put all his strength behind his final lunge. Fancy climaxed simultaneously.
“God, that was great!” she sighed as they rolled apart moments later.
She recovered first, sat up, and frowned at the sticky moisture on her inner thighs. She left the bed in search of the small purse she had brought in with her. She took from it a package of condoms and tossed it at him. “Use one of these next time.”
“Who says there’ll be a next time?”
Fancy, who was unabashedly admiring her naked body in the dresser mirror, gave his reflection an arch smile. “I’m gonna be black and blue tomorrow.” She proudly touched the teeth marks on her breasts like they were small trophies. “I can already feel the bruises.”
“Don’t let on like you’re bothered by it. You get off on being punished.”
“I didn’t hear you complaining, Mr. Paschal.”
Still in her heels and bracelets, she strutted to the table and inspected the remnants of the tray. There was nothing left of the sundae except a puddle of white foam muddied by chocolate syrup, with a cherry floating on top.
“Oh, piss,” she muttered, “the ice cream’s melted.”
