Diamonds and Toads: A Modern Fairy Tale (10 page)

She stretched like a feline. “Mmm,
promise?”

He answered her with a hard kiss on the
mouth.

As he moved his attention to her neck, he
unbuttoned her blouse and freed her breast from her lacy bra.

“I love you so much, Ch—oh!” she said,
arching into him when he drew her nipple into his hungry mouth.

His chuckle rumbled against her breast, but
his aching heart didn’t hear.

* * *

The next morning at the breakfast table in
the kitchen, Chas rubbed his wrist. “I think I might’ve given
myself a sprain last night.”

“The cuffs? But they’re lined in fur. Let me
see.” She reached her hand out and he extended his, allowing her to
continue the massage as she examined his wrist for damage.

“They may be lined, but I yanked the crap out
of them when I felt that ice cold mouth and tongue around me. It
shocked the shit out of me.

She glanced up, anxiety in her expression.
“You didn’t like it?”

“No, I hated it.”

Her face crumbled.

He quirked a smile at her. “That’s why I
yelled like a banshee and nearly gagged you with the wad I shot not
two seconds later.”

She relaxed and grinned at him. “Oh. Yeah. I
did have to discipline you for that—you hadn’t asked my permission
to have an orgasm, you bad boy.”

“Mmm, I remember,” he said, a dreamy tinge,
heavy with desire, colored his voice. “’Course, to be fair, if you
hadn’t blindfolded me I might not have lost it so
quickly—forewarned is forearmed.”

Sitting forward, she lifted a brow at him.
“Oh, and by the way, it wasn’t the semen, it was the fact that your
hips jackknifed up ramming the head of your penis against the back
of my throat. It caught me off guard.”

He sat back, sliding his wrist from her hands
and crossed his arms over his chest. Giving her an answering grin,
he said, “Well, you caught me off guard a little too, you know. I
was expecting a hot fuck not a sub-zero blow job.” His brow
darkened. “Where’d you learn that little trick anyway?” Even he
could hear the trace of jealousy that had entered his voice.

“A book.”

The grin returned. “Ah. You’ll have to show
me sometime.”

She jumped up. “I’ll go get it.”

He grabbed her arm and as he hauled her down
on his lap, he said, “No. Next time.”
If there is one,
his
heart reminded. His lust changed to poignant tenderness and he hid
his face in her hair, nuzzling her ear and neck with his nose and
lips. “You are so beautiful, Dee.”

She smiled, turning and kissing him softly on
the lips before shaking her head. “I need to lose some more
weight.”

“No you don’t.”

“Oh, yes I do.”

“Where?”

“My ass for one thing.”

He straightened, moved her away slightly so
that he could give her a stern look in the eye. “You’d better not!
I love your ass. It’s sexy as hell.”

She blushed with pleasure, but her gaze
dropped away from his. “My stomach, then.”

“No way.” He stroked his hand over the area
under discussion and said, “You’re soft and feminine, don’t change
a thing.”

“But Chas, I have to. My body doesn’t go with
yours—“

He snorted. “I beg to differ—“

“You’re muscular and strong, why there’s not
an ounce of fat anywhere on you—your body type goes with someone
toned and thin.”

“Dee, look at me.” He didn’t wait for her to
comply, simply tugged her chin so that she was forced to look him
in the eye. “Don’t lose a single ounce. I like you just the way you
are. I have an affinity for curvy women, you know.”

She didn’t believe him, he could tell, and
then she proved it by saying, “I’ve never seen you with one before
me. Your ex was rail thin and gorgeous—she could have been a runway
model.”

He shrugged. “I hadn’t met you yet—for the
second time—and now that I’ve gorged myself on a banquet, I’ll
never go back to rations.” He kissed her cheek and whacked her
dazzling derrière. “Not an ounce. Understood?”

She smiled and settled into his embrace,
resting her head on his shoulder. “Understood,” she said on a
sigh.

“You know, now that I think about it, I’ll
bet I got this appetite for ample curves from my dear ol’ grandpa.
He loved the bombshells from the fifties: Marilyn, Jane Russell,
Jayne Mansfield.” He smiled, reminiscing. “Yeah, I spent a lot of
Saturdays watching old movies with him when I was a kid.” His eyes
went wide and he sat up. “Holy shit!” He hooted and looked at
Delilah. “I just remembered something hysterical!”

She laughed too. “What?”

“One time, when I was about sixteen or
seventeen, he took out this ancient magazine from a drawer in his
desk—do you know who Bettie Page is?”

Her brow furrowed. “No. Who is she?”

He laughed again, he couldn’t help it. “Only
the most famous fetish model in American history.” He relaxed
against the back of the chair again. “Anyway, he showed me a couple
of pictures of her in full domme attire: leather, sky-high pumps,
and a whip in her hand. I was seriously turned on.”

Her grin broadened. “Well, that explains a
lot.”

So did his. “Yeah, doesn’t it just?”

* * *

Delilah hummed as she closed the door a
little later that morning, listening for Chas’s car engine to
start, waiting until she heard him pulling out of her driveway
before she turned to go back to her bedroom. Tonight was the gala
and they both had a long list of things to do before it began. It
was past time for her to be dressed and out the door herself. In a
state of unutterable happiness, she sighed and smiled. Last night
had been…her mind revolted for a split second, but it was what it
was: magic. It had been magic. Romantic, sexy, fun, full of love
and laughter. Richer in texture and emotion than their first night
together, the recurring memories of it gave wing to her heart.
He loved her.
Oh, he hadn’t said it, but it hovered in every
action, in every look, it was there.

She’d had her doubts, of course. After he’d
left her at her doorstep the night of their engagement party she’d
had plenty of time to worry over his motives. And their brief
encounter yesterday morning had only fed her anxiety more. He’d
been distant and rushed. Hadn’t even mentioned wanting to see her
that evening, and she hadn’t been ready to push, so she’d left,
conflicted and heartsore, believing they wouldn’t see each other
again until tonight.

That’s why it had been both a thrill and
surprise to find him on her threshold last evening. In fact, she’d
nearly come to terms with the fact that she’d been duped into
believing he had fallen for her, when the knock came on the door.
And when he’d swept her up in his arms, had been so crazed to have
her that he wouldn’t even let them undress first, that’s when her
doubts had begun to take flight. But, she had to admit, it had been
the emotion, the longing, in his voice when he’d spoken of the
children they would have together that had sent the demon doubts
fleeing for good.  

* * *

Chas hung up the phone. It’d been a bit of a
struggle, but he’d managed to keep his tone light and carefree. Sam
Slade, his best friend from college, had agreed to fill the last
spot at their table this evening.

Chas had learned that Sam was in town just
before his engagement party and had invited him to that with the
intention of asking him to be his best man, but Sam had left the
party early, and Chas hadn’t gotten the chance to ask him. He
supposed, now that the engagement was most likely going to be
broken, it was a good thing he hadn’t gotten to talk to him.

Unfortunately, he’d forgotten about the
stupid, kind of drunken, love triangle that had occurred between
him, Isadora, and Sam that last year of college. That is, until Sam
had asked him whether Isadora would be attending the event this
evening. Then it had all come back to him in a rush. But hell, how
was he to have known at the time that Sam was head over heels for
the girl? They’d been sharing chicks their entire college career,
why should that one have been different? Besides, Isadora had come
on to him first. He defied any randy guy that age to say they’d nix
a chance for free sex with a beautiful, shapely, horny redhead. Any
guy.

Thankfully, Sam wasn’t the kind to hold a
grudge.

Chas was just lucky as hell, though, that
he’d agreed to have an early lunch with a mutual friend of his and
Sam’s today. As they’d reminisced over the “the good ol’ days”, the
guy had laughingly reminded Chas of the rumors that had gone around
back then regarding Sam, especially one in particular regarding him
and Chas’s prospective buyer. Otherwise, he would never have
remembered the connection. Of course, the rumors had been absolute
truth, but Chas would never betray them as facts to anyone without
Sam’s consent. However, now that he’d gained the reminder, he
intended to ask his old buddy for the biggest favor of his life. He
needed Sam’s powers of persuasion. Sam and the prospective buyer of
Chas’s thoroughbred had an interesting history: For a time, his
first year in college, Sam had been her boy toy. And because of
that intimate history, Chas was sure Sam could aid him in getting
the woman to open her tight fist and let go of the purchase price
of his horse.

Hell, Chas wasn’t even sure if Sam knew that
he
knew about Sam’s brief dabbling with older women of their
parent’s set, but Chas was out of other ideas. And after the night
he’d just spent in Delilah’s arms, he was even less ready to throw
in the towel.

Chas figured he’d have to tell Sam about the
financial mess he was in, in order to get him to make contact with
the potential buyer and that was not a conversation he wanted to
conduct over the phone. He’d bet his mother’s ring that Sam could
get through to her this evening, though. Hell, she’d probably
sprint
to the phone when she found out who it was calling
her after all these years. If all went as he hoped, they could go
to the stable tomorrow to check out the filly one last time and
then she could wire the money directly to his creditors on Monday
morning after the papers were signed. But he had to have a verbal
agreement this evening. This evening was crucial. He had to know
before midnight. Before he had to make his choice. Before he had to
break his own heart.

* * *

The ballroom was packed and abuzz with
excitement. Chas took a long drink of champagne and eyed the door.
Sam was late. A trickle of sweat tickled his temple. Dabbing at it
with his napkin, he looked around. The waiters had already begun
serving the meal. Looking at his watch for about the sixtieth time
in as many minutes, he leapt to his feet. “I’ll just go check on
what’s keeping the last member of our party. Be back in a
minute.”

Just as Chas made it through the doorway, Sam
strolled up, looking about as concerned as a night watchman at a
monastery. “I was beginning to think you’d changed your mind,” Chas
said, turning and leading the way into the ballroom.

“No. Just running late,” Sam said, following
him.

“The meal’s just being served. Our table’s up
front in the V.I.P. section.” He looked at his watch again. When
was he going to get a chance to talk to Sam now? He’d been counting
on using the time before dinner to find a quiet corner to spill his
guts and ask his favor.

“Here he is. My surprise number ten.” Chas
said, he hoped not too heartily. “Better late than never.” Turning
to Sam, he explained, “We put you between Delilah and her sister.”
Actually,
we
hadn’t, Delilah had, and by the time Chas had
found out, it was too late to make changes without causing a scene.
Besides, he had a much larger matter looming over his head at the
moment.

His eyes tracked around the table and stopped
short on Isadora and her mother, both of whom wore matching looks
of horror on their faces.

“Absolutely
not
. You’ll
sit
next to
me
,” Eudora trumpeted. “Move, Isadora.”

“Oh, but that will destroy the symmetry,” Sam
said.

Chas smiled in spite of himself. Leave it to
Sam to know exactly how to put the old witch in her place.

Sam dashed around to the vacant chair next to
his college sweetheart and sat down, effectively thwarting Eudora’s
preemptive strike and Chas resumed his own place between Dee and
his father.

* * *

An hour later, the meal over, Chas set his
jaw at the grating sound of Eudora’s voice plucking his tightly
strung nerves. “Come to the
powder
room Delilah, your
coiffure
needs touching up,” she said and stood up. “You
must come along, too, Isadora.”

“No thank you, mother,” Isadora said.

“Hmph.”

“I’ll be right back, darling,” Delilah told
Chas, her dulcet voice at first a balm and elixir, but ultimately a
heartrending reminder of all he would lose. He watched her rise,
his eyes following her gracefully swaying progress as she
accompanied her stepmother across the ballroom toward the exit.

“So Chas,” Sam said, “You and I should
compare notes sometime.”

Chas’s gaze didn’t stray. “Oh, yeah? About
what?” he said absently.

“Why, our Izzy, of course. She’s a real
wildcat in bed, don’t you agree?”

The words penetrated his abstraction and
Chas’s head whipped around. His eyes went straight to Isadora and
her eyes told him everything he needed to know. He sent a feral
glare Sam’s way.

She bolted from her seat, nearly knocking it
over. “I see a friend I need to speak with,” she said and hurried
away.

Chas rose to his feet, fists clenched at his
side. “I think we’d better take this discussion outside.”

His friend sat forward, dropping his face in
his hands. “No need. I’m an asshole. I admit it.”

Chas’s eyes widened in disbelief and wonder.
Sam was still in love with Isadora. Chas relaxed his stance. Of
course, it didn’t make what he’d said all right, but it certainly
made it more forgivable. Chas gave him a one-sided smile. “Yeah,
you are.”