Playing With Fuego Part 10

In the last couple of years, expensive personal grooming had come under tightening budget scrutiny, but I always found enough savings in generic groceries and toiletries to set aside sixty dollars a month for this essential gift to myself. The appeal went well beyond the intensity of a wet tongue on my smooth l.a.b.i.a. I liked the way it looked and how soft it felt under my own touch, so much that I often went to sleep with- Enough about me.

Mari's pants and ivory lace thong slid off her like quicksilver, revealing a lovely bare mons that glowed against her dark tan lines. Mercy!

I rolled the coverlet to the foot of the bed and nudged her back against the pillows. Then I shed my own pants and crawled onto her, moaning with bliss as our warm skin melded atop the cool sheets.

I wanted to tell her she felt magnificent, but we were now under a silent spell in which our bodies did all the talking. As my thigh pressed between her legs, she arched gently upward and threw her head back, allowing me to warm up my lips for the Big Event on her lovely neck. All the while her fingertips danced around the small of my back, occasionally dipping down to stroke the Y-shaped dimple at the base of my spine. I loved the tickling sensation and the boldness of her intimate touch, but I wasn't ready to turn my attention from her, not when every little thing I did caused that marvelous. .h.i.tch in her breathing.

With a slight shift, I maneuvered back into position to kiss her, this time letting my fingers wander south to her breast. I struck a perfect rhythm to alternately tease both her tongue and nipple, and she soon began to squirm with want. That's when I lowered my head and took half her breast into my mouth.

She answered with a long hiss...no translation needed.

I pressed her b.r.e.a.s.t.s together and nestled my face between them, deciding this was where I wanted to sleep tonight much later when our bodies finally succ.u.mbed to fatigue. As I brushed my cheek against her pebbled nipple, I reached my hand between her legs and cupped her whole s.e.x. The moist warmth turned to wet heat as she opened herself and I slid my fingers through her as if stirring honey.

I had to taste her.

She was ready for that, her lips swollen and glistening. As I lowered my mouth, I raised my eyes to look at her, but she was already lost. Her sharp intake of breath as my mouth fell upon her was all the proof I needed she was still there with me. I could have lavished that soft cleft with teasing licks and nibbles all night, but Mari climbed out of control right away. When her hand pressed against the back of my head to hold me in place, I knew her climax was imminent and I wanted all of her I could get. Without changing the strokes of my firm tongue against her c.l.i.toris, I slid two fingers inside her.

She cried out as her inner walls clutched my hand with spasms. "Oh, Daphne..."

It's always good to hear your own name called out in the heat of the moment.

I held my spot for nearly a minute while her waves receded. Then I went right back to work with my tongue, drawing a second, third and even a fourth climax until she tugged on my ear to say she'd had enough.

"I'm about to use your favorite word," Mari said, running her hand through my hair as I laid my head on her chest. "That was exquisite."

"It certainly was."

"My bones have gone to water. I couldn't move it I wanted to."

"You don't have to. Stay right here and go to sleep if that's how you feel." I didn't really mean that.

"Not a chance. I'm taking exactly three minutes to get the blood flow back out to my extremities, and then I'm going to show you all the mercy you showed me."

She was free to show me anything. I've never been the kind of girl to follow the very first kiss with a roll in the sack, but I'd been dealing with my attraction to Mari for so long, it felt like we'd been dating for weeks. Though I hardly knew her, what I did know made me trust her.

I was ready to start all over when she b.u.mped me off her chest and onto my back.

"You have a gorgeous body," she said, trailing a finger from my throat through the valley of my b.r.e.a.s.t.s to my navel and back.

My brain couldn't form any words to answer, so I smiled and closed my eyes to concentrate on her touch. I've always been relatively happy with my physical self. It's my emotional and behavioral selves that need work, and I had high hopes Mari's calming presence would rub off on me in a good way.

"My name is Mari. That's M..." She traced an M just below my navel. "A...R..."-across my diaphragm-"and I." The last letter she drew from one of my nipples to the other, bringing both to hardened peaks.

"Now your address with the nine-digit zip code."

"Don't worry. I don't plan to leave any parts of you untouched."

She methodically delivered on her promise one inch at a time, starting with the tips of my fingers and working her way to my shoulders, leaving all the downy hairs on my arms standing in her wake.

"I like this spot right here," she said, gently pinching the pliable skin at the base of my earlobe. "I'm betting it has the same texture as one of your more private places."

Where Mari was concerned, I preferred not to have any private places. "Only one way to find out."

"All in good time." She nuzzled my neck until I turned my head for her, and then she nibbled gently on my earlobe. "What do you think about when you feel my teeth nipping at you here?"

I hoped this wasn't a character test, because I hadn't been dwelling on world peace. Nor did I want to tell her the truth-that I'd been listening to her breathe-because I didn't want her to become overly aware she was giving so much emotion away. "I'm really busy feeling. Don't ask me to think too."

"How good are you at feeling two things at once?" She returned her lips to my ear as her fingernails began gently sc.r.a.ping my nipple.

"It's..." I sucked in a breath through my teeth. "I'm very good."

"Lucky for you."

I caught her lips and pulled her into another deep kiss. She draped her leg over mine and continued lavishing attention on my breast, alternating between gentle caresses and sharp tweaks so I couldn't forget she was there no matter how many other hotspots were erupting. I considered reminding her that she hadn't finished writing all over me yet, but she didn't need any help, especially if her goal was to pluck me like a harp. Postponing the inevitable for a bit longer was a good idea anyway because I would probably explode the second she touched me, and I didn't have a clip full of climaxes just waiting to fire off. I'd be lucky to survive the first one.

The moment her hand left my breast I knew it was headed somewhere important. We both moaned when it got there, but that was the extent of our verbal communication from that point on. Everything else we said with our bodies, mine pushing upward as her fingers tickled my s.e.x all too lightly, and hers sliding against me in what felt like a backbeat tempo. The effect of having her pull back as I pressed into her was maddening. It was also all that kept me from climaxing way too early.

She pressed her cheek next to mine, letting me hear every gasp, pant and sigh. It was thrilling to know she was as excited as I was, just as I'd been when she surrendered to me.

When her fingers dipped inside me and then back up to encircle my Screaming c.l.i.toris, I felt the first hot vibration of my impending climax. I was barely aware that my hand was flicking her shoulder at the same speed and pressure I would have used had I been touching myself. She must have gotten my message, though, since she gave me exactly what I needed.

I drew a deep breath and held it, simultaneously clutching Mari's head to hold her close as my whole body shuddered with release.

The waves were still pulsing when she squirmed free of my grasp and lowered her face to my navel, clearly on her way to taste what she'd done to me.

"No, no...I can't. It's too sensitive." Even having her look at it was enough to send electric jolts through my whole body.

"So there isn't another one hiding in there?"

"One and done."

"For how long?"

"At least an hour."

Undaunted, she nuzzled my neck, letting her b.r.e.a.s.t.s sway across my abdomen. "Enough time to savor Benito's fabulous flan. Every bite is like an o.r.g.a.s.m for your taste buds. I'm telling you, that man descended from epicurean royalty."

Fetching the flan from the living room where I'd dropped it required getting up, and getting up required moving. Flan couldn't possibly taste better than lying here with Mari felt.

Not that I have anything against eating in bed.

Chapter Twelve.

Mari's wealth management firm was in a canyon of office buildings and condos in the Brickell neighborhood, with its clean streets and broad, tree-lined sidewalks. The financial center of practically all of Latin America, it's home to dozens of international banks and foreign consulates. If Emily and I had shopped around before buying our place, I might have argued for something in this area, since it has restaurants and street-level retail in most of the buildings, and a supermarket within walking distance. Anything that keeps me out of my car is a plus.

Even getting here from my place was a breeze-a short walk to the Omni Station, then a twelve-minute ride on the Metromover, Miami's free downtown rail trolley that hums a few stories above rush hour traffic, and another short walk at the end. The only problem with walking around Miami is crossing streets, because Mordy's Three-Second Rule applies double to pedestrians. It's unwise to step into the intersection too soon, and once you do, you'd best quick-foot it to the other side.

I waited for a dark Chevy Suburban to pa.s.s, but instead it pulled against the curb at the corner into a No Parking zone. So typical. Drivers in Miami pay no attention to signs. It's beyond me why anyone would need such a ma.s.sive vehicle in Miami in the first place, but apparently they're all the rage. There had been another one exactly like it parked in the circle at my condo, right under the Loading Zone Only sign.

Mari's office was on the twenty-fourth floor of One Brickell Square, a towering structure of white concrete and gla.s.s with marble floors throughout not only the lobby but the outdoor plaza as well. It was after six and most workers had gone for the day.

The mirrored walls of the elevator gave me one last chance to check my look. I'd gone home after work to change into something I hoped would pa.s.s for casual elegance, slacks with a plain silk blouse and a colorful silk corsage I'd gotten for Christmas two years ago from my Secret Santa at the foundation...someone with fashion sense. Mari was taking me to dinner across the street at Truluck's, and then giving me a tour of her condo. From the suggestive tone of our kazillion text messages over the last three days, I wasn't expecting to see any more of her place than she'd seen of mine a couple of nights ago.

Mari had described her wealth management firm as a boutique family business, which just happened to control more than two billion dollars in investments. She and Pepe oversaw the accounts with the help of five sales consultants, an accountant, three junior a.n.a.lysts-one of whom was Chacho's older brother-and three administrative a.s.sistants, including Talia's mom, who was Mari's sister-in-law. Another key player was Felix, her gay uncle, who served as the firm's legal counsel.

A receptionist, dressed as if she were on her way to a nightclub, met me at the door. All young Hispanic women seem to dress that way, probably knowing perfectly well how much pressure it puts on the rest of us.

"You must be Daphne," she said, her Spanish accent barely noticeable. Second generation, I'd guess. "Mari's in her office...next to last door on the left."

There wasn't another soul in the place, which made me feel bad for the poor woman working reception. She'd probably stayed late at Mari's request to show me in.

Mari was on the phone, but grinned and waved when she saw me. "Let me talk to Pepe. I bet he'll want to have you to dinner on the yacht one night. Does that sound like something you and your wife would enjoy?"

Ah, yes...dinner on the yacht with our friends. For Mari and Pepe, it was just another day at the office, while for me it had been a once-in-a-lifetime fantasy come true.

Beyond her desk was a gorgeous view of flickering lights from the luxury condos and hotels on Brickell Key. If I looked out on that all day, I'd never get anything done. Even the inside of her office was beautiful, with expensive furniture and not a single element of the decor out of place. Thirty-three years old and already sitting on top of the world.

"Hey, sweetie," she said when she dropped the phone. "Thanks for meeting me. Did you look around?"

"I saw enough. It looks like a great place to work." I was still playing back the mental tape of her calling me sweetie, and taking in the sight of her tight brown skirt, plunging ivory top and open-toed platform pumps.

"Come over here." She led me to the window and pointed to the building next door, soaring so high above us that its reflection twinkled in the bay. "That's where I live. I walk to work every day."

"Now you're just rubbing it in. I'd be downright cheerful all the time if I had your commute." I waited as she tidied her desk and collected her handbag. "Sounds like you and Pepe have lots of dinners on the yacht."

"Yeah, that's something he likes to do for all the Iberican investors. It reminds them how rich they are, so they don't balk when we tell them it costs five million to buy in."

"Five million dollars?"

"I know. It's not for average investors, just the ones who have serious cash. Most of our clients are inst.i.tutions, like corporations, or pension funds and foundations. Pepe won't even let me invest because I can't afford it."

"I guess you won't be coming after my IRA."

She surprised me with a kiss, more intense than I would have expected in such a public place. "I don't care about your money, but I'm quite interested in your other a.s.sets."

Good thing.

"I never do business with my friends. They all want discounts and insider tips that would send me to jail. Besides, investing is risky, and friends don't like it when you lose their money."

The sound of a throat clearing startled me but Mari seemed nonplussed about holding me in her arms as the receptionist handed her a folded slip of paper.

"Sorry...I took a message." Her voice was decidedly apologetic, and I got the impression it was for the message itself rather than the intrusion. She didn't wait around for Mari's reaction.

Mari glanced at the note, rolled her eyes and dropped it into the wastebasket. "I know I said we'd eat at Truluck's but then I got a better idea. Hope you don't mind."

"You should know by now I'd skip dinner for the right distraction."

We walked out the main entrance and crossed the street to the mirrored SunTrust Bank building, where Truluck's occupied the ground floor.

"I thought we weren't going to eat here."

"We aren't." She went through her usual animated greeting of the hostess, who took her credit card and handed her a large paper bag. "I figured we'd eat in."

I like a girl who keeps secrets. And wears tight skirts.

One thing I truly adore about Hispanic women is their habit of walking arm in arm with other women. I'd see them all over South Beach or Bayside and wonder if they were lovers or just family or friends. So it was no surprise when Mari hooked her elbow with mine once we started down Brickell Bay Avenue to her condo building, the Plaza at Brickell. Whereas I considered my building moderately luxurious, her place was the whole enchilada. Or since we're in Miami, let's call it the whole arepa. The lobby looked like a grand ballroom, with marble floors, fountains and crystal chandeliers as big as my car. Mari pressed the b.u.t.ton for the forty-ninth floor and I braced for having my ears pop.

Walking into her apartment was like stepping onto the cover of one of those urban home magazines, the kind that make you realize there's more to interior design than where to put the furniture. A single spot shone down from above the kitchen island, revealing one of the most elegant living s.p.a.ces I'd seen in all of Miami. The brown and gray of her granite countertops set a muted tone for all her decor, which included a low-profile sectional sofa, wall-mounted electronics and a plush rug. Floor-to-ceiling gla.s.s formed the far wall, beyond which I could see the lights on the gantry cranes at the far end of the Port of Miami.

"This is incredible."

"Nice, isn't it? When I first went to work for Pepe about ten years ago, I'd look over here every day and dream about buying something in this building. Then one day at lunch I walked into the lobby and there happened to be a realtor standing there. Her appointment had stood her up, so she showed me this and I didn't even negotiate. Pepe could have killed me."

"You don't negotiate for your dreams. You just go get them."

"That's exactly what I told him." She set the bag on the counter. "Show yourself around while I get dinner ready. My cleaning lady came today, so I shouldn't have any embarra.s.sing messes."

I wandered first into the near bedroom, obviously the one where Mari slept. Two entire walls of gla.s.s offered the same view as the living room, giving the impression of endless s.p.a.ce. A king-sized bed draped in a gray coverlet and stacked with pillows dominated the suite, which included a walk-in closet as large as my guest room and a bathroom fit for a queen. It was all I could do not to riffle through her rack of designer clothes, but I didn't even try to resist counting the shoes-twenty-six pairs.

When I returned to the living room, Mari was nowhere in sight but the door out to the terrace was open. I walked past the dining table to what turned out to be a second bedroom suite, not quite as large as the other, but equally elegant because it had its own private terrace. What it didn't have was a bed. A futon-perfect for putting up guests you hope won't stay long-sat against one wall, but a desk, credenza and computer dominated this room.

"Mari, if I lived here, I'd never want to leave. It's gorgeous."

She came in from the terrace and waved me out. "You haven't even seen the best part."

Right she was. Nestled on the terrace was a bistro table draped in a white cloth, two chic place settings, a bottle of wine and a pair of flickering candles.

"Wow." I didn't dare say what I thought, which was that it was the most romantic scene anyone had ever set for me. I was more than happy to get romance from Mari, but I didn't want to read too much into it because we hadn't traded any words to that effect. All we had between us was one actual date and a night of hot s.e.x. Really, really hot s.e.x. For all I knew, dinner on the yacht or terrace was her idea of foreplay, not romance.

She'd probably be mortified to know how far my fantasies about her actually went. I joke in my head all the time about marrying every beautiful woman who gives me the time of day, all the while knowing that's my end game when I finally meet the right one. Not that I'm saying Mari's the right one, but if she is, that's where I expect romantic love to go. The moment she realizes she loves me madly and can't live without me, I'm sure I'll be ready.

"I a.s.sumed you liked stone crab," she said, pouring each of us a gla.s.s of Louis Jadot's Pouilly Fuisse, something I'd seen on menus but never ordered because it's out of my price range.

"Mari, this is wonderful, better than any restaurant could have been."

"Yeah, I probably should have cooked something, but I leave things like stone crab to the pros. I haven't eaten out here like this in a couple of years."

The math was easy on that one. It would have been right around the time Delores moved in. "I'd probably be out here every night, even if I was eating a Happy Meal by myself."

"What's not to love about it? Miami's the most beautiful place on earth."