Deuce's Dancer Read online

  "You're not bad on the beach yourself," she told him. And, in fact, he was incredible on the nude beach. The other female tourists turned their heads and stared as he walked by. Hard muscled and bronzed by the sun, he was gorgeous. Pilar couldn't help but be proud to be seen with him, proud that he was spending his time with her. She told herself again that it was temporary. They'd each go their separate ways in two more days.

  He touched her face, and she automatically rubbed her cheek in his palm. They fit together like they were locking puzzle pieces, each completing the other.

  They had a shot of tequila and then another, quietly listening to the music. As the third shot was served, Pilar giggled. "You're trying to get me drunk."

  He grinned, unabashed. "Would I do that?"

  "It won't work. Tequila is my drink. It doesn't make me drunk."

  A skeptical look turned up the corners of his mouth, and he took the shot away from her, downing it himself. "Now we'll never have to know if you're telling the truth or not."

  For a moment, she thought about all the truths she wasn't telling, but she got out her mental shovel and buried that notion deep. She forced a laugh, and he laughed in return. The sound of his baritone brought her genuine joy, so she smiled at him, feeling the curl of desire beginning to throb deep inside.

  The jazz combo played a slow dance song and they took to the floor. Pilar tried hard not to fall prey to the seduction of his body against hers and his hands on her hips, guiding her belly against his hard cock.

  As the female singer got to the refrain of "Don't Let Me Be Lonely Tonight," Pilar realized that her resistance was hopeless. Deuce seemed to come to the same realization and took her hand, leading her back to his suite.

  They kissed outside his door. It was a deep kiss, full of understanding that something magic was happening, something as sensual as the smell of flowers in the tropical garden nearby. The moon shone on his hair, giving it a glossy blue tint. Pilar dueled with his tongue as he explored her mouth. She writhed against him, giving up her fight for the moral high ground.

  "Tonight," he told her.

  She nodded and he opened his door.

  He had a big suite, commensurate with his healthy salary. Hers was a closet in comparison, and she'd saved for most of five years to be able to afford even that. But for this night, the suite was hers. Hers and his together. They were going to share themselves in this suite. She was going to take what he offered and revel in it.

  Moonlight streamed in the windows, casting shadows through the room, but he didn't turn on the light.

  Impatience exaggerated his movements as he slowly undressed her, and Pilar was grateful for the fact that he took the extra time. Left up to her, she'd have stripped them both bare within seconds, but it was much better to carefully peel off the clothes, drawing out the moments. They'd seen each other naked before, after all, but this was special.

  Standing there, her panties on the floor, Pilar got a chance to watch him. He didn't rip off his garments, but he did make quick work of them. When he was finally naked, a sense of power drifted over her. She was the reason for that thick erection. She was the one who'd excited him until his flesh fairly vibrated. She was the one who would get to experience that potency inside her.

  Pilar wrapped her arms around his neck as he lifted her and took her to the netting-canopied bed. The coverlet was pristine white, softly textured and silky cool against her back.

  Deuce kissed her, taking her mouth with the passion she'd been sensing all night. It was a rough kiss, as though he couldn't hold back any longer. She wasn't interested in playing nice either, all the pent up longing rising to the surface of her skin, making her itchy with anticipation. Her fingers slid down his strong back until she found his tight behind and cupped it, kneading it, enjoying the play of muscle and flesh under her hands.

  He made a small sound as he kissed her throat, the indentation of her collarbones, and down her chest. As his mouth closed on a hard nipple, she gasped and arched against him. She wanted him to devour her. He nearly did. He suckled her nipples, one after the other, until she was squirming and fretting underneath him.

  There was a sweet sensation of pleasure as his fingers dipped between her legs. She knew she was wet, very wet. His finger slid in so easily, followed by another, tighter. He pushed moisture from her slick pussy up toward her clit, and nipped at her nipples. The bites drove her crazy. She wanted him, all of him, inside her, against her, over her, grinding her into the bed.

  Instead he touched her clit and that single touch sent her skyrocketing. She was close, so close, just a few more strokes. Yes, like that.

  "I need…" she said on a moan.

  "Not yet," he told her, as he slid down her body, tickling kisses down her belly until he got to the place where his fingers had been moments before. She spread her legs open for him, hands gripping his hair until she caught herself pulling and stopped.

  "Please."

  Her clit fairly sparked as the tip of his tongue touched it. When he sucked it into his mouth, she cried out, arching her hips up. More. She wanted more. Now!

  "Turn onto your belly," he told her as he lifted his head.

  "What?"

  He guided her by her hips. "Over."

  She didn't want to be on her tummy, she wanted to wrap her legs around him and draw him deep, but he had other ideas. The sharp crack of his hand against her bottom made her gasp. Pleasure coursed through her. How did he know? How could he know she'd dreamed of a moment like this? Could he sense her desire to submit to him, to feel the strength of him taking what she offered and a little more as well?

  Several more smacks landed on her ass and she raised her hips, offering a better target, an eager landing point for his spanks.

  And spank her he did. Her bottom was smarting and hot, but he didn't stop. She writhed and flinched, but he didn't stop. She found herself begging for more. He was mastering her, bringing her out of herself, taking her out of her head and into the moment--only the moment.

  "More," she said gasping and beginning to sob. "More."

  "You have a gorgeous ass, Angie," he said, kneeling beside her, his hand striking rhythmically. "You should see it. It's turnin' a perfect red. Makes me want to fuck you."

  "Do it," she begged.

  "I'll decide when."

  "Please!" Her bottom was furious, screaming at her for mercy, but Deuce wasn't showing any mercy. The spanks continued.

  When she thought she couldn't take anymore, when she thought she'd fall to pieces with wanting him inside of her, he stopped spanking and turned her back over forcefully.

  "Open your legs, sugar. Time's come."

  "Yes. Oh yes," she told him, spreading her knees and loving the feeling of him looming over her. He paused long enough to reach for a foil packet on the side table. "Been waitin' there for three days, Angie. I'm hot as can be for you."

  Anxiously, she helped him roll the condom onto his hard cock. He slid into her pussy with a firm, slow motion. Wild lust flared in her body. She wanted him to take her hard, to crush her into the bed. But he was patient, so damned patient. His slow movements frayed her nerves. Begging, she arched against him and tried to pull him down on her.

  "You want somethin', sugar?" His voice was a tease.

  A burst of desperate anger flared in her. "Yes, goddamn it! Don't make me wait!"

  He withdrew until only the tip of his cock remained inside her, and paused there. She yanked at his hips, scratched his back.

  "I hate you!"

  "No you don't, sugar," he said on a chuckle. "You hate waitin'."

  "Please, please, please…"

  "Alright." He drove into her hard and fast, pistoning into her deep and strong. She moaned into his mouth as he kissed her, his tongue matching the rhythm of his hips as he pummeled her pussy.

  Helpless, screaming, she peaked, stars bursting before her eyes and in her skull. "Deuce!"

  He was panting, but he was relentless, driving into her as s
he came hard around him. Finally, he pressed her deep into the mattress and groaned softly, holding steady. Pilar felt the rhythmic pulses of his cock as he came.

  Wrapping her arms around him, she sighed, breathing hard as he lowered himself onto the bed next to her. "I reckon that was worth waitin' for," he said on a breath.

  She playfully socked him in the shoulder, but nestled into the place under his arm soon after.

  The memory of their next two days together plagued her, back at her job, back in her quiet apartment, and back from paradise. She had to get over him. She had to remind herself of all the reasons why she'd closed down that avenue to happiness.

  Pilar Peréz wasn't the girl for Deuce Journey, and no amount of wishing would make it so.

  Chapter 2

  Pilar read the name on the office door and confirmed that it was Dr. Julie Stone's office. Dr. Stone was the person who'd helped her father when he'd had his heart attack ten days before. It had been a scary experience, and, fortunately for the family, not a very serious one, but it required some follow up. No matter if her father said he was feeling fine and thought it was a waste of time.

  They also had to work out the payment arrangements. Her father was uninsured. Pilar didn't know how they'd manage to pay for all the expensive medical care, but the Peréz family always made good on their debts, and this was no exception. Dr. Stone had done her job well and now it was the family's turn to do the right thing.

  Pilar's mother didn't like doctors or doctors' offices, so it fell to Pilar to take her non-English-speaking father to the doctor. Dr. Stone spoke Spanish well, but not all nurses and technicians did, even in south Texas. It was important for her father to understand the instructions given to him as well as being able to communicate any difficulties or questions he might have.

  They waited briefly in the waiting room before a smiling nurse escorted them into a treatment room. A few minutes later, there was a tap on the door. Pilar responded and the door opened.

  Her brain went on stand-by due to shock.

  Deuce Journey came in, pausing as he saw her. "Angie?"

  "'Angie?'" her father asked gruffly. "Why is he calling you that, Pilar? I thought that was over."

  "Um…Papa... I…uh…" She looked at Deuce who was clearly confused, though he watched her closely.

  He rescued her, though Pilar couldn't figure out why he would. She'd held so much back from him, despite the pain it caused them both. Although she'd fantasized about him often in the two weeks since they'd parted, she knew nothing could come of their relationship—if you could call it a relationship—so she'd stored her battered emotions in a corner of her heart and tried to ignore their constant sobbing.

  Deuce offered his hand to Pilar's father.

  "Deuce Journey," he said. That remembered voice gave Pilar shivers, though her panic was mounting. If her father found out about their torrid affair, there'd be hell to pay. It didn't matter that she was twenty-eight years old and had an apartment and a life of her own. Her father was a dictator at home and with his children. A benevolent dictator, but he brooked no nonsense or immoral behavior.

  Juan Peréz shook Deuce's hand. "Juan Peréz. You know my daughter?"

  Pilar tried not to sound harsh, but her interruption came out sharply. "Where's Dr. Stone?" Both men looked at her, as if surprised she was speaking. "I mean…"

  "She's out due to a family emergency. Dr. Crestview and I are filling in for her while she's away. We have the practice next door. It's a loose affiliation."

  Plain, old, happenstance. Pilar wondered what would go awry next.

  But Deuce wasn't finished speaking and his Spanish was perfect. Her father would understand every word. "Yes, I know your daughter, Mr. Peréz. She and I met in Jamaica. We were both on vacation there and-"

  "Dr. Journey and I didn't have much time together." Well, that much was true enough.

  Juan looked between the two, his brows beetled and lined face showing his irritation. "That's all, Pilar?"

  Pilar nodded vigorously, while Deuce pulled out his stethoscope. She could sense the tension in his body, even from three feet away. She knew he was going to have something to say about finding her, but maybe she could slip out before he got the chance.

  "Since you speak Spanish, Dr. Journey, you don't need me here. I'll just go-"

  "The technician who'll be doing your father's stress test only speaks English, Ms. Peréz. You might want to stay here."

  "Oh." Her heart was beating so fast, she felt like a hummingbird. Deuce's cologne reminded her of nuzzling against him in bed. Her cheeks got hot even thinking about it and she hoped that no one would notice.

  Deuce gave her a look that said he did notice, as he was listening to her father's breathing with his stethoscope. He went on with the exam like she wasn't there, however.

  "Okay, Mr. Peréz, you can see the nurse and she'll get you set up with the technician who'll be doing the stress test. We need to put some jogging shorts on you. You're going for a run."

  "Hmph," was all her father said, but he got off the table and headed toward the door. As he was leaving, Deuce put a hand out to stop Pilar from following. A big hand, one that she remembered touching her intimately. Her stomach did a flip-flop.

  "We need to talk, Ang…Pilar."

  "We don’t have anything to say to each other, Deuce."

  "I'm not so sure of that. I know I have things I'd like to say to you."

  Nothing polite, she was sure, and nothing harsher than she deserved for misleading him. He had a right to be unhappy and it pained her, but her reasons remained. "I need to go help my father." She tried to walk by, but he took her arm. It was a gentle hold, but firm.

  He held up her father's chart. "Your number is here on his chart as an emergency contact, Pilar. I'll call you tonight."

  "Deuce…" Oh, how she'd love to talk to him. They'd had so much to talk about. But, there was a lot that had to be left unsaid. She couldn't let him get attached to her. It wasn't fair. If he knew… "Look, Deuce, I'm not available."

  "There's someone else?"

  "No. But you don't understand-"

  "I'll call you. Go help your father." Stepping out of the way, he whispered softly as she walked by. "Tonight. Don't forget."

  She'd never forget. Never.

  * * *

  Pilar paced the carpet in her apartment that evening, waiting for Deuce's call. She would have liked to duck out and be a coward, but he'd be calling her cell phone anyway, so he'd find her no matter where she went. She considered simply turning the phone off, but with her father's recent heart attack, it might be irresponsible. When it rang, she nearly jumped out of her skin, she was so tense.

  It was now or never. Pressing a button on the phone would send the call to voicemail. They'd never have to talk. She bit her lip as the phone rang two more times. "Oh hell." She picked it up and hit the answer button.

  "Hello?"

  "Hello, Ang…Pilar." He gave a bark of a laugh. "It's going to take me a while to get used to calling you that."

  "You don't need to get-"

  "Look, Pilar. I respect your privacy. I respect your desire to keep your vacation separate from your real life. I get that, I really do. But now things have crossed over. We're both in Houston. Your father is my patient. We might run into each other anywhere."

  "Houston is a big city, Deuce."

  "We ran into each other already, didn't we?"

  That was undeniable. "Well…yes. But Deuce, it can't work for us. It can't."

  "Why not?" The frustration in his voice was unmistakable.

  "It's complicated."

  "Explain it to me and I might understand."

  "I…we…"

  "Have dinner with me, Pilar. Tonight."

  She wanted to run away into her bedroom and pull the covers over her head. Dealing with this was a nightmare. It was tearing her in two. But maybe she could end it. She couldn't tell him all the truth, but she could tell him part of it. He'd accept that and
go away. "Alright."

  "I'll come pick you up."

  There was no question that she could trust him with her address. He wasn't a stalker. They'd gotten to know each other—or she'd gotten to know him at least—in Jamaica. "Okay." She gave him the address and directions.

  "I'll be there in an hour, Pilar. We won't do anything fancy."

  She sighed. It didn't matter. The food, the atmosphere, everything about it would be ruined when she tried to explain. All the sweet memories of him were going to be crushed once he realized the risk of associating with her.

  "Deuce…"

  "Yes?"

  "Don't be mad at me."

  He paused. "It's that bad, huh?"

  "Promise."

  "Okay, sugar. I've got my patience strapped on."

  They rang off and she tried to figure out what to wear to tell a man she adored good-bye for the second time.

  * * *

  Pilar had a small apartment in a mediocre part of the city. It wasn't particularly safe there for her, and Deuce's protective instincts rose. He reminded himself that he was going to be patient and listen to her. He was not going to ignore her concerns and try to bully her into melting into his arms as she once had. Although there wasn't mutual respect—her behavior clearly indicated that she didn't trust him—he did respect her and would give her a chance.

  Maybe her reasons were sound.

  As he was considering that unpleasant idea, she opened the door. Deuce smiled though his heart lurched. Although he'd imagined her a hundred times since they'd parted, she was ten times as lovely as he remembered.

  He raised his hands for a hug, but withdrew them when her gaze dropped and she stepped away from the door.

  The foyer was small, the carpet threadbare, and her living room sparsely furnished. Things were colorful and comfortable-looking, but nothing was new. Deuce realized how little he knew about her, almost nothing.

  "Hi," she said softly. "I'll get my purse."