Chapter Five
CHAPTER FIVE
Cash woke up with a raging erection and needing immediate attention. Glancing at the bedside clock he saw it was almost six o’clock. The original plans would have had the bus arriving in Manhattan at some point in the early evening, so nothing had been arranged. Pulling on his boxers, he splashed his face with water, brushed his teeth, and grabbing a condom from his toiletries bag, he left his bathroom and moved through the lounge to Marilyn’s door. Quickly knocking, he poked his head in, and he found her sitting topless in her bed wearing fresh makeup, her hair brushed, clearly waiting for him.
“I thought you’d never get here,” she grinned, pulling the sheet aside.
Dropping his shorts, he jumped on the bed, and lowered his head to kiss her ample breasts.
“What was that you said about eating red meat?” he growled, lifting his head from a large, pink nipple.
As she quickly slid down the mattress and moved her mouth over his shaft, he thought she resembled a Barbie Doll. Full breasts, a taut, skinny waist, and a perfect backside, but closing his eyes, he succumbed to the luscious pleasure. She was moving her mouth slowly, gliding up and down his cock with practiced ease, creating pressure at just the right moments on just the right places. When her fingers grabbed his balls and gently squeezed, he sucked in air, feeling the mounting orgasm much too close and much too soon. Clutching her hair, he pulled her up and ordered her on her hands and knees. As she took up the position, he stared at her backside and broke into a satisfied smile. It was still pink, with a few red blotches.
“Ask nicely,” he teased, touching her entrance.
“Please…?”
“That wasn’t very convincing,” he remarked, tickling her clit.
“Please, please fuck me, Cash.”
“That’s better, and I will, hard.”
Quickly slipping the condom into place, he thrust deep into her channel and began plunging in and out with slow, powerful strokes. As she moaned loudly and bucked back against him, he accelerated, then lifted his hand and delivered a series of rapid slaps.
“Smack me harder,” she suddenly begged. “Please, smack me harder.”
Fueled by her urgent request, he increased the force of the spanking, and a moment later he could feel her pussy pulsing against his cock.
“Cash—I’m coming.”
Her pussy throbbed against him, demanding his release. Pitching forward, he gripped her punished cheeks, surrendering to the convulsions rushing through his loins as she squealed and writhed, continuing even after his flaccid member had slipped away. Falling on his back, he reached across to the tissue box on the nightstand and wrapped his rubber in the flimsy paper.
“Holy crap, you’re amazing,” she muttered breathlessly, collapsing next to him.
It wasn’t the first time he’d been complimented, though he often thought the girls said such things because he was Cash Colt, but Marilyn appeared to be sincere.
* * *
Closing her eyes, she savored the warm tingles still invading her senses. In just a few short minutes he had taken her, devoured her, and commanded her body. It was thrilling, but confusing, and confounding. She had always been the one in charge. From her first boyfriend in high school, to the guys she dated in college, and every man since, she had been the one in control.
Crawling up the bed towards him, she was overwhelmed with a need to be held and softly kissed. She wanted to feel his breath in her ear, to curl up next to him and never leave his side. Laying her head on his chest she listened to his heart, and when his arm came around her, for a brief moment she thought she might cry. Fighting the emotion, she pushed herself up and looked at him. He was gazing out the windows at the skyline.
“Hey,” she said softly, “penny for your thoughts?”
“I was thinking about the show tomorrow night.”
“You’ll be great, you always are.”
“Thanks. I’m not sure that’s true, but I always give everything I’ve got. Excuse me, there’s something I need to do,” he announced, extricating himself from her body and moving quickly from the bed. “Get yourself together and we’ll go out for dinner?”
“Sure,” she replied, forcing a smile, hating him for leaving so abruptly.
She watched him stride from the room, then hugged a pillow and tried to calm herself down. Finally heading into the bathroom, she started the shower and stepped under the steaming water. But she remained unnerved. Cash was something special.
* * *
Cash marched into his bedroom and grabbed his phone. Opening up the page he’d started for Becky’s song, he added to his first entry.
Dancing freckles under sapphire eyes,
A pure heart that knows no lies,
Sprinkling sunshine with her smile,
I want to sit and stay a while.
A while, a while, I want to stay a while,
And warm myself in her sunshine smile.
Her sweetness lingers in my head
I want her in my bed, my bed,
Her strawberry lips are calling me
To taste them, will it ever be?
Ever be, Ever be.
To taste them will it ever be?
He could already hear part of the melody, and knew it would continue to evolve in the next few hours. Instinct told him he needed to develop it on the piano, not pluck it out on his guitar. He texted Andrew, alerting him that he’d need an hour to himself at the keyboard before the show, and he might have a surprise; an unrehearsed encore. Cash knew Andrew hated last minute changes, but the spontaneity always thrilled the crowd, and if he could pull the song together in time, he’d sing it without the band; it would be just him and the piano.
Switching gears, he searched out the phone number of the restaurant where he wanted to have dinner. It was a small Italian eatery tucked away in a corner of Little Italy. Dimly lit and intimate, it had remained under the paparazzi’s radar, and in spite of his fame his presence had never caused a scene.
“Gino, Cash. Can you squeeze in two in thirty minutes?”
“Cash. My friend, I thought you might call. Of course, for you, of course.”
“Thank you. I’ll see you soon.”
Dropping his cell on the bedside table, he picked up the hotel house phone, ordered a car, and walked into his bathroom to shower.
* * *
Shaking off the unexpected and alarming emotion, Marilyn dressed quickly. She had only one change of clothes in her hobo bag, a pair of designer jeans, a crinkle shirt, and a pair of high-heeled ankle boots. Not knowing how long Cash would keep her around wasn’t a concern. If he hit the road and left her in New York, she’d stay a few days and enjoy herself. She loved Manhattan, and being the daughter of a successful entertainment lawyer had its benefits, not the least of which was a hefty trust fund.
But her thoughts were more immediate. If she was going to carve out her own career path with a best-selling book exposing the intimate details of the man who was Cash Colt, she had to get everything she could while she had the chance. It occurred to her that going out in public with him could be extremely fortuitous. If she could get herself photographed with Cash at her side, it would give credence to her story, but she couldn’t tip off the press if she had no idea where they were headed.
Stepping out into the living room, she could hear Cash singing as he dressed, his husky, soulful voice carrying through the suite. It was one of his biggest hits, a song heard across the planet, and she wondered idly what it must feel like to be so famous and to have achieved so much. A moment later he walked in, greeting her with a wide smile. He was dressed in a black shirt and black jeans, brown alligator belt and cowboy boots.
“The only other clothes I had on me,” he said with a grin.
“Me too. I’ll go shopping tomorrow.”
“The wardrobe vans should have arrived by now. I can get something sent over.”
“Where are we going for dinner?”
“Gino Vittorios. It’s in Little Italy, and has the best Italian food outside of Italy.”
“Sorry, I just remembered something. I’ll be right back.”
“Sure,” he replied, pulling out his phone and placing a call. “Hank? Hi, it’s Cash. I need some clothes...”
Running into her bedroom and closing the door, she grabbed her cell phone and hurriedly texted the editor of the rock magazine to whom she’d pitched her story.
Cash and I are having dinner at a place called Gino Vittorios in Little Italy. Can you get a photographer over there?
You bet. I’ll pay you if it pans out.
I don’t care about that. I just need some pics. We’ll be there in fifteen minutes.
I’m on it.
Though she felt a pang of guilt, she shook it off and returned to the living room.
“Are you ready?” Cash asked. “I’m starving.”
“Yep, how did you find this place?”
“Lenny. He used to live here, and thank God the paparazzi still don’t have it on their radar,” he declared, as they left the room and walked to the elevator. “It’s one of the few places I can have dinner in New York without flash bulbs in my face.”
Reaching the lobby, they hurried out to the waiting car.
“How do you know the concierge in the hotel won’t tip anyone off?”
“I didn’t use the concierge. We’re going to have a peaceful, quiet dinner, and I’m really looking forward to it.”
“I guess you’ll be busy tomorrow,” she remarked, praying desperately he wouldn’t figure she’d contacted the press when the photographers arrived.
“Yep, very busy. I won’t see you until after the show. That reminds me,” he muttered, pulling out his phone.
“Wow, you’d be lost without that thing.”
“Oh, yeah, totally, it’s got everything in it, even the songs I’m in the middle of writing. I have it permanently glued to my being,” he chuckled. “Hey, Stacey, send over a VIP access pass, and a ticket for Marilyn...hold on,” he said, staring at her. “Last name?” he whispered.
“Oh, uh, Sanders.”
“Marilyn Sanders,” he said into the phone. “Thanks.”
Dropping it back in his pocket, he turned and smiled at her.
“How’s your gorgeous ass?”
“A teeny bit tender,” she whispered back, “but it was worth it.”
“Seems to me a teeny bit tender is not enough. Something I’ll remedy when we return from dinner.”
The threat sent an unexpected wave of heat through her sex, and she shifted in her seat, an involuntary reaction to his warning.
“It’s a shame you’re not wearing a dress,” he said softly, moving his lips to her ear. “I’d insist you sit on your bare backside all through dinner.”
His hand was burning through the denim, and she ached to feel his full, moist lips against hers. Lifting her hands, she placed them on either side of his face, and closing her eyes, she searched out his mouth. His hand lifted from her leg, captured a large chunk of her hair and tugged back her head. Startled, her eyes flew open.
“Keep them closed,” he ordered, “and drop your hands.”
She did as he said, but her heart was hammering. He was controlling her again, and she loved it.
His tongue licked its way across her lips, pushed between her teeth, then his lips were on hers, surprisingly gentle. Moving, pressing, releasing, tongue dancing on the roof of her mouth, then not, his lips sucking hers, then not, then sliding, until finally, just when she thought she might faint, he released her.
“Is that what you wanted, little girl?”
She couldn’t breathe, her pulse was racing, and the butterflies had moved from her stomach into her heart. Never had she known what it meant to melt from a man’s kiss, but she did now. “Answer me, is that what you wanted?”
“Uh-huh.”
“During dinner, think about me doing that to your pussy, understand?”
“Oooh, God, I’m melting.”
“I didn’t hear a yes.”
“Yes, Cash.”
As he slowly released her hair, she leaned into his shoulder, trying to catch her breath and wishing she hadn’t called in the photographer, then realized the car was about to pull into the curb.
“Cash, I’m so sorry,” she exclaimed, grabbing his arm. “I suddenly feel dizzy. Can we go back to the hotel?”
“Let’s go inside. Maybe if you eat something—”
“No, really. I feel crazy hot,” she moaned. “I can’t face it. I’m really sorry.”
“Driver, turn around, take us back to the hotel, please,” Cash instructed.
“Yes, Sir,” the driver replied, and accelerated back into the traffic.
Sinking back into the seat, Marilyn gulped back her relief as she watched Cash pull out his phone.
“Gino, it’s Cash. My friend isn’t feeling well so we’re going back to the hotel. Can you send our meal over there? The Chicken Marsala Pasta would be terrific. Thanks, Gino.” Ending the call, but still holding the phone, he turned and looked at her. “Not to worry, he’s sending over my favorite dish. Are you sure you don’t want anything?”
“I, uh, I don’t think so. I feel really strange.”
“My kisses can do that,” he chuckled.
“I’m really sorry.”
“Enough with the apologies. Gino always gives me too much. If you’re feeling better we can share mine, and there’s always room service.”
The car whisked them back to the hotel, and as they entered the suite, she wandered across to the window. She was searching for something to say when Cash’s phone beeped.
“My world never sleeps,” he remarked, staring at the screen. “I need to drop by Lenny’s room for five minutes. When the food arrives, tell them to set it up in the dining room. I won’t be long. Will you be okay?”
“I’m sure I’ll be fine,” she replied, and afraid he would see the deceit on her face, she continued to gaze at the city lights.
“Just take it easy,” he said warmly, then disappeared out the door.