Every Move She Makes. Beverly BartonЧитать онлайн книгу.
her rear end. His muscular arms circled her. One hand covered a breast and the other crept up her skirt and eased between her legs. She shivered with anticipation. She was already hot and wet and throbbing.
She flung open the door. Reed shoved her inside and slammed the door behind them. She’d left a lamp burning in the bedroom, and only that dim glow and the illumination from the nearby streetlight kept the living room from being totally dark. The minute she dropped her shoulder bag on the sofa, Reed reached out and tugged on her cropped top. She lifted her arms and let him remove the garment. He tossed it on the floor and grasped both of her breasts. She groaned in response to the pressure of his big hands as his fingers dug into her flesh.
“Take it easy,” she told him.
His touch gentled immediately. His thumbs skimmed over her nipples. She sighed. Then he lowered his head and took one peak into his mouth and suckled. She tossed back her head and moaned with pleasure. He slid his hand between her legs and pushed upward until he reached his goal. After slipping his fingers inside her bikini panties, he rubbed her nub until she closed her legs and held his hand in place. He worked his fingers over her slippery folds and inserted them up and into her.
Reed’s movements were rough and crude. But she had to remember how long it had been since he’d been with a woman. The last time he’d made love, he’d been a kid, a teenager.
Ivy unzipped Reed’s jeans, reached inside, and slipped her hand under his briefs. He groaned deep in his throat when she encircled his shaft and withdrew him gently.
“God, Ivy, I can’t wait any longer.” He grabbed her and flung her onto the sofa.
She lifted her hips, jerked off her panties, and spread her legs. “Come on, big boy.”
“It’s been a long time for me. I’m out of practice.” He pulled a condom out of his pocket, ripped open the packet, and slid the rubber over his erect penis.
“It’s all right, honey,” she said. “I’ll be gentle with you.”
Her teasing laughter turned to gasping sighs when he thrust into her. God, he was big. Big and hard and pumping into her like a jackhammer. If he didn’t slow down, he’d be finished before—
A animalistic cry of completion moaned from deep within him as he climaxed. Convulsions of release racked his body.
He slumped over to her side, easing part of his weight off her. “I’m sorry. I know you didn’t come.”
“It’s all right,” she said, and meant it. She’d never seen a guy more in need.
“Give me another chance and I promise I’ll do it right next time.” He used his fingers to comfort and entice her. “What do you say?”
“Why don’t you stay all night?”
“I was hoping you’d say that.”
Ella arrived at her office promptly at eight o’clock. She liked to get in earlier, but when her father was in town, she stayed home to have breakfast with him. Ordinarily she grabbed a cup of coffee and a biscuit and ate on her drive from their home on East First Street to the courthouse in the center of the town square. Her mother seldom woke before ten, and then Viola usually served Carolyn breakfast in bed. So, this morning she’d had her father all to herself. There was no one she loved and admired more than Webb Porter, and she thought herself fortunate to be his daughter. Despite the fact that they didn’t share the same genes, they were remarkably alike. In her case, nurture definitely won out over nature. She was a true Porter in every sense of the word. Her father had told her so many times. The fact that they thought alike on so many issues and had similar traits and habits seemed to delight her father as much as it did her. They were as close as any parent and child could be. She knew without a doubt that she was the joy of Webb Porter’s life. There was nothing he wouldn’t do for her.
Ella laid her briefcase down atop her large antique oak desk. Her father had sat behind this very desk when he’d served as a circuit court judge, before his election to the U.S. Senate ten years ago. When she’d been elected last year, he had told her that she was carrying on a family tradition. Webb had been a local district attorney and then a judge. His father before him had been a congressman, and his grandfather the lieutenant governor.
After removing her jacket and hanging it over the back of her chair, Ella sat down in the tufted-backed oxblood leather swivel chair. Her mind instantly wandered back to something her father had said during breakfast.
“If that man contacts you, I want to know about it immediately,” Webb had told her. “He swore revenge against me, and I wouldn’t put it past him to come after you in order to hurt me.”
“Daddy, do you really think Reed Conway is a danger to our family?”
“I think he very well could be. If he’s bent on getting back at me, then it’s possible that he’ll go after the people I love. So I want you to promise me to be careful and notify me if he approaches you, either in person or with a phone call.”
Ella shivered. A sense of foreboding echoed inside her. Did she truly have something to worry about where Reed Conway was concerned? Was her father being overly cautious? Would Reed actually jeopardize his parole in order to seek revenge? If anything happened to a member of her family, Reed would be the first person the police would question. She really hadn’t known Reed, except to recognize him as Judy Blalock’s son. Judy Conway. After her second husband had been murdered, she’d legally changed her name back to Conway.
And of course, Ella had known Reed as the star of Spring Creek High’s football team. He’d been the guy every girl wanted and every parent feared. He’d had a reputation as a stud, and even when she’d been fifteen, she had understood why girls were drawn to him like moths to a flame. He’d been big and ruggedly good-looking and possessed a cocky smile that made you think he’d been up to no good. And from what she’d heard, he usually had been up to no good.
A knock on the door brought Ella back from her memories. “Yes?”
“It’s me, Miss Ella,” a gentle masculine voice said. “I’ve come to fix your lights.”
“Come on in, Roy.”
One of the flourescent light fixtures overhead had burned out yesterday and she’d had her secretary, Kelly, request a maintenance man to replace the bulb. Roy Moses, with a tool belt hanging below his jelly-belly tummy, just above his hips, entered the room carrying a ladder. He smiled and nodded, his squinty brown eyes, greeting her with his usual appreciative glance. Roy was a few years older than she, a bit slow-witted, and one of the sweetest guys she’d ever known. He wore his white-blond hair cropped short, which made his full face look perfectly round, like a pale pink ball.
“Good morning, Miss Ella. How are you today?”
“I’m fine, Roy. And you?”
“Fine as frog hair.” He chuckled, the sound a series of deep, slow haw-haw-haws.
“That’s good.” Ella had known Roy most of her life. He had a sister who was a nurse and a brother who was a fireman. Roy’s IQ score identified him as borderline retarded, but he was a hard worker who held down two part-time jobs. He wasn’t a member of the regular maintenance staff, but was employed as a part-time janitor who did odd jobs at the courthouse—a position Webb Porter had insisted be created for him. His other position was at Conway’s Garage, where he washed and waxed cars and did odd jobs.
“Don’t want to disturb you none,” Roy said as he set up the ladder beneath the fluorescent ceiling fixture.
“You aren’t disturbing me. Go ahead and do your job.”
“You look real pretty this morning, Miss Ella.”
“Thank you.” Every time he saw her, Roy told her how pretty she looked. She suspected he had an innocent crush on her.
“Did you hear the news?” Roy began climbing the ladder.
“What news