Turquoise Dreams Page 2

  Just as she knew she could reach no higher pleasure, his mouth suckled hard on one nipple. At the same time, his fingers rasped across the most aching knot within her, sending waves upon waves of pleasure spiraling upward to thicken her throat with a scream.

  Nita abruptly ripped herself from the daydream fantasy. Her body shook, trying to contain the erotic shocks still cresting within her. Oh, my God, she'd just about had a screaming orgasm right here in the diner, just like Meg Ryan's pretend one in When Harry Met Sally.

  But Nita's was real. Her nipples ached and throbbed against her bra. Her panties were damp under her jeans. She shifted in her seat even though she knew the heavy denim's seam wouldn't be able to relieve her any more than a Kegel exercise did.

  Dimly, the fantasy flashed back through Nita. What was it all about? She'd never been into the recreationist thing, dressing up in a different time period's clothing. She wasn't even crazy about Halloween costumes. These days she tended to wear an orange or black tee shirt with a cat or witch or Jack-o-lantern on it with her jeans.

  She'd never worn bloomers or a chemise in her life. She wasn't even quite positive where that cliff side was, and she sure as hell knew Call hadn't been her first lover, or any lover for that matter. He'd never even had his tongue in her mouth.

  Nita swallowed iced tea and wished it could cool her down. All she'd done was watch Call walk across the dusty parking lot and wham-oh! It was like she was in somebody else's body.

  And almost having a great orgasm. Damn.

  People greeted him with, “Afternoon, Call” and “Hey, Call."

  "Yes, the wedding's off,” Call's rough-timbered voice coolly addressed the question before anyone could ask. His words were music to her ears and slid through her body to add to the warm, sticky pool between her legs. “Figure out who won the damn kitty."

  Despite trying to make herself small and hide behind the Border Patrol officers, Nita knew it didn't matter. Call always knew exactly where she was.

  "Tea and pie,” he told the waitress as he sat in the booth beside Nita.

  "God damn it, Nita.” The cabochon turquoise in the ring on the third finger of his right hand gleamed like a sunlight sky. He tossed a diamond encrusted wedding band and an engagement ring onto the table in front of her. “I'm beginning to believe in the goddamned curse myself. What the hell's wrong with me?"

  "Not a thing and you know it, Call.” Nita looked straight into the eyes of the man she'd been in love with since she was thirteen.

  She shuddered with shock. The turquoise eyes of her fantasy lover didn't look at her from Call's face. Looking at her in puzzlement, with the eyes she'd known all her life, were Calder Calverton's soft, deer-brown eyes.

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  Chapter Two

  "What's the matter, Nita? You look like you've just seen a ghost.” The waitress set Call's pie and tea in front of him. “It's just old Call with his usual broken engagement. Hey, Call, honey, why don't you get engaged to me and gimme one of those big ole Tiffany diamond sets you keep buying?"

  "Because your husband would kill me."

  "Damn straight,” yelled her husband, the cook. The long-retired ex-Marine could still pass the Marine fitness test and made sure everyone in town knew it. “Leave the boy alone and come get these plates."

  "Thirty-five years old. A Phoenix prosecutor from whom defense lawyers flinch. And around here, I'm still ‘the boy.'” Call cut the peach pie with his fork. His arm brushed Nita's, and she forced herself not to lean against the solidly muscled arm covered in warm cotton that still exuded the slight scent of starch.

  Call simply contemplated the flakey crust and orange fruit at the end of the tines. He ate the bit then idly began to doodle interlocking circles and triangles in the pie juice, his elbow bumping hers. “What the hell am I gonna do, Nita?"

  Put your hand between my thighs.

  Ignoring the locals and tourists in the diner, the clatter of silverware against heavy institutional china, and the cat-calls of affection between the waitress and her cook-husband, Nita took Call's hand and placed it firmly on her crotch.

  No fool, Call began to rub her aching pussy. His fingers firmly stroked her mound, pressing the seam of her jeans into her cunt. Her woman juices flowed until she could smell herself.

  Her muscles melted at the relaxed heat flooding her body. She half closed her eyes, feeling like a cat being petted.

  Call's hand grew stronger. Her ultra-sensitized mons felt each finger while his thumb pressed hard on her zipper. She slid down until only the edge of her butt rested on the booth's plastic seat. She spread her legs wider to give Call's hand more room to work.

  Deftly, he flicked open the jeans’ button, then eased down the zipper. He slid his fingers over her bare skin to the top of her bikini panties.

  Nita closed her eyes when his fingers slipped under the panties’ elastic band and touched her curlies. His hand was probably cramping. Call wasn't complaining though, so Nita let go of the last of the strings holding her earthbound and gave herself up to the pure pleasure of his touch.

  His fingers rubbed strong and fast through her cream. They found her clitoris.

  Lightning bolts shot through her. She lost total control of her body. It arched and shuddered under Call's hand. Again and again the lightning flashed through her. Her throat swelled with a primeval scream.

  "Nita, what am I going to do?"

  Nita's second orgasm in less than five minutes once again dissolved just at the climax. She had to get a grip on these fantasies. A thick stickiness coated her panties. She squirmed in the seat and wondered if anyone could smell her over the frying hamburgers and hot grease cooking French fries and onion rings.

  She breathed shallowly to gain control of her panting while Call simply poked a piece of pie into his mouth and morosely chewed.

  To distract herself from the almost painful need, she flicked the diamond bands back toward Call and watched the brilliance flash in the afternoon sunlight. “What happened this time? Wouldn't sign the pre-nup?"

  "Is it too much to ask?” Call snapped a finger against the bands, sliding them back to Nita. “It's not like I asked her to sign for a settlement in a divorce."

  "No, kid.” Nita's older half-brother Diego, accompanied by a long-legged woman, slid into the booth on the other side of the table and grinned at Call. “Our ex-wives definitely got their fair share of the loot when they walked. But trying to persuade a woman in this day and time to actually accept the ‘until death do you part’ is unreal. Don't you agree, Angela?"

  Diego flashed his lady-killer grin at the woman who had sat beside him.

  Solemnly, she polished her glasses, put them back on, and said, “It's an interesting cultural phenomenon."

  "Angela, this is my half-sister, Juanita Ramirez Gonzalez. She and I have the same mother. And my half-brother, Calder Calverton."

  "Since you have the same last name, you must have the same father.” Angela said, her voice dry as dust.

  "Your insight is why you get the big university grants, Doctor,” Diego intoned, although a grin played on his lips and his eyes twinkled. “Call here is the latest victim of the Ramirez Woman's curse. Nita, Call, Angela here is a Doctor of Anthropology, which aptly qualifies her for a job saying ‘You want fries with that?’”

  Angela gave Diego a look that clearly said she was bored with the old joke.

  "Hey, I represent that remark,” the waitress said with a grin. “What do y'all want? Besides fries."

  Nita watched her half-brother automatically flirt with the waitress as he and Angela gave their orders. Like Nita, Diego had their mother's bronze skin and dark eyes. Like Call, Diego had inherited their father's smile and charm. Both Diego and Call had the solid flat slabs of cheeks that tapered to the strong Calverton jaw. Nita and Diego's sharp cheekbones came from the Apache who'd married a Ramirez generations ago. Call had the solid cheekbones from generations of American-Irish.

  Nita knoc
ked the glittering engagement ring across the table to Diego while she sent the wedding band skittering in Call's direction. Call sent the band to Angela while Diego flicked the engagement ring toward Call. The expensive game of table hockey continued until the waitress set pie and tea in front of Angela and Diego.

  Simultaneously, Diego and Call both shot the respective rings to the waitress. With the skill developed from years of sweeping tables clear of chump change tips, she scooped up the rings.

  "Score!” she yelled and held up the trophy rings to sparkle in the light from the ceiling fixtures.

  "Keep ‘em,” Call told her when she set them down at his plate.

  "Boy, I can't keep these rings. They're worth a bunch of money."

  Call dropped the rings into her apron pocket where she kept her tips. “Keep the damn rings."

  His voice softened at her dropped jaw. “Sell ‘em and use the money to send your kids to college. You can give me a slice of pie whenever I stop by."

  The waitress looked at Call then glanced at Diego.

  Diego shrugged. “If he wants you to take ‘em, take ‘em. Your pie's worth the diamonds."

  "It's not like he's going to use them for his next engagement,” Nita pointed out. “Somebody ought to get some value from them."

  "Well, uh, thanks."

  Nita thought she'd never seen a smile as beautiful as the one the waitress gave Call, until she saw the one the waitress gave her husband when she explained the rings to him. Her husband scooped her up, hugged her, and sent a thumbs-up thank-you in Call's direction. Nita could almost see a glow surround the two while they hugged behind the serving counter.

  She told herself she had no reason to be jealous. Some day she'd have that kind of love. Maybe. If she were real lucky.

  For now though, she needed to get out of here and have a meeting with her vibrator before she ripped off her clothes and sprawled across the table for Call's pleasure. That fantasy died almost as soon as the thought materialized. Not even in her mind could she visualize letting Call take her right here in the diner, with Diego in the same room.

  Diego not only had the Calverton's determination to want his own way, he had the Ramirez heritage of over-protecting females in the family. An annoying combination for someone stuck being Diego's sister. Nita's strongest memory of her teenage years was ducking out of Diego's sight with her dates. Her father didn't give the poor boys half the harassment Diego did. If he hadn't been off to college the year of her Senior Prom, she might have been the only virgin left in her graduating class.

  Good old-what's-his-name. Nita's mind went blank. What was that boy's name? Jeremy? Jerrold? Jeffrey? Something with a “J.” Not that it mattered. He'd relieved her of the worrisome fear of being the last virgin in school and had been sweet. She hoped he was happy. Wherever he was. Whoever he was.

  "Nita, yo, Nita. Come back."

  "Sorry.” Nita drank her refilled iced tea. “Um, I need to get back to work.” So she could find her vibrator and use it in the privacy of the backroom of her workshop. “Let me out."

  Call didn't move despite her elbow jab into his ribcage. He just cut pieces of pie into smaller and smaller bits. By now the interlocking circles and triangles had circled into a joined ring.

  "Naw, stay awhile. You can give Angela here the Ramirez Woman's viewpoint of The Curse of the Calvertons,” Diego said, his teeth gleaming in his dark skin.

  Call continued to mutilate his pie. “What's a nice, intelligent woman like you doing in Anthropology anyway? Talk about a useless profession."

  Amusement lit the serenity in Angela's eyes. “It's a great profession. I get paid to wander around, listen to folk tales, and meddle in family gossip and ancient tragedies."

  "And you're here to get to the truth of the Ramirez Woman's Curse?” Nita scowled at her.

  "No, I'd never heard of it until I walked in the diner with Diego and heard the buzz about Call's broken engagement. I came to hear the local versions of The Blue Stone River and The Mourner's Mountain. Diego tells me the Ramirez Woman's Curse is a side-bar to it."

  Call snorted. “Some side-bar. Hasn't been a Calverton in a hundred years to have a successful marriage. Our father had three marriages sour before he decided he couldn't afford any more. Diego there is divorced. I'm divorced."

  "God knows how many broken engagements,” Nita added.

  "Three,” Call said. “Suzanne, just now. Brooke two years ago. An ... An..."

  "Andrea?” Diego suggested.

  "Angela?” the anthropology professor asked.

  "Allison,” Nita said flatly. Yes, she was definitely glad she never came close to putting her tongue in Call's mouth. The man couldn't even remember his fiancées, much less the other women he'd been involved with.

  "Yeah, Allison, that's right. The blonde."

  Nita nearly choked on her iced tea. Call pounded her back.

  When she got her breath back, she said, “Allison was a redhead. Your ex-wife Jeanine was a blonde. So was Brooke."

  Call shook his sticky fork at Nita as though she were a naughty child. “Now, now. Neither Jeanine nor Brooke were natural blondes. Allison was."

  "Allison was a red-head."

  "Only on her head.” Call smirked at his pie. “Not where it mattered."

  Despite joining in Diego's and Angela's laughter, Nita felt a spasm of heat fissure through her yet again. She had to get over this full-blown obsession with Call. He was practically a brother to her.

  But he wasn't her brother, the horny part of her reminded. He was no relation to her at all. Her mother used to be married to his father, years before either she or Call was born. That he was Diego's brother and frequently spent time at her house when Diego stayed with Mom meant nothing.

  Her cunt throbbed while she watched Call lick peach juice off his fork. Her own juices flowed at the thought of Call licking her cream.

  In half a breath, Nita again catapulted into the fantasy of a mountain cave.

  Naked, she sat on a boulder and hugged her knees. He had placed their blanket on the rock so its grit wouldn't scratch her bottom. Somewhere in the cave, bats had a home. She could smell their dung.

  She wasn't quite sure what her lover wanted her to do, but she would wait.

  He had rigged the lantern so it hung above them, lighting the small cave. The flame flickered occasionally. Its light coated his naked body in bronze and cream. He folded a second blanket on the cave floor in front of where she sat. Gently, he tugged her arms until she released her grip on her knees. He pulled her knees apart.

  "Trust me?” His blue eyes gleamed in the lamplight.

  "Always."

  He kissed her mouth, giving her his full tongue, stroking and rubbing the inside until her muscles grew weak and her knees fell further apart. His tongue left her mouth and began to brush down her body. He suckled each breast until she cried out for him to put his manhood inside her or to at least touch her with his hands.

  He simply chuckled and continued his sweet torment. When his tongue left her breasts, he grazed his way down her stomach. She closed her eyes so as not to be distracted by anything but the exquisite damp mouth.

  She begged him to touch her. Between her thighs, she grew so wet the stickiness trickled down her bottom.

  Then she felt it. His tongue lapped across her, licking her moisture. Her eyes snapped open to see his dark head between her thighs. He sucked her wetness, then looked up at her.

  His eyes danced with enjoyment like sunlit water. His mouth, lips, and chin glistened as if coated with juice from fruit. He bent back to his enjoyment ... her delight.

  At first he gently stroked the tip of his tongue through her folds. Gradually, he used more and more of his tongue. Then he took the tight knot into his mouth and began to suckle.

  When she was alone and felt it with her own fingers, she had to muffle her pleasured screams to not awaken the family. Now she started to come apart. Her breathing rasped through her throat. She thrust her hips forwar
d, urging him to take her deeper, harder. He nipped her, just the slightest. Her breath caught in the back of her throat at the joyous pain.

  First one finger, then the second joined his tongue. They pushed in and pulled out with the same rhythm he might stroke her with his manhood. They didn't reach as far, but with his tongue lapping and his mouth suckling, the sensation became overwhelming. He pressed a thumb against her rear, making her being whirl at the different sensations.

  Her fists tangled in his hair, and she pushed his face deeper into her slit and clamped her thighs against his cheeks. Her muscles trembled. Her breathing grew more frantic, more labored, and echoed in the small cavern.

  "Come on, Nita, if it doesn't bother me and Diego to tell the Professor Doctor about The Ramirez Woman's Curse, why can't you? We're the ones affected. Us and the other Calverton men. You're not even a Calverton."

  Nita decided Call would die a horrible death. Death by Almost-Orgasm. And she'd be the one to carry it out. It would be her goal in life. She just needed to figure out how not to kill herself along the way.

  "Let me out.” Nita shoved Call with both hands. “I need to go to the ladies room."

  She turned the cold water on full blast. Unfortunately, the sink was too small for her to stick her head under it. She settled for splashing water on her cheeks and laying a wet paper towel against the back of her neck. When the roaring in her ears settled to a dull hum and her body slowed its erotic hunger, Nita relaxed. She just needed to stop panting, and she'd be all right. Then she'd head back to her studio and finish those pendants for shipment in the morning.

  After a nice long session with her vibrator.

  Damn it. She had to either stay out of Call's vicinity or seduce him and get him out of her system.

  And damned if her cunt didn't immediately vote to fuck him.