Girl on a Slay Ride Read Online Free Page A

out what it would have been like if Dad hadn’t come and taken me away. And hurry. Oh, darling, hurry!”
    Their isolation in the soft, warm dimness of the room gave Mallory a new awareness of her. He felt as if every nerve had been sandpapered. He pulled his hands from hers and touched her shoulders. She moved away from him jerkily. She reached up and snapped off the light switch.
    The draperies were drawn. The room was very dark.
    Mallory could barely see her. She stayed a few feet away from him.
    He said, “What the hell?”
    “I’m not teasing you,” she said huskily. “Give me just a minute.”
    “One minute,” Mallory said. His throat ached with dryness.
    She laughed softly. She moved. He stood still, following her by the soft rustling her clothing made. The rustling grew louder.
    She said suddenly, “Blink. I’m going to turn on a light.
    He blinked as the glow of lighting struck the ceiling and suffused the room. He found Denise at once.
    She stood by the bed. Her clothing made a white foamy puddle on the rug. She was nude except for her high-heeled, toeless shoes. Her bronze hair gleamed extravagantly in the soft light.
    He felt the full impact of the long, sleek legs, of the narrow waist curving down into rounded hips and rising toward bold, thrusting breasts. He had never seen her like this. But he had imagined her often. And she was so much more than his imagination had ever managed.
    He stepped toward her. Desire made her eyes heavy. Her face was swollen. Her mouth was ripe and red, the lips parted, sensually moist.
    The ache of wanting in him burst.
    He caught her rougly, digging his fingers into the smooth, pale skin of her shoulders. He bent his head and mashed his mouth violently over hers. He remembered the explosiveness of her in the car and he prepared himself for it again.
    Even so, the immediate, wild intensity of her response startled him. He lifted his head, momentarily afraid that he had hurt her.
    She stood in front of him with her head thrown back. He could see a fine blue vein running alongside her throat.
    He watched it throb. Her eyes were shut. Her lips fluttered with her breathing.
    She caught his wrist and pulled his hand down between her breasts. She dug her nails into the back of his hand, forcing his fingers down and over the sensuous roundness of one of her breasts. He could feel the rigid, hard pressure of her nipple against his palm.
    She lifted one of her hands away from his and caught him behind the head. She pulled his mouth demandingly back onto hers. The quick, moist heat of her tongue darted against his mouth, searing it. She pulled free. “Love me, Cliff. It’s been so long for me. So damned long!”
    Mallory was only vaguely aware of getting out of his clothes, of reaching for her, of throwing her violently onto the waiting bed.
    He leaned over to turn off the light.
    “No, darling, please. I want you to look at me. And I want to watch you—while you do it to me.”
    He pulled his hand back. Her wild vitality exploded against him with that frightening, exciting immediacy. She cried out, “Do it! Do it! Do it!”

Chapter IV
    M ALLORY watched Denise as she carefully ran lipstick over the curve of her mouth. “Ready for something to eat?’
    “I’m starved,” she said. She rose and started for the door. Mallory picked up the briefcase and followed her.
    She said, “Darling, you are an old maid in some ways. Who could know about those silly bonds?”
    “I know about them,” Mallory said. “Let me do my job my way.” He opened the door.
    She touched his hand. “Can’t I even make a little suggestion about
how
you do it?”
    Mallory said, “You’re a lewd woman.”
    “And you love it.”
    He helped her down the two steps to the sidewalk. “And I love it,” he admitted.
    The café was two blocks north of the motel. It was dose to midnight and the place was empty except for two truckdrivers who had their rigs parked in the gas station across the highway.