Always an Eaton: Sweet Dreams

“No!”

Preston fastened his mouth to the side of her neck. “Why not?”

Chandra shivered slightly when Preston increased the pressure along the column of her neck. A slight gasp escaped her parted lips with the growing hardness pressing against her hips. It took Herculean strength not to move back to experience the full impact of Preston’s erection.

“What are you doing, Preston?” Chandra questioned, not recognizing the strangled voice as her own.

Closing his eyes while swallowing a groan, Preston tried to think about any and everything except the soft crush of Chandra’s buttocks pressed intimately to his groin.

“I’m committing your scent to memory.”

Chandra closed her eyes. “I’m not talking about you nibbling on my neck.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Pascual would never hump Josette.”

“I’m not humping you, baby. This is humping.” Preston gyrated back and forth, pushing his erection against her hips.

Waves of desire swept over Chandra like a desert sirocco, stealing the breath from her lungs and stopping her heart for several seconds. The sensations holding her in an erotic grip were similar to what she’d experienced in her dreams. Her breasts were heavy, the area between her thighs moist and throbbing with a need that screamed silently to be assuaged.

The man who came to her in her dreams was a fantasy, a nameless, faceless specter she’d conjured up from the recesses of her overactive imagination, but Preston Tucker was real, as real as his heat and arousal.

“Please don’t move.” Chandra was pleading with him, but she was past caring, because if he didn’t stop then she would beg him to make love to her. It was one thing to fantasize about making love with a faceless specter and another to have an actual live, red-blooded man simulating making love to her.

Preston went still, but there was little he could do to still the pulsing sensations in his groin. He didn’t know what it was about Chandra Eaton that had him so lacking in self-control. He’d wanted to rationalize and tell himself it was because of her erotic dreams, but he would be lying to himself. He’d told Chandra that he liked her. The truth was he liked her and wanted her in his bed; however the notion of sleeping with Chandra was shocking and totally unexpected.

“What were we talking about before you decided to hump me, Preston?”

The soft, dulcet voice broke into his reverie. “We were talking about your dreams.”

“Even before that,” Chandra said in an attempt to change the topic. Preston had asked what she’d dreamed about, and how could she tell him that her dreams were all about sex, that they were continuous frames of R-and X-rated films with her in the leading role.

“We were discussing Josette’s father.”

“Will he have legitimate children?”

Wrapping an arm around Chandra’s waist, Preston shifted her to a more comfortable position. His erection had gone down and her body was more relaxed, pliant. “No. His wife gave him a daughter, but she died from a fever before she turned two. Since then she has had several miscarriages, thereby leaving him without a legitimate heir.”

“Is Etienne Fouché wealthy?”

“Very,” Preston confirmed. “He’d bought out a neighboring planter and is now the owner of the largest sugarcane plantation in St. Bernard parish.”

“How is Etienne’s relationship with his wife?” Chandra asked.

“They’re cordial. Theirs is a marriage of convenience. Madame Fouché is what one could call homely, so her father offered Etienne a sizable dowry to marry his daughter. Madame Fouché, who has an aversion to sex, is overjoyed when her doctor tells her that her husband must not share her bed again. She spends most of her free time entertaining the wives of other planters and/or spending the summers in Europe to escape the heat and fevers that claim thousands of lives each year.”

Sitting up straighter, Chandra turned to stare up at Preston. “You’ve made Etienne a gentleman farmer who derives his wealth from slaves who grow and process white gold.”

“The geographic location and family background are key elements of the backstory. I could’ve easily made him a professional gambler, but how would that work for Josette and her mother? A gambler who could win or lose a fortune with the turn of a single card. And if he found himself without funds, then he would use their home as collateral. I know you don’t want to touch on the slavery issue, but remember we’re dealing with free people of color.

“As the writer I’m totally absorbed in the lives of the characters until the play is completed. Then it becomes the director’s responsibility to get his actors to bring them to life on stage.”

Chandra swiveled enough so that she was practically facing Preston. “Do you know who you want to direct Death’s Kiss?” A smile softened his mouth, bringing her gaze to linger on the outline of his sensual lower lip. “What are you smiling about?”

“I’m going to write, direct and produce Death’s Kiss.”

“Total control,” she whispered under her breath.

Preston’s eyebrows lifted. “Do you have a problem with my decision, C.E.?”

Silence filled the room as Chandra boldly met his eyes. Missing was the warmth that lurked there only moments before. “It’s your play, Preston, so you can do whatever you want with it.”

“It’s not only my play, Chandra.”

“Who else does it belong to, if not you, Preston.”

“Pascual is your character.”

“And Death’s Kiss is your play,” she countered. Chandra pushed to her feet. “I’m going to head home now. Based on what you’ve told me about Etienne and Josette, I’m going to have to revise my first impression of Pascual.”

Preston knew Chandra was smarting about his decision to write, direct and produce the play. What she didn’t understand was that he knew his characters better than anyone, and he hadn’t wanted to explain their motivation to a tyrannical director who insisted on having his way. He’d lost count of the number of times he’d had to bite his tongue so as not to lose his financial backing.

He moved off the chaise. “Don’t stress yourself too much. It will probably be another month before we flesh out the entire cast of characters.”

Nodding, Chandra turned and walked out of the office. “I’ll see you tomorrow at two.”

“I’ll be downstairs.”

She entered the kitchen, pushing her feet into her shoes before reaching for her suit jacket. “Dress is casual.”

Resting his hands on her shoulders, Preston turned Chandra around to face him. “Thank you for coming. I really enjoyed your company.”

Chandra was momentarily shocked into speechlessness. Preston thanking her for her company spoke volumes. Despite his brilliance, fame, awards and financial success, Preston J. Tucker was a private and a lonely man.

A hint of a smile parted her lips when she stared into his fathomless dark eyes. “Thank you for inviting me.”

Preston didn’t want Chandra to leave, but he didn’t want to embarrass himself and communicate that to her. “I’ll call the driver and have him bring the car around.”

Going on tiptoe, Chandra touched her lips to his. “Thank you.”

They shared a smile as she slipped her hand into his. They were still holding hands during the elevator ride to the building lobby and out onto the sidewalk where the driver stood with the rear door open.

She slid onto the rear seat and waved to Preston. He returned her wave before the driver closed the door and rounded the Town Car to take his place behind the wheel.

Chandra turned to stare over her shoulder out the back window to find Preston standing on the sidewalk. His image grew smaller and smaller then disappeared from view when the driver turned the corner.

A knowing smile softened her mouth when she shifted again. I like him. “I like him,” she repeated under her breath, as if saying it aloud would make it more real.