Frankenstein In Love Page 18

  “Where in hell are your scars?” Quinn finally asked.

  Kirk’s hand went up to his cheek, feeling the skin-like covering. With everything that had happened, he had completely forgotten about his face. “It’s a skin-tone synthetic. The doctor put it on.”

  “My God, it looks completely natural.”

  Elaine smiled. “Why, Kirk, that’s wonderful.”

  “Elaine, you work with the doctor, I thought you already knew about them.”

  “No. I knew the doctor was working on the idea with a friend of his, but I didn’t know they’d gotten this far. You’re the first person I’ve ever seen wear one. They’re completely new, not even on the market yet.”

  “But how do you wash, or shave?” Quinn asked.

  “It can be used more than once, and when you need to, you apply another.”

  “Progress, progress,” Quinn muttered.

  * * * *

  Tiffany lay in bed feeling very weak when her door cracked open and she saw someone peeking in from the other side.

  “Who is it?”

  Kirk swung the door open and came in. “How are you feeling?”

  She sat up. “Kirk, what happened? How did we get here?”

  “How do you think?” he said, dismissing the question as he sat down on the side of her bed. “I’ve been checking on you from time to time. Say, are you hungry or anything?”

  “No,” she said, and frowned. “Why is everything so quiet? Where is everyone?”

  “We’re all down in the study talking to Dr. Wilder. He came over to see how the synthetic was working.”

  “Do they know what happened?”

  “Yes, honey, I told them.”

  “Well, I guess they had to know.”

  “Tiffany, I had to tell them something. When I drove up, you were knocked out cold on the back seat of the car. I’m sorry if I let anything slip, it didn’t occur to me you might want it kept between us.”

  Her gaze widened with surprise. “You drove us home?”

  “Yes.”

  “Kirk. All that way? You drove us?”

  “Tiffany, I had to. The other options were unacceptable, so I had to do it or never be able to get behind the wheel of a car again.”

  She lunged forward and grabbed him around the neck. “Oh, Kirk, I’m so proud of you.”

  He pulled her away from him. “Tiffany, you’re getting worked up over nothing. Just lie there and rest. Tomorrow will be soon enough for you to get excited over a thirty-one-year-old man driving a car.”

  “Have I told you lately how wonderful I think you are?” She lay back and pulled him down over her, kissing his soft lips, and whispering against them, “I want you to make love to me.”

  “Tiffany, have you forgotten about your agent…?”

  All at once Tiffany began sobbing. “God, Kirk, why did you have to remind me?”

  “Because you have to face it. Work through it, and put it behind you.”

  “You sound like some stupid shrink.”

  “I’ve taken some psychology courses. I just don’t want it coming back to haunt you, and possibly doing some damage.”

  “I need you, Kirk, so much,” She whispered.

  “Hey, nothing would make me happier, but I’ve got to put a rein on it for tonight and think of your health.”

  “Do I have to get out my heavy artillery?” she said, cutting her gaze over to the blue lace nightie she had worn the night she went down to the basement.

  He smiled. “You little Jezebel. What else do you have in that den of iniquity you call a closet?”

  “Enough to make you sweat for a lifetime.”

  “My God, what have I gotten myself into?” he said as he kissed her deeply.

  She received his kiss with a moan, begging him not to stop.

  When Kirk finally pulled his lips away, she noticed the blatant interest in his eyes when he gazed down at her blouse and began unbuttoning it. As each button gave way, he kissed, and licked the exposed skin, and laid the blouse aside, exposing her lacy bra. She could feel him reaching beneath her for the clasp of her bra, and she closed her eyes, feeling the excitement of his hot breath on her neck. She thrilled when she felt him release the clasp and pull it off. The bloom of her unconfined breasts drew Kirk’s hands, and she felt him caress their lush firmness for a moment, followed by his tongue tweaking her nipples teasingly, making them as hard as diamonds. While his mouth drew on her breasts, he lifted her up and undressed her, releasing her garter belt strap by strap until he got to her lace bikini panties. Taking the role of a mad rogue, he boldly took the thin lace material in his teeth, roughly grasped the cloth, and brutally ripped and tore until she was revealed to him.

  Tiffany’s heart was thundering so loud, she half expected lightning to strike her at any moment. Anticipation filled her as she watched him with heavy-lidded eyes, and felt him spread her legs apart, and begin to lick and draw on the inside of her thighs. She squirmed, feeling the play of his tongue as he made his way up to her pussy. His strong tongue finally invaded her, and she cried, “Oh, God, Kirk!” She began to writhe and moan with such pleasure that she reached down and buried her hands in his thick, long hair, pulling him even harder against her.

  As if they had a mind of their own, her hips rolled while his tongue probed inside her. She could hear a sucking sound as if he were drinking her, and his flickering tongue began a wild erotic movement causing her to cry out. Her arms flailed out on the sides of the bed, grasping the covers until she almost ripped them, but she couldn’t be still. The bed squeaked with her wild movements, but his tongue continued to unmercifully probe deeper and deeper into her. All at once she saw stars while a delicious hot spasm of delight spread through her groin. Languishing in the delicious warmth, she watched with surprise as he jumped up and began tearing at his clothes.

  All at once he fell on her, pulling her to him. His hands fondled her breasts for a time, and his mouth found her ear and his tongue probed inside, teasing her wickedly. She began bucking and moaning until she thought she was going to die. He buried his face between her breasts, and forced her legs open, teasingly rubbing his engorged cock along her pussy.

  Tiffany lifted her legs, urging Kirk to bury himself inside her. Finally, as he delved deeply into her cunt, the fury of his thrusts sent Tiffany into a wild, writhing motion, pushing against him as he plunged himself deeper and deeper into her moist softness. His hands cradled her buttocks as he pulled her up, taking her with him, deeper and deeper into his wild world of ecstasy. They both held each other tightly until Kirk began drawing and biting Tiffany’s nipples. Tiffany winced, but the pain seemed to be part of the pleasure. When the blossom of orgasm hit them, he jerked like a violent whiplash as she shattered around him.

  As Kirk slumped over her, Tiffany noticed the telltale blood beneath her nails. She knew if this continued it wouldn’t be long before Kirk’s back had more scars than his face.

  * * * *

  Quinn stood outside Tiffany’s door, listening to the maddening sounds of passion until he thought he was going to explode. He paced, his fingers first splaying and, then gripping as they hung at his side. “The damn bed is going to fall down,” he muttered, the sound continuing to grate at him. When he couldn’t stand it any longer, he flung the door open and stared furiously at them both. They lay there naked and sated, looking like two illicit lovers caught in the act. Tiffany cringed against Kirk, pulling the cover up over her.

  Quinn hated the sight of Tiffany in Kirk’s arms. The two clung to each other intimately, and if Quinn hadn’t known they were lovers, he could have guessed. The telling picture of the mussed bed and its satisfied occupants made his nostrils flare in anger. His gaze lowered, seeing a piece of ruined white material that had apparently been ripped from Tiffany’s body, and sauntered over toward it. “What happened here, Kirk?” he asked as he lifted it with one finger. “Couldn’t you wait for the poor girl to get undressed?�
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  Pulling on his trousers, Kirk said, “Get out of here, Quinn. We have nothing to be ashamed of. Tiffany and I are engaged to be married, and I don’t appreciate you barging in this way!”

  “Oh? When?”

  Kirk frowned at him. “What?”

  “When’s the wedding?”

  “We haven’t set a date yet, but it’s up to Tiffany. I’m ready anytime.”

  Quinn snickered as he indicated toward the shredded cloth. “Apparently. Better make it soon, Tiffany, or he’ll wear you out before the wedding.”

  Kirk crossed the room, grabbed Quinn’s collar and shouted, “When you come into this room, creep, leave your filthy mouth outside!”

  “She’s not yours, yet, Frankenstein, and if I have anything to do with it, she never will be!” He took the ravaged piece of lace, deposited it into Kirk’s hand, and said, “Here, add this to your collection. I’m sure by now you must owe the poor girl any number of…what are they called…panties?”

  Kirk yanked the panties away from Quinn. “Keep your filthy hands off Tiffany’s things. They’re nothing to you, and they never will be.”

  Kirk turned away, and Quinn saw his bleeding back. “What the hell is this?” he said, touching a finger to one of the scars. “A scene from one of her novels? The hero tears the lady’s clothes off and makes mad, passionate love to her?” He snickered at the blood on his fingers. “Oh, this is good,” he said to Tiffany. “A little blood always makes it more interesting.” Casting Kirk a sarcastic look, he said, “What are you doing, Kirk? Trying to impress the lady? Trying to live up to the men in her novels?” Shifting his gaze toward Tiffany, he smirked. “Well, how did he do, Tiffany? Did he make the grade? Did he take you to the Land of Ooh La La? Did he make your eyeballs sweat? Well, you’ve had your fun, madam. You’ve played around with the poor pitiful creature in the basement long enough. Now maybe you’re ready to quit fooling around and take on a real man.”

  Tiffany, tired of Quinn’s digs glared at him while she pulled herself up on her knees. With the sheet barely covering her curvaceous body she lifted one hand and pushed it into her thick, mussed up hair like an old-time femme fatale and gazed at him through heavy-lidded eyes. “You’re so right, Quinn,” she said with a sexy, guttural voice. “I’m ready for a real man.” All at once she abandoned the sexy pose and stared up at him with wide-eyed innocence, and said, “So tell me…do you know any?”

  When Kirk let out a loud snicker, Quinn turned and angrily slammed out of the room. He heard Kirk and Tiffany laughing at him all the way down the hall. When he got to his room, he went directly to a drawer in his chest and carefully dug beneath a neat pile of underwear. At last winding his fingers around a smooth object, a delicately carved white-handled knife came into view. He placed it in his palm and stroked it for a moment, handling it very carefully. As he turned it over, it flashed in the light. It felt good in his hand. Feeling a rush of anger he turned and made an expert throw. It landed right in the middle of a family portrait, rocking gently in the chest of—Kirk!

  Chapter 17

  AFTER a sleepless night, Tiffany walked out of the mansion just before darkness began fading into dawn. She trudged up to Cat’s Paw and stood on the edge of the little bluff overlooking the dark ocean waves as they lapped angrily against the old lighthouse. She stood there against the brightening sky, the wind whipping her hair around wildly. Her curious gaze wandered down at the base of the tower, and narrowed on the familiar window and saw cold darkness where a warm candle usually glowed. Her thoughts went back to the night Quinn had met her on this rise—to the day in his study—and to the day in her room when he’d attacked her. Like the screaming wind, the words whirled around her head, blowing—coiling—twisting—

  See the lighthouse in the distance? That’s where the old widow lives. Never go over there, she’s a witch—a witch—a witch! Lady, I’ve been controlling you since I first knew you were on the planet—the widow’s a very powerful woman.

  All at once the dark candle burst into flame, and a face beyond the blaze gazed up at her and lingered, the dancing flame casting undulating shadows into the deep hollows of her ragged old face. Tiffany blinked against the spewing surf, and all at once the face was gone, retreating into the eerie darkness. She stood there, thinking about the nightmare of the last few days. Since the moment Quinn had found her and Kirk in bed, he had grown steadily worse. Every chance he got, he tried to poison Kirk’s mind against her, but so far Kirk had remained strong. When Kirk wouldn’t listen, he cornered her and ridiculed their relationship, spewing out threats by the dozen.

  She knew his habit of going to the widow, and lived in fear that his threats would come to pass. He had done a good job of terrorizing her. She couldn’t eat or drink without being afraid it was laced with something the old widow had given him. She had become suspicious of every plate and teacup that was placed in front of her. She found herself pushing her plate away if after only one bite she tasted something different than what she was used to. The end came one night at dinner.

  “What is this?” Tiffany asked, frowning down at the food in her plate as if it were alive.

  “Meat loaf,” Elaine replied, smiling impishly. “I got tired of the same old recipe, so I tried something new. It’s a little different, but I bet you’ll like it. I went crazy with fresh herbs—” Elaine’s gaze widened when she saw Tiffany jump up from the table with her hand over her mouth.

  Later, with a sick look on her face, Tiffany apologized to Elaine. The sweet, thoughtful Elaine expressed worry that Tiffany’s picky eating habits might be the result of needing more rest and recuperation from the traumatic situation with her agent’s suicide. Tiffany accepted her view without argument, although she knew it wasn’t that, it was Quinn, and no one could help her with him—except the witch. That’s when she knew what she had to do—and decided to fight fire with fire.

  Now, gathering her courage, she turned and ran down the slope and plodded across the sandy beach, coming closer and closer to the old eyesore that had stood for many years against the pounding surf. The dim morning light cloaked the shabbiness of the sentinel-like structure, making it hard to see the peeling paint and the prominent water line. The air blew cool and moist against Tiffany, and the desolation that stretched out into the morning darkness was filled with the distant lapping of the ocean. It was a cold, lonely sound that echoed, wave upon wave, chilling the very soul. As Tiffany neared the tower, she trudged up to the door, and with some hesitation, knocked timidly. In only moments the door squeaked open. Tiffany saw nothing at first, but after that the old woman’s wrinkled face peered around it. “Come in, my dear. I’ve been expecting you.”

  A prickling of fear coursed through Tiffany at the old woman’s words. “M-my na-name is Tiffany Lovelace, and I’ve come—”

  “No formalities are necessary. I know who you are, and why you’re here.”

  Tiffany’s gaze darted nervously around the room, trying to stifle her fear of the small dark space. “How could you? I don’t even know why I’m here.” She looked back at the widow. “I just…I can’t believe in all this…this—”

  “Apparently you do. Otherwise, why would you come?”

  “Because it’s the only way to fight…” She stopped abruptly, a sense of defeat lowering her voice. “I have no other choice.”

  The widow’s sagacious gaze watched Tiffany while she indicated to the couch in front of the fire. “Sit down, my dear, and warm yourself.”

  “I’m a guest at the mansion…” Tiffany stopped, and cast her an uncertain smile. “I guess I can’t tell you anything you don’t already know.”

  “It’s all right, dear, please go on.”

  Tiffany looked upward, feeling a chill at the large, grotesque shadows the leaping flames painted along the walls. “It took me a long time to work up the courage to visit you.” Tiffany’s nervous fingers began pulling at the threads of the thick sweater she wore. “I’ve watched y
ou from the windows of the mansion time and again…wondering.” She hesitated, a turmoil building inside her until all at once a deluge of tears streamed down her cheeks. “I’m scared,” she whispered. “I love Kirk, and I’m afraid…” She sniffed, blotting her face with the sleeves of her sweater that almost hid her hands. “I’m afraid…”

  The old widow laid her scrawny hands over Tiffany’s nervous ones. “You’re afraid he’ll be taken from you.”

  “It’s taken so much to get Kirk where he is now,” she explained. “I can’t let Quinn destroy that, even if I never have Kirk, I want him to have a life.” She began sobbing into her hands. “I can’t fight Quinn. If he was normal…sane…” Her pleading eyes looked up at the widow. “He doesn’t fight fair. Quinn is the kind of man…well, he’s ruthless. He doesn’t care who he destroys to get what he wants.”

  “I know what Quinn is.”

  “He’s tried everything to tear Kirk and me apart, the latest being Venita.”

  The widow’s head jerked up, her gaze sparkling with venom. “What about Venita?”

  Tiffany shrugged. “Well…they’re having an affair. He doesn’t care about the girl, he’s just using her like he uses everybody. He started using her to try and make me jealous. He found—”

  “What?” The widow hissed. “He’s doing what?”

  “He and Venita are sleeping to—” Her words stopped when she realized the widow didn’t know. “My God, you didn’t know?”

  “Of course I didn’t know.”

  “You mean with all of your mumbo jumbo, spells, and potions, you don’t even know what’s going on right under your nose?”

  “A witch cannot hex themselves,” the old woman explained. “When…whenever I need something for myself I…I have to seek out another witch.”