Fresh Disasters (Stone Barrington 13)

“You get to do the dishes,” she said, putting a last bite into her mouth and taking a sip of the wine.

“My housekeeper gets to do that in the morning,” Stone said.

“Does she serve breakfast in bed?” Celia asked.

“She does, on request.”

Celia smiled at him. “Good,” she said. “But first, we have to find the bed.”

Stone showed her where it was.

18

The night passed in a fog of champagne and mad love, with mouths employed voraciously and plenty of good, straight sex: sitting, standing, kneeling and reclining. Stone woke, exhausted, with a hand on his penis, and to his alarm, it was responding yet again.

“This time I’ll die,” he said.

“There are worse ways to go,” she replied, then used her tongue to help her hand. She threw a leg over him and settled down, guiding him in.

Stone emitted a pitifully gratified noise.

“Why didn’t they print the pictures?” she asked offhandedly.

“Huh?”

“I saw the mention of Bernie and Marilyn on Page Six, but they didn’t use the photographs. Why?”

Stone stopped helping, but Celia continued to slowly move up and down on him. “What?”

“Oh, come on, Stone. Don’t be coy. When I told you about the penthouse exhibitionism I expected you to use the information, but didn’t you give the Post the pictures your man took?”

“You flabbergast me,” Stone said.

“It doesn’t seem to be affecting your erection,” she said, giggling.

“How on earth do you know…what you think you know?”

“Didn’t you used to be a detective?”

“Yes, but…”

“Then figure it out.”

Stone thought for a minute. “Okay, you got me. I can’t figure it out.”

“I’m living, temporarily, in the building directly across the street from Marilyn, and the doorman, Tim, is my buddy. He saw the piece in the Post, too, and he told me about the man with all the cameras on the roof.”

“I’m relieved to hear that,” Stone said, “because I had begun to think that you were some sort of psychic.”

“Oh, I’m pretty psychic, too; how do you think I knew you would use the information I gave you?”

Stone began to help with the sex again. “I think I’m just going to stop thinking, at least when you’re around.”

“Well, you’ve been thinking with your cock all night, and that’s all right with me. You don’t need a brain to make me happy in bed.”

“Then you’ve come to the right place,” Stone said.

“You didn’t answer my question.”