The Keeper (10 page)

"Oh, come on, Hank, you know
you weren't a one-woman man. You played the field big time," she laughed
good-naturedly. She could afford to be generous.

"Yeah, I guess I did."

"But the night I saw you chase
Nickie out of Nook's, I knew something was different for you. You never would
have chased another woman like that. You didn't need to."

He had the grace to keep silent.
They shuffled around in a circle.

"Nickie's pregnant." He
couldn't keep his smile down, white teeth gleaming against his tan.

"I guessed." She laughed
out loud. "God, you look pleased with yourself."

"Yeah."

"Nickie's good for you. You're
so in love with each other."

"Yeah," he mumbled.
"I love her. I can't believe I'm actually saying this out loud to another
human being."

"It's all right." She
patted his shoulder. He was taller than Pete, by a couple of inches, and she couldn't
believe she'd once thought they fit together perfectly. With Pete's height, it
was much easier to put her arms around his shoulders. Oh, she was so over Hank.
"Just love both of them."

"Pete's crazy about
you
."

She closed her eyes a moment,
savoring that possibility, fighting and failing to keep a smile off her face.
"I really hope so."

"I wish you everything good,
Sharon." Hank's voice took on a husky seriousness. "He's a great
guy."

"Yeah, I think so."

"Lousy dancer…"

They were still laughing when they
separated. "Congratulations, you two," she said to Hank. "Have a
wonderful honeymoon." She headed to the ladies' room, needing some alone
time, away from the crowd.
Lots to think about. Pete. Maybe a future with
Pete?
Maybe her luck was changing, and she had Hank and Nickie to thank for
that.

Leaving the ladies' room, she
decided she wasn't quite ready to return to the reception. She detoured to the
hotel bar, finding an empty stool at the end. This had been a gorgeous day, a
gorgeous wedding, and she wore a gorgeous dress. Oh, and she was with the most
gorgeous man alive. She closed her eyes and listened to the soft jazz strains
from the little group in the bar. Suddenly, strong arms enclosed her on each
side, large hands balancing on the bar. Silky lapels, and little shirt studs
imprinted on her back. Scented with the very lightest of colognes, warmed by
the heat of dancing, it all combined to create his personal Pete aroma.

"I've been looking for you,
darlin'." His whispered breath wafted over her shoulder. He dipped his
head and nipped at her ear.

She tipped back, to look at him
upside down. "Well, here I am."

He canted her head right side up
with a tap on her chin and, just for a second, brushed his lips gently over
hers. "Were you hiding?" Swiveling her stool around, he stepped close
to press his muscular thigh against her while he deepened the kiss,
lengthened
the kiss. She lost herself, clutched his lapel to keep her balance. It was a
balance problem more in her mind than body. There was no way she could
physically fall. He had hold of her.

Emotionally, she had already
fallen. How could she rein in the delicious, tender, hot, passionate feelings
he evoked in her? Did she want to? Did she need to? "No, I wasn't hiding.
Just taking a breather."

"Good, 'cause I don't want to
lose you," he murmured, taking her hand in his and bringing it to his
lips. "Thank you for trying to remind me about the rings. I don't even
want to tell you what I thought you were doing."

She turned her palm and caressed
his cheek, brushed her thumb across his lower lip. "I can just imagine
what you thought. The look on your face was priceless." She giggled
huskily, until he licked her thumb. He'd crowded out the person next to her and
appropriated the stool, pulling it closer, spreading his legs to slide in on
either side of hers. Heat radiated from him, filling her senses with him, with
his sweet passion. She gazed at his wonderful lips and whispered, "Kiss me
again."

He pumped his hips, pushing his
cock against her knees. "I plan to kiss you all over, baby," he
promised in his low, sexy growl.

"Excuse me, sir and madam. Why
don't you take this upstairs?"

She heard the bartender's
authoritative request through her sensual haze, but it took her a minute to
process it. Then her head whipped toward him, saw him looking at them over his
half-glasses. "Pete," she muttered. "We've gotta get out of
here. This is so embarrassing."

Pete bristled, tensed as if he was
going to argue, but she pressed her hand on his thigh, high up on his thigh, to
remind him of what they were doing. He paused, looked down at her hand, glanced
back up to her eyes, and got the message. He pulled out a couple of twenties,
slapped them on the bar, growled at the bartender, and swept her quickly away.

***

In the elevator on the way up to
the penthouse, he took the opposite corner.
Just like boxers.
Well,
maybe not fighters. He was being polite. Until they reached the room. Then
there'd be no rules. No restraint. No resistance. His chest hurt from the
stress of controlling himself. He'd almost embarrassed both of them in the bar,
humping her knees as he had. "I'm sorry about the bar," he offered in
a strangled voice.

"What?"

"Christ! Can't this crate move
any faster?" He looked frantically up to the controls, but there weren't
any floor markers. It was an express.
Then why isn't it expressing, damn it?
"Share, I'm sorry, but I'm trying to keep from fucking you right here in
the elevator."

Whoosh.
The doors opened
onto the foyer.

"Thank God." He swept her
up in his arms and marched toward the double doors to the bedroom. "I
don't want to ruin your dress, so I'm gonna get it off you right now.
Okay?" He put her down, turned her to unzip it, and slipped the pins out
of her hair to loosen it to fall on her shoulders. She turned back to him and
started working on his shirt studs.

"Wait," he said,
shrugging out of the tux jacket. He brushed the little straps off her
shoulders, and the whole dress slithered to the floor, draping on her sexy
sandals and over his big wing tips. "Christ."

The studs were gone, the shirt was
open. Her fingers stroked his chest. She massaged the muscles.

Heat rolled over his skin.

She pinched his nipples and
electric charges detonated, racing toward his cock.

Her bra, strapless and of some
shimmery, flesh-colored lace, rode low on her breasts, her nipples almost
popping out. He dragged a fingertip over the soft mounds. "Oh,
Sharon." He pressed an open-mouthed kiss on her rounded flesh, plumping
her up with his palms.

She whimpered, pushed her breasts
up into his face, and slid her fingers through his hair to cup his head.

He lavished wet kisses all over her
chest as his thumbs swiped over her velvety nipples, around in little circles,
pressing harder each time.

"Yes, oh yes, yes. Come
here," she ordered, pulling his head up.

He lifted his heavy eyelids,
craving more.

"Kiss me."

Their lips met, hard, his tongue
thrusting in, throat humming. He wrapped his arms around her, one hand bracing
the center of her back, the other curving down to caress her ass.
Bare ass.
Oh, Jesus.
He ate at her mouth and slid his hand—not the one on her ass, he
wasn't moving that lucky hand—to finish shaking the pins out of her hair.

She broke away, laughing a deep,
throaty sound that only inflamed him, and said, "God, you are so sexy.
Where's Little Willy? I want to make him big."

She pushed the shirt off his
shoulders, sank to her knees at his feet, and began working at his belt buckle
and zipper.

Oh, yeah, baby.
In no mood
to wait, he helped, shoving his pants and briefs down, toeing off his shoes,
yanking off his socks. Warm fingers smoothed up and around his legs. Her palms
ruffled the fine hairs on his thighs, braced the sides of his hips. She cupped
his ass, kneading and caressing, tracing those inquisitive fingers down the center.

He braced both feet wide to steady
himself and looked down over the solid plane of his belly. What he saw made him
sweat. The goddess that was Sharon Timmons knelt before him, the pillows of her
breasts mounded over the whispy bra, her dark hair contrasted against the
creamy glow of her skin. He was a god to her goddess, powerful and impressive.

His balls contracted, drawing into
his body. The heat of it, the suddenness, surprised him. He'd been more than
half hard all night. All day.
Thank God for long tux jackets.
Now he was
uncomfortably stiff, an almost painful pressure centered at the base of his
cock.

She kissed his thighs, letting her
hair brush over his dick, the light, fluttering sensations driving panting
groans out of him. The little witch was purposely teasing him. Purposely
not
touching him where he wanted it most. Christ, he was going to pay her back. As
soon as he could unlock his knees.

Her tongue.
The wet slide
across the head, like licking an ice cream cone. Delicate at first, then sloppy,
greedy.

"Yessss. Suck me, baby,"
he pleaded, not too proud to beg.

Chapter Fourteen

She shook her head, hair brushing
against his thighs. "I'm going to drive you insane first."

"Yeah, yeah, you are,
sweetheart," Pete growled. He arched, his head dropped back. When she
grasped him in her hot fist, he clutched her scalp. "Shit. I'm gonna get
you for this."

"Ooo, I'm scared." She
held him, licked the sides of his penis, dragged her tongue along the sensitive
vein underneath, and sucked at the ridge circling the head.

Everything but the main attraction.
His thigh muscles shook. He had little confidence his knees would hold.
"Share," he groaned her name, cupped the sides of her face, drew
fierce fingers through her hair. Insistent, demanding fingers.

She swiped her tongue base to tip.

"Yeah, baby," he
whispered, his fingers scrabbling, mussing up her hair.

"What, Petey? What do you
want? Tell me." Each word punctuated by suckling nips, a scrape of her
teeth around the ridge, over the sensitive tip.

A searing need stirred deep inside
his body. His balls ached, intensifying his desire. Desire to ram his cock into
her mouth, to be enfolded inside the hot, smooth recesses, to feel her tongue,
to feel her lips suckling him.

"Jesus, Share, take me in your
mouth. Suck. Me. Dry." His voice cracked on a whimper.

"You mean like this?" She
cradled his nuts in one palm, the other clutching an ass cheek.

He quickened. His muscles
tightened, hardened. Then,
Blessed God
, her mouth enclosed him.
God,
yes.
She pumped him with her lips. Her tongue did magical things. His brain
shut down.

"God damn," he moaned,
his teeth clenched. Bent double over her head, he came, his release exploding
in thick, furious jets. He clutched her head against his belly and panted until
some semblance of control returned.

A few minutes later Pete blew a
puff of air.
Or was it hours, or days?
A woman who swallowed. Oh, man,
was he the luckiest bastard in the world. God, he wanted to sleep. Curl up
around her. "Share love, come here." He wrapped his fingers around
her waist and pulled her upright against him, hot skin to hot skin. He kissed
her neck, brushed over her cheek, and finally found her lips.

She moaned and clung to him,
crooned his name, pressed her fingertips onto his spine. Her precious body
quivered in his arms.

"Honey, are you all
right?" He cupped her head and tipped it back, thumbs under her chin, to
meet his gaze.

She gave him a long blink and her
Cheshire cat smile. Women. They either liked giving blowjobs or they didn't, or
pretended to like it. Sharon always looked so satisfied, so smug. He owed her
like pleasure, and he loved to be in debt to her.

"Baby, you know I love
you."

She tensed.

It wasn't just the heat of the
moment. Beautiful, sweet, generous. What wasn't to love? He needed to show her
how precious she was to him.

***

Sharon wanted to die. Of course, he
loved her after she sucked his cock.
Don't ruin this. Don't lie to me.

She moaned as Pete flattened his
palm on her belly, flicking the elastic of the little scrap of lace covering
her mound. He slipped a finger past the material to stroke her cleft. Heat.
Sweat glazed her body.

"You're so wet." His
fingers delved into her, into her slippery, swollen flesh. They brushed the
sides of her clit. She forgot everything else.

"Yes, yes." Pumping her
hips against his hand, she wanted nothing more than for him to fill her. Wanted
his fingers inside her body. She bucked and cried out when he filled her up to
his palm, her clit's heart beating strongly.

She crooned his name in a low, throaty
growl.

"Come here, baby, I want to
taste you." Nudging her toward the bed, he bore her down across the thick
comforter. He pulled her toward him. His warm hands caressed her thighs and
determinedly spread them wide, balancing her heels on the edge of the mattress.

She couldn't keep her hips still.
He held her down, the restraint arousing in itself. His fair head dove in. His
lips circled her clit, tongue lapping rhythmically. "Oh God!" His
mouth was heaven, just the right amount of teeth scraping, of suckling, of his
tongue pressing the sensitive area right below her clit.
Sweep. Swish.
Swipe.
Around and around.

The harder she tried to pump, the
more tightly he held her hips. She threaded her fingers through his hair and in
a frenzy, hung on, pumping into his face. So close. She screamed his name.
Begged him to end it. Begged for more. Her pussy was open and hungry. She was
so close. "Holy God, don't stop!"