The Keeper (11 page)

His mouth, hot and secure, stayed.
Stayed firm, gently moving, riding her out over the crest.

He stayed until her cries became
whimpers, until whimpers became moans.

"Sweet, sweet, Sharon,"
he growled, rising over her, scootching her toward the pillows. Then he thrust
inside her, straight to the balls.

"Oh, Pete." She lost her
breath. Filled fully and completely with him, it was an assault on her senses,
on all her little nerve endings. The pleasure caught in her throat, raced her
heart, and stopped her mind. Clutching his hips, fingers digging into hard
muscle, she used his body to balance herself, to counter his thrusts.

Over her, he huffed and puffed like
a racehorse beating down the track to the finish line. He dipped his head,
caught her gaze. He paused, held himself suspended, his eyes glowing hot and
sensual, possessive. Possessive for her.

"Share."

She read his lips more than heard
his voice.

"Come for me." He kissed
her. No finesse. Just teeth, lips, and tongue.

She tasted herself on his mouth.
Wanted to get inside him, to surround him, become one with him.

He swiveled his hips, thrusting
repeatedly as if he would never stop.

She climaxed, screaming,
frantically bucking into him, and twisting her hips in counterpoint.
I love
you.
God, she almost said it aloud.

***

Sunday morning, after a big
breakfast at the hotel, Pete told her he had a surprise. A twenty-minute drive
later, they parked in a north side neighborhood. Sharon hugged her arms against
what she'd always heard was the typical Chicago wind, then instantly flushed
hot. They stood right in front of a…sex shop. "Oh. Pete?" She gazed
at him questioningly.

His eyes had that teasing sparkle,
and his lips quirked up in his patented sexy smile. He tipped his head toward
the store and pulled her into his arms. "Are you game?" he
challenged.

She hadn't seen this coming, but
she shouldn't be all that surprised. He was a man, after all.

"Don't worry, honey. Nothing
heavy duty like whips and chains," he whispered into her ear. "Just a
toy or two, okay?"

His arms around her, his heated
breath against her skin always made her feel safe. He wouldn't hurt her.
Physically, that is. No. They'd become so close this weekend. Crossed over a
bridge. He'd said he loved her. Could it be real? Smiling up at him because it
wasn't like she could help it—he looked so adorable and devilish and
irresistible—she asked, "So what do you have in mind, big guy?"

Holding her tightly and pressing
his aroused cock against her belly, he responded, "How about two things
apiece? Two things we'd like to do to each other."

"Do we get a veto?"

"I don't think you'll need
one," he replied with confidence.

"What about you? What if I
pick out something too weird for you?"

Dark, hot lights danced in his
eyes, a look of uncertainty mixed with curiosity, maybe. He held her serious
gaze and licked his lips. "Okay, one veto."

Her eyebrows shot up. Hmm. Images
shot through her mind, of him tied to the bed and of her inserting a butt plug
in his ass. Not that she'd had any experience with one, but she had read a few
novels.

As if he read her mind, he said,
"Right now I'm vetoing what you're thinking about."

His husky murmur made her laugh.
"You don't know what I'm thinking."

"Oh, I can read that
calculating look on your face. You're thinking of something uncomfortable and
embarrassing for me, aren't you?"

"Have you ever? How do you
know it would be uncomfortable?"

"I'm a guy. A straight
guy."

Chapter Fifteen

"Yeah." Her eyelids
drifted to half-mast. "I'm aware of that." She rested her lips on his
and sipped gently.

He took control of the kiss, his
lips sensuously massaging hers.

"Take it inside the store!"
An elderly woman toddled by them muttering loudly enough for them to hear.

Sharon broke the kiss and chuckled
quietly. "I think there's our cue."

Pete opened the door for her.
"One veto."

She burst out laughing. "Now
who's the nervous one?"

Wow.
The Pleasure Trove
was
huge, bright, and clean. Not at all what she expected. All very upscale. It
didn't look like dirty old men in trench coats hung out there. Up front was
clothing, if you could call undies with cut out crotches and nipples clothing.
Bustiers in leather, satin, black, red, and even some other colors, like those
she'd find in Victoria's Secret. Feather boas. Then there was the more
hard-core stuff. Dominatrix whips, hoods, and high-heeled boots.

Shelves held scented oils and
candles, boxes of games. Pete had already moved on further back, to the long
counters. She wandered in that direction.
Holy Toledo!
Display cases
filled with dildos and vibrators of every conceivable kind and lots she'd never
ever
imagined. Her eyes widened. All arranged on shelves along the walls
too.

A store clerk was dealing with
another customer. Several vibrators were lined up on the counter as they
discussed their merits and compared them as if they were talking about…gloves
or…umbrellas. She had always bought mail order vibrators, because she couldn't
imagine buying one in person. Apparently, not everyone had that problem.

Where's Pete?
She rolled her
eyes when she spotted him in the back of the store, in front of the magazine
display. Wouldn't you know it?
Yeah, he's a guy.

Looking hunky and gorgeous, he
leafed through magazines, putting one back before he moved on to another. She
kept an eye on him as she rounded the counter to the other side. She almost
lost her breath. Big, long, colorful glass dildos. Biting her lip at the
thought of one of those big boys sliding inside her, she wondered about a
smooth surface compared to ridges and beads. She supposed it depended on the
fantasy...or on the man wielding the toy.

She made her purchases and returned
to the clothing racks to browse while watching Pete purchase his items. He kept
his back to her, thereby hiding his booty. If his was anything like hers…

***

Sharon dozed part of the way back
to Parkersburg. She offered to drive at the half way point, but Pete winked and
said he wasn't tired. Thoughts of her purchases kept her on the edge of
arousal, and she wondered if they'd get to them tonight. One of hers was fairly
tame, but the other was freaky. She shifted in the seat as her pussy pulsed,
and she tightened her lips so a moan wouldn't betray her anticipation.

Her stomach took a nosedive when
they approached her house. A car sat at the curb.
Shit. Why is he here?
The last person on earth she wanted to see was her father.

"Well, looks like you have
company," Pete observed.

"Shit," she murmured
under her breath.

"Do you want me to get rid of
him, then we'll go to my place?"

She absolutely did not want to
involve Pete in this sordid mess of a family of hers. Why was her father here
to ruin all her good feelings from the weekend with Pete and the wedding?
Resigning herself to another confrontation, she said to Pete, "Let me
handle it. You go on home. I'll call you later."

"I don't like leaving
you."

She closed her eyes in heartache.
"No, I want you to go. I can handle this."
God, please go, Pete.

After promising to come over later,
at least call, she longingly watched him drive away, took a deep breath, and
invited the man inside.

***

Alan Timmons plunked himself down
in a chair, crossed one leg over the other knee, and jiggled it like an addict
in withdrawal. Oh, great.

"Your mother and I are getting
back together."

Sharon closed her eyes. Had she
heard correctly? "Why?" she asked, her inflection flat. She didn't
want to become emotional. "After all these years, you want to come
back?"

"I told your mother you
wouldn't like it," Alan said. "If she can forgive me, why can't
you?"

Why indeed?
She needed to
get away. Just for a minute. Rounding the corner into the kitchen, she braced
her fists on the counter and took deep breaths. Alan sounded unsure and
nervous.

She couldn't let go of the anger at
his disappearance so many years ago. Hurt, humiliation, confusion, self-blame.
The adult Sharon didn't believe she was the cause of his leaving, but the child
Sharon had. For so many years, it had been her fall back fixation. She wasn't
worthy of a father's love. Why would she be worthy of any man's love?

Her heart in turmoil, she put all
thought of Pete out of her mind. She had to do something about the man in her
living room. "What do you want me to do?" she growled.

"Sharon, you always were
hard-minded. Even as a little girl."

Oh, God, it was starting again. Her
insides quivered. His criticism hurt as much now as it did then.

"Yeah," he said.
"You never had a bit of sympathy for someone making a mistake."

"Okay, stop right there."
Sharon finally found her voice. "I'm not going to take any blame for the
past. I wasn't the one who didn't have the guts to stick it out. I'm not the
one who ran away. You left with no warning, no word. Mother didn't explain
anything, didn't act like she cared how I felt or what I did. She brought men
into the house. I didn't like them. I didn't feel like it was my home any
more."

He crossed his arms, put on a
mutinous expression.

"I had to escape," she
muttered bitterly.

"Did one of them ever touch
you?" he asked, with a bit of trepidation at what the truth might be.

She felt as if a weight were
pushing on her chest. She didn't want to remember this. Shaking hands matched
shaking insides. "One did," she said in a soft voice. "I kicked
him."

"Damn it!" Alan blurted.

"Don't act like you care now.
Did you think I was so fat no one would bother me?"

He opened then closed his mouth.

"I grew up thinking I didn't
deserve any love." She shook her head back and forth ending in an agitated
tremor. "It took a guidance counselor to reach me." For some reason,
the memory of that rescue, the liberation of someone finally saying none of it
was her fault, helped her at this moment. "You know, this is like a
Dr.
Phil
show. Except there's no resolution at the end of the hour. You're
going to have to do…" She licked her lips. "…your own thing. And I'll
have to deal with it. But don't expect me to jump for joy."

He didn't say a word. Didn't look
exactly chastised, but didn't look repentant either. After he left, she sat in
the rapidly dimming room too sapped to move, to turn on a light, to get
anything to eat. Certainly unable to call Pete. Even after her little speech,
she still felt insecure and unlovable.

For so many years, she'd pushed
these feelings away. The men she'd gone out with had not been keepers. Even
Hank. He was nice but was never going to last. She shivered, wrapping her arms
around herself. Her feelings for her parents were so far away from warm and
fuzzy. In fact, they were cold. She was cold. No one had ever really touched
her deepest soul.

Chapter Sixteen

Pete Rayne touched her deepest
soul. He'd said he loved her.

A week passed. He called her, left
messages. She left him a message on his home phone when she knew he'd be on
duty. "I'm all right. I need time to think. I'll call you in a few
days."

At work, she focused on teeth, but
otherwise her mind occupied with Pete and her feelings about him. Could she
trust enough to let herself love him and commit to him? What if it didn't work
out? Both of them could be hurt.

But what if it
did
work out?
What if he was the one, and she let him get away? Was the uncertainty worth the
risk of opening up her heart? All week this was the direction of her thoughts.
She drove herself mad with them.

***

Pete lay sprawled on his bed,
cross-eyed with ecstasy.

Just when he wondered if Sharon
would ever call, he'd heard the doorbell and there she stood with fierce
courage in her eyes. The confidence. The serene sensuality. His heart soared with
the arousing, animalistic, lascivious scenarios invading his mind. She'd made
her decision, had taken the leap of faith, and had come back to him. And the
reward for both of them was the here and now.

In his bed. He held his breath
while she opened the jar of chocolate body paint. Jesus. He grabbed a quick
gasp before she layered it over and around his cock with delicate strokes of
the tiny brush. He clenched his jaw, but a groan still slipped out. The sight
of her kneeling between his thighs, the serious expression on her face as she
stroked. It made him harder than he'd ever been, the sensitive skin stretched
tightly over the broad head of his dick. His hips jerked when she flicked
chocolate into the hole at the top, the sensation at once painful and ticklish.

"Keep your hands still. Don't
touch me," she ordered.

He was only able to fist the sheets
in torture of the most glorious kind. His balls had already withdrawn tightly
into his groin as she smoothed the soft bristles over and around the circle of
his cock.

She finally glanced at him. Her
eyes twinkled with humor and devilment.
Holy God, I love her.
"Share."

"Do you like this?" she
purred.

All he could do was nod and arch
his back. He was losing it. A drop of cum seeped from his slit. Shit. She skimmed
the thick fluid over the chocolate. "Fuck! I can't take any more," he
exclaimed, his voice pitched embarrassingly high.

Her smile quirked. Her mouth
opened. She grazed her tongue over the ridge of her top teeth, swiped it over
her lips to wet them, and
Holy Mother of God
, she took him in her mouth.
He shouted. She sucked at him fiercely, lapping at him systematically with her
tongue. Up and down. Around and around.