The Keeper (8 page)

The bathroom was now clean, too. A
basket of scented soaps and oils sat prominently on the counter, thick candles
in dishes with matches at the ready. The scene was set for heavy seduction.

However, if he didn't get back
soon, he'd lose his window of sexual opportunity. She'd be dead asleep. She
draped her dress over a chair, planning to lie down on the comfy chaise longue,
pull the afghan over her, and just close her eyes for a minute.

***

"Oh, shit. Share, are you
here?"

Dreaming. A thunderous sound jolted
her awake, like a bull tearing through the sophisticated penthouse space.

"Share, where are you?"

She groaned a greeting. At least
she thought she did. In her dream she did. For some reason her eyes wouldn't
open, thanks to numerous chocolate martinis. He'd never be able to find her if
she couldn't open her eyes.

"Honey? Sweetie? Are you
awake?"

His voice, the deep, sexy timbre of
his voice, crawled arousingly through her. Her weak and relaxed limbs belied
the tension spreading through her breasts, and she moaned at the rhythmic
fluttering pulse of her clit. His big body hovered over her. She turned her
head, and, without opening her eyes, mumbled, "Didja have a good
time?"

"Oh, baby, yeah." His
voice was all low and husky.

She wrinkled up her nose. "Uh.
Stinky cigar." Feebly lifting her hand off her stomach, she waved it in
his direction. "So sleepy, baby," she murmured.

"Shit, yur sleepin'. Little
Willie's gotta go to bed lonely?"

"Unh, yeah." She drifted
off again.

***

Crap. Light.
Pete slit open
one eye and immediately saw the person he wanted to wake up with forever. She
lay on her stomach, face turned toward him, dark hair in wild disarray around
her head. She was snoring.
So cute.
Little, dainty sounds, but still
snoring. He rolled toward her and pressed his lips to her shoulder. Nudging
aside the sheet, he encountered her back.
Hallelujah, bare, bare, bare.

Heart pounding and instantly awake.
At least he was. He groaned at the peremptory, thick beat of the blood in his
cock when he pushed the sheet down past her ass.
Oh, bonus. Her beautiful
round ass in a hot little thong.
Coming up on hands and knees, he straddled
her thighs while licking and nibbling down her spine. He admired the contrast
of his heavy, dusky, engorged morning cock poised over her soft, white cheeks.
Oh,
man.
He rubbed its head, smoothing the moist, sensitive crest across her
velvety skin, down the tempting, mysterious line. Dark thoughts churned.
Delicately, he slipped his forefinger underneath the elastic band lying over
the little dimples right above the curve of her ass. Traced it. Pulled it.
Watched it pull out of her crack. He groaned. His hips surged, his brain
clamored with a message of fuck her now.

She squirmed and moaned, coming
awake, fingers fisting in the sheets. He could tell the second she became aware
of him. Aware of him hovering over her like a blanket.

"Little Willie?" she
murmured sleepily, obviously not up to brilliant conversation yet.

Didn't matter, neither was he. He
licked his suddenly dry lips. "Yeah, Little Willie's hurtin'," he
said in husky, pseudo despair. "He needs some soothin'."

"What exactly does LW
want?" she murmured, sweet as honey.

They'd played the LW game almost
from the beginning. Little Willie was definitely not little. Especially right
now. LW wanted desperately, needed desperately to slide into her. He lowered
his chest to drape his body over hers, to envelope her in his searing heat and
drifted every little word sensually and sizzlingly into her ear, "Baby, LW
wants what he always wants—your hot, luscious, sweet pussy." He traced a
path with his fingertips over her shoulders, down her spine to her waist. Hands
around her waist, he yanked her ass up in the air, leaned forward, and filled
his palms with her breasts.

She wriggled, her delicious body
ecstasy in his arms.

"But, first, we gotta get you
nekked." He tugged. Together, they wrestled her out of the thong. His
heart and dick expanded in tandem. The woman had the body of a goddess, and now
the goddess that was Sharon Timmons was bare-assed naked and shifting
restlessly beneath him, trying to turn over.

"No, baby, I want you this
way." He pressed his palm firmly in the small of her back.

She stilled. "Pete?"

"S'okay, sweetheart." He
reached around her waist to slide two fingers over her pussy lips and capture her
clit.

She whimpered, arching her butt
into grinding contact with his dick.

He sat back on his heels, pulling
her up onto his thighs. One hand continued fondling her cleft. The other cupped
a breast and stroked gently, circling her nipple without touching the tip.

"Yes," she moaned,
rolling her head back and forth on his shoulder.

He pinched, relentlessly increasing
the pressure.

"Oh God, more," she
pleaded. "Harder."

"You're not the boss'a
me," he whispered into her ear, as he did what she asked anyway.

"Yesss."

"Do you want Little Willie,
baby?"

"Big," she huffed.
"I want Big Willie." Her body writhed continuously against his chest,
working her butt into his groin.

"Where?" It was becoming
harder to talk, even in a husky whisper. Nestled between her ass cheeks, his
cock throbbed. If he didn't fuck her soon, he'd die. Die a horrible, painful
death. "Where do you want him, baby?" he groaned the words.

"Inside me," she sobbed.
"In my pussy. Oh, God, Pete, fuck me nowww."

He pushed her forward again,
shoulders flat to the bed, ass tilted up. Roughly spreading her thighs with
his, he knelt between them and found her silky, slippery hole. Sliding a finger
in, he hissed in a breath at the smooth, slick, hot interior of her cunt.
Withdrawing, he caressed her clit.

She pressed her face into the
pillow and wrapped her hands around the nape of her neck. With long, low, and
agonizingly sexy moans and wiggles, she thrust and ground her ass against him.
"Baby, please."

"Okay, okay," he growled.
He pulled back and squeezed his cock inside her, one slow inch at a time. For
about two heartbeats. Then, all sense of self-control failed. He rammed himself
in, hard, threw his head back, and shouted. He stilled, cock buried deeply.
Back arched. Eyes closed. He gripped her hips, holding her in place.

"Pete," she moaned.

She cried out, low and guttural.
What was left of his rational mind, snapped. "Share," he groaned.
Dropping over her back, caging her in with hands braced next to her shoulders,
he withdrew. And thrust. Pumped back into her. Tried to fill his lungs with
air. Felt her taut around his prick, felt the searing, rhythmic pressure of her
deep within his soul. Felt her heartbeat in the flesh of her tight cunt.

She grunted.

He grunted. The flutters of her
interior muscles squeezed and massaged him, which only made him wilder. He
continued in his frenzied bucking and thrusting until scorching heat hammered
his balls, and his release exploded in a convulsive, rip-roaring orgasm.

"Jesus, baby," he gasped,
"You can be the boss of me." Crashing to his side, pulling her with
him, he clamped his arm heavily around her waist. Her skin was pink with
arousal, and a fine perspiration coated her body.
God, she's one exceptional
woman.

***

After dozing and more loving,
Sharon was glad Pete ordered a room service breakfast. Here they were in this
absolutely fabulous penthouse suite, and they'd hardly left the bedroom. At
least now, a table was set up in the living room before the French doors
leading to the terrace. A cold wind shook the leaves of the trees outside on
that lovely balcony and rattled the panes of glass, but they were toasty warm
inside, all wrapped up in the thick terry cloth hotel robes.

"Remember that first
night?" he asked as he forked a large bite of omelet into his mouth.

"You mean at Nook's?" A
pang like a shard of ice settled in her stomach. Why would he bring that up
now?

"Yeah."

She stared at her plate. That was
the night Hank ditched her for Nickie. She'd been shocked and devastated. But
even better, it was also the night she'd first danced with Pete and the first
time he kissed her. Glancing at him now, she didn't know if he was reminding
her of the bad part or the good part, but his golden gaze warmed her from the
heart to the tips of her fingers and toes.

"I was just thinking about the
crazy way things happened that night."

"Yeah, it was uncomfortable to
say the least," she murmured.

"I'm glad Hank left when he
did. He did me a favor."

She couldn't help but quirk her
lips in a smile. As painful as it had been to have Hank walk out on her, she'd
ultimately gotten the better bargain in Pete. He was so handsome, tall and
thickly muscled to her soft, petite femininity. Even his morning stubble was
gorgeous, actually sparkling in the rays from sunrise over Lake Michigan.

He rose from the table and strode
over to the stereo housed in the media armoire. "I brought some CDs."
He turned on the system and pressed play. "Come on." He held out his
hand to her. "Dance with me, Share?"

She bit the corner of her lower
lip. That's what he'd said that night. She remembered it clearly.
He'd
raised a hand to her hair and twisted his finger into the curls around her ear,
then brushed his knuckle across her cheek, tickling her with the strand of
hair.

This time, he just pulled her
close, tugging her into contact with his body, twining his arms around her
waist. The thick robes and heavy knots of the ties pressed into her stomach. Or
was that his penis? She slid her arms around his waist and rested her head on
his chest, sighing with happiness. He was a man who knew how to hug. His long,
muscled arms sheltered her, as they had that night. It had been the start. Of
something good, as the saying goes.

Her heart had still been pounding
in the embarrassment of the whole bar witnessing her humiliation. His dancing,
or rather swaying back and forth, shuffling his feet from side to side, went a
long way to start her healing. Now she considered herself completely recovered,
with Pete Rayne the doctor who cured her.

"But you just danced with me
to make me feel better."
Forget about all that old stuff. You're in the
here and now, and you're the happiest you've ever been.
She raised her face
to find him smiling down at her.

He tightened his arms. "Maybe
I wanted me to feel better. I don't think I realized until I took you in my
arms how much I'd wanted you there."

"You hardly ever talked to me
the whole time I was with Hank."

"That doesn't mean I never
noticed you." His husky, heated words enticed her. He circled her ear with
his fingers and then wrapped them around to cup her head. "But you were my
buddy's girlfriend. Off limits."

She shimmied uncontrollably.
Leaning her head back, eyes closed, she just enjoyed his light massaging of her
scalp.

"You wore a short skirt and a
tank top that night. I was desperate to find out what was underneath."

"You were?" She was
almost insensate with the sensuousness of his hands in her hair, stroking her
head. She loved that.

"Yeah." He lightly
brushed his lips over hers, peppering little butterfly kisses along her jaw.
"And the next night you had on that long, tight black dress. I could see
every curve. I was really ready to…well, you know." He gave a pained
snort.

"Find out what was
underneath?" she teased and giggled when he gently bit her on the side of
her neck, where it met her shoulder. She even enjoyed the scrape of his morning
whiskers across her tender skin.

"Yeah, and I love your hair
down, lying over your shoulders." He traced the strands. "You know,
these robes are too thick, and the knots are jabbing. I wanna feel your
skin." He slid warm fingers under her robe, pressing in insistent little
circles over her satiny shoulders.

She responded by trailing kisses up
the center of his chest. Leaning back in his arms, she tugged at the tie. When
it loosened, she parted the lapels of his robe and swept her hands across his
chest, following them with more kisses over his hard pecs. Little whimpering
sounds escaped her throat.

He shuddered. His deep groan
reverberated through the muscle and skin of his chest. That shudder aroused
her, almost more than anything else. To know how deeply she affected him by her
lovemaking was an aphrodisiac. As if she needed one with him.

"I love looking at you,"
she murmured, dragging her fingers down, sweeping the front of the robe
completely open. Looking at his magnificent body was a pleasure. The furrow
down the middle of his chest, the firm, rounded ridges of muscle on either
side. "Even your tummy button is hot. Cute. A cute little innie for such a
big guy." She wiggled her thumb in the hollow and sneaked a peek up at
him.

His narrowed gaze seemed to watch
her hands. His lashes fluttered, his fingers pressing harder. "Yeah,
baby…"

"And here's the pièce de
résistance." His belly quivered under her hands. The space below his
navel, long and flat, led to the sweet, soft darker hair at his groin. That was
where the magic began. She grasped his cock with both hands, earning another
deep groan and a pump of his hips.

"I love looking at you too,
baby." His voice was an unsteady whisper. He tugged her robe open and did
her one better, brushing it off her shoulders. It didn't hit the floor. It hung
up on the crooks of her arms, because she wouldn't give up her prize—his penis.

He pulled her against him. Her
breasts flattened. She shimmied, abrading her nipples on his chest hair,
feeling their hard little points poke his muscles. His cock filled her hands.
She opened them and palmed him tightly, rolling him back and forth on her
belly. The slit at the crest weeping, a drop of semen perched there.