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.
He lost his mind in the pleasure;
lost it in the sweet draw of her mouth, the pressure in his balls, the heated
ache boiling up from deep inside. The little sobbing sounds of gratification
coming from her throat aroused him all the more, and he convulsed in a fiercely
intense surge.
He would have been humiliated to
pass out after climaxing with any other woman. When he awoke, just before
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.
He lost his mind in the pleasure;
lost it in the sweet draw of her mouth, the pressure in his balls, the heated
ache boiling up from deep inside. The little sobbing sounds of gratification
coming from her throat aroused him all the more, and he convulsed in a fiercely
intense surge.
He would have been humiliated to
pass out after climaxing with any other woman. When he awoke, just before
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