Starlight (Peaches Monroe) (Volume 2) Paperback – September 2, 2013 (7 page)

More notably, he was at least as turned on as I was. His modeling talent—the part that filled out the underwear pouch—was straining upward to see the world, or at least my nipples. The velvety pink skin of his cock stroked softly against my stomach, and I realized we were swaying, albeit gently.

Oh, that gorgeous cock was almost as pretty as his face. I wanted him in me—in my mouth to begin with. Keith was hugging me so tightly, though, that I couldn’t make any moves. Despite the coolness in the room, our bodies were hot against each other, and any moment I was going to start sweating.

“This is perfect,” he said with a calm voice.

Were we still hugging? Yes, apparently we were.

“I’m not sure what I’m supposed to be doing.”

“Being here with me is more than enough.” His hands started moving, stroking up and down my back. After being held in one spot for so long, the sensation was incredible. My back felt like it was made of light, and every spot Keith pressed or squeezed emitted new colors.

I moaned and leaned my head back, arching my upper body. He kissed my neck, his mouth hot and wet against my skin.

Gasping at the ecstasy of his touch, I moaned for him not to stop. This was so much better than the hugging.

When he reached my jaw, I tilted my head up again and we kissed passionately, our tongues caressing. His cock was rubbing up and down against my stomach now, the base of it getting wet from me.

“Trade spots?” he asked as he reached behind him for a condom.

“How?” I asked, but then I saw what he meant. Still facing him, both of us seated, I moved my legs to extend over top his thighs. He got the condom in place and used his hand to bend himself down enough to enter me. With a wiggle and a slight lift from me, bracing my palms behind me, he slid in. His whole incredible length and girth filled me gently. I gasped again at the sensation, fireworks sparking throughout my nerves and behind my eyelids.

This was happening. For real.

He caressed my breasts, moving in and out slowly, rhythmically.

Everything felt so good.

He took the next part as slowly as the beginning, and the more I let go and stopped worrying about getting somewhere, the more the divine pleasure built up. We swayed together, not moving very far in either direction, but still building heat.

“Lift your pelvis,” he whispered. “A little more muscle tension increases the blood flow.”

I leaned back again, using my palms for support, arching my back. Whatever was happening, the magic was working. I whimpered as I ground myself against his firm muscles, my clit mashing into his damp skin and short curls.

Keith fondled my breasts and craned his neck down, palming them upward so he could taste my nipples and run his teeth over the taut tissue. He sucked on one, then the other, making my eyes roll up in my head with pleasure.

His hips were rolling, moving in rhythm with and then against mine. I couldn’t get enough of him, moving gently back and forth inside me. I started to come, and I could tell it was going to be a big one, after all that buildup. He wrapped his arms around my back and pulled me close to him, then used his upper body strength to drive me up and down atop his hardness. My legs wrapped around him.

I cried out and buried my hands in his hair, hanging on for dear life as my orgasm shuddered through both of us. My wails quieted down until they were just raspy breaths. One final aftershock made me squeak with surprise.

We stopped moving, and all was still. He was hard inside me, neither coming nor going, from what I could tell.

“That was fantastic,” I said, giving him a kiss. The skin around his mouth was moist with sweat. “Now what? How shall we finish you off?”

“I’m good,” he said.

“I’ll say you’re good! Forget modeling, you should get paid to do that!”

He chuckled. “I don’t like to release every time, if that’s what you mean. I’m more about the journey than the destination.”

With that, he shifted back on the bed, withdrawing. One at a time, he pulled his legs out from under mine and swung around to lie on his side, gazing up at me.

“You’re really done?” I asked.

He pulled the sheet to cover himself from my curious eyes. I’d never heard of a regular guy choosing to not orgasm. Naturally, I was worried I had scared him, or that something was wrong with his twig and berries, perhaps permanent damage from wearing the cock rings for underwear shoots.

“Everything works just fine,” he said, as though he knew exactly what I’d been thinking. “What I really wanted was to hold you, kiss you, smell you, and taste your skin. I got all that, plus hearing you the sound of you coming. As for my preference, I find my senses are sharper when I’m not…
finishing
every day.”

He reached for my hand and pulled me to lie alongside him, my back against his front, our lower halves separated by a sheet.

“I’m not complaining,” I said. “Just curious.”

“And suspicious.”

“Not suspicious.” I brought his hand up to my mouth and gently gnawed on one of his knuckles. He had lovely hands for chewing on. “A little hungry is all.”

He combed through my damp hair with his fingers. “The sex was hot, but now our coffee is cold. Life always has a way of ensuring balance.”

I wriggled, feeling comfortable nestled against this man who’d been a stranger not twenty-four hours earlier. What surprised me most was I had no desire to run away, to flee the scene.

He nuzzled my ear and asked, “Remind me, how long do I have you?”

“Nine days,” I said. “Only nine days, and then I’m leaving LA.”

“I like this arrangement. You’re exactly what I needed to get my mind off Tabitha.”

My leg twitched. At the mention of some other woman’s name, the urge to flee had surfaced. What was that all about?

“Tabitha broke your heart?”

“She took my heart out of my chest, rented a moving truck, filled the moving truck with pianos, and ran forward and back over my heart repeatedly.”

I stifled a giggle.

He continued, “It gets better. She rented the moving truck using my credit card, too.”

“Wait, are we still talking in metaphor? This is getting complicated.”

His fingers caught in my hair tangles and yanked at my scalp, making me yelp and grab his hand.

“Easy there, wild beast.”

“Tabitha’s fault,” he growled.

Her name again. The urge to get away was almost unbearable.

I rolled away from him, off the bed, and out of the bedroom. I hustled, butt-naked, around the apartment gathering my stuff and getting dressed.

I could just leave!
Good idea, Peaches!

I’d thrown on my clothes and was hopping on one foot, trying to get my shoe on for a getaway, when keys jingled on the other side of the apartment door. A second later, someone was opening the door. Scratch that. Two someones. Tall, leggy, brunettes—a matching set.

One of them scowled at me and said, “Who the fuck is this whore?”

The other one smiled and tucked her brown hair behind her ear, then extended a hand to me. “Hello!”

I just wanted to slip out, without a weird confrontation, so I had to think fast. Glancing around the apartment, I spotted a red broom and dustpan.

“I am
cleaning
lady,” I said, using a (probably offensive) accent I made up on the spot.

The two girls stared at me, one looking as amused as the other looked irritated.

I continued, waving my hand in a swirl, “Out of Lemon Pledge. Have to go… store. Buy more. He no buy, tsk tsk.” I shook my head, really getting into character. “Bachelor. Always messy. With the beard hairs on the sink.”

The mean girl turned to the nice one, saying, “Seriously, Tabitha. Now he’s fucking the cleaning lady? This has got to be rock bottom.”

“No rock bottom,” I growled. “No fucking cleaning lady.”

I resisted the urge to cram my shoe up her butt and slipped it on my foot instead. What confused me most was that the nice girl was Tabitha, Keith’s ex-girlfriend. Who was the mean girl, and what pooped on her Pop Tart?

Miss Nasty said, “Your hair’s wet. You just had a shower, so stop lying.”

I put on a huge, stupid grin. “I clean shower real good. I get right in and scrub, scrub, scrub.”

“Ladies!” Keith called out, drawing our attention. He was dressed and looking every bit the model in a tight-fitting gray, V-neck shirt and light brown chinos. My jaw actually dropped at the sight of him. Damn, he was sexy.

Miss Nasty demanded to know who I was, where he’d been, what he was doing, and about a million other things, all peppered with swear words and spewing out of her nasty mouth like a volcano of ugly.

Keith came around to my side and draped his arm over my shoulders. “My housekeeper and I are in love,” he said.

My jaw dropped again. Now, despite what had just happened in the minutes leading up to here, I’m not big on lying, even for the purposes of a hilarious farce, but the look on Miss Nasty’s face was all it took to bring me over to the dark side.

“So in luff,” I said, still in my pretend-broken English. “I no resist big, handsome man. So sexy, like horse.”

Miss Nasty snorted. “Like horse! Keith! This is what rock bottom looks like. Here you are. I hope you’re happy, wallowing in your filth.”

I nearly cracked up. “No filth. I clean real good.”

Tabitha had already ducked away, into the kitchen. Some dishes clattered, and she returned to the area by the front door where we were standing, holding a popcorn-sized green glass bowl. “Got what I came for,” she said cheerily.

“Nice to meet you,” she said to me. “I’m Tabitha, by the way.”

“You break heart,” I said, hugging my arms around Keith protectively and putting on an exaggerated frown. It was surprisingly easy to play this role of Keith’s cleaning lady. The broken English forced me to slow down and think about what I was saying more than I usually did.

Keith squeezed me tight against him and kissed me affectionately on the side of my forehead. “And then you fixed my heart,” he said to me.

“I did? Oh! I did.”

To the other girls, he said, “Yeah, this has been going on ever since you both moved out. I didn’t tell you, because we weren’t sure where it was going until now.” He leaned down and rubbed his nose against mine, then gave me a quick kiss on the lips. “Ursula is moving in with me,” he announced.

In unison, the brunettes said, “Ursula?”

I nodded. “Family name. You no like?”

They seemed skeptical, but there were so many lies being flung around, they didn’t know what to disbelieve first.

Keith said, “Ursula, this is Tabitha, my former girlfriend, as you’ve figured out. And this other charming young woman, who seems to have forgotten the manners we were raised with, and needs a dose of cayenne to remind her, is my sister, Katy.”

I pointed to him, then Miss Personality, aka Katy. “Keith, Katy. Brother, sister. I get. Keith is nice.” I gave her a dirty look, my eyes nearly squinted shut, like I was putting a curse on her—a curse I would have learned back in my homeland, wherever that was. “Katy is like kitty-cat who is not so nice.” I held my hands up in a clawing gesture and hissed.

Katy’s mouth knitted up, erasing her lips entirely from her face.

Tabitha edged closer to the door. Considering she was the ex-girlfriend, she was taking everything rather well. “Come on, let’s go already,” she said to her friend.

“Not yet,” Katy said, her lips still thin with tension. “Ursula, you’re invited to dinner tonight, with our parents, at their house.”

“No, no. Too much,” I said, which wasn’t a lie at all.

“Sounds great,” Keith said, squeezing me tight against him. “I’ve been meaning to introduce her to Mom.”

“Hah!” yelled Katy, making me jump.

She opened the door and the two of them were off, without another word.

The door closed, and Keith held his finger to his lips for a moment, then went to watch them leave via the peephole.

After a moment, he turned around and gave me a sheepish look.

“You’re crazy,” I said.

“Me? You’re the one who pretended to be my cleaning lady.”

“I had to protect myself. I can take down one mouthy bag of hair extensions, but not two at once.”

“That’s my sister you’re talking about.”

“News flash! Your sister’s a mouthy bag of hair extensions. I’m surprised she doesn’t have a reality TV show.”

“She got a callback for Big Brother.”

“Color me anything but surprised.”

“You’ll warm up to her, I promise.”

“No, I won’t, because I’ll never see her again.”

In response, he gave me a pouty look.

“Forget dinner,” I said. “Family drama is not what I signed up for.”

“If I take you out today on the best date you’ve ever been on, then will you come with me to dinner?”

I rolled my eyes. “Now I know why Mitchell warned me about you boy models. Those gorgeous brown eyes of yours are very difficult to say no to.”

He put his fingers under the edge of my jaw and tilted my head to face him. Tenderly, he kissed me on the lips. His gentle touch took my breath away, and with it, my resistance.

As he pulled away, he said, “Let’s unbreak these hearts. For the next nine days, let’s practice saying yes to each other, and saying yes to life.”

Another kiss.

“Say yes to me, Peaches,” he said. “Let’s experience utter happiness together, no strings and no baggage, for nine days. Just say yes.”

Keith gave me another kiss, this one weakening my knees and softening my legs to the consistency of over-cooked carrots.

He said, “I’m all yours, body and spirit, if you say yes.”

“Yes,” I whispered.

“Good.” He kissed me again.

Muffled by his mouth on mine, I mumbled something about breakfast.

He pulled away and said, “Let’s go to this great pancake place I know of.”

“I don’t know,” I said with a sigh. “First you make coffee that we don’t drink. Then you have sex but don’t come. Please promise me we’re not going to order breakfast, then leave as soon as the food hits the table.”

“I wouldn’t do that to you.”

“If I get a forkful of pancakes and you knock it on the ground, that would be very Keith Raven of you.”