Obsession (15 page)

With a groan, Peter pulled his hand from my pussy. “I’m not sure we can stay.”

“You think she saw us?” I whispered in alarm.

“No.” Peter pressed his lips to my ear. “I’m not sure I can stand another moment of being here when I need to get you naked. Immediately.”

Giggling, I pulled my head away from his lips just as the waitress arrived with our drinks. Peter thanked her, then kissed my cheek when she was gone.

“It was your idea to go to a restaurant to eat,” I told him. “I wanted to go to a drive-through.”

“What was I thinking?”

He put his hand between my legs, touched me again, and I also touched him. Found him rock hard. And then we started kissing.

I was powerless to stop this inappropriate public display of affection. I was a slave to my desire.

I expected someone to yell,
Get a room!
No one did, but I wouldn’t be surprised if that’s what some were thinking. And I certainly wouldn’t blame them. Peter and I couldn’t keep our hands off each other. Being in a public restaurant right now was not the place for us.

And yet…

And yet, our being here was heightening our mutual desire for one another. It was like a foreplay session with lots of teasing.

The waitress arrived with the food a short time later, and the first thing Peter did was dip his finger into the whipped cream on my pancakes and offer me a taste. I opened my mouth, and he slipped his finger inside. I sucked the whipped cream off slowly.

He repeated the action, this time putting the finger into his own mouth. “Not as sweet as you,” he announced once he’d swallowed. “But this whipped cream is giving me an idea. If only I could get you naked right now, we could have some delicious fun.”

My clit pulsed. If Peter wanted to get under the table and eat my pussy, would I be able to stop him?

I pushed the scandalous thought from my mind. Of course, neither of us would get that out of control, but the thought aroused me even more.

Peter scooped up more whipped cream, and this time put it on my nose. Then he licked it off slowly.

“Imagine my tongue on other parts of your body…parts that will be much more appreciative.”

“The more you talk and don’t eat, the longer it will take for us to get out of here.”

Sighing, Peter turned his attention to his food, and we both wolfed down our meals. We didn’t care about the taste; after all, we weren’t eating meals prepared by a gourmet chef. But I suspected that even if we had been, we’d have eaten for sustenance rather than enjoyment, as long as it meant we could get naked faster.

We barely made it to Peter’s car before we were in each other’s arms in the parking lot, hotly kissing as though there weren’t cars and people passing by on the busy avenue.

In my brain, I knew this. And yet, I didn’t care.

Peter pulled his lips from mine, then took my hand and jogged with me to the back of the restaurant.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

In response, he placed my hand on his cock so that I could feel how hard he was. “I can’t wait until we get back to my place. Can you?”

He meant that literally; I could tell by the look in his eyes.

He wanted to fuck outside? Yes, it was dark behind the restaurant, but anyone could come out at any time.

Pulling me into his arms, Peter made fast work of slipping his hands under my coat to cover my ass. “Am I the only one who cannot wait?”

“No,” I answered honestly. “But—but what if someone comes out here? Sees us?”

He turned me around, making me face the wall. “I know.” His warm breath tickled my neck. “But some of the excitement comes from the risk.” He brushed his lips over my skin. “Of knowing that I want you so badly I have to have you, even though someone might witness us together.” He pushed my coat up, and groaned when he saw my ass. “This is all you’re wearing underneath your coat? It’s almost nothing.”

“I also have on a bra,” I pointed out.

“I need to fuck you,” Peter said. “Right here.”

My legs shook. I wanted that too. But…“What about your car?”

“Right here. Please.” He ran his fingers along my folds. “My God, you’re dripping wet.”

All reason fled my brain. “Fuck me, Peter. I can’t wait.”

I heard the quick rustling of his pants, felt one arm lock around my waist. Then I gasped as he entered me with a hard, desperate thrust.

He thrust in and out, in and out. Hard and fast and relentless. I braced my hands against the cool wall, tried to keep my cries locked in my throat.

Peter kissed my neck, suckled my skin, and played with my pussy while he fucked me.

Within seconds, I was coming. Hard. Peter gripped my hips and drove his cock into my pussy, and his loud groan told me he’d just come, too.

There was no time to luxuriate in orgasmic bliss, not when someone could walk by at any moment. I turned, pulling my coat down as I did. Peter was doing up his pants.

Our urgent need for sex satisfied, reality was sinking into my brain. “You came inside me,” I said.

Peter met my eyes. “I know. I—I wanted to pull out.”

“I’m not on the Pill.” I ran a hand over my face. I didn’t feel like my body was ovulating, but still.

“Are you unhappy,
bella?
”

Was I? I was a little worried, yes. But I was likely being paranoid.

“I wouldn’t mind if you had my baby,” Peter said softly, stroking my face.

“You wouldn’t?”

“No.”

I said nothing, but once again told myself that I was likely being paranoid. I wasn’t about to get pregnant.

Peter took my hand in his and pulled me close. Then he kissed me tenderly.

He could fuck so wildly, and also be incredibly gentle.

“Let’s go home,” Peter said. “I have a surprise for you.”

I was certain that Peter’s surprise would be of the sexual variety, but when we got to his place and he insisted on covering my eyes while he led me to his second bedroom, I realized it had to be something else.

“What is it?” I asked, giddy and excited.

“You’ll find out in a moment.”

I could feel him stretching to open the bedroom door. Then he walked me inside.

“Okay. You can open your eyes.”

I did. And was floored.

“Peter,” I said in awe. In front of me was a large easel, a stool, and a table with an array of paints and brushes.

“Do you like it?” he asked.

I turned to face him, emotion filling my throat. “I can’t…I can’t believe you did this for me.”

Peter’s eyes were dancing. “So you like it?”

“I love it. And I love you for caring.”

“I have a friend in Miami who knows someone with a gallery. Maybe you can pursue this dream after all.”

I stepped toward Peter and placed a palm on his cheek. Andrew had never taken my “hobby” seriously—and here was Peter, encouraging my dream after I’d known him only a couple weeks.

“Thank you,” I said. “This really means a lot.”

I planted my lips on his.

And then we made love, nice and slow, on the bedroom floor.

I pretty much spent the next two weeks in Peter’s bed—except for when he was at work—which was exactly where I wanted to be.

The sex was hot, frequent, intense and luscious. I honestly didn’t know when I would grow bored of fucking Peter.

Aside from that one time outside Denny’s, we always used protection. We didn’t let our passion get in the way of common sense.

And things were changing between us. The more we had sex, the more it started to feel like making love. We were getting closer. I started to wonder if this was the beginning of something real with him.

He even gave me a key so I could come and go as I pleased.

He’d worked Friday, Saturday, and Sunday morning—another weekend gig out of town—and by Sunday evening, I was at his place. Not only did we have lots of sex, but we cooked together, cleaned together, and generally acted like a couple.

But by Tuesday morning, I knew I had to get going. My plan to go home Monday was waylaid when Peter had seduced me with more sex.

I twisted my head to see the digital clock on the night table at Peter’s side of the bed. It was 7:53 a.m.

“You’re awake already?”

Peter’s question surprised me. I thought he was sleeping.

I eased back down. “Yeah, I’m gonna get going.”

“Going?” Peter asked. “Where?”

“Home.”

Peter’s eyes narrowed. “Why?”

“You know. I’ll check messages, clean the house, check the mail. There are some bills that have to be paid…”

“You need to do all that right now?”

“I may as well get an early start,” I told him, and kissed his nose. “Especially since I’ll be coming back later. And I also told my friend Marnie that I’d go shopping with her today.”

“You can check your messages from here,” Peter said. “And Marnie doesn’t need you to shop, does she?”

“Theoretically, no. But it’s more fun to go with a friend.”

“I don’t like to shop.”

“That’s because you’re a man,” I said, smiling.

Peter tightened his arm around my waist. “I don’t want you to go.”

“I’ll come back.”

“Just stay with me.”

I eased myself out of Peter’s arm. “I do have to leave,” I said, climbing off the bed. “There’s also my cat. She’s got to be starving.”

“Oh, your cat will be fine. It’s true,” Peter said. “They can survive for days without food. I know. I used to have one.”

“Used to…in Italy?”

“Yes.”

“I guess you left it there?”

“No, I drowned the bastard when it scratched me.”

My mouth fell open in horror. “Peter!”

He grinned playfully. “I’m kidding, of course.”

“That’s an awful thing to say. Why would you even joke about that?”

“I’m kidding,” Peter stressed, his tone light. “As far as I know, Madonna is still alive. She’s what?—fourteen now—and lives with one of my sisters.”

I found my panties on the floor and slipped into them. “That’s good to hear, but I still have to go home and feed Peaches.”

“Okay. Go home and feed your cat. Then come right back.”

I felt a spurt of annoyance. It wasn’t like I didn’t spend enough time at Peter’s place. Not answering, I pulled my dress over my head. Then I went back to the bed and leaned over to give Peter a kiss.

Wrapping an arm around my waist, he pulled me onto the bed with him. I started to protest, but as his lips worked magic over mine, I melted into his kiss.

I was truly starting to believe that I was powerless once Peter touched me. That with his hands or mouth on my body, I could no longer think.

“Let me make love to you,
bella,
” he whispered in my ear, making my body quiver.

And when he pushed my dress and panties out of the way and buried his face in my pussy, I forgot all about the fact that I’d been planning to go home.

I didn’t make it home until the next morning, and only then because Peter had to report in for work. Peaches greeted me at the door immediately, her meows definitely angry.

“I’m sorry, baby,” I said, bending to stroke her. She let me pet her only for a moment, then started to trot in the direction of the kitchen, looking over her shoulder as she did. When she saw that I was following her, she kept going. Stopping in front of her empty bowl, she looked up at me with a pleading expression, one that seemed to beg,
Feed me!

I quickly filled one bowl with water and the other one with food. Peaches rubbed her head against my legs and purred, showing me some love as I was about to give her what she craved most.

Once the food was set down, she attacked it.

The red light on the wall phone was flashing, so I checked my messages. There were five from Marnie, starting from Monday night, and ending about an hour ago. She wanted to know where I was and why I’d stood her up for our shopping trip.

I called her.

“So you’re not dead,” she said sarcastically when she picked up the phone.

“I’m sorry, Marnie. I totally didn’t mean to stand you up.”

“What happened?”

“I just…I lost track of the time with Peter.”

“I called your cell. It went straight to voice mail.”

I’d turned it off, wanting no distractions. It was weird, because when I was with Peter, the whole world was about Peter. I wasn’t like that in my everyday life with Andrew.

Of course, my everyday life with Andrew wasn’t primarily about sex.

I didn’t want to confess to Marnie that I’d had my cell off to shut out the world, because it would sound…well, lame. So I said, “Let’s reschedule. I
promise
I’ll be there.”

“I had a surprise for you, you know.”

“You did?”

“Yeah. Robert.”

“TRULYACUTIE? He was there?”

“Uh-huh. He came so he could finally meet the friend I always talk about.”

“Oh, Marnie. I really am sorry.”

“Robert was disappointed. He was looking forward to meeting you.”

I didn’t know what else to say to make this any better, so I said nothing.

Marnie broke the momentary silence. “You could have at least called. That’s so unlike you.”

“I know, I know. I was wrong. But let’s make new plans. Hey, maybe we can all get together and hit a club this weekend.”

“That’s a good idea,” Marnie said, her attitude finally warming.

“It’ll be fun. Ask Robert if there’s a place he prefers. I’ll let it be your choice.”

After that, the conversation went well, and when we ended the call, we were both looking forward to a double date.

But when I broached the subject with Peter that night after dinner, he couldn’t have been less enthused.

“I don’t think so,” he said.

“Why not?”

“I don’t feel like going to some club where other men will be staring at you, trying to touch you.”

I frowned as I set our plates in the sink. “Well, we can go for dinner, then.”

“Maybe.” He didn’t sound interested.

“We have to,” I said, turning to face him. He was leaning against the fridge. “Marnie’s already pissed off that I was a no-show for our shopping trip yesterday. Apparently, I was supposed to meet her new boyfriend.”

“Why do you have to meet her boyfriend?”

What kind of question was that? “Because. She’s my best friend. And now that she’s got someone new in her life, she wants me to get to know him.” I paused. “I want her to get to know you, too.”

Peter’s eyebrows rose as he stared at me. “Does that mean you think I’m special?”

“Of course I think you’re special,” I answered without hesitation. We hadn’t had the are-we-dating-or-just-fucking talk, but I figured it was safe to assume, with as much time as we were spending together, that things were beyond the simply fucking stage.

Even if that was our favorite thing to do.

“Aren’t we dating?” I asked casually. “Or is this just about sex for you?”

“It was never just about the sex,” Peter said quietly.

“Good,” I said. “I’m glad you feel the same way. That’s why I think it’s important for you to meet my friends. And I’d like to meet your friends as well. I realize you haven’t spent much time with them since I’ve come along, but maybe they should meet the woman who’s occupying all your time.”

“I don’t have many friends.”

I’d kind of sensed he was a bit of a loner, perhaps because all of his family lived in Italy. But surely he had at least one good friend. “You must have at least one person you’re close to,” I said. “The way I’m close to Marnie.”

“I’m close to you,” Peter said. “You’re all I need.”

“The night I met you—who were you out with?”

“I was out by myself.”

Okay, that was a little odd. But not completely unusual. Guys probably did that more than women, especially if they were looking to get laid. Women liked to go out with a friend or two—even to the bathroom.

“I think I fell in love with you that first night,” Peter said. “The first moment I looked at you.”

I actually giggled, thinking Peter couldn’t be serious. But when I saw the solemn expression on his face, my laughter stopped.

“You’re not kidding,” I said.

“I never kid about love.”

My God, he loved me. Or at least, he thought he did.

Peter moved toward me, slipped his arms around my waist. “Do you love me, Sophie?”

A few seconds ticked by. I didn’t know what to say. But Peter was staring at me, clearly waiting for an answer.

“I love how we are together,” I responded slowly.

Peter abruptly released me. “You love having sex with me,” he said, accusingly.

“Well, yes,” I answered cautiously. “Don’t you love having sex with me?”

“My relationship with you isn’t just about sex,” he answered, and I could tell by his clipped tone that he was angry.

“It isn’t just about sex for me either,” I told him. “I care for you, Peter. Or I wouldn’t spend as much time here as I do. But how long have we known each other? Three and a half weeks? Is that long enough to know that you love someone?”

“Yes,” Peter answered without hesitation. “Don’t you believe in love at first sight?”

This conversation wasn’t going where I wanted it to go. It was far too serious, and I got the feeling that no matter what I said, Peter wouldn’t be satisfied. All I knew was that I wasn’t ready to have the “love” conversation with him, not when I was a married woman who was undecided about the future with her husband.

“My parents fell in love at first sight,” Peter went on. “They were married within three weeks of meeting. They were married for thirty-four years before they died.”

“That’s such a sweet story,” I said softly, pressing my palms against Peter’s chest. After my parents’ failed marriage, and my own issue with Andrew, I was feeling jaded about the whole happily-ever-after thing, but Peter’s story about his parents was the kind that made me believe in love again. “To be honest, I’ve been trying not to think about love,” I told him. “I’ve been burned more than once. First Chad, and then Andrew.”

Peter framed my face. “I would never hurt you,” he said, looking deeply into my eyes. “I love you.”

Could he possibly be serious? Could he
really
love me—romantic love, not just lust?

“And I think you love me too,” he went on, “even if you are afraid of your feelings.”

Peter kissed me, and the one thing I wasn’t unsure about—my carnal lust for him—stirred deep in my belly.