Doll Page 5

  “And you’ve got the bra and panties. Not that I mind the view.”

  For a moment, she stiffened. Fearfully, she raised her eyes to his. Would she see that same calculating hunger she was used to? That greedy look that reduced her to a thing, a possession, a trinket? But no. His expression was the opposite of that. Happy appreciation shone from his eyes. His smile had a touch of the devil in it, and a promise of delicious fun.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  “Nothing. A ghost. We haven’t said three yet.”

  “If we don’t do it soon, I’m going to forget how to count.”

  Giggling, she put her hands behind her back, on the fastening of her bra. He grabbed the bottom of his T-shirt, poised for take-off.

  “Three!”

  Clothes flew into the air, a flurry of underwear. Surrounded by discarded clothing, they stared at each other. Chloe felt her rib cage rise and fall with quick breaths. Without looking down, she knew her nipples were already at attention. As was his erection. It rose from a thick nest of black curls and pointed straight toward her, as if it had eyes only for her.

  Suddenly, desperately, she wanted to know what he saw when he looked at her. “Do you think…do I seem like…a…” she whispered, “doll?”

  “Oh, no. You’re no doll.”

  What did he mean? Did he think she was ugly? Maybe he was used to a different type. She crossed her hands over her breasts.

  “No! Don’t hide.” With one quick stride, he was in front of her, holding her face in his hands. “You’re beautiful. Wonderful. But you’re no doll. You’re too alive. Too sensitive. Look, I can feel the pulse beating in your throat. I can feel your skin warming under my hands. You’re a living, passionate being. How could anyone think you were a doll?” He ran his thumbs over her cheeks with a touch that seemed to treasure the very shape of her face. When he bent his mouth to hers, the depth of his kiss brought tears to her eyes. His tongue searched her mouth, as if he wanted to track down whatever sadness remained in her and soothe it away.

  She let herself sink into the comfort of that kiss for a long moment. But then she moved restlessly against him. Enough gentleness. She needed heat. Fire. Stepping back, she put her hands on his and drew them to her chest. As those warm palms encircled her breasts, she let out a long moan. Already stiff, her nipples hardened even more as he filled his hands with her flesh.

  “That feels nice,” she heard herself say. In the past, she’d never said anything during sex. She’d become that mute doll Andrew had demanded. Never once had she asked for anything. “Can you lick my nipples, please?”

  “No need to be polite, sweetie. I’ll do anything you ask.”

  “Lick them, then. A lot. Don’t stop until I ask you to.”

  “I wouldn’t think of it.” He tilted her face up one more time, and smiled into her eyes. Then he bent his head to the rosy nipples begging for attention. As soon as his mouth enclosed her right breast, her head fell back with a groan. Her nipples were used to being tweaked, fondled, squeezed, displayed in provocative lingerie, teased and tormented—but this was what she’d always longed for and never gotten. Long strokes of a loving tongue. Moist nibbling that sent electric jolts to her lower belly. A heated mouth tugging on those sensitive points, pulling moans from her.

  And Dustin’s mouth didn’t stop. Not when her nipples had swelled to the size of rose hips. Not when she shuddered from the pleasure. Not when his erection jerked against her thigh. She wasn’t at the mercy of his mouth. No, that mouth was at her service. She could ask it to do whatever she wanted.

  “Dustin,” she said in a whisper. “Go lower.”

  His mouth left her breasts and his tongue swirled a path down her skin. He took his sweet time on the journey, sampling the tender skin of her ribcage, the quivering flesh of her belly. A scent rose into the air, a sharp smell that made her nose tickle. The aroma of her arousal. She heard him breathe deeply as he nuzzled his head into the triangle between her legs. Kneeling in front of her, he planted his hands firmly on her ass.

  “You smell so sweet. I could stay right here for the next week or so.” As he spoke, his mouth moved against her, making her squirm and bite her lip.

  “What would you do, if you stayed right there?”

  “Well, first I would breathe you in for a while.” He took a deep breath then let it out. A current of warm air stirred her curls. Her lower lips swelled, and she moved her legs wider apart. “Then I would say, are you comfortable, sweetie? Would you prefer the prone position, or you happy staying upright?”

  “Upright,” she said in a croak that made him laugh.

  “Then hang onto those rafters. Right over your head.” He gave her sex a hard nip, and she yelped as the pleasure shot through her. She reached up and grabbed the beam that ran across the whole attic. Through her haze of excitement, she saw again the round window, and the fog drifting outside. The boxes, the wardrobe, the dusty surfaces. It was safe up here in the attic, and quiet. The only sound was their heavy breathing and those excited grunts. They were coming from her, she suddenly realized, and he hadn’t yet done anything more than playfully lap at her sex. Playfully—that was the difference. There was no threat here, no fear. Just pleasure turning her limbs to jelly.

  His tongue got down to business. It flicked against her clitoris, shooting little darts of sensation through her sex. Moisture gathered under his mouth, which seemed to excite him. He lapped it up with his tongue and shook his head between her legs, like a puppy with a toy. With his lips, he surrounded her clitoris and tugged. Her hips jerked toward him uncontrollably. An approving groan vibrated against her sex. All of a sudden she knew she was close. She gripped the rafter and pressed against him.

  “More. Please. Faster.”

  His tongue began a rapid-fire rapping against her clitoris, and with his hands, he pressed her lips together, thumbs rubbing the underside of the swollen kernel.

  “Oh!” she gasped. “That feels incredible.”

  In response, he flicked his thumb against her, and she let out a cry. Moisture dripped from her. She had no more control over herself. Spreading herself open for him, she felt the room spin around her. She barely knew where she was anymore. All she knew was she couldn’t let go of that rafter, and if he stopped before she came, she’d die.

  “Don’t stop,” she begged. “Please don’t stop.”

  Deep in her crotch, he shook his head, setting off more fireworks in her belly. Looking down, she saw his dark head nestled between her pale legs, like a perfect yin and yang. They were together in this crazy fever dream, partners in the stoking of her desire. For every stroke of his hot tongue, a jerk of her hips. For every moan from her lips, a tweak with his thumb. He wanted her to come as much as she did. And even though never before had she come with another person, there was no stopping this freight train. Bucking against him, feverishly hanging onto the rafter, she let herself fly into the oncoming hurricane.

  “Here I come, here I come…” The words came out in a feverish babble. “Don’t stop, don’t stop. Do it, do it, just like that.” His tongue, his thumbs, his velvet mouth, his iron hands. Together, they played her like a free-styling jazz band. When the tongue drew back, the thumbs pressed forward. When his grip on her hips tightened, the touch of his lips softened. With a grateful sigh, she surrendered to his mastery of her body. As the first wave hit, she threw her head back and yelled to the rafters. Still he nibbled and sucked, and another wave came, this one an intense rush of brightness. Closing her eyes, she gave herself over to the endless explosions of pleasure, like the grand finale at a fireworks show. She twisted and jerked against his head, and heard her own voice scream with bliss. Time stopped and she sailed through a new universe of bursting stars and dancing comets.

  After an unknown amount of time, her body still twitching as the waves finally subsided, she let go of the beam and collapsed into Dustin’s arms. As he hugged her against him, emotion overcame her, and she cried. At the age of twenty-e
ight—after ten years of marriage and two kids—she had her first orgasm with a man.

  Chapter Five

  Dustin held the quivering Chloe in his arms. Something momentous had just happened, but he wasn’t entirely sure what it was. She was crying, but he knew it wasn’t from pain. He knew an orgasm when he saw—and heard—one. There was no doubt she’d achieved satisfaction. On the other hand, he himself was in a state of near-agony from his bursting cock. It kept bumping against Chloe’s leg like a heat-seeking missile. He shifted his weight so it wouldn’t be snuggled against her quite so intimately. She was crying, after all. The last thing he wanted was to traumatize her further.

  But when he tried to move away, ever so slightly, she tightened her hold around his neck. Curled on his lap, her silky champagne hair drifting over his shoulders, she felt like an armful of sweet temptation. He gave a sound somewhere between a sigh and a groan. That hardened penis of his would have to deal with the torment.

  “Are you okay?” he finally asked when Chloe showed no signs of removing herself from his lap.

  “Yes.” Her voice was muffled in his chest, her breath warm on his skin. His erection gave another painful jump. “I’ve just…never done that before. I mean, come. With a man.”

  “But with a woman?” Hey, you never knew.

  “No! Never with another person. It wasn’t on the agenda.”

  “The agenda was seriously fucked. That was just about the sweetest thing I’ve ever witnessed. I hope all your doubts about yourself are gone.” He stroked her long hair and wondered why it never seemed to get tangled. It always fell flat and straight, like a waterfall.

  “But what about you?” She lifted her face from his chest, and he felt the full impact of her wide honey eyes, heavy with satisfaction. “You want your turn, don’t you?”

  “If you’re asking Buster, you know what he’ll say.” He looked down at his eager cock, bumping against her leg like a puppy.

  She climbed off his lap and stood in front of him. A strange, distant look came over her, as if her spirit had drained from her body. As he stared, flabbergasted, she turned in a circle. “How do you want me? I can do any position. You can come in my mouth if you want. Or in my ass. Or anywhere you want, really. It doesn’t matter to me.” Even her voice sounded different. Passive, helpless, like a little girl.

  “Chloe.”

  She didn’t seem to hear. Instead she ran her hands over her body. Despite the robot-like quality of the gesture, he found himself responding to her sheer gorgeousness. She truly was out of this world. At first glance, or even the millionth—he’d known her all his life, after all—she seemed tiny and fine-boned. Naked, she was the most erotic thing he’d ever seen. Every part of her was soft and sensuous, as though her flesh were covered with a layer of thick cream the color of pale golden sunshine. Her skin seemed to respond to the slightest current of air, now flushing, now pebbling with goose bumps. From her tiny waist, her torso rose in an elegant line, and her hipbones flared like two curves on a perfect heart. And on her chest, her hidden glory, the most astonishing breasts he’d ever seen. They’d taken his breath away before, when she’d begged him to lick her nipples.

  But now, as she turned, displaying herself, arching her back to give him a better look at her protruding breasts, he could barely believe his eyes. They were perfect, and shockingly large for such a tiny figure. They graced her chest like two plump goddesses, and those long, red, gorgeous nipples—he wanted to bow down before them.

  But he didn’t want this. He didn’t want that blank look in Chloe’s eyes. He didn’t want a mannequin posing for his pleasure. He wanted that other Chloe, the one who had dug her fingers in his hair while he sucked her to screaming release. The one who’d cried real tears as her body collapsed into his arms from pleasure. What had Andrew done to make her act like this?

  “Chloe, stop.”

  She stopped, arms akimbo, a startled deer. “You don’t want your turn?”

  “Honey, I want you. But only if you want me. There’s got to be joint participation.”

  She was quiet for a long moment. He watched a wave of rosy red wash over her throat.

  “I don’t know how to do that,” she finally said in a soft voice.

  “We’re in the same boat here. I’ve never made love with you, and you’ve never made love with me. We can figure it out together.”

  That seemed to make her relax, just a little. “But you’ve made love, well, the normal way.”

  “Don’t you know that when it comes to sex, there is no normal? There’s just what makes two people happy. You make me happy already, just talking to me. And you seemed pretty happy before.”

  “I was. I am. Oh, Dustin.” With that, she curled herself back into his lap. “Can we…can we just snuggle like this for a while?”

  Shut up, he told his protesting cock. “Of course, sweetie. Whatever you want.”

  “It’s a lot to think about.” She nestled her head against his chest. “So different. Such a delicious feeling, being so drowsy and happy…”

  After that, she was quiet. Her breathing became soft and even. He figured she was probably falling asleep. The pale early afternoon sun filtered through a cloud of dust. It tickled his nose, but he was afraid to sneeze in case he woke her up. Although the minutes ticked away, his erection refused to go down.

  After some time had passed, he eased her off his lap and settled her into a nest made of her clothes. She stirred and murmured, “A lot to think about…”

  “I understand.” I’ll never see her again. Not naked. When she wakes up, she’ll regret this. Fighting to hide his disappointment, he got to his feet. “Ignore the embarrassing stiffie. I am.”

  With an obvious effort, she opened her eyes. “Not embarrassing. Beautiful.”

  “Don’t flatter him, it’ll go to his head. Puff him up. Even more than he is already.” He pulled on his jeans, wincing as the zipper squeezed over his arousal. “There, that’ll shut him up. I can find my way down the ladder.”

  Absolutely convinced it was his last chance, he took one look back at her before he stepped onto the ladder. She was curled on the dusty floor like a nymph on a lily pad, her long hair rippling over her shoulders like a cloak. Rosy nipples peeked through the veil of thick blonde hair. A dreamy smile graced her lips. The look in her half-open eyes, the color of clearest honey, told him he was doing the right thing, even though it physically hurt to leave her. She looked content. The ghosts were gone. At least for the moment.

  Even though he knew it was right, that didn’t stop him from cursing himself the whole walk home. To have a woman like Chloe in his lap, in his arms, on his tongue, and then to walk away. What kind of man was he? He’d be kicked out of the locker room, the frat house, the fish house, or any other house where men gathered. Then again, he despised frat boys, of whom he considered Andrew to be a prime example. And he’d rather shoot himself than do Chloe any harm.

  Besides, he had work to do. Inside his fish house, with a first-things-first attitude, he tossed back a shot of rum. That felt better. Finally his erection began to subside. At least he wouldn’t have to go to the emergency room with one of those it’s been hard for three days stories. Although, if Chloe stuck around, he’d probably come close. Even though it was toasty warm in the fish house, he stoked the fire in the wood stove and pinned his hat and gloves to the rope that hung above it. One of these days he should throw out half the junk in this fish house. Among the paint scrapers and coils of rope and fish knives were tools so ancient, he didn’t even know what they were for. Some had to do with ice cutting, back in the days before refrigerators. He wondered what his ancestors would have thought of his handy mini-fridge.

  He took out a can of paint and opened it with a screwdriver. His lobster buoys needed a new coat of paint. In past days, Lisa had painted his buoys. Back then, they’d been purple and pink. Her choice. As soon as she’d left, he’d ditched the girly color scheme and gone for Halloween colors, orange and black.
This year, he was going to set double his usual number of traps because Brian would be with him all summer long, helping him on the boat.

  The familiar task relaxed him. He was sitting on his work bench, smiling to himself, thinking about how smart Brian was, how hard-working, what a great kid, much greater than two fuckup parents like he and Lisa could ever deserve, when he heard the door open.

  He groaned. “I don’t need help today, Gary. Take the bottle, and I’ll catch you later.”

  There was a pause then he felt a warm breath on the back of his neck.

  “How much later?”

  He whirled around on the bench. Chloe stood behind him, wearing her green wool coat and slim rubber boots.

  “I thought you were Gary,” he said stupidly.

  “Are you glad I’m not?” She came around the bench, and he swung back around to face her. She took the paintbrush out of his hand, and leaned the half-painted buoy with the others against the wall.

  “How’s Buster?” Standing in front of him, between his knees, she undid the top button of her coat.

  “Intrigued.”

  She unbuttoned the next one, revealing the creamy curve of her breasts. Apparently, he realized as Buster leaped back to attention, she was wearing nothing under the elegant coat.

  “Fascinated,” he added. The next three buttons went, and sure enough, naked Chloe peeked out at him. “Coat and boots, I guess that’s all you need on a rainy day.”

  “Yes, but this wool against my nipples…it’s been driving me crazy.” She drew the lapels of her coat apart, and he saw that her nipples had been teased into reddened peaks.

  “You poor thing. You came to the right place.”

  “I did?”

  “Absolutely.” He got up and went to his mini-fridge. Once he came back, he lifted one nipple and pressed an ice cube against the tip. She gave a shocked yelp, and he saw the questions racing through her eyes. Does it feel good, or bad? Or a little of both? He applied the ice to the other nipple, while holding the first one in the warm cocoon of his fist. Now she definitely liked it. She swayed toward him with a moan. Then she caught herself.