34 - A Taste of Honey

Sheet and comforter tucked tightly around her body, Petey toyed nervously with the stupid Santa hat, waiting for Jon to appear.  Gone were her boots, tights and shirt, but she’d put on a pink bra and left the choker, hat and skirt.  He seemed to like the girly parts of her.

You’re supposed to be pleasing yourself, not anyone else.

That little voice was annoying, causing her a moment’s confusion.  Was wanting to please someone else considered pleasing yourself?  Or did you have to say damn everyone else’s happiness in order to have your own?

My, aren’t you and Mr. Daniels quite the philosophers?

She’d clearly had too much to drink when she itched to punch her own conscience in the face.

But without those drinks, would you be here on pins and needles, willing to give him whatever he asks for?  And be happy about it?

A delicate shiver crept up her spine.  That was more like it.  Good voice.

The corner of her eye twitched, reminding her about the false eyelashes and glittery makeup from hell she’d decorated her face with earlier in the evening.  It hadn’t been ‘pretty’ to start with, and she was sure it had dwindled to flat-out hideous by now.  Throwing the covers back, she hurried into Jon’s bathroom and looked in the mirror. 

Yep.  She looked like a raccoon hooker with the dark, sparkly circles around her eyes. 

The false eyelashes peeled off easily enough and, after dropping them in the trash, she wrenched on the faucets.  While the water warmed, she pumped a generous amount of liquid soap from the dispenser and worked it into a lather before swirling it across her face.  The first attempt removed most of the black, so she now leaned toward the albino end of the hooker rainbow. 

Raccoon and albino hookers?   Hooker rainbow?  Lay off the whiskey next time.  It makes you nuttier than usual.

Mentally shushing herself, she gave her face a second good scrub until there was no trace of hooker to be found.  Her contacts were screwed up from the soap and water, but a few rapid blinks and they were back to normal.  Well, as normal as pink contacts got.

Replacing the hand towel on the rack, she clutched tight to the vanity and took a moment to investigate her surroundings.  The entire room was done in blacks and grays, much like the bedroom.  It was very masculine with its black marble sink and counter top, slate floor and shower tile, and plush black rugs.

She ran a finger over the lone toothbrush in the holder, grinning evilly. 

The toothbrush that keeps that perfect smile clean.  His fans would go nuts over something so silly.

“Hey.”

The quiet greeting startled her, and she whirled to find Jon lounging in the doorway, watching her.

“Hey.”  She knew without a doubt that her face was flushed with guilt.

“Whatcha doin’?”

Petey saw his lips twitching in a Herculean effort to control his smile, and she lifted her chin defiantly.  “Just washing my face and checking out your bathroom.  I’m thinking of remodeling and was interested in your shower.”

“Do you like shower sex?”

There was no teasing twinkle in his eye, only curiosity, and that surprised her.  Her first instinct had been to fume over his fun at her expense, but Jon was serious.

“I’ve never had shower sex.”

She glided forward – at least it looked like a glide through her whiskey-colored glasses – and hooked her fingers around the outstretched hand he put forth.

“We’ll do that next time, my sexy, freshly-scrubbed Santa,” he murmured through the kiss he conferred upon her bare shoulder.  “Right now we have more pressing business.”

Her body tightened in all its respective girl-parts, and she allowed him to lead her back to his room.  When she made to climb onto the bed though, he kept her close with a light tug.

Spinning on the ball of her foot until they were chest to chest, she lifted an inquiring eyebrow, finding Jon peering steadily down at her, his expression unfathomable.  “What is it?” she asked.

“You don’t have to do this.”

Whatever doubts the annoying voice had stirred up were vanquished by those six words.  Sure, they argued.  Sure, he was arrogant and a little demanding.  But for whatever faults he had, Jon had always been the perfect gentleman when it counted.  Like now.

One delicate shoulder lifted casually.  “You got me a present.  Consider this my gift to you.”

“You mean that present over there?”  His head tipped to the side, indicating the pink package sitting on the dresser.  He must have brought it upstairs with him.  “The one you haven’t opened?”

One side of her mouth curled with whimsy.   Damn right she hadn’t.  “Yeah, that’s the one.” 

“Maybe you should do that before you commit to a gift.  It might not be worth reciprocating.”

She laid a feather-light hand along his sternum, drawing lazy circles with her fingertip.  “Maybe you should shut up and graciously accept what’s been offered to you.”

Humor lit the blue eyes from within, and he was back.  This was the Jon she knew.   The Jon she’d... had such amazing sex with.

“Anybody ever told you how smart you are?”  He closed in on her until, steadily stealing her space and her breath until she was forced to fall backward, splayed across the bed.

“Nobody that matters,” she breathed, looking up at the man towering over her.  Well, except her mother, and there was no way in hell she was bringing her mother into this bedroom.

“Well, I personally think you’re a genius.”  He crawled onto the mattress, and when she tried to scurry away, he reverted to stalking her as a lion does its prey.  “Scoot back on the pillows and let me look at you.  I haven’t had a chance to fully appreciate Santa Barbie.”

Petey froze, mid-scoot, to pin him with an evil glare.  “Did you just call me Barbie?  Now I know why you were so different at the party.  You were clearly stoned out of your mind.”

He lifted a diminutive foot to nibble at its glittery pink toes, not even remotely impressed with the look that she’d intended to wither him.  “Get your hackles under control there, Elvira.  Barbie pink was what I meant.  Ain’t no way in hell anybody’s gonna mistake you for Barbie.”

“Oh.”  That was okay then.  Wasn’t it?  She cocked her head to the side.  “Should I be insulted?”

“You should be leaned back against those pillows all pretty, so I can ogle you,” he growled.  “Now, woman.”

She graciously treated him to the dimples in her left cheek and obediently scuttled up to do as he ‘asked’.

“You didn’t have that on at the party,” he accused, tugging the strap of her bra down onto her arm.  “It would’ve shown with that shirt you had on.”

“No.”  The sensation of his skin scraping against hers was a welcome one that she’d been without for too long.  It distracted her enough that she uttered the truth without considering the ramifications.  “I was trying to be pretty for you.”

Petey!  Did you just say that?  What the hell are you thinking??

His pupils dilated, while his fingers busily worked the buttons on his shirt.  “Mission accomplished, Sugar.  Now take it off.”

That would leave her only wearing the little pink skirt and the hat.  Oh, and the collar.  She wasn’t even wearing any panties under the microscopic skirt.  Had he noticed yet?

Leaning forward, she snaked an arm up her back and released the clasp on her bra at the same time he was busy kicking off his boots.  She was about to seductively slide it from her body, when one very masculine hand abruptly plucked it away.

“Even prettier,” he admired, then shucking his jeans and pitching them to the side.  He was now both completely naked and completely aroused.  His erection jutted proudly in front of him, a drop of moisture glistening at its tip.  “The hat’s cute, but it’s about to get in the way.  Toss it.”

Heart racing at his authoritative tone, she had second thoughts about what she’d subjected herself to.  Would he ask too much?  Worse yet, demand too much?

The hat slid to the floor from her boneless fingers.

“Petey, look at me.”

The command left no room for argument and she instinctively obeyed, discovering him stone sober when she found his face.   

“Last chance, Sugar.  If you don’t tell me no, I’m going to lick you from stem to stern until you scream.”  He widened his eyes questioningly.  “Are we okay?”

“I told you…”  Petey put her brave face on, knowing the perfect gentleman would make it okay.  “…tonight I’m yours.”

“God, woman, you’re going to kill me,” he muttered, one heavy hand roughly skating up her bare thigh.  “I don’t know where to start.”

“'I will slowly kiss my way up the inside of your left leg, from knee to crotch, stopping at the crease of your thigh and running my tongue along it.’,” she recounted softly.

He shook off the surprise quickly, and replaced it with an easy smile.  “Been thinking about that proposal, have you?”

The flush in her cheeks was minimal.  She was getting used to his directness.  “I told you I would take it under advisement.  I have.  ‘I will slowly kiss my way up the inside of your left leg –'“

“Yeah, yeah.”  He settled into a comfortable position on his stomach.  “I’m taking the hint.”

The actions were just as he promised – he kissed up the inside of her thigh.  What she had been unable to prepare for was the accompanying sensation.  Each wet kiss drew perilously closer to her center, until he stopped just short, licking at the seam of her leg.    He pressed the blunt tip of his nose against the damp skin, inhaling deeply, and she squirmed, whimpering under her breath.

“You aren’t wearing panties, you naughty little girl,” he chided, his fingers massaging the kisses into the tender flesh of her inner thigh.  She could feel herself opening to him, like a flower to the warm sunlight.  “If I had known that, I wouldn’t have been able to stop from fucking you in the coat closet at that party.  I don’t care which of my friends you were attached to.”

She didn’t want to talk about his friends or that God awful party where she hadn’t known him.  What shared about was what he was doing with his shaggy head directly between her thighs.  Focusing on that would be nice.

“’I’ll have to go through the whole thing again with the other leg.  Kiss.  Lick.  Taste.  Smell’.”

“Get on with it, huh?  Yes ma’am.”

The process was painstakingly repeated, each open-mouthed kiss only serving to increase her already heightened arousal.  This part was all good, she thought as his nose once again nuzzled her.  It was the next part…

“What’s next?” he coaxed, the breath of his question tickling her. 

“'I’ll ease back and part your swollen lips with my thumbs, so that I see all the shades of pink hidden inside.’”

Flipping back her skirt, he did just that gliding, his thumbs along the smooth periphery, and she could feel the cool air on her exposed femininity.  “Ohh,” she breathed.

“Tell me, Sugar.” 

Petey felt his breath against the folds she knew must be dripping wet by now, embarrassingly so.  She struggled to contain her discomfiture, but her legs unconsciously tried to drift together. 

Jon was there to stop her with his forearms.  “Stop.  I told you I hoped it would be all shiny and wet for me.  There’s nothing to be embarrassed about.  What now?”

“'I’ll press my nose against that little puff of pubic hair and inhale a deeper breath of sweet, musky smell clinging to it.'"

"Mmmm," he purred against her sex after inhaling deeply.  "I love the smell of a hot, willing woman."

As he'd predicted, a shiver coursed through her, causing chill bumps up and down her limbs.

"'I’ll be like a kid in a candy shop, not able to decide where to taste first, but rest assured I… will… taste… everywhere.'"

"Jesus, finally..." he breathed against her drenched folds before swiping the length of her labia with his broad tongue.

After that, words were replaced with murmurs, moans and whimpers of appreciation from both of them.  Jon methodically licked each fold, valley and crevice until his lips were shiny with her juices and Petey was practically screaming with pleasure and frustration.

"God, Jon!  Pleassssseee..."

"Watch me," he rasped, and withdrew his touch from her until her glassy eyes lifted to meet his.  "Watch when I take your clit."

Petey saw lust in the color of his eyes and the unusual flush of his cheeks.  His gaze was steady while deliberately scraping his teeth over the sensitive nub at the juncture of her thighs.  Crying out at the torturous pleasure, she reflexively bucked her hips, but he held firm, just barely holding the bundle of nerves captive until she was quiet and nearly still again.  Then he sucked sharply, rolling it in his mouth and over his tongue like the candy he said it would be.

Petey shrieked, coming off the bed and burying her fingers in his hair to hold him close as she rode out the wave of annihilation he'd set in motion.  She convulsed under and around him until she was reduced to a quivering puddle of goo, devastated in the aftermath.

Not content until his plan had been implemented to the fullest, Jon leisurely dipped his tongue into her still-spasming center for his taste of cream.  Much like a contented cat, he hummed with appreciation, his tongue swiping at his lips, lest he lose a drop of her essence.

Then, without warning, his face was buried in her neck and he had filled her body with his in one powerful thrust.  She felt and heard their flesh slap together with the intensity of the coupling, and despite the lethargy brought on by his 'tongue lashing', her nerve endings began to sizzle again as he rode her mercilessly.

"Come for me, Petey," he ordered hoarsely.  "You know you want to.  Give it up for me, Baby."

Already hyper-sensitive to his touch, the sound of their bodies smacking ruthlessly together and his forceful command joined forces to hurtle her into another fifty-story free fall.  She clawed desperately at his shoulders, clutching wanton thighs around his waist as her muscles seized over and over and Jon flooded her with his fiery blast of liquid heat.

There were no words.

There was no thought.

There was just bliss.