Hook, Wine and Tinker Read online

She went back to the table and began to clear. “You ready for dessert?”

  “I’m always ready for dessert,” he announced. That was certainly true.

  Pete actually helped her take dishes off the table, an historic first. “What can I do to talk you into going with me? We’ll have a great time.”

  She carefully stacked dishes in the sink, squirted in some soap, and turned on the water. “I might consider it if you got some reasonable costumes.”

  He stood right behind her, nuzzling her in that spot on the nape of her neck that blockaded thought processes. “Come on, Gwynnie,” he purred. “Do this for me. It’s always been my fantasy to be Peter Pan and get it on with Tinkerbell.”

  She felt herself falter. Playing Tinkerbell to Peter Pan had never been one of her fantasies, but maybe if she went along with his, he might go along with some of hers… Or at least the ones she felt comfortable talking about with him. Gwyn’s mind wandered to her other fantasies. Romance with a capital R, as some tall, dark, handsome masked stranger swept her off her feet and carried her away to his palace. After a romantic meal served by impeccable retainers, the tall, dark, handsome man would take her to his most secluded chamber and…

  With a wrench she forced her mind back to the present. She leaned back into Pete’s kisses. “It’s really one of your fantasies for us to go dressed as Peter Pan and Tinkerbell?” she asked.

  “Yeah,” he admitted. “And Gwyn, if you go to this with me, I promise I won’t give you a hard time next time you want to go to one of your friends’ fancy dress dinner parties.”

  “You’ll wear a suit and tie without whining?”

  He grinned. “I’ll keep the whining to a minimum.”

  “If you’re willing to promise me you’ll wear a suit and tie in exchange, I know this means a lot to you. So, okay. I’ll wear the Tinkerbell costume.”

  “Great,” he said, moving away from her. “We can go to the party, then come back here in our costumes and…” His face lit up. He rubbed his hands together briskly. “So where’s that dessert?”

  “Why don’t you make the coffee, and I’ll get the tiramisu.”

  “You know I can’t make coffee worth a darn.” He lounged against the wall near her refrigerator.

  “It’s not rocket science,” she said. “Watch me. You can start making coffee for the mornings when you’re here for breakfast.” She ground the beans, explaining each step. Then she started the coffee brewing and got the tiramisu out of the refrigerator. She arranged portions on little dessert plates. When the coffee was ready, she brought it all to the table.

  By the time she lifted her fork for her first mouthful, Pete had already gobbled down his whole serving. “Got any more?” he asked, eyeing hers.

  “Here, Pete. I’ll give you some of mine. But savor it,” Gwyn said. “Taste how good it is. Roll it around your tongue.” She passed some her dessert to him.

  He waggled his eyebrow. “I’d rather roll my tongue around something else.”

  Sounded good to her, but she wanted to finish her tiramisu first. “So tell me more about this party. Who else did you say is going?” Even though he’d raced through the fabulous confection, she intended to enjoy every last drop of her portion.

  “Loads of people. Dominic Laredo has a huge yacht with a great big party room. So everyone from the San Diego branch of the company and other business associates are going to come together.”

  “Sounds like that guy needs to get a life instead of sailing around and forcing people to dress funny for parties.”

  Pete laughed. “I need to tell people that one. I’m surprised you don’t know more about Dominic Laredo. They call him the playboy billionaire entrepreneur. Always going out with movie stars and lady senators and famous people. He was on a glossy magazine’s Fifty of the Sexiest Guys in the Universe list last year.”

  “I must have missed that.” She furrowed her brow in thought, intrigued in spite of herself. “Maybe this party will be better than I expect,” she said. “And maybe I can fix up the costume, make it look less cheesy.”

  He frowned. “I think it’ll look great on you as it is. I have an idea. Try it on. I bet you’ll look really good—lots better than you expect.”

  That might not be a bad idea. If he saw how stupid she looked, maybe Pete would give in and let her get something more glamorous—or at least less embarrassing. She took the garment bag into her bedroom.

  After she wriggled into the strapless costume Gwyn realized it was even skimpier than she’d first thought. Her boobs were hanging out the top. As for the bottom…she was grateful she’d gone for a recent bikini wax. Pete’s eyes nearly popped out when she came back to the living room.

  “I really can’t go out in this,” she said, making an it’s-impossible gesture with her hands that almost left her nipples exposed. “I’d probably break several laws wearing this in public,” she said.

  “There’d be a line of guys waiting to bail you out,” Pete said, twirling Gwyn around. “Why don’t you put your hair up the way Tink always wears it?”

  “You mean in a bun like in the cartoon?”

  He snapped his fingers. “Yeah. Similar to the way you had it when I got here tonight only without the rose. And she wears those high little shoes with the fluff on the front.”

  “I’d feel more like a Playboy Bunny than Tinkerbell,” she said.

  “Hey, that works too. Speaking of being a Playboy Bunny, why don’t we start making like two rabbits and…”

  “I thought you wanted to do Peter Pan and Tinkerbell. You’re not in costume.”

  “Tomorrow,” he said, taking her in his arms.

  “Be careful of my wings,” Gwyn warned, as she let herself fall into his embrace.

  “I’ll be very careful,” he said hoarsely as he slipped his fingers under the flimsy fabric. It took him just moments to slide the top of the costume off her breasts. Her nipples beaded before he pulled her to him, lowered his head, and began to suckle her left breast.

  Gwyn ran her fingers through his hair as his tongue laved her nipple, sparking a live wire from her breast to her clit. Pete knew so many of the moves that were just right to bring her to the near shore of ecstasy. But she wanted to get to the far shore too. She moaned, wanting him to clamp his mouth down harder, to flick his tongue faster. With his left hand, he played with her right nipple, stroking, pulling, then cupping the breast. She wished he had two tongues. The thought brought her arching closer to him.

  “Let’s take this to the bed,” he said dreamily.

  For once, she undressed faster than he. All she needed to do was slip the clingy pink stuff off and step out. Maybe there were some advantages to the tiny costume.

  Pete had his shoes and shirt off. His large erection was complicating the removal of his jeans. Gwyn decided to help. She ran her hand along Pete’s fully packed rod, enjoying the feel of it as it bowed out the tracks of the zipper. “Let’s get these pants off you,” she whispered.

  “Oh, yeah,” he said.

  She knelt down and began to finger the zipper, eliciting a major groan from him. “I need you to get it out, fast,” he whimpered, hopping from foot to foot.

  She started to ease the zipper over his bulge. He hissed when she caught a bit of flesh in the teeth, and she winced. She finally got the zipper down over the rest quickly, relieved to see that the minor mishap had done nothing to dampen Pete’s ardor.

  “Let me kiss it and make it better,” she murmured.

  “Oh, yeah, baby,” he said as she took his engorged tip into her mouth and began to lick. He still stood with his jeans open, his throbbing shaft reaching out from the fly of his Batman shorts. While she lowered his jeans and shorts, she let her tongue explore him first, little darting flickers. She cupped his balls, stroking and squeezing as she licked the length of his cock, alternating that with taking the head in for a good solid suck.

  He held her head to him, his fists buried in her hair. He made little, unintelligible noises and gr
eat big moans. “Gwynnnn,” he groaned. “Oh, God. Jesus. So good.”

  She was really getting into it. He tasted and smelled of musk and Ivory soap, also salt and garlic—must have been the sauce. Tonight she suddenly decided, she was going to let him come in her mouth. Usually she didn’t. Actually, she never had before. She knew he wanted to. And tonight, she wanted to cross that new bridge with him as a token of their relationship deepening. Tonight she would taste him as he let go in the release she brought him to. Tonight he’d be inside her in a new way. Another level of intimacy between them, opening them up to more of the romance she craved. And then maybe she’d be free to talk about some more of what she really wanted with him and get him to listen.

  Now she let her teeth follow where her tongue and lips led, covering his cock with the tiniest of love bites, nips like from a butterfly’s wings—or a magic fairy’s. Maybe there really was something to her dressing up in the costume he’d picked.

  She felt him grow larger in her mouth. She withdrew for a moment and then surrounded his balls with her lips, first one side then the other, tonguing and licking and showering him with more of the tiny love bites, all the while she stroked his moistened shaft with her eager fingers.

  “Oh, Gwyn. You’re killing me,” he hissed. His hands gripped her tighter, as he bucked his hips to meet her mouth. “If we don’t stop now and get next to each other, I’m going to…”

  She pulled away and looked up at him from under lowered lashes. “That’s what I want tonight,” she murmured. “I want you come in my mouth. I want to taste all of you.”

  “Christ,” he moaned as she took his cock back in her mouth and fingered his balls. They both began to move faster, her tongue and teeth urging him on, one hand on his ass, holding him to her.

  He grew larger and harder and then screamed out as he began to pour himself into her mouth. Gwyn swallowed the salty bitter drops as Pete shuddered to the end of his climax.

  Spent, he collapsed backward onto the bed.

  Now Gwyn wanted to cocoon herself in Pete’s arms and tell him how close to him she felt at this moment. She figured they’d talk a bit, cuddle, make love again—this time with her finally having the climax she’d been chasing all night—and fall asleep in each other’s arms. And at some point, she’d start talking with him about exactly what she needed and wanted from him so clearly that he had to understand.

  Pete lay back for about two minutes. Then he stood up. Gwyn stood up with him. She figured he’d finish undressing, get naked like she was.

  Instead, Pete said, “Wow. That was really something,” and proceeded to pull up his boxers and his jeans and zip himself shut.

  Gwyn looked at him in surprise. She sat down on the bed and drew the top sheet around her. “What are you doing, Pete?”

  He shrugged. “Gotta go, babe,” he said.

  She frowned. “Go? Where are you going?” Her voice rose in disbelief.

  “I’m meeting some of my buddies. We got some underground Halloween horror videos. They’ve gotta go back tomorrow. Didn’t I tell you?” He was fully dressed now.

  “No. You neglected to mention your other plans.” She let out an exasperated sigh. “I thought for sure you’d stay the night, like you usually do when you come here for dinner. I need you to stay.” Her voice sounded to her like a whine, and she winced.

  “Sorry,” he said. He ran his index finger around her face. “Tomorrow night,” he said. “Peter Pan and Tinkerbell. All night. I promise.”

  “I’m really disappointed,” she said, wishing she knew a stronger word, wondering what he’d have done if she hadn’t sucked him to climax. Wishing for a moment she was the kind of woman who could pick up her lamp and her bottles of perfume and throw them at him. Most of all, she wanted him to change his mind. But she knew he wasn’t going to.

  “I really need to go,” he said. He hugged her. “Tonight was great. Great food, great sex.” He gave her a good buddy tap on the rear. “And I promise one hundred percent I’ll make it up to you tomorrow.”

  Her fists clenched, Gwyn watched Pete leave, whistling as he walked. Running on empty, Gwyn finished cleaning up from dinner and their brief interlude in the bedroom. Tonight felt like a rerun of too many previous nights.

  No way she was going to be able to sleep ‘til she at least took the edge off. Gwyn took a cold shower. She started getting into her cotton nightshirt, then reached for a red silk slip instead—one she’d wanted to wear with Pete. She lay down in bed and ran her hands up and down her breasts and belly, savoring the touch of the smooth fabric barely separating her fingers from her body. Her nipples hardened instantly as her fingers made contact with the sensitive puckers. She closed her eyes and fantasized Pete there with her, but Pete’s face kept fading away. She must have been really pissed at him to keep losing his face in shadows the way she did. Instead, her dark, mysterious stranger came to her, cuffed hand and foot to a big bed. So he wouldn’t be able to just run away. Spread eagle, with a huge erection she was about to lower herself on. Ooh, he was huge. As she humped him, he writhed, thrusting into her in a rhythm that…

  Her right hand soon found its way down to her damp folds and her aching nub. She rubbed in all the places she was dying to have touched, the places the mysterious stranger was bringing to life as he moved. She clamped her thighs around her hand, two fingers now moving inside her as she pressed against her thumb. She pumped harder, harder…

  Stronger measures were needed. Sighing, she reached into her night table drawer for her brand new deluxe vibrator, eight inches of creamy white plastic complete with a fresh battery. Guaranteed nirvana. She turned the vibrator on, pressed it against her cheek, and felt for just a moment the hum of its love song. She closed her eyes and invited her bound stranger back into the bed. He sang to her with the buzz of the vibrator. Oh, yes.

  Foreplay was over. She put the vibrator where it belonged and rode that sucker like it was a bucking bronco and she a rodeo queen—within moments achieving the elusive climax she’d been primed for all night. Near tears with relief, Gwyn stroked her mollified folds and clit, ran her fingers through the blonde curls at the entrance of her core. The stranger was gone. She’d have liked him to stay longer.

  One to take the edge off, but the need for release began to build in her again. She touched her wetness, then used her fingers to coat the vibrator with her dew. Marking her territory, she thought. She sniffed the vibrator, savoring her own scent—a delight Pete was missing out on tonight. She wondered idly if her scent turned him on, the way his scent did her. She licked the vibrator, tasting herself on its tip. Then she gave it a kiss, and directed it back to its primary duty.

  Now she could take her time, allowing the vibrator’s pulses to take her up the slope of sensation at a more leisurely pace. She closed her legs and opened them, comparing the different sensations she got from the tip of her plastic friend and the sides. Her orgasm snuck up on her. Suddenly, there it was, and there she was. At least with her vibrator and its heavy-duty battery, she knew she wouldn’t be cut off in mid-come. She released a huge sigh, as her coordinated movements brought her to that second larger release she’d been thirsting for.

  Thank the universe and the battery makers, she was at last relaxed. Gwyn hugged a pillow to herself and wondered about all her efforts to bring romance into her relationship with Pete. Was she fighting a losing battle, barking up the wrong tree? There was a lot she liked about Pete, but maybe what they did have together just wasn’t ever going to be enough.

  Alone at night like this, she could allow other desires free play, dreams of that dark stranger with an inventory of toys and experience she could only begin to imagine. She envied her clients, already in confidential communication with Fantasia Resorts about the fantasies they wanted to live out on their vacations. Gwyn had memorized the resort’s brochures; she knew Fantasia Resorts was totally dedicated to the fulfillment of secret fantasies—as long as those were legal and involved only consenting adults. Every
detail was seen to: food, service, décor, costumes, implements. There was even a joke that Fantasia Resorts controlled the weather. How ironic that Pete should work as one of the programmers who made sure those fantasies could be accommodated. He never appeared to have the slightest curiosity about anything but the most ordinary sexual activities—and he seemed to take all sensuous accompaniments for granted.

  Gwyn tossed in bed, waiting to fall asleep. Her mother, always on the lookout for the man of her dreams, had abandoned Gwyn at age twelve—and disappeared from her life. Word was she’d followed the wrong man and ended up badly. Gwyn was raised from that time on by her mother’s older sister Aunt Nora, a “spinster” who encouraged her to go to college, build a career, get secure, and avoid bad boys who’d lead her astray. But a French film Gwyn had snuck out of the house to see when she was thirteen always stuck in her mind and dreams as a model of passion and ecstasy. Erotic bondage and role play. Bad boys galore. Gwyn had burned with curiosity for years, but she’d always feared where that curiosity could lead. She wanted to be like Aunt Nora, but was afraid that deep down she was really more like her mother. If Gwyn let herself go, she’d follow the wrong man to disaster. Never mind that she’d have a great time ‘til she got to disaster…So many thoughts swirled through her aching mind before she fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

  * * * * *

  Ready for bed in his luxurious quarters on board his yacht, Dominic Laredo reviewed his plans for the Halloween party he’d be hosting the next night. He stretched out his hands across the expanse of fine linen covering the king size custom mattress. The gentle lulling of the waves rocked his small world, bringing him to the edge of sleep. He’d set up these private quarters as the stage for his meeting with the woman of his fantasies. Of course he was always setting the stage for this woman to come into his life—in all his residences, at all his resorts. So far she hadn’t, though hundreds of others had.

  He began to stroke the erection that thoughts of his fantasy woman always brought. He grinned, wondering what the magazine that labeled him a sex god would think if they knew he’d taken himself in hand tonight.