Free The Keeper by Jane Leopold Quinn

moaned.
    She cried out, low and guttural.
What was left of his rational mind, snapped. "Share," he groaned.
Dropping over her back, caging her in with hands braced next to her shoulders,
he withdrew. And thrust. Pumped back into her. Tried to fill his lungs with
air. Felt her taut around his prick, felt the searing, rhythmic pressure of her
deep within his soul. Felt her heartbeat in the flesh of her tight cunt.
    She grunted.
    He grunted. The flutters of her
interior muscles squeezed and massaged him, which only made him wilder. He
continued in his frenzied bucking and thrusting until scorching heat hammered
his balls, and his release exploded in a convulsive, rip-roaring orgasm.
    "Jesus, baby," he gasped,
"You can be the boss of me." Crashing to his side, pulling her with
him, he clamped his arm heavily around her waist. Her skin was pink with
arousal, and a fine perspiration coated her body. God, she's one exceptional
woman.
    ***
    After dozing and more loving,
Sharon was glad Pete ordered a room service breakfast. Here they were in this
absolutely fabulous penthouse suite, and they'd hardly left the bedroom. At
least now, a table was set up in the living room before the French doors
leading to the terrace. A cold wind shook the leaves of the trees outside on
that lovely balcony and rattled the panes of glass, but they were toasty warm
inside, all wrapped up in the thick terry cloth hotel robes.
    "Remember that first
night?" he asked as he forked a large bite of omelet into his mouth.
    "You mean at Nook's?" A
pang like a shard of ice settled in her stomach. Why would he bring that up
now?
    "Yeah."
    She stared at her plate. That was
the night Hank ditched her for Nickie. She'd been shocked and devastated. But
even better, it was also the night she'd first danced with Pete and the first
time he kissed her. Glancing at him now, she didn't know if he was reminding
her of the bad part or the good part, but his golden gaze warmed her from the
heart to the tips of her fingers and toes.
    "I was just thinking about the
crazy way things happened that night."
    "Yeah, it was uncomfortable to
say the least," she murmured.
    "I'm glad Hank left when he
did. He did me a favor."
    She couldn't help but quirk her
lips in a smile. As painful as it had been to have Hank walk out on her, she'd
ultimately gotten the better bargain in Pete. He was so handsome, tall and
thickly muscled to her soft, petite femininity. Even his morning stubble was
gorgeous, actually sparkling in the rays from sunrise over Lake Michigan.
    He rose from the table and strode
over to the stereo housed in the media armoire. "I brought some CDs."
He turned on the system and pressed play. "Come on." He held out his
hand to her. "Dance with me, Share?"
    She bit the corner of her lower
lip. That's what he'd said that night. She remembered it clearly. He'd
raised a hand to her hair and twisted his finger into the curls around her ear,
then brushed his knuckle across her cheek, tickling her with the strand of
hair.
    This time, he just pulled her
close, tugging her into contact with his body, twining his arms around her
waist. The thick robes and heavy knots of the ties pressed into her stomach. Or
was that his penis? She slid her arms around his waist and rested her head on
his chest, sighing with happiness. He was a man who knew how to hug. His long,
muscled arms sheltered her, as they had that night. It had been the start. Of
something good, as the saying goes.
    Her heart had still been pounding
in the embarrassment of the whole bar witnessing her humiliation. His dancing,
or rather swaying back and forth, shuffling his feet from side to side, went a
long way to start her healing. Now she considered herself completely recovered,
with Pete Rayne the doctor who cured her.
    "But you just danced with me
to make me feel better." Forget about all that old stuff. You're in the
here and now, and you're the happiest you've ever been. She raised her face
to find him smiling down at