Love Doctor Page 8

  There was a knock at the door. She looked at it, slightly panicked. She was naked, decorated with chocolate and exposed.

  He stood. “Ah. The wine has arrived.” He walked to the door and opened it, blocking the waiter’s view with his body.

  He returned and made quick work of the cork and poured a glass. He still hadn’t asked her to explain herself. He hadn’t pressed her about treating him like a patient. Either he decided he didn’t care and was just here for the sex or he wanted to sway her. Win-win.

  His attention to her skin and the meticulous way he was lining up the chocolates was making her melt faster than the candies. He worked slowly, placing a truffle and then stopping to run his fingers up and down the length of each leg, not quite reaching her wet pussy, teasing her mercilessly.

  He stopped and took a sip of the wine, letting a drop linger on his lips before he kissed her, letting her get a hint of the earthy plum flavor. He set the glass on the nightstand, Becky watching his body move as he pulled his shirt over his head. She reached out to touch his skin as he bent to remove his shoes, but he was too far away to touch without turning and dumping the truffles onto the white, silky sheets. He unbuckled his belt and his jeans slid to the floor. He was hard and his balls were tight to his body. She let her gaze travel his torso, enjoying the way a light path of hair 73

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  highlighted the trail from his chest to his beautiful cock. She remembered what it had felt like inside her and groaned again.

  He sat naked beside her. She ran her fingers up the length of his thigh, enjoying the thick muscles, the light dusting of hair and the warmth. “This one…” He held up one of the last little treats. The dark chocolate was covered in a light dusting of red powder. “I call this one the Hungarian. Its center is a mild paprika blended with a chocolate mousse.” He placed it right over her bellybutton. A trace of paprika was left on his fingers and he touched one to her lips. Becky licked the spice off as she looked into his green eyes. His jaw clenched as she sucked the tip of his finger into her mouth and ran her tongue in a circle around it.

  He offered a drink of the wine in place of the finger she was nibbling. She reluctantly let it go. He held her head and tipped the glass so she didn’t upset the warming truffles.

  “The last and most exotic flavor…” He set the glass down and picked up a candy wrapped in green foil and, like the others, tied with a gold bow. It looked more like a gift than a piece of chocolate. He pulled the ribbon. “The Green Fairy. Anise, cocoa powder, fennel and a secret ingredient give this little baby the flavor of the infamous Absinthe.”

  “Really?” Becky eyed the tempting treat displayed so nicely in this palm. “I’ve never tried it.”

  “And you shall have to wait on this for now. We have several others to try first.”

  Becky pouted.

  “Not to worry. Nothing here will leave you unsatisfied.” Craig stood and headed to the bathroom. The sound of water running and splashing gave her no hint what he was up to. As he walked back to her side of the bed, she watched his body move, loving the slight sway to his hips. “This might get messy.” He’d brought a warm, damp towel.

  “Close your eyes and open your mouth.” She did as he asked. When she closed her eyes, the rest of her senses zealously took over. The sheets felt cool under her legs, air 74

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  tickled her skin as it moved through the room. She heard unrecognizable music strumming from a distant source and the heady mix of scents from Craig’s chocolates was sweet-talking her sense of smell.

  She felt the room-temperature chocolate brush her tongue. The sharp taste of paprika invaded her taste buds and her nose at the same time. “Bite,” he whispered. She complied. As her lips met the soft treat and her teeth pierced it, all the flavors blended into something…amazing.

  Her eyes flew open. “Oh. My. God.” Becky chewed slowly. Craig popped the other half of the chocolate treasure into his mouth. “Amazing,” she said as the complex combination seemed to change as she savored it.

  He ran his fingers along her inner thigh again. Teasing, tempting her with his touch as well as the taste of his chocolate. Great sex and dessert. I’m in so much trouble here. He reached for the one called Fire. When he lifted it, there was a small, round pool of melted chocolate left on her skin. “Are you ready to get hot?” He wriggled his eyebrows. “I mean really hot, baby,” he said with a horribly mangled Ricardo Montalbán accent.

  “Fantasy Island, here I come.” He gave her a sip of the wine. The deep flavor cleansed her palate and readied her for the next truffle.

  “Open up.”

  She did. She took a larger bite of this one since she could see it. The heat from the chipotle burned her lips, the sweet from the dark chocolate soothed. The combination was mouthwatering.

  She watched his face as he fed her. His eyes hid nothing. Every move he made was with the intention of savoring the experience. E.C. Hill was not just here to get a quickie and move on. No way. This was clearly seduction with intent. She savored his creations as he licked the little circles of chocolate from her stomach. Too soon the chocolates were gone and Craig handed her the almost-empty glass. “Hold it over your head,” he said as he moved down her body. His hands, never 75

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  still, caressed as he moved his body between her legs. He nibbled at her thigh and Becky arched, trying to concentrate on keeping the glass upright and not spilling any wine while it was over her head.

  As he moved closer to her pussy, Becky had a harder and harder time paying attention to the glass. She opted to set it on the pillow next to her, holding it upright one-handed with her fingers gripping the stem.

  His tongue touched her pussy lips in a long, slow tease. She pulled her legs farther apart, attempting to push her aching clit closer, begging to have more contact. He moaned a little encouragement. “That’s it. Open for me.” Becky tilted even farther, opening herself, forgetting her concerns, longing only for his touch. He slid a finger between her folds, a reward for her compliance, and continued to lick at her clit. She was thrusting against his finger and his tongue in a rhythm that suited her lust. Her body was strung tight, her toes curled, her free hand gripping the sheets. Worried she’d grip the glass so tight she’d break it, she was barely holding the stem. She was losing the ability to concentrate.

  How he understood her body so well, she’d never know. He stroked her with his finger or moved his tongue just when and where she craved it. The groans and grunts escaping her mouth were loud and primal. She didn’t care. She wanted. Wanted more. Wanted Craig. Wanted to come.

  The feeling washed over. She let go of the glass and dug her fingers into his shoulders, crying his name, letting go of all her concerns and expressing and feeling like an animal. All her muscles tightened, the walls of her pussy gripped at his fingers as she shattered. Somewhere in her mind she knew she’d spilled the wine. She didn’t care. Craig didn’t either. He rose up, grabbed a condom from the nightstand and turned her body onto her side. He got up on his knees and straddled Becky’s bottom leg, holding her upper leg in a bent position, the back of her thigh against his stomach and her knee bent around his waist. Since she was on her side and he was kneeling with his cock right at her opening, she could reach out and touch his hips, his stomach, his thigh. 76

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  He rolled the condom over his cock without a word or a look at her. He scooted a little closer to her body and pushed all the way in on the first thrust and didn’t hold back. The feel of his cock moving inside her in this position was explosive. Another orgasm was building quickly. He ran his hand over her hip, across her side and grabbed her breast. His face was creased with fierce need. He gave her nipple a tight pinch before soothing it with a gentle rub.

  When she moaned he looked to her face. “I can’t hold back,” he said as he held onto her hip in an effort to pull her against his thrusts. She was about to come. She could barely reach his hip with he
r left hand but dug into his skin with her nails to hold on. He stopped, leaving her panting and throbbing. He turned her again, over onto her knees and entered her from behind, picking up the pace immediately. Becky groaned at the depths he reached and pushed back, her body going rigid almost immediately, coming again, exploding from the friction.

  Craig growled, his fingers gripping her hips as he buried himself in her body. She could feel his cock throb from his orgasm. She squeezed, trying to maximize his pleasure. He retreated and thrust one last time before letting his body go still. After a few moments, he traced the length of her spine with his fingers. He was breathing hard. So was she. The room seemed to spin ever so slightly.

  “You spilled the wine,” he said.

  Becky laughed. “I did. Main Events is paying for the room, so it’s not a big deal.”

  As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she regretted them. She’d wanted to linger for a moment before letting reality crash in on them again, and she had ruined it. She let her head hit the bed. “Sorry.”

  But Craig was laughing. “I put the wine on the room check too.”

  Nope. He didn’t mind work coming back into it at all. She was the one who had the stupid hang-ups. Liza had illustrated that beautifully today. Maybe she’d known it all along. All this time she’d been clinging to the Love Doctor persona and it turned out she really needed someone to heal her.

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  He eased her down until she was lying flat on her belly and kissed his way down her back. He was whispering to her. “You make me feel like a man, Becky.” His lips brushed the small of her back and he inhaled to catch her scent again. “At the same time, I get around you and I’m completely lost. I don’t mean to sound so mushy. Honestly. I know you’re not interested in something long-term,” he whispered as he kissed his way back up her spine. “I mean, you just do it for me. I suppose it’s just sexual, because that’s all we know, but damn, it’s good.”

  She lay there enjoying the attention he was lavishing on her body. She could get used to this kind of pampering. He was so tender and so fierce at the same time. His smile, his body, his confidence, his philanthropy and his sense of humor… Oh my goodness, his baking. Ebenezer Craigsen Hill was a very sexy man. And now he was giving her permission to walk away if she needed to. Holy shit!

  What do I do now?

  Her cell phone rang.

  His cell phone rang.

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  Chapter Seven

  Becky rubbed her aching temples. This had to be the strangest day of her life. She wished she had a video camera. Then she realized she wouldn’t need it as she looked over the festival grounds. The media was all over the place taking pictures and video.

  “Ms. Cooper.” The two police officers were doing their best to keep straight faces. But with Craig next to them, biting his lip to prevent a burst out of rolling laughter, Becky hardly expected the officers to maintain their composure. “Do you know who might want to do something…” The officer looked back over his shoulder to the closest sculpture. “Like this?”

  At that, Craig did laugh. Becky had to bite her own lip. “No, Officer, I don’t.” Becky turned and looked at the windmill. The Sheep Meadow was sprinkled with twelve-foot cocks—many of which now had two giant, blue-cardboard balls glued to the fabric at the base. Not exactly the kind of art festival one wanted to bring the kiddies to.

  “I can’t imagine who’d want to do this. I mean, it’s a charity event, for God’s sake.”

  She gestured to the giant pinwheel, which had already resembled a cock in its pristine condition. Now it was ridiculous.

  “Yes, ma’am,” the officer said. “Was there—” A yapping, pathetic bark—which sounded more like an injured pig than a dog—interrupted the officer’s question. Craig handed the officer some documents. “I’ve completed a statement for you. I’ll forward a copy to the insurance company.”

  All conversation halted as Samuel came racing around a jewelry vendor’s booth. The police officers backed up three feet as Samuel, wearing pajamas and flamingorange glasses, came flailing into the night like a deranged Muppet. “My pinwheels have been violated!” He was still wearing his fuzzy slippers. The media did not miss his entrance.

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  An overly tight t-shirt stretched across his hairy stomach, leaving his bellybutton exposed. The pink material was printed with three pugs, one black, one tan and one white. The image was taken from the back, very clearly showing off the rear ends of the dogs. “Nothing Butt Pug” was printed below the puppy posteriors. The PJ bottoms were capri-length—also tight—and shocking lime green, with little yellow and pink pugs printed all over them.

  Liza walked up and broke the stunned silence left in the wake of Samuel’s entrance. She looked at Becky. “Isn’t that the same outfit my mother-in-law had on the last time we saw her?” Everyone laughed. Even the older officer managed a small snort. Well, everyone but Becky and Samuel. “Not funny, Liza,” Becky said with a straight face, but she was fighting it. Do not laugh in Samuel’s face. Do not laugh in Samuel’s face. Samuel was not as amused as the rest of the group. It was her job to calm him. Samuel clutched the younger officer’s arm. “You have to find out who did this to my work. I bet it was loco Marcus Strawson! He has it bad for me, you know.” He pushed the orange glasses up his nose with one finger. “I keep turning his flaming ass away. But you know guys like him. They get angry.”

  He spun to survey the damage and held his arms out in exaggerated frustration.

  “This looks like a jilted lover’s work. Doesn’t it? Marcus is wishy-washy gay. I need a dominant man in my life. You know what I mean?” Samuel turned back to wink at the young officer, who promptly tried to back out of Samuel’s range. Samuel reached for him again, seeking solace for his pain. Nothing doing. The officer tried to step back and stumbled. In the retreat, the kid dropped his notepad. Samuel reached for it and handed it back to the officer from a kneeling position.

  Looks like a proposal to me, Becky thought.

  Farrah started her gargled oink-bark again, this time at the feet of the officer.

  “Hush, Farrah. No need to be jealous. Daddy hasn’t even talked this one into coming over for drinkies yet.”

  Becky snorted. Ever heard of subtle, Samuel?

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  The artist scooped up the pug and scratched her on the head, making her wiggle her curly tail. Her hassled breathing wasn’t much better than the creepy bark.

  “I have a girlfriend,” the officer proclaimed as Samuel stood looking him over like he was the latest design by Calvin Klein. The officer backed toward two other policemen talking to workers still on the scene, his eyes filled with a combination of amusement and fear.

  Craig coughed back another bout of laughter as the officer made his getaway.

  “About the vandalism?” He turned the attention back to the problem at hand. The older officer sighed. “We’ll look into it, Mr. Hill. But it’s not likely we’ll get anything out here. It’s not a clean crime scene and it’s pretty open for anyone to walk into. Your security guards said they didn’t see anyone here they could distinguish from the setup crew. We’ll dust for prints, but it’s unlikely anything will come of it.” He looked at Samuel. “Sorry, sir.” He tipped his hat and started off toward the rest of the crime scene.

  Becky called to the officer, “How long until we can start cleaning this mess up? The festival opens at eight a.m. I need all the time I can get to fix this.”

  “You can’t just fix it, Becky,” Samuel huffed in protest. “These are works of art. They have been violated in the most…!” He couldn’t seem to find the words. He fanned himself and stepped closer to the sculpture behind them. The police were taking down the crime-scene tape and the local evening news was recording.

  “Amusing way,” Craig interjected. “If it wasn’t a kids’ festival, I’d say leave the
blue balls.”

  Becky smacked his arm. “Stop it. You’re not helping.”

  Blue balls weren’t the only damage. There were posters glued to the fabric walls of some of the booths, homophobic slurs painted on them. All in all, it wasn’t too bad, but it did need cleaning up.

  Samuel was fussing at someone working to repair the damage. “You can’t just rip the balls off! They’ve glued them on. You’ll rip the fabric! Stop! Oh, for heaven’s sake.”

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  Becky raised her voice to be heard over the agitated artist. “I told them to figure out the best way to cut off the balls. Trust me, Samuel.”

  “It’s too late to fix this. Just tear them all down. Having nothing up would be better than having these butchered pieces out here. It’s Central Park, Becky! My biggest showing ever and it’s all ruined! I’ll have to move. The west coast is the only place far enough away to hide from the embarrassment of it all.” He nuzzled Farrah for comfort.

  “Farrah understands Daddy’s pain. Doesn’t she?”

  Oh, the agony. “Samuel. You’re going to be on the news. Like that.” She indicated his PJs. The last thing she wanted was the wild-assed artist in front of the cameras. “You should go home.”

  “I need to be here.”

  “No, Samuel. You need some rest. This has been a very trying experience for you. Maybe some brandy or a shot of that expensive tequila you like so much.”

  “That does sound lovely.”

  Craig watched as Becky expertly led Samuel away from the chaos. She was a natural with people and high-stress situations. She tucked Samuel and his mutt into a cab and headed back toward him.

  “You handled that well.” That and her performance in the meeting room told Craig a lot about this woman. “You should have been an attorney.” He braced for a shark joke.

  “My mom thought the same thing. Said I would argue over some useless fact until I was blue in the face, even when I knew I was wrong.”