by BETH KERY
“Welcome home,” she said before she flew into his arms. He lifted her feet off the ground, hugging her tight with his face pressed at the juncture of her neck and shoulder. He inhaled the smell of her floral shampoo, the singular fragrance of her skin and the slight hint of her paints—a scent combination he’d come to treasure as uniquely Joy’s.
“I like the sound of that,” he murmured as he lifted his head. He studied her face for a moment, gratified to see happiness in every nuance of her expression. He kissed her soundly.
“Did Rill finalize the set locations in Death Valley?” she asked when he lifted his head a moment later.
“Yeah. It’s going to be a brutal schedule. Rill wants to finish in ten weeks in order to keep down costs,” Everett murmured, touching her cheek softly. It’d grown pink and warm following their kiss. Her hazel eyes grew smoky at his caress.
“At least we’ll be together,” she murmured, turning her head and kissing his palm. Joy would be at the onsite shoot in her new capacity as partner of Hightower Special Effects. “It’ll be the first time we’ve worked together . . . officially, anyway.”
“What about the Vanity Fair cover?” Everett muttered distractedly as she pressed another kiss to his palm, and then tasted his skin with a warm, red tongue. He referred to a magazine cover they’d collaborated on several months ago. Joy had done a nude body painting of Everett that was already becoming a collector’s item. Joy had posed him in front of a background mural depicting a sunlit field of grapes. Everett stood in front of a trellis where ripe fruit hung, his body paint of sun-soaked leaves, vines and the weave of the trellis precisely matching the background so that he blended perfectly into the scene. She’d made him into a fucking God with that painting—a fertile Dionysus coaxed by her paintbrush into springing right out of the canvas.
The painting had been a private affair between Everett and Joy. The result had been stunning, Joy having caught his rising desire for her as she tortured him with her tickling paintbrush just as she had done that first day in the studio. His tense, rigid muscles, the flame of arousal in his eyes as he stared at her, a painful erection that didn’t entirely dissipate for three solid hours while she worked—all of it had been captured in the painting. When they’d finally made love afterward, it’d been like an inferno tearing through a fireworks storehouse.
All of it had ended up in the final photograph except his actual cock. For the cover photo, Joy had inserted a lush, large, juicy-looking bunch of grapes between his thighs in place of his raging erection.
“The Vanity Fair cover was hardly work,” Joy said before she slipped one of his fingers between her lips.
“You know, I never really got you back for that,” Everett mused as he watched her suck on his finger. His cock twitched when she began to slide it in and out of her warm mouth. He threaded the fingers of his other hand through her soft hair. It’d grown a few inches in the past few months. She wore it in a short bob that emphasized her cheekbones and large eyes. He’d been relieved and beyond grateful that Joy had been pronounced perfectly healthy at her last checkup. In the future, she’d only have to return every six months.
“You’ve gotten me back plenty of times,” she murmured around his finger, giving him a bewitching smile before she bit the tip of his finger gently and released him.
“Not in the exact same way.”
“Do you want to paint me?” she asked, amused.
“Yes.”
She blinked.
“Of course I won’t be able to do it with a thousandth of your skill, but my body paint will have its advantages.”
She arched her eyebrows, looking bemused but interested. He grinned and walked out of the room, only to return a few minutes later with the box that had been delivered with the mail.
“I ordered this for you,” he said, ripping open the box. “Well, for me, too.”
Joy read the label on the package.
“‘Erotic edible body paints—chocolate, strawberry, blueberry, peach and sweet cream.’”
Everett pumped his eyebrows. “Do you have any unused brushes?”
She laughed. “Yes.” She walked over to a large bureau and opened a drawer. “Here,” she said, handing him several brushes.
“Take off your clothes, little girl.”
She gave him a droll glance, but began to unbutton her cotton blouse.
He watched her fixedly while he tore off several sheets of the white paper Joy used to protect the carpeting while she painted, the result being that he didn’t make the paper long enough and had to start all over. When he’d laid several layers of the paper on the floor, he said, “Be right back.” He hastened to Joy’s and his bedroom and retrieved their favorite pair of padded leather cuffs from the bedside table. He grabbed a pillow from the hall closet.
“I didn’t handcuff you for the Dionysus painting,” she chastised amusedly when he reentered the room.
“Yeah, but I almost always cuff you. No reason to alter the tradition just because of a paint job,” he murmured silkily, approaching her. She looked extremely beautiful standing there wearing nothing but a tiny pair of pale pink panties. Her breasts looked firm, full and tender, contrasting markedly with her delicate, narrow rib cage. He caressed one of the soft globes, molding her to his palm. Her nipple stiffened so quickly, he leaned down and pressed his lips to it, so grateful for her responsiveness . . . her sweetness.
“Lie down on your back on the paper,” he said. He whipped his shirt off as she followed his instructions, and then removed his shoes and socks. A moment later, he came down on his hands and knees over her, the paints, brushes and cuffs in hand. He dragged the pillow beneath her head. “Stretch your arms over your head. Straighten them as best you can,” he murmured.
He cuffed her wrists together, and then pocketed the key in his jeans with a satisfied smile. As always, the sight of the black leather cuffs next to her smooth skin, the knowledge that she would be helpless in the face of desire, sent a jolt of excitement through him.
“You’re a sick, sick man, Everett Hughes,” Joy said with wry amusement.
“And you love me for it.”
“True,” she conceded.
He grinned and opened the package of blue paint. He dipped the paintbrush into the thick liquid, stirring it, before he withdrew it and set the container next to Joy’s hip.
“Let’s see. Where to begin,” he mused, studying his breathtaking human canvas. “Spread your legs so I can make an informed decision.”
She did so slowly. She had trimmed her pubic hair very short. His pulse quickened at the sight of her pink, feminine folds. Unable to resist the lure, he lowered his head between her thighs and inhaled her subtle, sweet perfume. His cock responded to the smell of her sex instantly, swelling and lurching against the fabric of his jeans.
“So lovely,” he murmured, kissing her once on her labia and evoking a small whimper from her throat before he crawled higher over her. “I may not have artistic talent,” he said, “but I have the instinct of a lover. And it’s telling me to start on Joy’s sensitive ribs.”
She jumped slightly when he touched the wet brush between two ribs and painted a stripe as far around her as he could go. He used the blue paint for the skin between her ribs and the peach-colored paint for the bones themselves. By the time he’d finished covering her ribs, he noticed that goose bumps had risen on her skin and that her nipples looked like hard, red berries.
“Cold?” he asked, gazing at his work appreciatively.
“No,” she said in a strained voice. His gaze leapt to her face. Her cheeks were flushed, and her eyes had taken on the glassy sheen of arousal he so prized. He held her stare as he leaned down and tongued off a blue stripe slowly.
“Hmmm. Not bad. Blueberry.” And then, a moment later, “Peaches and blueberries taste awesome together.” He felt her shiver beneath his tongue as he licked along her tender sides. It never ceased to amaze—and arouse—him how sensitive she was there.
&n
bsp; “I’m so glad you’re enjoying it,” she said breathlessly. She moaned and wiggled when his tongue dragged just below the lower curve of her left breast.
“You’d like it, I think. Want a taste?” he asked, lifting his head minutes later.
The sight of her lips parting made a stab of arousal go through him.
“Okay,” she said, seeming a little dazed.
He grabbed the dark pink paint along with a fresh brush. He straddled her, his knees at either side of her chest, and dipped the brush into the liquid.
“Keep your lips parted. Just like that,” he said as he began to trace her lips with the pink paint. The color looked vivid and a bit lewd on Joy’s sweet, lush mouth. It excited him. His cock grew so stiff that his jeans were increasingly becoming too confining. He set aside the paint and brush and hastily unbuttoned his fly. He reached down his pant leg, grimacing as he drew his erection over the waistband. The fabric of his boxer-briefs and jeans bunched around his balls. His cock fell heavily, but his clothing propped it up so that it stuck out of his fly at a downward angle.
He glanced up when Joy moaned. She was staring at his penis avidly, the tip of her tongue slicking along her graphically pink lower lip.
“Uh-uh,” he chastised lightly. “No dessert before supper.”
He gently lifted her head and used the tip of his penis to trace her smile. His cockhead now thoroughly covered with the pink paint, he thrust it between her lips into the warm, wet cavern of her mouth. A shudder of pleasure went through him as she eagerly sucked away the paint.
“Ah, that’s good,” he muttered tensely, thrusting into her mouth several times. He felt a tingle deep within his balls. “A little too good, in fact,” he muttered regretfully, pulling his cock out of her mouth and setting her head back on the floor. She looked up at him, her eyes glazed with desire, and licked off the remaining sugar from her lips. His cock bobbed in the air.
“I might have to spank you for that later,” he told her.
She grinned like the Cheshire cat.
He chuckled and scooted backward.
“Hmmm, let’s see. What flavors for the prettiest breasts in existence? Peaches and cream, I think.”
He went to work, using the largest brush available to him to coat the curves of her breasts in the peach paint, carefully painting around the crests, leaving the nipples naked. He paused after he’d picked up a smaller brush and the white paint. “It seems a shame to cover your nipples,” he said. “They’re a work of art all on their own. Guess I’ll just have to lick it off immediately,” he said with a decisive shrug.
He dipped the brush into the creamy liquid. He painted one nipple, and then the other, and then set aside the paint and brush. Joy’s breathing was becoming heavy. He came down over her on his hands and knees, elbows bent, and inserted just the tip of her breast between his lips. He listened to her moan softly as he first licked the sweet, cream-flavored, pebbled flesh and then sucked it greedily. She called his name sharply when he took a gentle bite of the sensitive flesh.
By the time he’d finished with both her breasts, her chest heaved as she panted. The firm globes of flesh were clean, damp and gleaming from his tongue. He was becoming unbearably aroused. There was something important he had to do before he lost his head in the heat of lust.
“Lower your hands to your belly,” he said. “I’m going to paint your fingers.”
She did so. He spent the next several minutes painting her fingers and one by one, laving off the paint with his searching tongue. A shudder went through her when he dragged his front teeth along the length of her last paint-covered digit—her ring finger.
“There’s something missing here,” he said gruffly, sucking the digit back into his mouth.
“The paint? It’s running down your throat,” she teased, watching him warmly.
“No, not the paint. This,” he said, reaching into the back pocket of his jeans.
He slipped the ring onto her finger.
“Maybe it’s not fair asking you while I have you at my mercy, but the truth is, I’ll take whatever advantage I can get.” He kissed her knuckles. “Will you marry me, Joy?”
He could tell by her flat, stunned expression that she hadn’t entirely absorbed what was happening. Finally, she blinked. He saw her eyes narrow as she stared at the flashing diamond solitaire he’d just placed on her finger. He waited on tenterhooks.
“I hope you like it. I picked it out, but Katie helped me. If you don’t like it, we can exchange it for another—”
She stared at him with an amazed expression.
“I love it.”
“Does that mean the answer is yes?” he asked hopefully.
Her smile was incredulous, but radiant. “Yes,” she said in a pressured whisper.
“Good. I guess that means I can uncuff you then, seeing as how you’ve agreed and all,” he joked. She laughed as he dug for the key for the leather cuffs.
“I can’t believe it,” she said after he removed the cuffs. A tear had fallen down her cheek. She lifted her left hand and gazed at the ring and then his face in dawning wonder.
“Why can’t you believe it? Did you really think I wasn’t going to make an honest woman of you?”
“No. I can’t believe it’s possible to be this happy,” she said simply.
His eyes smarted a little when he blinked. She started to sit up, one hand outstretched as if to embrace him, but he gently lowered her back so that her head again rested on the pillow.
“I want to finish.” He ran his hand over her belly, his fingers skimming the strip of skin above her pubic hair. “I want to thank you for letting me into your world. I know it wasn’t easy for you. I’m always going to be there for you, Joy.”
“I know,” she said in a choked voice, several more tears skittering down her cheek. “Thank you for not giving up on me, Everett. I’m always going to be there for you, as well.”
He smiled and picked up the little container of chocolate paint. “I saved the best for last.”
She whimpered and sighed as he carefully painted the liquid onto the lips of her outer sex and clit. She watched him with a tight focus, so much love in her eyes, as he set aside the paint and knelt between her thighs. He slid the tip of his tongue between the tender folds and agitated her clit. The taste of Joy’s sweet musk mingling with the chocolate made him a little wild. He tongued off her labia carefully and then spread the lips wide, making her swollen clit his captive target. He stiffened his tongue and agitated the sensitive kernel of flesh ruthlessly, his actions unapologetically lewd and demanding.
He became so lost in his desire, he barely noticed her tense pleas or the sensation of her fingers tangling in his short hair or even her nails scraping his scalp. He opened his hand over her hip, the fingers of his other hand keeping her lips spread, making her immobile, insisting she take all the pleasure he could give her.
By the time he felt her shudder in release, there wasn’t a trace of chocolate left. Only Joy’s sweet cream coated his tongue and throat.
His breathing sounded harsh to his own ears as he clawed at his jeans and underwear, desperate to be rid of his clothing. He stifled a curse when he entered her tight, warm embrace. He leaned over her, his arms holding him off her, his naked cock buried deep inside her. A spasm of pleasure rippled through him as he stared down at Joy’s perspiration-dampened face and rapt expression.
“You’re going to be my wife,” he said, feeling a savage sense of pride and possession.
“And you my husband,” she said, awe crossing her features as she caressed his bunched arm muscles. She met his stare. “For better and for worse.”
“And every blessed thing in between,” Everett said before he began to move.
* * *
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Titles by Beth Kery
One Night of Passion series
ADDICTED TO YOU
(writing as Bethany Kane)
EXPOSED TO YOU
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One Night of Passion eSpecials
BOUND TO YOU
CAPTURED BY YOU
Berkley Heat titles
SWEET RESTRAINT
PARADISE RULES
RELEASE
EXPLOSIVE
Because You Are Mine
PART I: BECAUSE YOU TEMPT ME
PART II: BECAUSE I COULD NOT RESIST
PART III: BECAUSE YOU HAUNT ME
PART IV: BECAUSE YOU MUST LEARN
PART V: BECAUSE I SAID SO
PART VI: BECAUSE YOU TORMENT ME
PART VII: BECAUSE I NEED TO
PART VIII: BECAUSE I AM YOURS
Berkley Sensation titles
WICKED BURN
DARING TIME