Pleasure Point: The Complete Series

by Evans, Jennifer

  Why hadn’t I stood up for myself? I was so humiliated that I hadn’t even confided in Carissa. I’d been avoiding James ever since, but the problem was, I still loved sex.

  I had discovered orgasms early, and sex had become a compulsion. I suppose it was like any other addiction—drugs, alcohol, cigarettes—tempting me to succumb to its grip. I didn’t want to be branded as easy, so I fought against it, throwing myself into my art, meditation, the healing power of crystals, anything to distract me from the constant heat in my pussy.

  My heart pounded with anticipation as I thought of Dominick. I set the crystal aside, glanced at Carissa’s sleeping form and fell back onto my makeshift bed. What would be the harm in a sexual fantasy?

  My warm fingers slid underneath my panties where I was soaking wet. I dipped my finger into my sweet honey pot and moistened my already-swelling clit, eager for my touch. My fingers made slow circles as my breathing and heartbeat sped up. Heat suffused my body, and a fine sheen of sweat covered my forehead as I worked my pussy just the way I liked it. Delicious circles, starting out slow as I thought of Dominick’s body on top of mine, his long dark hair tickling my face, his full lips covering mine as his wet tongue explored, his hands moving over my sensitive skin. My fingers moved faster, and when I felt myself getting close, I squeezed my nipple hard and came. I wanted to scream Dominick’s name, but I forced myself to stay quiet so I wouldn’t wake Carissa. I gave my clit one final squeeze. My fingers moved inside my wetness so I could savor the contractions. I moved them in and out, finally stopping and enjoying the way my pussy clenched my fingers hard. Harder than I remembered in a long time.

  When my panting finally subsided, I fell into a deep sleep.

  Chapter Three

  The next week in art class, Mr. Thomas made an announcement. “We’re going to be working on a unique project. I’m pairing everyone up to create landscapes. It’s important for artists to learn to work together.” He walked back and forth at the front of the room. “Painting can be such a solitary venture. I’ll be assigning each of you a partner, and you’ll spend the next semester working on a landscape of your choice.”

  One of the student’s hand shot up. “Can the work be a still life instead?”

  Mr. Thomas pursed his lips. “If your partner agrees, I can’t see the harm.” He rubbed his hands together and retrieved a paper from his desk. “Okay, here we go.” He called out the teams, and when he got to me, he said, “Rosalyn, you’ll be working with Eric.” Eric was one of the quieter kids in class, and could sketch like nobody’s business. “Carissa, you’ll be with Dominick.” I glanced at Carissa, and her lips formed a nervous smile. After everyone had been assigned their partner, Mr. Thomas clapped his hands. “Okay class, I want you to move your seats, so you’re next to your teammate.”

  While the rest of the students bustled about, Dominick stood up and strode to Mr. Thomas’s desk. I couldn’t hear what they were saying, but Dominick gestured wildly, then leaning forward and speaking in an earnest tone. Finally, Mr. Thomas and Dominick made their way to Carissa. Mr. Thomas said, “I’ve agreed to switch partners because Dominick feels he needs an advanced painter to guide him in this process.”

  Carissa gazed at Mr. Thomas, her eyes wide.

  “This is my decision, Carissa. And when Dominick proposed the change, I realized that your sketching could use work, and Eric is the best in our class. I’ve seen what Dominick’s capable of, and he needs help with mixing colors. Rosalyn’s the best at that.”

  I allowed myself a sideways glance at Dominick. His green eyes twinkled with mischief, a slow smile spreading across his handsome face. He liked me! Of all the girls in Point Loma High, a great looking guy like Dominick could’ve had his pick. Why me?

  “Eric, come on over,” Mr. Thomas said. “You’ll be working with Carissa.”

  Eric’s face lit up. “Yes, sir!” Carissa gave him a tentative smile.

  Dominick pulled out the chair next to his and gestured for me to sit. I gathered my notebook and sketch pad and made my way to his side. He held the chair while I got settled and then pushed it in. He sat down, his seat a bit too close to mine.

  “What shall we work on Ms. Rosalyn?”

  I cleared my throat and opened my sketchbook, avoiding his hot gaze. “How about an ocean scene?”

  “That’s exactly what I was hoping you’d say.” One hand moved to my back. “Why don’t you show me how to sketch?”

  * * *

  The following day between classes, Dominick found me in front of the school where I stood under the shady ficus tree. He jogged toward me, his athletic body moving like a dancer. “There you are.” He stood a little too close. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you about something.” A few rays of sun penetrated the shade tree, hitting Dominick’s face in a way that accentuated the olive of his skin.

  “What’s up?”

  “I was wondering if maybe we could work on our project after school? We only get such a short time in class.” His face was so lovable, his enthusiasm so sincere, that I wanted to kiss him.

  “Don’t you surf every day after school?”

  “Not every day. Sometimes the waves aren’t good.”

  I did have much better art supplies at home. “I suppose we could do that.”

  “I want this to come out the best. Better than anyone else’s.” His exotic eyes gazed at me with expectation.

  I closed my eyes and mentally squealed while shifting my books to the other arm. “Okay. Meet me here after school and we’ll go to my house.” I shoved him playfully. “You’re not competitive are you?”

  He pointed to himself. “Me? Why, Ms. Rosalyn, what would make you think that?” He gave me a sly grin and reached for my books. “Let me walk you to your next class.”

  I handed the books over, and Dominick walked me to math class.

  * * *

  After school, Dominick waited for me under the shade tree with our work-in-progress canvas. My pulse quickened when I saw him. He broke into a grin that lit up his whole face when he saw me. “There’s the talented artist.” We walked the few blocks to my house as Dominick chatted animatedly about how much he loved surfing, how huge the waves had been over the past few days, and about how he planned on kicking some serious butt when he returned to the pro tour.

  I opened the door, and Sonny mewed piteously, rubbing his body against my leg. “Hey, baby. You hungry?”

  Dominick crouched down. “I love cats.” Sonny raised onto hind legs and bumped his head against Dominick’s chin, purring furiously. “He’s so friendly.” He pet the kitty gently. “Hey there.”

  While I busied myself with feeding Sonny, Dominick landed on the sofa, put his feet up on the coffee table and folded his hands behind his head. “Where are your parents?”

  “Working.”

  “What time will they come home?”

  “A couple of hours.”

  “Good. Plenty of time.”

  The house was way too quiet. What should I say? “Hey, do you like Led Zeppelin?”

  When I walked into the living room, Dominick’s eyes followed my movements. “Sure.”

  I kneeled down in front of our stereo. My throat felt dry, and I smoothed my clothing. I sifted through my parent’s record collection. My voice wavered when I said, “It’s just that they’re my favorite band.”

  He leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “Do you have Led Zeppelin Two?”

  “As a matter of fact …” I quickly found the album, slid it out from the rest, removed the LP, and with shaking fingers placed it on the turntable. Robert Plant’s sensuous voice belted out “Heartbreaker.”

  Dominick leaned back against the sofa. His gaze seared me as he licked his lips and smiled. A tingling sensation swept up the back of my neck. “Want something to drink?”

  He popped up off the sofa. “Let me help you.” He followed me into the kitchen, and I was hyper aware of his every move. We stood in front of the fridge staring at each other. Dominick’
s dark hair spilled over his shoulders, and I wanted to reach out and touch it to see if it felt like silk. I inhaled deeply and caught a whiff of his masculine scent. It was a musky cologne that reminded me of the ocean and the sun. We stood so close that I saw perspiration bead on his upper lip. Dominick looked different than all the other surfers who hung out at the beach. His skin was a dark olive color, and while he sometimes wore faded surf T-shirts, he seemed to prefer those long sleeved button down shirts in flowered fabrics. I touched the cloth.

  “How come you like these shirts so much?”

  He smiled broadly, extending his arms out. “I like having my own style.”

  The shirt opened in front just enough that I spotted a black leather cord hanging around his neck. I hoped he wouldn’t notice that my palms were sweaty when I reached out to touch it, my fingers barely making contact with his muscular chest. “What’s this?”

  He removed the necklace from underneath the shirt to reveal a silver cross and held it up for my inspection. “Like it?”

  My fingers brushed the smooth silver. “I love it.” My body felt uncomfortably warm because we were only inches from touching. I quickly busied myself with opening the refrigerator door and removing a pitcher of lemonade. I spun back around and knocked right into Dominick. “Oh. I … I’m sorry.”

  “I’m not.” He removed the pitcher from my grasp, and our hands touched. Electricity jolted up my spine. Our gazes met, and I stared into his smoldering eyes. “I like standing close to you.”

  I wanted to wrap my body around his. I wanted to rest my hot cheek against the stubble of his face, press his powerful body against mine, let his strong arms hold me in a warm embrace, and feel the brush of his sable hair against my skin. Instead, I looked away and busied myself with the glasses. I reached for the pitcher. “I’ll take that.”

  “Nope. A gentleman waits on a lady.” He poured the drinks, and we carried them into the living room.

  I scampered behind and perched on the sofa as far away from Dominick as I could because I didn’t trust myself. I wanted to devour him. I cleared my throat. “I’ve got some gorgeous paints, and I’ll show you exactly how to mix the colors just right.”

  He took a sip of his drink and his gaze swept the room. Whose bong is that?” The pipe stood on a shelf on the bookcase.

  I wanted to die. My folks had this crazy notion that pot would be legal one day and considered it to be their medicine. The herb that God put on this planet to heal and unite. That proclamation would usually be followed by another playing of Neil Young’s “Heart of Gold.” If I never heard that song again, it would be too soon.

  “It’s my folks’.”

  “Really? They smoke pot?”

  “Yep. They think it’s a natural alternative to pharmaceuticals.”

  He bounced up off the sofa and picked up the bong, taking a long inhale of the bowl. “Can we smoke some?”

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  “Come on. They won’t care. Do you smoke it too?”

  I fiddled with my hair. “No.” I’d seen my parents smoke themselves into marijuana hazes and wanted no part of it.

  He bounced onto the sofa and sat too close to me. “Why not?”

  I kicked him with my bare foot. “Do you?”

  He set the bong down on the coffee table. “Nah. Plenty of guys on the tour smoke. I’ve tried it a couple of times. Not really my thing.” He faced me. “But maybe you and I can give it a try?”

  “Maybe another time. Besides, it’s my parents’ weed.” I stood up. “I’ll get the paints.” I returned with my paints and brush organizer, and Dominick set up the canvas on my easel then spread out the drop cloth. I laid out my palette on a table and showed Dominick the way to arrange everything so that the rainbow of colors lined up correctly. “The best way to get an authentic color is to start with the primaries, then mix the quantities just right by adding the proper amount of white.”

  Dominick stood next to me in rapt attention, nodding and leaning in a bit closer than necessary. He followed my instructions, mixing the paints with a palette knife, dipping in his paintbrush, and moving the brush across the canvas with sure strokes.

  I stood back, my artist’s eye appraising. “Pretty good. Hey, do you mind if I ask you something?”

  He glanced over his shoulder. “What’s up?”

  “Why’d you move to California?”

  He let out a quiet laugh. “I got myself into a bit of trouble on the tour.”

  I mixed red with white to get pink for the sunset. “What happened?”

  He dipped his paintbrush onto the palette, choosing the light blue. “Another surfer cut me off on a perfect wave.” He wouldn’t look at me, instead concentrating on the painting. “That wave would’ve won me the Sundek Classic.” He stared at the canvas. “I suppose you could say I let my temper get the best of me that day.” He smirked. “I didn’t even wait for the horn to blare. When the guy paddled back out to the lineup, I jumped off my board, grabbed the front of his rash guard and punched him so hard I didn’t know if the bleeding would ever stop.” He frowned. “I’m not proud of what happened. My dad always said I needed to rein in my passion. He warned me that I’d get in trouble, and he was right. They suspended me from the tour.”

  Dominick looked so desperately sad for a moment that I wanted to cry. I reached out and tentatively touched his arm. “Oh, no.”

  “The worst part is my mom was there and saw the whole thing.” He set his brush down. “My coach is trying to get them to lift the suspension.” He hung his head. “After the fight, and I guess with all the times I skipped school to surf, my mom thought it would be better if I came here to live with my aunt for a while.”

  “How much would you travel if you were on tour?”

  “I was just getting started, but there’re twenty-four contests a year.”

  “All over the world?”

  He picked up his brush again. “Yep.” He stared at the paintbrush as he held it midway to the painting. “My dad taught me how to surf, and it turned out I had talent.” He gave me a sideways glance, his gaze resting on my breasts, then flicking back up to my face. “Surfing is the bomb. It feels like flying.” His fingers closed around the crucifix, and his brush moved to the canvas. “It’s spiritual. I feel like that’s why I was put here, to be one with the ocean. Being on the pro tour is all I’ve ever wanted.” I watched Dominick’s fingers as they gripped the brush. His hands were masculine, and I imagined what they’d feel like caressing my naked body. “What about you? What’s your passion?”

  “I just want to paint.”

  He gazed at me a few beats too long. “Anything else?”

  “Well, I do like to practice yoga and experiment with my healing crystals.”

  “What’re healing crystals?”

  I licked my bottom lip. “They’re stones I use to align myself with the earth’s energies.”

  He gave me a slow smile. “Well, that’s cool. Do they work?”

  I picked up my paintbrush. “I’ll let you know when I find out.”

  He gazed at me for a long time. So much time that I felt uncomfortable. His paintbrush nodded in my direction. “You’re different than I expected.”

  “How’s that?”

  “All the guys …” He stumbled a bit, almost winced, then started again. “I mean when I first met you I knew you were beautiful, but I didn’t know you had all these talents.”

  I wrinkled my brow. “What guys?”

  He suddenly became very interested in the painting, his brush moving across the canvas shakily. “I meant to say I love that you’re into things like yoga and crystals.” He whirled around and flashed a smile. “And I was right about you being beautiful.” His hand reached out and stroked my hair. “I love your curls. You look like a model.” We stared at each other, and I thought he might kiss me. But he didn’t.

  I cleared my throat and held my brush aloft. “Let’s get back to it.”

  We
went back to work on the ocean scene, and I felt the familiar thrill of creation as Dominick’s warm body worked alongside mine. I’d only just met Dominick, and even though there was undeniable sexual tension, I felt an ease around him, an affinity I’d never felt with other guys. I’m not sure what it was, but it was like he recognized something in me that was within himself; a smoldering sensuality? A passion for life and nature? Whatever it was, I felt that he understood the core of me. If it’s possible to fall hard and fast for a man, then that’s exactly what I did.

  We became so lost in the painting that I almost didn’t hear my mom open the front door and walk into the room.

  “Hey, sugar!” She bustled into the living room, laden down with grocery bags. Dominick turned around, and she eyed him up and down. “Who’s your friend?”

  He smiled a charismatic smile. “I’m Dominick.” He moved to her side. “Let me take those.”

  “Why thank you, dear.” She handed over the bags, and he carried them into the kitchen.

  I somehow felt like a kid caught with my hand in the cookie jar. My feelings for Dominick were difficult to hide. In a too high-pitched voice, I said, “Dominick and I have an art assignment together.”

  Mom surveyed Dominick. “Are you a painter?”

  “No ma’am. Not really. I’m a surfer. But Rosalyn’s teaching me.”

  “If there’s one thing my daughter knows it’s her way around a canvas.” She drifted to the coffee table and reached for her bong. “You don’t mind if I toke up, do you?”

  Dominick said, “Of course not. I hear marijuana’s going to be legal one day. And it’s about time. It’s the one thing that can really help people. Keep them away from all those harmful pharmaceuticals.”

  Dominick was a smooth operator. I could’ve learned a thing or two from him. Maybe if I gave my mom lip service, we wouldn’t have so many heated fights.