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"You asked to see me?" Despite the fact that the woman of his dreams stood there looking at him, dressed only in a towel, with a heat in her eyes that would burst any thermometer; despite the fact that in about three seconds he would have a very visible pop-tent going on with the towel because of that look; that was the part his shocked mind latched on to. He even forgot that Barrett and Shannon were still in the doorway watching with wide eyes and amused expressions. She had asked to see him. Holy shit!
"I wanted to thank you for putting out the fire at my parents' house," she said, and he felt his dick sigh in disappointment. She wanted to thank him. Not invite him to that house for a dinner that would lead to hot, slippery sex in the bedroom. Which would then lead to another night of hot, slippery sex and another and another. Which would then lead to him asking for her hand in marriage and a lifetime of nights of that hot, slippery sex.
He looked at her--at her long blond hair, sweet rounded breasts that stretched the material of her maroon crop top, the gold loop bellybutton ring that showed above the very low cut waistline of her very short shorts--and wanted to cry. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Barrett tap Shannon on the shoulder, cock his head, and the two tiptoed out of the doorway leaving him alone ... with her! He was alone with Veronica Abbott in the locker room of the station house wearing only a towel and she ... He looked down her body again. Hell, she wasn't wearing much more than he!
The realization of that shocked him into confusion. The Veronica Abbott he remembered would never be dressed the way this woman was. She would never bestanding in front of a man who wore nothing but a towel and looking at him as though she willed that towel to drop, either.
"I should get dressed," he said quickly and turned to walk to his locker.
"Don't do that on my account," she said, and he stopped, turned. Though he had only taken a few steps, she had followed. She stood close, too close. When she spoke, her voice reverberated with arousal. "I like you this way. Although, if you want my opinion, I think you're still wearing too much."
Dean was flabbergasted. Sweet Jesus, the woman was coming on to him! His wildest, most crazed fantasy was coming true--no, even his fantasies couldn't have created a moment like this--and he was too stunned to know what to do. He stared down at her, knowing all his bewilderment and shock were etched in his expression, and waited. For what, he didn't have a clue.
She laughed. The sound was both musical and sultry. No doubt, the woman could make a fortune on one of those 900 sex lines. "Dean Wolcott, you're looking at me as though you aren't sure if you want to rip off my clothes or run for the door."
"I'm not sure," he admitted when he finally managed to find his voice.
"Lacy told me you aren't the wild adventurous boy you once were, but I didn't believe it." She stepped even closer until their bodies touched. He could feel the heat radiating from her, smell the subtle hint of her sweet perfume.
"I'm not that boy anymore, Veronica."
She clucked her tongue, lifted a hand, and trailed a fingernail down the center of his bare chest igniting a blazing fire in its wake. "And isn't that a shame. You know, I always had the biggest crush on you." Her finger stopped when it reached the barrier of the towel, paused, and he felt his eyes widen before the finger began slowly moving up again. "But you never would talk to me. Why was that, Dean?"
"I valued my life," he said, his voice husky to his ears. God, she drove him mad! He fisted his hands at his sides to keep from touching her, because once he got his hands on her, he knew he wouldn't be able to pry them off ... ever! "I may have been a bit wild, but I didn't have a death wish. Your parents would have had my head on a chopping block for even trying to get near you."
"But my parents aren't here now. They have no control over me anymore." She flattened her hand on his chest, slid it down again. But this time she didn't allow the towel to stop her descent. She continued, and when her fingers wrapped around his cock, he felt his breath lodge in his throat.
"Oh, my God," he whispered as her hand began to stroke him.
She smiled up at him. "Not quite, but I guess you can call me a goddess if you wish, though Veronica will be sufficient enough."
"Veronica, what--" She squeezed his dick, not too hard but just enough pressure to have his eyes rolling back in his head ... and he completely forgot everything. He forgot that he was in the locker room of the station where one of the guys could walk in at any given time, that he was completely naked with his dick in a woman's hand, that the woman was Veronica Abbott--a woman that he had no business being within twenty feet of much less close enough to have his dick in her hand--and lost himself in the moment.
He reached for her, but when he attempted to lean down for a kiss, she evaded him, kissing his chest instead. She licked her way through his chest hair to his nipple, fondled it with her tongue, sucked and all the while pumped his dick with her hand.
"I dreamed of doing this to you," she said against his chest. "This among other things of course. You were my teenage fantasy fuck. I bet you never would have guessed that."
"Not in my wildest dreams," he murmured.
"Was I ever in your wildest dreams, Dean?"
"Every single one."
"Then you won't mind if I make one of those dreams come true," she said, and for a moment, he was confused again. Then he felt her begin to slide down, felt her soft lips as they planted kisses down his abs and stomach and--
Holy God! She wasn't going to--but oh yes, she was. She had sunk to her knees in front of him and was licking his cock. Her tongue trailed lightly from the base of his dick, so agonizingly slowly to its head that it made him whimper. Her tongue lapped at the pre-cum it found there, and she made an "Mmmm" sound.
"You taste so good Dean," she said between licks.
"Veronica." He nearly hissed her name. "We shouldn't--"
"Do you want me to stop?" Her tongue circled the head of his dick, delved in the tiny opening at its tip, then slowly pulled away.
"God no!" He gasped and heard her soft laugh.
"Do you want more?"
Her hand wrapped around the base of his cock and she gave it a gentle squeeze. Then in one quick, knee locking, brain jarring, control-shattering stroke, she sucked him into her mouth all the way to his balls.
"Shit!" He gasped on a quiet whoosh of surprised air. He felt her smile around his dick even as she began to fuck him with her mouth. He had a big dick, and he half expected her to choke, but she didn't. She opened the back of her throat, pulling him further inside the wet warmth of her mouth.
And he moved one step closer to Heaven. He wanted to touch her, wanted to feel her, wanted to drive her as mad as she was driving him. But he couldn't move. It felt too dammed good. Where had this woman learned to suck a dick like this?
He felt the pressure building and tried to ward it off. Did she expect him to cum in her mouth? He didn't know and couldn't find enough of his scruples to ask. "Veronica," he managed, hoping she could hear the warning in his tone.
If she heard the warning she ignored it. She lightly grazed her teeth up the length of him, and then sucked him harder all the way down, reaching at the same time to cup his balls.
"Sweet Jesus." He breathed. Whether she wanted him to cum in her mouth or not, there was no way he could stop it.
She obviously sensed it, too, because she picked up pace, sucking him faster, fondling his balls in the palm of her hand until he shot his seed into her mouth. She continued to fondle and suck until he was completely drained, and then he felt her stand. Slowly, he opened his eyes, forced himself to focus. She was watching him, her eyes intent, her mouth closed. Then she visibly gulped, and he realized she had been holding his cum in her mouth until he could watch her swallow it. The sight very nearly had his dick growing hard again.