Molten Core - Sex Stories

Molten Core

... There was also a vague sense of recognition, and Eve wondered where she could possibly know him from. He smiled his damn near perfect, cherub's bow lips and said, “Are you the artist, Miss...?” “Cooper. Eve Cooper. Yes, this is my gallery,” her throat felt dry as she spoke, despite the entire bottle of water she'd downed in the workshop. She'd automatically presented her hand, and when he took it to shake, she felt her body simply respond. He seemed to hold her hand for a moment longer than was proper or expected, as his eyes continued to bore into hers. “James Stone,” he said, and Eve could have sworn she felt his thumb caress the sensitive skin of her hand. Then, as if a spell had been broken, he released her hand and looked away, around the gallery. Eve took a slow, hopefully surreptitious breath, then turned away, walking behind the sales and display case at the rear of the small gallery. James looked around for another moment, then returned his gaze to Eve, smiling as he said, “I'm looking for a rather unique gift.” Eve sighed inwardly, chiding herself for the mild disappointment. She smiled and said, “You've definitely come to the right place. Is the gift for a male or a female friend?” He chuckled softly, holding her eyes as he said, “A woman. I believe you know her. Meredith Hensley?” He smirked. “I lost a bet, and she got to pick her Christmas present.” Eve's eyes went wide, her lips forming a quiet 'oh' sound. “Of course. That's how I know you. I think we've ...

... crossed paths at a party or two.” She cleared her throat and looked away before continuing, “Um, what does Jared have to say about it?” James smiled at her apparent discomfort and answered, “Oh, he's tickled. Says I'm getting my comeuppance. I think he's looking forward to the result.” That made Eve laugh momentarily. She leaned her elbows on the display counter and covered her face with her hands, the giggle in her throat making her shoulders shake slightly. Finally, a modicum of propriety returned, and she looked back at him a bit sheepishly. He was distracted, and Eve realized that when she had leaned on the counter, her top had gaped at the neck, dipping low to reveal quite a bit of creamy white cleavage. Clearing her throat, Eve straightened, and found herself once again caught in that golden stare, only this time it was significantly hotter. “So,” she said, feeling her cheeks warm at his continued stare, “did she give you a specific item to look for, or is that up to you?” “Actually, it's up to you,” he said, a wicked smile turning his face into a sinfully beautiful thing. “She said I should ask the artist what her favorite was. So, Eve? Tell me. What's your favorite?” Now her cheeks were well and truly flaming. She swallowed, her eyes drifting all over the gallery. It didn't help. Everywhere she looked, her eyes landed on examples of her work. Eve designed, created and sold her own custom line of glass dildos. There were big ones, small ones, rippled ones and studded ones, ...