Vanilla Dom to Vanilla on Top!

A lot of you read the beginning of this contemporary erotic romance as I was creating it. Some of you found chapters through my Facebook Author Page and others through the Kindle blog Everything Erotic. I’m thrilled beyond belief to finally share the finished book with all of you. The manuscript that was originally named Vanilla Dom has been renamed and is up for sale asVanilla on Top!

Early reviews have been fantastic—which I owe in large part to my fabulous street team of readers. Thank you, ladies and gents, for helping to spread the word on my very first romance title! Without your help and support I’d never have made it this far.

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You can find the $2.99 eBook of Vanilla on Top at Amazon (US, UK and Canada among others), Kobo, and Barnes & Noble. Availability in Apple’s iStore will follow soon. There are no print copies of VoT at this time. I’m terribly sorry for the inconvenience, there may be a print version to follow at a much later date.

Without further ado, here is the first chapter in all its sexy and sassy goodness. Enjoy!

~~Not for Readers Under 18~~


Chapter One

Heather

The bartender approaches us, carrying our drinks, a lopsided grin on his aging face. “Gin and tonic?”

“That’s me,” I reply, reaching for the squat glass.

He sets a wineglass in front of Carla. She accepts it with a nod and turns her perky blondness my way. “Who orders a mixed drink at a wine bistro?”

My best friend forgets, I’m not nearly as bold as she is and often require stronger fortification for my nerves. “Sometimes wine doesn’t cut it.”

The elegant room fills with bodies, and my temperature rises. So many handsome guys, I’m afraid to open my mouth and trip on my tongue. What in the hell possessed me to try this type of outing again?

Carla eyes the variety of men pouring through the double doors. “Linda outdid herself with tonight’s event. There weren’t this many hotties at the last one. But then again, it wasn’t run by Linda.”

I shudder at the memory of the first speed-dating attempt she dragged me to.

God, I'd felt like such an idiot.

I clearly blocked the humiliation of how no one wanted a date with me afterward. Then again, the prospect of being alone the rest of my life doesn’t sit well either.

“Yup, our lovely organizer did a great job with the men showing up tonight.” I force a laugh to hide my awkwardness. “Maybe one will even call me later.”

“Hey, cut that long hair into some semblance of a style and you might have the same luck Julie did.”

I self-consciously tuck a strand of fine black hair behind one ear. I have no intention of getting a cute pixie haircut like Carla’s. The long locks are one of the few things I like about myself. “Your sister lucked out with her hotshot property developer, but let’s be real. Most of the good ones in this city are gay or married.”

“Not true! I refuse to think there are no good ones left.” She nudges me with her shoulder while pointing her glass at some of the men around the room. “Take a good look. I bet there are at least six here who aren’t married, or gay and looking for a beard.”

I gaze at my friend and appraise her good-naturedly. With curvy good looks and a low cut blouse, she has a much better chance of snagging a guy than I do.

Linda, the busty brunette in her forties who organized the event, waves at us from across the bar, gesturing we should head over to the tables like she explained earlier. Carla and I select small, two-seater tables next to each other, sliding into the cushioned chairs at almost the same time.

“Smile, Heather,” Carla says with a cheeky grin. “You’ll do fine.”

“Oh, yeah.” I hold back my grimace, reminding myself of the free booze. Maybe, if I drink enough, I’ll say something charming and one of these men will choose me for a date. “I’m sure I will.”

Carla leans over and swats my arm playfully. “Step out of your comfort zone, girl. Slip on a new skin while you’re here.”

Putting on a brave face, I nod. “I’ll try.”

I swirl the thin red straw in my gin and tonic while looking over the prospective men. There’s a tall, dark, and gorgeous one in the corner. He’s sporting a blinding white smile, offset nicely by his cocoa-colored skin, deep brown hair, and sharp casual jacket. Yum. My lips tilt up at the corners. He looks in my direction and I drop my glance to the clipboard on the table in front of me. I’d die if he caught me staring at him.

Carla once labeled me a “doormat” while we were commiserating over my past relationships. She might have been right. I’m always bending over backward, sometimes literally, to make a guy happy. And what has it earned me? An empty bed, lonely nights, and lots of meals for one in my freezer. I take a long sip of my drink.

Maybe I should slip on a new skin. Honestly, this current one isn’t working too well. I stiffen my spine as I glance once more around the wood-paneled space. I know there’s a guy out there for me. I just have to find him.

Two men arrive together, one looking slightly more harried than the other. The first one is sandy-haired and built like a runner, slim hipped and lean. His tailored, pinstriped suit still looks fresh at eight o’clock. He’s got a dimple in his chin and an infectious grin as he looks around the room at the available ladies.

Quite a few women look older than me, so even if I’m not stunning, I’m still sitting near the top of prospects for the evening. This may turn out to be my lucky night, yet. The man behind the runner makes me pause. He’s easily the best looking guy in the bistro. And sure enough, by the way heads are turning, I’m not the only one who notices him.

Though slightly shorter than his lanky friend, he must outweigh him by thirty pounds or so. His lean middle implies that extra bulk is all muscle. He’s…arresting. Sable-brown hair, cut short and styled in a lazy fashion that somehow looks professional on him. His charcoal suit drapes across his broad shoulders and defines his narrow waist like it was custom-made. His white shirt contrasts with his Mediterranean complexion, and when he looks up at his friend’s teasing tone, I get a glance at his light brown eyes and chiseled cheekbones. What I wouldn’t give to run my fingers through his hair and kiss him senseless.

I shift in my chair, aware of a growing dampness in my panties. God, how embarrassing. To be drawn to a man I’ve never talked to and who is obviously way out of my league. I probably don’t have a snowball’s chance in hell of attracting his attention. I wish I had something prettier on. This slim black skirt and snug spring sweater might emphasize my build nicely, but I’m betting it will take cleavage and a lot of leg to attract a man like him.

My eyes shift sideways to Carla sitting next to me. The deep vee of her shirt showcases her plump, high breasts perfectly, and her tousled pixie-hair simply screams, I’m a fun girl, date me.

A small part of my eagerness for the night deflates over my chances of meeting him compared to hers. The two good-looking friends finish their paperwork and saunter to the bar. What am I really doing here? Sure, I might have a chance of meeting a guy for a midnight hook-up, but really…speed dating?

Makes me wonder—what’s wrong with these guys if they can’t find a date on their own?Shut up, Heather! I scream at myself. You sabotage everything before it even starts!

All right, all right, some of the men could be normal. I sip my drink and scan the room once more. The only decent ones here are the man with the blinding smile, the runner, and Mister Italian Stallion with the sexy bed hair who came in last. A sigh escapes me as I realize I’m close to drooling. Each one of them looks utterly delicious and I pray they’ve got brains behind the pretty faces and gorgeous bodies.

Now, if I can just say something interesting to one of them in the allotted two minutes, I might have a chance.

Linda stands near the middle of the bar area and raises her arm. “Attention Speed Daters!” All eyes turn toward the organizer. “We’re ready to begin. You all know the guidelines. Make polite conversation, ask questions that matter to you, make notes on your card, and move on. All in good fun!” She smiles and nods to a few of the participants around the room. “You never know. You just may meet your one and only match tonight.”

I sigh and plaster on a happy face. Still better than sitting home alone with another microwave meal, so I’m not going to complain. I slurp the last of my drink through the tiny straw. Damn. Need to take advantage of that free booze or it will definitely be a ruined evening.

After getting a refill at the bar, I saunter back to my little table for two, ready to meet my first “date” of the evening. Mr. Serial Killer in Training sits across from me and immediately asks if I’m a vegetarian…thank God for my second drink. I glance down the line to see who will be shifting to my table next. A shudder runs through me as I take another sip. Hopefully the alcohol will make meeting Sloppy Guy and Blinding Smile a little easier to bear.

In thirty minutes, the Italian Stallion slides into the chair at my table. He’s just come from sitting with Carla and wears a smile from ear to ear. A lump forms in my throat from looking at him close up.

A small scar traces the left side of his jaw, its pale color faded with age. I’d like to hear the story behind the old wound. His full lips look soft enough to kiss and his classic Roman nose would be better suited on an Abercrombie model than a businessman in Manhattan.

His eyes glide over me, a slight spark of what I hope is interest in their depths. A flare of awareness ignites in my chest. The man’s charming grin remains in place. A good sign so far. Right as he opens his kissable mouth to speak, his phone rings. His relaxed expression turns into a grimace as he digs in his pocket to retrieve the offending device.

“Sorry,” he mumbles my way before answering. He turns slightly in his seat, angling himself away. “Yes?” He barks into the phone. “No, I won’t be back in tonight. The instructions are in the email I sent.”

At least I had the decency to turn off my phone before I came in. Hell, unless you’re a doctor on call, I doubt there’s anything that important requiring your phone to stay on for two hours. He looks into the distance and I feel a twinge of annoyance.

“No,” his tone grinds out, authoritative and powerful. “You need to listen to me, Brian. The directions are in the email. You follow them precisely and the deal will close. Call me again and I’m going to be really pissed.”

He clicks his phone shut and closes his eyes. Tension spills off him and I hesitate to break the silence. What could be so important that he feels the weight of the world on his shoulders? He takes a deep breath and opens them again, staring straight into my eyes.

“I’m sorry, that was rude of me.” He angles toward me. I nod my reassurance that it’s okay, but inside I can’t help but think I’ve lost even more of my precious allotted time with this desirable stranger. He really is way out of my league.

“You know what I want more than anything?” he says with a touch of longing. “I want someone else to take control for a while. I’m really sick of being the guy in charge all the time.”

I smile, not particularly sure I can relate, but willing to appear understanding. His phone rings again and sharp anger stabs my gut.

“Turn it off,” I say, with a challenge in my tone. I sit up straighter and stare into the depths of his caramel eyes. “You want someone to tell you what to do?” He nods, his calculating gaze on me as the phone continues to ring. “Turn off that damn phone,” I bite out, pretending I’m issuing a command. “Now.”

Shock registers across his expression, but he hides it quickly. I raise an eyebrow and feel the sparks fly across the table between us. He returns my stare and smiles, the first real one I’ve seen on him since he came into the restaurant. It’s kind of lopsided and lazy, curling my toes at the devilment it promises. The phone rings a third time and I break our standoff and glance away, tilting my chin an inch higher, showing my displeasure in his lack of action. He fumbles for the phone on the table between us and shuts it off.

My pulse races and a part of me waits for him to shout that I’m the rudest bitch he’s met tonight. Well, I tried my hand at ballsy and domineering—worth a shot. I look toward him and smile, catching him off guard, if his raised eyebrows are anything to go by. The interest I thought I saw earlier still lurks in his eyes.

Hmmm… Maybe tonight won’t be a total wash after all.

I pick up my drink and tilt it toward him in greeting. “I’m Heather.”

He raises his to meet mine and clinks it across the space. “Tony.”

“What do you do, Tony, that has people calling you after office hours?”

He stiffens and his tone comes out flat. “I head acquisitions in a large shipping conglomerate. We’re organizing to buy out a small firm this week.”

I nod, not sure if knowing what he does matters. He seems wired pretty tight, poor guy. “Who did you arrive with, that guy with the sandy-colored hair?”

Tony lifts a brow and interest lights his expression. “Why?” His grin broadens. “You want me to introduce you?”

I stare back at him with a feigned confidence I don’t possess. “I’ll meet him soon enough, won’t I?”

“Touché.” He touches the timer on the table. “We are speed dating.”

“That’s why I asked. You don’t seem like the type to be here.”

“Probably not, but Marcus talks me into lots of stuff I might not normally try on my own. He’s an old college buddy. Dragged me here ‘cause he said I needed a break from work.”

I glance down my nose at his phone, angling my head a bit. “He might be right.”

“And hey—what makes you think I’m not the type to try speed dating on my own?” he asks, a twinkle in his eye.

This man doesn’t know me from Adam. I could be anyone in this moment, anyone who is brash enough to tell a stranger to turn off his phone. Carla said to slip on a new skin…maybe she was onto something…

Nothing ventured, nothing gained.

I reach across the table and trace a finger down the back of his hand. “You’re wound too tight,” I say, dropping my voice, trying for a seductive tone. “Like you’re going to snap.” I gaze at him through my lashes, hoping I can pull off a sexy look like I’ve seen in movies. “What you need is to let off a little steam.”

Desire sparks in his caramel eyes and he turns his hand over to grasp my own. “Really? What did you have in mind?” Tiny shocks of pleasure shoot up my arm at our increased contact.

The two-minute timer dings and the prospective dates around the room say their goodbyes and shift out of their chairs, eager to move on to the next person down the line.

I shrug and pull my hand away. “Why don’t you follow me to the patio and find out?”

There’s no doubt I’ve peaked his curiosity. I pick up my drink, still staring into his stunning eyes, and circle my tongue around the tiny swizzle stick before slipping the red plastic into my mouth for a taste of my drink.

Tony’s lips part in an exhalation of breath, his stare locked on my mouth.

I smile at his expression, pleased I’ve made an impression. He seemed to like when I told him what to do. I wonder how far I can take this with him willing to follow. I slide from my chair, now glad I wore a pencil skirt that emphasizes my butt, and walk out of the room without a backward glance, hoping he takes the bait.

My black stiletto heels rap against the marble tile of the bistro as I swish my hips toward the narrow door leading to the closed outside seating in the rear of the restaurant. I push the door open and step through. The metal door whisks shut behind me. It’s early spring and unseasonably warm outside tonight, but still too early for the bistro to have the area set up for receiving diners.

My heart races as I lean against the cool brick. What the hell am I doing, trying a stunt like this in a public place? Will he come out here? If he does, what do I do then? Anyone could walk out here, and by the full ashtray on a stack of tables, the probability of it being a smoker is high.Ten minutes. All you need is ten minutes.Can I talk my way through this? Well, why the hell not? If he follows me out here then I’ve definitely intrigued him enough to learn more about me. But how do I set myself apart from the countless women who’ve probably already thrown themselves at him?

The door creaks open and Tony steps out. You can do this, Heather. Take command. Tell him what you want. Tell him what to do, just like he said he wants. Now or never.

I smirk with a confidence I’m not completely feeling. “Nice of you to join me, Tony.” I relax against the brick and check him over from head to foot, making sure he knows with just my eyes exactly how desirable I find him. You can do this, don’t panic. He won’t laugh at you.

I nod toward the stacked chairs. “Take off your coat.” He slips the expensive garment from his shoulders, pulling the starched fabric of his shirt across his defined chest. I nod my approval and his eyes glint with desire in the dimming light.

He smiles, seemingly eager to play whatever game I’ve got in mind. “Anything else?”

I push down my inner anxiety and grin, in what I hope is a teasing manner. “Your tie.”

His eyebrows shoot up, but he loosens the knot and pulls the material free. The red silk slides over his shirt, and then is tossed carelessly toward his coat.

Holy crap, he’s doing it. He’s listening to me. What now?

“Unbutton the top two buttons of your shirt.” The command springs unbidden to my thoughts.

He complies and reveals the golden skin below his throat, with a few stray chest hairs visible near the neck of his undershirt. He looks so good I’d like to grab his shirt and rip it open, licking the skin as it’s uncovered.

Holy cow, where did that come from? I’m not this aggressive woman I’m pretending to be.

“How’s that?” he asks.

My pulse pounds so loudly in my ears I can only nod, afraid I’ll give too much away if I answer. I clear my throat, reaching for nonchalance. “It’ll do.” My hands slide to my hips and I take the plunge, pouring every ounce of courage I possess into my next actions.

I grab my skirt’s black material and work it slowly up my thighs. Tony’s eyes grow round as he follows my movements.

“Get down on your knees,” I say, forcing out my voice in a firm tone. Keep it together, girl! He looks like he’s game. Keep going.

I tug the fabric up, until my skirt scrunches up around my waist and my black lace underwear is bared to the night air. The handsome man’s breath rushes out and I worry he’s going to balk, leaving me here with my skirt rucked up like a fool.

The intensity of the sexual moment overwhelms me a bit and I slide a finger over my heated mound, teasing the aroused flesh underneath. Desire pushes me to be bold. “Did you not hear me, Tony?” Strength pours into my voice, making me sound more sure of myself than I feel. God, if he laughs at me now, I’ll die.

Tony steps closer and sinks to the cobblestone terrace, reaching with two eager hands toward my hips. He buries his face in my crotch and breathes deeply. “You smell so good.” He rubs his cheek back and forth against my panties. “What do you want me to do?”

A shudder ripples through me as the breath of his whispered voice warms my skin through the thin lace. He wants me to tell him what to do. I can do this.

“Kiss me,” I rasp, my voice barely above a whisper.

His soft lips press against the thin garment as the heat from his flesh teases me higher. My every sense feels on high alert during this encounter. I’ve never done anything so daring in my entire life. The next kiss presses harder and little shocks of arousal dart through my core.

“That’s nice,” I say, resisting the primal urge to grind myself into his face. “But I need more.”

I glance down into Tony’s light brown eyes and see an intensity I’ve never seen on a man’s face. To know it’s directed toward me feels even more amazing. “Tell me what you want.” His hot hands skate up my thighs to rest near the aroused juncture between my legs.

I feel the wetness pooling in my panties, my body eager and ready to be with this man I just met. More than anything I want his fingers teasing me to a release. “Slip your thumbs under my underwear and stroke me.”

He pulls his hot lips away from the damp cotton panel of my panties and breathes deep. “Yes, ma’am.”

A prickling ignites my skin, sending the hairs on end when he calls me ma’am. I like it.

I like it a lot.

Two thick digits slide under the delicate fabric, one angling for my aroused bud and one slipping deeper toward my waiting wetness. A jolt of pleasure rips through me the second his thumb makes contact with my clit. An instant later, his other thumb presses against my tight opening.

“You’re very wet.” His voice rumbles into the evening, almost reverent, like I’m a precious object he’s not sure how to handle. “I want to taste you.”

“Not yet.” There’s no way I could handle his mouth right now. I’d lose it completely and my credibility on driving the bus in this scenario would blow up in my face. My breath hitches and I gather myself, aiming for calm, cool and collected. “Only when I say.”

A moan of protest echoes into the night, cutting off when his hungry kisses pepper my thighs. My legs widen of their own accord and I slide down the cool brick a fraction of an inch, heedless of the snags my clothes will receive. The stiffness of his thumb pushes deep inside me and after a few plunges a small groan erupts from my lips.

It’s been months since I’ve been with anyone. I’m so turned on by this man doing exactly what I want, what I told him to do, that I fear I won’t last long. The slick pressure on my clit starts to circle, driving me even higher.

“Come here and kiss my mouth,” I say. His hands pull away and I feel bereft of his touch. I hastily add, “Don’t stop touching me. Use your fingers instead.”

In a flash, the sexy businessman stands, ravaging my mouth with a passion I’ve never had directed toward me. A deep rumble sounds in his throat while his lips cover mine. The frenzied action reveals his pent-up arousal and desire, and I’m almost giddy with the power surge I feel. He truly wants me. Not just what I can do for him, but wants me and what I’m making him feel. What a rush!

Two slick fingers pump into my sex while Tony sucks on my bottom lip, nipping it once in his haste. He leans in to deepen the kiss and the length of his erection presses against my hip. I want nothing more than to tell him to take me right here—to beg this gorgeous man to do me until I scream his name—but a part of my brain still holds on to the act.

I bet he can have any woman he wants any time. I need to stand out from the others. For once, I want to be the desired one. My mind empties as exquisite waves of pleasure build and spill through my limbs.

I break the intense kiss to focus on what I need to do. “On your knees,” I whisper. “Now.”

Tony complies and gazes up at me with an eager look on his face. “Yes?”

“Pull the lace aside and lick me.”

The evening air brushes against my heated flesh before his hot tongue laps at my engorged button. One firm hand holds the material aside while the other pumps steadily in and out of me.

A moan of delight drifts out as Tony’s clever tongue zeros in on my clit, pushing me beyond all boundaries of pleasure. My breath hitches again and Tony moves faster, plunging his fingers in me furiously while sucking my bud between his lips. His pointed tongue tickles the aroused skin, and the combined sensations propel me up and over the edge.

An intense release rips through me, lighting my nerve endings and sending shudders to cascade over my body. Tony eases his movements, gently tonguing my wet flesh.

Warmth infuses me as I collapse against the bricks, panting for breath. I can’t believe what I’ve just done. And in public! I’ve essentially had sex with a stranger. A drop-dead gorgeous stranger, but a stranger nonetheless. Granted, it was one-sided sex, but still not something I’ve ever done.

Tony eases my panties back in place before standing. The arousal engulfing his entire body makes his movements stiff. Even in the dim light, I see the outline of his protruding cock straining against his tailored slacks.

A smile curves my lips as the prefect response to the evening comes to me. Damn. Can I pull this off? We’ll have to see.

I slide my skirt down my hips, smoothing the creases out with the flat of my hand. “You did a good job.” Tony smiles and reaches for me, but I side step out of his grasp. “Next time might be your turn.” My face sets into a distant mien of confidence I’ve never felt before. “Give me your number. Maybe I’ll call.”

~~*~~
You can find the $2.99 eBook of Vanilla on Top at Amazon (US, UK and Canada among others), Kobo, and Barnes & Noble. Availability in Apple’s iStore will follow soon. 

Thanks for taking the time to read the first chapter. It is my sincerest hope you enjoyed it enough to give Vanilla on Top a try. Trust me, it only gets better (and hotter) after this!

Comments welcome! I’m always excited to hear what readers have to say.
~C.J.

Guest Blogger - Danielle Ravencroft!

Content Advisory: m/f sex.

Ophelia Martinez has a chance encounter with internationally famous rock-star, Trace Curtis. To Ophelia, Trace will always be the charming boy she met in high school. They share one night together in which Trace falls in love with Ophelia. But Ophelia knows she can’t continue to live in the past, at least not with the secret that haunts her present.

A Trace of Love excerpt:

Ophelia scowled. “Why are you doing this?”

Trace blinked in confusion. When he spoke, his voice was no longer playful, but deep and serious. “Why am I doing what?”

Ophelia looked him straight in the eyes. “Why, Trace Curtis, lead singer of Molten Silk, are you sitting here talking to me when you could be with any girl in world?”

He was very still for a long time, staring at her through narrow eyes. Just when she thought he might recognize her, he said, “Is that all I am to you? A famous name?”

Ophelia sighed, her heart breaking at the new direction the night headed. “Trace, we’re strangers. We don’t mean anything to each other.”

“Maybe I meant to change that. Maybe I wanted to mean something to you,” he mumbled. Ophelia stared, momentarily shocked. Trace sighed and stood. “I should go.”

Ophelia shot to her feet, grabbed Trace’s shirt with both hands, and yanked him toward her, planting her lips on his mouth.

Trace didn’t miss a beat. He placed one hand on her waist and one behind her head, his fingers tangling in her hair. He held her tight, their lips melding together. His tongue gently parted her mouth a little wider and glided over hers in a slow, circular motion. His breath tasted like cinnamon gum, warm against her lips. Her hands slid along his chest and wrapped around his neck where she ran her fingers through his soft black curls.

His hands slid under her blouse, leaving trails of heat on her skin as they explored every inch of her abs and lower back. He reached up and unhooked her bra. One hand slid under the lace and massaged her breast. A tender, callused thumb traced circles around her nipple until it tightened and puckered under his touch. Damp warmth began to tingle between her legs as his other hand reached down, over her jeans, and gently squeezed her butt.

Trace deepened their kiss; pressing so hard against her she thought she might fall backward on the bed. Heat burned through her clothes where their bodies touched; his chest, abs, and hips aligned with hers. She felt the bump of his desire through his jeans, pushing against her thigh.

Her trembling hands reached for the hem of his shirt, but she fumbled, forgetting about his coat. Trace tore himself away from her and yanked off his jacket, his pale blue eyes never wavering from her brown ones. He crossed his arms and pulled his shirt over his head, letting it land on the floor. Ophelia wet her lips and swallowed as she took in his perfectly chiseled pectorals and abs, right down to the sculpted V of his hips.

She pulled off her top, along with her bra. Her cheeks warmed as Trace looked at her, but she refused to hide from him. There wasn’t any point in being shy this far into things. He closed the gap between them and pressed his lips to her forehead while unbuttoning her pants. He got on one knee, kissed her tummy, and pulled her jeans down to her ankles. She stepped out of them, turned and pulled the covers off the bed.

Ophelia slid under the sheets. Smiling, she inclined her head and gestured for him to join her. They lay on their sides, face to face for a moment. He smiled and kissed her nose and forehead. Heat burned where his lips touched her skin. He placed a hand under her jaw, his thumb gliding over her cheek, and pulled her closed to him, kissing her lips. With each kiss, Trace opened his mouth a little wider, dipped his tongue a little further, and held her a little tighter.

She gently pressed her hands against his shoulders, easing him onto his back. Still exploring his mouth with her tongue, Ophelia let her hand glide over his rock solid chest and abs, over his boxers, into the little flap of the crotch. She found the hard, hot length of his sex and freed it from the confines of his underwear. The huge, pulsating flesh flopped against his tummy.

Ophelia glanced at it from the corner of her eye and nearly gasped. She briefly wondered if it would even fit inside her. She stroked it, her fingers trembling at its size. It bobbed against her touch, like a puppy begging to be petted. His skin was so soft and delicate as it stretched thin over the vein. Trace tilted his head back. A soft moan escaped from his lips.

An idea came to Ophelia, one that made her smirk. She sat up and moved next to his hips. She was about to lean over his sex when Trace grabbed her arm. “Wait,” he said while pushing himself up.

Ophelia straightened. “What is it?”

A sheepish grin tugged at the corners of his lips. “I want to be on top.”

Ophelia nodded and lay against the pillows.

“Are you comfortable?” he asked.

She smiled and nodded. “Yes.”

“Close your eyes. No peeking.”

Ophelia snickered, but did as he said. “Promise,” she grinned with her eyes closed. She felt the bed bounce slightly as Trace stood and moved about the room. The light behind her eye lids darkened and she knew he turned off all the lamps. He joined her on the bed once more, sitting by her side. She expected a quick entry, but that proved not to be what Trace had in mind.

Instead, he took her right hand in his and held it up to his mouth. He pressed tiny kisses against the tips of each of her fingers. Then he kissed the palm of her hand, the underside of her wrist, and her forearm, slowly working his way down to the inside of her elbow. His warm, moist breath tickled her skin along her bicep and shoulder.

She breathed deeply and turned her head away as he reached her collar bone. He kissed her neck and took his time nuzzling, sucking the delicate skin between his teeth, playfully nipping. His trail of sweet, burning kisses continued down, between her breasts, down over her upper abs and tummy, down to her groin.

She heard him push the sheets completely away from her. His fingers slipped under the straps of her thong and gently pulled it off. He placed both hands under each of her knees and slowly parted her legs. Every fiber of her being was ready for him; she gripped the bed in anticipation. She wanted to open her eyes, to watch as he worked, but she kept them closed as she’d promised, knowing how much better it would feel.

Trace nipped at the spot where her thigh joined her hip, sending a shiver of goose bumps over her body. He pressed his lips sweetly against her sex, instantly filling her with a tingly heat. Ophelia’s eyes fluttered open just slightly. She reached down to push the soft curls of his hair behind his ear. “Trace….” But she felt him smile against her. His head dipped low and she felt the burning heat of his tongue entering the core of her body.

Her head fell back against the pillow and she moaned as he rolled his tongue from her vagina to her clit. He repeated the motion until her entire sex was slick with moisture. He turned his focus to her clitoris. He massaged it with the tip of his tongue, suckling every so often, until it hardened into a tight little bud. Her core trembled for attention again. Just when Ophelia thought she would scream, Trace pushed his index and middle finger easily inside her, invading and exploring her sex.

Trace continued to massage and suckle her clit. At the same time, he pumped his arm, slowly at first, but then increasing in speed. Ophelia dug her fingernails into the mattress, moaning until she came once, twice, a third time. Trace kept on going. Ophelia trembled under his every touch, almost to the point she thought she might explode. She shuddered so much, she had to gather all her strength just to reach down and pull his face up.

“Trace…I need you inside me.”

He kissed her thigh, his lips glossed over with moisture. “Not yet, trust me.”

When Ophelia came the fourth time, her eyes rolled back, her torso lifted off the bed, and her hips trembled in overwhelming pleasure. When Trace released her, she fell against the bed and tried to catch her breath. Little spasms continued to ripple through her core, aftershocks reminding her body of the pleasure it felt.

Trace lay by her side, patiently waiting for her to collect herself. He pressed his lips to her forehead. “Do you still want me inside you?”

Ophelia faced him, wide-eyed, chest still heaving. “Oh yes.”

He chucked then pulled the covers up and positioned his body over hers. She felt the burning heat of his flesh poke against her tummy. She reached down and stroked it. Her breath caught in her throat. It was even bigger now than when she’d pulled it out of his boxers. Ophelia tried to prepare herself by relaxing her muscles, but she just didn’t think it was possible.

Trace didn’t try to force himself. He kissed her neck and gently messaged her breasts until all the tension melted away, replaced by a familiar warm tingle. Trace pushed his sex inside her a little bit at a time until, finally, she somehow stretched enough to take in all of him. He pulled out and this time, his entire length slick with her moisture, he drove all of it into her core at once.

Ophelia gasped, feeling the most heavenly pain a woman could ever know. He filled her completely, the connection whole, perfect, like two puzzle pieces meant to fit together. She dug her fingernails into his back, drawing blood, but he never flinched.

Somehow, it wasn’t enough. Ophelia wanted more, wanted him deeper. She mumbled her request in his ear. He lifted her into his thick, capable arms, crawled to the head of the bed, and rose to his knees. Her back pressed against the cold headboard. He hooked one arm under her knee and pulled her leg up until her toes pointed to the ceiling. He pumped hard; making sure every inch of himself entered her body with each thrust.

Soon their skin dripped with sweat, gleamed silver in the moonlight filtering through the window. Ophelia and Trace had sex until the sun rose. At some point, Trace took Ophelia’s hand and held it against his chest, directly above his heart. He fell asleep, holding her hand there.

But Ophelia couldn’t rest. At some point while they were supposed to be having casual sex, Ophelia fell in love with Trace Curtis. She knew it. She recognized it. But she couldn’t allow it.

What did she expect him to do, stay in the city with her? Have a real relationship? Marry her? She wasn’t a teenager and this wasn’t a daydream. Hell, she hadn’t had sex with Mathew, her old crush, who was oblivious to her existence. She had sex with Trace Curtis, international rock star. She just slept with a man who was used to sleeping with groupies every night. No, Trace Curtis would get on his tour bus, go to the next venue, perform another show, and have sex with another woman. There would always be an endless supply of willing ladies for Trace Curtis, even if there was never another man for Ophelia. Trace would easily forget about her.

With a heavy heart, Ophelia slid her hand out of his and gently left the bed. She dressed quickly, in silence. She grabbed her shoes and tiptoed out of the hotel room, away from Trace.

~~*~~

Copyright 2011 Danielle Ravencroft

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Patriotica ~ ARMY: Reserves

Content Advisory: the beginnings of a hot scene, but no actual sex.

The elevator bings and the doors whoosh open on my floor. Struggling with my grocery bags, briefcase, and purse, I step into the hall and sneeze. The metal whisks shut behind me as I drop two bags, the contents skittering across the carpet.

“Damn.”

“Hey, Danielle,” comes from behind me. “Need a hand?”

My neighbor down the hall, the one with the shy smile and quiet confidence, squats and picks up a bag of apples. A sigh escapes me as I push my hair out of my face, “Thanks, Steve. It’s been a long week and this is the icing on the cake.”

He and I clean up the mess, wrangling the goods back into their bags. His thigh touches mine as we both reach for a head of lettuce and heat warms my face at the brief contact. I’ve been dying to ask him over for dinner since last month when he moved in, but he’s so nice I can’t tell if he’d say yes or smile at me while he politely declines.

“How about I take these two and you handle the last one?” His light hazel eyes crinkle at the corners on his smile.

“Sure, thanks.” My heart picks up and I worry I’ve got a stupid sappy look on my face. That’s it, idiot, pant after him. No way a clean-cut, handsome guy like him doesn’t have a girlfriend already. Although… I haven’t seen anyone coming and going from his place on the weekends. Not that I’ve been looking or anything.

We stand, me awkwardly trying to look nonchalant, like hot guys always stop to help me when I drop stuff, and he motions me ahead down the hall before him, indicating I should lead the way. Conscious of his eyes on my backside, I try to walk with some elegance and class, glad I’m wearing trousers that make my ass look good.

“How was your week, Dani?”

I love that he’s calling me by my nickname, makes me hope maybe he’s thought of me as more than just his slightly clumsy neighbor. “Not bad. Same old, same old at the insurance company. How about you?” I say, while looking back over my shoulder.

“Climbing trees… taking names,” his tone sounds light and teasing.

“Oh, that’s right. You work with plants, what is it again?” I know exactly what he does; I paid close attention when I first met him, careful to conceal my drool. He specializes in removing and saving trees in dangerous situations. But I want to draw out the conversation, so I pretend I don’t recall.

“Arborist.” At my look of comprehension he goes on to joke in a deeper voice, making it sound like a military slogan in a commercial, “Challenging, hard work, and fun.”

We’re standing in front of my apartment now and I rummage through my purse for the keys. “Are you working this weekend?” I ask, hoping to find the courage to ask him to stay for a drink.

A thump from my apartment draws my attention as I slide the key into the lock.

“Do you live alone, Dani?” Steve asks in a low tone. I nod. “Pets?” I shake my head.

He places the bags on the floor and eases me away from the entrance. Reaching behind his back he pulls out a knife. Long and black, it has a jagged edge on one side near the handle and the blade glints in the bright light of the hall.

I gasp and Steve darts a look in my direction. “Stay out here and to the side, behind the wall.” I nod, my pulse pounding in my throat and adrenaline zipping through my veins. Wetness gathers in my panties and I’m not sure if I wet myself or I’m turned on by Steve’s calm, quick actions. I’m going to go with aroused rather than think I pissed myself in fright.

Steve crouches low and eases the door open, stepping immediately to the side. Footsteps sound from within and then they pick up, like someone is running. Steve bolts away and I can’t see him any longer or know what the heck is going on. A few tense moments later he comes back. “They’re gone.”

“They?”

“I saw two guys heading down your fire escape. A car was right below and I figured chasing them would be a waste of time.”

The blood freezes in my veins. Two guys? In my place? But why? What the hell could I have that they’d want? Maybe they robbed me?

“I’m not sure,” Steve says, making me realize I spoke my rambling fears aloud. “But they trashed your place.”

“What?” I say in shock, pushing past him to enter. Pulled out drawers, ripped up cushions, pictures on the floor, my new flat screen cracked and broken. Tears well in my eyes, it looks like a tornado came through. “But… but… why?”

Steve turns me to face him and pulls me into a hug. “I don’t know. But we need to call the cops.”

I nod my head against his chest, breathing in the outdoorsy scent clinging to his soft, faded t-shirt.

The next few hours proceed like a television crime drama. Patrolmen and a tired looking detective question me—over and over they ask what the men could have been searching for. Honestly, I have no idea. I’m a simple claims adjuster and I tell them everything I know in an effort to help.

Steve stays stoically by my side throughout the entire ordeal and I’m grateful for his presence. He holds my hand, squeezing it now and then to lend strength and occasionally runs a hand up and down my back in a soothing gesture. I’m hyper aware of his nearness and feel safest when he’s sitting by me in the wreckage that has become my home.

“Danielle?” A firm grip on my shoulder brings me crashing back to the here and now. “The police are done and said we can start cleaning up.” I look around at the mess and don’t know where to begin. “They suggested you take pictures for your insurance claim.”

Hysterical laughter bubbles up at the irony. I work for an insurance company and now will be at the mercy of another one to have my life restored.

“I can’t do this right now,” I say, bolting up out of a kitchen chair. “It’s almost midnight and I’m drained.” The thought occurs to me I could pull the bedroom together, sleep, and then tackle the worst of it tomorrow.

The front door snicks shut as the last cop leaves and a new reality races across my mind. Fear creeps up my spine and a shiver courses over me. “What if they come back?”

Steve hugs me again, running his hands over me, “Shhh…. It’s okay. I’m here.”

“I can’t stay here tonight.” My muscles wind tight and my heart thumps loud in my ears. “I’ll check into a hotel.”

“Nonsense. I’ve got two bedrooms, you can stay with me.”

I look into his hazel eyes, wondering if he’s offering out of kindness or he has other plans. I’m not normally the clingy type, but snug against his hard chest I feel like nothing could hurt me. Torn between wanting to run screaming from the building and pinning this sexy man to the wall and kissing him, I nod. God, I hope there is no way in hell he can figure out how hot I am for him.

Invite her back to your place? Are you fucking crazy? How are you going to keep your hands off her? The litany runs through my head, along with others. I haven’t been close to anyone for years, but inviting the traumatized woman to my apartment spilled out before I could lock the words in.

Dani gathers some clothes and toiletries while I grab the grocery bags. We step carefully through the mess of her livingroom and head out the door.

“I’m not working this weekend,” I say.  I’d be happy to help you clean up tomorrow.”

A heavy sigh greets my offer, “Thanks, Steve. I was just thinking of what a nightmare this evening has become.”

We head three doors down the hall and enter my place. Hefting the bags up on the counter, I check for refrigerated goods. “Glad to see we didn’t leave milk or creamer out on your counter most of the night.” I turn back to Dani, who’s staring around my apartment.

“Wow, Steve. You actually have taste and keep your place neat. I’m impressed.”

I laugh at the unexpected compliment. “Being in the military for twelve years will do that to you. Make you neat that is.”

Dani’s eyebrows rise and she shots a shy smile my way. “Well, that explains the knife. Which branch of service?”

“Army.”

“Cool. What did you do?” She asks while heading into the living room with her small overnight bag.

“Ranger, Airborne.”

“You were a Ranger? Really?” She eyes me up and down, weighing me carefully.

“Didn’t expect such an average looking guy?”

“You’re far from average, Steve. But I guess I thought of them like the guys in movies – you know, big muscles and tiny heads?” A playful glint comes into her eyes and I’m glad to see she can tease after the shake-up she’s just had.

“Most Rangers aren’t linebacker-sized. You need stamina and strength and the really big guys can’t last as long carrying all the extra weight.”

A smoldering look crosses her face and she clears her throat. “Can I have a drink?”

“Sure – water, wine, or beer? That’s about all I’ve got.”

She heads back toward me, standing at the opening to my galley kitchen. “Beer is good and I need to eat, how about you?”

I nod as she comes closer, admiring her sleek blond hair and almond-shaped blue eyes. We settle in, working companionably side by side, preparing some salad with her fresh ingredients and pan-grilling two steaks I had in the fridge. Dinner at the island counter, seated next to one another on bar stools, feels like magic. God, I didn’t know I’d missed it so much.

My years alone have left me without a lot of people skills and I can’t tell if the evening is going well or if I’m hopeful. It’s close to one in the morning when we clean up and I’m not sleepy at all. The blood hightailing it to my crotch every time she brushes against me ensures I’ve been stiff and ready for the past thirty minutes or so.

Girls only touch a guy a lot when they’re interested, right? The pulse beating in my cock screams yes, but I’m still not sure it’s a wise idea to make a pass at her after the scare she’s had.

Dani leans one hip against the counter and runs the tip of her tongue along her top lip. The energy zipping through me reminds me of a harrowing repel down a hillside in Europe years ago – one that went by fast and dangerous. She’s hotter than hell and I hope my erection isn’t noticeable. I lift my beer to finish it off and try to not focus on her soft mouth.

“You said Ranger’s have stamina, right?”

 Sputtering a bit of my drink, I try to think of a comeback that won’t sound overtly sexual. “Umm… yeah… we had to be conditioned to run long distances and still complete the mission.”

My sexy neighbor leans in, bringing her lips close to mine. “I bet that translates into interesting things in other areas of your life…”

“Er…uh… I can work long hours and never lose focus.”

“Or… ” She says before touching her lips briefly to mine, “You can last long during other… activities.”

I wrap my arms around her back and pull her to me in a stifling kiss. Sheer desire grips me and I grind my hips into hers, hoping I’ve read the signs right and she doesn’t pull back and slap me.

“Oh God,” she says when she comes up for air. “I can feel how turned on you are, Steve.” She rubs her small breasts over my trembling chest. “Can you feel how hard you made my nipples?”

A shudder rips through me as I reach up to grasp one firm, taut globe, thumbing the extended peak with my thumb. “Are you sure you’re up for this, Dani? There’s no rush.”

A blazing look of want fills her eyes and she grabs my free hand and places it at the hot juncture between her legs. “This won’t wait, Steve.” A flash of uncertainty crosses her features, “Unless, you’re not interested in—”

Before she can finish the false thought, I lean down and capture her mouth once again with my own. Her tongue invades, as mine seeks to do the same to her. She tastes of the dinner we made and the beer we’re both drinking. The scent of her lingering spicy perfume tickles my senses, seducing me with the moment.

Her soft curves and toned body fill my hands—one roves behind to lift her ass and rub her against my aching prick, while the other still plays at her breast. I can’t believe this passionate woman wants to tumble into bed with me, but I’m not going to question good fortune when it arrives in such a delicious package.

Planting kisses along her neck, I nibble up to her ear. A shiver travels down her spine and she chokes out a question, “How old are you, Steve?”

“Thirty-two,” I answer, amused by her nervous chatter.

“I’m twenty-eight. So… are you married?”

I mumble my negative while biting the tight skin at her neck, hoping to draw her firmly back into the here and now.

“Ever had an STD?” She says while panting and grabbing my shoulders.

I pull back and look her dead in the face, “No, I haven’t. Anything else?”

“I-i-i just wanted to make sure…”

I give her ass a light rub and work down the seam dividing her ass cheeks, pressing in at her moist heat.

“Arrested?” she squeaks.

“Nope,” I assure her. “I’m a stand up guy. But right now, I’d much prefer getting horizontal. You game or is this your way of pulling back after you stirred me up?”

Her look gets hot, a mixture of desire and anger. “I don’t tease. But I do have my standards.” Her glare forces me to choke back my amusement. It hasn’t occurred to her I could easily lie to get into her pants, or maybe it has and she can read lies well. My mom always seemed to know when I lied.

“Well then,” I say while scooping her into my arms and carrying her to my bedroom, “is it safe to conclude I’ve passed so far?” I set her gently on the bed and start to remove her shoes. I toss them in the direction of my closet and her eyes follow them.

“Hey, is that a camo uniform in there?”

“Yeah, BDU’s. I’m still in the Reserves. Go in one weekend a month.”

Her face changes slightly, a mischievous glint coming into her eye. Her voice comes out in a soft whisper of sound, “Would you mind putting it on?”

My cock surges at her playfulness. Maybe a uniform turns her on? I’ve often met women while wearing my dress clothes. “No problem,” I say, a spark of fun lighting in me as well. I grab it and head to the adjoining bathroom. “I’ll be out in a minute.”

~~*~~

Tune in August 24th for the conclusion to this short story.

~~ C.J. Ellisson ~~

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Copyright © 2011 C.J. Ellisson

All rights reserved. This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination, or have been used fictionally. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, locales, or events is entirely coincidental. No portion of this work may be transmitted or reproduced in any form, or by any means, without permission in writing from the author.

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