TITLE – Two Week Seduction
“Thank you for your help,” he said. His voice was rusty, but clear enough. She gasped in mock shock. “He speaks! Five words and it wasn’t rude!” Against his will, his lips twitched. She always could make him smile when he least wanted to. She leaned forward, a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. “Let’s try something else. I know it’s dangerous—I mean, your head might explode or something—but I say we risk it. Give me a compliment.”
“Fishing?” he drawled.
She tsked. “That wasn’t a compliment. You’re supposed to say something nice. About me.”
He didn’t answer. Mostly because he was thinking of all the things he wanted to say. That her skin looked soft and her eyes were a changeable hazel that always kept him guessing. That her tits were round and full, just begging to be nipped. That she was small compared to his 6'3" frame, but she had legs long enough to wrap around his waist as he buried himself inside her. And that red hair, a bright red flash of color on her perfect body, was a scream of danger he lusted after.
While those thoughts spun through his mind, her expression soured. With a sigh, she grabbed his empty beer bottle and held it before his eyes. “Say something nice to me and I’ll get you another beer.”
She shook the bottle a little to grab his attention. It didn’t work. He was too busy watching how the breeze pressed her blouse flat against her chest. Her bra had lace, which meant texture, and he wondered what sound she’d make if he tugged it back and forth against her nipples.
“John–-” “That’s a nice b-blouse.” Damn it, he’d almost said bra. Her mouth flattened with a sigh. “I thought you’d like it.” Alea leaned forward as she pushed to her feet. A curl of brown hair tumbled forward, pushing past the tiny gold hoop in her ear to dangle right before him. Without thinking, he grabbed the lock, winding it around his fingers. It wasn’t even long enough to pull into his fist. But it was close enough to hold her still. Her eyes widened in surprise and her mouth—those plump, pink lips—formed a perfect O.
God, he’d been gone so long. And she was so much of a woman now. “John?” He wanted to say something, but he hadn’t the words. Just a thick want. He took a breath, trying to clear his head, but all he tasted on the air was her. A citrus scent, so appropriate to Florida and so missed when he was in Afghanistan. But there was another scent on top. The taste of woman, hot and spicy despite her demure yellow shirt.
He should let her go, but his fingers just wouldn’t cooperate. He tightened his hold. And when her hair started to slip through his grip, he pushed forward in his chair. He deserved one taste. He sacrificed so his country would be safe. One kiss was nothing when stacked up against that.
But if he was going to take her mouth—and he damn sure was—then he was going to take something else too...
Title – Forgiveness
It seemed more and more lately that no matter how hard she tried, he looked right through her. It was infuriating and heart breaking. She'd had enough heartbreak during the past year to last her a lifetime. Her mother had been sick battling cancer all last year. Unfortunately she’d lost the battle. She’d made sure to pass on information to Mary while on her deathbed though.
Something Mary had never seen coming. She was adopted. Her world felt as if she had lost all control.
The adoption information that her mother had left with her will quickly found its way into the trash. Why would she want to find someone who didn't want her? She had enough instances of that in her own home. She did wonder, after a year, if she had reacted too rashly. You never know when you'll need family, and if she met her biological mother maybe she could figure out who she was, inside and out.
Mary plopped herself on the bed and let out a huge rush of air. There was no way Joe hadn’t noticed her outfit. She had bought it specifically for their ten-year anniversary night.
She remembered how she had anxiously awaited this evening and decided that she would make it perfect no matter how she was feeling. Every year on this day, they left the house at four twenty five and drove to the lake where he had romantically declared his undying love and proposed to her. He always hired a horse drawn carriage. The prancing steed would take them from the lake to a lovely candlelit dinner for two. After having one too many glasses of wine and a wonderful meal, they would enjoy a leisurely stroll to the theater. Wicked was currently playing on Broadway, and she couldn’t wait to hear the music that made her soul dance and her heart soar. Re-reading the book several times had her excited, and she knew the night would be perfect.
Then reality reared its ugly head.
Carefully she unlaced her corset and tossed the silky white thong in the corner; it still held the dampness from her unquenched desire.
"I can't believe I wasted my time and effort on this. Sometimes my husband is such a jerk," when she took a look around it dawned on her that she was talking to herself. Another deep breath and swish of hair and she mused, "I guess its okay to talk to myself as long as I don't answer back, huh CC?"
She slipped her silk robe on quickly and snatched the cat from his slumberous repose. He squirmed to free himself but Mary kissed his little nose first. "Don't be like your daddy, at least notice I'm here." She placed the cat gently on the bed and started her morning ritual. Getting ready for work was the last thing she was interested in.
Writing books has been a long time in coming for me. When I was younger, my father and I lived in a town where a kid could run the streets all ‘willy nilly’. When I was old enough to babysit myself I was off and running. To where you may ask, the library. At the time the library was in an old shop on a street in town. The children’s books were in the back room and that was where I spent my days. I was never without an adventure in my hands, and I never failed to finish the summer reading program with books to spare.
