(This was a gift for a friend two years ago. He loved it. I hope you enjoy it too. I certainly had fun writing it. The second sex scene, the part with the * next to the paragraph, is a position I read about in Maxim magazine. I've been dying to put it into a story. And here it is. ^.^ I've been thinking about adding in another scene, and using the note at the bottom in it. The guy Charles actually exists, and he is a soldier over in Iraq. And he has the scar and a happy trail. ^.- Let me know if you would like to see another scene.)
He opened the door to find a tall woman standing there, one shoulder leaning on the frame, a crooked smile on her oval-shaped face. She said nothing, and he was too surprised to see a pretty, American woman standing outside his room to utter a word. Her blue/green eyes sparkled at him, and his own eyes narrowed as he studied her. She seemed somehow... familiar. He'd never seen her before -he would have remembered. But he felt as if he should know her.
"Hello." He said finally, making the single word both inquiry and greeting.
She beamed a smile at him and straightened, absently brushing back the tail of golden blonde hair that had draped over her shoulder.
"Hey there Charles, how ya doin'?"
A little wrinkle appeared between his brows as he studied her further. "Um, I'm fine. May I ask who you are?" There was a note of suspicion in the question.
The grin flashed again, and she chuckled, pushing her pink-rimmed glasses back up her nose. "Jami."
He stared for a moment longer, his eyes widening as he swept his gaze down her body and back to her face. Then he smiled and laughed a little. "Lissette?"
She rolled her eyes at the use of her MORPG name, but the crooked smile remained when she folded her arms over her chest, pushing her rather large bust up so that cleavage peeked above the neckline of her shirt. His eyes darted there for a split second before focusing on her face again.
"None-other. You gonna ask me in?"
He stuttered and stepped aside. "Ye-yeah, of course. Sorry, I was surprised. Surprised, hell. More like blown away. Never expected..." He let the speedy explanation ramble off, shutting the door once she was inside.
They faced each other, and then Jami said conversationally, "So how ya been? Whatcha been doin' with yourself?" She wandered over to a two-seater and plopped down in it. He shrugged, remained standing, and stuck his hands in his pockets.
"Not much. What about you?"
She patted the seat beside her and smiled.
Noticing she wasn't going to answer unless he sat, he plopped down on the couch beside her. They turned toward each other until their knees bumped. He glanced down at that point of contact, wondering at the little tingle that ran up his leg. When his eyes met hers again, hers had grown darker -not in color, but in depth. He opened his mouth to ask her what she was doing here, but before he could she jumped into his lap, straddling him and taking his mouth hungrily. He made a muffled sound when her tongue thrust past his lips and attacked his tongue. She framed his face with her hands and ravaged him.
He tried to restore some sanity, but it was damn hard when she kept rubbing that lush body against him, her breasts mashed to his chest, her pelvis nestling his crotch. His heart gave one jump as the heat she exuded slammed into him. Desire wrapped around him with hot slippery fingers, squeezing his stomach muscles until he groaned. His hands attacked her hair, yanking off the tie and quickly unweaving the braid. His fingers dove into the full, silky locks to hold her against his mouth, which had now taken possession of hers.
She made some growling little noise in her throat and nipped his bottom lip. He rubbed his tongue along the roof of her mouth and massaged the muscles of her neck slowly. She moaned and slid her hands down his chest, slipping them under his shirt to rub them over his bare chest, across his nipples, brushing the back of her knuckles over his taut stomach. Their middles continued to rub until twin aches began to spread through them.
He was hard, throbbing for her. Her taste flowing into his system like a drug. His blood raged in his head. The jeans of his pants became a prison to him, and he thrust his hips upward to grind against her heat.
Her loins tightened then loosened, opening and flooding to receive him. She moaned and pulled away from his mouth, her hands stilling on the waistband of his jeans. They panted, struggled to regain a modicum of control.
