Extreme Passions

by Extreme Passions [Bold Strokes FF] (retail) (epub)

  The way she wore it tonight was my favorite. It flowed down her neck in a silky shower, with a few strands pinned back behind her ears with little rhinestone clips.

  It had been way too long since I’d had a date.

  We held hands when I walked her out to her car, took the keys, opened the door, and helped her in. She immediately started the engine and put down the driver’s window.

  As an actor, I know a cue when I see one. I leaned forward, resting my arm on the edge.

  Gwen smiled up at me. “I had so many questions to get past your...mystery...that I was going to ask tonight.”

  “Oh, so that was all it was, huh?”

  That was when she looked directly into my eyes, hitting me with the full force of those brilliant green beauties. She snaked her arms up around my neck, pulled me in, and caught my lips with hers.

  The electricity coursing between us could light New York for a millennium.

  “Do you think that was all it was?” she whispered into my ear. Her breath was warm enough to send tingles throughout my body. Her neck was too close. I could see her pulse beating. The scent of her perfume swirled around me, intoxicating me.

  I leaned farther into her car to put an arm around her and hold her near.

  I couldn’t resist the temptation. I ran my lips over her bare throat, drinking in the taste of her, overwhelmed with the smell of her.

  She moaned.

  I traced my tongue over the rim of her ear. “Even if nothing happens,” I whispered, “I don’t want to let you go yet.”

  My hands wanted to feel her. I wanted to push through that window and crawl on top of all that softness, all that electricity, all that life.

  “No...not alone...”

  Instead, I pulled back and willed myself to do what I had wanted to do for way too long. “We don’t have to work until tomorrow night. Why don’t I come home with you?” I could’ve used more flowery words, words about how I wanted it even if nothing happened, how I just wanted to talk...but I knew that wouldn’t be in line with the part I was now playing. So I couldn’t say it. I had to act within the parameters of the role.

  She drew me in for another deep kiss, her tongue on my lips, her tongue inside me.

  Then she sat back. “I’ll follow you.”

  “Aren’t you worried about going home with a vampire?”

  “I already know you only play one on TV.”

  I hopped on my Harley, with the feel of her silken lips still on mine, and it was as if her arms were still wrapped around my neck, as if her body were still within my grasp.

  I wanted this woman, and had wanted her, bad, for quite a while. Our occasional screen kisses were only enough to whet my appetite.

  And then I grasped that she was actually following me, coming to my house, my home. She might get there and have questions, and then what would I do? Now, it was handy that she was coming to my place because that would make it a lot easier for me to do certain things, as I would have certain necessities handy, but still...

  But still, this would be the first time that a real live woman would come to see me in these digs.

  I could lose her—disappear. Quite easily. After all, my bike could rip around corners and slip through lights that she could never follow me through...unless she had a death wish.

  But what if she did? What if she tried to follow me when I was ripping around, trying to lose her, and got herself killed? I couldn’t have another death on my conscience, and I couldn’t... I remembered the feel of her lips on mine, the feel of her body against mine, and I could remember the first time I met her. I had taken up acting again after so many years because of her.

  I had seen her on TV and wanted to meet her. So I auditioned for the part, and got it. After all, I was a natural for it.

  And now that she was within my reach, I was under her power.

  I led her to my place.

  *

  “So this is where you live?” she asked, walking into my apartment. I reached around her to flick on the entryway light. “It’s...nice.”

  “It’s not much, but what can I say, starving actor and all.”

  She turned to face me, with the door still open. “You’ve been on the show three seasons now. You’re not exactly a starving actor.”

  I closed the door behind me. “My memory is far too good to ever accept a windfall. I always plan, and save, for tomorrow.” I locked the door behind us. We were only inches from each other. Her perfume laying a cloud around me brought back the feeling of her hands and lips in 3-D Technicolor.

  She wandered through my space, touching books, lightly running her fingers over my possessions. She knelt by my coffee table, picked up a book of matches, and lit the candles on either end.

  I crouched down behind her, pulling her back against me, holding her as I began kissing her neck, feeling the blood coursing through her veins under her skin. She moaned, begging me to taste her, take her...

  I felt her pulse beating against my lips and my instincts fought within me.

  She begged for more, wanting me to experience her.

  She had no idea what she was asking for. What she was chancing.

  I pulled her to her feet and pushed her against a wall. Her jacket landed in a heap around her feet. I braced my left hand against the wall to the side of her head. With my right hand I untied the strings of her halter top, my fingers brushing ever so lightly against the back of her neck. The handkerchief fabric fell away from her breasts. It took my breath away.

  I cradled her chin and kissed her, our lips brushing, so sweetly, and I plunged my tongue into her. I tasted her. I enjoyed her closeness and sweet, musky scent. I drank her in.

  I pulled her firmly against me and cupped her breast till she moaned. My other hand seized her throat; the heat of her blood created a blood fever in me as well.

  She moaned again, putting her hand on top of mine, so I gripped her breast more firmly so I touched her heart.

  Suddenly, we both opened our eyes. The lights from the candles flickered over her face, casting it in both dark and light. Her green eyes were darker now, with little flecks of black inside of them. I read the smoldering passion there…her desire…

  Our eyes held together while—I don’t know if she guided my hand, or if I did it all by myself—our hands went down to the top of her jeans.

  I unsnapped her jeans and reached down to rub my palm against her heat. She opened her legs ever so slightly to let me know I was allowed. I kissed her again, biting her lip as I moved my hand in small, firm circles between her legs. She groaned and arched into me.

  I put my thigh between her legs, applying firm pressure as I

  teased her breasts, first cupping them gently and then grasping her erect nipples between my thumbs and squeezing them.

  Hard.

  I nibbled on her neck, and again her hand was on mine, pushing it lower. “Please, inside, now,” she moaned into my ear.

  I unzipped her tight jeans and slipped my hand underneath her silky underwear. I pulled away and looked into her eyes with her arm still around my neck and my hand still down her pants.

  “Touch me.” She pushed down her jeans and panties to reveal herself.

  Still holding her gaze, I ran my hand over her stomach, and then down, until her hair brushed my fingertips. And then I pushed down lower still until I felt her wetness against my fingertips. She gasped when I slid a finger up into her. And then I slid another in.

  She ran a hand over my crotch in a teasing sort of way.

  I removed her hand and laid it on her breast.

  “You’re so soft. Except where you’re...not,” I whispered to her.

  She wrapped both arms around my neck, dragging me down for a deep kiss so as my fingers plunged into her, so did my tongue. And everywhere, I was surrounded by softness. Except where it wasn’t so much.

  It had been coming back to me all night, how soft and smooth women are. How their warm, sweet scents drown me and make me lose my sen
ses. Except that in all those times, it’s never been quite like this. This wasn’t just a one-night stand, like all the thousands I’ve done before. This was something else. Every time I looked into her eyes, I knew that.

  Besides, I wasn’t the same person who had done all those horrible things in the past. Some of them, yeah, sure, but not all...

  Gwen cupped me again. I put my hand on hers, pulling it away.

  Then she pushed me back. My hand was still inside of her. “I know the truth, Kirby. Or whatever your real name is.” She closed her eyes and moved with me, swaying her body back and forth with the movements of my hand, my fingers, groaning with the power of it.

  She was the most beautiful thing I had ever had in all my years.

  I took her mouth again, forcefully.

  She stopped my hand with hers and made me look at her. Her unspoken wish was granted. I picked her up, carried her to my bed, and stripped her naked. I looked down at her, lying on the covers, with her ankles demurely crossed to cover her nudity, even as she squirmed because of how much she was turned on. Because of how much she wanted me.

  I sat beside her and ran my hands over her body, feeling the softness of her skin and the beauty of her curves.

  She looked up at me and stilled my hands with her own. “I know the truth. And I still want you. I’m still here for you. I’m yours. As I have always been.”

  I stiffened. I felt the blood rush as my self-protective instincts kicked in. Part of me wanted to kill her for whatever she thought she knew…to reach down, seize her neck between my hands, and break it. I took a deep breath. “I want to make love to you.” I leaned down to kiss her lips, then her neck. I let my hands feel her form and shape, realizing this might be the last time I was ever allowed to touch the perfection that was Gwen.

  Her breasts were soft and firm, with surprisingly hard nipples. Her figure never looked quite so curvaceous within the confines of her clothing. Her legs were incredibly long for her height. And everything was so soft and smooth and touchable. And her scent surrounded me. But this time it was the smell of her perfume mixed with a hint of

  sweat, the musk of her arousal, and the power of her heart beating beneath her skin, pumping her thick, rich blood through her body.

  Her hand fumbled with my belt buckle. “Please, Kirby...”

  I pushed her hand away and held her hands down against the bed above her head. I thrust two fingers deep inside of her, and then another, and another...

  I only let go of her hands when I felt her insides gripping oh so tightly against my hand, my entire hand, my fist. Pulsing with the force of her orgasm as she cried out.

  I withdrew from her, and lay beside her, an arm over her abdomen. I wanted to tell her that I loved her. But I couldn’t. Not yet, not now. I knew in that moment that no matter what, I could never harm this woman. I would rather run from all I was than hurt Gwen.

  And so, there I was, lying with this incredibly beautiful, entirely naked woman laying half across me, and I realized I hadn’t really tasted her. Not really, not entirely.

  “What sort of theatre did you do?” she asked suddenly.

  I covered us with the blankets. “Oh, Shakespeare. That sort of thing. I guess you could call me a classical actor.” I stopped myself from making any personal remarks about the Bard.

  She rolled on top of me. “If you’ve only ever done theatre before, what brought you to the show?”

  Her breasts against my chest distracted me, so it took a moment to reply. “You did.” I slipped my hands over her sweaty form.

  She sat up on the side of the bed and out of my arms. It was totally dark, but my night vision enabled me to see the curve of her figure, notice the perks of her nipples, and see that her legs were again together. “Flattery will get you everywhere.”

  I didn’t want her to think this was just a one-night stand. I wanted her to realize this could be more than that, so much more.

  She leaned down to kiss me and ran a hand down to cup the bulge in my jeans. “Get more comfortable.” She kissed me again. “When I get back, I want you to fuck me.” She squeezed me, and then she went to the bathroom.

  I didn’t waste a moment. I leapt to my dresser, dropped my trousers, threw the softie I had been packing into my drawer, and pulled on my favorite harness, complete with a thick, eight-inch green latex dildo. I pulled my jeans and drawers back up, put a bottle of lube on the bedside table, and lit a few candles.

  She came back and I fucked her brains out.

  *

  I was still fully clothed, even though my pants were unzipped and I was inside her. Her arms were around my back, holding me tight. “I want to touch you,” she whispered once she caught her breath.

  “You already are, love.”

  She ran her hands down my back, toward my butt. I couldn’t let her feel the harness, so I stopped her. “Kirby, I told you, I know. I know you’re a woman.”

  I laughed, pulled out, stood up, zipped up, and sat down beside her. “What are you talking about? How can you think that? What about what we just did?”

  She smiled and wrapped herself around me. “I’ve had suspicions for a while. But tonight, at the restaurant, when you gave me the chance to really study your hands, I knew for sure.” She untucked my shirt and ran her nails up my back. “And if I had any doubt at all, I had none once you made love to me.”

  If that was all she knew, then she didn’t have to die tonight. After all, I may play a vampire on TV, but that doesn’t mean I’m not really one.

  Slow Climb

  Deborah Barry

  Sean shoved her backpack under the seat in front of her and plopped down with a satisfied sigh. Her vacation had been short but exhilarating, a necessary break from her daily routine, and now she was headed home to Chicago. She dutifully buckled herself in, then gazed out the window at the luggage disappearing into the belly of the huge aircraft.

  She recognized this plane—it was the one on which she had flown to California a week ago—and she wondered if she would be lucky enough to have the same crew. A twitch in her groin made her sit up and adjust her jeans.

  Captain Blair Mitchum. Sean closed her eyes and allowed the fantasies she had conjured up over the last seven days to invade her mind. She recalled the warm surprise she felt when the silky female voice had come over the loudspeaker. Sean had listened to the air traffic control channel throughout the entire three-and-a-half-hour flight, waiting to hear more of that caramel-coated voice guiding the massive Airbus 320 through the sky and into LAX. The landing had been smoother than any Sean had experienced, and she imagined that everything Captain Blair did would be just as smooth.

  Sean remembered the slow trek down the aisle to disembark, hoping that the pilot would be there to thank the passengers for choosing United. Sean wanted a glimpse of her. She wanted to see, as sexist as it was, if the attractive vision she had in her mind matched the woman herself. As she cleared the first-class cabin and heard the murmuring voices, Sean glanced up into spectacular pale blue eyes, framed by a captain’s hat above a beautiful face and braided blond hair. The smile could melt an ice cap, and with a quick, involuntary glance to Blair’s left hand—ring free—Sean smiled back.

  “Nice landing.”

  “Thank you.”

  And that was it. Sean headed through the gate, met her friends, and told them all about the pilot who then occupied her dreams during the entire vacation.

  The announcement to bring seats into the upright position snapped Sean out of her reverie and she glanced around. The seat next her was empty so she raised the armrest, stretched out her long legs, and relaxed, ready to grab a nap to help acclimate herself back to Central time. The relaxation lasted as long as it took for Captain Blair Mitchum to announce their starting position in line.

  Sean sat up and plugged in her headphones. The voice was exactly as she had committed to memory. She grinned and prepared for another flight charged with desire-filled daydreams.

  All was well un
til about an hour outside Chicago. O’Hare Airport was shrouded in a vicious storm that had stalled over the city and appeared to have no intention of moving in the near future. Captain Blair maneuvered the Airbus well, but the plane was buffeted by intense turbulence that produced a series of sickening drops, until even Sean was ready to bail out. The pilot informed the passengers of the decision to turn the aircraft around and head to Janesville, Wisconsin, where they would refuel and wait out the weather.

  The storm hung on, however, and passengers wandered aimlessly around the terminal as delay after delay was announced over the loudspeakers. Sean was looking for a quiet place to sit when she saw her. She had never been accused of being shy and reasoned that she had nothing to lose in the attempt to meet this woman, so she walked over and waited at a discreet distance.

  When the captain finished her conversation with the gate attendants and turned her way, Sean gave her a charming smile. “Hi. Look like we’re spending the night?”

  “Yes, it looks that way.”

  “I’m sure this isn’t the first time you’ve had to camp here

  overnight.” Sean tested the waters. “Can you recommend a decent hotel?”

  The pilot gave Sean a once-over that actually curled her toes, then she smiled brilliantly. “I can. In fact, I’m on my way there right now and my crew has already left on the shuttle. We could share a cab.”

  “Absolutely!”

  The eager reply drew another smile. “Wonderful.”

  They hailed an airport taxi and settled in the backseat for the short ride to the hotel. The confidence Blair projected was like an aphrodisiac to Sean. She wanted this woman open and wet and calling her name. Loudly. The pilot had to be gay. Sean was certain of it. No one had ever looked at her like that before and kept her clothes on. Anticipation vibrated through her body and it was difficult to remain still. She stuck out her hand. “I’m Sean Wallace, by the way.”