Morgans Muse

by Morgan's Muse (lit)

  Temper subsided under a wave of such strong emotion she didn't dare put a name to it. Morgan walked over to him, taking his hand in hers. "It doesn't bother me. Part of me wishes you had killed the bitches, but... maybe your solution was the best one."

  "Hey, Mike!" a man called from outside the entrance flap. "You open in there? Come on, man. You can't close up shop yet!"

  Morgan jumped, having forgotten about the carnival for a while. Michael smiled and walked past her to unzip the tent flap and lift it up to pin pack. "Come in. We just had something to discuss." Without another word, he went to the painting and slipped a 'sold' sign under the frame.

  * * * *

  Smiling, well pleased with the current situation, and her body's satiation, Morgan wandered out of the tent as Michael got down to business. The artist had to sell his art in order to create more art. The carnival raged full swing, kids and adults enjoying the booth games and rides, adults wandering among spots offering to sell everything from homemade jewelry and arts and crafts to car parts and lawn mowers. There was a lot of art booths and small galleries of all kinds, from paintings, though none as good as Michael's, to pottery and glass sculptures, many of them by local artists, according the signs prominently displayed in windows and on tables.

  The scents and sounds of frying beef and potatoes, hot dogs, and other fattening carnival treats only made her stomach roll. Interest in the local art culture waning, she wandered out of the main carnival, away from the excited kids and strolling adults, onto the edge of the park in the center of town. She ducked under the flowing thin branches of a weeping willow and sighed as she leaned against the tree trunk, encased in solitude. The distant sounds and scents of the carnival drifted past the tree, past her and she closed her eyes, drifting on a wave of pleasant exhaustion.

  Eyelids sliding down, she savored erotic memories, relived fiery passion until her pussy clenched and liquid heat dampened her panties. Oh man. Her skin tingled, stomach rippling as though his hands roamed over her. She sighed, longing for more, and let her mind wander over the memories again, unable to stop her body's predictable longing reaction.

  A rustle of branches and leaves drew her back to reality, her heart pounding and disappointment a sharp sting that Michael hadn't joined her yet. Morgan, whispered in her mind. Whiskey smooth and honey warm, that voice flowed over her senses, wrapping her in a sensual haze. Lifting her lashes, she peered into the tangled tree branches, among the leaves rustling in the wind, until a flash of silver caught her attention. Eyes narrowed, she stared at the phenomenon until it delineated into a pair of familiar molten silver eyes.

  "Muse," she murmured, more erotic images flooding her brain. The forest, the campfire, and.... Stop it, Morgan! You just had the best sex of your life and now you're mooning after one who probably isn't as real as he appears!

  A dark form materialized, stepping through the branches. Muse joined her in the secluded area of the tree, stopping directly in front of her. "Interesting day," he quipped, intense stare never leaving her eyes.

  Morgan shrugged, words sticking in her throat. He radiated heat and sexuality, a deadly combination. Her gaze dropped to sculpted lips as the breath caught in her throat. He lifted a hand, finger stroking her lips, now parted in anticipation. Warm male breath fluttered over her face, warming her skin and scorching her senses. Head lowered, he brushed his lips over hers, slight caresses that lit a fire in her gut. She settled the back of her head against the tree trunk, her face upturned, heart racing for his kisses, for his tongue tangling with hers.

  Blue eyes flashed in her mind and she closed her eyes, seeking more. Morgan! Damn it, you slut! You just had one guy all over you, just more or less agreed to exclusivity and honesty, and now--

  "It's not real," she murmured on a soft exhale. "Anything can happen in dreams."

  He's standing right in front of you! Logic hissed, and Michael knows him. You want to cheat already or are you just a nympho?

  "Mmm," she murmured, sliding her hands up hard, muscular bare arms. His mouth covered hers and pleasure crashed over her. Shut up. It's only a dream.

  You're not even sleeping! How can it be a dream? Squelching the persistent voice, Morgan rose on tiptoe and kissed him back, tongue tangling with his as he lowered her to the grass beneath the tree. Secluded by low hanging branches in their own little world, Morgan could indulge her desires. Blood rushed to her crotch, swelling the outer folds of her pussy against denim as she squirmed under him. The friction short-circuited her brain and she arched into him, rubbing her breasts over his hard chest. Sparks shot under her skin, sizzling nerves all the way to her crotch. She wrapped her legs around him, feet hooked inside his thighs as she rubbed her pelvis over the bulge in his jeans. Denim slid over denim, a welcome rasp of intent in her ears.

  His mouth slid, sucking at skin, down her throat and over the expanse of bare flesh to the low collar of her T-shirt. Heat spread through her body from that minute point of contact. More, she implored, tangling her fingers in his hair. His mouth closed over the tip of her breast, tongue flicking the nipple through her cotton t-shirt. In a scant minute, his tongue slid over bare flesh, the sensation so staggering she didn't question how her clothes were suddenly gone.

  Fire licked at her everywhere his tongue traveled, clear down her stomach to the crisp curls between her legs. His hands molded her breasts, pinching the nipples between thumb and forefinger as his mouth wreaked havoc on her pussy. Desire spun through her like a thread from a spool, yanking her further into passion spiraling out of control.

  A rough hand shook her shoulder. "Morgan? Come on, baby. Wake up."

  "Hmm," she moaned, twisting her hips against Muse's passionate attack on her pussy. "Mm, hmm. More," she demanded on a husky whisper, reaching toward the hand shaking her shoulder and sliding up that hard muscled arm to a rugged face. Her eyes slid open and she looked into sapphire blue eyes blazing with desire.

  Grasping the back of his neck, she pulled him down and fastened her mouth to his, savoring the unique male flavor. "Michael." She purred against his lips and slipped her tongue inside.

  Slow and easy, he pulled back, took her hand and eased her into a sitting position. Sensation vanished, fabric rubbing against her sensitized skin, and she blinked. "Michael? I thought..." Muse left? How...?

  He wasn't even there, I was dreaming. Again.

  "Never mind. Guess I was dreaming."

  He chuckled but fire burned in his eyes. "What did you dream about?"

  Low and husky, the question set her nerves soaring, but her face flushed hot. Dreaming about another man, Muse. Must have been something...squirming and moaning and you kissed Michael at the same time another man... She froze, image after image searing into her brain. Two men on her, in her, worshiping her body... Oh my god! Stop it, Morgan!

  Once released, though, the erotic fantasy burned in her mind. Even if I write it, it might not go away. With a sigh, she let Michael help her up and looked around. She'd fallen asleep under the willow tree. Shaking her head at the dazzling speed of her dreams, the carnal images seared into her mind, Morgan looked up at Michael and found herself caught in burning sapphire eyes.

  "Must have been an interesting dream," he ventured, taking her hand as they walked across the park to the motorcycle.

  Glancing around, Morgan sighed. Must have slept for a while. And dreamed of ....

  Dreaming of another man after one had just made love to you.

  Love has nothing to do with anything. It was only a dream!

  Michael's hand tightened on hers. "Are you okay, Morgan?"

  Concern roughened his voice and she shivered, the cool night air brushing bare skin as she walked beside him. She took the helmet he handed her but before she could put it on, he tipped her chin up with a knuckle. "What's wrong? Tired?"

  "Hmm," she murmured, not about to admit she'd dreamed of Muse. Fuck one man and then dream of another? What is wrong with you, Morgan! Sheesh! She shook her head.

  "Mor
gan?"

  A soft sigh escaped her. "It's okay. Just thinking, talking to myself."

  He cleared his throat with a harsh rumble, reaching for his own helmet dangling on the handle bar of the bike. "That must have been some dream."

  Morgan slanted a look at him, and then tugged the helmet onto her head, straps dangling along her neck. Her face flushed hot. What did I do...say? He looked uncomfortable, but at the same time curious. Oh, shit. "Um… not sure, I... um..."

  "Well..." He cleared his throat again. "OK. Well, the way you were squirming and moaning, I wasn't sure at first that you weren't having a nightmare."

  She looked away, unable to meet his gaze any longer. "No, no nightmares."

  Shifting fast, he maneuvered her between him and the bike seat. "Looked like an erotic dream. Did you dream of me, Morgan? After we...?"

  "Fucked? Yeah, it was that kind of dream." No way am I telling him Muse was in that dream, but I can't bring myself to lie either. Leave it ambiguous. Let him assume.

  A slow, satisfied smile curved his lips and pleasure lit his eyes. He placed his helmet on his head, fastened the strap and climbed onto the bike. Morgan followed suit, fastening the helmet strap before wrapping her arms around him.

  The bike roared along the road, winding through the dark forest with an ease Morgan envied. Cheek against Michael's back, she let out a contented sigh. The machine vibrated between her legs, rubbing spots so sensitive now she tried not to squirm in anticipation as her hold on Michael tightened. Her hand slid of its own accord down his washboard stomach to rest on his thigh. The vibration, steady and rhythmic, pulsed through her and erotic images swam into her mind, refusing to be banished. Motorcycle, waterfall, and two people entwined on the shore of the waterfall. A full moon lingered over head, throwing everything into stark relief.

  Desire unfurled and she fought the urge to ask him to take the bike off road to the waterfall now. Rising need battled fatigue during the ride to the cabin and she waited, hoping she wouldn't be too tired to ask Michael inside.

  All too soon, indecision still hovering in her brain, she relaxed her hold as Michael stopped the bike in front of the cabin. She climbed off the bike, removed the helmet, and yanked the band from her hair so it cascaded over her shoulders. Michael put the machine on its kickstand, dismounted, and removed his own helmet, his gaze fastened on her. Blue eyes gleamed in the light of the partial moon, riveted to her without wavering.

  Morgan swallowed hard and found her voice. "Would you like to come in? For coffee?" Do I have to sound like some smitten teenager? Shit!

  Just tell him to come in and fuck you again. That's what you want!

  "Sure," Michael replied, lips curving into a natural grin. "I'd love some coffee."

  Face flaming, she turned and led the way to the door and then inside the cabin. As she bustled around in the kitchen area, preparing coffee, her mind spun. Why the hell am I so nervous? We've already fucked, already seen each other naked and all that.

  Maybe because you fucked the biker and then dreamed, or rather tried to fuck someone else, someone who may or may not exist? Morgan, you're going crazy!

  She turned away from the now dripping coffee maker and ended up in Michael's embrace, his face so close to hers his breath warmed her face. "More," he murmured and fastened his mouth to hers.

  Sensation blew through her, his lips on hers, the bulge in his jeans grinding against her as he pinned her against the counter, his hands clamped around the edge. His tongue dived deep, prowling her mouth at will. Fire exploded along every nerve chain in her body. Yes! Senses screaming for more, she leaned into him, wrapping her arms around his neck as she returned his kisses with equal abandon and enthusiasm.

  Hands on her waist, he lifted and sat her on the counter, devouring her with mind numbing kisses. Fingers caressed the skin just above her waistband before curling around the fabric and sliding along to the snap. Kissing her senseless, he also managed to unsnap and unzip her jeans. She kicked off her sandals and rubbed her feet up and down his legs.

  His breath hitched and he dragged his mouth from hers. As she gulped in air for her starving lungs, he grasped her jeans and panties, tugging at them. She lifted her ass and he pulled her clothes down her legs to pool on the floor at his feet. Releasing him for a brief moment, she pulled off her shirt and tossed it aside before wrapping her arms around his neck and capturing his mouth again.

  Leaning into her, he groaned as his hands roamed her back, sliding over her skin until every nerve screamed for more. Liquid heat drenched her pussy. Those swollen folds throbbed in urgent need and she shifted to the edge of the counter. Denim scraped over sensitive flesh and she shuddered, sensation rippling through her. The hard bulge of his cock pressed against her, teasing her senses and her dripping pussy.

  "Michael," she purred against his lips and feathered hot kisses down the side of his neck to nibble on his throat. Clamping her mouth on him, she sucked hard, drawing blood to the surface and leaving her mark on him, all without thought or conscious intent. He groaned again, head tilting to the side as his hands covered her bare breasts, sliding over rigid nipples. Sparks shot through her, sizzling under her skin. He lowered his head, tongue teasing a nipple before his mouth closed over her and he sucked hard and fast. The breath hitched in her throat and her head fell back, eyes closing on a staggering wave of passion. "Oh my god." She moaned, low and husky.

  She clamped her legs on him, hands palming his ass to pull him tighter to her begging pussy. Denim rasped over her skin, awareness flooding her in sensation. "You have too many clothes on," she murmured.

  "Do something about it," he ordered, voice muffled by her willing flesh.

  Eager, anticipation a sharp sword in her gut, she dropped her hands to his jeans, fingers trailing up the hard bulge behind his zipper as she fumbled with the belt. Finally leather slid through metal and she unfastened the button, fingers tugging on the zipper tab. She yanked it down so fast he sucked in a breath. Molding rigid flesh to her palm, she stroked him, fast and hard, until he released her for a moment and dropped jeans and underwear to his ankles. She curled her hand around his cock, tugging and caressing, from base to tip and back again.

  Shifting so her pussy hung almost off the counter, she positioned his cock so the tip nudged her opening and her pussy throbbed. A low groan erupted from her throat and she pulled at him, urging him into her. He lifted his mouth from her breast, eyes burning with need as he peered down at her.

  "Look at me," he commanded as his hands clamped on her backside, thumbs digging into her hips. "Look at me."

  Eyes open, she stared at him, squirming against the source of her pleasure. "Now," she whimpered, begging for release. Tension coiled so tight it had to snap any minute and her senses soared, reaching for him.

  He pulled her toward him and slammed his cock deep, hard and fast inside her. Struggling to meet him, she shifted, back and forth, until he tightened his grip and held her still, ramming that large, powerful cock deep and fast, again and again. She clamped her legs around his waist and just held on, relishing the pounding his cock gave her sopping wet pussy. The kitchen faded into the distance, blurry and unreal as she stared into his eyes, drowning in that deep blue sea of passion until orgasm blasted through her, hard and violent. Even as violent aftershocks crashed over her, he plowed deeper, harder, in and out, over and over again until she clutched at his powerful arms.

  Gasping for breath, she dug her fingers into hard muscle, her frantic gaze imploring him to let her rest. With a wicked grin, he shook his head and lifted her off the counter. She clung to him as he spun around and lowered her to the floor. Only for a second did cold linoleum shock her, but he rammed deep and she forgot the cold. He rolled, putting her on top. Startled, she looked down at him, at the passion blazing in his eyes.

  He lifted his hips, impaling her, demanding without words that she ride him to ecstasy. Slow and easy, she lifted her ass and slid back down on rock hard flesh. His hands clamped on her h
ips, urging her faster. She only arched an eyebrow, a warning. You asked for it.

  She paused, slid back forth and watched in pure feminine triumph as his eyes widened at the sensation. Alternating back and forth with up and down, she maintained her slow, teasing pace. The glint in his eyes promised retribution as he tightened his hold and shifted her, urging her faster. She gave in, speeding up the pace, grinding herself on him as tension coiled once more. This time when he urged her even faster, she didn't balk.

  Well into the rhythm, she stared into his eyes as she rode him. Sliding his hands up her ribs, he pulled her down, and captured her mouth with his. As he drove his tongue deep to tangle with hers, he lifted his hips, forcing his rigid cock up into hot moist flesh. Her pussy clamped around him and orgasm blasted through her again, inner muscles clenching as they milked him. Low groans muffled, he tensed and erupted deep inside her, pulsing jets of hot come spurting against the inner walls of her rippling pussy.

  Drained, eyes closing, Morgan settled on his heaving chest and panted for breath. As her breathing slowed, the aromatic scent of strong black coffee invaded awareness and her mouth watered, but she lacked the energy to get up.

  Michael nudged and she let her body roll off him, the cold seeping into her from the floor. Finally, the enticing aroma of coffee drove her off the floor seeking a large mug. A shiver rippled through her and her nipples stayed hard in the cool mountain air. Shooting him a glance of regret, she pulled on her clothes and sipped coffee as she leaned her ass against the counter.

  ?

  Chapter Four

  Michael helped himself to coffee and just watched her as he sipped it. Tension arced between them like an electric current. Just finished fucking and damn! I want to do it again! Shit! What is wrong with you, Morgan, you slut!

  "I should be exhausted, but I'm not," she murmured. "For some reason, I'm not."