Monday, December 10, 2007

Overwhelming Evidence

Copyright Roscoe James 2007

The shadows were long across the pavement when he stopped in front of Creolla’s house. The engine idled while he contemplated. It was about why. Why she hadn’t looked for him, asked for his help.

His thoughts stepped off the trolley at his own feelings. He hadn’t thought about Creolla in years. Almost a decade and yet a glimpse, a touch, a sigh, a word, and he was consumed by a need be near her. Not just for a moment or a night. But for… For what?

He slammed his car door in disgust and rubbed his sweaty palms together trying to recall the last time he’d felt this perturbed about a woman.

“Landon! Come in!” Her surprise was genuine and her smile grateful.

In the foyer he stalled looking at dried flowers, a colorful print, an umbrella stand – anything but her.

“When I woke up you were gone,” she sounded hurt and he felt bad. Her fingers raked his chin and she grinned, “But here you are. Landon.” Her voice became dreamy her comment not directed at him, just a statement, “With me. My rock.”

He noticed the way her hair came up in curls from her hairline and wanted to touch.

“Are you hungry? Where did you go?”

Laugh lines around her eyes made him want to smile and he felt selfish for not giving in.

Taking his hand in hers she pulled toward the living room, “The sheriff called today. And I spoke with my lawyer.”

He watched their hands rise between them when she stepped away urging him to follow, stretching their arms out until she had to stop or let go.

“I’m so glad…” and she paused standing with her bare feet in a spot of sun on the hardwood floor.

He tried to resolve the smiling creature in blue jeans and loose knit top with bands that circled her body making him think of rainbows and sunlight with the wonton plaything that had stepped into Ethan’s arms at Mason’s.

She came close again and rested her fingers on his chin. He could feel her warm exhalations on his neck. Her blue eyes were gentle, imploring him to speak, to be with her. To step into her world.

When she leaned the softness of her breasts on his chest highlighted the stiffness of his own body. When her hands intruded beneath his arms and circled his body he relented.
Breathing deep the fragrance of her hair he pulled her to him and searched for her ear in a fall of mahogany locks and nuzzled.

“Oh, Landon,” she moaned.

His words were gentle, “I’m sorry, Creolla. I think I’m lost.”

She kissed the small of his neck, “No, Landon. You’re here. With me.”

“Yes,” he whispered.

Her lips were warm on the side of his neck. “Yes,” she sighed in return.

His hands moved down her back hugging and exploring. His fingers found the edge of her jeans and slid in.

She leaned into him in a swoon and he kissed the top of her head. In one swift move he swept her into his arms and carried her to her bedroom where he threw her on the bed. Standing over her he pulled on his belt, jerked at his zipper, pulled his shirt over his head, and watched her pull her top off and struggle frantically with her jeans.

Toeing his shoes off he hooked his thumbs in his slacks and boxers and shoved them past his knees. When he stood his cock bobbed and waved. An angry baton set to direct the next movement of the Rhapsody they’d become.

Knees at her chest still struggling with her jeans he fell on her. Fingers digging between her upturned thighs he grabbed the crotch of her panties and pulled. They came away wet which only drove him madder with desire.

She whimpered when the lacy material broke. Shoving her arms back he trapped her jean covered knees with his chest, shifted until the head of his cock found her wet spot, braced with both hands on the mattress and pushed all the way in.

Her eyes closed, her breath caught and her tongue found her lips.

The back of her thighs were soft and hot against his hard stomach as he rode her, took her. Her head rocked on the pillow and she mumbled her breathing finding cadence in his thrusts.
He was lost in the feeling, the soft wet grip that held him, massaged him, urged him to release.
When that grip tightened and she fixed him in a wide eyed stare he hurried to catch up, to take her hand and plunge headfirst into the ether with her.

Her grunt was unladylike, his growl harsh and menacing. He felt her shiver turn to quakes, her knees pushing up as she strained to stretch her body and ride the wave.

He exploded with the fury of a god and felt just as empowered as Creolla writhed beneath her stuttering moans his only council.

The room was dark as they lay panting, a tangle of half removed clothes and sweaty bodies. Her fingers played lazily in his hair and his ran across the inside of her thigh.

“Where are you,” she finally asked dreamily.

“Lost,” he said for the second time that afternoon.

“Lost?” she sounded concerned.

Pushing her knees off his chest he rolled and licked the inside of her thigh.
Her hand found the top of his head and twirled a curl.

With a swipe of his tongue he stroked her still swollen clitoris.
She moaned distractedly.

With a nudge to her hand he kissed his way to her naval and licked.
“Lost?” she sounded uncertain.

He kissed the soft skin of her belly and licked his way to the center clasp on her bra.
“Lost?” she giggled.

His hand snaked between their bodies and released the clasp and his head nudged the flimsy material aside so he could capture a nipple and suck it into his mouth.

“Lost,” she moaned her hands coming to the back of his head trapping him there.

He found her other breast with his hand, his warm palm pressing, her other nipple trapped between his fingers.

Her fingers raked lazily through his hair.

With another nudge to her hand he was on top of her, his eyes level with hers, his lips a hairs breadth away from hers.

“Lost?” she whispered.

“In you,” he said and kissed the words he dared not speak.

This time he was gentle and loving. He wandered her body with attentive care and marveled in renewed discovery.

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