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The time grew late. Everyone wanted the closing ceremonies to end so they could leave. The get-together was fun. Sadly, though, fun had its limits. The onset of dusk marked the end of the outdoor get-together for Albuquerque's finest. The cops were calling it a day.
After nearly an hour of making certain that no trash remained, Rikki and Erik watched the last Chevy Suburban carry the last of the people away.
"It's just us," Erik said to her.
Her tapered eyebrows traveled up then down, before relaxing. She agreed with a sly grin. She smirked, not expecting anything to follow beyond frivolous small-talk. The afternoon of loud back and forth exchanges between the party-goers had finally died down. All that lingered was the way that Erik looked at Rikki. Earthy, human emotions hung in the still air around them. And it had nothing to do with policing.
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He looked at her with a visual assertiveness and optical penetration. She desperately wanted to stand firm against it. To show that she couldn't be seduced--like so many other women who had fallen victim to his irresistible charms. She should've hitched a ride home with the others, but it was too late.
He wanted her. His overpowering masculinity devoured every shred of resistance she had brought to the picnic. "It's all over but the shouting," he said with a soft, yet heavily masculine tone--referring to the party that had concluded in what seemed like a long time ago.
Not realizing that she had done so, she stepped closer to him. He touched her chin. She closed her eyes, tilting her head to best fit his welcoming palm. Her wonderment about what it would be like was rekindled with a white-hot sizzle. She opened her eyes to see his chest muscles flex beneath his cotton shirt. The feeling hit her harder. Rikki couldn't be certain what she wanted. But it had to come from him. It had to be now.
She had never thought of herself as sexy. But he made her hot and bothered in all ways that counted. She was now in the brilliant light of erotic obviousness. Rikki had high basic morality. But with him she wanted to be good at being bad.
Beneath a partially covered moon that was too timid to peek out to observe this man and this woman, Rikki and Erik had relocated to the back seat of his steel gray, Crown Victoria. When they first got in the car, his fading intention was to drive her home and continue on his way. Looking at her, that all changed.
The final button on her blouse came undone. He took hold of each long, sensitive nipple. His hot breath against her tingly flesh made her pulse race with sexual unreasonableness. His eyes were closed, afraid to keep them that way--for fear of missing out on this up-close examination. Ten eager fingers traveled to slide her plaid skirt up. The removal of her panties occurred without resistance. Morality be damned. She wanted pleasure for its own sake. The variety of which she knew only he could give to her.
In a single motion, she slithered from beneath him, inching atop his wanting face. He ravaged her core as could only a wolf having waited long enough to eat. Her rippling orgasms were seamlessly connected.
"If anyone sees us, our jobs are down the drain," she muttered, wishing to heaven that he would release her--hoping like hell that he wouldn't. "We're supposed to set an example." Then she no longer cared what others thought, relishing having no control over what was about to happen.
Something about him washed away every memory of all of her past lovers. "Don't stop," was her moment of surrender. "It's ok if you hurt me," she hotly purred.
She moaned like a woman who had been wanting for the chance to be set free from personal and emotional turmoil. Parting her knees ever wider, she allowed him a slippery access to her bubbling, workable, center. Gyrating back and forth she again exploded; her journey into paradise had arrived.
Her climax after-shock sent her arms tightly around him. Ten manicured fingernails scratched uneven paths across his spine, love lines into his flesh, holding him steady in her thankful clutches. In the war of conscience, want had triumphed over will.
Many yards away, a distinct splash in the lake distracted them.
"What was that!?" she gasped.
He rubbed his forearm against the steamy glass, unable to see anything beyond. Wearily, they fumbled to throw on their clothes.
She was absorbed by enveloping fear. "Somebody's out there."
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Previous tales:
- A Grain of Rice
- Push Broom, iv
- Push Broom, iii
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