Warning; the following content is sexual in nature and contains mature themes. Please read at your own discretion.
~*~
The top of the old manor house was level and gravel-strewn, presumably with a graded metal roof beneath to control rainfall. It had an insulated hot water tank the size of a tractor tire set in its center. I stopped short of the tank and gazed past it, across the street, where the hedges had long since burnt out. The wail of sirens had almost arrived and I could see flashing lights approaching. There were multiple tones and frequencies to the sirens and a rave-like blend of lights. Whoever made the call had requested the police, fire department, and paramedics. Which was probably for the best, because they might all be needed.
The Pixie strode past me with swaying hips and leaned on the hot water tank with a sigh of satisfaction. She undid her voluminous blue cloak and spread it on the tank’s rubberized surface and leaned forward on both forearms, avidly anticipating the arrival of the authorities.
“Are you sure this is the best part?” I asked skeptically, following until I stood inches behind her, watching the flashing lights over her shoulder. While I had to agree that the results were the purpose behind the violence, I preferred knocking thugs out to observing the aftermath.
“Not just yet,” she said, and I could hear the sly smile in her voice. She reached back with both hands and I took mine in hers and wrapped my arms around her belly. My bare chest made electric contact with the smooth material of her purple rashguard and she shifted and slid back until her hips pressed against the tops of my legs. She drew me closer her until she could feel how badly I wanted her.
I smelled the familiar lavender perfume emanating from the right side of her neck. I arched around and kissed her left collarbone and inhaled the scent of her.
Her mouth met mine as she twisted around but I broke the kiss in shock. I’d smelled the soldier girl’s sweat during our lengthy rolling session at the gym. Until that moment I’d been certain the soldier was the Pixie… but this woman’s sweat was sweeter, her body more supple, and the mystery made me mad with desire.
“I want you inside me,” she said, slightly breathless as she raised on tiptoe to grind her hips against mine and lifted one of my wide hands to touch both of the perfect, tiny breasts through her tantalizing top.
“Could you be more specific?” I asked, freeing my wrists from her little gloved hands. My left forearm sealed her waist in place against me and my right hand wrapped lightly around her throat.
She arched her back and took a long shaky breath and all but whimpered.
“I want you to fuck me,” the Pixie whispered, “right now.”
I grasped her wrists and leaned her forward until her pink leather palms rested on the cloak covering the old water tank. I tapped the inside of her foot with my toe and she spread her legs wider. I lifted the rainbow-striped skirt up onto her lower back so I could see her ass outlined beneath the purple material.
“Don’t move,” I instructed her, and knelt down and retrieved the balisong from my back pocket and unfolded it. The butterfly knife had a short, razor-sharp steel blade. I pinched the purple fabric between the Pixie’s thighs and pulled it down as far as it would stretch then carefully sliced a rough circle of it free. The fabric went in my pocket with the folded knife and I stood up and unzipped my shorts.
The Pixie gasped and bit down on her cloak as I slid through the welcoming hole in her tights into her warm wet embrace. I sighed deeply and bent forward and turned her head so I could taste her lipstick again. She breathed shallow and fast through her nose as she drove her hips backward, trying to absorb every inch of me.
I broke the kiss and straightened my back and put both hands on her shoulders to help accomplish her goal. A catlike moan escaped the Pixie’s lips before she clasped both hands over her mouth and buried her face in the royal blue cloak. As our quickened I slipped a hand down the front of her tights to massage the flower bud between her legs. My other hand wrapped around her throat again and applied pressure to the carotid arteries both sides of her neck.
“Yes,” the Pixie gasped, trusting herself to speak for only a second, “do that!” She muffled her mouth anew as fresh moans echoed from deep inside her. The blissful energy between us built to an unbearable level.
~*~
And that’s all there will be! I’m almost sad to say that I’ve completed the manuscript for The Pixie’s Paramour and will spend most of the month of May editing and promoting it, as well as considering possible avenues of publication. Thanks to everyone who has read and supported my work, and I promise to keep bringing quality to fiction (and the occasional recipe or rant) to this blog!
Lover Fighter Writer 