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Subject: {ASSM} "Dream Maker" {Dancer} (MF rom slow) [3/5]
Date: Tue, 1 Apr 2003 09:10:02 -0500
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Warning: "This [work of prose] contains scenes of
nudity, sexuality and coarse language.
[Reader] discretion is advised."
(I.E. If it's illegal/dangerous to read/possess
pornography where you are, don't bother.)
Disclaimer: Dancer - the authoress of this work -
and Empath - its 'publisher' - take no
responsibility due to any harm or
misfortune that befalls someone from
reading or possessing this work.
Copyright: This work of prose is the intellectual
property of Dancer, and is protected by
the Berne Convention. *Unauthorized*
publication or redistribution is
prohibited.
{Non-legalese translation: if you want to put this
on a web site, just drop us an email; we'll probably
say yes. :)}
Bonus Question: Where is the quote in the 'Warning' from? :)
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<1st attachment, "Dreamkr3e.txt" begin>
Dream Maker (3/5) (cons, pett, humor)
Dancer 2002 (c)
I felt one of his hands tugging the hem of my top out
of my trousers. He slid his warm fingers underneath
it, caressing my skin with the lightest of touches. It
hit me just then where we were, a public dance hall. I
turned my head away and tore my swollen mouth from
his. I looked into his half-lidded eyes, sighed with
regret and laid my forehead against the crook of his
right shoulder. "Max, we have to stop," I managed to
said after a moment to collect my scrambled thoughts.
He hummed and replied, "Yeah, we'd better. No need to
give everyone a show." He was as out of breath as I
was, a reminder that it wasn't only me having some
pretty intense feelings during the kiss. I took a step
back and removed my arm from around his neck, staring
at a spot on the floor. I quickly pulled his Stetson
off my head, reached blindly behind me for one of his
hands and thrust the felt brim into his slack grip.
"Here. You'll want this back now," I said shakily,
twisting in his embrace to find my glasses. My fingers
touched the cold metal bows and I settled them on my
face again, then smoothed down my hair to keep from
looking at him.
Max reluctantly let me go, running the brim through
both sets of fingers. "Amanda, I..." he paused and
licked his lips. The hesitation made me glance up. His
feet shifted restlessly in place as he searched for
the right thing to say. "I really liked kissing you
and I was wondering if...maybe...you'd like to head
home and...kiss me some more." His soulful brown eyes
caught mine and I could see the pleading mirrored in
them. I laughed weakly, shocked and in disbelief over
what he'd said. My thoughts tailspinned. What was I
suppose to say? Whimpering, I dropped down in my chair
simply because my legs felt limp, watery and unable to
hold my weight. He tossed his hat onto the table and
crouched down in front of me, saying, "Put your head
between your legs if you feel faint. I didn't mean to
throw you for a loop." He grasped my hands, set them
in my lap and started chafing the insides of each
wrist with his fingers.
"No, er, yes," I answered, finally finding the
strength to talk. "I mean, no, I don't feel faint, and
yes, take me home." His movements stilled and he
peeked into my face. I went shy all of a sudden and
dragged some of my loose hair forward to hide my
expression.
"What about the rest of it?" he asked, creating a part
in the dark veil so he could see me better.
I knew where 'the rest of it' would lead and so did
he, or he wouldn't be specifically asking me that. My
daydream on the ride into Tulsa popped into my brain,
prompting me to ask, "You don't have a gun belt and a
pair of Colts hanging off your bedposts, do you?"
"No, and my bed frame doesn't have posts to hang
anything from," he answered, his face showing
confusion at my question but his mouth hinted at a
grin. "Why or should I even ask?" Now he was truly
grinning. He leaned his head to mine and pressed his
smiling lips into the patch of hair covering my right
ear. "But I can find some if you're into that kink,"
he whispered boldly and I gasped softly, squeezing my
hands into fists.
I growled against his cheek, "Maxwell Stone, you...-
whatever the male version of a minx is!"
He moved his face back, catching my fists with his
open palms as he rocked on his haunches. "Hmm, you're
saying Amanda Kiss the romance writer doesn't know
that? I'm surprised. I figured you'd used 'rogue'
plenty of times in your books." Now I knew why he'd
grabbed my hands. I struggled to free them and pummel
his chest, but he held me prisoner in his strong grip.
"No, but I have used rake, scoundrel, wretch, cur,
bounder, blackguard, rascal and rotter!" I hissed, mad
at being hoisted by my petard. "You make my brain go
all ka-blewie so I can't think straight!"
"I know the feeling," he replied and stood up, his
hold on my wrists forcing me to follow. He did?
"You do?" My voice was a breathless whisper. He merely
nodded, then switched one wrist over to his right hand
and snatched up his Stetson. "I'm not going to hit you
now. The heat of my anger has passed," I yawned
delicately and batted my lashes at him.
"Too bad," he replied and perched the hat on top of my
curls. "What's that line Corrigan said to Alicia in
'Branded'? Ah, yes," his mouth hovered above mine as
he delivered the sentence of dialogue in a flat,
Midwestern accent, "'Getting you riled makes it just
that much sweeter.'" He kissed me quick and tightened
his hold around my wrists as he dragged me through the
rest of Trucker's.
"You son-of-a-bitch!" I shouted, not caring who heard
me. "You read my book!" Damn it! The soles of my shoes
refused to find purchase on the floor as I kicked my
legs out and tried to hold my ground. They skidded and
scraped across the sawdust-strewn, wooden floor while
Max hauled me in his wake. Jesus Jones, he had a
strong grip! I twisted and turned my wrists between
his fingers, then settled for some old-fashioned
yanking by throwing all my weight backwards. Oh, screw
this. "Help! Somebody help me!" I yelled to the crowd
surrounding us. "I'm being repressed! Held against my
will! Removed bodily without my consent! Kidnapped!"
Some of the other patrons watched the proceedings
while the bulk of them ignored my cries.
Max didn't, couldn't. He suddenly halted, whipped
around, hauled me flush against his chest and swatted
the palm of his left hand across my butt with such
anger I shut-up immediately. His eyes were slitted and
his tone low and harsh as he told me, "Good. Now stay
that way." He butted his shoulder into my stomach and
I choked as the wind got knocked out of me. I dangled
over his back, my head close to his rear and my legs
imprisoned to his front by an arm across the crooks of
my knees. Mental note - having a man carry you out of
a dance hall over his shoulder was mortifying and very
exciting. I heard him thank someone for returning his
Stetson. It'd fallen off during my battle for freedom.
He swirled around and strode out the side door to his
pickup, yanked open the passenger door and tossed me
unceremoniously across the bench seat.
=======
He slammed the door shut and raced around the front,
opening his door before she had a chance of locking
it. She'd sat up and huddled like a scared rabbit
against the door panel, obviously shocked over being
manhandled. He jammed the key into the ignition switch
and cranked the motor, wondering what possessed him to
treat her like that. He glanced over at her. Her dark
hair was a wild cloud framing her face and her blue
eyes bright behind the lenses of her glasses. All
thoughts of apology scattered as he drank in the sight
of her. "Amanda," he growled. "Sit next to me."
Cautiously, she scooted across the seat toward him
until their thighs touched. "Good girl. Here's your
hat back." He dropped the Stetson on her head and she
adjusted it to fit better. He shifted into drive with
his right hand and pulled out, draping the same arm
around her shoulders as he headed for home.
At first, she sat stiffly under his arm but gradually
relaxed and rested the side of her face against him.
The silence got to him. "I'm sorry I dragged you out
like a side of beef," he said gently, the earlier fire
dowsed. "I don't know what got into me. I don't treat
women like that and I apologize." She didn't answer
and he figured she'd fallen asleep. He drove the rest
of the way with his thoughts keeping him company.
Unpleasant company. What caused him to react so
forcefully rude? He replayed the evening in his mind,
starting from the minute he kissed her. Her lips got
malleable the instant he pressed his mouth against
them and she'd let him stick his tongue between them
to taste her warmth. Nothing wrong there. Definitely
not, unless her molding her soft places around his
hard ones was a bad thing. Then she'd asked if he
owned a gun belt and guns and he'd said no, but he'd
get some if she was into that game. He had kidded her
about not knowing what the word rogue meant. Was that
when the tide turned? No, not then. Later, when he'd
quoted a line from her latest novel. She'd called him
a bastard and started fighting back.
"Did you get mad because I'd read your book?" he asked
quietly and she shifted in his light embrace. He
brushed his lips over the crown of his hat. "I didn't
know it was yours. Remember? You write under a
pseudonym and I didn't know you were her until
tonight. Want to know why?" He paused for a response
that didn't come. "My mother made me do it. She
devours romance novels like a lioness at a zebra feed
and wanted to disprove my notion of those types of
books being tawdry garbage. I skimmed through the
first third of it, bored to tears and coming to the
conclusion my opinion was correct. Then I hit the big
love scene in chapter twelve. I don't know how you got
all those dirty epithets and the bestiality scenes
with Corrigan's dog and horse by Kilroy's morality
board, but thank you. I highlighted them so I could
find them in a pinch. You can check my copy in the
library at home if you don't believe me." Max raised
his left knee up to steady the wheel, thanking Christ
he was on a straightaway while he reached between his
thighs and manipulated himself to a different
position.
Since he was positive she slept, he decided to throw
caution to the wind and get a little naughty. He
slowly picked up her left hand and placed it palm open
and down along his arousal. "Mmmm," he moaned behind
closed lips and grabbed the wheel with his hand again.
Even with her not doing anything, it still felt great
to have her hand cradling his length through his
clothes. The fit was perfect for him. The bottom of
her palm touched his tip and her nails just brushed
his base. He decided to take it farther. He checked
all of his mirrors for anyone coming up behind him,
saw nothing but darkness and slowed his speed from
forty-five to twenty miles per hour. He breathed as
silently as he could and tried not to jar her too much
when he unbuttoned the closure of his jeans. The
zipper tab slid down the brass teeth and he eased the
back of his hand under hers, holding it up while he
extricated his member through the opening of his
boxers and jeans. Waiting for her to wake up, he
carefully let her palm cover him and crossed his eyes
when their heats meshed.
Amanda whimpered. Max gunned the engine and floored
the gas pedal, the needle of the speedometer rising up
and beyond the legal limit. The hand touching him
moved and started stroking his erection. "Are you
awake?" he demanded. She giggled softly, raking two
nails playfully through his crotch hairs. He growled
her name and she responded with more giggles. "You
were never asleep, were you?" He felt her shake her
head against his shoulder. Her fingers trailed up to
his head, circled the prominent ridge twice and
slipped between his torso and him. They wrapped
themselves around his cock while her thumb rubbed the
velvet flesh of his glans. "Ohhh, that's nice," he
groaned and somehow made the turn onto his driveway.
He drove in halfway, then parked and switched the
motor off. "Is there a reason for you not speaking?"
he asked in a throaty tone.
"You spanked me, I shut up and you told me to stay
that way," she replied, gently squeezing his shaft.
"It's the one thing Alicia and I have in common. We
shut up when our men tell us to. A flaw, I know, but
getting muzzled can cut down on breathing and it's not
as much fun as obedience." The fingers working his
cock pumped a bit faster and steadied into a nice hand
job while she talked. "Besides, obeying will get me
what I want quicker than fighting."
"This is going to sound strange," Max said, stilling
her delightful work and removing her hand. "I've
gotten inspired and I have to write it out on the
computer before the idea leaves me."
"Go," she answered. "I know that feeling myself. Do
what you have to." 'What a loaded sentence,' he
thought. He turned on the motor, shifted into gear and
pulled up outside the garage. He didn't bother putting
the truck inside. He parked and got out, running to
the front door and bursting through it. She hurried
after him and closed the door behind her, making sure
it was locked. She found him in the room he'd exited
earlier, obviously his office. He sat at a desktop
computer and typed out his inspiring thoughts onto the
monitor via the keyboard. Leaning against the open
doorway, she watched him work for a while with a smile
upon her face. Yep, she knew exactly how he felt. A
part of her longed to read his writings but she left
him be and padded down the hall to her room.
=======
I reached my room and strolled inside, kicking my
shoes off at the foot of the bed and throwing 'my'
cowboy hat on top of the dresser. I pulled out my
wallet, stuck it back in my jacket and hung it over
the corner of the closet door. I shut the bedroom door
while I was over there and tugged my blouse out of my
pants and over my head. It got tossed onto the floor
and I undid the catch of my slacks, unzipping them and
shoving them down my legs. My panties went along with
them. I stepped out of the pile, reached behind me and
unhooked my brassiere, letting it slide off my arms
and hands with a sigh. Sitting almost naked on the
edge of the bed, I thumbed off both socks and rubbed
the marks the elastic made in the skin above my
ankles. It felt good to finally get out of my
traveling clothes, even though Max wasn't here to
appreciate my nudity. That was okay. Work came first
for him. I could relate.
I threaded my fingers into my hair and massaged my
scalp in exaggerated circles. It needed another good
brushing before I went to bed tonight. Yech. I felt
like a dog shedding its winter undercoat except my
undercoat never fell out during the summer months.
Toronto didn't get scorchingly hot and humid then and
I managed to stay cool wearing my hair up, plus I had
central air in my condo. Money does have its
advantages, I guess. I untangled my fingers and stood
up, heading to the dresser and pulling open the second
drawer. I brought out one of my sleep shirts, slipped
my arms into the sleeves and stuck my head through the
ribbed neckline. The cotton was soft against my skin,
worn that way by a thousand washings and dryings. This
one was my favorite and made me feel all cuddly and
huggable as the hem brushed my kneecaps while the rest
of the material clung to my curves. Wiggling my toes,
I shut that drawer and opened the top one to get a
pair of bobby socks. I unrolled them, did the one-
legged, flamingo dance as I put them on my feet and
decided to investigate the rest of Max's house.
He said I was next to the bathroom, so I flipped on
the wall switch of the first room I came to. Yep,
definitely the washroom. I turned off the light and
continued on my way. At the corner, there was a
junction of a small corridor and I looked down it,
seeing Max typing away in his office. His posture was
slouched a little bit from the wide stance of his
stretched out legs. His feet were bare and he stroked
the big toe of his right foot along the plastic edging
of his computer desk. Instead of an overhead light, he
opted for two strategically placed lamps both set in
opposite corners of the room to cut the glare they
might cast on the screen. The fly of his jeans was
still open but his member was hidden carefully under
his boxer shorts. "Well, damn," I muttered and
returned to my nosing.
The next door I came to was closed, so I opened and
spied some stairs going down. Must be the basement. I
shut it quietly, not wanting to disturb my host
writing away. Okay, I knew this bit now. I stood at
the end of the main hall with the front door to my
right at the far end. The third room had open archways
instead of doors, one on either end. From the shelves
of books, a chair, lumpy chesterfield and reading
lamps, I figured this was the library he mentioned. I
sauntered through the closer archway and gazed at the
shelves, noting the books were arranged alphabetically
by the author's last name. Mostly paperbacks and some
hardbacks, a good percentage of the hard covers his
own novels. Walking over the shelf holding the 'eses',
I pulled out what I assumed was his first, published
book with Kilroy Canada, flipped the rear cover back
with a thumb and read the bio printed on the flysheet.
It was his first book -ever-! The picture was the same
and I made a face at it, sticking my tongue out. I
closed it and checked out the front cover artwork. It
was of a single man in a torn military-type uniform
holding a futuristic pistol in one hand with the
typical, reddish, Martian landscape in the background.
He definitely fell into the 'hunk' category.
I slid it back in its spot and perused the remainder
of the books, scanning the names quickly as I worked
my way backward to the 'kays'. There I was. I smiled.
He had four of my novels - 'Branded', 'Reaching for
the Stars', 'A Present for Halloween', and 'Simply
Jessica'. On impulse, I pulled out 'Reaching' and
peeked at the portraits under the top flap. Aha!
Matilyn, the heroine, had her uncorrected, auburn mane
cascading over Craig's arm as he bent her over it and
plundered her bared throat with kisses. Tapping it
against my chin thoughtfully, I wondered if Max
realized he had a collector's item sitting in his
library. "What are you doing in here?" Max said
loudly, grabbing at my ribs and making me yelp. I spun
around and slapped my book hard across his stomach.
"Sneak much?!" I cried in reply after hitting him.
He rubbed his wounded abs. "I see you found my porn
stash."
"This is not porn," I argued and waved my novel under
his nose.
"Maybe not this one," he countered, taking it from me
and replacing it on the shelf. He snagged 'Branded'
and tapped it with his left fingers. "Now this, on the
other hand...would you care for an example?" He
thumbed through the dog-eared pages until he reached
chapter twelve and my jaw dropped in shock. Yellow
highlighter marked every line on every page from
number 187 thru 203. He saw my wide-open mouth and
chuckled, "Thought I was lying, didn't you, Amanda?"
He leaned his head near mine. "Had to check it out for
yourself. Am I right? Hmm?"
"No," I protested and crossed my arms under my
breasts. "I was walking around and learning the layout
of your house. And I don't need you to read me an
example. I wrote the stupid thing. I know what's in
there." I huffed and stuck my chin up in a defensive
posture, positive he was going to keep arguing.
"You know," he began, gesturing with the book he held.
"I can see you through that shirt."
"Oh you can, can you?" I replied and pursed my lips.
My eyes stared at his as I told myself not to look
down and confirm his findings. I knew the cottony
fabric was a touch on the thin side but it wasn't as
if he could see the hue of my areolae or anything. My
pubic hair, yes, I'll give him that only because it
was as dark as my head hair and created visible
shading at the apex of my legs.
"What? You want me to prove my point?" He assumed a
stance akin to my own and raked his brown eyes up and
down my body. "Your pubes are blackish."
"A gimme," I retorted and tugged a lock of my hair.
"Okay then. Your nipples are several shades darker
than the rest of your skin, probably a dusky brown
with a hint of pink." An eyebrow shot up into his
hairline. "And erect, too."
"A lucky guess and an identical description of
Alicia's from that book."
"Alright but how about this?" His tongue slid across
his bottom lip, wetting it thoroughly. "Under your
crossed arms and a few inches below your right breast
are two tiny moles about half an inch apart with one
slightly higher than the other."
"Nuh-uh," I said and rubbed the fingers of my left
hand over the area, just to be certain I was right.
"They're freckles, not moles. My doctor says so."
He sighed, planted his hands on his hips and rolled
his eyes toward the ceiling. "Mole, freckle, skin
discoloration...whatever. Same difference. But they do
prove my claim of your shirt being too thin."
I unfolded my arms and poked an index finger at his
sternum, saying, "Wrong! Moles and freckles are not
the same thing. Freckles pop up due to exposure to
sunlight. So there." I gave an extra poke for his
troubles. "And so what? I like this shirt. It's
snuggable and comfy and perfect for sleeping in."
"Alright, I concede," Max replied, lifting his hands
up. "Don't you want to know why I snuck up on you?"
"Weeell...maybe," I hedged and smoothed the front of
his shirt across his chest.
"If you're going to be like that-"
I grabbed his bent arm with both hands. "No, wait.
Tell me."
"I need your help," he explained briefly, glancing
downward and realizing his fly was wide open. He
closed the gap hurriedly. "I'm working on a love scene
between Dalton and Mona and I can't seem to get the
details right. Would you give it a look-over, please?"
"Okay," I sighed. I exited the library first, asking
over my shoulder, "Where are...Dalton and Mona?"
"On the far side of Mars hiding in the backroom of a
seedy bar," he answered and I stopped with a groan.
"I meant plot wise, you dope." I turned to face him
and tossed my hair back. "Are they friends? Enemies?
Does she want him and he hates her, or vice versa? Is
the temperature dropping? Do they need to stay warm?
Is she whining? Is he bitching and complaining? That
kind of thing."
Stuffing a hand in one pocket and combing his hair
with the other, he replied, "Dalton works for the
federated government as a freelance troubleshooter,
tracking down criminals, protecting witnesses and the
like. The U.F.M. hired him to find Desdemona Cantrel
and escort her safely to Mars base five-nine for her
debriefing. Mona's an informant for the Martian D.E.A.
working undercover as Krieg Giger's accountant-"
"But she got discovered and now there's a contract on
her head, right?" I interrupted, slightly annoyed at
the bulk of unnecessary info he told me. He nodded.
"Jesus Jones. It's the 'woman has sex with bodyguard'
storyline." I snapped my fingers. "Easy. No prob, Max.
I can write that in my sleep. And have."
"Amanda, that's not the problem," he said with
exasperation, shaking his head. "What I need help on
is the logistics. Usually when I write out a scene
with Frieda and Dalton, they're in her bed. But with
this one, they're hiding behind a stack of liquor
crates with little floor space and the only thing
available is the nearest wall."
"So? Do it against the wall."
"But I've never done it that way!" he cried out. "And
don't tell me it's the same as doing it in a bed
because it's not!"
Damn, he did get loud when he was mad. I cringed,
feeling like a heel for not really helping. I knew his
frustration. I'd had it plenty of times and had to
rely on asking my best friend, Connie, to help me act
out the troubling scene, especially if it was a
position I hadn't personally experienced. "Max?"
"What?" he said, his tone still heated.
"Sometimes when I'm stuck writing, it can help if I
act it out." I clasped my hands together and began
wringing them. He looked at me and waited while I
gathered my courage, took a deep breath and blurted
out, "Pretend I'm Mona, you're Dalton and take me."
=======
He gulped and merely continued to look at her,
positive she hadn't said what he thought he heard. He
stuck his left pinkie finger in his ear and wiggled it
around in the canal. "Excuse me?"
"You heard me," she answered and backed herself up
against the closest wall. "I'm Mona and really scared.
Console me." She held her arms out to him and he
stepped into the open space they created. Her hands
came around his neck and she whispered, "We don't
actually have to have sex. We can pretend that part,
too. I'm sure all you need to know is how it feels and
where all the arms and legs go." Her cheeks flushed
and the tip of her nose pinkened, betraying her
embarrassment.
"Okay," he replied, settling his palms over her hips
and pulling her lower body firmly against his. "But
promise me one thing. If you start getting all warm
and excited, my name's Max, not Dalton."
"I promise," she breathed and raised her right foot
off the carpet. He caught it with his left hand
outside her knee and stroked his fingers along the
soft skin of her thigh. They trailed upward, pushing
the hem of her nightshirt up passed her hip. Slowly,
he rocked his pelvis and rubbed the fly of his jeans
into the cradle of her womanhood. She hummed, a lazy
smile tugged at her mouth and she speared her fingers
through his hair, dragging his face to hers. Their
mouths touched, then opened, each offering the other a
taste. He groaned and brought her right knee up to his
waist, feeling her wrap the limbs around his body and
securing one foot over the other. With his arms free
to move, he braced his forearms along the wall and
sank both hands into her wavy tresses.
Max's cock grew hard again and tented the placket of
his pants, giving Amanda something to feel. He thrust
himself up and against her softness. The wet heat of
her most intimate place burned through the twin layers
of clothing covering his shaft, making him speed up
his movements. Her arms and legs squeezed him tighter
and she started purring into his mouth as she bucked
against him. She wasn't acting anymore than he was.
The ridges of her turgid nipples dug into the material
of his shirt and prodded his chest. He pressed closer,
mashing her breasts with his upper body and chafing
her backside across the pebbled wall as he thrust
harder and faster against her. He released her
yielding lips and rained chaste kisses along her face,
murmuring, "Amanda, please let me inside. I need to be
there." He nipped the fleshy lobe of her ear and
suckled it to soothe the light pain away. She mewed
and whimpered tiny noises into his hair, clutching him
harder when her body began to quiver with orgasm.
"Ohhh, ohh, Max," she moaned seconds before burying
her face into the crook of his neck. He felt the body
beneath him tense up as her muscles contracted,
freezing in place briefly, then she relaxed and a
trickle of wetness dampened his fly. He rubbed his
cloaked member along her quim, soaking up her juices
with his thick denim seam. Her swollen, outer labia
had flowered apart and he was able to slide against
the tender, inner flesh. He ground his pelvis into her
and she arched her head up, crying his name again when
he came in contact with her distended clitoris. He
slowed his hip movements and gradually eased away,
letting her come down at her own pace.
Breathing in her ear, he whispered, "I did good, huh?"
"Mmmmm," she hummed in satisfaction along his left
cheek and smoothed down his tousled hair. He slipped
his right arm behind her back while she unlocked her
feet and gently lowered her legs. He stepped back to
give her some room but she went with him, gazing up at
him and refusing to let go. "My legs are all shaky and
stuff," she informed him, blinking her eyes to focus.
Her hands reluctantly pulled away and she removed her
glasses, lifting part of her shirt and wiping the
lenses with it. He continued to keep his arm around
her, rubbing the indentation of her spine with his
fingertips. Peering into his face, she scolded him.
"You got my glasses dirty with your sweaty nose."
"Oh, well shit then," Max drawled out. "I'll remember
to take them off next time."
"Re-he-heally?" Amanda replied, replacing her manmade
eyes. "And what, pray tell, gives you the idea there
will be a 'next time'?" She squealed as he swept her
off her feet and into the cradle of his arms.
"Because I'm going to write it that way," he told her
in a tone that brooked no arguing.
As he carried her down the hall toward his office, she
huffed, "We'll just see about that, Maxwell! You
aren't the only author in this house!"
"I know," he replied with a saucy grin and pecked a
quick kiss on her lips. "I'm going to need all the -
help - you can give me. Romance is your bread-and-
butter and I can dream up a thousand different ways in
which Dalton and Mona get it on; so to speak." He
sauntered over to his padded chair and sat down,
holding her across his lap. "Like a pilot's chair."
She slapped his shoulder. "You can't have intercourse
that way! How will Dalton be able to read the flight
console?"
"I never said anything about intercourse," he
corrected and slid her off his lap so she knelt
between his legs and the desk. "I modeled the 4J71
land cruiser's flight controls after my computer desk
which means-"
"-there's plenty of space -under- the main consol,"
she finished, smirking. "And since you're soooo into
details, you want me to give you a blowjob."
He looked aghast at her presumptive tone. "Miss
Kesselring! How dare you question my research
techniques?" She blew a puff of air out of the corner
of her mouth and rolled her eyes. He grinned, resting
his elbows on the chair arms and steepling his fingers
together. They both knew he was kidding but after the
intimacy outside the library, he had to attempt to
talk her into sucking him off or he'd be kicked out of
the male gender. She leaned her head on top of his
right leg and ran her hands up and down his calf. He
touched a hand to her lush hair, stroking it off her
face. They sat like that for a long time, neither of
them speaking and both enjoying the quiet, peaceful
air around them. The hands on his calf ceased moving
and he softly called her name. "Amanda? Are you
awake?" She didn't answer. He listened at the easy,
deep sounds of her breathing and chuckled. She had
fallen asleep, for real this time.
Putting every effort in to not wake her, he slipped a
hand under her head and lifted it off his thigh. He
cautiously stood by bracing her shoulders and back
against his leg and shoved the chair out of the way.
He crouched down, looped her limp, left arm around his
shoulders, eased his left arm under the crooks of her
knees and slowly hoisted into the air. She wiggled and
mumbled incoherent groans. He stopped cold and held
his breath. She adjusted herself so both arms were
around his neck and her nose burrowed into the warmth
of his body. Once she stilled, he exhaled a long
breath through his nose. Decision time now. Her
bedroom was just down the hall and to the left but his
was closer, right next door to his office. Max was no
wimp in the strength department, but his muscles
protested at carrying her dead weight and started to
buckle. That settled it. He walked through the open
entrance of his room, over to his rumpled bed and
placed Amanda on top. She moaned in her sleep and
curled up in a fetal position, knees tucked up to her
ribs. He managed to get one blanket from under her
prone body and draped it over her, reaching down to
remove her glasses and pressing a light kiss to her
temple.
=======
more to come...
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