Runaway Ride Part 24

It wasn't long after this that Rosie felt the swelling, blissful agony of a rising climax. But it was all wrong. It wasn't supposed to be this immense, this frightening. She was never frightened by a rising climax before. She liked climaxes, she enjoyed their sweet release. Her last one, the one that had her slos.h.i.+ng around in the tub-that one was surprising, sure. But this one was going to be erupting, and when it did, she wasn't sure what was going to happen.

"Oscar?" she wailed, begging for him to be here, to hold her, to keep her safe. She couldn't get herself to beg him to stop, not at this point. The climax was too compelling now, as compelling as it promised to be overwhelming.

Just before it hit, like he knew what was coming, and probably did, Oscar put his arm around her thigh and clamped his forearm across her slit and hips, holding her firmly down on the mattress. She didn't understand this precaution until the o.r.g.a.s.m swept through her and she was lost to a storm of convulsions. Her hips, and then her thighs, twisted and pulled and writhed. Her hands gripped the sheets, pulling them with tearing force. She was screaming things that she could barely understand and none of them should come out of a grade-school teacher's mouth.

During this maelstrom of agony and ecstasy, Oscar put a finger into her, causing another explosion to wrack her body. f.u.c.king her with this single finger sent her body into fits of awe and wild need. His finger was much larger than hers, and he f.u.c.ked it inside her much deeper than she had ever done to herself. When he added the second finger she was awed by the stretching feeling of her entrance. Adding the third, she felt, was overdoing it, until the o.r.g.a.s.m claimed her.

The idea of multiple o.r.g.a.s.ms never occurred to her either. One was enough, wasn't it? She was sure this was the fourth, and with his fingers continuing to f.u.c.k her, and his lips and tongue still enticing her c.l.i.toris, inciting the pleasure to higher levels, her body was working on the fifth. "f.u.c.k, Oscar! Please! I can't!"

During the next throes of climax, Oscar let her c.l.i.toris go and removed his fingers. The absence of made her feel empty, and her hips rose and fell as if trying to find them again. She was just coming down, when she felt something else press inside of her. She felt herself stretch, and then stretch some more. Opening her eye in wonder and confusion she found Oscar above her, his arms holding him up and his hips firmly between her risen thighs. He was thrusting his c.o.c.k inside of her, and she was certain that it wasn't going to fit.

Her first instinct was to back away and she thought that was what she was doing, but her body appeared to have other plans. And needs. Instead of her a.s.s cheeks scooting her back, they clenched up and helped her hips to push back. Her hips twisted and ground around his c.o.c.k, helping to press him further inside. "Oh my G.o.d, Oscar!" she screamed as he thrust even further inside her quavering p.u.s.s.y.

Fully inside of her, Oscar lowered down to embrace her body. Her arms and legs wrapped around him, pulling him in, wanting him closer. Then Oscar's hips began to pump inside of her with increasing speed.

Rosie's body went insane, and her mind was following along like an excited puppy. The only sounds from her throat were cries and moans of desperation, dismay, and ecstasy. She was sure she couldn't continue, but there was no stopping Oscar now. He had her, completely. She struggled and clawed and dug her heels into the mattress, and nothing slowed him down. In fact, her struggles seemed to incite him to greater speeds and more violent thrusts. Her o.r.g.a.s.ms wracked her with convulsions, sending her head back with her arching spine, extending howls of desire and release into the air above them.

She didn't bother to count her climaxes any longer. But when she felt Oscar begin his climax, her whole body went into a celebration of pride and success. He convulsed and thrust at her wildly. It was frightening, and violent, and she rode him with a scream of defiance.

When he finally collapsed into her arms, she held him, looking past his shoulder at the ceiling, an unbreakable smile on her face.

Oscar rolled off her and she snuggled into him, not wanting to be far from his overheated body. After a long time, their breathing coming easier, she said, "So that's s.e.x," her voice breathy and excited.

"Yes," he replied with a nod, complete satisfaction in his tenor. "That's s.e.x."

She purred and snuggled closer, feeling his arm wrap around her back and shoulders, pulling her close. "I wouldn't change a thing."

Three years later Rosie ran up and down the beach with Danny, laughing and chasing after grunion. She was no longer his teacher, but she was his step-mother, and Danny was doing much better at math.

The whole Pitch Wheels club was at the bond-fire. The laughter and cheer was contagious and embracing.

The wedding, now almost two years ago, was nice, full of people who were genuinely happy that she and Oscar were binding their lives together. Buddy was his best man.

She wasn't sure, after learning what Danny's mother did to Oscar, that Oscar would ever marry her. Not truly. But he surprised her on their first anniversary together with an engagement ring and the request that she move in with him and Danny, full time. "It's been a year," he told her, "and I want you more, not less."

Rosie accepted both offers with celebratory s.e.x.

Girl talk with Kathy, Buddy's wife, has given rise to fruitful information for the bedroom. Kathy was so open and willing to share that at first it embarra.s.sed her, especially when she pulled out a d.i.l.d.o and told Rosie it was time for her to learn how to give head. Rosie, however, got over it long enough to discover a few things that drove Oscar wild, and she did love making him wild.

Oscar's art career was continually rising, and his tormented soul continued to produce amazing works. She held him, loved him, s.e.xed him, but never strove to change him.

Below are some of Ellen Graves' other works to enjoy! Tap the covers for a sample

Crossing the Line.

Kristin Fletcher.

Growing up, Joanna Kraig had one goal in life: escape. More than anything, she wanted to escape the seedy side of town she grew up in and the endless string of equally seedy boyfriends her mother brought home. There was always some new guy warming her mother's bed and, as she got a little older, threatening to warm hers.

She met James when she was beaned with a stray baseball from a pick-up game taking place in the vacant lot next to their adjoining back yards. She went down like a sack of rocks and was dazed for a moment. A hand reached down to help her up, and she went from dazed to dazzled. The sun filtered down through his sandy brown hair like a halo. Bright emerald green eyes looked back at her in concern as he helped her up. For a moment she thought he was an angel.

"Are you okay?" he asked, looking genuinely worried. At 12 years old he was her age, and not really interested in girls. But something stirred inside him as he peered into her ocean blue eyes. He took her to his house, gathered some ice in a towel, and gently held it to her forehead. She sat perfectly still looking at him with wide eyes but somehow managed to mumble a thank you.

From that moment on, they were friends. They were apart so rarely, people found it difficult to think of one without thinking of the other. He was the only person she'd ever known that wanted out as much as she did. They shared their dreams and swore to each other that one day, they'd get out.

They both did-each in their own way. Joanna went to college and then to the police academy, and James joined the Army. It was the first time since they'd met that they were apart for more than a few days. They promised to stay in touch, but it turned out that the one thing that could break their close bond was the Army. Since parting ways, she hadn't heard a word from him.

Joanna went to college on a scholars.h.i.+p/work program and discovered it was difficult finding the time to come home. When she did finally make a visit for Christmas, she found James' house empty and for sale. Joanna asked her mother if she had received anything from James. She got a vague reply of, "No, I don't think so." Bewildered and hurt, she thought he must have moved on. That he must have left his childhood, and her with it, behind.

Now, six years later, she was in the middle of a police raid holding a gun on him and yelling, "Up against the wall!"

"Long time, no see, Warner," she whispered in his ear as she frisked him for weapons. d.a.m.n, he felt good. He'd filled out nicely in the intervening years-his tall form still lean but more muscular, more defined. She inhaled his familiar scent as she swung his arms back to cuff him. Her mind drifted back to the last time they were together, when they'd expressed their love in soft caresses and heated whispers. She had given herself to him heart, body, and soul in a night of ecstasy she had been unable to match since. Heat flashed through her and headed south just from the fleeting memory. She shook her head to clear it as she led him out to her squad car.

The parking lot outside the Free Vipers Motorcycle Club headquarters was bathed in strobing blue and red lights. All in all, the raid had been a bust. They found none of the cocaine they were looking for, but took the few members that were there in for questioning. Someone was bringing drugs into their small town.

Joanna opened the back door of her unit and attempted to help him into the car. He turned at the last moment, his emerald green eyes meeting hers. "Looking good, Kraig." He smiled his crooked, c.o.c.ky smile and ducked into the back seat without her help.

Joanna slammed the door shut and walked away from the car for a moment in an attempt to compose herself. She was practically wet just from frisking him. Half a dozen years go by, and she still reacts to him like this. Anger at being his abandoning her still simmered under the surface, but she wasn't prepared for desire to come bubbling back up to confront her.

James watched her walk away, admiring the sway of her hips as she went. He had instantly begun to respond when she frisked him and his thoughts had gone back to the last time they were together. The night they had given themselves to each other. Remembering the warm embrace of her body, it was a struggle just to keep himself in check. He couldn't let her pat-down discover the physical reaction she elicited from him. But he did have to wonder if she was always so thorough.

He was still p.i.s.sed, and more hurt than he would admit even to himself, that she dropped him so easily when she went to college. Not a word from her all the way through boot camp or any of his additional training. He wrote to her regularly, once a week, and he never received an answer. When he was deployed to Afghanistan, he gave up.

He had carefully walled off his heart and never let another woman in again. The stab of pain he felt when he realized who had him up against the wall surprised him. It surprised him, and quickly morphed into desire when she frisked him. Just thinking about it now sent his blood galloping southward.

He watched her confer some other officers then turn and strut back over to the squad car. d.a.m.n, she was a vision when she walked and even her kevlar vest couldn't hide her luscious curves. She had grown into a woman in the intervening years and if anything, she was even more beautiful now than when he had last laid eyes on her.

Joanna yanked the driver door open and slid behind the wheel. She met his eyes in the rear view mirror and said, "Unless you have something to say about this raid, I don't want to talk."

"Fine." he growled, "I don't have anything to say to you anyway."

"Nothing to say to me! You should have plenty to say to my. Like 'I'm sorry' for one thing."

"Yeah, right. I think I liked it better when we weren't talking."

"Fine."

She pulled out behind the police wagon and tried to just concentrate on driving. It was a hard thing to do when every time she checked her rearview mirror, she met his eyes once again. Angry emerald green eyes that had once looked at her with desire and even love. Why was he so angry? She was the one who was left behind!

Chief Erickson and two other officers questioned the club members while Joanna filled out paperwork and studiously ignored the green eyes boring holes in her back from the holding cell. She filed her reports and gathering her things headed out the door for home. Her s.h.i.+ft was over nearly 2 hours ago and she was exhausted. She didn't realized that those same eyes narrowed with annoyance as she left without a backward glance.

A sigh of pleasure escaped her lips as she sank into the bath. She tried to wash away the memories of James that were crowding out her rational thoughts. She had missed him these last 6 years. Through the anger and the hurt, the bottom line was, she missed him.

As she luxuriated in the hot bath, she found it impossible to keep her thoughts from a steamy August night 6 years earlier. She and James were in his living room splitting a six pack and making out on the couch. It wasn't the first time they'd been alone in his house, but tonight was different. Tonight she was going to let him do all the things she had stopped before. Tonight she wasn't going to say no.

Something in his kiss told her he understood as she relaxed and he molded himself against her. She could feel every hard muscle and every soft touch more acutely than ever. Her mouth was pliant against his as she parted her lips allowing his tongue free rein to tease her own. Grinding her hips against him, Joanna revelled in the freedom of letting go of her restraint as he slipped his hands under her s.h.i.+rt. The warmth of his fingertips sent a s.h.i.+ver up her spine even as heat spread out from her core.

Just the memory of that night sent her hands on a slow journey down her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. She lightly rubbed the flat of her palms across her nipples teasing them into stiff peaks. Closing her eyes, she imagined James' tongue and lips in place of her hands. A slight smile played across her lips as she remembered his light kisses trailing down her stomach, in light, feathery touches.

Just from the memory of his lips, wet and soft, kissing her lips open, Joanna could feel a ball of antic.i.p.ation unwind. She desperately tried to imitate that feeling with her own fingers now, that feeling of his tongue sliding over her, exploring every delicious fold before settling on her c.l.i.toris.

Her fingers danced in the warm water as she immersed herself in the memories. The first tentative strokes of his tongue had sent a jolt of pleasure rocketing through her body. When Joanna moaned her approval he gave himself over to the pleasure of discovery and the silky sweet flavor of her. Her fingers entwined in his hair in the past as one hand gripped the side of the tub in the present. So engulfed in her memory was she that she cried, "Jimmy!" when she came in great shuddering waves of release.

Laying back in the tub, she enjoyed the afterglow as it rolled down her body radiated out to her fingertips. She hadn't had such a strong o.r.g.a.s.m since...well, since that night actually happened. Not even her last boyfriend brought her such satisfaction as her own fingers and memory had brought her now.

It was kind of sad when she thought about it. A memory, a ghost, had just made her feel more alive than she had in years. Now if only she didn't want to clobber the guy who made that memory with her. She was still p.i.s.sed that he left her behind so easily. It had been like losing a limb when she lost him and the phantom pain haunted for years. Now, when she was finally, really moving on, he pops up in a drug raid.

She got out of the tub and into bed telling herself that all she needed was a good night's sleep. But sleep didn't come easily. Laying there, watching to shadows on the ceiling, her mind kept wandering back to James. Why did he have look so good, even better than six years ago. He had filled out in all the right places, replacing wiry limbs with lean hard muscles.

But what had really gotten to her was looking into his eyes. Nearly the same, maybe a little more world-weary than high school, but she saw the same man behind those ridiculously green eyes. He was still her Jimmy. Maybe.

The sky outside her window was beginning to lighten with the false dawn as she finally fell asleep. At least today was her day off. She could sleep as late as she wanted.

A relentless pounding on her door dragged her reluctantly from sleep. She squinted bleary-eyed at her clock. Noon. Well, she guessed 6 hours was going to have to be enough. That didn't mean she had to be happy about it.

"I'm coming!" She yelled as she belted a short robe over her narrow waist. "Stop knocking for crying out loud!"

She yanked to door open ready to be downright cranky with whoever was on the other side. Her irritation quickly turned to surprise when she was pushed inside and pinned against the wall. She looked up into familiar eyes for a brief second before catching her a.s.sailant behind the knee, throwing him off-balance. In the next moment she was sitting astride him pinning his arms to the floor.

"What are you doing here, Jimmy?" she hissed.

He smiled and bucked his hips throwing her off, reversing their positions in the blink of an eye. Now he straddled her and said, "You know, you're still the only one who calls me that."

"Get. Off. Me!"

"No, I want answers and I've been waiting six years to get them." His face was serious now as anger clouded his eyes.

"You want answers! I'm the one who deserves answers!" She spat out at him, "I'm the one who was left behind!"

"You're the one who did the leaving sweetheart." He stood and pulled her up with him. "I enlisted, served our country, and I never heard from you again."

"No, you enlisted and I never heard from you again." She met his eyes and matched the confusion and hurt in them with equal measures of her own.

"Wait, you never heard from me?" He said in disbelief, "I wrote whenever I could; at least once a week, sometimes more"

"I never got your letters, I never knew where to contact you. My mother said you never wrote." Realization slowly dawned on her. "But then, she never liked you. She thought I was better off without you." Her voice caught and the horrible truth became clear. "Oh G.o.d, I don't believe it. All this time..."

"That b.i.t.c.h! I'll swear, I'll kill her!" His eyes lit up with anger again.

"Too late, she died during my first year in college." Her throat closed at the thought of the mother she loved and hated in equal measures. "Car accident."

"Sorry."

"Yeah me too." Then, coming to her senses she said, "You can't be here. You're facing drug charges."

"No, I'm not. The clubhouse was clean."

"How is that possible?" She was incredulous, "All roads lead to that clubhouse; to the Vipers."

"Yeah, not interested in talking about that. I'd rather talk about you, me and your free afternoon."

"But how did you know..." Was all she got to ask before his lips covered hers with a kiss so fierce, her knees buckled. He held her up, his hand on the small of her back and crushed her body to his.

Feeling his need and pa.s.sion in that kiss sparked a chain reaction within her. A fire was rekindled that she thought had been banked forever. This feeling, this ardent desire that had been living so quietly inside her for the past half dozen years, was reawakened and rapidly growing.

She surrendered so completely to that kiss. It was like coming home. She moaned against his mouth and he picked her up, took a step forward hesitating, before following her pointing finger to the bedroom.

He dropped her gently onto the bed and stripped his jacket and s.h.i.+rt off, kicking his boots aside at the same time. Joanna propped herself up on her elbows to meet his kiss once again as he leaned down to untie the belt to her robe. She was still wearing the short, blue nightie she had donned after her bath and he looked at it in appreciation before tugging it up over her head.

He stood again, sweeping his eyes over her nearly naked body as he hastily undid his belt and stepped out of his jeans and boxers. She drew in a sharp breath at his perfection. Her eyes wandered over his sculpted chest and well defined abs. She couldn't help herself when she allowed her eyes to drift lower. She sat up and moved to the edge of the bed licking her lips in antic.i.p.ation.

She heard him take a shuddering breath as she met his eyes briefly before reaching out to touch him. She ran her thumbs lightly over the ripples of his stomach and leaned in to place soft kisses just above his navel. Her hands now sweeping gently over the curves of his b.u.t.tocks.

Sliding her hands back to his abs again she began caressing him again, her touch as light as a b.u.t.terflies wings. Slowly, she felt her way down to the prize she sought, and cupping his b.a.l.l.s, she slid her hand up his shaft. She began slowly, squeezing his c.o.c.k tighter until she was rewarded with a drop of prec.u.m. She looked up into his eyes as her the tip of her tongue flicked out to taste him. He drew in another shuddering breath as she closed her eyes to savor the salty sweetness of him.

She gave his b.a.l.l.s a gentle squeeze and licked the tip of his c.o.c.k, moistening it before taking it into her mouth. She lightly sucked and was rewarded with more of his delicious juiciness. She let the combined wetness of her mouth and his natural lubrication slide down his c.o.c.k as she enveloped him with her warm welcoming mouth. She drew back again spreading the moisture down length of him before following with her lips and tongue once again. She kept this up until she had him all the way in, her nose buried in his pubic hair.

"Joanna." He whispered breathlessly. She took complete control and grabbed his a.s.s by both cheeks now as she drew back again only to pull him toward her as she bobbed her head forward to meet him. He threw his own head back losing himself in sensual overload until he couldn't take it anymore. As good as it felt, he had to stop her. If she kept it up, he was going to come and he wanted, no needed, to be inside her. He wanted to come inside her, not in her mouth. Not now.

Forcefully, almost roughly, he pulled away and pushed her back down on the bed. He tore the thin panties she was wearing from her body and spread her legs apart. He admired her for a brief moment, her spread-eagle position sent more blood rus.h.i.+ng to his already throbbing member.

He knelt between her legs and with two fingers petted the nearly hairless lips of her p.u.s.s.y. He could see the moisture seeping out from between the folds of her s.e.x and using those same fingers, opened her to him. She gasped as he slid one long finger inside her and moaned when he sent the second in to join it. He marvelled at how wet she was, how easily his fingers had gained access and how loudly she was moaning just from this.

Pulling his fingers out, he slid them into his mouth tasting the honey sweet flavor of her. He needed to hear her moan like that again, to drive yet more blood to his swollen c.o.c.k. The antic.i.p.ation of being inside her was almost too much to bear. But not yet, he couldn't deny himself the pleasure of tasting her. Positioning himself between her creamy thighs, he bent his head and slid in tongue inside her. She squirmed and moaned again, louder this time and he thought he heard her hiss the word, "Yes!"

He slipped his tongue out of her, enjoying her antic.i.p.ation, before sliding his mouth up to capture her swollen c.l.i.t between his lips. He sucked gently and she whimpered in pleasure; he sucked harder and she cried out in pleasure. He set his tongue to task and flicked it quickly back and forth over that magical b.u.t.ton as he slid his fingers back inside her. Her moans reached a fever pitch and her muscles clamped down on his fingers tightly as she bucked her hips coming so hard he was almost in awe of it.

He offered his fingers to her and she opened her warm mouth and took them in, cleaning her own essence off of them. This was more than either could bear. Pulling himself up he settled himself between her legs as she reached down to guide him into her slick warmth.

She whispered, "Jimmy." as he filled her and came to rest inside of her for a brief and glorious moment. She was complete again, joined again with the only soul that could make her feel this way. "Oh yes, you feel so good."

He started to move then, gliding in and out of her as she matched his rhythm, her hips pivoting forward to meet him stroke for stroke in perfect unison. She had forgotten in the intervening six years just how high the heights were that she was trying to meet with other men. This is what she could have with no other, this perfection, this unity.

She hitched her legs up over his back crossing her ankles, clasping onto him and moaning his name over and over again driving him to the brink. He kissed her hard as she came, the velvety walls of her v.a.g.i.n.a crus.h.i.+ng him in a vise-like embrace. He buried his face in her neck as she pulled him in even further the head of his c.o.c.k b.u.mping into her cervix triggering his release. He came in an intense burst of energy, feeling as though he pa.s.sed a part of his soul from his body to hers.

He collapsed on top of her and she unclasped her legs, her thighs quivering from the sudden release of tension in her muscles. His lips met hers again in an unspoken declaration of the love they never stopped sharing.

Smiling to herself, Joanna thought, "He is still my Jimmy. No matter what happens, he'll always be mine."