I'm telling you that I don't own this, please don't sue.

Humid Temptations

I remember that first taste of her mouth so many years ago, the way that the swell of her breasts fit so well in my hands. How delicate her graceful neck was as my teeth moved to graze its curves still lingers in my memories. She haunts me.

Everything about her was all a man could ever long for, that fire red hair, those shapely legs that I just want around my back every chance I can get, I was a fool to ever let her go.

I still see her now and again, She's Logan's woman now. That proper clothing she wears doesn't fool me. I still remember every curve, every freckle, and every spot that her clothing just barely hints to. That long pink skirt is a favorite of mine, so prim, but, ever so slightly molding itself to her exquisite backside. That simple, crisp, white shirt captures the fullness of her breasts so perfectly, I cannot help but stare as she leans over to pour Logan another drink. Just a minimal peak of her left one is visible through her neck line as her completely unruly hair tumbles down her right shoulder.

She knows I'm watching, I'm sure as she lingers just a second longer than her task requires. That's our little secret, our little shared moments. Throw backs to when she was mine. I'm getting hard just thinking about her, she doesn't need her telekinesis to do that to me. Jean makes me sweat as she also comes to fill my glass. She fills everyone's like a good little hostess, but mine comes with a mental peek at the white lace she wears. She's teasing me, as I know she doesn't really want me, she wears those for Logan, She's just punishing me. Almost as to say "I saw you looking, here's a taste of what you know you want, but you will never have me."

She would do things like that to me when we were married, before I left her for Emma, just to drive me mad. During meetings, flights and most other times I had to play Cyclops, she would telepathically do to me what she was going to put me through later, and those leather boots she has on isn't helping my problem either.

Emma is sitting beside me and she only has a slight clue as to what's going on, but she doesn't make a scene, to her credit, because she can't prove it. She just glares at us as I remind Jean of something just the two of us know, and we quietly laugh.

Logan puts his arm around Jean, almost as to say "This is mine". His hand is tangled in the mess of curls that cascade off her shoulder as he kisses her gently on her cheek. And she looks lovingly at him. Those looks used to be mine.

I can't take this anymore! I've got to get some relief. Jean has already left to retrieve another glass of wine from the kitchen, the sway of her hips holding my rapt attention as I remember how that sway feels with my hands gripping her hips hard as I bury myself into her. I know she's not torturing me like this on purpose, she just couldn't be that cruel. That swing is just the way she walks, just for Logan, just the way I like it.

Emma has to try to walk like that, with Jean, it's natural, something that's hard to fake. Emma places her hand on my erection as it pushes hard against my pants. She knows it's hers and she digs her nails in to let me know it. She's flirting with Logan outright in that skimpy number she's wearing, but he pays her no mind.

I excuse myself to go to the bathroom and pass by Jean's kitchen. This is the first time she's had us all here. I have to peek through the crack in the door. She's got a light pink stain splashed across her top and the fabric is clinging to her heavy bust as she's trying to scrub it off with a damp sponge. Her shirt is nearly transparent against her skin, displaying her smooth stomach, her lace bra has soaked up so much liquid, it looks like it's melted away. The chill of the wine has brought her nipples to points fully visible under her shirt.

She looks up to see Logan coming in to see what's wrong. He runs his hands over her chest as he kisses her. I watch her have to brace herself on the counter as she reels from the head rush her husband's given her, he has one hand on her rear, lifting her up and the other in that tangle of red hair on the back of her head. I know what they'll be doing tonight and I'm jealous.

He tells her that he'll cover for her while she changes her shirt. She walks towards the door I'm watching from and I hustle towards the bathroom, but I don't make it. I hear her footsteps behind me, and I turn around to see her blushing as she rushes past me with her arms folded across her chest.

I can't help myself, I grab her elbow and push her back against the wall with a thud as I lower my mouth to hers. She's telepathically protesting what I'm doing, so that her husband doesn't hear, and my wife doesn't raise a fit. She's trying to wiggle away, but the warmness coming off her heaving breasts only makes me want this more.

My tongue finds hers and she tries pushing me away staring at me as she mentally begs me to stop. Our bodies melt together, the way they did so many years ago and she moans slightly as she tries again to peel me off, but I don't want to go. What does get me to break our bond is my wife, Emma filling my mind with her voice and the click of her boots down the hall. Jean breaks away from me and hurls down the hall to her room and I just walk towards where everyone else is eating.

"What took you so long?" Emma hisses at me as she grabs me again and leans into me, arching her neck and tipping her chin upward to nibble on my chin. At least her scent will cover Jean's and keep Logan from turning me into live shish kabobs. We return to the table to finish our meal, even with Logan looking at me like I'm deer jerky. Jean comes in with dry clothes, trying for my sake to act like nothing happened, but I still catch myself looking at her as though she's a buffet and I'm a starving man. Then, I remember that she moaned.

She must have enjoyed our kiss, she had to wash her face because instead of powder, I see freckles. She looks at me so shyly, that I can feel my hairline getting moist as though someone has turned up the heat and it only blows on me. Maybe there are things that only the two of us can share, things that nobody else has to know.

Her gaze returns to Logan, who is still staring at me intently as he eats Jean's wonderful cooking, and the two of them joke like lovers do and his hand strays to her knee and Emma's hand plays with the thick hair on my neck.

Thinking of Part Two.