I would like to send out a heartfelt thank you to a group of wonderfully talented writers who chipped in to help out with this little project. I can only hope that one day I can wield a pen with the same force as these ladies. So go ahead and add this to your favorites. Put it on story alert because you don't want to miss one month.

First up is January and Captain Richard Robau. Check out my profile for a link to a beautiful photobucket album that contains the accompanying photos.

Disclaimer: We don't own them but you know you wish we did.

January - Captain Richard Robau

Skin reminiscent of cinnamon blended with brown sugar.

Smooth planes that curve into the perfect pointed peak on a bald head.

Dark soul stealing gaze that beseeches me to honor every one of the desires whispered on the wind by the parted lips I'm dying to kiss.

I want him.

The idea is intriguing. He'll be my first. Previously all my lovers have been female. The softness of another woman's skin against mine and the tenderness of her touch is a proven aphrodisiac that led to a bounty of pleasure filled experiences.

Then there's him.

Richard Robau. His shoulders square and he lifts his chin as his hand reaches for mine. Automatically I can feel the energy between us. It's appealing. There's confidence in his stride and assurance in the rich tenor of his voice. I watch as girl after girl – because that's what they are: children playing with something clearly reserved for an adult – bows at his bronzed feet. He's a god holding court in the presence of unworthy mortals.

Observing his ways becomes my favorite pastime. The way his mouth molds the words he speaks – the intensity present in his eyes while he's deep in thought – that half smile that lights his face as he teases those he calls friend. The man is a sight to behold.

When we pass each other in the halls, he nods politely, bowing at the waist as he addresses me as "queen". Out of misplaced nervousness my hand reaches for the locks messily arranged in a crown of blondes and browns. Under lowered lashes I attempt to shield my embarrassment. A smile is the only response I have to offer. I'll remember it as the day that intrigue delved beyond fascination and deepened into a heady lust swirling around me whenever he's in view.

I can feel his calloused hands on my body. They're the hands of a man who's known a life of struggle and hard work.

"I play as hard as I work."

He whispers in my ear. The heat pools between my legs.

Freeing my hair, he watches in silent adoration as one by one the coiled strands fall and frame my shoulders. He laces one hand through my hair – tugging and pulling me to his body. My breath hitches as he tilts my head back to fully expose my neck. I can feel his nose and lips skim the surface of my skin. He learns me and the body he will soon possess. What causes me to pant? If he touches here or there will my skin decorate in the tiny goose bumps that fuel his desire?

He drinks in my scent. Brushing his cheek against my face and caressing my delicate features with his fingers. A thumb traces my lips. My tongue is too slow. I need to kiss him. To taste his honey laced mouth. Drink the elixir hidden beneath his tongue. His denial is torture, causing me to moan in displeasure.

His hands ghost across my skin, drifting lower. He cups my breasts and I'm surprised when they respond to his touch. It's a test. His lips taste me, starting with my eyes, then cheeks, and finally he captures my lips in a demure kiss. I'm infuriated until that same mouth finds my breasts. He alternates from left to right, granting equal attention by pausing to suckle each nipple and rolling them gently between his teeth. His tongue lingers as he licks, pulls, and teases until they stand at attention for him.

I can't speak. Words are held captive in my throat as I feel his fingers spread my delicate center. He strokes my clit and naturally I begin to move, creating more friction and loving how his touch feels. He takes one of my legs and wraps it around his waist. His fingers probe deeper – one, then another – we find a rhythm. My hands grip his shoulders before I stroke his ears and rub his head. He likes this. His head dips and finds my neck. His mouth is hot and wet against my skin. I want him to taste me there – lower – lower. And as if he reads my mind, he adjusts his body to kneel before me.

Desperately I wait, afraid to release the air I'm holding in my lungs, for fear of missing the first rush of pleasure generated by his tongue. I watch as my leg is moved to rest across one of his chiseled shoulders. One hand holds me steady for his mouth. He blows and I shudder. I feel his breath as he exhales and then his tongue connects with my clit. My knees buckle and he shifts, pressing me against the wall for support. One sweep of that wide tongue covers me from fold to fold. His lips hum and encase the nub of sensitive tissue. I'm crying. My mind cannot comprehend my body's reaction to him. No woman before him has ever created the need I have right now. I buck and ride his tongue. Enjoying his exploration of the pussy he's set on fire. I roll my hips, taking more of what he's offering. The incoherent murmurs from my lips intensify as he continues to fuck me with his mouth. I climax in awe, watching him savor every drop as if it's a rare offworld delicacy.

My body twitches with delightful aftershocks as he lightly kisses my still quivering core. He waits for my breaths to go from staggered to steady. His hands are steady as they lift my voluptuous body and deposit me on the array of pillows. I hungrily devour the kiss he grants. I'm aroused by the taste of my nectar on his lips. His tongue is skilled and it extracts his name from my mouth in that second of pleasure. I spread my legs compelling him to finish this twisted game he's begun. He laughs at the urgency on my face. The tip of his erection teases my opening. I wrap my legs around him, arching my back and propelling my hips higher in a plea for completion. He lowers his body and the head pushes past my walls.

He urges my legs higher until my knees are on either side of my head. I grunt out of anger and frustration as he withdraws. Then he fills me, completely. Burying his entire length in my warmth and I feel my body conform to fit him. I'm holding my knees as he plunges deeper. I want him everywhere. Without warning he flips my body over, driving into me from behind. Kissing the small of my back, grabbing my ass, and telling me how beautiful I look on all fours, waiting to be fucked. It's the final thread and my composure is gone. I fall back against his chest. My muscles tighten around his throbbing member. He's on the verge of an explosion. I meet each of his thrust with one of my own. He hisses. His pace quickens and his finger finds my clit forcing me to orgasm with him. We cry out before collapsing into a pile of sweaty limbs.

He changes the story every time he whispers it in my ear. Sometimes I beg and other versions find the night ends to the sound of my whimpered proclamations that he is a god of every sensual delight. It doesn't matter, as long as he repeats the performance time and time again.