It's not a long chapter, but it's a fairly intense chapter. (Insert disclaimer here. Still PG-13, honest!)
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Shooter pinned Nadine to the bed, exultant. Finally, he had her where he'd wanted her from the first time he'd set eyes on her, soft and naked beneath him. Her hair spilled across the pillows in a tumble of golden-brown curls and she looked up at him, grey eyes bright with anticipation. It touched him that she wasn't afraid of him, even though she knew he wasn't Rainey.
"Last chance, Missy," he told her. (Last chance to change your mind, and it's goin' fast. Speak now, or -- )
"Please, Shoot. I want this. I've been wanting this...wanting you."
With a triumphant smile, Shooter made his move. Nadine gave a little gasp as he claimed the prize for his patience. He waited, lodged deep, until she relaxed and her hips rocked against him. Then he began, slowly, cautiously, evoking response with controlled motions. (Do her right...do us both right....)
Nadine sighed with pleasure, following his lead, warm and willing. No shy young girl here, Shooter thought with relief. This dance was nothing new to her.
"Shoot...that's just wonderful," she purred. "Just like that...right there...." She was breathing heavily; there was a little notch of concentration between her brows as she yielded herself to his rhythm.
It was a fine, fine thing to hear her tiny moans, to know that he was pleasuring her. He held himself back, carefully orchestrating the tempo of their lovemaking, working to bring her to the heights of passion. Each throaty whimper guided Shooter, showing him the best ways to satisfy her, until Nadine was clinging to him with frantic desire. "Shoot -- ! Shoot -- oh God!"
"Miss Nadine...." he murmured as she regained her breath. "Don't you be fading out on me now. We're get getting started." She smiled blissfully and aimed a kiss that caught his chin.
Now he could be less controlled, and the bedsprings began to squeak in measured beats as Shooter let his body dictate the pace, moving comfortably. (Doing what comes natural. Nothing more natural than this...look at her, she's a wild woman once she gets going.) Excited by her whole-hearted surrender, Shooter rejoiced in her outcries as she first begged, then demanded, more.
The staccato twang of the mattress was a counterpoint to her moans; the springs squealed a high, rapid cadence, Nadine's response a breathy aria. As her voice soared into a crescendo of delight, there was the briefest lapse in synchopation, then it resumed full force. Shooter savored the sound of her name on his lips. It was music to his ears.
His control was fading. The urgency within him drove him on. The desire to pleasure her gave way to his need. Need rode him and he rode her, and the need was merciless, savage, a primitive urge untamed by the trappings of civilization. A gutteral roar rose from his throat as his climax overcame him, possessed him, drained him.
Shooter rolled onto his back, panting. He was exhausted, and the room was beginning to grey around the edges. (This is gonna complicate matters.) "Miss Nadine," he said painfully, "I don't think Mort would handle this too well...and I don't know how much longer I can hold him off."
Nadine gave him a fast kiss on the lips and scooted out of bed, dashing for the door.
Damn, it wasn't right, not being able to hold her for longer, to tell her...the greying shadows were blurring his vision, and Shooter felt himself returning to the twilight that was his other existance.
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Don't worry, Mort's gonna get equal time...eventually.
.
===============================
Shooter pinned Nadine to the bed, exultant. Finally, he had her where he'd wanted her from the first time he'd set eyes on her, soft and naked beneath him. Her hair spilled across the pillows in a tumble of golden-brown curls and she looked up at him, grey eyes bright with anticipation. It touched him that she wasn't afraid of him, even though she knew he wasn't Rainey.
"Last chance, Missy," he told her. (Last chance to change your mind, and it's goin' fast. Speak now, or -- )
"Please, Shoot. I want this. I've been wanting this...wanting you."
With a triumphant smile, Shooter made his move. Nadine gave a little gasp as he claimed the prize for his patience. He waited, lodged deep, until she relaxed and her hips rocked against him. Then he began, slowly, cautiously, evoking response with controlled motions. (Do her right...do us both right....)
Nadine sighed with pleasure, following his lead, warm and willing. No shy young girl here, Shooter thought with relief. This dance was nothing new to her.
"Shoot...that's just wonderful," she purred. "Just like that...right there...." She was breathing heavily; there was a little notch of concentration between her brows as she yielded herself to his rhythm.
It was a fine, fine thing to hear her tiny moans, to know that he was pleasuring her. He held himself back, carefully orchestrating the tempo of their lovemaking, working to bring her to the heights of passion. Each throaty whimper guided Shooter, showing him the best ways to satisfy her, until Nadine was clinging to him with frantic desire. "Shoot -- ! Shoot -- oh God!"
"Miss Nadine...." he murmured as she regained her breath. "Don't you be fading out on me now. We're get getting started." She smiled blissfully and aimed a kiss that caught his chin.
Now he could be less controlled, and the bedsprings began to squeak in measured beats as Shooter let his body dictate the pace, moving comfortably. (Doing what comes natural. Nothing more natural than this...look at her, she's a wild woman once she gets going.) Excited by her whole-hearted surrender, Shooter rejoiced in her outcries as she first begged, then demanded, more.
The staccato twang of the mattress was a counterpoint to her moans; the springs squealed a high, rapid cadence, Nadine's response a breathy aria. As her voice soared into a crescendo of delight, there was the briefest lapse in synchopation, then it resumed full force. Shooter savored the sound of her name on his lips. It was music to his ears.
His control was fading. The urgency within him drove him on. The desire to pleasure her gave way to his need. Need rode him and he rode her, and the need was merciless, savage, a primitive urge untamed by the trappings of civilization. A gutteral roar rose from his throat as his climax overcame him, possessed him, drained him.
Shooter rolled onto his back, panting. He was exhausted, and the room was beginning to grey around the edges. (This is gonna complicate matters.) "Miss Nadine," he said painfully, "I don't think Mort would handle this too well...and I don't know how much longer I can hold him off."
Nadine gave him a fast kiss on the lips and scooted out of bed, dashing for the door.
Damn, it wasn't right, not being able to hold her for longer, to tell her...the greying shadows were blurring his vision, and Shooter felt himself returning to the twilight that was his other existance.
==============================
Don't worry, Mort's gonna get equal time...eventually.
.