Red, White, and Blue
By: Songirl
All copyright and trademarked items mentioned herein belong to their respective owners. The remaining content is all the original author's. No copying or reproduction of this work is permitted without their express written authorization.
A/N: Happy Birthday Nina.
A hot tunnel of light squeezed his peripheral vision, making the strobing pain in Carlisle's head throb. He shifted and turned down the radio, running a tense hand through his dense brown hair and picking up the sweating cola that he had stashed in the cup holder when he tarried at the rest stop just long enough to make himself late. Correct that, he was too early to be late. But the distance between now and when he was expected was too soon to make even an optimist believe that anything but a jet would make it on time now.
Whatever the fuck.
It was worth it.
The monster in his lap roared to attention just as his brain became aware of his memory of the encounter. Snippets of sensation flooded his mind now, flashes of warm flesh, tender crevices, tan legs. Wet.
A tiny clench deep in his groin necessitated a shift in his seat and he strained against his trousers, damning the restraining belt that kept him pressed against his seat.
He swallowed and performed a shoulder check.
That made the saline sweetness on his tongue re-emerge, present despite the diet soda that was as impotent as water to oil in making it fade.
He would have to stop again if this kept up, just to stroke the raging urge that was threatening to turn into an ache.
If only he had done more than speak to her.
He shook off this thought, as the image of a woman flashed into his mind. Ample and strong.
A faint groan escaped him.
It was sweet justice when the rains started, falling in fat drops, imploding on the windshield. A warning shatter of thunder from the sky. The road slicked under his tires.
I didn't want to go anyway, he thought wryly.
More than once, he felt the car float, a fraction of an instant, threatening to hydroplane, and his long hands gripped the steering wheel into submission. Leaving a lump of stress in his throat. He was hyper alert, pupils at attention, watching the road and the rare car that overtook him, splashing a tsunami of blindness across the already blackened windscreen. He strained to see the dotted line and the rain doubled it's assault, too much for he highest setting of the wiper blades now.
He persisted a few more miles, thinking of her beautiful face and wishing he could dedicate the brain power to conjuring her image realistically enough to stroke her memory while he drove. It was just too dangerous. The primal male urge to preserve his jewels prevented him from unzipping and releasing his erection as long as he needed two hands to stay on this dangerous road.
Just saying "Good evening." was all he had managed when he came out of the men's room and she caught his eye giving him an open smile, blue eyes and gold hair, a halo in the harsh light of the truck stops' glare.
She was stunning.
Athletic legs tanned in a way that told him she didn't do her jogging any where close to here, the Pacific Peninsula's grey fog blocking all hope of sun damage. He openly stared at her form, high breasts and rounded ass made him want to bite it and wear those shapely ankles as earrings. She had given him a confident appraisal before turning to give the attendant her order and a breezy wave of her hand when she left, brushing so lightly against his hard length, so surreptitiously, when she turned, he may have almost believed it was an accident. He assaulted her departing ass with his eyes and noted her meaningful look when she started her Jaguar ...and left.
Fuck.
He truly didn't have time for this.
Carlisle tried to navigate the wretched road another hour before finally accepting his fate. He was doomed to disappoint the blushing bride and at this point he hardly cared. His body was tense from the frustration of the condition of the road and the condition in his pants. He pulled off of the flooding road to find a cheap motel. The parking lot was pock-marked with sink holes and mud, a discovery he made once his shoe was wet and full.
Slogging into the mid century modern reception foyer, he noted the jaundiced countenance of the nocturnal man behind the desk. He had already decided he was ready to begin to drinking heavily when then man told him all that was left was an overpriced king and asked how long he required the room.
Required? Aren't we genteel for $39. 99?
Carlisle thought sarcastically, feeling the observation casting an unwelcome spotlight on his clearly double-twin state. The tinny bell rang thinly as another patron entered and he scooped up his key, pillow, and towels, contemplating how wet they would be by the time he got them into his room, shaking his head about why they weren't already there, and came face to face with her.
He was so glad he could have cried. And in that instant, a million little things went through his over soda-caffeinated brain. Of course she would be here when I look like shit, was exhausted and had given up. He nodded his head, and carried on, in time to hear the man say "Sorry. All Full".
What an interesting dilemma.
He hadn't dared to hope when he did twist his ear just a little to hear just how disappointed she would be. Turns out this beauty had a double tragedy of falling victim to a sink hole too, and had parked her vintage car up to it's curvaceous fender. She wasn't going anywhere tonight. Chivalry straightened Carlisle's spine as he turned to look at her generous backside. Appreciatively, he took a nice long glance before clearing his throat and offering to share.
She regarded him coolly for a moment before requesting another pillow.
She followed him silently, the rain washing the air between them. And Carlisle wondered what colour her nipples were under their announcing peaks on her shirt.
He found to the correct room under the canopy of the outdoor walkway as it was percussed with the driving rain. Carlisle smirked to her and balanced his fluffy load while fitting the key to it's dark slit and had to remember to close his mouth. It was odd that it didn't feel so, as he opened the door and turned to the side valiantly let her go ahead. Her breasts brushed slowly against his his chest this time and he had the self preservation to look at her face. A welcome glint was present along with the way that the ribbon of her plum pout curled at the edges. They paused like that for a second, when she revealed a tall row of gleaming white to further distract him.
It occurred to him that she had a name.
"What is it?" He asked, and she continued to stare before saying, "What the fuck are you talking about?"
He jolted at her verbalization of the very word he had been hoping for, and felt the joy of a kid being dared to stick their toes in the cold pool first.
"You name, Gorgeous". He pressed.
She thought for a second and told him that would suffice. She didn't ask his and he was almost offended.
But not quite.
He raised an eyebrow, now not so nearly tired and thought to himself.
So this is how it will be.
It suited him fine. Chat was overrated and so many women required him to be so...nice. Not that he wasn't verbal, but he preferred to save his commentary for more sincere pursuits. Performing sonnets to her sex.
As a med school student, he had annals of information about all her parts that he would like to introduce himself to, one long limb at a time.
Carlisle motioned to the plastic ice bucket and declared that he had seen an ice machine outside. She nodded her amused acquiescence and he took a left towards the office, appealing to the proprietor's half dead soul for alcohol of any kind with which to ply their intercourse. Apparently this establishment was not a stranger to Carlisle's predicament and the man explained a complicated addition to his room's bill in exchange for liquid libation that would be delivered by someone unknown, once his door was closed. This Carlisle interpreted to mean that there was no liquor license in this fine lodging and returned in suspense to find out what kind of date he would be. Wine was be cliche and unlikely to be good, a box would be awkward. In the end, it was cold beer that stood out side the room. The best kind of ding-dong-ditch he had ever beheld.
He was almost surprised she was still there when she emerged from the bathroom, steam rising from her apparition, blond hair darkened with wet.
"I hope you don't mind", she offered. "I wanted to freshen up."
He quirked an appraising eyebrow at her towel wrapped form, and thanked his lucky stars that he was going to be so late. He offered her some beer which she accepted with grace and he marvelled at her ability to affect a lady like persona, while almost naked on the opposite bed. Her legs crossed temptingly as she modestly hoisted her towel and Carlisle felt his semi flare to erect.
"Salut!" he offered in a toast, and she countered with "Santé!".
How apropos. Dr Carlisle thought to himself, as they their crossed long brown necks.
He put down his beer, he loosened his tie, watching her chest expand and contract. It occurred to him odd that she did not question him at all or even ask for his name, and made a note to lecture her at some future date about stranger danger. That made him pause and he wondered to himself what made him think he would ever see her lusciousness again.
He excused himself, and rinsed his slacks in the sink, his rolled cuff caked to the brim with mud and stripped to enjoy the one natural resource of every hotel, the endless supply of hot water.
Emerging naked except for the pitiful towel, Carlisle was well aware of her appraisal of his obvious gifts, five miles a day and extremely good genes. The unseen rest involved the birthright of a trust fund and a med school legacy. The studious application of his brain was the extent of his maintenance of that. Nevertheless, under normal circumstances it may seem forward to strip down in front of a complete stranger but his instincts told him to forgo anything he thought he knew before this. The lighting had softened, from the benefit of her pink shirt was drying over top of a lamp.
He resumed the sipping of his beer and noted her change of position. She had turned on the idiot box and was flicking their channels with an antique channel changer attached by a wire, three second delay for each button that was pushed. She seemed to find this amusing and smiled at each fuzzy channel that crept it's slow motion show across the concave glass face. He watched in amusement realizing now that this technology was now extinct and this particular equipment would never receive any signal except from space. She lay on her stomach and her towel had crept, it's threadbare coverage no more than a face cloth's.
Leaning against the head board of what was apparently his bed, Carlisle was treated to all her secrets. A thorough examination would not be required to tell him that Gorgeous preferred hardwood. His mind wandered a minute to the expensive finishes she would inevitably choose for some future mortgage he would gladly pay at the hospital, just to come home to this magnificent folly. In no hurry, he opened another beer before leaning back at the head of her bed.
Enjoying the view he nursed his beverage before placing the bottle between her legs. She didn't bother to look but he heard her breath catch before grinding her hips into the bed. He gingerly rolled the glass surface along the smooth surface of her inner thigh, all the way up and almost center, without touching, before moving down the other side. He watched with fascination, the wave of goose flesh raising on her skin. Her knees spread infinitesimally wider with every patient pass. Feeling free, he took another small sip before pushing the towel higher over her ass and pouring the cold amber liquid into the small valley between the dimples on her lower back. She hissed and swivelled her hips minutely, at the coldness of the beer and he lowered his mouth over her ass. He lapped at the beer, enjoying it's tangy flavor wondering if it would compliment the main course and allowed himself a small gentle bite.
She contracted, then relaxed, and lay her head down, leaving the channel on static and the white noise seemed fitting to the silent hum of the economy lamps and the talking detente. Following his instinct, Carlisle added his hands and placed them smoothly on her cheeks. He kissed her dimples with an open mouth and then laved his tongue between them. Ever lower, he made his way over her smooth white skin. Her sun kissed legs made her glutes glow in contrast, and he felt like an astronaut leaving the first footprints on the moon. In the back of his head a voice said this was unlikely, but the romantic in him continued, enjoying the contrasting textures and tastes in the inches between front and back. She pushed towards him when he kissed his way low and arched her back downward.
Her lovely bottom was now off the bed giving him access as well as a view. One long languid lick began his descent and her writhing continued in earnest. By the time he had added a finger doing figure eight loops, her sounds were of total surrender. Her obvious wetness was calling his name and he finally allowed his own pleasure. He circled her clitoris before pressing his tongue and was rewarded with a higher note of her approval. Gently he entered her, longest finger first and established she needed another. He did this forthwith, swirling intently. He applied himself well, before curling them downward to find her new octave.
Ah there it is.
He thought, as he pressed that textured patch. The Huston of her unhinging. And Carlisle observed that she was obviously a soprano as her throaty performance continued. He closed his eyes at the erotic sound and imagined turning her over. He was a pleasure delayer you see and he tortured himself with the patience of a saint, even though he felt thoroughly a sinner. Carlisle's patient erection had had quite enough and his aching begged him to listen. He raised himself up and announced his bold state in the same manner he had begun the encounter. Rubbing her shamelessly with his long heat in cold's stead, made her moan in a low kind of whisper. He kissed his way upwards this time, with his mouth, wanting mostly to watch her lips quiver. He arrived at her neck and nibbled a path to her ear before murmuring his praise of her sweet pussy and told her to "Turn" so he could see her face when he made her climax reach into the ether.
She was flushed. Blue eyes, over red mouth, over white teeth, and he suddenly felt patriotic. Holding himself above her with his rippled strong arms, he asked her politely if he could Please see her breasts and she removed her towel gracefully, never breaking his gaze. He won a bet with himself when the shade at the peak of her breasts matched the pink that he had been licking. He added them to his buffet of delights, making patient circles around her tight, puckered skin before sucking them gently, molding their fullness with his fingers enjoying their nerve's connection to her center. Carlisle enjoyed the way her hands returned his attentions, moving slowly over his body, towards his straining excitement. He bent to kiss her lips just as she reached to encircle his girth and moaned into her mouth his appreciation. He had begun to imagine her talented tongue on his hardness when she reached down and externally stimulated his prostate. His mouth opened in pleasure and surprise and she sucked at his tongue and he suddenly felt almost there.
He gently removed his tongue from her mouth, bringing his hand to her cheek and helpfully informed her he had a condom if she'd like to continue. She nodded her eyes, pupils wide with her pleasure, the flushed cheeks and damp hair made her a vision. He stepped briefly away to retrieve the package from his wallet and within seconds was wearing the sheathe. She rose up on her knees in all her Amazonian glory and guided him to sit back against the head of the bed before impaling herself on his pleasure. He received her with a grunt and held on to her breasts, suddenly needing their sweet essence in his mouth. He muttered her glories straight into her skin as she rode cowgirl over his appreciative cock. His stamina was impressive and he wondered if her thighs would start to burn, but she was awesome in her advancement. She squeezed him internally each time she rose and Carlisle was compressed by the potency of her presence. Watching Gorgeous ride him was eventually too much to bear and her noise was beyond his fantasies. He came with a force he thought sure would blow her back and she held on, as if she had heard him, crying
"Fuck you are a Hot Bitch!"
He dispensed with the formality in a can by the bed and he wrapped himself and the sheet around her. He promised himself when the morning came he would make certain he could ensure an endless supply of encores from this singing, patriotic beauty and she surprised him when she used her speaking voice.
"Rose. My name is Rose."
"I'm Carlisle. Nice to meet you...Say, I don't know if you have plans, but I am on my way to the wedding of my niece Alice. My sister Esme was giving the rehearsal dinner tonight, and she will be upset with me that I missed it. Bringing a guest to the wedding will create enough distraction that she might be inclined to forgive me. Maybe afterwards we can discuss forever..."