Copyright © 2007 J. Emberglass
All rights reserved, Freya's Bower.
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"Looking for something?"
"Argh!" Dean dropped the bed ruffle and fell backward on his ass. "Don't scare me like that!"
Sapphira's gentle laughter prompted heat to flare in his cheeks. "You're the one poking about under my bed."
"I was looking for the cat."
"Oh, I see." Still naked, Sapphira padded across the room and sat down at a vanity table. "The kitty wanted to go out of the kitchen window, so I opened it."
He struggled to his feet and stared at her, unsure whether to be glad that he'd imagined the cat, or if he should worry that his brain had peeled out and left only smoke behind.
"How...how did you get past me?"
"When?" Pale blue eyes regarded him in the mirror. Sapphira unwrapped the towel from her head. A jumble of damp blonde hair fell down her back.
"I was in the kitchen," said Dean, "then in the bathroom, and finally went into my room to change." Something wasn't right about this entire situation, but something was off about the entire evening too. "I stopped here to ask you a question and found the cat on your bed, but I didn't pass you in the hall."
She picked up a big-toothed comb and began tugging the snarls from her hair. "Dean, I got up from a short nap and went into the kitchen for a few more grapes. I let the cat out, walked back to my room, found you peering under my bed, and now, you're talking nonsense."
"N-never mind." He sighed, fiery heat raging in his cheeks. She was right. Here he stood with a naked, beautiful woman in front of him and he was babbling to her like the village idiot. "Look, do you have any plans for tonight? I'm supposed to go to a supper and would like someone to accompany me."
The loveliest smile lit up Sapphira's face. She set the comb down, turned, and locked gazes with Dean. He tried to keep his attention off her tits and on her beautiful face, he really did, but her round, pert breasts just begged to be touched, suckled, licked...
She stood and sashayed across the carpet towards him, her hips and breasts swaying, a deliciously erotic smile teasing her mouth--and his libido. Sapphira stopped within a few inches of him. The scent of the shampoo she'd washed her hair in teased his nostrils, and the aroma of perfume reached him. She smelled like...cinnamon? Cloves? Dean thought of freshly baked pumpkin and apple pies. Good enough to eat, he mused.
"Do you want to eat me, Dean?" she asked. Sapphira gazed up into his eyes. He noticed how elongated they appeared, perfectly almond-shaped, and he wondered if she might possibly have distant Asian origins in her family tree. Her tongue flicked out to wet her lower lip; the moisture there caught the light and glimmered. He thought about that word--glimmered--thought about how the last three letters were red.
Lips as red as the sweetest wine...rose red, the red of a bleeding heart, red as a cherry...