“What are you doing? You said you’d quit,” said Sharon as she pulled the cigarette right out of my mouth. The sun had set a few hours ago. But it was springtime and still warm. Sharon was fresh from a bath and I had just come back from my evening run.

“I did. I’ll quit again right after this,” I told her, reaching for the pack of cigarettes I’d left on the counter. She beat me to it. Damn she was fast. “Hand them over,” I said, trying to sound bored instead of desperate.

Copyright © Samantha Sommersby, 2007
All Rights Reserved, Samantha Sommersby.

“No.” She was holding them behind her back. “You’ve gone an entire month. Don’t blow it.”

I reached, wondering what on earth had possessed me to let a woman move into the extra bedroom. Sharon twisted her body, so her back was now solidly pressed against the kitchen counter. I attacked. I moved in swiftly, pinning her between my body and the countertop, placing one hand on either side of her.

“I want those cigarettes,” I whispered in her ear. “Hand them over.”

She looked up at me, her green eyes sparkling with mischief, “I thought big tough guys like you just took what they wanted.”

“We do.”

“So, what do you want?”

“I want,” I said my voice lowering a notch and my hands moving from the counter tops to her arms, “a cigarette.” I slid my hands up her arms until they rested on her shoulders. She leaned her head back slightly and smiled as she wet her lips.

It had been a full three months since the night that I’d inadvertently walked in on her as she was getting out of the bath. Four months since I’d been fantasizing about her non-stop.

“A cigarette,” she repeated, a bit breathlessly. Suddenly the word cigarette seemed like code for something else. Screw the cigarettes. I wanted her.

I traced her collarbone with my index finger. “Maybe you could distract me,” I suggested. “Make me forget about the cigarettes.” I watched the rise and fall of her chest. I began to imagine what it would be like to rip open her shirt and bury my face between her.

“We could watch a movie, or play cards. You could teach me how to cheat at poker,” she replied, seeming a little nervous.

“Strip poker?” I asked, encouraged, as I slid my hands up her neck weaving my fingers through her hair at the base of her skull.

She rolled her eyes and smiled. “In your dreams, buddy.”

“Oh, I’ll tell you all about my dreams. But, then you’ll have to share too,” I told her, looking deep into her eyes. “What is it you dream about?”

She blushed, prettily and averted her gaze. But she didn’t pull away. She closed her eyes as if remembering something. I felt a slight shudder pass through her body, “I don’t remember my dreams.”

“Liar,” I teased, smirking as I turned her head towards me, tilting it back slightly. “I bet I can get you to hand them over,” I told her arrogantly.

She lifted one eyebrow and grinned, “Oh, really? You sound pretty sure of yourself.”

I leaned down and pressed my lips to hers, softly at first. She didn’t flinch, not one bit. I dragged my tongue along her bottom lip, tracing its outline. She gasped, inadvertently opening her mouth and giving me full access. I wanted to savor the moment, so I captured her bottom lip between my teeth and tugged on it gently. Teasing. Coaxing. She released a moan, but not the damned cigarettes. Right, like this was still about the cigarettes? I slipped my tongue inside her mouth and immediately found hers. I stroked and caressed, taking my time, exploring, delighting in the taste of her.

I heard the pack of cigarettes fall to the floor and then I felt her arms wrap around me, her fingers starting to play with the hair at the base of my neck as she fervently returned the kiss. Had a simple kiss ever been so deliciously complicated and so totally arousing? Not for me. And I’d done my share of kissing. When we finally separated we were both breathless. Sharon self-consciously began to smooth her hair. She worried her bottom lip adorably as she looked practically anywhere in the small kitchen but at me. I slowly crouched down, retrieved the cigarettes from the floor, stood back up and handed them to her.

“I’m gonna go shower,” I told her. “I picked up a couple of the new releases earlier. You want to watch a movie with me after?”

“I’ll even make popcorn,” she said, smiling and nodding.

“I’ll be off then,” I replied as I started to walk out of the kitchen.

“Hey!” she called before I could cross the threshold.

“Yeah?” I turned around just in time to see the pack of cigarettes fly through the air.

“I have no right. It’s none of my business,” she said.

I caught the familiar red and white pack in my left hand.


She shrugged. “They’re bad for you. Plus, I don’t like the smell.or the taste.”

I walked over to the kitchen sink, opened the cupboard, and tossed the practically full pack into the trashcan. “I expect popcorn,” I told her as I closed the cupboard. “None of that diet stuff. I want real butter and a lot of it. You hear me?”

“Yes, master,” she replied as if in a hypnotic trance.

“Master!” I scoffed. “More like I’m the slave.Mistress Sharon.” I stepped back and looked at her, taking a moment to enjoy the visual that one produced. Latex boots and corset, bright red lipstick. Shit! Her lips were moving. She was saying something. “I’m sorry, what did you say?”

She smiled knowingly, “Dominatrix fantasy?”

I shook my finger at her and opened my mouth prepared to deny all, but I couldn’t bring myself to lie. I swear she has to be hiding kryptonite somewhere. It’s the only explanation.

“Yeah,” I admitted, sheepishly as I scratched the back of my head. “I know. I’m a pig.”

“But an adorable pig that, strangely enough, is growing on me. I’m probably going to require years of therapy living with you,” she sighed as she walked to the fridge, pulled out a bottle of wine and poured herself a glass.

“Who knows? Could be worth it,” I told her.

Sharon looked me right in the eye, then she raked her eyes over me appraisingly. I wondered, briefly, about X-ray vision. She took a sip of her wine, swallowed, and then left.

“Could be!” she called back to me as she walked down the hallway on her way back to her room.

I stayed there for a moment, rooted to the spot, smiling contentedly. Feeling.happy. I bent down and looked at my reflection in the stainless steel toaster. I didn’t look as if I were suffering from acute delirium. I stood back up then glanced down at the growing bulge in my running shorts.

“Now you behave yourself,” I muttered. “This one’s nice. We’re talking meet the family nice. We’re going to take things slow and you are going to-”

I felt the blood drain from my face.

“You’re standing right behind me, aren’t you?” I asked, knowing the answer.

“Uh-huh. The wine wasn’t cold enough. I came back for some ice.”

Ice in wine. So, she wasn’t perfect.

“Who were you talking to?”

Reflexively I looked down. She did too. That made the situation infinitely worse.

“Oh. Oh!” she gasped.

“Maybe I should just grab a long cold shower,” I suggested feeling suddenly embarrassed.

She flashed me a dazzling smile, then she raised her glass of wine and slowly poured it over my head. I stood there, stock still. I didn’t blink. I didn’t move a muscle as the wine coursed down my face, the length of my neck, and over my pecs. “Shame to let that good wine go to waste,” I murmured softly. And then she surprised me, stepping closer, sticking her tongue out, and lapping up the trail of wine that stretched across my nipple, into the hollow of my throat, over my Adam’s apple, and up behind my ear.

It had been five months since she’d moved in, five months of sharing a house and of thinking of her practically every second of every day.

I curled my right arm around her narrow waist, grabbed the back of her neck with my left hand, pulled her towards me, and crushed my lips to hers. Christ, she felt good! I moved quickly, walking her backwards until she was pressed firmly between my body and the front of the refrigerator. The impact startled her. She opened her mouth and I slipped my tongue inside with ease. I had taken her this way in a dream, the memory of which only further fueled my desire. Sharon moaned softly, as if on cue, and I slowed down so that I could take my time exploring her mouth.

The silk fabric of her robe felt soft and cool against my chest. I heard the wine glass slip from her fingers and shatter on the floor. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered. Nothing but her, the way she smelled and felt and tasted. I grabbed the sides of her waist and lifted her, sliding her up the length of the door. I could feel her hands as they grabbed onto my shoulders.

“Oh, God!” she moaned as I kissed her neck.

Her robe had opened and the left strap of her nightgown had slipped off of her shoulder. She wrapped her legs around my waist and arched back, rubbing herself against me and offering up one firm ripe breast. I latched onto her already erect nipple and took one long pull before laving it with my tongue.

“Tell me to stop,” I gasped as I released it. “If you don’t stop me now.”

Her lips were swollen from my kisses and her face and chest were flush with passion. Her golden hair was seductively tousled and it framed her face beautifully. I looked up into her deep green eyes and confessed for the first time, meaning every word, “I’m falling in love you. I’ve wanted you for months but this is more than that, I-”

The rest of my words were swallowed by her hungry kiss. She reached down, snaking her hand under the waistband of my shorts, her desperation exciting me all the more. Sharon broke off the kiss just as her hand took hold of my cock. The feel of it wrapped around me far surpassed my dreams. My eyes locked on hers as the head of my cock brushed up against her soft curls and she gasped. I tilted my hips forward, longing to get closer, to be in her, to feel her surround me. I slid between her lips, separating her folds, slipping past her swollen clit. I watched as her eyes closed and her head lolled back. “No, look at me,” I whispered. She did, and in that instant as I gazed into her eyes, she became my world. Utterly. Completely. Irrevocably. And, with one sure thrust, I claimed her as mine.