..She wasn't very tall he thought (she barely grazed his chin with herhair), but she had the most beautiful light skin, dark hair and eyeshe could sta...e at for hours... )...Oh and her body... She looked like a paler kind of Catherine zeta-jones, her small yet perky breasts slightly peering through theevening gown she was wearing, and he thought he could just make outthe trace of her nipples through the fabric, he felt himself start tostiffen so he turned to grab another drink while calming. She could take, and she could give. I liked that, too. Most women can only take or give, rarely both in equal amounts."So good," she breathed. "That was so good." She turned to me, rolled her torso onto my chest and kissed me, a soft kiss, devoid of passion, but nonetheless very much appreciated.My hands roamed over her damp, heated flesh, rubbed her down like I would for a horse I'd ridden hard. I stifled a chuckle. She'd been ridden hard. I couldn't in good conscious put her away wet.She. Jean couldn't limp her eyes from trailing downward to her flat belly and the narrow slenderness of her waist and further to the enticing flare of her hips. Her long, shapely legs rested one over the other at the ankles, her rounded, full white thighs erotically enhanced by the soft black curls of pubic hair enshadowing their juncture. Nervously, Jean fidgeted with her hands, the unexpected exhibitionism taking her off-guard and momentarily, as it had before in the woman's bedroom, briefly. Their relationship had progressed to the point where one could almost sense one beating heart, rather than three.Brenda answered the knock at the door. Hawk and Maria stood at her side; it was her Aunt, after all. The first to enter were the hotel staff, pushing several carts of food and beverages. Following them were Beth and Zed Andrews, Deke Templeton, and Elizabeth Johnson. This was the group that had listened to Brenda’s story about the hostage situation and had been the first to.
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