When she noticed him standing there, she wasn't startled. He wondered if she'd known he was there all the time.
"What are you doing out here?" she asked.
"Looking for someplace to smoke."
"You'd better not let my mother know you're indulging in that nasty habit on her porch."
"Okay, I won't let her know."
"But then, you always had some nasty habits." She caught him off guard until he realized she was teasing. She'd always been a tease. She went on, "but that's because you were always a nasty little boy."
She looked at him from the corner of her eyes and he thought, what fools men are for a beautiful woman. She turned, sauntering a few steps away. He followed as if he were chained to her.
"So what do you have to say for yourself?"
He cleared his throat. "About what?"
"Start with why you never answered my letters."
"Not true," he said.
"Post cards with a few hastily scrawled words don't count." She leaned backward against the wooden railing.
He was caught up in watching at her. It took a short time before he said, "Well, I guess..."
"Never mind. None of your corny excuses." She slapped at him then ran down the steps into the yard toward the back of the house.
It was the sort of kid-thing that he remembered from their childhood. But without another thought he took off after her. She disappeared around the side of the house. Once he’d turned where the streetlight couldn't be seen, he stopped, listening. It was inky-dark where he stood near a small storage cabin.
"Boo!" She jumped out at him.
He grabbed her, jerking her close. She tried to escape and he held tighter. He grew hard and knew she felt him.
"Let go, I didn't say you could touch me."
"You didn't say I couldn't either."
They struggled briefly before going down with her straddling him. It was obvious that she thought he could still play the role of her little brother. They could never go back to that. He rolled on top. That was a mistake for the whole thing left him powerfully aroused.
He kissed her--hard...At first she went soft, pliant. Her mouth opened and his heart turned over. They'd been close but this was a whole new ballgame. He felt as if he were at the gates of paradise. His hand inched up to her breast. She tried to push him away and sit up. He held her there but he moved his hand from her breasts.
She stopped struggling and lay perfectly still. With his face against her throat he could feel a pulse there. Neither of them stirred.
"Look up," she said, staring upwards over his shoulder. He was so happy at that moment that he didn't want to move. His heart pounded almost in tandem to hers. "No. Look up," she pushed against his shoulder.
He'd broken out in a sweat. It took all his strength to release her and roll away. As he did, she slipped away, rising to her feet and running from him.
He lay flat on his back, eyes closed, arms spread at his sides. He listened to her footfalls. How could she race so surefooted through the dark?
It was a few seconds before he opened his eyes and looked up. He never looked up any more. It exposed his throat to attack.
The sky was a dark velvet pit, liberally sprinkled with millions upon millions of tiny pinpoints of starlight. He felt as if she'd given him a gift.
Created by The Authors Guild
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