Dec 17 2013

Second Chance Layover — Part 13 (FREE Holiday Blog Serial)

Sandra Bunino and I have collaborated to bring you a FREE holiday blog serial that runs in 18 parts of usually less than 1000 words for each post—easy reading on your lunch break.

Prefer to read on a Kindle or Nook? No problem, just head over to Smashwords every Wednesday to download last week’s (parts 1 – 4) and this week’s (parts 5 – 9) volumes, FREE! I also post the volumes on ARe on Thursdays. Really, there’s no excuse not to read this serial!

Of course, you can catch up here: Parts 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12

And now, PART 13 of Second Chance Layover (Click title to read a quick summary of the story.)

Cover13Cal ~

Duncan was going to kill me, but I didn’t care. I’d take any punch or blow and beg for more to keep Charli.

I gazed at the slumbering form next to me, a hot mess of tangled hair scattered over her pillow, lips full and pale, slightly parted. A warmth grew in my chest and expanded outward. She wasn’t just his sister, not any more. Oh sure, they had the same parents, but the woman beside me was no longer Duncan’s responsibility. Though logic told me Charli needed no one to babysit her, I couldn’t help the swell of protectiveness. Was lust or affection the source of the warmth?

The sheets had slipped below her breasts now presented in an appealing manner by an arm crooked beneath them. Those delectable curves roused me. I fought the urge to lean over and take a rosy nipple into my mouth, to drag her body against mine and press flesh against flesh. She seemed so small and vulnerable.

I didn’t want to wake her, but nature called.

I extricated myself from the bed sheets and slithered out of the bed. If Charli woke, she’d no doubt laugh at my maneuvers. Fortunately, she didn’t.

Tiptoeing into the bathroom was the easy part. Dodging the discarded clothing that might have rustled or tripped me was far tougher. On my way back, I picked up one of my socks and Charli’s thong that had landed in a cozy tangle like their owners. Call me a perv, but I couldn’t resist the compulsion to inhale Charli’s lingering scent—all woman.

Next came my button down shirt I folded up semi-neatly and lay on a nearby side chair. I didn’t dare risk fumbling around for a hanger. Besides, I’d be putting it back on soon.

One of my shoes lay upside-down near the door. No idea where its mate had ended up. Charli’s boots lay side by side at the foot of the bed.bigstock-High-heels-and-underwear-20110100

I glanced around for my pants. They lay in a collapsed figure-eight shaped accordion with my boxers spilling out over the waistband. Yeah, I’d been in a hurry. Charli’s jeans lay next to where I stood. I picked them up and began to fold them. A card fell from the pocket, a business card I discovered when I turned it over and read:

Charlotte Tierney, Associate Editor and Writer, Culture Spy Magazine.

The cold fingers of malaise danced along the back of my neck triggering a shudder. It couldn’t be true, had to be some sort of cosmic joke. Every word, every cold unfeeling sentence of the story of my sister’s descent from a failed starlet wannabe to a worn-out, over-exposed and drug-addled porn actress came rushing back. The article hadn’t been a long one, less than a page with side-by-side pictures from her acting portfolio to a still from one of her last adult flicks. The column’s author, Tiffany Greeley, a name I’d never forget nor its owner would I ever forgive, had implied Hollywood wasn’t for the weak of heart; it chewed up and spat out weak ingénues like a Darwinian predator.

And my beautiful, lovely Charli worked for this rag? What was she thinking? Renata was still alive when the “What Happened to Her” story ran. She’d seen it, had a copy of the loathsome rag lying on the floor next to her bed when I’d found her comatose and dying from the drug overdose. I would have sued Culture Spy’s asses except I knew I’d never win. A lawsuit would only drag Renata’s name through the mud. Again. All those cowardly yellow journalists—they were just as responsible for driving me out of Hollywood as the leeches that killed my sister.

Charli stirred and shifted. She sighed, but didn’t waken.

Her cell phone chimed, either an alarm or a call, I couldn’t tell.

Her eyes fluttered open and scanned the room. The corners of her mouth turned up when our gazes met. “Good morning. It’s time for us to get back to our terminal, isn’t it?” Charli, awake but groggy, sat up and rubbed her eyes. She reached for her cell phone on the nightstand, tapped and swiped the screen. “Henry’s texting me.”

“Who’s Henry?”

“He’s my boss. Probably wants to know how my assignment is going, even though he said he wouldn’t call me until after New Year’s.” She rolled her eyes.

I had to ask. “What’s your assignment?”

She winked and said, “Just a fluff piece. He wanted me to try out this online line matchmaking service for lonely airport layovers called Meet-And-Go dot com. Heard of it?” She chuckled. “Looks like I have a really juicy story.”

My hands clenched into fists. What a waste of all Charli’s brains and abilities. “Why do you work at a place like Culture Spy? You could do so much better.”

She snapped her phone shut, slipped out of the bed, naked, and walked toward me. I stepped back, and she stopped advancing. The stupid parts of me pleaded I was about to make a colossal mistake.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, hands on her hips, completely unself-conscious.

“I don’t like rags like the Culture Spy,” was all I could force out.

“Clearly. What’s all the hating about though?” She tugged the decorative coverlet off the foot of the bed to drape around her body like a towel.

A leak broke through. “Magazines like that don’t care who they hurt in the interest of getting a story. They employ aggressive paparazzi to hunt down and chase my clients.” My jaw ached from gritting my teeth so hard.

Charli cocked her head to the side. “I’m not paparazzo. We don’t employ those types of photographers and don’t buy photos from them.”bigstock-a-young-couple-in-bed-has-prob-45882310

Was she serious? I rolled my eyes. “Come on, Charli. I lived for years in Hollywood. That’s exactly what magazines like yours do. That’s exactly how they get their pictures.”

She crossed her arms at her chest. The muscles of her face tightened and her lips flattened. “We aren’t a Hollywood-centric magazine. We cover human interest stories, and yes, pop culture, but not just about movie and television stars. We don’t compete for those types of silly exposes.”

I crossed my arms too. We were at an impasse.

***

Please be sure to come back tomorrow for Part 14!

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Dec 16 2013

Second Chance Layover — Part 12 (FREE Holiday Blog Serial)

Sandra Bunino and I have collaborated to bring you a FREE holiday blog serial that runs in 18 parts of usually less than 1000 words for each post—easy reading on your lunch break.

Prefer to read on a Kindle or Nook? No problem, just head over to Smashwords every Wednesday to download last week’s (parts 1 – 4) and this week’s (parts 5 – 9) volumes, FREE! I also post the volumes on ARe on Thursdays. Really, there’s no excuse not to read this serial!

Of course, you can catch up here: Parts 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11

And now, PART 12 of Second Chance Layover (Click title to read a quick summary of the story.)

ADULTS ONLY: Read the rest of this entry »

Dec 13 2013

Second Chance Layover — Part 11 (FREE Holiday Blog Serial)

Sandra Bunino and I have collaborated to bring you a FREE holiday blog serial that runs in 18 parts of usually less than 1000 words for each post—easy reading on your lunch break.

Prefer to read on a Kindle or Nook? No problem, just head over to Smashwords every Wednesday to download last week’s (parts 1 – 4) and this week’s (parts 5 – 9) volumes, FREE! I also post the volumes on ARe on Thursdays. Really, there’s no excuse not to read this serial!

Of course, you can catch up here: Parts 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10

And now, PART 11 of Second Chance Layover (Click title to read a quick summary of the story.):

Cover11Cal ~

I shoved my room card into my pocket and headed to the elevator, the first step to making my way to the third floor, to room 312, to Charli’s room. I slapped my palm against the elevator button. What was taking the stupid thing so long?

What would she be wearing when she opened her door? Would she invite me in or would I have to finesse my way inside? Would she want to talk first, to get in the mood and shed any nerves, or would she expect me to pounce? A man could hope…. God did I hope.

An image of Charli stretched out naked on the crisp white sheets curled sensuously through my thoughts before slithering down my spine to tease my more primitive brain. The image expanded and took on the scent of coffee and lust. My mouth watered at the taste of her skin, her lips, her nipples, pink and taut with her arousal, her pussy wet and ready for me. Echoes of ecstasy joined the daydream.

I slammed the elevator button three more times. “Come on, come on.”

Maybe she’d have a sheet pulled up over her breasts. Maybe she’d lie on her bed, every inch of her delectable body exposed, and crook her finger at me. I’d take my time walking to her, fucking her with my eyes and fighting every instinct to leap on her and pound her into the mattress. Anticipation fizzed through my veins. Was the same hurricane of want overwhelming her?

The elevator dinged and the doors opened. Only a single occupant stood in the car, a lock of hair twirling between her fingers the only hint of nerves that couldn’t possibly be as jangled as mine.

Charli opened her mouth to speak. No words came out.bigstock-Couple-Has-Fun-Love-Eroticis-8963197

I charged into the elevator. I didn’t think. I didn’t weigh risk and reward or ponder consequences. I didn’t ask. I didn’t hesitate. I took.

I didn’t offer her the possibility of protesting, of saying “no”. She was in my arms before my brain even registered that I’d slammed her against the back wall of the elevator and was kissing the living daylights out of her.

And when the first coherent thoughts clawed their way through the red haze of lust and desire, I realized she held me as tightly as I held her. Her fingers gripped my hair and held my mouth against hers. She hitched a leg up around my hip. My hands cupped her luscious ass and lifted her up. Both legs wrapped around my waist. Adrenalin flooded my system and powered my muscles because she felt no heavier than a cat, a lithe languorous cat purring in my arms.

I plundered her mouth with my lips and tongue. God, she took everything I gave and returned it in multiples.

Between kisses, she squeezed out, “I didn’t—”

“I want you,” I said, my voice hoarse with need.

“Oh, thank God,” she said smiling. With both of her palms pressed against my cheeks, her forehead against mine, tiny puffs of air from her laughter caressed my mouth.

I kissed her again, taking my time, savoring her mouth, her scent, the smooth delicacy of her skin. All the tools in my seduction arsenal I wielded with deliberate intent. She molded her warm body to mine and moaned. More! my body urged in response. “I’m hungry for you,” I said half growling. I spun her around and out of the elevator.

English: Hotel key card holder. The holder con...

(Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Thankfully my room wasn’t far because I had a hot, snickering woman in my arms and a cock so fucking hard I wouldn’t even need my room key. I could smash down the door with the damned thing. It was practically clawing its way out of my pants to get at the feminine heat a few thin layers of clothing away. I was hornier than a sixteen year old with a stack of porn magazines, and if I didn’t get myself under control, she’d know it too.

Where was the blasted key to my room? Oh yeah, my pants pocket. I shifted and held her with one arm, just like fucking Superman, as I fished out the card and gave it a swipe. The door handle didn’t budge. Another swipe, another rejected entry attempt.

“Goddammit!” I swiped it again. Somebody hated me.

“Give it to me,” Charli said taking the card from my hand. One swipe with her magical touch, and the lock surrendered. She’d unlocked my Pandora’s box unleashing all that was wild and unholy.

***

Oh, that ended too quickly and too soon, didn’t it? And now we have to wait until Monday? Curses! Who planned the serial this way?? **snicker, snicker** Trust me, it’ll be worth the wait.

Please be sure to come back Monday for Part 12!  ;)

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Dec 12 2013

Second Chance Layover — Part 10 (FREE Holiday Blog Serial)

Sandra Bunino and I have collaborated to bring you a FREE holiday blog serial that runs in 18 parts of usually less than 1000 words for each post—easy reading on your lunch break.

Prefer to read on a Kindle or Nook? No problem, just head over to Smashwords every Wednesday to download last week’s (parts 1 – 4) and this week’s (parts 5 – 9) volumes, FREE! I also post the volumes on ARe on Thursdays. Really, there’s no excuse not to read this serial!

Of course, you can catch up here: Parts 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9

And now, PART 10 of Second Chance Layover (Click title to read a quick summary of the story.):

Cover10Charli ~

Cal’s firm must have clout because we used the priority check in and whizzed right past the line of tired travelers. I peeked over at Cal as I checked in, admiring not only how deliciously he filled out his jeans, but also how sweet he was with the older woman behind the counter as he checked in. Our eyes met and he winked at me. I waited until he finished, and we walked to the elevator together.

“All set?” he asked.

“Yup. I’m in 312.” The elevator doors opened and we stepped in.

“I’m in 535. How about we get settled into our rooms and meet back down here in fifteen minutes for dinner. Are you hungry?” He gave me a look that made me think of anything but food. I stared back at him. The door opened and a couple with a crying baby walked in between us.

I stepped out of the elevator and mumbled something about meeting him downstairs in a few. Walking to my room, I glanced back to the sinful look in his eyes. I didn’t have too much experience in the ‘I want to rip your clothes off’ stare, at least directed at me. But I’d have bet a million he had just sent one in my direction. The butterflies doing flips in my stomach urged me to let him and do the same to him. I dragged my carryon through the door, turned on the light and sat on the bed.

No, I couldn’t do that. I laughed and headed to the bathroom with the toothbrush and paste the front desk gave me. The thought that entered my head was something Tiffany would do, not boring, predictable Charli. I turned on the water and unwrapped the bar of facial soap. Lathering the soap in my hands I thought of how my fingers would feel as they raked through his hair and ran down his back to his delectable ass. I washed and rinsed my face and stared at myself in the mirror. “What the hell,” I said to the reflection as I finished patting my face dry with a hand towel. I gave my teeth a quick brush and added an extra dab of toothpaste to the back of my tongue before finding my phone.

Texting Emoji

Texting Emoji (Photo credit: IntelFreePress)

Booty calls. I’d never made one. I turned on my phone and decided a booty text was much safer. I selected his number and after much thought, tapped out:

I’m not hungry for food.

I groaned after I hit send. What if I’d read his signals all wrong? What if I had just made a world-class fool of myself? The good news was I could slip out of the hotel undetected tomorrow morning and hide out in the terminal until my flight. I wouldn’t have to see him again, even if we lived in the same city. New York City’s hugeness almost guaranteed it.

***

Cal ~

Stupid key card took five swipes before the gremlin-infested contraption finally conceded defeat. Whatever happened to good old-fashioned skeleton keys? Electronic hotel keys and I had always had a love-hate relationship. Good thing the room justified the hassle.

I hoped Charli liked hers. If I’d had bigger balls, I’d have only mentioned a single room. Charli was nobody’s kid sister anymore. She had grown up independent and beautiful, and so sexy and desirable I ached thinking about her.

Back in the terminal, I had wanted to kiss her so badly, but what did she want? She took the offer of the second room without a second’s hesitation. Had I only imagined what I wanted to see in her eyes?

My phone chimed with an incoming text, probably the airline with an update for tomorrow’s departure. I pulled my phone out of my pocket, read the message and frowned.

Charlie had texted me, but what the hell did her message mean? She was standing me up for dinner? Did she get a better offer? From who? Shit!

I read her message again.

Wait a second. There was a Grand Canyon-sized difference between “I’m not hungry” and “I’m not hungry for food” depending on a man’s perspective. Those last two words offered much more room for interpretation.

Close up of woman biting her lip“Oh Charli, baby… do you mean what I think you mean?”

My dick piped up and assured me she did.

“Down boy!” I muttered. Only one way to find out. My fingers flew across the keys typing, “Lots of different kinds of hunger.”

No. That sounded like I wanted to debate. I clicked and held down the erase key until all the letters so artlessly splattered on my screen disappeared into cyber-nothingness.

“How about a drink then?” I typed. We had agreed to meet in fifteen minutes. If she wasn’t hungry, maybe she simply meant she wanted a drink. I could test the waters, make sure we were on the same page without seeming like a complete jerk if we weren’t.

My dick twitched with irritation. If the dumb beast could talk it would have whined at my chicken shit obtuseness.

I erased the text, smiled and typed, “I think we should explore this hunger of yours,” and hit send.

***

Want more? Of course you do! We’re getting to the spicy bits now. Admit it, that’s what you’ve been waiting for.

Be sure to come back tomorrow for Part 11!

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Dec 11 2013

Second Chance Layover — Part 9 (FREE Holiday Blog Serial)

Sandra Bunino and I have collaborated to bring you a FREE holiday blog serial that runs in 18 parts of usually less than 1000 words for each post—easy reading on your lunch break.

Prefer to read on a Kindle or Nook? No problem, just head over to Smashwords every Wednesday to download last week’s (parts 1 – 4) and this week’s (parts 5 – 9) volumes, FREE! I also post the volumes on ARe on Thursdays. Really, there’s no excuse not to read this serial!

Of course, you can catch up here: Parts 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8

And now, PART 9 of Second Chance Layover (Click title to read a quick summary of the story.):

Cover9Charli ~

“That’s my flight,” I whispered.

Cal’s touch left my face, and he took a step back. His Adam’s Apple bobbed as he swallowed hard. Had he been about to kiss me? “Good to see you, Charli.” He leaned over and pulled me into a one-armed hug, and kissed the top of my head. Like he would do to a little sister. “I’ll give you a call after the holidays.”

I hesitated. I wanted to link my hands around his neck and give him a kiss he’d never forget, like one of those dramatic breathless kisses the leading lady gave her hero in the movies. I certainly wasn’t looking leading ladylike standing awkwardly staring up at him with nothing to do but nod in acknowledgement. He winked and left me to board my flight. A shiver zipped up my spine as I watched him walk away.

The chatter of the people standing too close jarred me back to reality. My few hours in Cal’s and my private world had come to an end. Time to grudgingly shuffle onto an overcrowded airplane to spend the holidays in overcrowded condo with my family. I walked to the cattle line waiting to board.

***

Cal ~

A collective groan sounded throughout the terminal nearly drowning out the rest of the announcement. No flights would be taking off that night. The runways had been closed due to a losing battle with snow and ice accumulation.

Great.

I sprinted to the nearest ticket agent, and after a solid fifteen minute wait, got my tickets for a flight out the next day.

My mind shifted to the lone bright spot: Charli Tierney. I pulled out my phone and dialed her number. The call went directly to voice mail. I smiled at her goofy message and wondered if our game had used up the battery life of her phone. Worried that she’d be left stranded without her phone, I quickly scanned the gates as I dodged frustrated travelers.

Aspen. Bingo!

I craned my neck over the crowd of people hoping I hadn’t missed her. I smiled when I spotted a familiar blonde dragging an obnoxious pink carry-on and moving away from an agent’s counter. She stared at her phone, oblivious to my approach.

“Hey, that thing works better if you turn it on.”

***

Charli ~

I whipped my head around, relieved to hear his voice. “Cal.” I glanced back at my phone and blew out a deep breath. “I’m just delaying the inevitable. You know, the call to Mommie Dearest. Somehow this will all be my fault.”

Cover of "Mommie Dearest (Hollywood Royal...

Cover via Amazon

“She can’t possibly blame the Nor’easter on you.”

“Not the storm, but she’ll say I should’ve left earlier. She’ll bring up how my brother and sisters found ways to get to Aspen on time.”

“Is Duncan there yet?”

“He wasn’t when I called a few hours ago, but he probably is by now. Why?”

“Give me his number,” he said with a smirk.

I narrowed my eyes but gave him the number. Shit, I’d do anything if it’d save me from the wrath of my mother.

He waggled his eyebrows, and I giggled. He put his finger to my mouth and shushed me.

“Hey Duncan, my old friend. You know who this is?…Yes…Hey man, how’ve you been?…Well, funny thing just happened. Guess who I bumped into at O’Hare?…Uh, huh…yup.” He laughed and nodded his head. “Listen, they closed the airport and no more flights are leaving today. Charli’s phone died, and she’s with a ticket agent trying to get a flight out tomorrow morning. She feels horrible about being so late. Can you let your mother know? Yeah, thanks. I’m moving back to New York, so let’s get together after the holidays…Yes, of course, man…I’ll take care of Charli. She’ll call tomorrow. Okay … talk to you later.”

Cal winked and tapped his phone.

I breathed a sigh of relief. “I owe you my life.”

“I’ll settle for you having dinner with me, but first let’s get a place to spend the night. There’s a hotel in the next terminal. We’ll check in and get dinner, stay ahead of or avoid the crowds.”

“Yeah, right. The hotel is probably booked by now. I was about to lay claim on those chairs against the wall before they’re taken. Come on, there’s enough room for both of us.” I took his hand and turned toward a group of unoccupied chairs, but he wouldn’t move. My hand slipped from his.

“No need to do that. The firm I work for has a deal with the hotel chain. I reserved two rooms on the chance we weren’t getting out of here tonight.”

I cocked my head and smiled. “Really?”

200612 jakarta airport hotel

200612 jakarta airport hotel (Photo credit: iambents)

He laughed. “I always prepare for contingencies. And I never joke about a hot shower and warm bed. Let’s go,” he said holding out his hand.

I slipped my hand into his and looked away as my grin broadened. So this is what it felt like having someone look after you. I liked the feeling. I liked it a lot.

***

Want more? Be sure to come back tomorrow for Part 10!

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