If it's not one thing.... You know the rest   Finally, the next chapter here. Thinking about rearranging how this is set up so it is easier to follow...

 

With a low roar, Marc swiped out at the man with his paw, claws extended. He caught the front of the man’s shirt, ripping the cotton material and grazing the skin underneath just hard enough to leave a set of parallel scratch marks across his chest. The man jumped straight up into the air like he’d grown springs in the bottom of his feet and he screamed like a little girl. As soon as he hit the ground again, he spun around and took off running. Marc urged him on his way with a warning growl that ended in a loud snap of his teeth together.

As soon as the man was out of sight, he switched back to human. No point in risking more exposure if someone else took an interest in what happened in Delila’s front yard. A car door slammed and a couple of seconds later, tires squealed. Marc started to grin at the way the man had so quickly melted into fear, but as he pushed up to his feet he nearly lost his breath to the pain in his side. Shit.

He’d heal much faster than if he were one-hundred percent human, but he still needed time. And a place he could sleep. Stepping around the bush, he looked around the neighborhood. Nice trimmed lawns and cookie-cutter condos as far as the eye could see. Great. Just great.

He felt sweat roll down his neck and he reached up to brush it away. His hand came back smeared with blood. Hell. Even better. Not only didn’t he have shoes, he couldn’t walk or breathe without pain from his ribs radiating through his body in blasting waves, he was bleeding from the head. And he still had a damn headache. One hell of a way to start a morning. At least the day could only get better.

Where are you, cub?

Or not. His cousin’s distinctive low rumble cut through his thoughts. Normally he considered the telepathic abilities of his kind a huge time-saver. Today it was a serious nuisance. He tried to clear his mind of pain before he answered, but his cousin didn’t wait for a response.

Let me know where to meet you tonight. The clan’s sending me to take over your assignment.

Tonight. That gave him a little time. Claudius was an arrogant asshole and the idea of him even looking at Delila didn’t settle well. And if he knew his cousin at all—which he did—just looking wouldn’t be enough for him.

Keep ignoring me cub, and I’m going to whip your ass when I get there.

Marc sent a short burst of thought starting with a mental image of him flipping his cousin off and ending with the location of a fast food restaurant at the edge of town just off the highway. He blocked further communication before Claudius could respond. His cousin may be a condescending pain in the ass, but he was one of the clan’s top hunters. If they were sending him out here, something was going on.

Most days he appreciated his half-were status because it left him clean out of clan politics and a big chunk of piddling clan responsibilities. Then there were days like today where he really wished he knew what was going on instead of being left to guess and rely on his cousins to dole out information if and whenever the hell they felt like it.

He hissed out a breath and another stab of pain shot through his side. One thing was for sure. He couldn’t just stand outside Delila’s house barefoot and bleeding. He needed a shower and something for his head. And he needed to keep an eye on Blain’s sister. Maybe the woman would return from her run in an understanding mood and make his job easier. And maybe Claudius would take a wrong turn and flash himself into the middle of the ocean. Both were about as likely as the other to happen. Steeling himself against the full-body thrashing he was about to put himself through—again, he called on his powers to teleport himself into her condo. Damn, he hoped she had a fresh pot of coffee on.

 

Summer's gone! Where did the days go? Yikes! Hope yours was great!

Eve

Trying to roll out of range as he went down, he fought the instinctive urge to switch and turn the wackjob into a tiger snack. He wasn’t worried about this bastard’s sensibilities, but if he landed on the front page of the local newspaper, his clan would be seriously pissed.

“Touch her again and I’ll kill you.”

Marc hadn’t rolled far enough and the edge of the bat caught him just behind his ear. A glancing blow, but enough for stars to burst across his vision for a moment. His skin prickled as he felt the change coming. He shook his head, trying to clear it and stop the transformation. If Delila was pissed off that they had made a scene in her neighborhood with a little bump and grind, she’d go apeshit if Little Miss Next Door Mayberry witnessed a man-eating tiger mauling psycho-dude.

A car turned the corner at the end of the block and he sensed the man’s momentary distraction. As much as he wanted to take his face off, that wasn’t part of his assignment. Pushing himself up to his feet, he sprung around the corner of Delila’s condo, out of sight from the street. He gasped for breath as the pain from his ribs nearly brought him to his knees.

“Running, pretty boy? Keep going, asshole.”

Shit! The damn man just wouldn’t back off. He glanced around. Privacy fences secluded this area and there was a six-foot hedge blocking the street’s view.

Suddenly a bat came swinging through the bush.

“You back there, dickwad?”

Marc quit trying to hold back the change as anger surged through him. It took him to all fours and as the man came around the hedge, he bared his teeth and growled.

The man came to a dead stop, his face went to the color of ash and his eyes were round as marbles. He was a large, hyper-beefed up kind of guy with a buzz cut and a scar just under his left eye. Who looked ready to piss his pants. His threats had died on the air, replaced by high, squeaky sounds.

Time to play. Nice of the rat to come to the cat for a change.

 

Time to vote: Does Marc’s clan send someone to help him?

 

Have a great week!

Eve

This story started on May 12^th. For future reference for those of you trying to keep up with Marc and Delila, my intention is to get another part of the story up every Sunday to start the week with.

Sometimes it’s a challenge for me to write what you vote on, but I’m having so much fun with it! Hope you’re having just as much fun reading. On to this week’s installment according to your vote!

 

Marc shoved his hair out of his face with both hands and watched Delila until she took a left at the end of the street and disappeared from view. Damn, the woman had a great ass. Unfortunately—really, really unfortunately—his assignment had nothing to do with Delila’s ass.

He was here to take care of Blain. A simple job, supposedly. But nobody told him there was a sister involved. He wondered if anyone knew Blain had a sister. All the other humans turned from human to vampire by the Vetalani clan were orphans or so cut off from society, no one would start searching for them when they disappeared from their life.

For the most part, weres and vamps pretended the other didn’t exist—you play on your side of the playground, I’ll play on mine. A primitive system, but it sure as hell worked a lot better than trying to share a swing set with those freaks. A sentiment he knew all too well was shared by vamps about weres. On the whole, they co-existed in an uneasy peace, skirmishing only when one got too close to the demarcation line.

Unlike the were-clans, the vamps had a hierarchal system that took einsteinian ability to untangle and follow. He doubted even they knew who was in charge of whom once you got past the first one hundred levels. Apparently, whoever was in charge of the Vetalani clan were either ignorant or turning a blind eye to their continued trashing of Vampire Law—a fluid, constantly changing document, filled with complexities, archaic language, primitive punishments and more crap than anyone in their right mind would ever wade through.

Marc snorted in derision. Were Law was much more simple. You endanger me or mine, I eat you. Which was why he was hunting Blain. This time a Vetalani had crossed the line into Cullen territory and killed one of their own. The same vampire that had killed his sister had turned Blain. Left the same scent. That’s why he was here. Unfortunately, this was only one of the newly turned vamps carrying the same scent, and not one of the leads his clan considered very important or they wouldn’t have sent him. They’d have sent a full were with full powers.

Supposedly the vamps were “taking care” of the problem. Bullshit. Or vampshit. Whatever. They could do whatever they wanted with the vampire debris leftover once the Cullen clan finished taking their vengeance.

Another car door slammed across the street and Marc rubbed his temple. His head was still pounding from his teleportation and now that Delila’s ass had disappeared around the corner, he was no longer distracted from the pain. What was it with these people? Couldn’t anyone just simply close a damn door without slamming it?

The sound of anger rushing up behind him caught him by surprise. Before his human body could turn on his possible adversary, his animal side defined the sounds. Human. Male. Heavy-treading, fast steps and breaths rushing out like an old steam engine. Shit. Another neighbor pissed at him for kissing Delila in her driveway coming to give him a piece of his mind probably. What was this? Freakin’ Puritanville?

He lowered his hackles and decided to try and calm down this guy before Delila got back. Once she discovered her brother had gone vampire, her day would probably go straight to hell. Personally, he couldn’t think of much news that would be worse. Least he could do was deflect her neighbors’ complaints for her.

Turning around slowly, he lifted his hands, palms out. “Look, man, sorry about the—”

Marc barely got a glimpse of the bat that connected with his side, cracking a couple of ribs and sending him to his knees. “Stay the hell away from Delila!”

Time to vote: Should Marc switch into his tiger form or not?

Enjoy!

Eve

(If you’re new, this story started on May 12^th  if you want to find out why Marc is kissing the sense right out of Delila on her front porch.)

 

Consumed. By heat and need and ohmygod his hands felt amazing on her body. Delila went up on her tiptoes, trying to get closer, press harder against the solid wall of warm muscle in front of her. Sensation surged through her like a tsunami, flinging her through her normal barriers of good sense and inhibitions like a boulder through a plate glass window. Shattering any reservations or hesitation. God! The way he kissed! How he tasted! His touch made her skin shiver and heat at the same time, his confident and bold caresses shocking her and really, really turning her on. Made her want to—

Slam! The jarring sound of her next door neighbor forcefully closing her car door yanked Delila out of her ecstatic trance. She jerked her head back and realized she was standing in front of her house on a Thursday morning involved in a free-for-all grope and moan session with a virtual stranger. Dropping her leg, which at some point had tried to wind around his waist, she glanced over her shoulder to find Mrs. Howard glaring at her as she backed out of her driveway. Jeez. She’d probably be officially reprimanded at the next Home Owners’ Association meeting for an inappropriate public display of graphic actions.

She looked back up at Marc who still had one hand wrapped in her ponytail and one hand between her legs. His features were sharp with lust, his lips drawn in a tight line and his golden-brown eyes dark as they glinted down at her. She pushed against his chest, but didn’t make any progress in dislodging the arms wrapped around her with the give of two steel bands.

“Let go of my ass,” she said, her voice cracking on the strained words. His eyes narrowed slightly and his gaze shifted down to her mouth with a hunger that threatened to break the strand of sanity she was clinging to. “Now.”

His breath exhaled on a slow hiss as his hands slid from her. His release was as erotic as his embrace had been, one hand slowly unwinding her hair from around his fist and then skimming over her neck and shoulder and down her arm while the other pressed up into her sex, fingers dragging back and over her as he moved it to her butt. Splaying his hand wide, he ran it up to her hip before dropping it to his side.

Taking a step back, she brushed her mouth with her fingertips. Her lips still tingled and felt swollen to the touch. Marc looked like he was ready to pounce given the slightest opening and her body was all for extending the invitation. Where the hell had this man come from? Planet of the sex gods? Time to jump back into reality before someone with a cell phone drove by and she ended up on an internet porn site being taken on her porch.

“Sorry about that,” she said, looking around at her lawn that needed to be watered. Looking anywhere but his eyes. They seemed to have an odd, hypnotic effect on her that made it difficult to think about anything but how good it felt to be pressed full-length against him. “I didn’t mean for the flirting to get so carried away…especially in my front yard,” she finished, more to herself than anyone else.

“Delila.”

Whether it was the husky, sexy timbre still lacing his voice or the fact that he reached for her again, Delila jumped back as if he’d tried to hand her a snake. She hated snakes.

“Well, ok then," she said with a big fake smile, doing her best to imitate the perky morning weather girl on the local morning news channel. "Nice to meet you. Need to run—literally—so I’m not late for work. I’m sure Blain will be along any minute.” She gestured vaguely at his feet. “Maybe he’ll even remember to bring your shoes.” Without waiting for Marc to respond, she jogged down the driveway. When he called her name again, she pretended not to hear him and kept running.  

Time to vote: Delila has a child, a roommate, a crazy ex-boyfriend or one big-ass dog?

 Best wishes for a great week!

Eve

(Remember, this story started on May 12th, if you're new or would like to review. I'll make an honest attempt to post the next part of the story in less time than it took for this installment - vacation and all you know.)

 

Marc didn’t move as Delila continued stretching for her run. So far, his favorite warm-up was the first one where she bent over and stuck her ass in the air. Of course, the second one wasn’t hard to watch either. She reached over her shoulder and behind her back with one arm while pushing down on her elbow with her opposite hand. He wasn’t sure what the point was other than to push her breasts out nicely—which it did—very nicely. He’d always been a breast man and as far as he could tell, underneath that sports bra, Delila’s were damn near perfect. Round and high and each one looking to be a solid handful.

He shifted to get comfortable as his erection pressed more insistently against the back of his zipper.

“So what do you think?” Delila stood facing him with a foot propped straight-legged on the railing. She bent at the waist as she asked the question, reached for and held the bottom of her shoe. Besides showcasing her tanned legs, the ease with which she had moved into that position emphasized how limber her body was, sending his present fantasies into extra innings.

When he didn’t respond, she lifted her head to look up at him. After being granted that amazing view of her cleavage, the only thought in his head was having her naked and wrapped around him. He was pretty sure that’s not what she was asking his opinion on—but goddamn if he could recall what they’d actually been talking about.

He blinked and moved his gaze from her breasts to her eyes. Shrugging, he tried to play it off. “Depends. What do you think?”

Her green eyes sparkled with laughter and she said, “I think I just told you what I think and you were too busy staring at my chest to hear a single word I said.”

“Not true.”

She raised her eyebrows in exaggerated disbelief.

“It’s not,” he contended, stuffing his hands in the front pockets of his jeans when they started to itch with the need to touch her.

“Right,” she said.

“I was too busy staring at your ass to hear what you were saying. By the time I got around to your chest, I didn’t even realize we were still having a conversation.”

She rolled her eyes and switched legs. “Typical man.”

Typical he was anything but. Man—well, he could meet her at least halfway there.

“Well,” she said as she hopped down the stairs to stand beside him, “at least you’re an honest lecher.”

His head snapped up in irritation. “I’m not a lecher.”

“Oh really?” Her voice had lowered to a suggestive purr and there was a look in her eyes that he didn’t trust but damn well liked.

She leaned closer, until her breasts nearly brushed his chest and he forgot the point he was about to make. If he took a deep breath, he’d be able to—

“You’re staring at my breasts again.” The way she said it, slow and sensual and taking full advantage of her honeyed Texas drawl to infuse every word with sex, made it less a reprimand than an invitation. “And I bet you’re imagining them without my top to get in your way."

Marc blinked at the sudden change in tone she'd taken. But he wasn't fool enough to stop or interrupt her, no matter how much she'd surprised him.

The tip of her tongue traced the corner of her mouth as if she were thinking hard about what she was going to say next. "I suppose you'd also be thinking about how they’d feel weighted in your hands, or sliding over your stomach.”

Afraid to break whatever spell she was under, he didn't move as the sweet torture she was inflicting on him paused for a moment when she took a breath. A deep one. One that doubled the torment as her breasts just barely grazed his chest.

He felt the groan working its way out of his throat in time to catch it. She was purposefully torturing him and he wasn’t about to stop her. Or let her have the satisfaction of knowing how hard she was getting to him. Shit. He was going to have to look up the word lecher. Apparently, he might have been wrong.

She started walking her fingers up his ribs and fire blazed under his skin. “I even bet you’ve been wondering if I have a tan line. Maybe even what color my nipples are. How they would tighten against your palms if you rubbed them just the right way.”

If he hadn’t been, he sure as hell was now. The animal side of his nature shook itself and roused with its appetite whetted for mating. The immediate desire for a woman had never been so strong and roared against reason in his head.

Delila looked up at him from under her lowered eyelashes and licked her lips. He wanted that mouth. Now. A tremor went through him at the fierceness of the inner struggle to keep himself under control.

“I bet,” she murmured as she flattened her hands over his chest and slid them up towards his neck, “you’ve even thought about how they would taste—”

Marc’s arms closed around her, bringing her firm curves flush against his body. She gasped in surprise, but his mouth clamped down hard over hers, cutting off any coming words. Thrusting his tongue deep inside her mouth, he kissed her with all the wildness she’d set loose inside of him. He wouldn’t let her not respond. Delving and sucking, gently biting then followed by healing brushes of his tongue, Marc felt Delila’s passion rise to meet his own as he bent her back and molded her body to his own.

The kiss continued for long moments as he learned her taste, her smell, her feel. What she liked, what she responded to with her moans, her mouth, her entire body. His hands caressed her back and shoulders, and then one slipped down past her waist to cup her ass. His fingertips teased the hem of her shorts and slid between her legs to feel the heat there. Her soft cry of need filled his mouth and he pressed her more firmly against his erection and rocked into her.

Her fingernails scored the back of his neck and she nipped his lower lip hard enough that he tasted a drop of his own blood. In his soul, something dark and unknown convulsed and surged to life. Even as he took her mouth in another savagely consuming kiss, he knew this was no longer a kiss. This was a claiming.

 

Time to vote: Who pulls out of the kiss first?

Hope you're enjoying the story so far...

Eve

(This story started on May 12th, if you're new and would like the following to make sense )

 

There was something wrong with Marc's story, but his touch had set off a flutter of confetti-throwing butterflies in her stomach and that voice of his—damn! A shiver of oh my god take me now! had coursed through every erogenous zone she had when he said he was sure he was going to enjoy himself. All sorts of erotic ways he could do that and make her very happy as well flashed through her mind like so many old-fashioned flashbulb cameras going off one after the other. With her entire body nearly vibrating from a libido bouncing up and down shouting "so right! so right! oh yeah, baby! so right!", it was difficult to concentrate on what might be wrong. So, so not good since she wasn’t ready to go on the trip her body was revving up for.

After the last disastrous relationship rollercoaster she’d bought a ticket to ride, she was concentrating on her career first and then-and only then-picking out a man that fit with her goals according to criteria she was still developing. Hangs out with irresponsible brother, drinks too much to remember what he did, and gets locked in stranger’s trunk were not on her list of “must haves.”

Delila withdrew her hand from Marc’s. No doubt the man was a hunk of pure eye candy. His well-worn Metallica t-shirt molded to a mouth-watering set of pecs and biceps and his jeans rode low over slim hips and long legs. The soft denim also cradled an impressive package that sent those recalcitrant butterflies in her stomach into hissy fits of raging lust. She realized she was staring at his crotch and immediately jerked her attention back up to his face.

His blond-streaked hair fell across his eyes in a couple of thick strands but didn’t disguise the challenge or interest in his golden brown gaze. A bead of sweat trickled between her shoulder blades and slithered down her back. She took a deep breath and stepped around him to retrieve her running shoes from the trunk. The reason she’d come out here in the first place.

She hadn’t missed the fact that Marc’s focus had sharpened and zeroed in on her breasts when she sucked in air. At least the lust was flowing in both directions. After slamming the trunk shut, she propped a hip against the back of her car and cooled her fired-up hormones with a splash of frigid reality. “So how do you know my brother?”

A strange look passed over Marc’s face. “I met him through a mutual acquaintance.”

“A woman?”

“No.”

Relieved, Delila pushed away from her car and moved to the little portico in front of her front door to sit on the edge of the small step. Picking up the ankle socks she had dropped there, she unfolded them and shook one out. “That’s good to hear.”

Marc followed her over and propped his forearms on the railing around her tiny porch which she was sure the architects had planned more as decoration  than support. Leaning over her as he was with the morning sun backlighting him, he appeared huge, his position emphasizing his upper arms which looked about ready to burst out of the straining sleeves. She had the sudden comic book image of his shirt ripping open and flying off his body in ragged strips, leaving his muscular chest heaving before her for her own personal visual enjoyment. Yum.

“Why’s that?”

Delila blinked. “Why’s what?”

The left corner of Marc’s mouth curved up and she had the sudden urge to put her tongue right in that spot and trace the line of his bottom lip around. Damn it. Goals were so much easier to focus on when you were getting laid regularly. Before her abrupt spurt of horniness could overtake all her common sense, she looked down at her feet and concentrated on putting on her socks and shoes.

“Why’s it good that Blain and I didn’t meet through a woman?”

“Blain has a way of getting in trouble and that trouble usually begins with a woman and ends with a boyfriend, husband, brother or father out for his blood.”

“That’s hard to believe.” The sarcasm in Marc’s response was thick and biting.

Delila stood and started warming up for her run. Taking in a deep breath, she eased it out with her next question as she bent at the waist to stretch her hamstrings. “What? Did he already put the moves on your girlfriend?”

“Not exactly.” His voice trailed off.

With her arms still wrapped around her calves to maintain the stretch, she lifted her head slightly to look up at him. He was staring at her ass with a hungry, I-want-that expression on his face. She tucked her head back down and grinned to herself. No matter what her goals were, having a hot guy drool over her felt good. If he hung out with her brother, no doubt the man was a shameless player as well, and he’d been sexually taunting her and enjoying her reactions since he got out of the trunk. Time for a little payback. Besides, a little harmless flirting never hurt anyone.

 

 

Time to vote: How far should Delila let Marc get during her flirtation?

Click on the sidebar and log in your opinion!

           “You’ve got a lot of nerve telling me to go away when you’re locked in the trunk of my car.”

The great view Marc had of her breasts shot up and was replaced by a nice one of a tanned and toned stomach. He pushed his hair back out of his eyes and looked up at the woman. Her black hair was pulled into a pony tail so that the ends of it just brushed her shoulder as she stood glaring down at him, her fisted hands on her hips. The green of her eyes flashed like twin emerald fires as she gave him a thorough once over.

"Was locked in your trunk."

“Just exactly how did you get yourself locked in there?”

Marc propped himself up on his elbows and looked around. The fresh, early morning air was putting up a valiant fight, but it was easy to tell that the heat of another southern, mid-summer day would soon squelch all coolness with its cloying humidity. God he wished he were back up north.

“Would you believe me if I said I didn’t know?” He did know, but thought playing dumb was a better idea than trying to explain his werefamily’s vendetta against a marauding rogue vampire clan. He doubted that was something the woman could swallow first thing in the morning and knew he sure as hell would need several cups of coffee and a long shower before he'd attempt an explanation even if he were willing. Which he wasn't.

Rubbing his head, he didn’t have to pretend to be in pain. He wasn’t a full were-tiger, but retained some of his family’s abilities such as limited teleportation from one place to another. Only difference with him was that if he flashed through solid material, it hurt like hell afterwards. Kind of like a full-body hangover.

The woman's eyes narrowed. “You were with my brother last night, weren’t you?” She nodded and pursed her lips. Light pink lips bare of any gloss or stain. The bottom one looked slightly swollen, like a lover had just dragged his teeth over it.

Marc groaned and sat up. He was in no condition to take a female, but a part of his body was voicing its dissent. “What makes you say that?”

“He’s the only other person with a key to my car and he’d think it was funny to lock a drunk friend in his sister’s trunk. The idiot.”

With careful, deliberate movements intended to jar his abused body as little as possible, Marc crawled out of the back of the car. He winced as the sharp edges of gravel cut into his bare feet. At least he hadn’t lost his clothes when he flashed from one place to another this time. He’d been practicing on that.

“So where’d you meet Blain?”

The question snapped Marc up straight as he forgot about the gravel and the steady throb of pain through his muscles. “Blain?”

She frowned up at him, holding her hand to shade against the sun as she looked up at him. “Yeah, Blain Allen. My brother.”

Shit. Blain had a sister? This hunt was headed to hell on the express route. Time to jump into the game and start loading the deck with some cards of his own. He shook his head and gave her a little grin. “Sorry. Brain’s still a little hazy from last night. Blain never mentioned he had a sister. But I’m pretty fuzzy on everything after we left Shreveport sometime yesterday evening, so he could have well given me your life history and I’d never remember it.” He glanced around at the tall pines backing the nice, if cookie-cutter condominiums he found himself in front of. "Am I still in Louisiana?"

“Nope. You've made it to east Texas. Couple hours south and west of Shreveport, depending on how many bars and honkytonks you stopped at along the way, of course." She held out her hand. "I’m Delila. Welcome to Molly, Texas.”

“Marc Cullen.” He shook her hand. It was small and soft in his though she held it with a firm grip. All things working together to put images in his mind of an entirely different nature than a friendly greeting of two strangers.

Without releasing her hand, he let his gaze wander from her eyes down to her mouth. When she swiped her tongue nervously across that full bottom lip of hers he didn’t bother trying to hide his grin. He looked back up and caught the sexual awareness crackling to life in the depths of her eyes like the green light on a racetrack. “Thank you," he said, letting the low, natural purr of his voice wrap his words with an underlying invitation. "I’m sure I’m going to enjoy it here.”

Thank you to all who voted! Results from the votes for this story: A contemporary paranormal romance in which the hero, Marc Cullen and the heroine, Delila Allen, have never met before. So let's get started...

 

Chapter 1

 

“Would you wake up?”

Marc tried to open his eyes, but the thudding in his head made doing anything but returning to an unconscious state unappealing. Someone jabbed him in the shoulder and another lightning bolt of pain seared through his brain. He mumbled a curse.

“What? What did you say?”

He cracked his eyes open. Light speared in through the thin slits and he swore he could hear the sizzling and popping as it branded the back of his eyeballs. Immediately he slapped a hand over his eyes. Regretted the action the moment he did it.

“Christ,” he hissed. “Go away.”

There was a blessed silence for a moment. No demands. No prodding. But still plenty of pain.

“Go away?”

The woman’s voice was soft, but he didn’t miss the thread of iron underlying the words. Shit. He wasn't up for a meddling female. No matter how good she smelled.

“Yes, go away.” Moving his fingers just enough to peer through them while letting in the smallest amount of light possible, he finally managed to bring his gaze into focus. On a great set of tits stuffed into a sports bra that lifted on a sudden intake of breath. Even with the pain radiating through his body he could truly appreciate the sight before him. He was a man after all. Well, mostly.

“You’ve got a lot of nerve telling me to go away when you’re

 

So where is Marc? Time to vote and find out!

Eve

 

Oh yes! At least I am. I'm kinda wishing I hadn't decided I'd wait so long to get started on the story now. But since this is a new site, I thought I shouldn't just jump right in, but give those who wanted, a chance to vote. So we'll see! And I am learning this as I go too, so if there's a bloops or a bump somewhere along the line and you notice and I don't, feel free to send me a note and I'll try to get it fixed if I can.

Meanwhile, I think I'm going to have to introduce the characters soon. Stay tuned...  

Eve

I'm so excited about this! I can't wait to get started. But I want your input as I create these stories. It's the first time I've tried something like this and, gotta be honest, it makes me a little nervous never knowing which direction a story might turn depending on the votes cast!

Since this is new, I'm going to extend the voting time a little this first time out. Though I'll be doing some posting here in the between-time, I'll reveal your choices on Saturday, May 12th.

 How fun! Let's get started! Use the link on the side and go vote!

 Eve