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Copyright 1999 by Rod Harden All rights reserved |
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Ellen could feel the warmth of the raging fire from her toes to her earlobes. Michael lay on his back next to her. She snuggled closer to him. "What is it about a fire that makes me so horny?" she asked.
Michael smiled knowingly, his gaze as intense as the fire. She knew he liked the way she looked now, braless, in her tan cropped T-shirt, her silver navel ring glinting against her mocha belly. With her hand resting on his crotch, she could feel the swelling of his own desire. He looked at the fire. "It's raw, elemental energy." He turned to her again. "Same as you, babe." There was something about the way he said the words "raw, elemental," the curl of his lip, almost a sneer. She knew what he was thinking. He wanted to feel her raw energy, her elemental desire. She pressed more insistently against his hardness. But she also knew he'd have to be convinced. He loved to make her convince him. And she loved his show of indifference. He'd pretend to be elsewhere mentally, but she knew he raged inside just like the fire. Just like herself. His jaw, outlined in a thin, dark blonde goatee, was set firm. The dimple in his right cheek showed even when he was stony-faced. His deep blue eyes stared off in the distance. She began to unzip his jeans. He took her hand away from his pants and held it to his lips. Turning it palm up, he kissed it lightly. "We don't have time. We have to leave right away." He seemed to study her hand, as if noticing for the first time the contrasting tone of her palms. She stared at him impatiently, her nostrils flaring. Her head shook in sudden anger, the crazy tangle of braids bouncing in all directions. "Then why even start the damned fire? Why even bother?" His face softened slightly. "I know you like to fuck in front of the fire, babe," he said softly. "This one just took so long to get started..." Her eyes were misting from frustration. Sighing, his face relaxed completely, and he pulled her to him in silent assent. "But we have to make it fast," he whispered. With a burst of raw, elemental energy, she quickly dispensed with his jeans. Her own were off even faster. Neither had worn underwear. Michael lay back with his hands resting behind his head, watching her. His cock pointed toward the heavens they'd soon be joining. Then she was on top of him, straddling his hips. She took his cock and guided it toward her luscious wetness. The smell of burning wood mingled with her own scent, and, just as she settled onto him, a loud snap sounded from the blaze. Ellen pistoned herself along his shaft. The heat from the fire behind her seemed to combine with her own internal flame. She was the fire. But Michael still lay back as if he were a distant, detached observer. She bucked madly on top of him, clenching, moaning. "Come on, Michael. Do it!" Frantically, she grabbed his hands and shoved them under her shirt. She needed to feel his strong fingers taking control of her. He let them lay motionless upon her breasts. Burn, Baby, Burn
With a cry, she tore at his hair. His eyes widened with a wicked glee. "Fuck me, you bastard!" she screamed.
"Bitch!" he shouted back.
She slapped at his face, screeching. "Son of a bitch!"
He was laughing now, giddy. "Are you my mama?"
"You goddamn-- Oh!" She was cut short as he suddenly hooked his fingers in her nipple rings, and yanked. At the same time, he thrust his hips forcefully up into her. She squealed in pain and delight.
"Oh God! Oh God!" she prayed. Fingering her clit herself, she tossed her head in fervent abandon. "Oh God! Oh God!" she chanted again. Almost immediately, powerful shudders gripped her impaled body.
Michael pulled some more on her rings. "Keep going, babe," he hissed. "I ain't there yet."
She needed no such prodding. Her body seemed to crave more than they could ever satisfy. Sparks from the fire shot into the air as she renewed her efforts. Through the haze of her delirium, she could see the fiery orange glow flicker on the pale skin of Michael's hips. How starkly beautiful it looked against the rich chocolate of her own skin.
Soon Michael was jolted by spasms, and she knew his hot cream was spurting deep inside her. He pulled her down to him and kissed her hungrily. Grunting, laughing, crying, they lay together, grinding against one another as the tremblors subsided. Beads of sweat mingled, coalesced and fell from their coupled bodies.
"I love you, Michael," she whispered between gasps.
In the distance a siren sounded. "I love you, too, babe. But we really have to go now."
Startled back to reality by the siren, she stood quickly and grabbed her jeans as Michael did likewise. Neither bothered to dress, but bolted immediately for the car. Ellen winced as her sticky flesh clung to the cool vinyl of the seat. She stared at Michael, silently hurrying him on as he groped for the key.
At last the car started and they sped into the street, well before the first fire truck arrived. Looking back, Ellen smiled as the south wall of the old warehouse came crashing down in a towering pillar of flame.
"That was a good one," she said.
Burn, Baby, Burn |