tagErotic CouplingsS Is For Sea Food

S Is For Sea Food

byvelvetpie©

Inspired by Sue Grafton’s alphabetical series.

Lieutenant Sean M. Tompkins carefully checked the address scribbled on the paper in his hand and looked up at the black numerals on the stucco wall. It was right. This was is. This was the place. He took a deep breath and wiped his hands on the clean pants of his uniform, checking for smudges. There were none. His pants were perfectly creased and the shoulders of his jacket perfectly blocked. His face was clean-shaven, his hazel eyes clear and his brows trimmed. In other words, he was perfect. He had to be perfect. He was going to meet her.

He pulled the outer door open and checked the buzzer panel, searching for her last name. There it is! He swallowed past the lump in his throat, rubbing his finger across the raised lettering. Sawyer. Apartment 3B. He depressed the button and waited.

“Who is it?” He was so startled to hear her voice that he couldn’t speak. “Who is it?”

“Uh, good afternoon, ma’am. My name is Sean Tompkins. I came to speak with Eliza Sawyer.”

“I don’t know any Sean Tompkins. Goodbye.”

The intercom went dead and he stared at it for a long moment. She had hung up! No! He rang the buzzer again, contemplating his words.

“Who is it?”

“It’s Sean Tompkins, ma’am, and before you hang up, please give me a minute.”

The tiny speaker buzzed with static and silence. “Clock’s ticking.”

“I know that I’m imposing on you, but I’ve come a long way to meet you. You see, I just got off a flight from Germany. I was in the Landstuhl Med Center there because I got shot in the line of duty.” He leaned on the cane, ignoring the bite of pain in his hip. “Anyway, they gave me an early release, honorable discharge, the whole works and now I’m here.”

More static. “That doesn’t explain why you’re here.”

“While I was in the hospital, I found one of your books and I fell in love with you. I had the nurses find more and now, I’ve read them all.”

“You must be mistaken. I’m not a writer.”

“It took me a long time and nearly a thousand dollars to find the information. But I know that you’re Rayvn Velvett.”

More silence and static from the intercom speaker. “You are mistaken … “

“Let me give you a description of me. I’m six foot one, 235 pounds, stocky and sturdy. I have hazel eyes, large hands and my dick is six inches, thick and long.”

He thought he heard a gasp from her side. “It can’t … you can’t … “

“I am.” He whispered, caressing the cold metal of the intercom’s protective grate. “I know you’ve been dreaming about me. Your books described me so perfectly that I can’t be wrong.”

“But … “

“And I’ve been dreaming about you, too.”

Her shields rose again. “Then what do I look like if you’ve been dreaming about me?”

“You’ve got the face of an angel. Brown eyes, black hair, soft lips. You love to be touched, to have a man’s hands caressing your skin and to be kissed on the nape of your neck.”

“You read that from the books. Goodbye, Mr. Tompkins.”

“WAIT!” He leaned close to the speaker again. “You have a large scar on the inside of your right thigh from a car accident and you always wear sweats to cover it. And you’re black. Not Ivory Coast dark. Milk chocolate dark. Comes from the mix of African and Cherokee in your blood.”

“How did you … “

“Please let me up. I’m not a crack pot. You know in your heart that I’m not.”

She hung up again. Sean’s shoulders sagged at the realization and he slumped against the wall. Could he have been mistaken? He knew he couldn’t be. He remembered the feeling in the pit of his stomach as he read that first novel. The subtle details that described him … there could be no mistake. He’d just have to figure out how to make her see …

The door release buzzer nearly startled him off his feet. He stumbled, yanked the door open and regained his balance, using the cane. He was grateful to see that there was an elevator just inside. He wasn’t sure if he’d be able to navigate three flights of stairs. He wasn’t even supposed to be on the hip yet, grimacing as a spear of pain lanced through him. He thumbed the UP button and shuffled inside.

When the door opened, she was waiting in the hallway and even in mid-morning disarray, she took his breath away. Her toned upper body was encased in a pink A-shirt that clung to her slightly sagging breasts and accentuated her flat stomach. Sweats completed the outfit, soft and grey, with an amoeba-like bleach stain on the left knee. A black chopstick held her long hair in place and a blue pen jutted out, just above her right ear.

He limped over to her, trying to maintain his military bearing and held out the bouquet he’d brought for her. “Hello, ma’am. I’m Sean Tompkins.”

Sean saw the struggle in her eyes but she gave a shy half-smile. “Eliza Sawyer.” Her lips were soft and dark pink, in perfect contrast to the beauty of her skin. “Come on in.”

Sean stepped into her apartment, closing the door behind him and taking his hat off. It was tastefully decorated, but he had already known that it would be. The narrow entranceway held a populated coat rack with an errant umbrella or two and a gold-framed print of a Paul Collins print. It was Harriet Tubman’s Underground Railroad and the atmosphere of the piece drew him in like a magnet. He could almost feel the cold of the night surrounding the escaping slaves, the fear evinced in their expressive features, the hope in their hearts.

“That’s my favorite piece of his.” She moved close enough that he could smell her scent, a mix of fabric softener, chocolate and her natural musk. “I like their faces.”

“I do, too, especially hers.” He pointed to the woman who was leading the group of slaves, a shotgun in her hand. “She knows that their lives depend on her. That their survival is up to her.” He saw her turn towards him out of the corner of her eye. He wondered if he had said the wrong thing.

“You’re the first person that’s ever said that.” Eliza’s smile was brilliant. “Would you like to sit down? I was just going to have a little lunch. Are you hungry?”

“Yes, ma’am. Last time I ate was on the plane.”

“Will a grilled ham and cheese be okay? I haven’t been to the store today.”

“That would be perfect.”

“Great.”

He listened to her move about in the kitchen and continued his exploration of the apartment. The living room held more art, mostly seascapes and a cherry bookcase stuffed with gilt-edged books. Her computer was set on a large glass desk in the corner, the plasma monitor’s face alive with a screen saver that was displaying nature scenes. A small yellow pad held notes for her stories and ideas and a clipboard held a checklist of items.

She came out of the kitchen balancing two plates and two beers and stood stock still, seeing him seated at her desk. “Um … “

“Oh, I’m sorry.” Sean stood and went to the couch. “I was just … “ Shit!

For some reason, Eliza smiled. She knew what he was doing and that it was harmless. He was just a fan, wasn’t he? “It’s okay.” She set the plates down on the table, striding over to him to hand him a beer. His hazel eyes met hers and she shivered, not sure why, but certain that it had something to with the expression within them. “Sam Adams okay? It’s cherry wheat.”

“Not a problem. It’s been such a long time since I’ve had good beer. Thank you.” Sean’s fingers touched hers and he heard her gasp over his as an almost palpable spark leaped between them. He saw the recognition in her eyes, quickly followed by fear. “I won’t hurt you.”

Eliza wanted to believe his words but no matter how swiftly her heart was beating, this man was still a stranger. A stranger that you have a connection to, her brain reminded her. “I – “ She had no words to answer him with but felt her hand reaching toward his cheek, her fingers stretching to take warmth from his skin. His eyes closed, his breath arrested, his body still. And there it was. That spark that seemed to sear her, traveling from skin to skin. His eyes jerked open, meeting with hers again and his hand moved up, gently closing over hers. “Who are you?”

“The man who was meant for you.”

“But how? Why? I don’t understand.”

“Neither do I.” He stood, towering over her and looking down into her face. “But I know what I’m feeling.”

“Me, too.” Eliza’s whispery voice seemed to add further magic to the already charged atmosphere. His eyes were so soft, she thought. So gentle. So … her last thought flew like the wind as he bent and touched his dry, warm lips against hers. An uncontrollable shudder streaked through her, making her nipples tingle and her pussy awaken from its slumber. The pressure of his lips was tantalizing and with a groan, she opened to the cauldron of his mouth.

The first touch of her tongue was like nothing he’d ever known before, even surpassing his first kiss at twelve with Tammy Klinger. It was tentative, questing and questioning and he answered her uncertainty with his own exploration, tempered with restrained passion and secret hope. It was a deepening kiss, pulling both into a maelstrom of emotions that threatened to drown them both until Eliza stumbled back, disconnecting them.

“Eliza.”

She shied away from his extended hand, nervously drinking half of the beer down in a few seconds. “No, don’t touch me.”

“Why?”

“Because I can’t think.”

“Maybe that’s good.”

“Not for me.”

“Is that why you write as Rayvn Velvett?”

“I told you, that’s not me.”

“And I’m telling you that it is.” Sean set his beer on the table, advancing on her. “I’m telling you that I know that it’s you. You hide behind the pseudonym because you’re afraid of real life. You live as her.”

“But that doesn’t explain … “

“Me? You created me as well.”

“I created you?”

“You don’t recognize me, then?”

Eliza stared at him in total confusion. And then she knew. Tommy Bartlow!

Tommy Bartlow had lived on the house at the end of the street she grew up on and there wasn’t a day that went by that she hadn’t sat in her room and watched him walk by, pining over him. He was a star athlete at school and was never short on dates. But he never noticed her. The tomboyish black girl. She worshipped the ground he walked on but he’d never noticed. Then, the last day of school for seniors, he’d caught up with her in the hallway and had given her a kiss.

He said, “I know I haven’t had much to say to you, Liza, but I know you’ve been giving me support, even if it’s from your window.” She had laughed, nervous tears in her eyes. “I’m heading off to sea and I just wanted you to know before I left.”

“You’re leaving?”

“Yes. I signed up to join the Marines. I leave at the end of the week.”

“Oh.”

“Will you write me?”

“Of course.” Then, awkwardly. “Take care of yourself.”

That had been nearly ten years ago. It had been five years ago that she had received news that Tommy Bartlow had been killed in a gun turret accident. And it had been five years ago that Rayvn Velvett had been born and she had poured her unrequited love for Tommy Bartlow into her books, renaming him Sean Tompkins.

“But you died!”

“Yes, I did.” He took another step closer to her. “Do you remember what I asked you before I left?”

“Yes.” Her voice shook. “You asked me to write you.”

“Yes. To write me.

The precise words floated around in her head. Her grief had turned her into a recluse and had given birth to Rayvn Velvett, who was, in turn, beloved by millions of romance readers. Each novel she’d written had been a love letter to Tommy, who’d never known the depths of her love. To write me, he had asked. And that she had done. She had written him. He had become the central character in her book as he had been in her heart.

“I wrote you.” She gasped in awe. “I wrote you.”

“Yes, my darling. Somehow, you brought me back to life by writing those books and I felt your love in every paragraph and line. And I was so ashamed of myself, to think that all those years that you lived down the street from me and you loved me that much … “ Sean desperately wanted to touch her. His body was burning with need, hungering to feel her tongue in his mouth again.

“But that means that you’re not real.”

Sean took her hand in his, rubbing his lips against the back of her hand. “Does that feel real?”

Eliza’s heart was pounding, the blood rushing into her cheeks. “Yes.”

“Then believe.”

Believe. Every fiber of her being wanted to believe. She wanted to believe that her friends had been wrong in thinking she was crazy to love a man who barely acknowledged her. She wanted to believe that her editor had been wrong when she’d told her that she should let him go and start another series. She wanted to believe that this love she’d carried for so long was true. He was standing in front of her, his eyes piercing her long-held defenses. He stood here with a simple request. Believe.

Sean saw the tremble in her hand as she put it around his and lowered her mouth to his knuckle, her lips opening and her tongue giving it a lazy suck. The touch of her tongue sent bolts right to his prick and he grabbed her, crushing her mouth under his. She whimpered, her body quivering even more as his hands roamed across her back, gathering at her shoulder blades and pulling her further into him, his tongue slipped over her teeth and wrapping around hers again and again.

Eliza felt a hot tremor tear through her body, feeding into her pussy and making her squirm in her arms. Goosebumps seemed to rise wherever his fingers touched her skin and her body molded to his, quivering yet again as his hard cock rubbed against her.

“I came here to make love to you, Eliza. Please say yes.”

Eliza thought she was dreaming, hearing his words. “Yes, Sean. Yes.” She led him to her bedroom and watched as he reverently set his hat on her dresser and set his cane next to the chair. Just seeing the way he treated his things told her that this was her Tommy, her Sean. This was a man that she wanted to give herself to. She wasn’t sure of how long this would last, if it went past this encounter but she was going to give every bit of herself to him. At least she’d be able to say that she felt alive once in her life.

Sean limped over to her, hoping that her eyes weren’t being drawn to his impediment, but being held by the sincerity in his eyes. To his heart’s surprise, she crossed the space to him, wrapping her arms around him and allowing him to lean on her. If he stopped and thought about it, he would start crying, he knew, so he focused on her, on the clear beauty of her dark eyes and on the sureness of her touch. She tilted her head up to him, her sooty lashes brushing her chocolate skin as her eyes closed and her pink lips parted to receive his tongue.

Eliza felt dizzy at first. Then she remembered to breathe. His strong arms pressed her body into his and she struggled to gain some kind of control over her emotions but she was fighting a losing battle. The gentle element that lay beneath his increasingly passionate kisses was steadily undermining her determination to remain somewhat aloof. She was trying to remain true to herself, to keep reminding herself that there might not be another moment like this but something inside her kept overriding her thoughts, instead playing upon her deepest wishes. She trembled uncontrollably as his hands moved upward, cupping her breasts and teasing her nipples with his thumbs.

Her gasp sent flares of heat coursing up his spine and he added a little pressure. She trembled again, giving a voice to the growing desire that she was feeling. When she pulled back, he was a bit confused but she reached for the buttons on his jacket, making quick work of them and pulling it off. She didn’t let it fall to the floor, though. She folded it and laid it over the back of the chair, returning to his arms. He took the opportunity to tug the A-shirt out of her sweats and run his hands all over her warm flesh, finding the nipples that he’d massaged into hardness and giving them a pinch.

Oh, God! The feeling of his hands on his skin melted her insides but when his mouth captured one of her nipples, her legs gave out. They crashed onto the bed, his lips moving across her skin and his hand applying pressure to her cupped pussy. “Oh! Please quit teasing me.”

“Why?” His breath on her neck made an involuntary shiver run through her. “It’s so delicious.”

“It’s driving me crazy!”

“That’s the point.” Sean pulled back, staring into her eyes. “I don’t want this to be a quickie. I want to remember it forever.”

“Sounds like you’re already on your way out the door.”

The pain in her voice caught and held his attention. “I’d stay forever if you’d ask me.”

Eliza pulled him back down onto her, thrusting her tongue into his mouth and shivering at the touch and taste of him. His fingers pushed past the elastic waistband of the sweats, burrowing into her panties and finding her hot liquid center. She moaned against his mouth, gasping when his finger slid inside her. She didn’t want his finger there. She wanted the hard length of meat she felt in his uniform’s dress pants. She opened his belt, unbuttoned the button and slid the zipper down, reaching inside and stroking him.

Suddenly, Sean couldn’t wait any longer. He tugged her sweats off, pushed her legs open and bent to apply his tongue to her already soaked pussy. She whispered his name, her body arching. Sean swirled his tongue around, drinking in her essence and loving her whimpers and cries. Then, two words stopped him.

“Please. Now.”

Sean pushed his shoes off and tossed his pants aside, moving between her legs. Then in one swift movement, he sank into the bottom of her velvet tunnel, groaning with her. When he came here, he had hoped that this would happen but now that it was, he was overwhelmed by his feelings. She moved with him, taking his length into her again and again, gazing up into his eyes as she came. He felt a blanket of her cum coating his cock and bit his lip to keep from following.

It didn’t work. Just as she gasped through her third orgasm, she felt him swell inside her, then release a torrent of hot seed that squeezed its way out of her pussy and dripped down her legs. Eliza wrapped her arms around him, pulling him close as he shook in the aftermath of his climax.

“I’m sorry.”

“Sorry? Why?”

“I came too quickly.”

“It’s okay.” Eliza searched his eyes, knowing in her heart that this was the man for her, that somehow she’d been given a chance at love. “Sean, I’m asking you now. Stay. Forever.”

Sean answered her with a deep kiss, holding her close. “I will stay on one condition.”

“What’s that?”

“Write us a little girl.”

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