Cherries will Never Taste the Same

"Shall I go get them," she asks, "or would you prefer we go together?"

"I'll go," you say. "You wait here." You step forward, and she shivers when your bodies brush together before you move around her. She stays standing, hand braced against the table to give her suddenly weak knees a moment to recover before she sinks back into her seat.

"Ho-oooohhhh-leee hellfire," she breathes, watching you talk to the barman. She couldn't tell who had won that intense exchange and decides it was a draw. Definitely not a casual conversation. And definitely a VERY beautiful woman, she thinks as you return. She simply slides over, letting you take her seat this time.

She doesn't exactly trust herself to stand right now. And she doesn't trust you to make that situation any easier when you sit down either. Although she's facing the other way now, she pulls her leg up into the same position. You turn your body to face her, crossing your ankles, letting your knees brush against hers.

"So you said you have a better way to drink this," she says, shifting the shooter glasses in front of you both. Your hand takes hers and tingles explode across her skin, causing her to inhale sharply and look up to see if you felt it too. From the expression on your face, she'd say you did. You pick up the salt shaker and turn her hand sideways.

You

"It's almost exactly the same," you say. "Only you exchange hands."

"Exchange hands?" she asks hesitantly. You keep your eyes on hers, tilt your head forward and bring her hand up to your mouth. Your tongue darts to wet the skin between her thumb and index finger before you shake some salt onto it.

"Exchange hands," you repeat.

"Oh," she inhales a slow deep breath and you're pleased to see that the rosy flush is back.

"Your turn," you murmur, handing her the salt shaker. She holds it for a moment, not quite sure.

"Ohhh," the word is a soft realisation. She reaches for your free hand with hers and the smile she gives you is somehow both provocative and guileless. Her head bends forward and the lap of her tongue against your hand sends a frisson of heat shooting up your arm before spreading through you and pooling...lower. She shakes salt onto the wet patch and you both pick up your shooter glasses.

"Cheers," you say softly, clinking your glasses together while you stare into her eyes. Your heads bend in unison, you feel her tongue echoing yours when you lick the salt from her hand, that same frisson of heat. You don't let go of her hand when you swallow the tequila or reach for the lemon, keeping it cradled in yours, your thumb brushing her palm. She holds her lemon in her hand, not moving. Only watching your thumb as it moves.

"You're right, your way is much better than mine," her voice is breathless, her breathing shallow when she drags her eyes to yours.

"That it is," you agree. You lift her hand to your mouth, press your lips to her palm in a lingering kiss before laying it back in her lap. "The barman told me that they're going to be closing soon." She looks around, seems to notice for the first time that there are only a couple of other patrons besides the two of you. You watch the disappointment flicker in her eyes.

Maybe she'd like this evening to continue as much as you would. You tilt your head towards the elevators. "I have a room...?" you leave the sentence hanging, making it a question. You keep your voice neutral, no censure, no pressure. Just a simple invitation if she wants it to be.

Her gaze follows yours. Her smile only a little uncertain. "So do I."

Your answering laugh is light and warm and soft, wrapping around you both, the sounds of the bar disappearing until it's just the two of you in this moment. "The benefits of travelling on the company dime. Mine is a suite," you pause, your voice drops, "with a queen-size bed."

Her smile turns attractively shy and she inhales deeply. She nibbles on the corner of her bottom lip, head tilted to the side as she thinks about your offer. You're holding your breath, hoping. But don't make a move of any kind. The choice must be hers.

"Then lead the way," she finally responds quietly. You can't stop the grin that spreads across your face.

"Wonderful."

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Chapter 4 ~ Maybe Not So Casual

Her

Jesus. Not a casual conversation anymore. The litany repeats in her head while she packs her things into her shoulder bag. She moves slowly. She can feel the flutter of nerves in her stomach. She looks up at you standing beside the table. Okay, not just nerves she admits when a tendril of heat curls around the fluttering. You hold out your hand.

She looks at it, looks at you. Her eyes close for a moment and she takes a deep breath she hopes you don't see, then puts her hand in yours. Jesus. The fluttering turns into a raging storm and she's not sure her legs will support her. But they do. You keep hold of her hand as she slings her bag over her shoulder and follows you to the elevator.

Are you afraid that she'll run off if you do? Probably a wise decision. Because if it weren't for the heat of your palm against hers, grounding her, holding her in place at your side - she probably would have made her excuses and scurried to her own room.

And regretted it as soon as she left because the ache of wanting would only have worsened as the night passed. And she would have gotten no sleep. Even if she'd decided to try to relieve the ache by herself.

The elevators doors open and you step inside, press the button for your floor. The flutters are still raging and she feels how shallow her breathing is. She's going to pass out. Oh god. This is a bad idea. What is she doing? How does she - the tumble of questions almost drowns out the sound of your voice.

"Hey," you say quietly, lifting her hand and pressing a kiss to the knuckles before releasing it. "We can say goodnight here if you prefer." The kiss tingles against her knuckles. Yet somehow those tingles are as calming and gentle as your voice. She looks up at you, eyes wide.

She wants this. Wants you. She shifts a little closer to your side, lets her hand slide down the inside of your arm before it slips back into yours.

"I know." That quick deep breath again. "I don't want to."

You

Jesus. She's going to be the death of me, you think. The elevator doors open and you walk down the hall to the door of your room, her hand still in yours. You stop, pull out your key card and show it to her. "I'm going to be honest with you," you say quietly, "we can say goodnight right here if you want to." You indicate the door.

"But once I open that, once I have you inside."

You pause, lift her chin so her eyes meet yours. "Conversation is not what I have in mind." You let the heat that you've been tamping down all night blaze to life in your eyes, infuse your voice and turn it low and smoky.

Her eyes close, her fingers tighten on yours. For support against weak knees, you realise when she plucks the card from your fingers and slides it into the slot. She steps around in front of you, her hand on the door handle behind her back. She pushes it open, steps back over the threshold.

"Me neither."

Now it's you fighting weak knees as you follow her through the door, still keeping hold of her hand. She's been nibbling on and biting her lip all the way from the bar and it is bruised, invitingly swollen. You close the door, tug her gently against you. She stumbles a little, not having expected that and her hands find your hips, bracing herself against you.

"Well hello, Sunshine," you whisper. "I've been wanting to do this ever since I walked into the bar and saw you, and your cute little ass, leaning over it." Your head bends and you press your lips oh so gently against hers. You move slowly, gently exploring the fit of her mouth against yours. Sipping kisses of that deliciously plump bottom lip, a soothing swipe of your tongue before you pull away.

Her eyes are closed, she's leaning into you and you can feel where every inch of her is touching you. She exhales softly, opens her eyes. You're drowning in those brilliant aquamarine pools and you don't care.

Her smile is slow, languorous. A flirt of sensuality that has you wanting more.

Her

I'm on fire she thinks. I'm going to disappear into cinders in the wind and it is all this woman's fault. And I don't mind one little bit. She smiles, leans back to meet the emerald gaze looking down at her. She can feel it tracing the lines of her face, resting on her lips, and her smile widens. She remembers something then.

"Sunshine?" she asks. She sees you blank for a moment and sees when you remember.

"You might have not realised it, but we sort of skipped over the introduction part of the evening. It's what you called the barman earlier," your fingers move to her face, curling one of those wisps she normally hates around them. "You also have sunshine in your hair." Your hand trails down the side of her neck, to the hollow at the base of her throat, strokes gently. "And sunshine in your voice." You feel her swallow.

"Oh," she sighs. It's all she can manage. She swallows again. "My name is -," you interrupt her.

"No." Your fingers cover her lips. "If you don't mind...I prefer Sunshine." You kiss her gently and she can feel herself melting into you again. "Besides, names make this...real. Too real maybe. And I'm enjoying this fantasy too much to let it end."

"Ohhh," her sigh is soft against your lips when she raises herself up to kiss you. "I like it," she whispers before stepping back. "But I like us getting out of this entryway even more."

Your laughter joins hers but you don't let go of her, your hands moving to curl around her hips, pressing quick kisses to her lips between words, walking her back through the sitting room and in the direction of the bed located through a second doorway.

"I think I like that plan more than a little bit." Your voice drops, "Although taking you against the door would be just as hot." She feels the back of her legs meet the bed, but her hands are in your hair, pulling your face down to hers, her mouth covering yours and she's drinking in the taste of you.

The tang of the sweet vermouth from your Manhattan, the warmth of the bourbon and through it all, the sweet taste of cherries.

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Chapter 5 ~ Relieving The Pressure

You

"Maybe later," she whispers and your knees almost buckle with the thought. You kiss your way along her mouth, to her jaw and down her neck, your hands slipping under her shirt and raising it in a slow glide while you kiss your way back to her mouth. Then her fingers are undoing the buttons on your blouse and she's kissing a line down your chest as each one pops open, and you can't think.

Just revelling in the feel of her soft lips, her slightly shaking fingers popping buttons, revealing you to her and the cool air brushing over your too hot skin.

"Jesus," you hiss. The last button is undone and she leans back to take you in. Hands sliding over your shoulders to push the shirt off, trailing a finger along your strap, following the line of the cup to the centre of your chest before she lifts her eyes to yours.

"So," she kisses you. "Damn," her voice is low. "Beautiful." You finally pull her shirt over the top of her head and now it's your turn to stare. Her breasts are small but full, giving her just a hint of cleavage. The perfect size for a woman's hands, you think as you move to cup them, your thumbs brushing over the nipples still hidden beneath silky black material.

She gasps, her hands flying to cover yours and you do it again, smiling at the shudder it elicits. You slide your hands round to her back, unclasp her bra and let it fall to the floor. Her skin is not quite olive, not quite mocha. Warm honey, you think. And sun-kissed, of course. You bend your head to kiss the untanned line over her shoulder before kissing your way back up to her mouth.

"Yes," you agree. There's laughter in your voice when your hands reach for her belt, slipping it lose. You pause with your fingers on the clasp of her jeans. "I thought everybody tanned nude these days?" The flush painting the swell of her breasts, the tops of her shoulders and her cheeks darkens.

"People who tan nude are insane," she manages to say. You've undone her button and slipped your hand into her pants, cupping her through the material of her panties. Your fingers flex, the tips pressing against the damp spot you can feel and you hum softly, taking her mouth with yours in a slow drugging kiss while you slide the jeans down over her hips.

She toes off her boots and steps out of them, all without breaking the kiss and you're more than a little impressed. She laughs at your look. "Practice," she mutters. "I walk in the door, usually with hands full and start stripping immediately."

"Good for me," you laugh in return and then your breath catches, your eyes roving down over the narrow waist and the flare of hips, the lean legs and the hint of curls covering the heaven at their apex. You skim your hands over her ribcage, over her back, her hips, her butt, feeling the play of muscles under her skin as she lifts herself onto her toes and wraps her arms around your neck.

"You're so beautiful," you whisper and claim her mouth again.

Her

She slips her fingers into your hair, the cool silken strands tumbling over her fingers belying their fiery shade. She presses against you, feeling the material of your skirt and bra scratch against her sensitive skin and emits a disapproving sound.

She unzips the skirt, lets it slip to the floor and leaves you to push the lacy thong over your hips because her hands are already reaching to unclasp your bra. Your breasts spill free, full and round and delicious and she cups them, kneading gently. She barely has to bend her head to take your nipple in her mouth and she hums when she does, her tongue lazily circling the pebbled peak.

She feels how your skin jumps and reacts under her hands as they trail restlessly over your stomach and back to cup your breasts, watches how your nipple hardens even further under the ministrations of her tongue and her fingers. And then you're lifting her, only long enough to lay her on the bed, your hands under her back and your thigh between her legs moving her higher.

She almost sobs when your thigh moves away and she can feel the cool air of the room between her legs. She reaches for you, for your warmth, for the heat of you pressed to the heat at her core and then you're covering her with your body and she sighs softly in your ear.

"Cherry."

She feels you pause. "Cherry?" the question is a husky whisper and she's sure it's because your throat is as thick with feeling as hers is. She flushes again, and this time you kiss the flaming line it paints across her cheek and for a moment she can't breathe from the emotions welling in her.

Your arms are under her shoulders, your hands framing her head, your fingers tangled in the curls that she doesn't remember you freeing but is glad you did because it makes her feel as wild and free and uninhibited as a sea nymph, which is how she wants to feel with you. No holding back, no second-guessing, no wondering if this is a bad idea.

"Cherry," she nods almost shyly. "You said no names but I need something to call you when I remember this night. When I remember you." She brushes your lips with the tip of a finger and smiles. "And you taste like cherries." She raises her head from the bed to taste you again, giving a satisfied hum when she feels you smile against her lips.

"Then Cherry I am."

You

Her fingers are trailing over your back, exploring the line of your spine, the dimples at its base, the curve of your butt. Tendrils of desire spiral out from everywhere her fingers touch, pooling low in your stomach and you're throbbing with want when you lean your head down to explore her mouth once more.

She's shifting restlessly against you and you know she must be aching just as much as you but you keep your hands in her hair, simply rocking gently into her while you ravish her mouth. Her hands are moving more restlessly now, fingers digging a little into the same muscles they traced gently before.

They move to grasp your butt and she pulls you against her as her hips strain towards you. Your body is pressing her into the bed, positioned just so that she can't move to get the relief she obviously so desperately wants. Neither can you, but the waiting is worth it.

"Oh Cherry please," she gasps. "Please." Her eyes open and she gives you a pleading look made utterly enticing by her kiss swollen lips and the flush of desire evident on her face. "Please Cherry...I need you." You nip at her still bruised bottom lip, distracting her from how you've shifted your body. Your fingers brush over her stomach and she gasps a yesss, her legs falling open.

Your mouth moves to her breast, tongue tracing the edges of those tempting pale triangles, circling but not quite touching the sensitive nipple. Your fingers barely graze the folds between her legs and she gasps again, opening them further. You tease with light touches and she jerks each time you do, soft breathy moans that drive you wild. Your teeth graze the swell and the curve of her breasts, first one and then the other getting the attention of your mouth. But not the attention she's craving.

It's torture for her, but for you as well because all you want -

"Please," it's a broken whisper. Finally. You slip your fingers between her folds, she's so wet and you groan as you draw her nipple into her mouth, finding her clit and pressing hard, rolling it under your fingers.

"Oh!" her cry is sharp and her eyes fly open and her hands are in your hair, holding your mouth against her. "I can't...Cherry, wait...Stop...I can't...Oh god!!" she cries out and arches into you. You feel her coming apart, how her muscles tense up and hold her bowed and she's shuddering against you while your fingers circle her clit, gentling with each touch.

Finally, her muscles release her and she sinks back to the bed with her eyes closed, breathing hard. She shakes her head and you see a drop of moisture trailing from the corner of her eye into her hair. "I'm sorry." You catch the tear with your thumb.

"Why are you crying silly girl?" you murmur with a soft kiss. Her eyes open and they're shining with unshed tears, she shakes her head again.

"Because that was...I've never felt...wow," she breathes. Her eyes widen suddenly. "No wait!" there's guilt in her voice and a little anger too. "You were supposed to stop! You weren't supposed to...I wanted us...," her voices trails off. "What about you?" she asks softly.

Your laugh is light, your voice gentle, "Oh Sunshine, you didn't think that was the end did you? That was just to take the edge off. Because my plans for you involve a whole lot more of touching and kissing and exploring and tasting and more. And I didn't want you dying from the unrelieved pressure." You can't resist another kiss. "And watching you come apart was more than enough pleasure for me."

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Chapter 6 ~ They Blaze

Her

"Oh," she says a little breathlessly, pleased. And then her grin turns wicked. "I hope you don't have any important early morning plans. Because I don't plan on letting you sleep any time soon...if at all." She loves the sound of your laugh.

Still as warm as the first time she heard it, warmer maybe. And still drawing her in. She raises her head to kiss you. She can't get enough of the taste of your mouth. "Thank you," she says simply when you look at her inquisitive.