The Lost Ones Ch. 2

Hunter opened his eyes and glared at the alarm clock on his night stand. He contemplated flinging the annoying thing against the wall to shut it up, but in a moment of sanity, remembered that he'd already done that twice this month, and two dead alarm clocks was his quota for the month. Besides, for some reason his arms really did not feel like moving from their place of rest tucked under his pillow. He felt like he'd been on a three day bender, without the throbbing head. "What the hell happened to me?" he wondered.

Then he remembered. The beach, the sunset. Miranda. Two delicious, toe curling, brain frying bouts of sex. Water...

Wait a minute! This had to be a dream. There is no way in hell he'd had sex last night with a gorgeous, golden woman who'd suddenly sprouted gills. No way! The whole episode must have been a figment of his overly tired mind. He had, after all, just spent two weeks cramming for and taking final exams. And he hadn't been with a woman in at least six months. His over-tired, under-sexed brain had probably short circuited, creating his lovely mermaid.

With a groan, he rolled out of bed and darn near tripped over the pile of clothing laying on the floor beside his bed. He picked up the dirty, ragged, sand crusted shorts and tee shirt. Ugh. What a mess. Well, obviously the rolling around in the sand part of last night was real. He grabbed an old grocery store plastic bag and started shoving his clothing in. He'd take them outside and shake the sand out of them later.

A flash of white caught his eye. Warily he picked up the scrap of white cloth, his befuddled brain refusing for a moment to register what it was he was holding. It was a bra. Just as sand crusted as his own clothing. Looking around, he spotted a couple more scraps of sandy clothing sitting in a pile beside his bedroom door. A woman's dark blue shorts and a green blouse, missing the bottom two buttons. "Oh, God..." he groaned. The clothing was real, and just as he remembered it, so the woman must have been real, too. But how was that possible?

Dropping the bag and clothing on the floor, he staggered into the bathroom and flicked on the lights. He leaned over the sink and splashed several hand fulls of water on his face. As he stood up, a twinge from his back had him turning around and peering over his shoulder. His back was pretty well scratched up. With a disbelieving shake of his head, he remembered Miranda, caught in the throes of orgasm, sinking her fingernails into his back, scratching like a mad cat.

Just as he was about to flick off the bathroom light, he happened to glance out the window. There was a park across from his apartment. Well tended, it boasted lush green grass dotted with ancient oaks and maple trees and well tended flower beds. Scattered amid the trees and blossoms were benches and tables used mostly by the college students from the nearby campus. Sitting on one of the benches, staring up at the building housing his apartment, was a woman. A woman with smooth golden skin and long, burnished gold hair. Hunter stepped closer to the window, whacking his toe painfully on the base of the toilet. He barely noticed. Was it? Could it be?

It was.

Miranda.

Hunter barely took time to throw on a pair of shorts and a shirt. Unwilling to wait for the elevator, he bombed down the three flights of stairs at breakneck speed, somehow convinced that she would disappear while out of his sight. But she didn't. When he burst through the front door to the apartment building, not only was she still there, but she had crossed the street and was approaching the steps. He stood at the top and looked down at her, mouth agape.

"Hunter," she said softly.

"You're real," he breathed, walking down the steps one at a time, until he was standing before her. "I thought I'd dreamed you."

"I'm real," she assured him. "I told you I'd come back."

"You did, didn't you?" She nodded. "We have to talk." Again, she nodded. "Come on. I have some questions, and I don't want the neighbors eavesdropping on our conversation." He took her hand and led her inside the building and back up the three flights of stairs.

* * *

Once again totally alone with him, Miranda was suddenly nervous. As he threw on a pot of coffee, she wandered around the living room, looking at his things. She didn't sit down until he entered the room with two steaming cups of coffee. She took the one he offered her and sat down on the edge of his couch.

He stared into his coffee cup for a long moment, before lifting that unusual black-and-silver gaze and pinning her with it. "What are you? Some sort of mermaid?"

"That's a human term," she said, "but accurate enough. We're a primarily aquatic, amphibious species. We're capable of living on dry land, but most of us prefer living undersea."

"So, when you get wet, you can grow fins?"

"We can will various degrees of Change. Last night the tail fin wasn't necessary, but the gills were."

"Tail fin." Sounding stunned, he dropped his head into his hands.

"I know this is hard for you, Hunter. I never intended for last night to happen." He looked up and she smiled gently. She walked over to him and knelt at his feet, taking his hands in hers. "But I'm not sorry it did."

He looked down at her and returned her smile. "I'm not sorry it did, either." He caressed her face with his fingertips, a look of wonder crossing his expression. "A mermaid. Don't that just beat all." Miranda smiled up at him, pleased by his reaction. She had been dreading the possibility that this man would not be able to accept her. And for some reason she did not understand, it was very important that he accept her. It was a conundrum she would ponder later--right now she had...other things on her mind.

Miranda turned her head, pressing a kiss against the palm of his caressing hand. At the same time she began to rub his legs, stroking gently the bare flesh between his knees and the edge of his hastily donned shorts. As his body began to react, he grasped her wrists, stopping their motion. "Oh, Miranda, baby are you sure?"

"Very sure. I want you, Hunter." He released her wrists and Miranda slowly slid her hands up the leg holes of his shorts. When she encountered nothing but smooth skin, soft hair and hard male flesh, she grinned wickedly at him. "No underwear? You bad boy. You're lucky you didn't get it stuck in your zipper."

"Been there, done that," he gasped as her hand grasped him and squeezed. "Why...do you think...I wear...button flys? Oh, Miranda!" Hunter slapped his hands down over his crotch, capturing her hand against him, rubbing himself hard against her fingers. "That feels so good," he groaned.

Tugging her hands free, Miranda brushed his hands aside and went to work on the buttons of his shorts. In a moment she had them undone and was tugging them down over his buttocks. While she worked he pulled his shirt off and in short order he was lying sprawled in the chair, totally naked. She leaned back, slightly, for the first time able to get a good look at him. He was gorgeous. All smooth, tanned skin, lightly dusted with soft dark hair. Long, lean muscles. Long and thick, his manhood rose out of its nest of dark curls and lay against his belly, dark red and throbbing. Miranda ran her fingertips gently over him, thrilled by the groan even her lightest touch evoked.

Hunter watched her through slitted eyes as she explored his body and just about drove him out of his skull. Her fingers were so soft, so gentle, as if she were afraid of hurting him. She kept glancing up at him, gauging his reaction to each touch, each caress. The bore her teasing as long as humanly possible, but when she held his shaft with one hand and began fondling his balls with the other, he lunged upward and grasped her by the arms, dragging her to her feet. "Good God, woman!" he snarled, scooping her up into his arms and heading toward the bedroom.

As soon as she was settled in his arms, she reached up and claimed his lips in a soul-deep kiss. He stopped in the doorway and leaned against the frame as he plunged his tongue into her mouth, dueling with hers, thrusting and retreating. When they finally broke the kiss he set her on her feet and led her toward the bed, all the while pulling at her clothing. By the time they reached the king sized bed, she was as naked as he. With a growl, she turned him and pushed him down on the bed, determined to resume her exploration. But Hunter had had enough. With a growl of his own, he grabbed her by the arms and dragged her upward over his body until she was sitting astride him. "No more fooling around," he whispered hoarsely.

With a sexy smile, Miranda gripped his manhood and held it upright. Their eyes locked as she slid down over him, enveloping him in her warmth and moisture. Oh, he was so big, so hard, and he was practically shaking with lust. Miranda rearranged her legs under her and, balancing herself with her hands on his chest, began a slow, rhythmic ride. Hunter grasped her hips with almost bruising force, encouraging her without words to go harder, faster. Her mouth twitched teasingly as she came to a complete halt. "No," he groaned. "No, don't stop..." She pressed her fingertips against his lips, shushing his words, and then leaned down and returned his favor of the night before, taking his nipple in her mouth and sucking and nibbling at it until he was writhing on the bed feverishly. Only then did she sit back up and begin riding again.

Hunter had had enough of her teasing. With a surge he wrapped his arms around her and rolled, tucking her body neatly under his. Miranda gasped as he slipped his arms under hers and gripped her shoulders. Thus firmly held, he began to thrust hard and fast. Miranda moaned, caught on the knife's edge of pleasurable explosion. And then he stopped, frozen, and she felt climax rip through him, dragging her along with him. She wrapped her legs around his hips, locking her ankles together, holding him as tight as she could against her, inside her. They were both of them frozen for a long moment, as wave after wave of ecstasy broke over them.

And then the frenzy was gone, leaving them languid and sated in a sweaty puddle in the middle of his bed. Hunter barely had the energy to roll to the side to keep his weight from crushing her. She didn't let him get to far. The moment he was on his back, she cuddled close to his side, throwing one leg over his hips and resting her head on his chest.

Exhausted, they slept.

To Be Continued...