Extras

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This short paranormal story begins with a sentence provided by The First Line: http://www.thefirstline.com/ for their February 2012 creative exercise. The rest of the supernatural madness is all me.

“Run”

by Celia Breslin, all rights reserved.

“There are a few things you need to know about me before we start.”

Paul looked up from tightening the laces on his tennis shoes, the fierce ocean breeze snaking his dark hair around his face. “Oh yeah?”

His date’s lips curled upward in a playful grin. She dropped her jacket to the sand. Scant inches from his face, she bent over, exposing the swell of her breasts to his hungry gaze.

   Ah, Claire…a hot handful in a tight red top.

She tucked his wild strands behind his ears and raised one finger in front of his face. “I run great on sand.”

He cleared his throat, eyes plastered to her chest. “Check.”

A second finger joined the first and she pressed them to his lips. His teeth locked on, tongue swirling over her skin.

   Salt and cinnamon. Spicy girl.

She pulled away and straightened. Her pink tongue darted out to lick her fingertips.

   She tastes me there.

She waggled her two fingers. The wind gusted and her sensible exercise ponytail slapped against her neck. “I’m not afraid to work up a good sweat.”

He licked his lips, eyes flitting from those slender fingers to her trapped auburn tresses dancing in the misty, early evening air.

   Almond and honeysuckle. Bury my face in that hair.

A third finger joined the others. She touched herself, gliding those tasty digits down her neck and chest, to the hollow between her breasts.

A low growl crawled out of his throat. He straightened and advanced on her. Forget the run. He had a new plan: take her behind the boulders fronting the cliffs and ride her into ecstatic submission.

“I cheat.” Her leg kicked out, lightning quick and connected with his gut. She darted away, laughing.

He landed flat on his back on an abandoned plastic pail half buried in the sand. He sat up and rubbed his chest, a wide grin cracking his face.

   I love it when they run.

He howled, shot to his feet, and sped after her. His heart worked double time, blood surging, taut muscle expanding, legs pumping.

Her bound auburn hair danced behind her, a luscious lure. His mouth watered. He leaped the last few feet separating them, grabbed her ponytail and took her to ground.

She squealed in delight when he flipped her. Excited grey eyes flashed up at him, rapid breaths fanning his face.

   Breath like honey. Good enough to eat.

He kissed her long and hard until she writhed with need under him, wrapped her arms and legs around his powerful body, begging for more.

Only then did he pull back and still her with his hungry gaze. “There are a few things you need to know about me before we start.”

She licked her lips. “Oh yeah?” Her voice was breathy.

He ripped open her top. “One.” He fisted her ponytail and yanked her head to the side, laving her neck with his tongue. “I can’t resist red.”

She shuddered, nails digging into his back.

“Two.” He kissed a trail to her breasts, lapping at her nipples until she clutched his head and moaned. “I live for the chase.”

“Three.” He lifted his head and grinned, flashing fangs. “I like to play with my food.”

The crashing surf muffled her scream.

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