Molten Desire - Chapter Three

Chapter Three
 
By
Bernadette Gardner
 
By the time they reached the quiet street of converted brownstones where Paige said she lived, the sun had set, and the evening traffic had died to almost nothing. Brad’s nerves hummed with pent up frustration.
When was the other asbestos-lined boot going to drop?
Paige seemed too good to be true. A nice, normal woman with a sweet disposition and a self-deprecating sense of humor was as rare these days as a super villain without a God complex.
They’d been talking for hours while they roamed the residential streets, and she hadn’t once let on that she knew, or believed him to be, Molten Man. In fact, she seemed less than impressed by anything remotely connected to the Daring Dozen, and that intrigued him.
“Here I am,” she said, gesturing to the second floor of a post-war townhouse that sported decorative wrought iron on all the windows and a miniscule gated courtyard where the tenants stored their bicycles.
“It’s nice. Very…clean.”
She looked pensive, as if she expected him to do or say something else. How could he suggest they not end their encounter here without seeming like a pervert?
“I’ll wait here until you’re safely inside, though I don’t see any crumbling trestles or broken I-beams…”
She smirked. “Very funny. You’ve been such a gentleman all evening. I was wondering when you’d get around to ribbing me about my klutziness.”
Brad laughed and put his hands up in self-defense. “Sorry. I had to. Honestly though, I’m very impressed at your determination to keep the world safe for kittens.”
She rolled her eyes and huffed her indignation. “Don’t hold back. Let me have everything you’ve got.”
“That’s all, really. That was my best work.”
She stepped close to him, blurring the barrier between his personal space and her own. “I’m sure you can do better work than that.”
Her breath warmed his chest, and his cock stirred. There was no mistaking her invitation. “Would you like me to come up?”
“Up. Down. You name it.”
She slithered her hands under his jacket, over his chest and around the back of his neck. She had to lean up on her toes to bring her mouth even with his, and when she did, when she brushed her soft, pink lips against his, Molten Man caught fire.
 *     *     *     *     * 

The climb up to her apartment was sensual torture. Paige stripped Brad’s jacket off on the landing and wrapped her appreciative fingers around his naked biceps. His bulging muscles flexed like steel cables in her hungry grasp.
He tunneled his large hands under the hem of her blouse and pulled her close for a kiss that sent her heart racing. If other parts of his anatomy were as long and skillful as his tongue, she was in for a hell of a night.
She moaned when he slid his fingers into the waistband of her skirt and arched her back to bring her breasts against his hard chest. “Just so we’re clear,” she panted as they dragged themselves up to the second landing. “I don’t normally do this.”
“Neither do I,” he replied close to her ear then nibbled her lobe. His hot tongue trailed down her throat, and he literally bit off the top button of her blouse. “I hope this isn’t your favorite shirt, because I’m going to rip it off you.”
Pulsating heat soaked her panties at the thought. God, yes! It was her favorite blouse, but after tonight, she’d frame the remnants and buy another one just like it.
At Paige’s door, Brad stood behind her, one arm trapping her waist against the bulge in his jeans while she tapped the digits of her personal security code with trembling fingers.
The door beeped and swung open, admitting them into her apartment.
“Lights on or off?” she asked as he backed her up against the door to shut it.
“On. I want to see you naked.”
Paige hit the light switch, and Brad growled. He tore her blouse open, popping little pearl buttons in every direction. They clattered on the hardwood floor like rain.
She urged him on with wordless sounds as he dragged her thin bra straps from her shoulders and kissed every inch of the exposed skin.
When he moved his attention to her breasts, she braced her hands on his shoulders and leaned into him. He cupped one mound of flesh, then the other and sucked a taut nipple into his mouth. Paige pressed her back against the door and locked her knees to keep from sagging to the floor under the weight of her desire.
Every intimate muscle clenched when he pushed her bra down around her waist and ground his hips against hers. “This skirt has to come off. You can’t spread your legs for me—”
“Uh-huh.” She nodded, too breathless to form words. Eagerly, she guided his hands to the delicate button and zipper that held her skirt in place.
He tore them open, and the power of it arrowed to her clit. She gasped when he pushed the beige wool over her hips and down her thighs. She kicked off her skirt and her shoes, concentrating on holding her liquid muscles erect while he worked her lacy underwear off with both hands.
His work-roughened palms grazed her thighs and slid down her calves, igniting every long unused nerve ending in her body. She shuddered at the pleasure of it.
“Wrap your legs around me.”
She obeyed his command, and he lifted her and carried her to the couch. “I’m going to take you right here and now. Are you ready?”
He placed her on her back and spread her damp thighs with one hand while he opened his button fly with the other.
“I’m on the pill,” Paige whispered in a gasp as he freed an erection that brought to mind the California redwoods.
“Me, too.” These days, who wasn’t? Fortunately the Super Pill provided protection against pregnancy and communicable diseases while simultaneously freshening the breath. Who could ask for more?
“More!” Paige reached for him. “I want to see all of you.”
“Patience.” He shoved his tight jeans down his legs, kicked off his work boots and shimmied out of his briefs. He wrapped one hand around his cock and pumped a few times, long and slow, spreading a glistening drop of pre-cum along the shaft.
“Oh, my…” Paige writhed in anticipation. “Show me how that works.”
He grinned, and his green eyes smoldered. “My pleasure, ma’am.”
He lowered himself between her legs, and Paige wrapped her calves around his back. She crossed her ankles and locked her fingers behind his neck.
“You must be a lumberjack—” she panted into his ear when he thrust his length inside her. The sensation took her breath away.
“Uh…what?”
“Where else would you get all that glorious wood?”
He chuckled in her ear. “I’m not the only one with a few zingers up my sleeve, am I?”
“I’ve got a million of ’em—oh!”
“That’s it. Is that what you wanted?”
“Hmm. Give me everything you’ve got.” The rhythm of his movements matched her beating heart. He tempered each expert thrust with a gentle kiss or a firm caress. She met him movement for movement. Her orgasm built inside her until her sex throbbed with the need for release. God, he was good! All that heat between her legs, those muscles wrapped around her—who needed a superhero when there were still guys like this around?
“Now might be a good time to warn you,” he whispered, burrowing his arms beneath her to hold her close.
“Warn me about what?”
“I can last a long, long time.”
“Is that a warning or a prom…a promise?” Paige shuddered through her question as her first orgasm tore through her. Above her, Brad increased the speed and depth of his thrusts, building on the friction between them and taking her higher than she’d ever been. Her body hummed with it, milking power from his cock until she came again, then finally went limp beneath him.
“There’s more where that came from,” he said after a lingering kiss that left her weak. She used the last of her strength to dig her fingers into the taut muscles of his shoulders and hold on. “I can take it. Come on, tiger, do your best!”
And he did. Several times.
 Stay tuned for Chapter Four…
 “I do have a license to carry a concealed weapon. Shall I whip it out and show it to you?” 

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Published by: Bernadette Gardner
copyright 2015 Bernadette Gardner
Cover art by BGD
Note: This story was previously published under the title:
The Adventures of Molten Man, No. 1. (Amber Quill Press, 2006).
This is a standalone story that has not been significantly altered from its original version.
 
This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places, brands, media and events are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be confused with fact. Any resemblance to living persons or events is merely coincidence.
 
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