Readers

Hey guys!

I was in a hell of an accident 10 days ago, and it's turned my life upside down, but I'm coping. I'm currently trying to figure out how to write again. Please be patient.

Xoxo,
Summer

Chapter 12

They faced each other, Richie half reclined, his bare knee touching hers. She sat nude and upright, only partially exposed because her knees were high. Richie had the sheets bunched around his waist and his tanned legs protruded from the downy mass. Sitoë’s lips closed around the ripe, fleshy berry Richie held to her mouth, savoring the taste of cream before biting down. The juices reddened her lips tantalizingly and Richie reached out for a taste of her and the fruit. They’d been holed up in the hotel room all morning and he still hadn’t had enough.

“This was a great idea,” he teased, a big hand resting on her calf.

“I agree,” she said smilingly, a giggle escaping as he traced pretty patterns on her thigh with cream then lapped them away. 

Sitoë tucked her hair behind her ear and peered out of the window at a spectacular view of Place Bellecour. “You are telling me Jon has no idea where you are?”

“Oui, ma cherie,” he answered with a bad accent. 

“Practicing?” Her cornflower eyes sparkled with mirth. 

“Always, Si,” Richie replied, biting into another strawberry and propping himself up on one arm. 

“Why do you call me Si?” She was genuinely curious. A moniker like hers never lent itself to nicknames. 

“Because I needed a name just for you and Toto is a puppy,” he joked. 

“I do not have a nickname for you.”

“When you say my name, it sounds good. Like,” Richie paused to swipe cream over her kneecap, lick it off, then make eye contact, “really damned good.” His eyes smoldered and her cheeks flushed. 

“It is the accent,” she demurred. 

“Yeah, you put a little purr in it. Makes me want to toss you over my shoulder and have my way with you.” 

“It seems like I have carted you off. Jon will think I have kidnapped you.” Though she said it breezily, the truth was she was worried about the repercussions.  

“Well, I’ll tell Jon where to stick it and we can make love all weekend.”

She studied him closely. “If you say so.” To say she was skeptical would have been an understatement.

“Come here,” he commanded, curling a hand around her nape and pulling her forward. What began as sweet, slow, and indulgent ended as eager, nostrils flaring as they struggled for air. 

“You need to come with me,” Richie murmured. It was a mumble, but it was decisive. 

Sitoë refused to open her eyes, her only defense against him. She shook her head lightly though he still had a hold on her.

“That is not how this works.” 

“How does it work? I don’t want to be without you.” His cocoa eyes searched her face for any reaction, but her expression was unreadable. 

“You visit. We don’t have a relationship.” If she said it enough, she would believe it herself. 

“What if I told you I want one?” His fingers slid up into her hair, unconsciously placing pressure on her scalp. 

“I would say you will change your mind. You do not want me. You do not know me.” Her desperate statement rushed out on a single breath.

“I want to get to know you.” His nose bumped hers, his eyes not wavering. 

“You have known me.”

“Biblically,” he retorted wryly. “I want more.” 

“You do?” Sitoë’s voice broke. 

“Yeah, I came back for a reason. I care about you, Sitoë. I don’t want to let you go now that I’ve found you again.” 

She found her resolve faltering at the soft spoken words that had conviction. 

“I do not have another job for two weeks...”

“Then come with me. Be with me.” There was sincerity in his looks.

“If I need to come home, will you let me go? And not question me?” She knew what would come eventually. 

“I can try.” 

“No, promise.”

“You’ll hate me if I make a promise I can’t keep. The best I can do is promise to try. Okay?”

“Okay,” she conceded gracefully. 

“I got my girl coming on tour. Miracles do happen.” He dropped a fleeting kiss on her lips. 

“I am your girl...”

“Was that a question or a statement? You are my girl. Now, it’s time to make love to my very special, very beautiful girl.”

“Richie,” she laughed as his stubbly jaw scraped the smooth skin of her neck. Her giggles morphed into moans as Richie’s famed lips covered hers.

______________________

They enjoyed a quiet moment after they were seated on the train. He held her hand openly, a serene smile lighting her face in response. A kiss that would normally have been tinged with sorrow reaffirmed the resolve Richie had made in their sunbathed Lyon suite instead.

______________________

The ride went quickly, both falling asleep and waking in Paris. Richie continued to glance at his watch frequently in the duration of the ride from the station to home. Richie stepped out of the car, opening Sitoë’s door and offering his hand. She took it and shook out her blonde locks, happy to be in familiar territory. The driver removed the bags and they turned towards the house. An impetuous rockstar in stood in front of her door, clearly waiting for their return.   

“See, I can sneak away too,” was his snarky greeting. “Where the hell have you been, Richie, and when the fuck were you planning on returning?” 

“Jon, calm down. Will you let us get inside?” 

“No, I’m going to let you get your shit into that fucking car down there and we’re going to go.” He crossed his arms and squared his shoulders in an attempt to look more intimidating. 

“I’m not a child. I wanted a weekend with my lady so I left.”

“Without telling anyone where you were going!” His eyes were shooting daggers from behind his aviators.

“Step aside.” Richie had had enough of his attitude. His always smiling mouth was a grim line. For once, Jon took an order instead of giving it much to Richie’s well-hidden satisfaction. 

He opened the door and lifted the bags in the foyer.

“Jon,” Sitoë acknowledged without animosity. She followed Richie into the house.   

“Sitoë.” She had guts. He liked that. Richie’s soft heart would need it. 

Chapter 11

Sitoë was hot, extremely hot. She opened her eyes to find a human heat source and smiled. They were entangled on her canopy bed that was fit for a palace. Sitoë’s grin brightened before she kissed his chest, mumbling a morning greeting against the always warm skin. He rumbled in reply underneath her lips, a lazy, carefree smirk lighting his face. 

Richie threaded his fingers through her long blonde hair, bringing her up for a slow kiss. The lazy meeting of mouths coiled lust low in his belly and her soft hands sliding along his jaw made him burn. 

“I do not want to share you with the world today.” Sitoë divulged sleepily. 

“Then you won’t have to,” he replied, hooking her thigh over his hip.

He slid into her as a natural extension of their intimacy, their lips locking once he was sunk inside of her grasping warmth. Richie tucked a series of blonde waves behind her ear then splayed his hand on her butt to jam them together completely. The position didn’t allow for much variation in his thrusts, but for slow, soul scouring rolls. 

One of Sitoë’s hands gripped at mid back while the other grasped at his shoulder. Completion wasn’t long off and they remained so close in consciousness and body neither could tell where the other began. Richie busied himself with kissing her when the euphoria settled to something manageable, pulling away when she tensed.

“What’s wrong?” He brushed her hair away from her face tenderly, his eyes piercing hers as she groaned.  

“I have to be on a train in two hours and I forgot.” Sitoë tried valiantly not to panic.

“Okay, to where?” Richie asked, his voice serene. 

“Lyon. I have to take pictures for an article.” She levered herself up on one arm, the sheet falling to her waist. 

“So we make a day out of it.” He stroked her arm unhurriedly, never breaking eye contact though the perky, rounded globes of her breasts were within view. 

“I cannot cover all of it in a day. I had planned to spend the weekend.” She pushed a hand through her tangled hair frustratedly, wondering where her head had been. 

“We can do that,” he declared, interrupting her rumination. Sitoë turned to face him, lowering herself back to the mattress.  

“Do you not have a show?” She propped her head up on her hand while the other.

“Tomorrow night.” 

“You need clothes,” Sitoë pointed out, resting her free hand on his chest. 

“Shit, I do. Will we have time?” 

“Yes, but I do not know why you bother. You seem to end up here,” she teased though her eyes were serious.  

“I do, don’t I?” Richie asked rhetorically, his fingers sliding upwards to massage her scalp. He raised her hand to his lips, kissing her fingertips. He scraped over the pads with his teeth, smiling when her ruby lips parted. She bit on the bottom one and squirmed. 

“Richie...”

“Hmmm?” he hummed around her index finger. 

“We have to go.”

“Five minutes?” 

“No! You’re insatiable.” She freed her hand from his clasp.

“Always, baby.” 

“We shower, we dress, we pass by the hotel, and we go straight to the train.” Her business-like voice made him smile.

“Little Corporal.” Sitoë glared and slid her tiny feet to the floor beside the bed. She was so short the lower half of her body was shielded by the mattress and frame. Her hair covered the majority of what remained.

_____________________________________

Richie and Sitoë walked past suited doormen hand in hand as they entered the Hôtel Ritz. Richie kept his head down, saying a quiet thank you, and Sitoë smiled graciously. Sitoë mused, wondering if he knew his presence was larger than life. They drew no curious stares in the lobby, and Richie calmed visibly. 

“If it makes you so uneasy, why do you do it?” Sitoë enquired softly when they were in the lift. 

“Because in the end it’s worth it. If I played to no one I’d still love music, but it feels better when you can tell you’ve had an impact.” They walked hastily down the hall, Richie tightening his grip on her hand. 

“And it is worth having no privacy?”

“Necessary evil. If Jon were here, chances are we would have had to gone through the kitchen.”

Her skin prickled at the thought of having cameras trained on him constantly. She smoothed her thumb over the top of his hand as they sped into the bedroom of the suite. The gesture relaxed him. He was grateful he hadn’t unpacked.

Sitoë was able to sort out his ticket with a minimum of fuss due to the time of day their departure was. They were on the train in record time, Richie trying to stay inconspicuous though the car wasn’t crowded. 

They talked for the entire two hour train ride without a single lull in the conversation. Somewhere within the second hour, Richie was reminded how easily he could fall in love with her. Something tugged at him whenever she turned any fraction of the power of those blue eyes on him. 

Just as his eyes closed, the train came to a halt and they were on their way in the late afternoon sunshine. Sitoë received a raised eyebrow from the Le Royal’s desk clerk as they checked in, Richie’s appearance and possessive hand on her back drawing the clerk’s gaze. 

___________________________

Richie flopped unceremoniously on the bed, his still booted feet hanging off of the edge. Sitoë tugged them off before maneuvering herself into a comfortable position next to him. 

“Do you want to change?”

“Yeah, but I’m too lazy to move. Let’s just lay here.” 

“Richie, you realize you will have to let me work while we’re here, correct?”

“Do I have to?”

“Yes or I’ll call and tell Jon where you are.” He sat up at that.

“You wouldn’t.”

“I would.”

“Evil woman.” He had her pinned underneath him and engaged in a kiss before she could blink.

“You cannot kiss evil away.”

He wiggled his eyebrows and replied, “I can try.”

“You are welcome to try a bit harder,” Sitoë teased as she wrapped a leg around his waist. 

They surfaced for food and exploration as the sun was beginning to set. Sitoë and Richie braved the streets of Lyon, strolling hand in hand again, and Sitoë felt like they were a regular couple. It was a feeling she could become accustomed to and grow to love. 

The streets were busy as the residents prepared for the Festival of Lights and early tourists searched for first glimpses. Tests created myriads of lights in the streets, but nothing would compare to the full effect, Sitoë explained as she snapped away with her Nikon. 

Richie was mumbling something under his breath as they took in the sometimes darkened, sometimes illuminated scenery. Her questing eyes and smile struck him. A wave of emotion that she tended to inspire welled up in him whenever she granted him the pleasure of seeing her smile. She turned the same cerulean eyes to the rapidly waning sun, squeezing his hand. 

“What are you saying?” She turned to face him again when she finished capturing another photograph, and her blonde locks whipped behind her in the freezing wind. 

“Blow, blow, thou winter wind 

Thou art not so unkind 

As man's ingratitude; 

Thy tooth is not so keen, 

Because thou art not seen, 

Although thy breath be rude.” 

“Shakespeare?” 

“Freeze, freeze thou bitter sky, 

That does not bite so nigh 

As benefits forgot: 

Though thou the waters warp, 

Thy sting is not so sharp 

As a friend remembered not.” 

“What made you remember that, Richie?”

“The wind. All of this beauty. You.” He tugged on her hand as he came to a halt, standing in the middle of the square in front of the Basilica de Fourvière. Richie enfolded Sitoë’s little frame in his embrace, lowering his face to give her a warming kiss in the cold December night.

Chapter 10

“Richie,” Sitoë murmured sleepily against his shoulder, legs still wrapped around him. 

“Yeah, Si?” His hand continued to smooth over her cooling, bare back underneath the heavy blonde hair.

“Do not,” she paused for strength, “do not hurt me again.” Her voice was so small and childish while trying to be firm his heart clenched. 

“I won’t.” His hand stilled as he kissed a milk white shoulder.

“Thank you,” she whispered breathily as she pressed a kiss to his jaw.

Richie refrained from saying “Thank you,” but he knew he should express it somehow.

___________________________________

Sitoë sat up, her thick, flaxen, bed mussed waves spilling over her shoulders and swinging to cover her breasts. She felt a moment of choking panic as the otherwise empty bed invaded her senses. Her eyes surveyed the room and stopped at the glowing red tip of a cigarette beyond French windows that led to a small balcony. Sitoë swung her legs over the edge of the bed, soreness a sweet reminder of her caving earlier. 


The trusty blue robe was draped neatly over a golden armchair and a smile came unbidden to her lips. She slipped it on and tied it loosely. Sitoë padded across the bedroom, opened the door, and allowed the cool air to wash over her before stepping out. 

“You’re up.” Warm brown eyes flickered over her, a sharp contrast to the whipping winter wind.

He coiled a tattooed arm around her as she moved closer, flicking ash off of the end of his cigarette. Richie offered it to her and she waved it away. He took one last drag then extinguished it in the ornate, empty ashtray that was fixed to the railing. Once the cigarette was gone, she wrapped both arms around his middle and looked up at him. 


Richie kissed her slowly, her taste masking the cigarette flavor. He tucked her head into his chest after they parted. Her tiny hands heated his cool, dry skin though goosebumps were rising for a different reason. Sitoë shivered in the darkness though he felt like a furnace to her. 

“Come back to bed,” she coaxed, “it is warmer there.”

“Can we look at the stars for a second?” Stars were the last thing on both of their minds as he peeled her arms from him and turned her around. He locked her in an even tighter embrace and she melted into the fortification of flesh behind her. With a sigh, she took in the cloudless, clear, luminous night sky distractedly. 


Richie kissed the top of her head, nudging her hair over one shoulder. His arms went under hers instead of covering them, and their hands interlaced. Richie’s lips traveled down her neck, not able to resist the overwhelming desire to mark her. His hands meandered to her hips slowly, taking their time to caress every inch in between. 


One lit on the soft skin of her thigh, her nerve endings energized and receptive to his touch. Her breath hitched as his fingertips danced higher, her head coming to rest on a pectoral. 

“I like this.” Richie fingered the smooth, azure material. His hand went underneath the edge and found her core unerringly. Richie swiped a finger through her wetness, stopping to flick her clit. “I like it better off.” 


With that, he jerked the tie keeping it closed, the material swishing open as a frigid, hard breeze passed. 

His thumb rasped over a rosy nipple, hardened by arousal and cold. He trailed the hand down the valley between her breasts and allowed it to venture lower. Richie stopped short of his target, rubbing slow circles on her hip while his other hand reached up to palm her breast. 


His name came out on a sigh and he plunged two fingers inside her, her sharp cry musical. He curled them and Sitoë’s body was torn between arching off of or pressing down on the hand. A light across the way flared on while all of the other windows on the Parisian street remained darkened. The devious glint in his eye glimmered though she couldn’t see it. There was something delicious about risk.

“Shh,” he whispered, his breath tickling her ear before he laid another sucking kiss on her neck. 

She turned her head, sightlessly seeking a silencing kiss. Richie obliged, swallowing her breathy moans. Sitoë wrapped a hand into his product free hair, tugging as her orgasm swept through her, wracking her tiny body. She tore her mouth away from his, breathing heavily as her knees shook. 

“Still cold?” He licked his fingers as she watched through hooded eyes. 

“Huh?” she questioned dazedly. 

“Let’s get you to bed.” Richie hoisted her up, not bothering to close the robe. He halted his progress to kiss a magnificent breast crowned by an upstanding nipple, her low cry signaling her pleasure. They made love throughout the night, no room in the house immune. 

__________________________________________

“Richie,” she croaked, her voice hoarse, as she stroked his hair. The gentle motion, previous exertion, and her warmth had him drowsy. He raised his head off of her stomach lazily, watching her through slitted eyes. 

“When did you know you had to come back?” He dropped onto his back. Her hesitant tone had forewarned him of difficult questions.

 “When I started seeing you in everyone and everything.” Richie spared her the details. Once the bed partners who looked like you got tired of me calling your name. Once I started hearing your laugh in every note I played. Sitoë’s eyes drifted closed with the honesty. 

“Okay.” She rolled over and draped an arm across his waist while he enfolded her with his. There was a sweet brush of lips over his shoulder then rhythmic breathing as she faded into sleep.

Chapter 9

They strolled home hand in hand, a tense silence between them. When the awkwardness became overbearing, Sitoë asked a simple question. “Where is the band?”

“Still in Spain.” He glanced at the diminutive figure beside him, his eyes running over her face lovingly. 

“And why are you here?” The clear bright eyes were seeing through him again.

“For you.” Sitoë beamed up at him before schooling her expression then hiding her face.  They ambled on.

“Are you hungry?”

“A little. I sort of left in a hurry.” His expression was slightly sheepish, and she grinned.

“As always.” 

“I’m a big guy, you can’t hold it against me.”

“I could...”

“Open the door, short stuff!” 

“Now is that any way to talk to me? You are lucky I am not the type to poison.”

“I’m so scared!” He threw his gloved hands up, shaking them in mock horror.

Sitoë shook her head with a smile as she unlocked the door, her hand seizing as she realized the impact of the action. Was she ready to allow him into her home, and inevitably, her heart, again? He laid his hand on her hip, squeezing it gently. Richie saw the turmoil in her expression, her light blue eyes cloudy.

“You okay?” Richie knew she had every right to shut him out figuratively and literally, but hoped she wouldn’t.

She nodded, closed her eyes, and pushed. Sitoë stepped into the foyer, eyes still shut, and he followed, closing the door behind himself. Richie removed the leather gloves with his teeth while he studied her intently. Her eyes reopened to stare at the stained glass window at the landing as Richie removed her coat, caressing her body with his strong hands as he went. She couldn’t tell if he was doing it on purpose, and sighed involuntarily as his warm palms brushed over her sides. 

“I missed you,” he whispered against her ear.

“Then why did you not call? I was here.” She shifted her head away and to the side to look up at him, quickly glancing back down as she read the shame in his eyes.

“I don’t know,” he paused, “but I’m happy to be here now.” His stubble roughened face rasped against her neck as he coiled his arms tightly around her waist. 

“I am not even sure if you should be here. I know you never promised a thing, but it hurt.” Her arms rested along his, her hands lying over his own. 

“Can you trust me?” His voice was clear and solemn. Her mind raced as she examined the evidence. His warming touch was distracting.

“That is what I do not know.”

“I can try today. I can’t fix yesterday.” 

“I know.”

“I needed to be right here.” He rested his chin on top of her head as her body loosened at the statement. 

She turned into him, looping her arms around his waist. Richie brushed a lock of blonde hair from her forehead, then he tentatively tugged at her French braid. Sitoë smiled at his juvenile fascination with her wound hair that resembled woven gold. He undid the plait with the utmost concentration, nosing into the waves when they were released.

“It’s your hair.”

“What about my hair?”

“The ginger. You always smell like ginger. It’s your hair.”

Sitoë looked up at him, her eyes opening in bewilderment. He stroked his thumb over her chin, keeping it tilted upwards so she could receive his kiss. 

“Richie, this is trouble.”

“I don’t care.”

His tongue swept into her mouth as she allowed herself to enjoy the taste of Richie and café au lait. When she was hoisted onto her tiptoes and the kiss became hungry, she pulled away. 

“Rich... I want you, I really do. I need time to figure this out, there are consequences. I know you do not have much time.”

“I can wait.” Richie gulped after the words came out of his mouth, his erection pressing insistently on the zipper of his jeans. 

“Come.” 

“I’d like to,” he mumbled as he followed obediently, eyes wandering to her perfectly shaped ass. Richie’s eyes widened as he experienced her traditional French kitchen for the first time, his mouth slackening in awe. There’d been nice places since the beginning of the band’s crazy ascent, but something about this inspired awe. She moved around efficiently, making croque-monsieurs as he observed. The first bite was heaven to Richie, and she smiled at his expression of pure enjoyment. 

“Thank you, you sweet, sweet woman!”

“You love food.” He nodded, starting in on his second. Sitoë’s lips curved up as he closed his eyes with every bite. “Another?”

“No, darlin’, I’m stuffed. Thank you.”

“Did you sleep after the show?” She kept her hands down though she was tempted to touch the dark circles underneath his eyes. 

“A little on the plane.”

“Come.” There was that damned word again. Every step felt like condemnation for Sitoë while Richie viewed each as a step towards the right.

______________________________________________________

Once Richie was settled, Sitoë changed into her overalls in the hopes of forgetting his shirtless image. Her emotions were on a roller coaster, and they were close to derailing. She painted feverishly as he slept, violent splashes of color coating the canvas. Sitoë dropped the brush wearily, noticing the multicolored paints had flecked her skin.

 She exhaled, and set her steps towards her bathroom. She continued to ask herself why she’d put herself in the situation, the hot spray doing nothing to ease her mind. She felt the need to separate his touch from her skin, and found she wasn’t able to. Truthfully, she craved the touch that drove her mad. Sitoë moved almost silently, cursing when she remembered she hadn’t found clothes before she’d gone in. She dried her skin though her hair remained wet, and wrapped her blue robe around her.

Creeping into her bedroom soundlessly, Sitoë did her best to ignore Richie’s sleeping form as she rooted out clothes from a huge armoire. She wanted to thump herself over the head for automatically leading him towards the bedroom when there were guest rooms. The flash of annoyance came and went as his dimpled smile came into her mind’s eye. Sitoë tucked moist strands behind her ear to peer over her shoulder at him once more. 

He was resting peacefully, looking like he’d never left the year before. Her lips curled up at the corners, smiling at how cherubic his face was in sleep. The clothes were forgotten as she trekked across the room. Sitoë eased herself down onto the edge of the bed. Her tiny hand couldn’t resist the lure of that face, and it reached out to brush bangs away from his forehead. She dragged her teeth along her bottom lip as a single fingertip went down the line of his nose then lit on his mouth. A finger became a hand as she touched his neck, the muscles and tendons relaxed in repose. The broad, tanned expanse of his chest was hot to the touch as the hand explored it.

A lock of her hair tickled his nose while she was fascinated with the play of muscles underneath her palms. Ginger was floating around him, Richie realized. His coffee hued eyes opened, remaining groggy for a moment, then the warm orbs seemed to scrutinize her. He circled her wrist, tugging her forward and their lips brushed. They exchanged fluttering kisses, and Richie sat up for more leverage. One hand supported him as he deepened one such kiss. Unconsciously, she was drawn onto his lap, her arms wrapping around his neck automatically. His big hands kneaded and caressed her hips and flanks. Richie allowed his teeth to graze her neck, groaning in response to her shift and its accompanying moan. 

He wound her damp tresses around his fist and tilted his head up to kiss her. Sitoë opened her mouth with a quiet sob, and his tongue flicked against the roof of her mouth and stroked against her own. He broke the kiss as a searing, briny tear rolled down her cheek between their mouths. Nimble fingers undid the knot in the belt of the robe as he lapped at the trail of her tears. Richie nosed away the silk, baring a breast before he took a rosy nipple into his mouth. She writhed against him as his tongue worked skillfully over her breasts. Large palms that radiated heat caressed newly uncovered flesh, eliciting gasps at their attentions. 

Richie flipped Sitoë onto her back, her weight lifting from his thighs before they were molded together again. He ventured downwards, his hands and mouth busy nipping and ranging over the flawless ivory surface. Her legs fell open unconsciously as her hand found his mahogany locks while her other hand reached upwards to wrap partially around a mahogany bedpost. Sitoë sighed as his breath bathed her glistening, blushing sex. 

He draped her legs over his shoulders, then took a lingering taste. The slow licks were interspersed with hard jabs with a stiffened tongue, the sensual motion setting her on edge. Richie splayed his hands on her bottom and used them to rock her onto his talented tongue. Sitoë’s hands fisted into the cool sheets, the contrast jolting and fleeting as Richie introduced his lengthy fingers into the combustible equation, stretching and seeking until she shattered.

“I want you,” Sitoë declared shakily, her chest still heaving and her entire body flushed. Richie needed no further direction as he managed to kiss her and remove his jeans. 

Sitoë straddled him lithely, and gliding into her was his return to sanity. He held her shining cerulean gaze as they found a rhythm as unchallenging as breathing. She bit her lip as she took her own pleasure, and Richie had to fight to maintain control. He wanted her under him, but her tiny palms on his chest stopped him short. She needed control this time, and he finally comprehended the extent of the repercussions. 

Lights danced behind his eyes as he orgasmed, Sitoë following upon the first hot spurt inside of her. Richie rose to a seated position to embrace her, and her legs tightened then relaxed as she dropped her forehead onto his tawny, sweat sheened shoulder. He lulled her with slow strokes on her bare back until she stopped trembling. The ginger remained, and the void inside of him did not.