Johnny Gator by Lee Ann Sontheimer Murphy Page A

brushed over her mound and then fondled her pussy.   If he didn’t take her soon, she’d pass out or
die.   Need trumped emotion or common
sense.
    “Do
me,” Nola begged, aware she sounded like a slut, something she wasn’t and had
never been. “Oh, please, Johnny, please.”
    His
already erect dick stiffened as she guided it.   In her grasp, his cock burned, hard as a dagger.   “Oh, yes, cher , yes.”
    Johnny
plunged into her soft space and filled it to maximum capacity.   He dove deeper as the walls of her pussy
squeezed to hold him tight.   His little
noises, half moans, part groans and uncontrolled outcries, indicated he’d liked
it, so Nola repeated.   He pulled almost
out, then thrust back in and out in a way which sent
sweet, erotic sensations through Nola’s body like reengaged electricity.   The friction brought her closer to the brink,
but Johnny slowed and built toward climax with the skill of a torture master
and superb lover.   Nola lost herself in
the lovely rush of a building orgasm and intense physical pleasure. For a few
moments she knew nothing but his body in hers, and nothing else mattered.
    He
pulled out and shattered her focus.   “Now,” Johnny said in a voice hoarse with effort.   This time he went into her hard and quick,
his cock consuming all the space and impaling her.   Nola bucked against him, desperate for
release, and her hands clawed his back.   If her fingernails were long, she would’ve drawn blood but her
close-clipped nails left long red marks, temporary tattoos.   They strained together, skin to skin, flesh
against flesh, as everything hit.   They
came in a wild torrent of desire, of delight, and of delicious darkness.   Her vision dimmed at the peak and she shouted
with wordless exhilaration before they shuddered and collapsed, fulfilled and
sore.
    Awareness
returned in slow stages.   Nola sprawled
across the bed and Johnny lay beside her, belly down against the mattress.   She trailed a languid hand over his
sweat-soaked skin and he lifted his face to grin.   “That’s just the memory I wanted to make,” he
told her.
    Sated
and joyful, Nola laughed. “We’ll make plenty more,” she replied. “I guarantee.”
    He
laughed, too, at the way she mimicked his Cajun accent.
    Tomorrow,
she would convince him they could change his fate.   Right now, she wanted to enjoy the moment and
him.

Chapter Six
     
    They
returned to her grandparents’ old house. For the next two days they did little
but enjoy each other in every way possible.   They made love, they napped, they fished, and they talked.   Johnny cooked Cajun dishes, everything from
red beans and rice to a delicious crawfish étouffée .   Nola fried the fish they caught and made
biscuits but the question of what they would do and what would happen next
hovered over them like a heavy thunderstorm. On the third morning, she woke
spooned against Johnny, and for the first few moments Nola savored the deepest
contentment she had ever known.   Outside,
birds trilled and sang in the tall trees and the rich scent of honeysuckle
drifted in through the open window.
    “ Cher.”
    Something
dark in his tone eroded her pleasant mood. “What’s wrong?”
    “Nothing,”
Johnny said. “But I think if you want to call your friend or go visit, you
should.”
    The
last remnants of her drowsiness vanished. “You mean Tirzah? Then you’ve decided
we should see what possibilities might exist.”
    “ Oui.” He sounded sad.
    She
rolled over so she could see his face. “Are you okay?”
    “Yes
and no,” Johnny said. His fingers stroked the line of her cheek. “I woke up,
got to thinkin’, and decided.   Sometimes
I can control shifting, sometimes not.   I
like the way we’re livin’ and I’d hate to turn into a gator again very
soon.   I don’t know if anything can
change but I’m willin’ to try.”
    A
wave of relief came so strong her head whirled, dizzy.
“Oh, I’m glad.   I think we can