A/N Whiskey Eyes has been haunting me and his observer had more to say.

Don't forget that Twilight belongs to Stephenie Meyer but Whiskey Eyes © 2010 belongs to Obsessedmom.


He raised his eyes and met mine in bar mirror before he swiveled in his seat to face me directly. I lost any boldness that I had previously possessed and dropped my eyes to the worn surface of the bar. He spoke to me with the voice of an angel, "I have been waiting for you for a long time."


It was everything I had wanted to hear and everything I had dreaded. I bolted from the stool and ran.

I dreamed of him that night, and the next, and the next and the next. I dreamed of reaching out and running my fingers through his flaxen curls. I dreamed of trailing a finger across his brow, along his scruffy jaw, and tentatively across his lips. I dreamed of him pulling my finger into his mouth laving his tongue around and around the digit and suctioning it forcefully into the warm wet chamber of his mouth.

I dreamed of those muscular forearms wrapped around my waist his strength and masculinity surrounding me. I dreamed of the hard planes of his chest pressed tightly to my own.

I dreamed of touching every inch of his skin from the tender skin at his wrist dipping into the crease of his elbow, up and over the rise of his bicep, into the valley under his arm and through the silken hair. I would trail across his collar bone and lave the hollow there. My hands and mouth would travel over the sculpted muscles of his torso my touch raising his nipples to hardened nubs. The muscles of his abdomen would ripple and clench and relax under my careful exploration. I would dip my tongue into his navel and then I would lick and nibble and taste from one hip bone to the other as he quivered below me.

Both mine and his anticipation rising as I got closer to his sex. The slightly darker blond hairs trailing further down would lead me to his cock. Not too big and definitely not too small, but just right to provide maximum pleasure without unnecessary pain.

I dreamed of impaling myself on his cock feeling the silk over steel combination press deeply within me. I dreamed of him taking me from behind as I kneel on all fours his powerful thrusts driving into me. I dream of him hovering over me peppering my face and chest with sweet kisses as he ever so slowly brings us both to our releases. He touches those sensitive spots that send my soul reeling with the explosion of my orgasm.

The dreams are frightening satisfying and equally frustrating. I want so badly to see him again but my shyness is almost debilitating. He had said he had been waiting for me… Just what had he meant by that? I was both bewildered and curious. My fears made me want to hide while my curiosity drew me back to the place I knew he would be.

My anxiety kept me from walking through the entrance to the bar. Diagonally across the street was a coffee house with floor to ceiling windows where I could sulk and skulk. I sat at a table away from the window but where I could easily observe the coming and goings of any bar patron but not be readily visible to any passer-by.

Night after night I haunted the coffee house and each night when he entered the bar I would see him leave hours later alone and despondent. Was he hoping to see me again as much as I wanted to see him again?

Finally my desire won out over my trepidation and I stood from my table disposing of my coffee cup as I exited the shop. I had crossed the street and was only steps from the entrance to the bar when the door swung open and he stepped out into the night.

His eyes captured mine and hypnotized me. "You're here, finally," he gasped. "I thought I had lost you," he spoke softly as if he feared he would frighten me and lose me to the night once again.

I took a deep breath and stepped closer, closing the gap between us. I steeled myself to say, "I will run to you but never away again."


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