Seeing Red

By Jennifer Collins

There were many similarities between this fire-haired beauty and his former lover, of that he was certain even as she pinned him to the door of the hotel room right after he'd closed it in a hurry. The way she bit at his lower lip as they kissed, the haste in which she'd torn off his shirt and ran her hands all across his muscles, the full breasts that gave way to his strong, callused hands (although hers had been just slightly fuller) as he groped her from behind.

She even let out the same shaky breath as he ran his hand down her perfectly flat stomach (although hers had been tighter) and slipped his fingers into her black lace panties (hers, of course, had been of the finest Italian cloth).

He was pleased to find that this girl started moaning a lot quicker, deeply vocalizing her appreciation in a way that she had never done until she was getting towards the end. "That's it, baby," he whispered into her ear as he traced his tongue along her lobe. "I want to hear you." He didn't have to work nearly as hard before this girl was shuddering in his arms, but that was okay because after a moment, he dared to spread his palm between her legs again in a way that she'd never let him. But this girl was different, almost greedy in her need for him to make her shudder again and he was so turned on by the fact that he could that he would have started for a third time had she not whirled around so fast to face him.

Maybe it was because he was already so hot for her, his red-haired desire, that he felt nearly the same pleasure as before when she sucked his cock, only this girl was quick to sink to her knees, but what a tease, slow to peel off his underwear. (She of course, would never fall to her knees before him, she much preferred to make him lie on his back on the mattress before she would take him into her mouth). Even still, when he closed his eyes, he couldn't stop himself from recalling how deliberately she would swirl her tongue around his tip and this girl had a very similar technique to the one he remembered even though it was so long ago.

He buried his fingers in her long red tresses and he could swear that the texture of her hair was the same (although hers had been much shorter tufts the last time he'd roughly grabbed her head, trying to shove more of himself into her mouth).

She pulled him to the bed in that same no-nonsense matter, even preferring herself to ride on top at first before she let him flip them over. Again she was very vocal, through the haze of his thoughts he could hear her telling him to fuck her harder and he was happy to oblige, especially when she dug her red painted nails in his back and dragged them down (not causing quite as much pain, though).

He closed his eyes tight as he thrusted into her again and again, reveling in her gasps and whimpers and almost wishing he'd told her his name before. She matched him thrust for thrust, bucking her hips up to meet his and suddenly he found himself biting hard on his lip to keep himself from calling out "Natasha!" as he came with a fierceness that was only rivaled by the last time he'd been with her.