Fire and Ice, Sugar and Spice

Chapter One-The Fugitive

His hands tighten on my hips as he tugs me back down on him, his hips rising up to meet them. I moan in ecstasy when he grunts, I love it when men grunt like that. My hands are splayed on his chocolate-colored, chiseled chest to keep me steady as I bounce on him. My head is thrown back in pleasure, my long, blonde, wild, curls tickling my bare back. I finally reach my peak and he does just afterwards into a condom, his hands squeezing my hips hard enough to bruise. I don't mind the pain. It makes my pleasure last longer. Breathing heavily, I slide off him and lay beside him on the bed, allowing the dark blue sheets to wick the sweat off me. For a few moments, we just lay there trying to get our breath back. Moonlight and the lights from the city are the only things keeping the room from being completely pitch black. Not that there's much room to illuminate. This guy has a small apartment just having a bedroom and a kitchen, but it doesn't matter to me. I never spend much time in a guy's house anyway.

"Wow." He breathes and a dry chuckle falls from my lips.

"Damn straight." I respond as air finally fills my lungs adequately for me to speak. He rolls over and puts his lips on my neck and his arms snake around my waist.

"I know you said you were a twelve out of ten, but I have to admit, I didn't believe you." He whispers next to my ear, then gently bites the lobe playfully.

"You weren't too bad yourself," I tell him as I shove him away and get out of bed. Grabbing my little black dress, little black bra, and little black underwear, I put them on before turning back to him. What can I say? I like things to match. "I give you a solid eight. And trust me, that's high." He grins lazily at me and flips onto his stomach.

"If that's high then why are you putting your clothes on?" He asks with a charming, white smile that stands out starkly against his dark skin. I sit back down on the bed and Marquis takes the opportunity to once again affix his lips to my neck as I put my blood red heels on.

"Sorry. I only stay the night with nines or tens. The nines because there's always the chance the morning sex will be a ten, and the ten...well, it's pretty obvious why I'd stay with the ten." I explain and stand. My purse sits on the floor beside the door, so I start heading that way. I'm stopped by a tug on the hem of my dress. Looking down, I find Marquis's fingers pinching the fabric. My eyes lift to his caramel colored ones and he pouts. He gets a laugh out of me and earns a goodbye kiss on his plump, pouting lips. "It's not all bad. You earned my name and number, at the very least. On your bedside table." His eyes brighten at that and he releases me to turn towards the small table beside his bed. As he picks up the paper I go to the door and pick up my little silver purse.

"Hold on." Marquis calls out. I pause and glance at him over my shoulder. His long body is stretched across the bed, still completely naked, as he addresses me. And a fine body it is. "Have you ever found a ten?" He asks curiously, fingering the paper that holds my name and number. Smiling, I open the door and slip out halfway.

"Never." I answer and exit, leaving him with the memory of me and how I taste on his lips.

* * * * * *

After I exit Marquis's apartment I start walking towards a more public street. I prefer walking through throngs of people rather than by myself. It's safer. My own apartment isn't too far away anyway, not that I told Marquis that. My tall heels click on the sidewalk as I strut down the street, a calming sound to me. Reaching into my purse I pull out my dog tags and slip them over my head. The metal settles between my breasts and I sigh happily at their presence. I feel more than naked when they're off. I tighten the bow of my halter dress and turn the corner. Now, I can see the busy street ahead. New York is the city that never sleeps, after all. As I walk I notice the sound of my heels aren't the only sound of shoes hitting the sidewalk. The hair on the back of my neck stands at attention when I identify the sound as boots. I turn down the next alley I come to and sigh when I find that it's a dead end.