Read Online The Firefighter and the Virgin Princess by Jemma Harte - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Jemma Harte
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by her dressing room mirror on
Monday evening.
Princess,
You didn't leave me a phone number, but I
assume you have one so call me. Anytime.
I want to see you again. We don't have to
call it a date.
Regular Joe (See I got to the point. I
wasn't circuitous)
And he'd written his phone number along the
bottom of the paper.
Reading the note again,
she sighed deeply. He was cute. Very. But she shouldn't let him
distract her more than he had already. She'd trained all these
years to be a dancer; that was her sole focus. There was no time or
space for dating in her life, was there? Was there ?
That morning in class the director had
spoken to her, complimented her "line" in an arabesque. Her hip
wasn't stiff and her foot wasn't hurting. Maybe Joe had done
something magical to her. Or he'd simply taken her mind off it for
a while.
As she exited the stage that night she
encountered one of the lead male dancers who smiled at her, winked
and said, "Whatever you're doing, keep doing it. You look fabulous
tonight, good enough to eat, sweety."
Lily didn't know what to say to that, so she
laughed and blushed. A compliment from a gay dancer was high praise
indeed.
Maybe it had done her good to have something
other than dance to think about for once. She looked at her face in
the mirror and saw the sparkle in her eyes, the confident glow in
her cheeks. Amazing the difference he'd made after just one morning
in his company.
Reading Joe's note again, she felt a smile
play over her lips, but it was so shy she daren't look up and see
it in the mirror.
If she met him just once more it surely
couldn't do any harm. Once more.
The sex was too much for her to resist. His
body invaded her dreams, and not just those she had at night, but
those she occasionally wandered into during daylight hours too.
Chapter Six
They met three times over the next week,
always going to the same hotel, sometimes barely talking. The
meetings weren't scheduled in advance. She would just call him
suddenly and ask if he was free for an hour or so. Yeah, it was
damn sexy, kept him on his toes.
On the fourth occasion he insisted they take
a horse and carriage ride through Central Park, as if they were
tourists. She said she'd never done it, despite living more than
ten years in the city. There wasn't much, it seemed, that she had
done there apart from dance.
"I don't want you to get all panicky," he
told her somberly. "This ain't a date. I know it seems romantic,
but don't get any mushy ideas."
She looked at him, one eyebrow arched. "Oh,
I won't."
It was a cold afternoon, the air crisp and
brittle, and they huddled together under a plaid blanket as the
carriage rolled through the shimmering, frosty winter park.
"Didn't you find your gloves?" she
asked.
"Nah." He grabbed her hands under the
blanket. "You'll have to keep them warm for me."
It was two days since he'd seen her and he'd
missed her. It made his voice husky, the desire to touch her almost
overwhelming. Her skin was so soft and dewy, her blue eyes inky
that afternoon, dark and heavy.
When she said, "Let's go to the hotel now
and get warm properly," he didn't argue.
Planning ahead for a change, he always
brought condoms with him now.
They barely got the door shut before they
were pulling their clothes off, dropping underwear and stepping out
of it as they kissed and touched like two horny teenagers. They
showered together and fucked in a mad, desperate coupling against
the wet, soapy tiles, as if they were starved for each other. Joe
lifted her onto his cock and she wrapped her legs around his waist,
gasping, her face turned up to the stream of water. His balls
tingled with the need to empty and his shaft thrust hard up into
her. He licked and suckled her tits until they were scarlet and
firmly peaked. God, he'd dreamed of having her all day, his body
restless to lay with her again. Sometimes he broke out in a sweat
when he thought about her. It was an addiction.
"Fuck my ass,"
Monday evening.
Princess,
You didn't leave me a phone number, but I
assume you have one so call me. Anytime.
I want to see you again. We don't have to
call it a date.
Regular Joe (See I got to the point. I
wasn't circuitous)
And he'd written his phone number along the
bottom of the paper.
Reading the note again,
she sighed deeply. He was cute. Very. But she shouldn't let him
distract her more than he had already. She'd trained all these
years to be a dancer; that was her sole focus. There was no time or
space for dating in her life, was there? Was there ?
That morning in class the director had
spoken to her, complimented her "line" in an arabesque. Her hip
wasn't stiff and her foot wasn't hurting. Maybe Joe had done
something magical to her. Or he'd simply taken her mind off it for
a while.
As she exited the stage that night she
encountered one of the lead male dancers who smiled at her, winked
and said, "Whatever you're doing, keep doing it. You look fabulous
tonight, good enough to eat, sweety."
Lily didn't know what to say to that, so she
laughed and blushed. A compliment from a gay dancer was high praise
indeed.
Maybe it had done her good to have something
other than dance to think about for once. She looked at her face in
the mirror and saw the sparkle in her eyes, the confident glow in
her cheeks. Amazing the difference he'd made after just one morning
in his company.
Reading Joe's note again, she felt a smile
play over her lips, but it was so shy she daren't look up and see
it in the mirror.
If she met him just once more it surely
couldn't do any harm. Once more.
The sex was too much for her to resist. His
body invaded her dreams, and not just those she had at night, but
those she occasionally wandered into during daylight hours too.
Chapter Six
They met three times over the next week,
always going to the same hotel, sometimes barely talking. The
meetings weren't scheduled in advance. She would just call him
suddenly and ask if he was free for an hour or so. Yeah, it was
damn sexy, kept him on his toes.
On the fourth occasion he insisted they take
a horse and carriage ride through Central Park, as if they were
tourists. She said she'd never done it, despite living more than
ten years in the city. There wasn't much, it seemed, that she had
done there apart from dance.
"I don't want you to get all panicky," he
told her somberly. "This ain't a date. I know it seems romantic,
but don't get any mushy ideas."
She looked at him, one eyebrow arched. "Oh,
I won't."
It was a cold afternoon, the air crisp and
brittle, and they huddled together under a plaid blanket as the
carriage rolled through the shimmering, frosty winter park.
"Didn't you find your gloves?" she
asked.
"Nah." He grabbed her hands under the
blanket. "You'll have to keep them warm for me."
It was two days since he'd seen her and he'd
missed her. It made his voice husky, the desire to touch her almost
overwhelming. Her skin was so soft and dewy, her blue eyes inky
that afternoon, dark and heavy.
When she said, "Let's go to the hotel now
and get warm properly," he didn't argue.
Planning ahead for a change, he always
brought condoms with him now.
They barely got the door shut before they
were pulling their clothes off, dropping underwear and stepping out
of it as they kissed and touched like two horny teenagers. They
showered together and fucked in a mad, desperate coupling against
the wet, soapy tiles, as if they were starved for each other. Joe
lifted her onto his cock and she wrapped her legs around his waist,
gasping, her face turned up to the stream of water. His balls
tingled with the need to empty and his shaft thrust hard up into
her. He licked and suckled her tits until they were scarlet and
firmly peaked. God, he'd dreamed of having her all day, his body
restless to lay with her again. Sometimes he broke out in a sweat
when he thought about her. It was an addiction.
"Fuck my ass,"
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