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But so close to victory, she felt the thud of a pellet between her shoulder blades and let out a cry, sinking to her knees in frustration. ‘I’ll have that flag, please.’ The man’s voice was husky and yet strangely familiar. Pushing her goggles back, she looked up, and her mouth fell open with shock as she held out the tattered piece of cloth in a shaking hand. He was tall, broad shouldered. Clear, olive skin, hidden under the streaks of paint all over his face. The wind parted his brown hair, blew it forward, parted it again. As he pushed back his own goggles, her eyes met a bright blue gaze. A dimple appeared in his left cheek as he grinned, pulling the flag from her grasp. ‘Charles?’ she gasped at last, her jaw slack with disbelief. His eyes left her face and traveled up and down her body. She felt the touch of his gaze like a whisper on her skin. His eyes were like the ocean, just as she remembered. ‘Monica Stewart,’ he said. His expression was unreadable. ‘I think you’ve lost.’. Shelly: Hell, I would jump you if you came into my bed wearing that.Madeline: ROFLShelly: Ok, GTG. Coffee tomorrow?Madeline: Sure, see you then.But Shelly did not immediately go to bed. Instead, she expanded the picture even more, zooming in on Scott. He was naked from the waist up. Hell, he might have been completely naked under those covers. How could Maddy not want to be jumping on that hot, firm bod, Shelly wondered.Shelly's right hand dropped to her thigh as she held her phone in her left hand. Her eyes danced across the expression in Scott's face, the sharp, angle of his jawline, his strong chin ...Subconsciously, before Shelly was even aware, the fingers on her right hand started to slide across her curved inner thigh. She felt the heat of her wanting need as she gazed upon the photo of her best friend's husband."Put me in Coach," she whispered, pulling her panties aside. "I'm ready to play."She marveled at Scott's muscled bicep, the firm tautness of his pecs, and that.
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There was nothing to say about my batshit crazy teachers. There was nothing to say about my driving instructor. Everyone had acted as normal until Carmen appeared before me. Then everything went nuts.The skeleton of normality was there, I suppose. She had her woollen overcoat, her slim blue jeans and her plain black heels. Her eyes were still locked in an eternal dance between green and blue, never consistent. When she showed up on the scene she still walked the same as she always walked. Waiting for class she still passed the time staring at her phone like she always did. When she got annoyed at my dumbfounded stare she could barely contain her irritation, and spoke flames at me just like she always did. She was the same old Carmencita Ibanez I had had the misfortune of falling for.Only... the upper frontal part of her coat had been carefully cut out, and whatever she wore underneath it had undergone the same treatment, such that there was not a shred of fabric across her chest. The.

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