Tropical Depression excerpt!

This is a little something from a book of mine called Tropical Depression. Basically, it's about Beverly, woman who came home from work one morning to find her home and her family destroyed by a tornado, leaving no one but her dog, Zack alive, and Tom, a hunky fisherman who lives alone on his boat. He has been avoiding women ever since his wife left him, but there's something about Beverly that intrigues him. Tom is willing to be patient, recognizing that Beverly is only just beginning to emerge from a deep depression when they first meet. This excerpt is a fantasy that Beverly has one day while she's at work when she's finally beginning to accept the attraction.

BTW, Sorry the picture is so small, but Tom has long blond hair, (usually in a braid) and Blond Muddy Guy was the only good example I could find! Ooo, Sharon! Here's a Hunk Hunting Mission for you: Find a larger version of this photo, or others like him. I'd be ever so grateful, and I know you'd enjoy yourself enormously!

Have fun!


But what if I hadn't been so tired the night before? What if, as he'd suggested, he'd joined in with Zack, licking me in the face? What if . . . ?

. . . . I stood it for as long as I could, but when I put my hands up to fend off Zack, I found that there were two of them, for, taking his cue from the dog, Tom had pounced on me as well and had begun licking me on the cheek. I didn't know which one to push away first. After a couple of tries, I found that I couldn't budge Tom, and Zack, who was never one to take a hint, came right back for more as soon as I gave him a shove. It was becoming apparent that I was going to have to either scream or hurt one of them to get them to stop. Actually, I had discovered long ago that just not laughing anymore was deterrent enough for Zack, but Tom had gone from licking to kissing and wasn't taking the hint. Not only that, but, being much bigger, he had crowded the dog away from me, as well. So much for being a patient fellow. . . .

I wondered how long ago his wife had left him. I found it hard to believe that he could have been that hard up for women, for though he wasn't what you'd call soap-opera star handsome, he had a definite appeal—an animal magnetism that I'd felt the moment I met him. He was the sort of guy who, if I'd been at all susceptible, would have had me racking my brain for excuses to get this close to him. As it was, though, I was racking my brain for ways to get him off of me, the obvious choice being a knee in the groin, a technique which, while I was in an excellent position to use the time, seemed a bit harsh under the circumstances. In the end, I opted for a verbal reprimand, only to have my mouth covered by his as soon as I opened it. His kiss on my lips was no more intrusive than the ones he had scattered across my face—in fact, it was rather sweet: not erotic or demanding at all—but it did silence me, which was undoubtedly his intention.

I hadn't been kissed by anyone but Daniel in such a long time that I was somewhat stunned by it as a result. Not that Tom was doing anything out of the ordinary by any means, but having a man who was a virtual stranger kiss me in such a way was so shockingly intimate that my body responded to it with a jolt. Now, instead of trying to push him away, I found myself twisting my fingers into his hair and pulling him closer, deepening the kiss until our tongues met and his entire body was pressed down upon mine. I could feel his erection hard against my stomach; urgent need replacing the sweet embrace with astonishing swiftness. As his tongue delved deeply into my mouth, somewhere in the back of my mind, the voice of reason was shouting at me to call a halt to this madness, but my body wasn't listening since it was responding to something else entirely. On a cognitive level I knew that if I didn't stop encouraging him, it was fairly obvious that he was going to take me right there on my front porch—and I didn't even know his last name! No doubt Stella could enlighten me if I were to ask her, but by then it would be too late. . . .

Not letting go of my lips, he delved beneath my shoulders and proceeded to drag me away from the steps and deeper into the shadow of the house which lay across the porch. I heard Zack's whine and the click of his toenails on the wooden floor as he moved away from us to take up sentry duty at the top of the stairs. He needn't have bothered, however, for there was no evidence of any other people nearby, and the only thing I could hear was the relentless pounding of the surf on the beach below us.

Slipping his hands beneath my shirt, my attention was recalled to what he was doing to me, and made me wish that I'd had on more in the way of clothing. A tank top and shorts and a pair of panties was all I was wearing—not even a bra or shoes! He pushed my shirt up to my neck before pausing to pull off his own, and eased himself down on me, burying his face between my breasts. I could feel the soft coolness of the ocean breeze on my bare skin contrasting sharply with the heated roughness of his face against my nipples, along with the teasing tickle of his hair as it flowed across my chest and arms as he moved over me.

Capturing a nipple between his lips, he sucked it gently, sliding his tongue across it, making me gasp with surprise. He was touching me in intimate places that hadn't been touched in quite some time and I couldn't understand why I was actually letting him do it. I'd barely met him—what made him think he could do this to me? Was it something Stella said? Was it the way I'd looked at him that afternoon? All I had to do was say no, but I couldn't get the word to even begin to form in my mind, let alone utter it. His kisses moved lower, down across my ribs, leaving a trail of moisture from his mouth, his hands pushing what was left of my clothing down over my hips, clearing a path for him.

I kept telling myself that I should protest, at least make some gesture to stop him, but the sensations he was evoking were overwhelming. I hadn't felt anything for so long, the sheer novelty of it made me want him to continue doing whatever he wanted. It didn't seem to matter what he did, for every touch was nearly orgasmic in intensity when compared to what I'd been able to feel lately. Either that, or he was simply very, very good. . . .

He teased me with his lips and tongue for what seemed like hours; tasting me, tempting me and making me crave his touch more and more with each passing moment. If he'd stopped then, I think I would have gone into complete withdrawal; he was that addictive. Then he began spiraling in toward the apex of my thighs, intensifying my anticipation to such a degree that when his tongue finally slid across my clitoris, my orgasm struck me with all the electrifying force of a lightning bolt.

Gasping for air, I reached out—needing to hold onto something—anything—but especially him. My hands found only empty air as he moved away from me. When I heard his belt buckle hit the porch and realized what he was doing, and I looked up to see the dark outline of him, silhouetted against the stars as he positioned himself over me.

“Let me in,” he whispered, and I could hear—even in a whisper—the deep, throaty quality that lust had added to his voice. Just the sound of it intensified my need for him; I couldn't have resisted him if my life depended on it. Opening myself to him, I felt his thick, hard heat melt into me, filling up the void that was clamoring for him. I heard a sharp hiss as he sucked a breath in between his teeth, which was followed a moment later by a deep, shuddering sigh as he began to move with nearly agonizing slowness at first, but gradually ramping up to a rhythm that deprived me of all rational thought. Daniel and I had made love a thousand times, but it had never been like this. . . .

Tom stroked the inside of me, reaching and stimulating places that I'll swear had never been touched before. I heard moans of sheer ecstasy and realized they were coming from my own throat. I couldn't remember ever having done that in the past, yet here I was, moaning like a porn star. . . .

“Squeeze me,” he whispered, leaning down to lick my earlobe.

What? Squeeze him? Where? I was so drunk with the intoxicating quality of him that I wasn't thinking clearly. Then it occurred to me that there was only one part of him that I was in any position to squeeze, and apparently I got it right because a soft, “Yes-s-s-s,” hissed through his teeth as he rocked harder against me.

Completely helpless against the onslaught of sensations that were bombarding me, I let go, surrendering my grip on everything but him. No lightning bolt this time, but a sudden burst of energy, like smoldering tinder which abruptly explodes into flame and continues to burn as long as there is fuel and oxygen enough to support it. The fire within me set off a chain reaction in him, culminating in a series of thrusts that would have put splinters in my back had the porch not been so smooth and weathered. Zack heard the deep-throated groan that went with the final thrust and scrambled to his feet, growling.

“It's okay, Zack!” I gasped. “Go back to sleep. It's okay!”

Zack settled back down as Tom sighed against my hair, muttering, “That was more than just okay, if you ask me. Damn!” He collapsed on me with another sigh and I felt a gush of fluid drain out from where we were joined together.

“That's not what I meant, and you know it, Mr. Patient Fellow!” I grumbled. “If that's what you call being patient, I'd sure as hell hate to see you in a hurry!”

Chuckling softly, he said, “Well, for someone who claimed she wasn't ready, you made a pretty good show of—”

“They didn't buy anything but candy!” Stella complained, popping her head back in the door, interrupting my thoughts. “How are you coming with that?”