by Flint, Megan
Firecracker in Heat
© 2013 Megan Flint
Description: Trixie Harridan is in the best shape of her life. She meets a muscular, sexy man in a hotel bar. She's nervous about the obstacle course race in the morning, but Cyril offers to take her sight seeing around the village. Trixie knows that getting a night's rest is the smart thing to do, but one look at his powerful arms, encircled by mysterious Celtic tattoos, and she's mesmerized. As they flirt and grow more attracted, Trixie wonders if Cy will be the first man who can handle the explosive nature of her sexual appetite.
Length: 11,800 words or 48 book pages long.
Naughty Scale: Erotica. Steamy male/female oral foreplay and brassy undaunted sex. If you aren't 18 years old yet, avert your prying eyes. Or go ahead and look. I can't stop you.
1. Sparking the Flame
How completely like her girlfriends to bail out at the last moment. Each one had come up with a different excuse, from Candice’s straightforward “Sorry, work called”, to Kumi’s sidestepping “Was that this weekend?” From Jezebel’s rambling, “My, uh, shower head broke, and now I have to... wait here all weekend for the plumber to show up, so, you know, he doesn’t look through my things”, to Saffron’s refreshingly honest, “I deliberately left my phone at a one-night stand to make it a two-night stand. Maybe three. I’ll get back to you.”
Never mind that they planned this weekend six months ago. Never mind that they came up with a team name and had matching outfits made. It frustrated Trixie to no end that her girlfriends could be such wimps. They could care less about their non-refundable hotel deposits and race fees. It meant nothing to them when faced with the prospect of enduring a little pain. Well, that really depended on what kind of pain you were talking about. They never complained about being driven all night by a random hook-up until they were two-inches shorter. Screw them. She would run this race alone if they were going to be such cowards. The whole thing was her idea anyway.
Trixie walked into a moderately busy hotel foyer with two suitcases, one filled with sportswear, the other with come-hither apparel, just in case. She was well equipped for the weekend, in excellent shape, and her flaming red hair had been recently henna-glossed to a shine. Trixie wore it long and straight, so she could easily braid pigtails for the race. For now, her hair swayed like a cat’s tail as she walked.
Two aging gentlemen watched her procession across the lobby with openly lascivious smiles. A young porter standing next to the service desk completely forgot about the guest he was attending, distracted by her cleavage. The guest, an elderly woman, scrutinized Trixie’s short skirt with disdain through her thick spectacles. A middle-aged man standing by the elevator with a woman, likely his wife, drank in Trixie’s long legs. The poor woman had to point out that their lift arrived, twice. As entrances went, it wasn’t a bad one, but she wasn’t interested in any of these admirers.
Surely there would be other racers, preferably unattached, arriving early for the event. Trixie kept her eyes peeled for a robust male specimen to ensnare. She’d grown frustrated in the city, with an endless supply of men who were easily offended, easily startled, or both. Maybe a secluded mountain village would yield better results. She certainly wouldn’t object to something chiseled, sturdy, and tall, but Trixie knew she couldn’t afford to be picky. Not while playing the numbers game at any rate. Right now, anything to forget about the treachery of her girlfriends would be a welcome diversion.
The hotel was a lot fancier than she expected, featuring old varnished wood married to an understated modern aesthetic with lots of light. Nothing she could afford on her own, but easily manageable when split five ways. She could smell the chlorinated water of a pool and the heady scent of lotion wafting through the air. There was likely a spa on the premises, but it would be well beyond her budget in a place like this. Trixie waited for the female concierge to acknowledge her existence, which, despite the fact that nobody stood between her and the service desk, took slightly longer than it should have.
“Checking in Misses…?”
“Ms. Harridan.”
She typed her name into a computer and eyed the screen.
“The Fairview Suite for you and…T.A.R.T.?”
“Right, I forgot about that. That would be our group name. It stands for ‘Tight Assed Racing Team’.”
The attractive middle-aged woman gave her flank a cursory glance before focusing back on the screen. Her ass still wasn't where she wanted it to be, especially now, being the sole representation of T.A.R.T., but at least she had spent time at the gym, which was more than any of her girlfriends could say. She would get back at them for this desertion somehow, the details of which would come later.
“It’s just me now I’m afraid,” she added.
“Then you must be here for the obstacle race tomorrow. Would you like a wake up call in the morning?” the woman offered dryly.
“It’s still early. Let’s see how I do on my own first,” she joked.
“Very good Ms. Harridan.” The concierge curtly tapped a bell on the counter in front of her which signaled the end of their conversation. A fresh-faced teenage bell hop arrived to carry her luggage. “Ms. Harridan in the Fairview Suite,” the woman said without looking up.
The young man picked up both suitcases, but then let her take the lead, giving directions as they went. Trixie couldn’t help but wonder if she should be following him. Regardless, when she offered to tip him for his services, he declined.
“I couldn’t possibly accept Ms. Harridan. You’ve already tipped me more than you know. Have a pleasant stay,” he said, scurrying away with a sly grin.
Cheeky mongrel. Trixie would say something to the management if she wasn’t secretly flattered. Again, wrong target. She was interested in more mature offerings.
Trixie laid her luggage on one of two king-sized sleigh beds and looked around. The Fairview Suite was furnished with two large bathrooms as well. She and her girlfriends were going to double up for two nights and share the amenities between them. Kumi would crash wherever she could fit, which would be anywhere. Miss size zero. Now she had a tight ass. Alas, not all genetics are created equal.
Trixie eyed the desk with a phone and thought about calling them all. It was only a two-hour drive from the city. They could still make it if she applied enough guilt. She considered it, but then abandoned the idea like they abandoned her. Trixie couldn’t be bothered with the effort, and it was kind of nice having the whole place to herself. If her girlfriends didn’t have the guts to show up on their own, she would live like a queen in their absence.
She clicked open her come-hither suitcase first. If she was going to take ownership of this weekend, it wasn’t going to happen alone in a spacious hotel room. Surely there was a dining room downstairs, one that was hopefully adjacent to a bar.
Trixie shed her V-neck blouse and short skirt for a curvaceous green dress. Holding it up against her naked body the soft fabric adhered to her skin. Standing in front of a full length mirror, Trixie ran a hand up her inner thigh, filling her eyes filled with hunger. Her red hair looked vibrant against the green fabric. This was definitely the look she wanted. Ten minutes later, eyes painted darkly, she surveyed her handiwork in a bathroom.
As a natural ginger, there was no point in shying away from her heritage. Men were either drawn to her fiery mantle like moths, or they scurried away like frightened children. She wasn’t interested in the latter, so she accentuated her autumn hair whenever possible. The backless dress showed off her pale skin and well-toned muscles, putting all the hours she spent working out at a gym on display, not the least of which inc
luded her rippling calves, which were now pulled taut in a pair of modest heels.
When it came to meeting men Trixie didn’t have a type per se, aside from what she thought were normal standards; clean, healthy, and at least one attractive attribute, be it dazzling eyes, a seductive smile, or even strong hands. She wasn’t choosey. A girl with her unique disposition in the bedroom couldn’t afford to be overly selective. If a guy was respectful and stood taller than her in heels, then he could potentially have a turn on this ride. Other than that, Trixie cast her net wide.
She found the bar and dining room on the main floor, but it was either too early or she had booked her stay at the most retiring hotel of the village, which was starting to feel more like the case. Barely anyone had come down for dinner, except for one family, the oldest son of which couldn’t remove his eyes from her boobs. Her girls didn’t cause traffic accidents, but they were firm, and her dress accentuated their cleavage well.
Trixie waved cheekily, which was enough to draw his mother’s attention and earn the boy a scolding. The mother didn’t notice her husband stealing a glance as she sat down on a barstool, turning her back to the family. The bartender was a friendly old fellow, who seemed to wink habitually. She browsed through a menu of drinks and kept an eye on the door for new arrivals. Trixie was starting to think she might be better off exploring the village on foot. Maybe she could track down a livelier venue.
“Got any bitter on tap Eldwyn? I could use one tonight,” a man asked the bartender with a deep nonchalant voice.
It belonged to a flat-stomached young man leaning tiredly against the bar. Where did he come from? Nobody had stepped through the door since she arrived. She casually spun her stool around to face him. He hadn’t noticed her yet. The young man stood up and placed both hands into the small of his back. The short sleeves of his white shirt climbed up his arm, revealing a Celtic knot tattoo that ringed his thick upper bicep. Tall, lean, and well-built. He was probably here for the race. His dark brown hair was long on top, but short at the sides. A clean albeit dated look. And to think she had almost left.
The man turned towards her in a slowly articulated stretch. A muscular chest pressed against his shirt. He had an amazing upper body, but abruptly stopped when he spotted her sitting a ways down the bar. Trixie was staring right at him and made no effort to hide as much.
“Oh! Sorry about that. I didn’t see you there,” he said.
He lowered his arms self-consciously. Trixie wondered if he had known she was there and was merely strutting for her benefit. That’s what men in the city did. She was the only other person at the bar, but he didn’t seem like the strutting type. If he was tired before, however, his eyes were alert now.
“Don’t apologize on my account,” Trixie said, “I was enjoying the show.” She smiled and leaned forward on her stool.
Was she flirting already? He was the first glass of water to come along tonight. If she was patient, there might be more. Then again, he might be the only worthwhile drink this place offered. So far the hotel was fixing to be a wasteland of young men.
“Can I offer you a drink? Or perhaps you’re treating... assuming I’m the entertainment,” he said mischievously.
Cheeky. She liked that in a man.
“Sure about that? You could be making a serious misstep with an old fashioned girl like me.”
Eldwyn chortled as he placed a glass of dark ale in front of the young man. Trixie smiled and leaned back against the counter. There was no point in hiding her interest now. She didn’t want to appear desperate, but Trixie was thirsty. So what if she invested quickly? The other option was to stroll through the village in search of a club.
“If you’re old fashioned, then I must be ancient,” the young man said.
He took a drink of his ale and charted the length of her body. Trixie deliberately twisted around to peruse the cocktail menu again. She could practically feel his eyes on her exposed back. He walked over, put his glass down on the counter, and stood close enough to casually offer a hand in greeting while leaning against the bar. He smelled of lavender.
“I’m Cy, short for Cyril. What’s your name?”
“I’ll tell you, but you’d do well not to laugh,” she began. “It’s Trixie.”
Cy looked off to one side, rolling the name around in his mind, and betrayed only the slightest hint of a smirk. Everyone reacted differently. So far Cy short for Cyril was handling himself admirably.
“You’re thinking I made it up aren’t you?” she asked.
“I was considering it.”
“I can’t blame you. I was named after a cyclone that took place where my parents met on vacation.”
“That must have been an impressive storm."
“I suppose," Trixie said, as she circled the rim of his glass with a finger. "Winds over 100 miles per hour. Would you consider that fast, or exactly fast enough?”
To his credit, Cy didn't answer the question, but ordered whatever she wanted as they got to know each other a little better.
2. Panties Be Damned
After chatting for while, Cy paid for their drinks and asked if she’d like to step outside for some fresh air. They exited the hotel and he took her on a stroll through the village. He certainly seemed to know his way around. At first she thought Cy was taking her to another bar, but they passed a boisterous club and continued through the cobblestone streets. They eventually came to an area where it looked like the obstacle course race would be starting tomorrow.
The track was quite a production, with several climbing walls and deep pitfalls near the starting and finish line. Suddenly Trixie wasn’t so sure what she had gotten herself into, but that concern was quickly derailed when Cy slipped an arm around her waist.
“Are you cold?” he asked.
She was shaking, a little from the cold, a little from nerves. This race was going to be more challenging than she first realized. Trixie took another look around, this time for any people on the site. The construction crews were long gone and she didn’t see any patrolling security guards.
Instead of answering his question, Trixie took Cy by the hand, lead him onto the track, and pushed him up against a wooden hoarding, planting a kiss on him there. She gripped the back of his neck with one hand and placed her other up against his stomach. His abdominal muscles were impossibly well-defined. Cy's fingers went to her naked back. Trixie wasn’t planning on having anything more than an evening of fun, but based on the washboard she was feeling now, it might evolve into more. She parted from their kiss to lightly nibble on his ear.
“I was chilly, but something tells me that won't be a problem much longer.”
Cy kissed her neck. Trixie could feel her cleft swell in reaction to his lips, radiating warmth into her body. Dusk was falling around them and she didn’t care. The desire in her loins was fast approaching that point where she stopped thinking about their surroundings. No, she needed to slow down a bit. This was not the place to unleash herself completely. There were other roads to satisfaction that could be explored first.
Trixie ran her fingers through his hair as they kissed again and wrapped a leg around his waist. Was this how she held back? It was all the permission Cy needed to go a little further. His tentative behavior melted away as strong hands gripped her waist. He lifted her off the ground as she clutched his back for balance. Cy swayed a little, but her weight was virtually negligible to him. He might be slender, but he was built like an oak. Cy walked them to a row of bleachers where he gently set her down on a long bench.
There was still enough light in the darkening sky that she could see his eyes. There was lust there, but also restraint as he hovered above her body. His hand stroked the inside of her leg, but didn't go any higher as they kissed. They were already past that point in her mind, but well-raised boys didn't presume. Trixie lifted her dress up.
“Don’t hold back for my sake.”
Cy nodded and headed between her legs. He nuzzled the bridge of his nose against
her mound and inhaled. Trixie moaned and arched her back. She was already wet and the smell of her sex seemed to empower Cy. His thumb stroked her nethers, circling and delving only insofar as her underwear allowed.
“Take them off,” she begged.
With surprising strength, his fingers grasped her panties and effortlessly tore them from her body. Suddenly her lips were exposed to the cool alpine air, and without the slightest discomfort. He may as well have been tearing through paper.
Trixie had to question whether she was losing her senses. She barely knew Cy. Trixie had taken guys back to her place the same night as meeting them, but the speed of this hook up was breaking all records. Had even an hour passed yet? She didn’t care anymore. Her mind was made up. Cy would get the works, but she would take her pound of flesh as well.
If Cy felt bad about tearing off her panties, he apologized by lapping his tongue against her swollen node. Trixie bent her legs back, fully exposing her breach. He increased the rhythm of his licking and drew back on her labia until she slipped from his mouth. Trixie was proud of her cleft. Not only did the carpet match the drapes, but she was more accommodating than her slender frame suggested. She pulled his hand up to her mouth and sucked on one of his fingers, giving him a sneak peek of what was to come.
Cy’s eyes widened at the gesture. Clearly he had a good imagination. He promptly dove back between her legs again until she was brimming with dew. Her juices didn’t slow his enthusiasm in the least. Instead of coming up for air, he draped her legs over his broad shoulders. Trixie’s belly reeled with approaching release. He retrieved his hand and brought it between her legs, never stopping the whiplash of his tongue.
“Oh… whatever you’re doing… don’t stop,” she barely managed.
Trixie spread her legs wider apart and Cy slipped two fingers between her lips, driving them upwards against the slippery roof of her cavern while continuing to flick the enlarged nub of her entrance.
