Return to Sender

by Harmony Raines

  Return To Sender

  ***

  All rights reserved. This book, or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner without the express written consent of the author or publisher.

  This is a work of fiction and is intended for mature audiences only. All characters within are eighteen years of age or older. Names, places, businesses, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, actual events or places is purely coincidental.

  © 2013 Harmony Raines

  Silver Moon Erotica

  Smashwords Edition

  ***

  Chapter One

  Marcus folded the letter carefully, he had spent two days writing it, struggling to find the words he wanted to say. This was the most important letter he had ever written to Christie, hell, it was the most important letter he had ever written in his life.

  He sealed the envelope and addressed it carefully; he certainly didn’t want this one going astray. Then he got up and left his barracks to hand it over to be posted before he had a chance to change his mind. He had poured his heart into that letter, something he had always struggled to do, having been brought up by parents who taught him to always keep his emotions under control. They were not something you showed other people, they were a weakness.

  Yet over the last six months of exchanging letters with Christie he had begun to open up, to express things he had never had the courage to before. It had taken time, after all she had been a complete stranger when they had first started to correspond, but now they knew each other inside out, even though they had never met.

  That was what his letter was about, he was returning home from Afghanistan in two weeks time, and he wanted to meet her. From the previous letters she had sent he was sure she felt the same way, but naming a time and a place was something else, it was a commitment.

  Deed done, he returned to his temporary home and sat down on the bed. He couldn’t take it back now, it was done, and now all he could do was wait.

  ***

  “Hey, Marcus, there's a letter for you.”

  A week had passed; this was it, her reply. Nervously he reached out for the envelope, and then his heart hit the ground as though a mortar had been aimed at it. The envelope was his. He turned it over to read the words, “return to sender, no longer at this address” written in a neat hand across it.

  He stood staring at it. How could he have got it so wrong? The relationship they had nurtured in their letter writing seemed so real, so honest, how could she simply move and not let him now. The words of his parents came back to him, they were right after all, you couldn’t trust anyone with your heart, it was best to just wall it up and not let anyone in.

  ***

  Chapter Two

  Christie sat looking out of her window, the light was fading from the sky, evening was settling in and any minute now Sarah Jane was going to be knocking on her door. They were supposed to be going dancing, to cheer her up, but all she wanted to do was stay inside and hide.

  Let’s face it, all the men would be falling over themselves to dance with, Sarah Jane, she was after all stunning to look at, unfortunately that was all that seemed to matter to men these days. More and more people seemed to judge you by what was on the outside, not the inside. So no one really got to know Christie, because no one ever wanted to dance with Sarah Jane's fat friend.

  However, Christie knew she couldn’t sit here forever, she had to move on. But to what? If a man who had shared so much with her, but had never even met her, could dump her, then what hope was there?

  She jumped at the sound of the door, even though she had been expecting it. “You have to pull yourself together.” She chastised herself.

  “Are you ready for some fun?” Sarah Jane flounced into the room wearing the smallest dress Christie had ever seen.

  “I can see you are,” Christie stated flatly.

  “If you’ve got it flaunt it.” Sarah Jane smoothed her dress down over her slim thighs. “And tonight I have definitely got it.”

  Sarah Jane, ever tactful. Christie wondered sometimes if Sarah Jane only hung around with her because it made her look better against Christie’s curvy body. Men actually felt sorry for her, having to hang around with such a moose. Christie chastised herself for her unusual catty thoughts, it wasn’t Sarah Jane’s fault that Christie had such a curvaceous body, rather than being stick thin.

  They had been friends since high school, and had always kept in touch, although Christie had other, more mature friends now. The two of them had shared some fun times, and many hours with Sarah Jane crying her heart out when she had been dumped. She always found Christie a good shoulder to cry on, and Christie was a good listener, never judging.

  “I’m really not feeling up to this,” Christie said.

  “Nonsense, it will do you good,” said Sarah Jane, helping herself to a glass of wine from the fridge. “It’s time you got over your soldier boy.”

  “I still can’t believe he stopped writing,” said Christie. It had been three weeks now since she had heard from him. The last time she had written back to him she had implied she would love them to meet when he started his leave, obviously this had overstepped the line of their relationship and she had never had a reply.

  “Probably for the best, it’s all very well writing to each other, but it’s just fantasy isn't it? I mean when you meet in the flesh it would be, well, different.” Sarah Jane took another large swig from her glass.

  “What do you mean, different?” Christie asked.

  “Well, he’s a young, fit soldier,” Sarah Jane said, sounding a little worse for wear already.

  “And?” Christie wanted to know what Sarah Jane actually meant.

  Her friend stood looking at Christie, her critical frown telling Christie all she needed to know. “You're probably not his type.”

  “Not his type,” Christie repeated.

  “No.” Another gulp of wine.

  “And who exactly is my type?” Christie asked.

  “Oh, I don’t know, but a soldier just back from Afghan would want someone a little fitter, don’t you think?”

  “No, I don’t think. Not everyone is like you, Sarah Jane, some of us look a little deeper than what's on the outside.” Christie was on the defensive now, hurt by what her friend thought of her.

  “Yes, well some of us are more fortunate than others.” She threw her head back and downed the rest of the wine in the glass. “Right, are we ready to go?”

  Christie stood speechless, looking at Sarah Jane, then, trying to keep her voice steady, she said, “No, we are not ready to go.”

  “But you'll make us late; you'll have to pay for a taxi at this rate.” Sarah Jane left the empty wine glass on the side and now stood pouting in the mirror, refreshing her lip gloss.

  Christie knew she would end up paying for it anyway, she always did. For the first time she looked at Sarah Jane and realised she wasn’t a real friend at all. They had grown apart and Christie no longer wanted her as a friend, because friends didn’t speak to each other like that.

  “I think you should go, Sarah Jane,” said Christie picking up the dirty glass and moving towards the sink.

  “You're not coming?”

  “No, I am going to have a quiet night in.”

  Sarah Jane looked like a petulant child. “That will make a nice change for you,” she said nastily. Grabbing her bag she headed for the door. “And to think I felt sorry for you,” she said as she slammed it behind her.

  Christie stayed where she was, too shocked to move. There really must be something wrong with her, first Marcus, and now Sarah Jane.

  No, that was be
ing unfair, Sarah Jane was not a real friend, but Marcus, she had really thought there was something special between them, but she had seriously misjudged him. Now she felt stupid about all the things she had shared, with a stranger, in her letters. His replies had seemed so genuine, Christie now assumed she had been his entertainment while he was away, the sad woman who wrote to strangers.

  Groaning inwardly she suddenly had an awful thought, what if he had shared her letters with his army mates? Well hopefully they had a good laugh at her expense.

  Feeling sad, Christie went to the bathroom and wiped all her make up off. She then headed to her bedroom and got into her comfy sweats, chocolate and a movie seemed in order. Drawing the line at a rom com which would only make her more miserable she settled for a thriller instead. Settling down she managed to temporarily block out her misery.

  About an hour into the movie there was a knock at the door. She wasn’t expecting anyone. “I bet it’s Sarah Jane, come back to apologise,” she thought, pulling herself up off the sofa.

  Looking down at her clothes she sighed, if Sarah Jane saw her like this she would be more convinced than ever that she was right about Christie. Well she could think what she liked; she was not going to change at this time of night.

  Christie went to the door and opened it, her jaw almost dropped to the floor. There stood the most handsome, athletic guy she had ever set eyes on, outside of the movies. He had dark hair, and dark sexy eyes to match, his shirt gripped his well toned body in all the right places, convincing Christie that he had a genuine six pack.

  His eyes met hers and he smiled, she automatically smiled back. Who wouldn’t if they were confronted by such a sight on their doorstep? Her eyes wandered over his body, taking in the way his denim jeans hugged his hips, then they went to his hand, and her smile faltered.

  In it he held a letter, one of her letters, she had been right, Marcus must have shared them with everyone and someone had come to laugh at her. Don’t be stupid, she thought, no one would come to see a complete stranger, no matter how entertaining.

  Yet if this wasn’t one of Marcus’s army friends standing, looking so drop dead gorgeous, in front of her, then it had to be someone else. The only someone else she could think it could be was the man himself. Yes, that had to be it; the godlike man in front of her was Marcus. Butterflies set up home in her stomach, and she felt quite sick, this was not how she imagined their first meeting would be.

  “Hello, Ma'am, sorry to bother you at this time of night, but I’ve come a long way. I was wondering if you could give me the forwarding address of Miss Christine Barnsley?” he asked. His voice was deep and commanding, yet set with a tone that made you trust him and want to help.

  Christie simply stared at him like an imbecile; her mind couldn’t work out why he was asking for a forwarding address when she stood there in front of him.

  “Ma'am? Do you have that address?” he asked again, his voice still calm and even.

  “I’m sorry,” she said dragging her senses back to reality. “I don’t understand why you need the forwarding address.”

  “Oh, of course. Well, we wrote to each other while I was serving abroad, I’m a soldier. However the last letter I sent her was returned to me, I guess she moved and for whatever reason didn’t inform me.”

  “Excuse me?” Christie was beginning to think this was some kind of a joke, and Sarah Jane had put someone up to this to make a fool of her.

  “I sent the letter, and it got returned to sender, no longer at this address, see.” He explained carefully, holding the letter out for her to see, and sure enough it had those exact words written on it.

  “I didn’t write that,” Christie said, looking hard at the letter.

  “I see, well perhaps someone else in the building did.” A little exasperation began to creep into his voice.

  She looked up at him, taking in his strong features; he was as perfect as she had imagined him to be. Her heart did a back flip, even though he thought she had moved he had still come looking for her, all at once she woke from her daze.

  “I’m sorry, Marcus,” she said, watching his expression change. “I don’t have a forwarding address because I never moved. I’m Christie Barnsley.”

  “I don’t understand, if you are Christie, then who sent the letter back to me?” His voice sounded guarded. “Listen I’ve come a long way, I don’t want to play games, I thought you were different than that.”

  “Marcus, I assure you, I am not playing games. Why don’t you come in and we can talk?” She stepped back to allow him into her apartment, it was at that moment she realised how she must look. She wore old comfy clothes that did nothing for her fuller figure, and she had removed every scrap of make up earlier. She dragged her hand through her hair and looked at him apologetically, “You'll have to excuse me, I wasn’t expecting guests.”

  His eyes raked over her clothes, lingering a little long on her large breasts, which made Christie squirm inside. “You look just fine to me, Christie.”

  He brushed against her as he entered her apartment, she was pretty sure it was done on purpose. For a moment she thought she ought to pinch herself, surely she had fallen asleep in front of the movie, and this hunk was really a dream.

  “Are you going to close the door?” he asked, a hint of amusement in his voice.

  “Yes...of course,” she said shutting it quickly.

  “Don’t worry, Christie, you are quite safe with me.” He said, although his eyes said otherwise.

  “Yes, well I know that, you are a soldier after all,” she said, struggling with the effect he had on her.

  “Yes, I am, and soldiers are very capable.” The implication contained in his words not helping Christie’s state of mind.

  She felt all flustered, and blushed, he had the same warm sense of humour that had come across in his letters. Her legs felt a little shaky, this was real, he was actually here, she had fantasised about their meeting for the first time for so long. She wondered if reality would end up like her fantasies always did, with them both in bed.

  “Can I get you anything Marcus?” Christie asked, trying to maintain a normal tone, although this whole thing was nowhere near normal. She wanted to squeal and do a happy dance, but she thought that might scare him away.

  “Well, that would depend on what you are offering.” Again that suggestion of forbidden pleasures.

  “I have some wine in the fridge, or do want coffee or tea?” Preferences in the drinks department was not something their letters had touched upon. “Or if you prefer beer I could pop out and get you some.”

  He laughed, and Christie felt intoxicated by him. Who needed alcohol when a man like Marcus stood in before you?

  “It’s taken me a great deal of effort to find you, Christie, I can assure you I am not letting you out of my sight again,” he said, and she believed him, and that was just fine with her, she would happily stay in very close proximity to him for as long as he wanted.

  “Wine then?” She went to the fridge and grabbed the bottle, pleased Sarah Jane hadn't finished it all. She got two glasses out and poured the wine out, handing him a glass with hands she was sure were visibly shaking.

  “Thanks. Cheers,” he said raising his glass to hers.

  “Cheers,” she said, the sound of the two glasses touching filled her ears. Before the sound had ended she took a large gulp of her wine to try to calm her nerves.

  “So can I confirm you did not send the letter back to me as a way to avoid meeting me,” he asked, she felt the force of him bearing down on her, he would be formidable at interrogation.

  Christie placed her glass down, needing to reassure him. “No, I honestly have never seen that letter before.” She took a deep breath and decided to be honest with him, as she always had been in her letters. “In fact I thought you had led me on, you know, wrote all the things you did for a laugh with your mates.”

  “Why would I do that, Christie?” He looked at her intently.

  “Oh,
you know, I’m used to being the girl left in the corner at parties.” She blushed and grabbed her drink again.

  “Anyone who bothers to take the time to know you would see you as a great catch.” His voice genuine.

  “Well, that's the thing, no one ever does, my friend Sarah Jane gets all the attention when we go out.”

  He moved closer to her. “That is their loss, and definitely my gain.”

  “You're not in the least disappointed?” she said avoiding his gaze.

  “In what?” He was right next to her now, she could feel the heat radiating from his body, it was like wild fire, contagious and irresistible.

  “In me?” she squeaked.

  “Oh no, Christie, you are even more than I imagined.” His hand reached up to cup her cheek, stroking his thumb over her soft skin. “I am going to kiss you now, Christie, is that OK?” he asked his lips hovering over her’s, waiting for her answer.

  She swallowed nervously, and then nodded, her voice lost, along with the rest of her. Then his lips touched hers, very lightly, before deepening to the most wonderful kiss she had ever experienced. Heat flared through her body, her nipples hardening and brushing against his arm, sending electricity through her body.

  His tongue pushed for access into her mouth, she parted her lips and teeth to allow him to taste her properly, wishing she'd had the foresight to excuse herself and clean them before the kiss had begun. Marcus did not seem to be complaining, he ran the tip of his tongue around the sensitive inside of her lips before going deeper.

  Christie instinctively moved her tongue to join his, to entwine with it. She placed her hand on his chest to steady herself, the whole experience overwhelming her. Here she was standing in her small kitchen being kissed by her dream man. This kind of thing never happened to girls like her.

  While he kissed her his hands roamed all over her body, brushing her breasts, and then stroking her arms and her back. Heat followed his touch, her body responding to him in a way she had never experienced before.