by Derendrea
Sensitive ~ Paranormal Erotica
Sensitive ~ Paranormal Erotica
Midpoint
SENSITIVE
An Erotic Paranormal Story
by Derendrea
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual people or events is purely coincidental. This is copyrighted work. Do not replicate it or distribute without written permission from the author. Brief quotes may be used for a review or critique.
© 2012 Derendrea Books
Smashwords Edition
“Are you sure this is what you want?”
I wrapped my legs around his waist. Leaning my head back, I pulled his face against my neck. Jordan obliged, kissing and taking my skin in his mouth. Pressing me against his body, Jordan started to walk toward the bed. My excitement heightened. I pressed my pelvis against his solid abdomen.
“You affect my more than anyone I have ever known,” Jordan stated, pulling up from my neck.
Did I hear him right?
“I affect you?” I stared into his dark eyes. “Are you serious?”
He lowered me to the edge of the bed and kneeled before me. “Very.”
His hands ran along the outside of my thighs, across my hips, then wrapped around my back. He slipped under my shirt and ran his warm hands across my back, but then stopped.
“I should warn you...”
I pressed my finger against his lips.
“Shh...” Leaning forward, I replaced my finger with my mouth.
Jordan leaned against me and resumed his work on my back. He pressed deep with his palms, running up and down the length of my spine. Halfway up my back, I realized he was removing my shirt. Deftly he pulled it off my arms and we stopped kissing briefly to remove it completely.
I wasn’t wearing a bra, but instead of letting myself be self-conscious I reached for the bottom of his shirt. My fingers traced over his smooth abdomen, across his navel, over his defined abs and pecs, up to where it was sprinkled with chest hair.
Jordan lifted his arms as I peeled it off of him. He shook back his long hair, looking more native when relieved of his shirt. The back of his hands ran down my arms, his eyes following his touch, lingering on my breasts, then down to my stomach. His hands dipped down, lightly rubbing the V where my legs pressed together. One hand rose again, caressing my midline, brushing my breasts, then up my chest to my neck. I tilted my head back, moving with his hand. His fingertips grazed my moist lips. My eyelids fluttered at the sensation. His fingers lifted and I licked my lips, tasting his husky saltiness.
What are you doing? You barely know him.
I grabbed his belt, spread my legs, and pulled him against me.
I’m about to get to know him a lot better.
EARLIER THAT MORNING
God, it was hot. Sweat slicked my body as soon as I stepped out of my car. I regretted wearing my black pants and double layer of silk shirts. This weather was meant for a knee length skirt, sandals, and a tank top. I could have never worn that to the meeting I had that morning, and I didn’t have time to change before I was expected back at work.
The parking lot of the university was packed full. Being an associate professor didn’t allow me my own parking space, so I was forced to hash it out with the college students for the limited spaces. Gazing past the rows of parked cars I sighed and started the long hike up the hill to the social sciences building.
I checked my watch. 9:12. If I hurried, I could make it before my next class started. I knew the joke among the students. If a professor with a doctorate was late, wait five minutes. If an associate professor was late, don’t wait at all.
The parking lot was void of life. There was the variety of college students’ vehicles: some whose parents provided them with far too much money, and some who worked an extra job just to put gas in their clunker.
I never liked showing up late. Even though I had a very good excuse, the meeting was required for renewing my license, I felt queasy and guilty, like I was a high school student skipping class.
Adrenaline made my heart race. I was used to my feelings, and the intense physical reactions that accompanied them. Studying psychology, I dubbed myself with having a “sensitive personality type”. Easily overwhelmed, can’t stand lots of people, exaggerates situations. Oh, and a highly active imagination.
Just get to class, I told myself. Once you get inside you’ll feel better. I also talk to myself. Borderline personality disorder.
I checked my watch. 9:14. In a few minutes the halls and parking lot would be crowded with a rush of students going to their next class or leaving campus. Great. I usually could control my agoraphobia, but today the thought of elbowing through talkative college students made me nauseated.
Relieved, I climbed the short set of stairs to the last parking lot, my eyes on the victorian style building at the top of the hill.
I was almost there, but my feet stopped moving. From my right I saw a dark vehicle circling the lot. I shook my head. Good luck finding a parking place here.
I willfully lifted my foot from the pavement, but stopped again when the boxy vehicle turned my way. The vehicle was too long to park here anyway. It was a black hummer with an extra window between the front and passenger doors. What was it doing here?
I felt faint when the vehicle slowed to a stop in front of me, and the moistness pressing against my panties tingled. The hummer had a government feel to it. The body wasn’t decorated with chrome accessories, the tires were grooved with mud grips, but weren’t over-the-top huge. My breath caught in my throat when the driver’s window electronically rolled down. I was utterly alone in the parking lot. If the driver had bad intentions...
Stop being paranoid.
“Excuse me,” the driver stated. The absence of “ma’am” and his nondescript accent suggested he wasn’t from the south. That didn’t surprise me, since the university attracted people from a variety of places. What made me nervous was his hair and clothing. His blond hair was buzz shaved and his skin was tone and tan. He wore a plain, new looking black t-shirt. Military. Though the windows of the hummer were pitch black, I had the sense he wasn’t the only one in the vehicle.
My spine prickled. I had a strong urge to run around the vehicle toward the safety of the buildings. Etiquette, however, dictated I respond.
“Yes?” my voice shook. Being out of breath and about to have a heat stroke didn’t help me sound collected.
“We’ve gotten turned around. Can you direct us back to Highway 110?”
And you ended up here? My nerves were on fire. Something was wrong. I tried to swallow but my throat was too tight.
He had said “we”, so it wasn’t rude for me to move at a different angle to see the passenger. The man in the passenger seat didn’t look up from the flat screen tablet on his lap. He had brown hair cut in a similar style, maybe slightly older, and a similar black shirt. No, the exact same shirt. Holy crap.
My body was shaking when I started to answer him. “You have to go back out to the street and take a right.” I gestured toward the entrance of the parking lot, but as I did I saw the hummer’s back door opening.
Shit! Figures rushed out of the door like a swat team. Something primal kicked in and I transformed from a deer caught in the headlights to one running away from a predator. I lunged forward, my only thought to get away from these men, whatever they were doing.
I was about to round the bumper of the hummer when a strong hand grabbed my arm. My eyes scanned the parking lot as I spun around, but no one was out there to help me. I swung at my captor with my purse but my wrist was caught before I hit anything. For a moment I thought I was dead. I looked around for a gun, but none of them held one. There were three men,
all in black shirts. I didn’t have time to notice anything else about them when a black cloth wrapped around my face.
They started to drag me back toward the rear of the hummer. My boots skidded against the pavement. They didn’t hurt me, but their grips were tight on my arms. I angled my legs and pushed down my feet to halt them. If I could delay them long enough someone would have to see I was being abducted. I clenched my hands together in front of my chest and jerked my body back and forth. Growing up with three brothers had taught me a few things.
I could feel a man on either side of me, forcing my hands behind my back with synchronized movements. Another of them tightly wrapped his arms around my legs. SHIT! I struggled against them as they lifted me together.
I couldn’t tell where I was, but I knew they hadn’t gotten me inside their vehicle yet because I could still feel the hot sun through my clothes. The grips under my arms shifted and I managed to pitch my elbow outward, hoping to hit one of them in a sensitive area.
Instead, it cracked against unforgiving metal. Intense pain jolted through my arm and I cried out.
“Damn it,” a male voice muttered. They were lifting me inside the vehicle. Scream, you idiot! But I couldn’t make a sound as my body spasmed with agony.
I wanted to cradle my arm, curl in a ball and cry, but my arms were forced apart. I heard the car door slam shut and felt the vehicle start to move. They pushed me onto a cushioned seat. I was afraid they were about to take advantage of me. Sure the next hand I felt would be on an inappropriate place, I violently kicked my legs and tried to jerk my arms out of their holds. But when I moved my right arm, the shock of pain went through my body again. I cried out through my cringing chest.
“Easy,” a man stated ahead of me. A solid part of his body pushed against my lap, making me sit flush against the seat. I felt a strap or belt over my waist. My legs were pinned to a cushion by the floorboard. A strap tightened over them, below the knee.
A man sat to my left, firmly holding down my arm and shoulder against the seat. The man to my right held my shoulder in the same place, but gingerly supported my injured arm on top of his. His hand lightly gripped my bicep, should I try to free myself again.
But I didn’t. I was completely immobilized, and stopped struggling. When I stilled, I could feel the vehicle moving, but I couldn’t tell the speed or direction. Those movies where the abductee memorizes turns and stops to know where they are taken were bull shit.
My gut cramped and my head swam. The man atop me shifted, moving his legs to either side of mine, straddling my lap. I felt like I was going to throw up, or pass out, but I didn’t try to stop it.
The cloth lifted from my head and I was able to breathe easier. A bright red light flickered over my eye and I squinted. The man lowered a silver screen from my view. I blinked to focus my eyes, trying to see past the pounding headache.
The man just two feet from my face seemed at first to be someone I recognized. His long black hair was pulled back and tied. I probably thought I recognized him because he had a movie star face, symmetrical and proportional features, perhaps with a small percentage of Native American in his blood. His eyes were intense. Though he looked to be in his thirties, like me, I felt like I was a child under his gaze. I felt butterflies in my stomach.
He looked away, moving his hand to my shoulder. The spell passed and I remembered where I was. I felt my lips quivering. I pressed them together, watching the stranger lift his palm to my neck.
“This will sting a moment.” His voice sent shivers down my back, but not of fear. He pressed something cold and metal on the curve of my neck. There was a circular pang against my skin and I cringed. It lasted only a second, then was replaced by a dull throbbing.
I was worried the thing drugged me. “Identity confirmed,” a computerized voice rang from the screen in his hand. The man’s sharp eyes met mine again.
“Hello, Miya.”
His smooth tone speaking my name made a warm sensation tingle across the surface of my body.
A hundred questions ran through my head, wanting to be spoken. How do they know who I am? Who are they? What do they want with me? I was a single, working-class associate professor with department store clothes. Surely they didn’t think they would get much of a ransom for me. The expression on the man’s face held me, and my demanding thoughts.
“We aren’t going to harm you.”
I smirked at him and glanced at my right arm, feeling its ache. My elbow might be badly bruised, but it wasn’t broken. His eyes followed mine and he sighed.
“That was an accident.” His tan, sinewy hand touched my wrist then delicately ran down my bones to my elbow. I flinched, but didn’t feel any pain. The man to my right released the pressure on my shoulder and let go of my arm. He moved to the side and the stranger took his seat, allowing me view of the rest of the vehicle.
There were three more men seated in the back of the hummer. They stared back at me as my eyes darted over them. Same black shirts, middle aged, medium build. Shit, shit, shit. I looked to the windows to discern our location. My insides cramped. The windows were completely black. What kind of car doesn’t let you see out? The car was moving at a steady speed, not turning and stopping, so we must have gotten out of town. But where?
“Who are you?” I demanded. My body was giving way to panic. I pushed against the restraints, though I knew they wouldn’t budge.
“Give me a reading,” the stranger stated. He positioned my injured arm between his hands, cupping my elbow.
“Surface temperature 38 degrees,” the man to my left stated. What? Was he talking about me? It had to be Celcius... Damn it, I should know what that means.
“Heart rate 140 BPM. Blood pressure 175 over 90.”
That I understood. It was way too high. I shuddered. But how did they read it without a cuff?
“Just relax.” His words blanketed me with a sense of ease, but there was something more. A warm comfort rippled beneath his hands. The pain in my elbow peeled away.
With narrowed eyes he stared down at my arm. Sensation tingled toward my hand, like a rush of blood, then my hand went numb.
“ETA thirty-five minutes,” a man’s voice said from the front of the vehicle.
“Where are we going?” I tried to make my words forceful, but my chest was heavy. A hum of feeling in my arm consumed my awareness. My arm twitched then relaxed again. The pain was completely gone.
I had tried reiki and meditation in college, but this was something I had never experienced. It was as if he commanded my muscles to relax.
You’re just imagining things.
The sensation moved up my shoulder. When I took a deep breath it filled my lungs. I felt drowsy, like I drank a little too much before going to bed.
The place on my neck where the computerized device had penetrated my skin stung when my other discomfort faded.
The stranger’s hand went to my neck. I forced my eyes to open, not realizing I had closed them. He touched the injured spot and I gasped. Did he just sense I was hurting there?
Don’t be stupid. Stress has made you delusional.
One finger pressed beside the wound on my neck, and in moments the ache started to ease. It felt like he pulled the pain out through my skin.
Crazy people don’t realize they are crazy, I chastised myself. How about a test? If he can really tell what I’m feeling... My attention focused on the belt across my lap. It wasn’t painful, but uncomfortable where it dug into my abdomen.
The stranger met my gaze with a serious, yet pleasant expression. His hand moved toward my lap. I held my breath. I wanted to look down to where I felt him adjusting the strap, but I couldn’t look away from his face. The edges of his lips lifted slightly. One of his eyes half-winked. So subtle I almost didn’t see it.
But I did see it. Warm tingling spread across my abdomen, through the sensitive area between my thighs, then across my legs.
Oh my God!
My breath was shallow, hesitant. I
tried to breathe in his smell, but all I got was a non-scent. This close, and with the heat, I should have been able to smell some cologne or antiperspirant, perhaps even his natural musk, but I could smell nothing from him. I wouldn’t have minded getting closer to him. I would press my face against his skin to see if I could smell something then. Kiss it to see how it tastes. My cheeks flushed at the thought.
I didn’t meet his gaze, worried he would be able to read my thoughts. Let’s see if he senses this... I shifted my thoughts to the strap tightly pinning down my legs. The same moment I thought it, he leaned down and took the strap in his hands. I felt the flush up my legs, stronger now, and my knees turned inward. He slackened the belt a couple inches then secured it again.
I didn’t realize his left hand still held my elbow until I felt warmth emanating from it again. He sat up and stared at me. Why would a man so handsome be interested in me? I was held in his captivating gaze. Drowsy calm spread through my head, my chest. One more test. My concentration went to my lips. Their surface tingled and they felt exaggerated. I looked deeply into his dark eyes. If you can really feel it, then kiss me.
He chuckled. No he didn’t, he hadn’t moved. The chuckle was in his head.
Now you are really going crazy.
“Just lay back,” he said in a soft, yet commanding voice. He placed his hand on my chest to make me comply.
The calm was overpowering. My chest barely lifted as I breathed. The feeling spread across my entire body. I realized how to classify the sensation rippling through my flesh. It was the pleasure of ecstasy, not as strong, and not as short lived. I wanted it to go lower.
I don’t know if it was the stranger causing feeling across my skin, or my own imagination, but the feeling gradually moved to my tender area. Muscles between my thighs squeezed in response. I was glad no one could see it.
My body felt like it melded with the seat. His hand pressed lightly near my collar bone, lifting and falling with my slowing breath. I could still feel the warmth between my legs, but it was diluted by the relaxing sensation bubbling ever muscle and surface of my body. That was exactly what it felt like: the moment after finishing the best sex of my life.
