Winter's Fury - Volume Two of The Saga of the Twelves Read Free

piled earth.
The other was on the ground, arched, poised as if she were
anticipating some sort of confrontation.
    She was tall. Her body was
athletic, much like his. She had incredibly long hair, reaching to
her waist. It was jet-black and as straight as an arrow. She wore
it parted in the middle, equally divided about black eyes and a
broad face with a wide nose and pursed, bright pink lips. They were
most illuminant he had ever seen, yet what covered her teeth was
not the most striking feature about her. It was the color of her
skin. It was a sort rarely seen in this remote part of the state.
He felt his eyes widened before he could help himself. It was the
color of night, flawless obsidian as if she’d been sculpted, and
then painted to perfection.
    She… , he mused. His eyes danced over the one-piece leotard she
wore, clinging to her body like a second skin. He could not help
but stir at the sight of the tight nylon caressing her ample
breasts and budding nipples. The way it folded around the crests
and valleys of her vagina like a fervent lover. She’s naked underneath. Over the
form-fitting garment, she wore a long overcoat made of kidskin. It
looked like the ones the local cow-wranglers would have worn on a
cold winter morning. Only this one was black - a rare color for a
coat of that make. Upon her feet was a pair of boots, black as
well, soles made of some sort of suede.
    He slowed to a stop,
breathing deep, but not hard. He’d only run a mile and a half.
There was plenty in the tank.
    She came from the
embankment in one fluid movement like a ballerina. There was
nothing jerky or awkward about her. She was as pliant as
liquid.
    “ I’ve been waiting for
you,” she said. Her voice was deep, resonant and rich with an
unsaid promise upon every syllable.
    He felt his chest tighten
for a second, his loins gird. Her affect was incredible. Then, he
remembered what she had said. “Waiting for me, why?” He glanced
about, indicating they were in the middle of nowhere. Why would she
wait for him way the hell out here?
    “ I have my reasons,” she
replied as if to answer his unvoiced query as well. She walked a
few steps toward him, her hips rocking from side to
side.
    Inviting , he thought for no
particular reason. “But -,” he began.
    “ No ‘but’s’, Ricardo
Charone. It merely is what it is.”
    His brow furled. “How do
you know my name?”
    She smirked, leaning upon
a single leg, pointing the toe of the other into the soft ground.
She did not teeter in the least. Her balance was perfect. “I know a
lot about you, young man. More than you could ever imagine.” She
breathed a heavy laugh that came from her chest. Her breasts heaved
toward him for a moment. It was only a fraction of a second, but it
was enough.
    He was staring.
    Her knowing smile
broadened. “You run this route every Saturday. Do you
not?”
    He nodded, eyes playing
about her figure. He could not help himself. He knew it was rude to
scrutinize her femininity with such intensity, but he could not
help it. She was enthralling, though he would not have been able to
tell anyone why he would think of her in that manner. The thought
was streaking across his consciousness before he could stop
it.
    “ And after, you have a
quick breakfast, go home and take a shower, but not before you lift
weights for fifteen minutes. Am I still correct?” She was tapping
the tip of her boot into the dirt, the muscles in her legs rippling
beneath the sheer material of the garment she wore.
    Again, only a nod as his
orbs went on betraying him. How could she make him feel like a
twelve-year-old looking at Grandpa’s old Playboys in the attic? He
did not moon over girls like this, regardless of how fine they
looked. It was not his way. He did not approach females in that
fashion. It was degrading, uncouth... freakin’ rude!
    “ There’s more to you now
than merely your routine, yes?”
    “ I’m not sure what you
mean?” he managed to glance up into her