Capture My
Heart
Part 1
by PatsBard
Disclaimers: This is a work of original erotic fiction copyrighted by the author. The characters within may not be borrowed for use in another story without the express consent of the author.
Sex Disclaimer: This story involves graphic, consensual sex between two women. If this is illegal in your part of the world, or if you are underage, please do not read any further.
Comments and Constructive Criticisms: May be sent to the author at barbd@peganet.com.
Copyright March 2000 by Barbara Davey
Prologue
Across a crowded room eyes shine with muted fire. The woman makes small talk as she circles through the guests, her gaze never wavering from her prey. The object of her attention swallows heavily as those eyes devour her; hardly able to keep track of the conversation she is forced into. More people enter the crowded room...blocking the view temporarily until a low growl is heard. The crowd parts.…
Eyes of molten gold caress her, sending shivers down her spine, making her hands tremble. Her conversation partner eases away...driven off by a darkly raised eyebrow. Her mouth is dry, heart pounding. Still not a word from the woman as she continues to stare at her hungrily.
A step, and then another. The woman stands close to her, the warmth of her breath sending trickles of pleasure through her prey. The burning eyes bore into her soul...no questions...just waiting for a movement. She makes the movement, swaying slightly forward, her mouth parting in silent anticipation. The woman's lips curve upward, eyes dancing now in amusement. "Come." A whispered word that sparks an answering fire. Her heart leaps in her chest as she follows her from the room.
The door closes with a soft click, the noise of the deadbolt being thrown startling her. “Who are you?” she asks, unsure and hesitant now that they are alone.
The dark eyebrow rises again, full lips quirking slightly. “Does it matter?”
A tingling in her chest moves quickly to her nether regions as she realizes the answer is no. Shyly, her eyes take in the figure before her: the aristocratic beauty of her face, shoulders broad and strong, breasts full and straining against their silk confines, flat belly smoothing down to generous hips, and long, long legs. No, she would follow this woman anywhere, regardless of who she is or how long she has known her.
Then slender fingers are plucking at the buttons of her blouse, stripping her quickly, easily. Her skirt falls to the floor and she is gloriously naked, pink nipples rising to hardness with wanton desire. Goosebumps chase across her flesh as the woman stands unmoving, watching her. She catches a glimpse of a smile before the woman turns her to face the bed.
The rustling of clothes follows then she feels the heat of her close to her back. Twin points graze her shoulders, and she gasps as she feels the tickle of the woman’s mound pressing against her buttocks.
“I will make you scream.” The words are a warm, moist whisper in her ear, strong hands grasping her hips as her knees threaten to buckle. The hands gently pull her backward until she is pillowed by soft breasts; the woman moving slightly to place a long thigh between her legs.
Steady now, she closes her eyes and takes deep, ragged breaths as slender fingers glide up her hips to her stomach, lightly tickling, then moving to her hard nipples. She gasps as one nipple is gripped between two fingers and tweaked. Liquid seeps from her as her clit begins to pulse with need. Moaning softly, she reaches back and cups the woman’s behind with her hands, as much to steady herself as it is to feed the compulsion to touch her. The strong thigh spreads her further and a hand traces a path down to blonde curls that are soaked with passion. A hiss from the woman is muffled in her neck, teeth biting into her neck, fingers slipping through well-lubricated folds.
“Oh God!” Two long fingers slide home, and her sex is cupped in a strong hand. The other hand continues to knead and tease her breasts, and her head falls back onto the woman’s shoulder. “Oh, please….”
The fingers twitch within her sending spasms of fire through her veins. Her hips begin to rock in a steady rhythm even as her vaginal muscles squeeze against the fullness inside her. Her breath spurts out in gasping moans and her fingers clench on the woman’s soft ass.
Her grip is loosened and she cries out in dismay as the warm body leaves her. She is lifted and carried to the bed, to be eased gently down on the edge. Her eyes are wide as she stares into cinnamon depths blazing with lust…and something else that she can’t begin to fathom. Then a hot mouth devours her breast and she is lost in sensation. Her body arches into the moist heat, and a hoarse cry escapes her throat. Fingers plunge into her again and this time she screams…an inarticulate noise begging for more. A low growl from her seducer, then a path of fire is blazed down her belly. The mouth that devoured her breast attacks her clit with hedonistic abandon, hot tongue lathing the small nub as the long fingers continue to plumb her depths. Stroke after stroke bringing her to heights unimagined, then the fingers curl and teeth bite down with cruel tenderness on the small bundle of tingling nerves that has become her world. She explodes in a fury of lights, colors sparkling against the backdrop of her closed eyelids, fire spreading from her center down to her toes and back again. Her inner muscles, pulsing like liquid velvet, milking the fingers for every drop of sensation they could bring. Her throat raw from screams that echo throughout the room.
Then she is enveloped in warmth as the woman cradles her to her chest and croons softly to her, kissing away the tears she didn’t know she had cried. And she sleeps…happy, sated, and sure of where she belongs.
Chapter 1
“C’mon, Stacy, it’ll be fun!” Marjorie Campton barely topped five feet, but her dark, twinkling eyes and bright smile revealed an irrepressible free spirit. Stacy McAllister sighed silently as she rebuked herself yet again for coming to the break room for lunch, rather than leaving the store.
“Marj, I told you before that I don’t like bars…especially strip joints. You can tell me all about it Monday.” She tossed her brown lunch bag into the trash and finished off her soda as she waited for Marjorie’s next volley.
“Oh, for God’s sake! It’s the Chippendales! They’re a much higher class of stripper than the other clubs have.” Marjorie wiggled dark brows saucily at her young blonde friend.
Stacy burst out laughing even as she shook her head no. “Male strippers at a male gay bar…now why on earth would you want to go there? You can’t even pick anyone up!”
“Oh, pooh. You’re no fun at all since you went to that ritzy party last month. You need to get out and loosen up. Get back into the real world, honey.”
Stacy’s smile faded as a flash of sultry gold eyes came back to her suddenly. She could still feel soft lips and strong fingers sliding gently across her skin, and she felt a burst of heat explode in her stomach, settling into her lower body with a steady throb. Four weeks and she still couldn’t get the woman out of her mind.
“You’re just jealous because you weren’t invited, Marj,” she retorted weakly.
Marjorie didn’t notice her friend’s loss of composure as she hurriedly put away her leftovers. “We’d better get back. Heaven forbid we take an hour and one minute lunch,” she complained. “Who died and made checkout supervisors God anyway? And you weren’t invited either, Little Miss,” she shot over her shoulder. “You won a radio contest.”
The two women rushed to the time clock, then sped to the front of the store so the next group of clerks could get their breaks. Stacy was relieved that the conversation had been interrupted, but even so, it took all of her concentration to make it through the rest of her shift. Memories of the party and the intense sexual encounter that had followed kept invading her thoughts and leaving her trembling with frustrated desire.
A mumbled excuse of having to get to her second job got her away from Marjorie and her well-meaning co-workers, and Stacy fervently hoped that they wouldn’t remember she had the night off. Slinging her bulky purse over her shoulder and sticking her hands in her pockets to ward off the slight chill in the air, she set off down the sidewalk and deeper into the city.
Fingers playing absently with the change in her pocket and eyes downcast, Stacy let her thoughts drift back a month in time. She could still feel the keen disappointment of waking up alone in the queen-sized bed with only the faint traces of perfume and the scent of their lovemaking lingering in the air. That, and the indentation in the pillow where the dark haired woman had laid her head, had been the only proof that the events of the evening had really happened.
Still filled with languorous warmth and not quite awake yet, she had stayed in bed thinking that the woman–God, she didn’t even know her name–was in the bathroom or maybe out getting them breakfast. An hour of that had started a chill in her body that she felt even now. The ringing of the telephone had harshly crushed her certainty that everything had been so perfect and so right, that she had finally found her forever. The concierge’s polished voice graciously asked how her stay was, and the man had been excruciatingly polite telling her that everything had been taken care of and please come back and see them soon.
Even a month later the memory of that moment brought a sob to her throat and Stacy stumbled slightly on the sidewalk. She didn’t come fully back into the present until the jostling motion she felt escalated into a sharp tug on her left arm. Her purse strap snapped and she yelled out in dismay as a grubby young man went tearing off with her purse clutched to his chest.
Before she could run after him herself, another man took off in pursuit. Any other time Stacy may have laughed at the absurdity of such a well-dressed man, obviously on his way to the theater or the symphony, dashing pell-mell after a threadbare thief. As it was, all she could do was look after the two men in shock, knowing that her entire paycheck was in that purse…money she desperately needed to get through the next two weeks.
“Don’t worry, miss. Michael can still sprint pretty fast for an old guy,” a deep, velvety voice reassured her.
“Old? He doesn’t look….” Stacy’s voice trailed off as she suddenly met twinkling amber eyes. Her heart lurched painfully in her chest and her knees buckled.
The dark haired woman was startled to see the blood drain from the pretty young woman’s face and she almost didn’t manage to catch her when she collapsed. She eased the girl down to sit on the sidewalk, crouching down beside her as she peered anxiously into deep green eyes.
“Are you all right? Here, give me your hands.” The woman chafed Stacy’s hands, trying to bring some warmth back into them. “You should be wearing gloves, miss. It’s entirely too cold to be out with nothing on to protect you.” Never mind the fact that the woman had no gloves on either. She knew she was babbling, but the girl had scared her–still was scaring her as a matter of fact; that intent stare was beginning to make her nervous.
“Stacy.”
“What?” The girl’s voice was almost inaudible.
“M-my name’s Stacy,” the young blonde answered hesitantly. Then she continued in a rush, as if she were afraid she’d be interrupted, “Where did you go? Why did you leave me like that? You didn’t tell me your name or how to get in touch with you or anything!”
Tears glistened in Stacy’s eyes, breaking the woman’s heart even though she had no idea what the girl was talking about. “Perhaps when my husband gets back, we should get you to a hospital. Make sure you’re going to be all right,” she suggested gently, her hands still trapped in Stacy’s desperate grip.
“Husband?” Stacy choked out. Then, to the dark haired woman’s horror, the young blonde passed out cold.
Michael Brandt jogged up to his wife’s side, a concerned frown marring the handsome lines of his face. “What happened, Emily? Was she hurt in the attack?”
Emily swept her hand through her hair and gave him a wry smile. “I told her you were my husband and she fainted.”
“I didn’t know I still had that effect on women,” he responded smugly, only to receive a poke in the ribs.
“I hate to be the one to break this to you, darling, but I think it was more that I had a husband at all.”
Michael stared at his wife blankly for a moment, then scowled. “Crystal,” he said flatly.
Emily nodded then brought her attention back to the young woman lying in her lap. She was a pretty thing, certainly enough, but she seemed awfully young even for Crystal to dally with. Emily’s sister tended to gravitate to more worldly women, not someone like Stacy whose sweetly rounded cheeks and ivory skin bespoke of a girl not much more than twenty.
Stacy stirred in her arms and suddenly Emily was captured by a misty green gaze. It didn’t occur very often, but every now and then Emily envied her sister’s life style. Never had she felt that envy as keenly as she did at this moment. The girl was breathtaking.
“Emily…Emily!” Her husband’s voice jarred her back to her senses and Emily blushed when she met his amused smile.
“Ah…sorry,” she murmured. “Just thinking for a second there. Help us up, Michael.”
Michael assisted both women to their feet, then handed Stacy her purse. “Here you are, miss. I managed to get this, but the thief got away. Why don’t you let us take you home?”
“Oh no, I couldn’t,” Stacy protested softly, trying to look anywhere but at the handsome couple before her. God, but Emily looked just like her mystery lover! They could be twins….
She gasped and her eyes flew to Emily’s face just as the woman reached for her. “You’re not going to faint again, are you?” Then turning to Michael, “Call us a cab, darling. We’re taking her home.”
Emily’s tone brooked no opposition and the next thing Stacy knew she was seated in the back of a cab with her dark haired savior, while Michael rode up front with the driver. By the time they reached her modest apartment building, she had possession of their business card with their home number and address, and Emily had written Stacy’s information down in a small, elegant date book.
Brushing off Stacy’s gratitude gently, Emily walked her up to the entrance. “We’ll be in touch this weekend to see how you’re faring, dear. If you need anything…anything at all, just call us.”
“You’ve done more than enough already, but thank you,” Stacy told the woman quietly.
Once assured that Stacy was safely inside, Emily returned to the cab. Michael gave her no argument when she requested that they return home for the evening. He had a feeling his wife was going to be making a phone call or two.
Sure enough, the housekeeper had barely gotten their coats from them when Emily strode determinedly to the study. Long fingers stabbed a string of number on the phone. “Crystal Beaumont, Room 512, please.” She listened a moment more, then broke in heatedly, “I don’t care if she has an entire chorus line in there! Get–her–on–the–phone!”
•••
The dark-haired woman’s slender frame was covered with a light sheen of sweat, the muscles of her powerful forearm bulging with effort. Each grunt she expelled was echoed by an ecstatic moan from the small form beneath her, and as she increased her thrusts the moaning matched her pace.
“Almost…there,” she gasped out, her voice muffled by the other woman’s smooth thigh. Then her head jerked up and back at the harsh ringing of the phone.
“Unbefuckalievable!” Bright amber eyes glared at the sleek black instrument, as if she could incinerate it with the force of her frustration and anger.
No such luck.
Wiping off her hands on silk sheets, she growled unintelligibly and snatched up the receiver. “What!”
“Crystal, so glad I found you in,” came the calm voice of her twin sister.
Crystal sighed heavily and cast a rueful glance at the blonde woman in her bed, who looked as frustrated as Crystal felt. “You found me in, all right,” she retorted, voice laden with innuendo.
“I’d apologize, but you know how much I hate to lie,” Emily answered smoothly. Without giving her sister a chance to respond, she continued, “Do you recall a woman named Stacy McAllister?”
Crystal repeated the name and furrowed her brow in thought. “Nooo,” she drawled out finally. “Why? Did I get her pregnant?” The conversation stopped momentarily as she laughed uproariously at her own joke.
Emily was not amused.
“Stacy McAllister,” Emily continued frigidly, “is a very sweet young woman who was unfortunate enough to cross your path last month. Do you at least remember the Gallery Showing at the Marriott?”
Crystal remembered that little party all too well. She cleared her throat uncomfortably. “Hold on just a second, sis.” The dark haired woman set the phone down and turned to the naked beauty in her bed. “Sorry, Princess. I have to finish this phone call and it will probably take me a while.” She smiled apologetically. “You know how relatives are.”
Princess Magdalena pouted prettily. She wasn’t used to her favors being abruptly turned away in such a manner. She was, after all, the one and only heir to her kingdom, small though it may be. “You will call me later?” she asked in heavily accented English.
“Of course I will. Just as soon as I get this straightened out,” Crystal promised, dropping a quick kiss on the blonde princess’ full lips and tweaking a ripe nipple. “Now go…” She watched the small form getting dressed with an appreciative eye and sighed heavily before picking the phone back up again.
“All right, Em. What’s this all about?”
“This is about Stacy McAllister. I want to know what you did to her.” Emily drummed long, slender fingers on the desk while she waited for Crystal to answer her.
There was something decidedly odd about hearing a voice so similar to her own coming over the phone line, especially when it held that decidedly demanding tone. Maybe she’s talking about someone else, she thought hopefully. “I don’t recall a Stacy offhand. There was a Marcia and a Kelly and a Marie….”
Emily cracked her hand down on the hard wood of her desk and Crystal jumped at the sharp sound. “You listen to me, you little piece of…”
“Now, Emily,” Crystal interrupted hastily, “No need to resort to name calling here. Honestly, I didn’t meet anyone who introduced themselves as Stacy.”
Emily took a deep breath and gathered herself together. She had never gotten involved in Crystal’s affairs before, but there was just something about that poor girl that brought out all of her protective instincts. And there was something Crystal was hiding…she could feel it. “Let me refresh your memory then: about five feet three, long blonde hair, eyes…” Emily hesitated a moment, thinking. “Hmm, her eyes kept changing color…but they were a bright emerald green when she first saw me,” she ended challengingly.
Crystal sat on the edge of the bed and rubbed her temple with one hand as the description of the woman sparked a vision she’d tried desperately to forget. Jesus, she could still taste her, still feel the velvety warmth of the girl wrapped around her fingers, could still hear the ecstatic cries as she’d…
“Crystal? Are you still there? Crystal!”
“Y-yes. I’m still here.” Crystal cleared her throat and tried to regain her composure, grateful beyond measure that Emily couldn’t see the way her hands were trembling. She briefly thought of coming back with a smart-ass comment about the number of blondes in the world, but she just couldn’t bring herself to do it. She knew exactly who her sister was referring to.
“Do you remember her?” Emily snapped.
“Of course I remember her!” she snapped back. “She never told me her name, that’s all.”
“You mean you never bothered to ask her,” Emily retorted. There was a pause while both women tried to collect themselves. Emily and Crystal didn’t fight often, but it was a strain on both of them when they did. “Crystal,” Emily continued in a much softer tone, “the girl fainted when she found out Michael was my husband. Please…tell me what you did to her.”
“I didn’t hurt her, if that’s what you’re thinking, Em. I just…we just…” Crystal sighed again. “We had a really good night together.”
Emily could just imagine what that might entail, but she kept her comments about that to herself. “And then you just left her,” she stated flatly.
“That’s what I do, Em,” Crystal muttered defensively. “I don’t want to be shackled down by anyone. Look what it’s done to you,” she added snidely. But she couldn’t keep the image of wavy blonde hair cascading over a snow-white pillowcase from drifting across her mind. Or how innocent and young and breathtakingly beautiful the girl looked as she lay there sleeping. It had taken every ounce of willpower she had to leave the girl that morning.
Emily looked up as a piece of paper was slipped in front of her. She lifted her face for a quick kiss and smiled. “I rather like being shackled. You should try it before you knock it, Crys.”
Her husband’s blue eyes twinkled as he took one of her wrists in his hands. “Shackles could be interesting,” he whispered, wiggling his eyebrows.
Emily swatted him and blushed. “That’s not what we were talking about,” she hissed at him. “Now go away!”
Crystal laughed. “Tell Mike I said hi, will you?”
“As soon as I’m speaking to him again,” Emily answered with a chuckle. She really hated it when he made her blush like that.
“All right, sis.” Crystal was suddenly serious again. “What’s the point to all this? It was a month ago, for God’s sake. Life moves on.”
“Not for you, it doesn’t. Not until you apologize to her.”
“Apologize?” Crystal spluttered. “For what? Giving her the best night of her young life? Not bloody likely!”
“Crys…you didn’t see her today,” Emily was practically pleading, solely focused on trying to get her playboy sister to see what she had seen in that small blonde. “Some hoodlum stole her purse and I stayed with her while Michael went after him. She looked at me like I was her world, for God’s sake! Then after she found out Michael was my husband…” Emily shook her head. “Crystal, I broke that girl’s heart and I don’t even know her!”
Crystal sat up straight on the bed. “Her purse was stolen? Is she okay? Did he hurt her?”
Emily sighed in exasperation. “No, he didn’t hurt her. You hurt her! Are you listening to anything I’m saying to you?”
Crystal’s heart was pounding at the thought of the blonde being injured. And to have her purse stolen…. She growled and wished she had been there to take care of that slimy bastard. Then her sister’s words sunk in again. “I didn’t hurt her, Em. We…we… Damn it, Em, I didn’t hurt her!” She couldn’t bear it if she had.
“You’re going to call her and apologize,” Emily demanded. “I don’t care what you say or what it takes, but you’re going to make that girl happy.”
“Fine. Fine, Emily.” Crystal gave in wearily. “Give me her number and I’ll call her.” God, but she didn’t want to hear that voice again. She didn’t think she could resist it this time. It was only one night…a matter of a few hours. How could the girl…Stacy…how could Stacy have gotten under her skin so easily?
“Oh no,” Emily drawled out. “I know your tricks. Get a pen and paper.” Crystal frowned in confusion, but did as she was told. “You have two hours to get packed. Here’s the flight information.” Emily rattled off the flight numbers and departure time while Crystal tried unsuccessfully to protest. “Be on that flight, Crystal. Michael and I will be there to pick you up.”
A click and a dial tone, and Crystal was left to stare at the phone in stunned amazement. Three hours later she was on a plane leaving Monte Carlo and headed for New York City, flirting madly with a dark-eyed, dark-haired stewardess in a vain attempt to keep from thinking about Stacy McAllister.
•••
(c) 2000, Barbara Davey