Halloween, Part Two

Continued from previously....

Minutes or years later, she opened her eyes. And spotted Captain America in one corner of the ballroom. He had a shield strapped to his back, a martini with a twist in one hand, and the most luscious mouth she had ever seen. The belt did wonders for his firm thighs and an alluring expanse of blue cloth between. 

Sula rarely indulged her sexual side – the risks of disease and the disapproval of her family kept her firmly in line. But tonight was Halloween. No one knew her. She slid over to the honorable Captain. “Would you like to dance with me?” 

Behind the mask, he looked her up and down, his gaze catching at her breasts and lips. “Why sure, little lady.” 

She grinned, looking him dead level in the eye. She was too tall for girl, but he was just right for man. Caught up in her daring, she led the way out to the floor, but Captain America caught her. 

“Allow me.” He put his hands on her waist and settled her against his thigh. Her breath caught at his boldness. She thought they would merely dance facing each other, not slide against each other’s bodies in imitation intimacy.

George Clinton took them on a trip to Erotic City as the Captain gripped her waist. At his hot clasp, all of her hang-ups disappeared. Her head tipped against his neck and she breathed him through his costume. Nothing smelled like a man.

The hot beat had her tracing the line his muscles made down his arms to his hands then back up. His fingers inched down her hips until he clutched her ass with wide, strong hands. Kneading her, he watched her swallow and lick her lips.

The thin fabric of her lamé pants offered no shield from his assured touch. Sula wanted none. He slid down her body, his breath teasing at her belt. Her untucked shirt offered no protection and his mobile tongue circled her navel. She grasped his shoulders and rippled against him, lost in the sensations. 

Agonizingly slowly, he traveled back up her torso, kissing each and every button. When he reached her cleavage, he rubbed his face against the sides of her breasts, the fabrics of his mask and her shirt setting up a shiver through her. Then he licked a hot wet path from between her breasts to her collarbone. A slight graze of teeth of her neck had her whimpering and her nails dug hard into the chain mail like texture of his costume. 

He leaned in as the beat slowed.

Her eyes flicked down to his curving mouth. 

His lips were warm and dry and firm…and then he traced her lower lip with his tongue. Sula stroked her tongue along his. He pulled her upper lip into his mouth, sucked off all of her lipstick. Sula started. The heat pooling in her belly undid her. She slid his lower lip between her teeth and sucked back. 

He tasted of lemon and gin and a man’s desire. She grabbed his biceps, the feel of the nubbly blue cotton under her palms maddening to her heated senses. She held his face, the mask both safe and irritating to her. Wrapping the long strands of her gel stiffened hair in his broad and powerful hands, he pulled her even closer. 

They abandoned the lip sucking to slide their tongues against each other. He had a man’s tongue, pebbled but silky. Sula had been kissed before and well, too. She’d been to college, after all. But kissing Captain America was an education in just how expressive and sexual a mouth could be. 

The next song started, something faster, sleazier. When her back bumped against the wall, she gasped, surprised he had maneuvered them so smoothly though the growing crowd. 

Pressing her into place, he settled between her legs. She whimpered into his mouth and rocked against the delicious pressure. 

She rode his erection. He would fit perfectly inside her, like he’d been made for her pleasure. Sighing with the delight of that thought, she grabbed his hard ass and yanked him even closer.

The heat in her lower body blinded her with the strength of her need. Her hidden lips swelled deliciously painfully. She pressed hard against him, but the friction wasn’t quite right. Hitching her leg up, she wrapped it around his hip. A low growl answered her motion and he pushed her harder into the wall.

Her head tipped back against the plaster. Gasping, she rolled her head back and forth. Taking advantage of her exposed skin, he spread the collar of her shirt. His teeth nipped at the flesh over her collarbone.  Sula barely bit back a whine in time or she would have let the whole ballroom know exactly what she wanted.

 She stroked her hands down his face, down his neck, exploring his broad, hard shoulders, his firm pecs and hard nipples. She trembled as she reached his waistband, and as she reached to insinuate her fingers between them enough to cup his crotch, his hands caught hers and held them.

She broke away from the kiss, startled and upset. Her wide, glazed eyes met his, enigmatic and hot behind the mask. She pushed her arms against his grip, wanting to start them moving again, wanting to feel his body, his hardness against her. 

“Why not?” she whispered. 

The Captain looked at her smeared makeup,  her body straining towards his. He licked his lips but he held firm.

“I don’t even know your name,” he whispered back. 

“Sula. My name is Sula.” What was one more risk at the thought of not touching him? 

“Sula. Pretty name.” He nuzzled her ear. He still held her hands away from his body. She licked the exposed skin on his face. 

“Please,” she pleaded. 

He loosened his grip. Just as her fingers touched his erection, she felt a cell phone vibrate against her thigh. A quick check of the message window had him swearing. 

“Pretty girl.” He kissed her again hard. “I have to leave.” He wiped away a smudge of her bright red lipstick away from the corner of her mouth. He slid a miniature shield from his belt. Teasing, his hand traced the curve of her breast before dropping the shield into her shirt pocket. “Don’t forget me.”

TO BE CONTINUED....