Slow and Easy: Sensual Erotica Boxed Set

Slow and Easy: Tales of Sensual Erotica

Lolita Lopez

Published by Lolita Lopez

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2012 Lolita Lopez

Lolita
Lopez.com

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal
enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to
other people. If you would like to share this book with another
person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If
you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not
purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com
and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work
of this author.

Table of Contents

Sparks

Indecent

Fireworks

Spurs

Be Our Valentine
Excerpt

About The Author

SPARKS

Chapter One

With a lazy flick of her wrist, Bibiana
swished the tip of her paintbrush in a glass of water. Soft pink
tendrils of pigment bloomed in the clear liquid. Head tilted, she
studied her painting and subject, her eyes skipping from the canvas
to the vase of peonies. A warm gust carried the smells and sounds
of a late summer afternoon, of honeysuckle and barbecues and
children dashing through sprinklers. Her skirt fluttered against
her calves. The porch swing to her left rocked slowly back and
forth.

As she blotted her paintbrush on a paper
napkin, the sound of an approaching vehicle drew her attention. Her
pulse raced at the sight of Logan’s silver truck slowly rolling
down their street. Window down, sandy hair ruffled by the wind, he
waved at the Olsens as they tended their flowerbeds and the elderly
Ramos couple idly sipping iced tea on their front porch.

And then he turned into his driveway and
flashed that easy smile at her. Bibi’s tummy clenched. Seven days
he’d been deep sea fishing with buddies. Seven days she’d missed
that mischievous grin, their playful banter over their shared
picket fence, and those oh-so-corny eye-roll inducing jokes Logan
liked to tell. And his scent! That piquant blend of citrus and
spice.

Sitting back, Bibi watched him unload a
battered duffel bag and fishing supplies. Her eyes trained on the
faded jeans hugging his taut backside. Unable to stop herself, she
imagined slipping her hands into those back pockets and whispering
in his ear, telling him all the dirty little things she’d
fantasized doing to him.

Would he balk at her advance? Give her the
usual line about ruining friendships with sex? Or would he drag her
inside and fuck her right there, up against his living room wall,
as she’d imagined so many times before? She couldn’t chance it so,
for now, she’d lust from afar.

As Logan started into his house, he turned
to face her. Again, he grinned at her, his green eyes bright from
his well-deserved R&R. She gave a friendly wave and smile. He
winked and went on about his business. Her face fell slightly as he
disappeared into his home.

Suddenly feeling less inspired, Bibi packed
up her paints and canvas and moved inside her house. She
side-stepped the boxes of tile, plumbing and construction supplies
littering her living room. Months of living amid renovation had
made her immune to these little annoyances. Such were the joys of
owning a historical home.

Bibi dropped her armload on the kitchen
table and looked around, at a loss for what to do next. She
considered eating an early dinner but food wasn’t what she craved
at the moment. She wanted Logan, naked and between her thighs. She
could just feel his lips on her neck, his rough hands against her
skin. Her face flushed at the image that streaked across her
brain.

No, she didn’t want dinner. She wanted a
shower and a little personal time.

Bibi locked her front door and scurried
upstairs. The second her feet touched the hardwood floors of her
bedroom, she started peeling off clothing and dropping it
haphazardly. She strode to her shower, flung back the curtain, and
lifted the lever. Wincing in anticipation of an ungodly racket, she
slowly turned the shower knob toward hot. Pipes clanged and shook
as water snaked its way through the ancient plumbing. The shower
head vibrated and sputtered before spewing water. She warily eyed
the shower head, wondering whether or not it would survive yet
another shower.

She just couldn’t wait for the plumber and
his crew to start their work. Two more days, Bibi. Just two more
days…

Moving away from the tub, Bibi opened the
linen closet and grabbed a towel. She snatched a hair clip from the
counter and secured her hair in a loose bun. With an outstretched
hand, she tested the water’s temperature. Satisfied, she slipped
her towel over the bar which badly needed replacing and stepped
into the tub. She tugged the curtain closed, and for a long moment,
she simply stood beneath the warm spray of water.

Lightly scented body wash foamed as she
kneaded a pouf between her hands. With slow swipes, she pulled the
lathered pouf across her wet skin, reveling in the silky sensation
of the soap. She rinsed the pouf and hung it on a shower caddy
hook. Eyes closed, she allowed her hands to slide down her
soap-slicked sides, to follow the curve of her hips and snake along
her tummy. She imagined Logan standing just behind her, his fingers
gripping her waist, his thick cock pressed against her
backside.

Teething her plump lower lip, she slipped
her fingers into the foamy curls of her sex. Her clit jumped at the
first sensation of her slippery fingertips gliding across the pink
nub. A soft whimper escaped her lips. Bibi’s hips angled as her
fingers slid between her folds, petting, penetrating. She thrust
two fingers into her creamy core, moving them slowly in and out as
her mind conjured visions of Logan kneeling before her, his fingers
in her pussy, his tongue on her clit.

Legs shaking, she leaned her forehead
against the wet tile for support. Her free hand squeezed her
breast, pinching and rolling the overly sensitive nipple. Desperate
to come, she moved her hand down her sudsy front until her fingers
found her clit. Rubbing tight circles with one hand, Bibi continued
fucking her slick cunt with the second.

Her hips rolled and rocked. Quaking breaths
shook her body. Her lower tummy tightened as ecstasy built between
her legs. Hot and pulsing, it demanded her full attention. Like a
tightly coiled spring, it exploded deep within her, taking her
breath away. Her lips against the tile, she fought to remain
upright as her orgasm rippled through her. “Logan!”

Still trembling, Bibi gently removed her
fingers. The shower spray rinsed away the shiny juices clinging to
her skin as she stood still, cheek and hands pressed to the tile.
Feeling ever so relaxed, Bibi faced the shower head, letting the
warm stream wash away the remaining suds. She reached down and
twisted the shower knob, fully expecting the oh-so-irritating knock
of water hammer—but nothing happened. Forehead wrinkling, Bibi
turned the knob some more. To her shock, the knob spun loosely in a
full revolution.

“
Great,” she groused. “Just
fucking wonderful.” She tried the lever controlling the flow of
water to the shower head but it did absolutely nothing. Before she
could try the knob again, the shower head started to rattle
crazily. With just a second to spare, Bibi turned her back. The
shower head popped off its pipe and smacked her shoulder. Water
exploded in the cramped confines of her shower.

“
Mierda!” Bibi scrambled
from the tub. An explosive stream of tepid water sprayed
everywhere. Not knowing what else to do, Bibi grabbed her robe from
its peg and scurried from the bathroom in search of
help.

*

A cold beer clamped in his hand, Logan
relaxed in his favorite leather chair. His mind reeled with
thoughts of Bibi. It seemed she was forever in the forefront of his
mind. Never before had he suffered through such an infatuation and
try as he might, he couldn’t shake her from his thoughts. He’d
hoped a week with friends would cure his obsession but even that
proved futile.

Nope. There was no avoiding the truth. He
was right and truly fucked when it came to Bibi.

Sometimes he wished he’d never answered the
phone that rainy April day almost fifteen months ago, that he’d
never agreed to provide an estimate for replacing the entire
electrical system in that rundown building she’d purchased in
downtown Houston. Even now, all these months later, he could still
remember exactly how she looked, how she smelled, how she smiled
when he’d met her.

Standing barefoot in a puddle of water, her
jeans rolled up around her calves, Bibi had been arguing with the
roofing contractor. Logan had been amused and awed by the curvy
little spitfire. He’d often worked with Jimmy, the roofer, and knew
all too well his tendencies to skimp on materials and skirt
building codes. To say he’d been impressed by Bibi’s ability to
wrangle a second roofing job, free of charge, from tightwad Jimmy
was the understatement of the year.

When she’d turned to face him, Bibi had
taken his breath away. That caramel skin, those warm whisky eyes,
those kissable lips… As she’d given him a tour of the sizable
building, he’d just itched to unclasp the plastic claw holding her
hair prisoner, to run his fingers through those gorgeous brown
waves.

Before he’d given her the estimate, Logan
had confessed he considered her project—to modify the old building
into an upscale art gallery and studio space—a bit overreaching.
She’d just shrugged. “I know it’s a dump, but it’s got potential.
And I’m determined.”

That infectious tenacity had grabbed hold of
him. Logan and his small crew worked their asses off to bring the
wiring up to code and to install all the sophisticated lighting
she’d wanted. In the end, Bibi did exactly as she’d promised. The
Belle Mélange made quite a splash with its first showcase of
unknown but extraordinarily talented Houston artists. Even with the
down economy, she found a way to keep art moving in and out of her
gallery. The diverse classes taught by Bibi and her small coterie
of artistic friends kept a steady stream of income pouring into the
business.

Bibi just amazed Logan. Everything she
attempted, she accomplished, maybe not the first time but always on
the second or third attempt. Even with the house Bibi had purchased
next door, the house he’d mentioned during the renovation of her
gallery, she’d done wonders. Granted, it still required a good deal
of work, but she’d see it through. She simply didn’t know how to
fail.

Yet always having her so close to him and so
utterly unavailable taxed his nerves. Logan desperately wanted Bibi
but she was just too far out of his league. He was a college
dropout; she’d graduated from Sarah Lawrence and then the Rhode
Island School of Design. He’d never traveled beyond Texas,
Louisiana, or Mexico; she’d studied in Italy and Germany and lived
in Paris for a year. He came from a long line of roughnecks; Bibi’s
father taught applied mathematics at MIT and her mother helped
infertile couples as a reproductive endocrinologist.

Logan had seen the type of men Bibi dated: a
professor, a lawyer, a writer, and a doctor. He couldn’t compare.
And the thought of being shot down by her terrified him. He loved
her too much to lose their friendship. So he watched and wanted and
fantasized from afar.

And what fantasies he’d had. In him mind,
Logan had run Bibi through a series of naughty moves that would
have made Jenna Jameson blush. Heat streaked through his groin as
he pictured Bibi in a particularly wicked position, her juicy cunt
just inches from his lips, her legs—.

A frantic knock at the front door drew
Logan’s attention. Frowning, he put down his beer and crossed the
living room. He flipped the deadbolt and yanked open the door. The
sight revealed brought a quirked smile to his mouth. Bibi, dripping
wet and obviously perturbed, stood on his front porch in only her
hot pink bathrobe.

Loving to needle her, he crossed his arms
and leaned against the door frame. “Well, well, well, Miss
Velez.”

She rolled those beautiful brown eyes. “Mr.
Weatherly.”

He slowly raked his gaze down her sopping
wet form. “Didn’t I tell you that shower head was on its last
leg?”

Bibi humphed in irritation. “Yeah, yeah,
yeah. Will you help me, Lo? Please?”

“
Anything for you,
Bibi.”

Chapter Two

Bibi stood in the doorway of her bathroom,
her eyes glued to Logan’s backside. She couldn’t see what exactly
he was doing since the hastily shoved aside shower curtain cloaked
him from the waist up but she could hear his grunts and growls.
Water soaked his dark blue tee. A litany of rather inventive curse
word combinations echoed in the room. Short seconds later, the
pipes clanged and the water flow halted.