For Your Love by Josee Renard

Welcome to Part Time Lovers.

 

This is your invitation to play, to experiment, to fulfill your deepest, darkest fantasy or get down and dirty—and then walk away. No regrets, no recriminations, no rules.

We want you to make the rules for your encounter. There are no forms to complete, no wish lists, no compatibility tests. Just jump right in. Part Time Lovers is about hooking up with the right person for right now.

We know your desires change—maybe even from one day to the next—because ours do. We created this Web site to accommodate every single one of your desires.

This week you might want a quick fuck, next week that high school fantasy or the hot vampire you just read about in your favorite book. Part Time Lovers is the place for you to find your dream lover.

So come on in. Someone is waiting for you.

 

Mercy and Jules

 

Jules looked so contented and relaxed, Mercy wanted to smack him upside the head. Part Time Lovers had been frantically busy through September and October, but Jules swam through it as if it had been a warm pool in Hawaii, smiling all the while.

She saw Shea’s influence in everything Jules did, his limbs loose, his shoulders low, his face calm and almost always with a slight lift to his lips. While she seemed to have spent those months with her heart aching to match her head.

The headache—though it was more pressure than ache—was unrelenting. It had started soon after Rafa returned home. It wasn’t so much about his absence. They’d spoken most days and, for the first time ever, she’d had the most amazing phone sex.

They’d meet in bed—her in Vancouver, Rafa in Madrid. Mercy was spending piles of money on lingerie no one got to see except her because they’d decided to do without Skype. She was learning how to describe that lingerie, taking notes each time she was in one of her favorite stores, having the salesclerk give her the spiel, so that Rafa could see it and feel it as well as she did.

They alternated time zones so that it was late evening either in Spain or on the west coast of Canada. It wasn’t always easy, but it was always worth it.

Rafa had sent her photos of his bedroom, king size bed, dark wood, stone walls and floor. All the linens were red. They laughed together at that. He’d been in her bedroom, splendidly naked and aroused, but he’d asked her to do the same.

“All I remember is you,” he said when he made the request, “your hair falling around your shoulders and your mouth on my cock. The room? Pah. Your body was everything. You were all I saw.”

Mercy readied herself, didn’t matter whether it was day or night. It was the same thing each time. She poured her favorite Sensual Amber bubble bath into the soaker tub, lit candles, put on the tango music Rafa had sent to drive her wild. She closed the curtains and stepped into the hot, scented water. Thirty minutes later, her body humming with anticipation, she toweled off and headed for the bedroom.

There, too, were candles. The bedding was folded back and the drapes drawn. She dressed herself in the lingerie—this night a brilliant turquoise to remind of the summer nights she’d spent with Rafa. The silk cami caressed her skin, just touching her thighs and allowing a peek at the matching thong when she moved.

No music now. All she needed was the sound of Rafa’s voice. The phone rang as she settled onto the sheets.

“Mercy,” he growled, his voice as close as if he were in the bed with her.

“Rafa,” she sighed. “Are you naked?” At his yes, she told him what she wore so he could tell her what to do with it, so he’d know how she looked, what she’d done to dress herself up for him.

Rafa ordered, and Mercy touched her lips as he’d asked, drawing her fingers into her mouth, listening to the sound of his voice telling her what he wanted.

   

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