Standing in the Shadows by Shannon McKenna

conscious mind. The ultra-femme bedroom of his fantasies gave way to the crowded studio apartment in the Kinsdale. Painfully neat and organized, the braided rug brightening up the scarred linoleum floor, the crazy quilt covering the narrow cot. Heaps of books piled against the wall. Alphabetized, for God's sake. How cute. Every detail lit by the patterned glow of the basket lamp and charged with erotic heat.
    The Kinsdale room didn't make him feel clumsy and alien like the fantasy bedroom did, but it was even more alluring, because Erin was all over it. Her practicality and tidiness, her whimsical sense of humor, her refusal to give in to self-pity. Bright colors, indomitable spirit. That room was sexier than any place he could have dreamed up on his own.
    He buried his face in the coarse wool army blanket and let the fantasy unfold. He kissed the salty tears off her cheeks, and she opened and clung to him as he devoured her tender mouth. He knelt down and nuzzled the warmth of that velvety strip of skin between the T-shirt and the waistband of her jeans that had so tantalized him tonight. He popped the buttons of the jeans open and tongued her navel as he dragged those jeans and panties down over her curvy hips, her round ass. Slowly, inch by precious inch, reveling in her hot female smell: baby powder and flower petal and ocean salt. He breathed it, in big, greedy gulps. He peeled every scrap of clothing away until she was naked, arms held out to him, her eyes soft with trust.
    Yeah. Trust. He shoved away the derisive voices in his head. This was his fantasy, and he'd run it how he damn well pleased.
    She trembled as he put his arms around her from behind and explored the exquisite, plump fullness of her breasts. Vivid details were imprinted in his mind as if they were memories, not fantasies. Her nipples puckered against his hand, tender buttons of flesh aching to be tongued and suckled. Her hair clip pulled loose, and her glossy hair tumbled and slid across her shoulders like a swath of dark satin.
    He slid his hand over the rounded swell of her belly, delving into her dark thatch, searching for hidden treasure in the wet, secret heat of her cleft. She tightened around his fingers and flung her head back against his shoulder, squirming and whimpering with pleasure.
    He pushed her down onto the bed and pushed her soft thighs until they sprawled apart. He cupped her rosy ass cheeks, kissed and tongued the folds and hollows between her legs, the electric fuzz of dark hair. He opened her like a dripping fruit with his tongue, sliding it along the glistening, succulent folds of her labia, wallowing in her colors and flavors. Lazy and slow, taking his time. Suckling her clit, flicking and lashing it with his tongue. He would bury his head between her thighs and thrust his tongue deep. He would make her buck and writhe and press her cunt against his face, until she jerked and sobbed and came.
    And then he would do it all again.
    Usually he finished himself off with the next logical step; clambering over her damp body and shoving himself into her quivering depths, sliding deeper and slicker with each thrust until his orgasm thundered through him. Tonight, he didn't get that far. He came along with her imagined orgasm, the pillow muffling his cry as he spurted into the washcloth. He pressed his face against the pillow, breath heaving.
    When he lifted his head, he was startled to find his face wet with tears. That was weird. He wiped his cheek and stared at his wet hand for over a minute, but he was too tired to be overly freaked out about it.
    He cleaned up in the back bathroom, dragged the blanket over himself and sank like a stone into real, honest-to-God sleep.
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Chapter Four

     
    "Sure, I can drop by and take care of kitty. No problem," Tonia said. "I have to come by really early, though. That OK?"
    "Sure. I always wake up at the crack of dawn anyway when I have to catch a plane. Thank you so much, Tonia. You're an