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Nipping. Elle cried out as his hands ran along her body. Heat was radiating from his fingertips. Fire seemed to settle where he touched. He kissed her flat stomach, massaging her butt as he did so. She inhaled deeply, her breath catching as his hands gripped her thighs. Alex looked at her. She held his eyes. He smiled wickedly. Standing there. Doing nothing. She couldn’t move. She was breathing hard. He loved it. The wetness between her thighs confirmed she did as well. He bent down, kissing her left thigh. Then her right. His hands grazed her cunt. Elle’s hips bucked. She was moaning. His teasing was driving her nuts. His mouth found her center core. Eagerly he licked her, kissing her clit. He sucked it. Harder, then lightly nipping. Elle was crying out now. Her moans of pleasure could not be silenced. Alex answered her cries with his fingers, filling her hole. She bucked against his hand, as his mouth returned to her clit. Alex momentarily stopped. Taking a moment to stare at. His heart could not handle the loss. He threw himself, from then on, into a furious schedule of long work hours, brutal work-outs, and as much sleep as he could muster, with weekends rounded out through travel to historical battlefields or other landmarks--anything to resist the relentless indications of karma’s apparent personal grievance with him. He was not interested in being reminded. But there she was. Was this destiny coming to deliver the final coup de grace? She seemed nervous, and he knew he really ought to be. “Carrie?” he asked, almost as if to no one. “Hi, Alex. This is so strange.” She looked down, as if she were suddenly reconsidering the conversation. "Yes, it is. Wow,” he stammered. He had an inclination to look upward, almost as if to curse whatever deity felt compelled to fuck with him so mercilessly. “How are you?” “How are you, Alex? I read about…uhhh...well, you know…in the paper. I wanted to call you. I really, really wanted to call you, but I figured it would.
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