Sensitive ~ Paranormal Erotica

SENSITIVE

An Erotic Paranormal Story

by Derendrea

This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to
actual people or events is purely coincidental. This is copyrighted
work. Do not replicate it or distribute without written permission
from the author. Brief quotes may be used for a review or
critique.

© 2012 Derendrea Books

Smashwords Edition

“
Are you sure this is what
you want?”

I wrapped my legs around his waist. Leaning
my head back, I pulled his face against my neck. Jordan obliged,
kissing and taking my skin in his mouth. Pressing me against his
body, Jordan started to walk toward the bed. My excitement
heightened. I pressed my pelvis against his solid abdomen.

“
You affect my more than
anyone I have ever known,” Jordan stated, pulling up from my
neck.

Did I hear him right?

“
I affect you?” I stared
into his dark eyes. “Are you serious?”

He lowered me to the edge of the bed and
kneeled before me. “Very.”

His hands ran along the outside of my
thighs, across my hips, then wrapped around my back. He slipped
under my shirt and ran his warm hands across my back, but then
stopped.

“
I should warn
you...”

I pressed my finger against his lips.

“
Shh...” Leaning forward,
I replaced my finger with my mouth.

Jordan leaned against me and resumed his
work on my back. He pressed deep with his palms, running up and
down the length of my spine. Halfway up my back, I realized he was
removing my shirt. Deftly he pulled it off my arms and we stopped
kissing briefly to remove it completely.

I wasn’t wearing a bra, but instead of
letting myself be self-conscious I reached for the bottom of his
shirt. My fingers traced over his smooth abdomen, across his navel,
over his defined abs and pecs, up to where it was sprinkled with
chest hair.

Jordan lifted his arms as I peeled it off of
him. He shook back his long hair, looking more native when relieved
of his shirt. The back of his hands ran down my arms, his eyes
following his touch, lingering on my breasts, then down to my
stomach. His hands dipped down, lightly rubbing the V where my legs
pressed together. One hand rose again, caressing my midline,
brushing my breasts, then up my chest to my neck. I tilted my head
back, moving with his hand. His fingertips grazed my moist lips. My
eyelids fluttered at the sensation. His fingers lifted and I licked
my lips, tasting his husky saltiness.

What are you doing? You barely know him.

I grabbed his belt, spread my legs, and
pulled him against me.

I’m about to get to know him a lot
better.

EARLIER THAT MORNING

God, it was hot. Sweat slicked my body as
soon as I stepped out of my car. I regretted wearing my black pants
and double layer of silk shirts. This weather was meant for a knee
length skirt, sandals, and a tank top. I could have never worn that
to the meeting I had that morning, and I didn’t have time to change
before I was expected back at work.

The parking lot of the university was packed
full. Being an associate professor didn’t allow me my own parking
space, so I was forced to hash it out with the college students for
the limited spaces. Gazing past the rows of parked cars I sighed
and started the long hike up the hill to the social sciences
building.

I checked my watch. 9:12. If I hurried, I
could make it before my next class started. I knew the joke among
the students. If a professor with a doctorate was late, wait five
minutes. If an associate professor was late, don’t wait at all.

The parking lot was void of life. There was
the variety of college students’ vehicles: some whose parents
provided them with far too much money, and some who worked an extra
job just to put gas in their clunker.

I never liked showing up late. Even though I
had a very good excuse, the meeting was required for renewing my
license, I felt queasy and guilty, like I was a high school student
skipping class.

Adrenaline made my heart race. I was used to
my feelings, and the intense physical reactions that accompanied
them. Studying psychology, I dubbed myself with having a “sensitive
personality type”. Easily overwhelmed, can’t stand lots of people,
exaggerates situations. Oh, and a highly active imagination.

Just get to
class
, I told myself.
Once you get inside you’ll feel better.
I also talk to myself. Borderline personality
disorder.

I checked my watch. 9:14.
In a few minutes the halls and parking lot would be crowded with a
rush of students going to their next class or leaving
campus.
Great.
I
usually could control my agoraphobia, but today the thought of
elbowing through talkative college students made me
nauseated.

Relieved, I climbed the short set of stairs
to the last parking lot, my eyes on the victorian style building at
the top of the hill.

I was almost there, but my
feet stopped moving. From my right I saw a dark vehicle circling
the lot. I shook my head.
Good luck
finding a parking place here.

I willfully lifted my foot from the
pavement, but stopped again when the boxy vehicle turned my way.
The vehicle was too long to park here anyway. It was a black hummer
with an extra window between the front and passenger doors. What
was it doing here?

I felt faint when the vehicle slowed to a
stop in front of me, and the moistness pressing against my panties
tingled. The hummer had a government feel to it. The body wasn’t
decorated with chrome accessories, the tires were grooved with mud
grips, but weren’t over-the-top huge. My breath caught in my throat
when the driver’s window electronically rolled down. I was utterly
alone in the parking lot. If the driver had bad intentions...

Stop being paranoid.

“
Excuse me,” the driver
stated. The absence of “ma’am” and his nondescript accent suggested
he wasn’t from the south. That didn’t surprise me, since the
university attracted people from a variety of places. What made me
nervous was his hair and clothing. His blond hair was buzz shaved
and his skin was tone and tan. He wore a plain, new looking black
t-shirt.
Military.
Though the windows of the hummer were pitch black, I had the
sense he wasn’t the only one in the vehicle.

My spine prickled. I had a strong urge to
run around the vehicle toward the safety of the buildings.
Etiquette, however, dictated I respond.

“
Yes?” my voice shook.
Being out of breath and about to have a heat stroke didn’t help me
sound collected.

“
We’ve gotten turned
around. Can you direct us back to Highway 110?”

And you ended up
here?
My nerves were on fire. Something
was wrong. I tried to swallow but my throat was too
tight.

He had said “we”, so it
wasn’t rude for me to move at a different angle to see the
passenger. The man in the passenger seat didn’t look up from the
flat screen tablet on his lap. He had brown hair cut in a similar
style, maybe slightly older, and a similar black shirt. No, the
exact same shirt.
Holy crap.

My body was shaking when I started to answer
him. “You have to go back out to the street and take a right.” I
gestured toward the entrance of the parking lot, but as I did I saw
the hummer’s back door opening.

Shit!
Figures rushed out of the door like a swat team. Something
primal kicked in and I transformed from a deer caught in the
headlights to one running away from a predator. I lunged forward,
my only thought to get away from these men, whatever they were
doing.

I was about to round the bumper of the
hummer when a strong hand grabbed my arm. My eyes scanned the
parking lot as I spun around, but no one was out there to help me.
I swung at my captor with my purse but my wrist was caught before I
hit anything. For a moment I thought I was dead. I looked around
for a gun, but none of them held one. There were three men, all in
black shirts. I didn’t have time to notice anything else about them
when a black cloth wrapped around my face.

They started to drag me back toward the rear
of the hummer. My boots skidded against the pavement. They didn’t
hurt me, but their grips were tight on my arms. I angled my legs
and pushed down my feet to halt them. If I could delay them long
enough someone would have to see I was being abducted. I clenched
my hands together in front of my chest and jerked my body back and
forth. Growing up with three brothers had taught me a few
things.

I could feel a man on
either side of me, forcing my hands behind my back with
synchronized movements. Another of them tightly wrapped his arms
around my legs.
SHIT!
I struggled against them as they lifted me
together.

I couldn’t tell where I was, but I knew they
hadn’t gotten me inside their vehicle yet because I could still
feel the hot sun through my clothes. The grips under my arms
shifted and I managed to pitch my elbow outward, hoping to hit one
of them in a sensitive area.

Instead, it cracked against unforgiving
metal. Intense pain jolted through my arm and I cried out.

“
Damn it,” a male voice
muttered. They were lifting me inside the vehicle.
Scream, you idiot!
But I
couldn’t make a sound as my body spasmed with agony.