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Chapter or Story 
Chapter or Story
See Part 1 for disclaimer.
A/N: Hey, two posts in two days! It's amazing what one can accomplish when NOT working ten hour days while sick. It's brief but it was the right place to stop. Read on and you'll understand.
Brand New Year, Part 13
By Ginger
He gazed into her eyes as his long, elegant fingers moved languorously across her sweat dampened skin. It was becoming a regular habit of his; when most other men would be on their way to the land of nod, Jarod would spend several minutes lightly sweeping his fingertips over her belly, across her shoulders, down her arms, and anywhere else he could reach, prolonging the highly pleasurable sensations of the erotic moment they'd just shared. It was so loving, intimate and silent as he conveyed everything with his eyes and his fingertips; she felt truly adored.
At first Miranda had been unnerved by these unilateral displays of affection. The tenderness of his touch, the intensity of his gaze, would become too much to bear and panic would rise in her chest, compelling her to reach out to touch him back. But that wasn't what he wanted. He wanted to worship her, consume her, own her. He wanted everything.
His eyelids began to grow heavy, his hand slowing and finally coming to rest possessively on her hip. Only when his eyes fluttered closed for good did she reach over to stroke his cheek. Mapping the features of his handsome face, she sighed. She loved watching him drift into unconsciousness, his expression peaceful and innocent like a beautiful, dark angel.
Miranda had made up her mind on the long ride to Miami. She wanted Jarod; she wanted this. But after a month of prancing around half-naked, stealing his clothing and sleeping beside him, she had begun to wonder if both she and Emily had misread him. Of course, there wasn't a rule that said she couldn't make the first move, and doing so would have hardly been unprecedented, but she had decided against it at the outset. Part of it was fear of rejection, and part of it was fear that he'd only be going through the motions, doing what he thought all mommies and daddies should do. Instead she'd waited and waited and waited, until he finally made the first move and gave her all the assurance and confidence she needed to make the second.
Here it was, a month later, and he'd lost none of his ardor. He wasn't content to make love to her at night (and in the morning) in their bed with a frequency that would make him the envy of most men his age. Jarod seemed to take particular delight in an afternoon frolic whenever, and wherever, the opportunity presented itself. As it had today on the porch.
* * * *
Michael was so tired after their hike that he practically fell asleep in his lunch. Miranda was about to carry him out to the porch for his nap when Jarod intoned,
"Let's put him down in his crib. He shouldn't have any trouble falling asleep."
She acquiesed with a nod and a sly smile. Apparently Daddy wanted some al fresco time with Mommy, and wasn't interested in being quiet about it. After putting their son down and reporting that he was asleep before his head hit the pillow, Jarod dutifully set up the audio and video receivers for the baby monitor, which he had driven all the way to Jan José to purchase the day after Valentine's Day.
She was standing at the kitchen sink when she heard him croon, "Oh, Andi... I seem to recall mention of sensory stimulation."
Grinning she dried her hands and strolled over to the doorway to reply, "If I remember correctly, you're the one who mentioned it."
"So I did," he purred then grabbed her hand and pulled her out onto the porch to have his wicked, wicked way with her. Neither of them were quiet about it.
* * * *
"Finally wore you out," she whispered with a smile to the gorgeous man sleeping naked beside her on the rug.
Stretching, she moaned softly when she located a few pleasingly sore muscles then blinked up at the ceiling, wondering what time it was. A glance at the small video monitor confirmed what the silence told her: Michael was still asleep. But he probably wouldn't be for long, and she was thirsty, so she carefully maneuvered out of Jarod's embrace and stood up. Eyeing the array of clothing scattered about the room, she picked up the shirt Jarod had been wearing and slipped it on, buttoning it closed as she paced into the kitchen in search of something cold to drink.
A glass of juice in hand, Miranda padded across the living room to gaze out the front window. Something caught her eye and she squinted to get a better look. As the object of her attention came into focus, she nearly dropped her glass and gasped,
"Oh, my God!"
# # # #
A/N: Hey, two posts in two days! It's amazing what one can accomplish when NOT working ten hour days while sick. It's brief but it was the right place to stop. Read on and you'll understand.
Brand New Year, Part 13
By Ginger
He gazed into her eyes as his long, elegant fingers moved languorously across her sweat dampened skin. It was becoming a regular habit of his; when most other men would be on their way to the land of nod, Jarod would spend several minutes lightly sweeping his fingertips over her belly, across her shoulders, down her arms, and anywhere else he could reach, prolonging the highly pleasurable sensations of the erotic moment they'd just shared. It was so loving, intimate and silent as he conveyed everything with his eyes and his fingertips; she felt truly adored.
At first Miranda had been unnerved by these unilateral displays of affection. The tenderness of his touch, the intensity of his gaze, would become too much to bear and panic would rise in her chest, compelling her to reach out to touch him back. But that wasn't what he wanted. He wanted to worship her, consume her, own her. He wanted everything.
His eyelids began to grow heavy, his hand slowing and finally coming to rest possessively on her hip. Only when his eyes fluttered closed for good did she reach over to stroke his cheek. Mapping the features of his handsome face, she sighed. She loved watching him drift into unconsciousness, his expression peaceful and innocent like a beautiful, dark angel.
Miranda had made up her mind on the long ride to Miami. She wanted Jarod; she wanted this. But after a month of prancing around half-naked, stealing his clothing and sleeping beside him, she had begun to wonder if both she and Emily had misread him. Of course, there wasn't a rule that said she couldn't make the first move, and doing so would have hardly been unprecedented, but she had decided against it at the outset. Part of it was fear of rejection, and part of it was fear that he'd only be going through the motions, doing what he thought all mommies and daddies should do. Instead she'd waited and waited and waited, until he finally made the first move and gave her all the assurance and confidence she needed to make the second.
Here it was, a month later, and he'd lost none of his ardor. He wasn't content to make love to her at night (and in the morning) in their bed with a frequency that would make him the envy of most men his age. Jarod seemed to take particular delight in an afternoon frolic whenever, and wherever, the opportunity presented itself. As it had today on the porch.
* * * *
Michael was so tired after their hike that he practically fell asleep in his lunch. Miranda was about to carry him out to the porch for his nap when Jarod intoned,
"Let's put him down in his crib. He shouldn't have any trouble falling asleep."
She acquiesed with a nod and a sly smile. Apparently Daddy wanted some al fresco time with Mommy, and wasn't interested in being quiet about it. After putting their son down and reporting that he was asleep before his head hit the pillow, Jarod dutifully set up the audio and video receivers for the baby monitor, which he had driven all the way to Jan José to purchase the day after Valentine's Day.
She was standing at the kitchen sink when she heard him croon, "Oh, Andi... I seem to recall mention of sensory stimulation."
Grinning she dried her hands and strolled over to the doorway to reply, "If I remember correctly, you're the one who mentioned it."
"So I did," he purred then grabbed her hand and pulled her out onto the porch to have his wicked, wicked way with her. Neither of them were quiet about it.
* * * *
"Finally wore you out," she whispered with a smile to the gorgeous man sleeping naked beside her on the rug.
Stretching, she moaned softly when she located a few pleasingly sore muscles then blinked up at the ceiling, wondering what time it was. A glance at the small video monitor confirmed what the silence told her: Michael was still asleep. But he probably wouldn't be for long, and she was thirsty, so she carefully maneuvered out of Jarod's embrace and stood up. Eyeing the array of clothing scattered about the room, she picked up the shirt Jarod had been wearing and slipped it on, buttoning it closed as she paced into the kitchen in search of something cold to drink.
A glass of juice in hand, Miranda padded across the living room to gaze out the front window. Something caught her eye and she squinted to get a better look. As the object of her attention came into focus, she nearly dropped her glass and gasped,
"Oh, my God!"
# # # #
