Eric didn’t know whether to be shocked, offended or just plain flattered. He slowly walked around the nude sculpture that so closely resembled him. He knew how his body looked; he had worked hard to get the muscle definition that he had. And here it was in specific, minute detail. And the look on the face was so obviously that of an aroused man, the hooded eyes – the piercing gaze. The statute was labeled ‘Angel’, by Evangeline Martel. How odd. No one else in Austin knew about his middle name, or how special it was to him. He was flabbergasted. The lightning bolt scar was in the exact place that it was on his body; a product of an eight year old boy and his four wheeler’s run-in with a barbwire fence. But what stood out the most, literally, was the fact that he – – uh, the statute was extremely well endowed. Eric smiled. Someone sure had his measurements down pat!
The crowd was coming alive. It was full of guys that knew him, fire guys, city guys, EMT’s – they all knew one another. And they were cutting him no slack. They held nothing back in the hoo-raw department. “Eric, you are our hero!” one of them exclaimed.
“Do you think they’ll ask you to pose for Playgirl?”
Knowing his alma mater was the University of Texas, another one exclaimed. “It’s about time the world knew how long a Longhorn really is!”
“Go look at the other sculpture, Eric,” a faceless voice in the crowd instructed him. So he did. The first piece had surprised him; after all, the sight of one’s own naked body in an unsuspecting place was enough to get anyone’s undivided attention. But what he saw next took his breath away. Obviously, the man was him also; there really was no mistaking that. This one showed him in the throes of coitus; legs in a widened stance, supporting a woman in his arms, her legs wrapped around his waist, obviously fully impaled on his shaft. The woman had her arms around him, hiding her face in his neck, a braid hanging to the middle of her back. Eric was stunned! This was her! The woman of his dreams. He would have recognized that body anywhere – and her hair – it was all so familiar. Eric’s heartbeat was going nuts! This was the most erotic thing he had ever seen in his life! Suddenly, he wished his pants weren’t quite so tight. He refused to look down to see how big of a show he was putting on. He turned to walk through the crowd, intent on finding someone who could point out the artist who had put all of his goods on display. Did she know his dream-girl? Maybe, this was the answer to that midnight yearning that had been about to drive him mad.
He began to be conscious of the stares and whispers of the crowd that encircled him and the pair of bronzes. He turned to look around and WHAM! Jessica slapped the crap out of him! “Looks likes I wasn’t the only one cheating!” Jessica huffed off and Eric rubbed his jaw, glad to see her go. He was much more interested in exactly who the artist was that had carved his extra-large penis for the whole of Austin to see. This Evangeline Martel sure had some explaining to do! He needed to go check his bedroom for very small cameras.
The crowd parted again. But, this time there was someone at the other end of the man-made pathway. They might as well get out of the way, he was coming through. Then, he saw her.
She was just standing there, looking straight at him.
She appeared to be waiting on him.
Did he know her? She seemed familiar. Eric searched his memory, but came up empty. Hell, he wanted to know her! She looked so familiar . . . . .so . . . . .
She was not just beautiful, she was delectable. Wearing a knee length, sequined, midnight blue dress with a low scoop neckline and short sleeves, she was completely and utterly feminine. And that dark hair – so like the woman of his fantasies!
He noticed she was standing close to the Congressman’s wife – Arabella Landale – and it was obvious they were related. They were very similar; in their coloring and in their expression. But the object of his desire, she was different; wonderful, in ways that he could not put his finger on. She was no more than five-six, but perfectly, exquisitely curved.
Their eyes met. And for a moment, he saw hunger and yearning in her gaze. Every cell in his body screamed out for her. There was total recognition in every fiber of his being. He watched her shut her eyes, as if gathering strength. Then, she turned her back on him. Her hair hung in a seductive braid to the middle of her back, the long dark tresses intertwined with dark blue ribbon that was dusted with rhinestones.
That braid! He had just seen that braid! His nighttime princess had that braid!!
The sight caused his gut to wrench, the woman in the second statue – the one that was carved in his arms – making love to him -the woman driving him crazy night after night – – was her! Eric was mesmerized. Then it dawned on him. This was the artist! This must be Evangeline Martel! Somehow, he and this woman had a connection that he couldn’t begin to understand.
Nothing in the world could have prevented him from going to her. He stopped about three feet from her. Oblivious to the crowd he approached her. “There you are.” God, he wanted to lick his lips. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you, sweetheart. Turn around and look at me.”
She stood still one moment longer, her back to him. He hungrily took in her form, from the top of her head, the luscious curve of her bottom, to the small bare feet encased in what looked to him like glass slippers. Then she turned to face him. At first, it seemed as if she was trying to be composed and business like – but then something broke in her expression and she stepped right up to him. Reaching out, she put her small hand on his cheek, caressing it so very lightly. Then she leaned up and whispered in his ear. “Are you real? Or did I conjure you?”
Conjure, that was a word his mother used. He didn’t take the time to analyze the implications. “Oh, I’m real baby. Would you like to pinch me and find out?”
A rosy blush rose from her neck and enveloped her cheeks. “Yes.” The one word answer hung between them. Desire was so thick it could have been cut with a knife.
Much to Eric‘s surprise, she picked up his hand and caressed the palm. Her touch was saying ‘take me’, but her words were saying something else. “I am so sorry; I never meant to hurt you. Was that woman your girlfriend? If you will go get her, I can explain. I can fix this.”
Eric didn’t want her to fix this. What he wanted; was her. But he didn’t intend for anymore of his business to be public knowledge. He whispered where only she could hear. “I need to talk to you. Now. In private.” She seemed to hesitate. “I want to do things to you that no one else needs to see. If you don’t want to shock every person in this room, I would suggest you get us to some place more secluded. Now.” His voice was much gruffer than he intended it to be. His passion was running extremely high.
Eric had never felt so turned on in his entire life. The crowd was dead quiet. They were all straining to hear any word that passed between them. Everyone was aware that Eric McAllister was standing face to face with the woman who seemed to have an intimate knowledge of his body and was brave enough to declare it to the world. She hadn’t moved, so Eric took the initiative. He grasped her hand and led her off to one side and into a conference room, slamming the door behind them. Clenching his hands into tight fists, he fought to keep his hands off of her. But she looked so upset, he stepped back and waited, watching her, giving her time to compose herself.
“You have every right to be angry. I should have thought this through; there are always consequences to our actions. I’ve manipulated your life. Can you ever forgive me?” Closing her eyes, she seemed to be trying to regain control. “I know I owe you an explanation, but you probably don’t want to hear anything I have to say. Suffice it to say, that I am deeply sorry to have caused a problem for you and your girlfriend.”
He had no idea what she was talking about – he liked her kind of manipulation. “She’s not my girlfriend, not anymore, sweetheart.” He couldn’t stop looking at this beautiful woman.
“How did you know what I look like naked, who gave you the photograph?” He didn’t really care; he just wanted to watch her lips form the words as she answered him.
“I didn’t have a picture, I . . . . .I had a dream about you. God, that sounds stupid, doesn’t it?”
Sable Hunter writes romance, some of it quite spicy. She writes what she likes to read and enjoys putting her fantasies on paper. Her stories are emotional reads where the heroine is faced with challenges, like one of her favorite songs – she’s holding out for a hero – and boy, can she deliver a hero. Her aim is to write a story that will make you laugh, cry and sweat. If she can wring those emotions out of a reader, then she has done her job.
She combines the cultures of her two favorite states into many of her stories – from the mysterious bayous of Louisiana where the Spanish moss hangs thickly over the dark waters to the rolling hill country of central Texas. She is passionate about animals and has been known to charm creatures from a one ton bull to a family of raccoons. For fun, Sable has been known to haunt cemeteries and battlefields armed with night-vision cameras and digital recorders hunting proof that love survives beyond the grave.
Join her in her world of magic, alpha heroes, sexy cowboys and hot, steamy, to-die-for sex. Step into the shoes of her heroines and escape to places where dreams can come true and orgasms only come in multiples.