Hard Day - Harder Night

Island Girl

Rating: NC17
Genres: Romance
Relationships: Lily & James
Book: Lily & James, Books 1 - 6
Published: 24/01/2006
Last Updated: 25/03/2006
Status: completed

An ugly day, a reprieve and passion's sensual promise. A Lily and James story set after Hogwarts but before they move to Godric's Hollow. Please review - I normally write for H/Hr and this is just outside my area of 'expertise'! Special Thank Yous to Allie and MC!

Chapters

1. Ownership

2. Another Chapter

1. Ownership

This is based on the FIRST original work I had ever published.

I would really appreciate any thoughts or feedback you might have. I would really love to read YOUR thoughts!

THANK YOU!

Allie and MC – this is for you! No one could ask for truer partners in writing. YOU BOTH ROCK!

Ownership:

Cranking up the volume on the radio was more of an act of defiance than anything else. ‘Just try to say something’ was what was conveyed by the act of blaring the loudest song on the quietest of streets. Yanking the car through its gears was more violence than anything else. Speeding was the sum of the prior two factors. Healthy doses of righteous indignation gave her a feeling of entitlement.

The day had gone from bad to worse over the course of the last twelve hours. Mild agitation progressed to hostile outrage, which was fuelled by a steady supply of poor decisions (made by others) and pure stupidity. The final breaking point was actually something minor. A conflict over procedure, trivial at the most, was what made her explode. Nonetheless, when added to the day’s events, those were the sparks that set off her temper.

Adrenaline surged and doors crashed into jambs ferociously. Opinions were voiced in such a way that people in the next building could have heard. Stony silence was the only language offered after the dust settled. The day finally ended and no one was speaking to one another. The unspoken agreement to leave without a parting phrase was for mutual preservation. If anyone were to say anything to anybody, all that would happen would be a re-enactment of the violent confrontation that took place earlier that day. Everyone just wanted to go home.

Clicking off the headlights, her head thumped the headrest of the car seat. The backside of being completely irate is the emotional hangover that sets in almost as soon as one has time to think about what transpired. Her head drooped with tiredness – the sound coming from the radio cut out as abruptly as the car was turned off. It had been a long day. Shame flooded her being as she recalled how her behaviour contributed to the day’s events. Resignation settled into her fingers as she pulled the set of keys free of the ignition.

Deftly trading her car key for her house key, she twisted the lock on her front door and pushed the door open with a twitch that originated with her elbow. Dropping the key chain on the coffee table, she lifted her purse from her shoulder and shrugged out of her leather coat in one practised motion. Without a passing thought, both items were thrown across the back of same chair, one after another.

Using the heel of one trainer to pry the other foot free, shoes were quickly shed. Feet lost their inner protective layer and she stuffed her socks into the vacancy of her shoes.

Pausing in mid-stride, her fingers found the tab of her skirt. A muted zipping sound freed her hips. A moment of apathy retreated in the wake of compulsive neatness; she scooped the garment off the floor and draped it on top of her jacket. Her shirt, camisole, and knickers softly piled on top of her skirt.

The overhead lighting was too much – it was one more reminder of the ugliness of earlier. The soft glow of scented candles scattered strategically gave enough light to navigate. Not that she needed to see, she could walk her apartment blindfolded. The way the flames flickered in the wake of her movements, casting different patterns against the soft-white walls was like a first-aid balm applied to her psyche. The first step in freeing her mind from the day was cooling her thoughts and smoothing out her emotions.

Sighing with pleasure at the aroma of myrrh, she stepped up two steps and into the bathroom. Thoughts of a long hot shower were scrapped in favour of a long hot bath. Turning the temperature to as hot as she could tolerate, she flipped the lever and watched for a moment as the tub began to fill. Smiling was not an option – yet. Nevertheless, with her fingers holding a now-empty vial of scented oil over a quickly filling, steaming tub, she knew that she would heal. Laughter, pleasure, and joy were loyal lovers who would not abandon her for long.

The freedom she felt padding around her apartment naked was easily transferred to the hot, scented water of her bath. The bathroom door was left wide open – the visual of the steam curling about the ceiling and muting the glow of the candles was placating. It was a sigh of emotional release that sounded in the dimly lit bathroom. Her muscles relaxed as her body shuddered and adjusted to a new environment. Sweat popped out in the form of tiny beads at the base of her neck and crowded one another in the valley between her breasts. Her skin tightened and then released as the water lapped and caressed her body.

*** *** *** *** ***

The dotted yellow lines of the highway flowed under the hood of the rental car. Expertly controlling the vehicle, slower moving cars became distant pinpoints of lights in the rear-view mirror. Talk radio was broadcasting from the centre console, but the noise had the sole purpose of keeping his mind on the road. Not on what he would do when he reached his destination. He understood her need to be where she was. After all, this arrangement was only temporary.

Blaring horns and angry gestures from other motorists reminded him to keep his imagination in check when driving. The talk show host was presenting another discussion; there would be plenty of time for fantasies later. He was not worried. He was making excellent time. The traffic was not hindering his progress and twice he barrelled past speed traps. The highway patrols were not interested in pursuing him. It was almost as if they knew how important it was that he get to where he was going.

Rotaries, normally ugly affairs, were easily negotiated. Even construction on the bridge did not cause his gauge to drop below the posted speed limit. Catching sight of the sign that bore the name of his destination caused his heart to do a little flip-flop.

Being thankful for good parking karma, he left his car in the lot directly in front of the ferry terminal. There was a boat ‘in dock’ and it was scheduled to leave in just a few moments. Catching an earlier boat meant he would be on the Island that much sooner. The best part was that she did not even know he was coming.

Pulling into port less than an hour later, the jarring he felt as the boat settled into its slip did not register to him. The fact that he was somewhere in the middle of the line to disembark did not matter. The creak of the gangplank as he walked off the ferry was inconsequential. Other things occupied his mind. Things – plans, really – that were put on hold for the sake of safe driving were now free to be entertained. Considered. Re-evaluated. The short walk to her apartment was far enough for finalization.

Pulling as quietly as he could, he knew that she never locked her door. He propped the storm door open with his hip and pushed the inside door free of the jamb. Ever so gently, as to not make a sound, he shut the door. This was going to be their moment. Needs were going to be met. Securing the lock meant guaranteeing that there would be no interruptions.

A smile creased his face as his eyes took in the leather jacket slung casually across a chair as well as the trainers with socks poking out of the heels. Inhaling the scent of the lighted candles, the name of the fragrance was elusive. Another aroma was in the air – combining with the scent the wicks released. The soothing, erotic effect it was having on his body was definitive.

The sound of water lapping was the best indicator of where he would find her. The small sounds emanating from the bathroom hinted at what she was doing. Did she know the kind of effect those kinds of sounds had on his libido? Since she did not know he was there, there was no way she could know. He would just have to tell her… later.

Peering around the corner of the open door, he was not prepared for what was three arm lengths away.

Immersed to her ears in bath water – that was the reason why she had not heard him come into the apartment. Her long hair fanned out in the most provocative way around her head. Eyes were shut and her soft mouth was slightly parted in the sensual freedom of her bath. Her breasts floated with their own buoyancy. Her nipples broke the surface; her areolas furled with passive arousal. The hot water and slightly cooler air pulled her tips tight. Completely covered by the hot, scented were the sweet swells of her hips. Her legs were propped up against the wall to accommodate her length. The soft, water-darkened hair that marked the junction of her thighs swayed like hundreds of tiny fingers beckoning for his touch. The lapping sound he heard was her – lifting her hands over her head, stretching, arching her back, settling her body more completely under the water. Water found its own way around and over her body as it flowed with the aid of gravity. The vision of that body being pulled tight and taut scattered his thoughts.

Knowing that she had not seen him yet, he backtracked into the dimly lit bedroom. Remembering how she liked to take his clothes off, he divested himself of his clothing. As his clothes piled, he silently promised to give her other pleasures. Arranging himself on the futon adjacent to her bed, he did the hardest thing yet that night. He waited for her to emerge from a bathroom that was mere feet away.

*** *** *** *** ***

The separateness she felt when in the water, the way her mind wandered to nothingness as the scalding heat and the decadence of private time pulled everything she had gone through throughout the day from her body and soul. It was with a real smile that she flexed her foot and hit the release lever. It was with genuine gratitude she watched her day flow down the drain.

Preferring to air dry, to allow the scented water to permeate her skin just that much more, she wrapped her hair in the towel she pulled from the stack. Stepping down the two steps, she shut her eyes as she took the towel away from her hair. Still walking, she strode into her bedroom.

Instinctively, she knew when she reached her bureau. Behind her was her futon, her bed and bookshelf. Aiming for a spot on the rug between the door and the bureau, she tossed the towel aside. Picking up her hairbrush and tipping her head upside-down, she began to rake out the snarls. Taking a step backwards and nearly folding herself in half, her arm was raised and extended rhythmically. A wonderful smell of myrrh, bath water, and clean body enveloped her. For the first time all day, she felt ready to be human.

*** *** *** *** ***

He had always told her that he would love to just sit in a chair and just watch her: to look at her in all of her naked womanliness.

She had given him that gift without being aware of it.

He heard the eruption of water and could almost see the rivulets of water running down the length of her body. Imagining the ‘what is it like’ is very different from actually witnessing first-hand. He saw her stride into the room, flushed pink from the intensely hot water and glowing in the diffused candlelight. When she turned her back to him to flip her hair upside down and upturned that bottom that he knew so well towards him, it was an invitation he could not pass up.

Her hand rose to stroke out another length of hair. He made his move.

Rising to stand behind her, he took the hairbrush from her startled hand. He could feel her bewilderment, a sense of fear. Until, he reached for her neck and pulled her nose towards him. Making sure she smelled his distinctive cologne. Nestling himself against her bottom, he slid his hands around the curve of her waist, bringing his fingers together just underneath her ribcage before separating his hands and pulling her upright. He re-committed to memory the outline of her breasts, the contours of her throat and the curve of her spine.

She was hot. She felt like a hot coal. She is all mine, he growled.

He draped his hands over the curves of her shoulders, over the plateau of her stomach, down the sweet dip of her waist and fanned his fingers over the flare of her hips.

She responded to him instantly, pressing her moisture-slick back against the expanse of his chest, and snaking an arm behind his neck to pull his mouth to where her neck and body met.

Using pressure that was far from subtle, he pivoted her slightly and pressed his knees behind her legs in an unspoken command to walk the three steps it took to reach the edge of the bed. Pushing her forward, he watched her brace her fall with her elbows and reflexively grab fistfuls of the bedspread.

The dark, downy hairs that had now twice eluded him – once in the tub and second when she bent in half to brush out her snarls – were now splayed out before him once again. Pulling away from her body just a half a step, he wanted to see her splayed out for him. To see the backs of her legs spread apart, her thighs gaping, the subtle light picking up the shimmer of her arousal. Slipping his fingers along the full length of her cleft, he found that she was as slippery as a waterweed.

Her breath was coming short, just like his own. Whatever control they both had been exerting was ebbing fast.

“Do it!” Her pant was a feral command.

Only one word escaped his lips as he thrust his fingers into her slickness. One word echoed in the apartment as the same juices that flowed copiously, he used to slather his cock. One word followed him reaching for more of her wetness to apply to her entire vulva. A forceful claim, re-enforced by the way she squirmed and bucked as he stroked and pinched her clit. Four letters hissed past his tongue and teeth as he plunged into her depths – her internal muscles sucking on his member. One word reverberated into her ear as he pressed himself against her tightness for even deeper penetration. His one vocalization caused her entire body to clench and undulate against the passion that was cleaving her buttocks.

“MINE!”

*** *** *** *** ***

MINE was the only word, mantra, thought that wrapped around her mind and translated to the pounding he gave the sweet cheeks beneath his thighs. She answered his bucking by slamming her ass into his pelvis as she tried to take him even deeper. Her hand reached out. It sought purchase – better leverage. Bracing against the bed, she locked her quad muscles. Her back arched, her wet hair separating into tendrils that danced between her shoulder blades. She smelled his sweat mingle with the perfume of her bath water. The feel of him lodged so powerfully inside her sent another wave of sensation her pussy. When his fingers found her full breasts woefully unattended, the moans coming from her mouth as he rectified the situation nearly buckled her rhythm.

It was no more than a dozen strokes when she felt his release begin. He fell forward, his whole weight landed across her back. His arm, draped diagonally cross her chest, squeezing her breast, as he pumped pent-up frustration into her body.

The weight on her back, the scrabbling at her breast combined with the wicked sensation of his cock filling her with his cum caused just enough friction – mental and physical – against her clitoris to have her howling. Her orgasm started with a tremble that began when he first collapsed on her. It completely shook her, causing another rush of wetness. Being pressed against the bed, stuffed so full, pinched nipples – it all culminated in one, huge, body-wrenching orgasm. Her inner muscles milked every drop he had to offer.

Summoning the breath to speak, she turned her head and finally looked at the man who still impaled her body. The look on her face corrected his earlier statement. The way she struggled to release one arm from beneath her and grasp at the hard planes that overwhelmed her senses only cemented her counter-claim.

“M I N E!”

*** *** *** *** ***

“Done.” Conceding with a kiss on her neck, he drew on what little strength he had left to reply, “Yours.”

He pulled her beside him on the bed and warmed their quickly cooling bodies with blankets.

It was several minutes before the tousled, red haired woman issued a deeply seeded warning as she started to push the blankets aside.

“But I am not done with you yet, Mr James Potter.”

2. Another Chapter

Author’s Note:

After some thought… and encouragement from an amazing woman named Karla, this story WILL be continued.

BUT

It will be continued as a series of encounters for different couples.

Because these couples may, or may not be, linked I will have to publish each episode as a couple-centric story.

For example: the first story was James and Lily. So, it is published as a James and Lily story.

The second story was published on March 23rd, 2006. It is a Ron/Luna story (called: Another Hard Day – Harder Night) so it is published as a Ron/Luna story and NOT as the second chapter of the James/Lily story.

Make sense? I hope so!

The next chapters, of course, will be Harry and Hermione and either Neville and Ginny OR Ginny and Draco. I have not decided just yet… Any and all suggestions are graciously accepted!

Happy Reading Everyone! PLEASE: REVIEW!!!

Island Girl