Wilson Jones

On her own for the first time, Vicki buys an eerie old house where she discovers a secret room with bare cement walls.  Scribbled in the cold cement is the name Wilson, and a voice behind her booms, “Wilson Jones.”  She turns to see a tall, dark man with full lips and bulging muscles coming toward her, demanding to know why she is there.


Excerpt:

Wilson stroked her long blonde hair, running the silky strands through his fingers.  Vicki slowly looked up, and he lowered his lips to hers.  It was the first time a man had wanted her in a long time, and it felt good, too good, and Vicki kissed him as she would a lover, pressing her body to him and standing on tiptoe to give him more.  She wanted to feel him deep inside her.


Wilson pulled back and looked into her eyes, questioning her.  “What do you want from me, Vicki?”


“I want you,” she whispered.


“I can make no promises, given…”


“I don’t need promises,” she said.


She felt his strong arms wrap around her.  His skin was smooth and warm and Vicki didn’t want to let go.


The man with skin as dark as night could do with her whatever he pleased.  He lay over her, smothering her small body with his large frame.  She felt safe and protected.  He kissed her and she reached for him, urging him to fill her completely.  He watched her, this beautiful woman beneath him, who wanted him more than any woman had wanted him.  Her slender arms around him made him feel like a man… a feeling he thought he had been robbed of forever.