Free Hot Ticket by Deirdre Martin, Julia London, Annette Blair, Geri Buckley

body.

    Her eyes looked like the blue-green flame of a fire, hot and intense and filled with ecstasy, and Parker experienced a strange feeling in his chest, a weird simpatico as if he had connected to someone totally and completely. Unlikely as it was, he was feeling a very deep and profound connection with Kelly at that moment.
    Kelly sank her teeth into her bottom lip and began to move faster, but Parker wasn’t going to let her ride away with this. He caught her by the waist and rolled off the couch, stopping their fall to the floor with one arm. Now she was on her back and he was on top of her—still connected—and her black boots around his waist.
    Kelly laughed, put her arms around him, and kissed him tenderly. This was heaven, purely heaven. Parker reached between them and stroked her as he began to push deep into her. She sighed blissfully—her head rolled to one side, half covered with blond hair. She moved her hips to meet him, moving faster as she neared her release, and when she came, she let out a groan of rapture.
    That groan sent Parker over the edge—he held her steady with his arm around her waist, reaching as far inside her as he could. His release was bubbling up in him, along with several deep-seated emotions that surprised him. There was something here that went beyond a primal coupling, something she had touched in him, some barrier she had broken through. Those emotions and his pleasure spiraled around one another until the bubble burst and he came, hard and long and completely.
    Reduced to a mass of flesh—there was nothing left inside of him—he closed his eyes and pressed his forehead against her shoulder. Kelly wrapped her arms around his head and sighed contentedly. They remained like that for a few moments until the heel of Kelly’s boot stabbed him in the butt and he yelped. “Sorry,” she said, and dissolved into a fit of giggles.
    So did Parker. And they lay there, giggling, until Kelly suggested that the guy across the garden could see Parker’s bare ass.
    Parker and Kelly did not leave that cozy apartment thatafternoon, but ended up in her four-poster bed, giggling like teenagers and speaking about their lives, their dreams, and their desires. Around six that evening, when Kelly’s stomach started to growl, they reluctantly got dressed and went out for what turned out to be a long, leisurely dinner. And still Parker did not leave. They returned to her apartment and made love like they’d been lovers for months instead of moments, bringing each other fulfillment in ways neither of them had experienced in a very long time.
    The next morning, Parker woke to an empty apartment. He stretched, got up, found a radio, and switched it on, finding Kelly’s show as they were discussing the Mets’ series against the Chicago Cubs. He was leaving today.
    “I’m just saying,” Kelly said, “that if he could get his batting average up to around .285, .300, the guy would be unstoppable.”
    “You mean if he’s got any glove,” Guido said.
    “It definitely goes without saying that if he ain’t got glove, he ain’t got game,” Kelly quipped, and Guido provided the sound of laughter.
    “But I think we might have seen a turnaround, Guido. I think maybe the Mets are back.”
    That was met with a stadium cheer, which Guido really seemed to like.
    “Let’s go to the phones—this is Sports Day with Kelly O’Shay . Who are we speaking with?” Kelly asked, and Parker turned it off. He didn’t need to listen to her show anymore and walked into her bathroom and turned on the shower. Actually, he didn’t think he needed much of anything anymore. He had a very fluid feeling that he’d found what he was looking for.

CHAPTER 09
    Parker called her every day from Chicago, and every day, he played spectacularly.
    Every morning, Kelly sang his praises on the radio, giving him credit for single-handedly turning the Mets around. When Guido questioned that on the air, she retorted, “Hey, if he