Sunday Smut and Silliness

Oo, look at me alliterate.

First: The Jason Bell theme song. Composed and performed by my Jason (this may not work at livejournal, come on over here):

Second: The Bell Curve, a naughty excerpt:

“Pants and a tshirt are all I’m asking for. Oh, and shoes.” She started to sit up again but one strong hand centered on her chest and pushed her back down.
“What’s your hurry? We’ve got a few hours to lay low before we can go anywhere.” He was out of the chair and on top of her in one fluid motion she couldn’t have written any sexier. Despite her loss of consciousness and being, as far as she knew, trapped in some hackneyed alternate reality, she instantly responded to Jason’s touch. She always did. His weight on top of her was easy to bear, and he laughed softly in her ear.
“Oxygen?”
“Not this time, Goddess. I just love being on top of you.”
“Oh,” she managed before he kissed her. A sensual kiss full of promises of things to come. Lips brushed lips and the small sounds they made flowed over her like warm honey. She ran her hands over his back, the flex and pull of his muscles through the thin black tshirt thrilled her. He was such a manly man, nothing like her other lovers from school. She reveled in his strength and the sheer size of him. The span of his shoulders seemed to go on for an eternity as she kneaded her hands into the knots she found. He moaned into her mouth, hot breath coursing over her lips until they were breathing together.
“So this is what you mean by lay low?” She laughed too, giddy from the knock on the head and the extra oxygen. And the hot guy now laying on top of her. Being kidnapped was getting better and better.
Barely an inch of space remained between his head and the shelf above, so she pushed on his hips so he would sink lower on the bed. He buried his face in her chest, kissing a trail from her throat to her breastbone. One hand crept under her tank top and cupped around her left side, warming her waist and belly. He gripped her that way, heat radiating from his hand into her, then slid her shirt up to pool atop her breasts.
He loved her breasts. “All the girls here are so skinny and mannish,” he’d told her once when she asked about his obsessive fascination. “Even the pretty ones have nothing but a nibble. Your breasts are dinner and dessert.”
“Hungry?” Jen murmured, nipples tightening with arousal. She inhaled the smell of him, hair tickling her nostrils as she breathed in his scent. Even that was deep and spicy, the way she imagined men to smell.
“Oh yes, for you I’m always hungry.”
tbc….