Friday already? I've been so caught up in completing 'When a Soldier Cries', the week disappeared on me. Here are my admittedly hasty hundred words. Enjoy my take on the image, then be sure to treat yourself to the other FFF participant's alternate interpretations by following this link to Flasher Fiction Friday.
Carina’s hand gripped his. “I might let you win,” Joel lied,
grinning. “I like to watch while Claudio drives you senseless with his talented
tongue.”
“I hate to lose,” Carina warned him. Her smile faded as she
strained to press his hand to the table. “I hate a liar more.”
Joel ‘s knuckles rapped against the rough plank tabletop.
His heart pounded; wanting out of the closet. Fear of rejection was a howling
banshee inside his skull, clenching fast to freedom’s key.
“You can’t trust me, but you still want me?” Carina spat. “Claudio’s
honest about his bisexuality. You lose.”
He’d bought her as a slave, trained her throughout many
deliciously painful nights and today bound her to him forever by the slim black
ribbon she wore around her throat with pride.
His wants were her only concern; now the privilege of her
life to fulfill.
Raindrops pelted her cheeks like the suede fingers of his
flogger when he plied it across the exposed curves of her ass.
His encircling arms, her willful prison. Love for him, her corset.
He broke their kiss,
smiling. “Count the raindrops, my pet. Only then will you will know how much I
love you.”
Merry Christmas to all my friends and blog readers. I look forward to spending many hours entertaining you in the upcoming year.
Peace and Joy.
Eden
And, because it's Christmas, a peek into my current WIP, tentatively titled
When a Soldier Cries:
Sure,
steady movements of his wonderful fingers had chills chasing hot flashes up her
torso as her back began to bow. She teetered on the edge of something dark and
wonderful, but scary in its unfamiliarity. Anthony had never spent much time
touching her this way. By now he’d be ordering her to turn over, just as it was
starting to feel good, but a part of her feared what she’d never felt before.
What was he doing to her? Strong sensations began to resonate in her pussy as
she began to squirm, instinctively trying to hold onto her self-control, yet
wanting more. “Don’t stop.”
Which
one of them was she talking to?
He
didn’t stop. Time disappeared. All there was to her world was his mouth and his
hand and the pleasure they evoked as she writhed, instinctively still trying to
escape, but he wasn’t letting her go. His fingers sped up, driving her toward
some dark and unknown place.
She
wanted more. She wanted less. She didn’t know what she wanted, but whatever it
was, she sensed he knew, and he was about to give it to her. She grabbed onto
the sheets with both hands. She had to hold onto something or she else she was
going to spin off into space, but who was that shrieking ‘ohmigodohmigodohmiGOD’? Tori
didn’t know, couldn’t care, then lost her ability to hear at all as the darkness
exploded into bright, vivid shards of red and blue and green while sharp waves
of pleasure detonated inside her. Ruthless, diabolical, wonderful man that he was, he didn’t let her catch her breath
before she felt one large finger slide through the wetness of her slit, both
heightening and relieving the blissful ache that had settled there. Her hips
instinctively pushed toward the invasion, needing something inside her with a
desperation she’d never felt, and a frustrated cry escaped as he held back,
refusing to push into her.
He
raised his head. She cried aloud at the loss of his mouth on her nipple. The
expression of male pride on his face made the forfeit bearable as he gazed at
her, his expression every bit as heated as the slickened muscles she was tightening
inside her core, silently urging him to give her what she needed as she pushed
herself toward his hand. His finger retreated, and he chuckled at the
exasperated sound she made.
“How
long, Peaches? How long has it been for
you, Tori?” His finger circled her opening slowly. Tease.
She
wasn’t sure which of two possible questions he was asking. Intense feelings of
gratitude and need swept over her, and in their wake, she blurted out the
shameful truth. “Three years. Never. Never like that.”
*****
Tanner
studied her from her flushed face to the pale curls covering her mound as he began
to work his finger inside her. She was unbelievably snug, yet the tightness of
her flesh around his invading finger bore out her shocking statement. Three
years? His cock was a column of agony,
but he’d be damned if he was going to try entering her until he’d stretched her
a bit. Hell if he’d hurt her.
He’d
never felt humbled by the gift of a woman’s body before, but he knew that was
what this was, a gift he hadn’t earned, and that feeling of awe kept rolling through
him. The most important thing to him now became giving her the most possible
pleasure; he’d get his. Rotating his wrist, he pushed deeper as he felt along
her upper wall for the spongy bit that some women had, grinning again when he
felt hers. Slowly stroking it, he watched her intently, adding a second finger
when she was writhing beside him, tearing at her abused sheets again.
The
sexy sight of her, off-balance and completely under his control detonated heavy
throbs in his cock, demanding he fuck her, but her confession challenged him to
give her more, tempted him to see how high he could make her fly. He was never
going to forget her, so goddammit, she wasn’t gonna forget him either.
Semper fucking Fi,
he thought with a tight grin, assigning himself a brand-new mission. He’d never
in a million years have guessed the cool little doc was a screamer, but he was
a long damn way from having heard enough of her cries. If he’d ever met a woman
who downright needed to lose control, it was Tori.
As you pause for holiday parties and presents, remember the soldier, who patrols far away.
Six steamy sentences from my short story Cupid's Correction, coming in February from Rebel Ink Press.
A naughty little bite to whet your appetite. Enjoy.
*****
Outrage made his cock jab
angrily into his abdomen as his eyes narrowed on Gil as she tugged a strange
man’s dick out of the slit in his boxers and boldly slid her fist down the
length.
Her
hand seemed to squeeze the breath right out of him.
She
turned her head to stare at his heaving chest as she slowly began to jack a
cock that wasn’t his, the outrageous sight reminding him why they were
divorcing, even as his nipple burned for another touch of her tongue.
Damn
her pretty ass, Dylan could almost feel her soft hand on his rigid rod as he
stared at her bare fingers sliding over the veined skin in her hand, fury
making his breaths come dear. Glistening drops of cum welled onto his cock
head, as a vision of Gil on her knees, her tongue peeking from between her lips
and her wedding gown puddled around their feet on the floor no more than three
minutes after they’d married, dimmed the disagreeable sight. She’d worn the same
look as she’d taken him out of his tuxedo pants with a laugh that had made his
heart slam with fear that someone would hear her and come to investigate the
noises coming from the room just off the church vestibule as the huge crowd of
their friends and family filed past.
They
say a picture is worth a thousand words, but on Flasher Fiction Friday, it's worth a hundred, no
more, no less. Enjoy my entry, then follow the link to read how other
writers have interpreted the same image.
My entry is actually a peek into an event that happened between two characters one of my works in progress - Dirty Secrets and Designer Heels.
~ *** ~
Slyly, Beau cut his eyes
at Marcus, dragging his fingertips suggestively down his bare chest.
Goddammit, the rich
bastard was just taunting him.
Being the scholarship
kid was easier since he and Beau had fist-fought their way to friendship, but
one day, he was gonna fuck the heir-apparent to this damn city, Marcus vowed, picturing Beau on his knees, his
blue eyes filled with something besides arrogance and Marc’s hard cock
replacing that silver spoon in his mouth.
Marcus grinned cockily;
a warning and a promise.
His heart pounded like
the Atlantic against The Battery when Beau smiled back.
Beau Tattersall's high-society family is pushing him to marry the wrong woman to solidify their teetering position at the top of straight-laced society in Charleston, S.C. when an old friend returns to town and the pair meet a woman who might hold the key to happiness for both men, if everyone concerned can keep their dirty secrets banished to their respective closets.
Carmine Club Chronicles
Willa Davis Seachrist has a Civil-War era mansion, a thriving wedding planning business and a secret sex club to run, but running from her attraction to her old flame and county sheriff Mac Rinehart is making life complicated.
We all have one. He's the guy, whether famous or simply seated on the Harley parked across from yours, that never fails to make your G-spot stand up and start doing the Hustle.
How can a woman resist a fuck-you attitude wrapped in fuck-me eyes? Pair that with a self-destructive bent and I'm certainly suckered. Because that's the thing about a bad boy, you just wanna save them from themselves. That's a delusion I've suffered from a time or two in my life, along with a couple of my female main characters.
For me, it's been Kris Kristofferson since I was sixteen years old. A first date took me to see A Star is Born, and he was sweet enough to hand me a napkin for my drool. I think it was the only time the entire evening I spared a look at the poor guy who'd shelled out the cash for the flick and driven me into Charlotte, N.C. from the small suburb we lived in. Can't imagine why he never asked me out again, but it was okay. I had Kris.
Because, oh my freeking gawd, in 1976, Kris Kristofferson was absolutely edible. Those piercing blue eyes beneath that tousled thatch of dark hair, the gravelly voice that sent shivers racing across every teenage nerve-ending in my body, the touch of grey in the beard that you simply knew came more from hard living than age, and that naughty I-double-dog-dare-you grin all combined to give him a permanent place at the top of my fantasy-man list.
The fact he could sing was icing on the cake.
Frankly, if he'd shown up hanging from the back of a garbage truck, I believe I'd still have fallen in love with the man, but I confess, I'd have cheerfully clawed Barbara Streisand's eyes out and cut her golden throat with a broken beer bottle to have traded places with her. I can still sing every word of every song from that movie, and I've owned the soundtrack on vinyl, 8-track, cassette, and they're all currently saved on my YouTube faves.
I dragged his poster with me to college, and pinned it proudly one the wall opposite my bed. I'm positive Kris is to blame for my failing Microbiology too. Every time I attempted to study, a whole other sort of Biology came to mind. But I forgave him. That's the other quality every bad boy owns, the ability to make you forgive their bad behavior, even when you know you shouldn't.
Enjoy the photo gallery, while you listen to one of my all-time favorite songs, written and sung by Kris.
Then tell me about your favorite bad boy, while I run off to do edits on A Soldier's Tears, my current work-in-progress. The male main character, Tanner Caldwell, has more than a touch of Kris in him.
Friday, December 9, 2011
New Year's Blog Hop
Come along and join the fun. Hop from blog to blog meeting other erotic romance writers. I'm going. Picking out my slinky dress and stilettos now.
It's a bold claim, particularly for a new author, I admit.
With a name like Eden, how can I not be fascinated with the little event that's said to have transpired in the Garden of Eden? And which juicy fruit did Eve supposedly use to tempt Adam into sin? The apple, of course.
So why a 'Bad Apple'? Who wants to read about people being good when they select an erotic romance novel? I know I certainly don't. I hope you don't either, because I can promise you right this minute, my characters get up to all sorts of juicy sexual shenanigans as they seek love and sexual fulfillment. They're all guilty of being bad. In the good way.
It's said that one bad apple can spoil the whole bunch. That's my goal, and the logic behind the tag line. I hope to spoil my readers, by giving you stories so juicy and satisfying that you'll keep coming back again and again for another naughty taste.
So, in the words I imagine Eve said to Adam on that fateful day...Come on, take a bite. What can it hurt?
(Credit to Nichole Pattinson, for making me this fabulous pic --thanks so much! I love it.)
You'll be able to get your first bite of my work tomorrow, when my short story, Cum, They Told Me will be published by Naughty Nights Press, as one of eight hot holiday reads in their Christmas Anthology entitled Doing The Naughty List Twice.
~Teaser for Cum, They Told Me ~
Sophie Weller has had a rough year. She's being forced to sell the company she has poured her heart and soul into for the past nine years as part of her divorce from her cheating, drug-abusing husband, a disgrace to the uniform of the NY Yankees. She spent a terrible eighteen hours with her mother, trapped in a car hanging off the side of an embankment, and she comes out of that misadventure knowing she will do anything to avoid ending up as shallow and bitter as her mother, resolving that as soon as the ball drops in Times Square, she will devote the next 365 days to seeking only her pleasure.
On New Year's Eve, she meets with her attorney, Kendall Davis Laramie III, and her hunky Texas-bred buyer, Matthias Jackson, to complete the two items that will release her from the unfulfilling life she's been living: her divorce and the sale of her company, Banger and Lever Optics.
Before the ink is dry on the first contract, Sophie begins to fancy taking a bite of both men. Matt and Davis definitely want to share a taste of Sophie. But is that all they want from her?
~***~
Purchase links will be posted here as soon as I have them. The anthology will be available on Amazon, Smashwords and All Romance EBooks.
Welcome to Eden's Garden, wherejuicy and sinful is in everything on the menu. Please visit often, as the offerings are nothing if not naughty. Feel free to comment as well as share this blog with your friends who enjoy a hot read.
