He pointed to a small sofa and I did as he asked. I looked up at him and came into direct contact with his gaze. His face flushed, but our eyes never lost contact. There was a spark in his that caused a pang between my thighs. It lingered, leaving me squirming beneath my gypsy skirt. I smiled, and he sat next to me. His knee brushed mine and he held it there. I watched his throat rise and fall as I pressed my lips together into a little rosebud and tilted my head to look at him. I don’t know who leaned in towards who, but I could feel his breath on my face. I let out a little gasp as a quiver ran down my spine.
It’s early and her eyes were barely open, but the pounding in her chest told her it was almost time. The clock was redundant today. He was already texting. I dreamt about us last night. I only remember a fragment of it as I woke up. Something about dragging you down a side alley on … Continue reading Dream Come True
I can feel your body giving in to my fingers, the way they probe the contour of every bone. I can hear your breath grow heavy when I circle my fingers right in that sensitive part of the dip between ribs and hips. When will you open the door?
There’s something about every room I wander into that excites me, makes me aroused, just as if the softest of paintbrushes was running over my flesh, brushing the tips of my nipples with its tender sable. I have to slip my hand beneath my top and touch them through my bra to check, the feeling is so convincing. There they are, erect and willing me into each room, this feeling of arousal spreading, brushing my belly into knots and transferring the feeling between my legs as I realise what it is that affects me so: it is the smell of you.
I lay myself across his chest, kissing his neck, my tongue flicking and swirling against his skin, until his growls against my hair.
His hands slip behind me, the heat from his palms burning into my backside, branding me with an invisible mark of his need, as he pulls me harder into him.
Flash fiction isn't something I write very often, but I hope you like this little piece of sexiness for #WickedWednesday's Coffee prompt, inspired by a rather lovely conversation over breakfast recently. Happy reading! Ina x “How long does it take? I don’t know much about percolators. I have instant at home.” She caught sight … Continue reading Percolation
As some of you know, I am working on a big project about voyeurism (which I won't go on about her because it's a naughty thing to do on a #MasturbationMonday post). This short piece of fiction is a kind of spin-off to one of the stories, and may yet become part of the overall … Continue reading Right Through Me
This is the fifth and final part of my erotic short story, 'Audience for the Marionette'. When we last encountered her, she had performed a very special show for her voyeuristic client. Not only was her consciousness fully aware of her feelings, but her body had become alive, needy, offering herself up to a new … Continue reading Audience for the Marionette: Part 5
This is the fourth instalment of my dark, erotic short story, "Audience for the Marionette", which features in my forthcoming erotic short story collection on voyeurism. You can read a little more about the collection here. We left Marionette performing for the special client. Instead of doing what her Master expects her to do, she … Continue reading Audience for the Marionette, part 4