Author of love, lust and matters of the heart
I didn’t expect it, that slip of your skin against mine as we walked, the summertime heat leaving your palm warm. Just the slightest of touches set a spark inside me, igniting my blood; it was the way your fingers encased mine leaving me simmering with desire and an anticipation I dare not express, even to myself. You were just making sure I was safe, weren’t you? Did you know that even the smallest brush of your skin against mine set my emotions in turmoil?
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?
Their phone torches pinged off the branches, sometimes finding the blackness of the voids in between. They picked their way through the gravestones, the edges(read more…)
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.
She felt the Devil, long before he asked her to dance. Vivid dreams left her writhing, waking and finding herself on her stomach, breasts rubbing against the sheet, fingers already straying between her thighs. He took her in these night-time visions, claiming her, from her burning lips to her fiery cunt, growling against her flesh she would always be his, her desire the flames that licked his feet in supplication. She always awoke as he penetrated her – with his cock, his eyes, his dominance – and it left her dripping with molten need.
Every morning she saw him, standing there in the window. It began the day after they met, quite by accident (literally).
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(read more…)
For #WickedWednesday, and the prompt of ‘tattoo’, I have done something I don’t normally do on my blog. The following story is embryonic, and began(read more…)
I am partly writing this post because I had planned to, and partly because the lovely Nora had been asking on her blog how to(read more…)
The #WickedWednesday prompt this week caught my eye: Vintage Art. I love art in a big way, so set out perusing way too many vintage(read more…)
