Slice Me Nice
A short sequel to “A Slave of My Own Desire”
(Red Rose Publishing, 2008)
David’s fingers dip in and out of the opening, toying with the carroty flesh. My head is as light as apple cider bubbles, but my whole body is heavy with desire for those magic fingers -
Cider? Hell!
“We don’t have cider.” I’m a stickler for getting things right. Candied apples are not cider. “The recipe says we need -”
David wipes his hands and reaches for the tin knife. “We? As in the royal we, or the married we?”
Oh, that smile of his. Mocking. Challenging. Sizzling hot.
“Neither.” I’m sure I managed not to blush. Pretty sure. Ok, not at all sure. “We, as in, we’re making this punch together because we can’t be arsed to go out and get food.”
David’s eyes are on me. On my derrière, to be precise. “Speaking of which.”
It’s a full sentence, with a period at the end. A command, not an invitation. I can see the length of his erect c-ck against his jeans and I’m very aware how naked I am under my flimsy dressing gown.
“Yes.” That’s all I can manage, and even that comes out raspy through my suddenly dry throat.
(more available on request, just leave a comment on this blog)
A short sequel to “A Slave of My Own Desire”
(Red Rose Publishing, 2008)
David’s fingers dip in and out of the opening, toying with the carroty flesh. My head is as light as apple cider bubbles, but my whole body is heavy with desire for those magic fingers -
Cider? Hell!
“We don’t have cider.” I’m a stickler for getting things right. Candied apples are not cider. “The recipe says we need -”
David wipes his hands and reaches for the tin knife. “We? As in the royal we, or the married we?”
Oh, that smile of his. Mocking. Challenging. Sizzling hot.
“Neither.” I’m sure I managed not to blush. Pretty sure. Ok, not at all sure. “We, as in, we’re making this punch together because we can’t be arsed to go out and get food.”
David’s eyes are on me. On my derrière, to be precise. “Speaking of which.”
It’s a full sentence, with a period at the end. A command, not an invitation. I can see the length of his erect c-ck against his jeans and I’m very aware how naked I am under my flimsy dressing gown.
“Yes.” That’s all I can manage, and even that comes out raspy through my suddenly dry throat.
(more available on request, just leave a comment on this blog)
2 comments:
Hi Eve!
Now I got to confess, the first sentence got me reading thinking of something else that was happening, LOL. I shall be back to visit for more! Congrats on the release!!! Its my first time visiting here and thrilled to! Your new book is up on my wishlist!
Hi Caffey
Here's more, as promised, on the December 11, 2009 post.
Eve Summers
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