Writing Exercise - Late Shift

He hadn't been on the floor for an hour before the talk started. Every nurse found a reason to swing by his room, you know, take a peek for themselves and see what all the fuss was about.

"Did you see him?" Rhonda sat behind the front of the main desk entering chart information.

I had already been on shift for six hours and had heard no less than ten girls (and a couple of the guys) talk about the man in 305C, but I had not made it to the far end of the hall...yet. "No," I sighed, "but you would think he looks like Adonis the way everyone's talking."

"Girl, you don't even know," Rhonda sat back in her chair and laughed. "You know I loved Mr. Peters, been married eighteen years, thank the Lord, but that man down there? I almost think God would understand." She laughed and I smiled as I made notes on a chart.

"That's what I hear," I grinned but there was a reason I hadn't made it down to 305C. All day long, all I could think about, were the pics I had found on Chris' phone. He had left it at my house that morning, took off for work without it, and when I was standing in the bathroom, brushing my teeth, and starting to think about the day ahead, I heard it beep.

I didn't check it. I mean, I didn't mean to. I walked into the bedroom, saw the phone on the floor beside the bed, and picked it up. But my finger swiped across the screen and, in doing so, I saw the notification - Lisa FB, My place after work? 

Then I touched it. I had to touch it. I didn't recognize the name, had never heard Chris mention a Lisa...and what was FB? It was a lengthy text chain, a long list of back and forth entries, and it didn't take two minutes to see that Lisa and Chris were...involved. Is that what you call someone who you have sex with a few times a week, almost every time you don't sleep over at your regular girlfriend's house?

Now, I like to think of myself as mature, like to think that I am not the kind of woman to just fly off the handle at the slightest thing, but there were pictures in the text stream, pictures from two days before, pictures that were more than a little graphic - Lisa coming out of the shower, Lisa on the bed with a vibrator planted at the top of her pussy while a dildo was engulfed therein. There was no doubt as to what Chris and Lisa were about.

At first, I had wanted to throw the phone and everything else that belonged to Chris out the door. I mean, what was I supposed to do? Chris and I had been dating for four months, we had promised to be monogamous after three, but it was pretty clear that Chris and I had two different definitions for the word.

"You alright, Stacey?" Rhonda broke through my reverie and I realized I had been standing beside her staring down at the chart in my hand the entire time I had been replaying the events of the morning in my head.

"Yeah, sorry, I was just thinking about..." I slipped the chart into the stack of charts I still had to enter and wandered down the hall.

It was a Tuesday afternoon, I had another hour of patients and then two or three for chart work. The hospital was relatively quiet for a Tuesday and, as I walked the halls, I kept trying to figure out exactly how I was supposed to feel and what I was supposed to do. The entire thing had, kind of, blindsided me. I mean, I felt like Chris and I were good together. We didn't get as much time as either of us would have liked, but I'm a nurse and he's pharma rep - we're both pretty busy people.

I wondered what Lisa did. Was she a young doctor, some woman Chris had met when trying to work an account? Was she an old fling? She was certainly not ashamed of her body or sending dirty pics, I thought back to her spread eagle on her bed, working herself obviously to thoughts of Chris. How long has it been going on? How did I not see it?

A young man with dark hair and a broken arm, smiled up at me. "They finally sent me a pretty one?" He raised his eyebrows and I looked up from the chart in my hand. I'd been on auto-pilot, I had wandered from the nurse's station down the hall, and back into my rotation without realizing it.

"Jacob," I smiled at the high school football player sitting up in bed, "how is the arm feeling?"

"Better now," he smiled.

Jacob had broken his arm in three places on Friday night, had been through two emergency surgeries over the weekend, and was still flying on pain pills - pills that had obviously removed any sort of filter the young man had, that and all of his inhibitions. His dick, which I was sure was hard enough to scratch grass was proudly standing at full attention under his sheets and he didn't even realize it, he just sort of sat there, smiling up at me, lost in the haze of opiates.

"Well, the doctor will be in late this evening to check you over, is there anything..." I couldn't help but glance at the tent between his legs again, "would you like some water or..."

"No," he looked me over again, slowing scanning my body from head to toe, "I think I am good feeling." He touched the arm of his bed and changed the channel on the television over my head.

"Let me know if you need anything." I set the chart back in the little tray at the end of his bed and left the room. Another nurse, Melody, was standing outside the door looking at a chart. "Hey," I smiled.

"How about that boner?" Melody chuckled, "if I was a younger woman. Whoa," she waved her hand in front of her face like she was too hot, "and have you seen..."

"305C? No, but it's on my list," I chuckled as I walked away.

I was on my last chart, sitting where Rhonda had earlier in the day, when Melody answered the phone and told me Chris was on the line.

My insides went cold. I had been thinking about him and us and Lisa all day, but I still had no idea what I was wanted to say. I was angry, like there was a volcano somewhere deep inside of me ready to explode, but I was at work and I wasn't about to make a scene in the middle of the nurse's station.

"Hey, sorry about the call, I left my cell phone at your house.," his voice betrayed nothing, like he either hadn't realized that I might find it or didn't expect me to go through it or...I couldn't even think of another option while my brain kept screaming obscenities.

"Oh, yeah, um, no problem," I gripped the edge of the desk as hard as I could trying to keep myself from exploding. "I have a few more hours here, lots of paperwork. Why don't you grab your phone and we can get together tomorrow night or Thursday." I have no idea why I said what I said, but it was all that came out.

"Oh, um, ok," he sounded unsure or distracted and I wondered if I had pushed him off too far. "Yeah, cool, I will run by your place and grab my phone and then," he paused and I stared at the white splotches across my knuckles, the color change that occurred because of my grip on the counter top. "Yeah, I will grab my phone and call you tomorrow?"

"Sure," I said feeling rotten about everything all of a sudden, "Call me tomorrow." I hung up the phone.

"Everything alright?" Melody was looking over a chart, but we both knew she had been eavesdropping.

"Yeah," I let go of the counter and stretched my hand open and closed. "Yeah, everything's fine."

Melody walked away and got back to my charts.

***

I didn't sleep well that night. When I got home, Chris had already retrieved his phone but that was it. So, I had no way to know what he knew or figured out if anything. But the anger inside of me, once I had left work and returned home, had gone from a dangerous volcano to an erupting volcano.

As soon as I walked in and realized that Chris had come and gone and only the phone was missing, I fell apart. I don't know what I was expecting, what I hoped to find when I got home, but the fact that there was nothing pushed me over the edge.

I grabbed a box out of the recycling bin, walked into the bathroom, and started clearing out his stuff. Razor, shampoo, soap, and poof all went into the box. Then I was off to the bedroom where I started to gather his clothes and anything else I could find. Honestly, I wanted to set it all on fire, through each piece into the little chimnea that sat out on the balcony, but instead, I put everything in the middle of the dining room table and poured a glass of wine.

There wasn't much really. When it was all together in the box, everything of his I could find, I suddenly realized where he and I really were in our relationship and there was a stark difference between where I thought we had been.

I am just another Lisa to him. I refilled the wine glass in front of me. She probably doesn't even know about me and that's where he stays when he's not here. The anger was like acid, an alcohol-infused acid that burned through everything. I'm going to get him back.

When I woke up, there was an empty bottle of wine on the bedside table and a pile of clothes at the end of the bed that I didn't immediately remember putting there.

I got a shower and started through the pile wondering exactly what had happened, but then I saw the black bra that I had only worn once, a week after Chris and I had started dating. It was a front-clip demi that barely covered my nipples.

Chris hadn't been ready for me that night. We had gone to dinner and a movie and then drinks. By the time we got back to my place, we were both half-drunk and all kinds of horny. I had bought the bra, a garter and black thigh high stockings for the occasion and he was more than appreciative.

I picked up the bra, slipped my arms through the straps, and clipped it closed. I scooped my girls into position and stared down at my cleavage. The bra still fit and my breasts sat in the demi like two perfect mounds of flesh. I went to the drawer and found the garter belt, a little lace number that was about as wide as two fingers. The stockings were hanging in the closet and I put them on too, pulling each one up and clipping the little straps onto the belt.

Turning in the mirror, I gave myself a good once over. The results were better than I expected. The outfit still fit and I felt like I looked pretty good, the belt accentuated a little curve above my hips, but I was fairly sure no man could resist me and that alone seemed to cheer me up.

So, I put my white nurse's blouse over the black bra and I slipped my scrubs on over the thigh-high stockings and garter belt. I needed to feel sexy even if it was only for me.

***

Halfway through the day at work, I was heading toward a supply closet on the far end of the hall, when I saw three nurses standing outside of 305C, out of view of the door and whispering like school kids.

All three looked up at once and seemed to blush simultaneously. "Ladies?" I raised my eyebrows.

"Oh," Melody started for the middle station, halfway down the hall and the others fell in line behind her, all giggles and blush.

I saw the open doorway and the numbers beside it and shook my head. Man, whoever that guy is... I was almost by the door when a deep voice rang out. "Um, nurse?"

I froze. Was that 305C? 

"Can you help me out here?"

I turned through the open door and found a young man in his twenties with sandy blonde hair trying to get out of his bed but his robe's tie had apparently gotten caught on the arm of the opposite side of the bed and he was kind of caught like a dog at the end of his leash.

He blushed the moment our eyes met. "I'm sorry," he said, "I can't seem to get the tie..."

I moved across the room and reached my fingers down between the frame and the arm where the tie was caught, but when I got there, I couldn't help but notice the back of the man's robe was pulled open and he was naked underneath.

He might not have been Adonis but his body was a sculpted work of art. He had broad shoulders and large lateral muscles that turned his entire upper body into a triangle of toned, tanned muscle that led down to a narrow waist and a perfectly round little ass two shades lighter than his tan. I almost giggled out loud as the color difference.

"Thank you so much," he reached back and tried to close the robe as soon as the tension on the strap was gone.

"No problem," I started back around the bed.
"I'm Zane," he blushed and offered his hand, "thanks for the rescue."

I shook his hand and let my eyes wander across him. The girls had been right, he was adorable, yummy, and every other adjective they had used to describe him.
In addition to the physique that looked like it had been chiseled out of stone, Zane had misty blue eyes, a strong chin, and baby smooth skin - basically, he looked like he could have been a Calvin Klein model one of those young men with an almost timeless beauty.

"No problem," I let go of his hand when I felt the heat rise in my cheeks. "I'm Stacey," I pointed to the little name tag on my blouse.

"I haven't seen you before," Zane stood and stretched his arms over his head which ruffled his hospital gown a bit and played the fabric across the shape of his body.

"I, um," I averted my eyes from the shape of his thighs and the bulge in the thin fabric, "I am not assigned to these rooms, I was just, um, heading to get..."

"That sucks," He looked me over a little tingle of excitement moved through me. "You're the prettiest one so far," he winked and started toward the bathroom. "Excuse me for a second."

"Yeah, I, uh, I have to get back to..."

Zane looked over his shoulder and grinned. "What time do you get off?"

My cheeks were on fire and my palms felt sweaty. "Around eight," I blurted out the words as the left cheek of his ass came into view.

"Want to have dinner?"

A thousand thoughts raced through my head all at once - was I allowed to have dinner with a patient? What were all the other nurses going to think? Oh my god, I had no idea he was so hot. Look at that little ass! I just want to smack it. I wonder if he's good in bed? I bet he has a huge...

"Stacey," the sound of my name brought me back to 305C where I saw Zane still standing in front of the bathroom door, a mischievous grin on his face, "are you staring at my ass?"

I almost choked and realized that I was, that I had been, that the left cheek of his ass, now wiggling a little as Zane moved it back and forth and laughed, was exactly what I had been staring at. "Um," I couldn't find another option, "yes?"

"Good," he pulled the little string and untied the robe, "I'll stare at your ass after dinner." He closed the door and I took a deep breath.

What just happened?

***

At seven thirty, a man in a green shirt showed up at the nurse's station with a bouquet of flowers, red, yellow, and purple tulips in a beautifully-curved vase. "Stacey?" The man looked at the sheet in his hand. "Nurse Stacey, third floor?"

I looked at the flowers and then at the deliver man. "Yes, that's me."

I signed the sheet and then pulled the card from the vase. Can't wait to stare at your ass tonight. -Zane. 

All at once, I couldn't sort my feelings. On the one hand, I was as giddy and excited as a high school girl that just got asked to the prom by the cutest boy in school. But on the other hand, I was angry and boiling with rage.

Chris had never once bought be flowers. Of course, Chris was too busy fucking two women to buy anyone flowers. I thought of the pictures of Lisa on the bed and coming out of the shower, the shameless exhibition, the comfort she displayed, and I wondered.

***

"So, you've been a nurse of a couple of years, you said?" Zane pushed away the little tray of cafeteria food and smiled at me.

"Yeah, two and a half years." I was sitting on the edge of the bed finishing the blue jello in the upper left hand compartment of my tray. "It's what I always wanted to be."

"Nice," Zane looked me over and I met his eyes at the end. Neither of us looked away, it was obvious what we were both thinking, but I wasn't sure what to do next. "I always wanted to be doctor when I was little." Zane smiled and put his tray on the table. "That's not actually true," he chuckled, "I always wanted to play doctor with the neighbor girl."

I picked up the little tray and put in the table beside his. Lisa's pictures popped into my head again, the fearlessness she seemed to display. "No one ever played doctor with me," I set my hand on Zane's thigh and gave him a little squeeze.

He stared down at my hand. "I find that hard to believe."

"No, really," I stood up and walked to the door. Zane was going home tomorrow and I had already marked his chart for the remainder of the evening - we weren't going to be interrupted. I turned back toward the bed and met Zane's gaze.

I took a deep breath. You can do this. You're strong. Take what you want. Show Chris who you are, how sexy you are. Show him what he's losing. The voice in my head pushed me.

Zane's eyes wandered across the curves of my form.

"You want to play with me?" I started back across the room. "You want to play doctor with me?"

Zane swallowed hard and nodded.

What now? What are you going to do? I walked across the room and sat back down on the edge of the bed. "Do you need me to take my clothes off doctor?" I reached back and pulled my hair out of it's ponytail.

Zane's eyes flared a bit. "Yes, actually, I, uh, yes, I will need to do an examination."

I reached up and unbuttoned a few buttons on my blouse and then pulled the fabric off my shoulders, revealing my breasts and the black bra.

"Oh, my..." Zane sort of sighed.

"Do you like them?" I stared down at the two pillows of pale flesh and then reached between Zanes legs and grabbed the hunk of flesh covered by sheets and his robe. "Do they turn you on?"

Zane took a deep breath and I felt the cock in my hand contract and swell. "Yes," he cooed softly.

Oh my God, it's so big. It's huge. I squeezed the hardening penis again.

"Bottoms too?" I looked at him coyly.

"Yes, please."

I put my phone on the little table, slipped my fingers into the waistband of the scrubs and pushed them down. Zane's eyes grew wide in astonishment before he whipped the bed sheets to the side and pulled his robe back away from his turgid member.

Now it was my turn for amazement. Zane's cock was two or three full inches longer than Chris' and a good bit thicker and suddenly, I wasn't trying to be strong anymore. Suddenly all I wanted was this.

"Come here," Zane pulled me down onto the bed and our lips met. His greedy hands moved across my body, starting at my back and shoulders and eventually moving to my tits.

I positioned my legs so my pussy laid flat against the shaft of his penis and then rocked my hips while we passionately kissed. His girth parted my lips and soon the hot flesh was rubbing against my clit, manually stroking him length.

My head was a blur. I felt like I had been drinking.

He yanked my breast free of the bra and bit into the underside.

The pain mixed with the pleasure and I put my hand on the back of his head. "Yes," I moaned, "you like that?" Zane nodded and I reached between our legs and slipped the tip of his cock into my darkness.

"Ohhhh," Zane pulled his head back and closed his eyes in rapture, "oh god, that feels so..."

The tip of his cock stretched my entrance and every muscle in my body tightened. His cock was so big. I bit my lower lip and pressed him further and as he stretched me open, impaling me on his length, I squirmed and tried to focus on the pleasure that washed across me. "Fuck me," I moaned deliriously. "Fuck me," I grabbed my own breast and squeezed while I milked the length of his cock with my pussy.

Writing Exercise - My Neighbor's Husband

I sent him the picture because I knew he would get angry.

He had already told me that we couldn't talk on the phone, no more text messages, no more Facebook, nothing that left a trail. His wife had been too close, nosing around his email and phone. I still don’t know what set her off, the perfume he likes me to wear is light, like spring flowers, and I only spray it across my breasts.

But two nights ago, after she had gone to sleep, he had called upset and worried that he was going to lose everything. “We can’t do this anymore. I can’t keep seeing you. I can’t take a chance on losing everything just because I can’t keep my cock out of you.”

Of course, I tried to calm him down, tried to be a friend and a good listener. I told him that it was alright, that he was worried about nothing, that there was nothing for her to find, that we had been careful.

It took almost an hour, but he finally seemed to soften a bit. For a minute, I thought he was going to cry, but he came around, said it wasn’t my fault, said he was sorry for brining me into his problems, that he didn’t need this kind of shit happening right now, but that I was the only good thing in his life. You know, all the right things when you are confused between the woman lying in your bed and the woman downstairs.

From my window downstairs, I watched his wife drive off the next morning. I wondered if he was up yet or if he had decided to sleep in. And I’ll be honest, I thought about leaving him alone. There was a little part of me that felt sorry for him, but then I liked what we had, I liked him.

So, wearing nothing but my skimpy little bath robe, the one that hits me right in the middle of my thighs, I walked from the second floor to the fourth. The whole way, I wrestled with what I was doing. I mean, he was trying to be a better man, right? Trying to keep his failing marriage together, but I didn’t like the fact that everything was his decision. Wasn't I part of this too? I mean, I liked us, I liked the way we fit together, his cock, the way he held me after we were spent. Can’t a girl decide what’s good for her too?

The front door was unlocked and I could hear the shower running. I looked around the place. There were bills on the kitchen table, his suit jacket was hanging on the doorknob to the second bedroom, his office, and I leaned down and smelled the lapel. I do love the way he smells.

After sneaking around a bit, the adrenaline pumping through me as I thought about the possibilities of getting caught – his wife coming home was my biggest worry, I carefully opened the bathroom door and stepped inside.

The room was filled with steam and the smell of his soap thrilled me. I pulled the curtain back and dropped the robe from my shoulders.

His eyes went wide and wandered over curve of my body.

I tucked my hair behind my ear and took him in. It was that moment, that moment where you can almost feel the energy between two people and, as I stood there naked, the steam from the shower washing around me, his eyes glued to my form, he didn’t say a word about mistakes or getting caught.

No, as I stepped under the warm spray, dropped to my knees, and wrapped my fingers around his stiffening cock; it was like he had forgotten all about his wife, all about the way we had talked the night before.

 I have no idea how late he was that morning, but I could feel my pussy for the rest of the day because that morning he had taken me like I was his. After I had bobbed my head on the end of his thick rod for a few minutes, long enough to taste the precum that oozed across my tongue, he had pulled me to my feet, kissed me, and then turned me around.

“Bend over,” he had growled.

Excitement shivered through me, like I said, I’m a girl that likes cock, and his was one of my favorites. I bent over and shot him a coy glance over my shoulder as I spread my legs. “Like this?” I asked innocently.

Without a word, he gripped my hips, his fingers dug  into the crease where my thighs met my waist.

I closed my eyes and took a breath as he lined himself up. The anticipation was enough, I was soaking wet.

And then he was in me, his cock stretching my pussy wide as he buried himself to the hilt.

I tried to dig my nails into the tile, it felt so good, the force, the way he pushed and pulled me onto his dick. I was his fuck toy, a rag doll to his animalistic thrusts.

I had never seen him last as long as he did that morning. That morning he was unstoppable, a piston, a machine. Gone was the man that usually fucked me only when I asked for it. No, that morning he was an beast – from behind under the spray of the shower, then on the edge of the sink after we toweled off, my legs wrapped around the small of his back, and finally on his bed, my hair dripping wet on his wife’s pillow.

My phone beeped. It was him. Under the picture of me, sitting in my little breakfast nook in the naughty new outfit I had gotten just for him, were the words: Don’t move. I’m on my way.

Writing Exercise - Under the Desk

“No, I don’t think you heard me,” Ethan’s voice was even, soft even, as he stared across the room, through the open door, and out at Michelle’s desk. “Well, Frank, if you can’t be there for the closing, I think it’s time I found another property lawyer.” He knew she could hear him, knew she recognized the tone in his voice, but she didn’t turn toward his office. Does she know I am watching her? Can she feel it?

“Mister Barrett, I don’t think that’s necessary. I mean, you and I have had a long…”

“Yes, Frank, I understand. Please send Michelle your final invoice. Thank you for all your help over the years.” Michelle turned her head at the sound of her name and met Ethan’s gaze. She’s really quite pretty.Ethan looked her over. Her posture was perfect; her back as straight at the cricket bat that leaned against the wall near his window. Her hair was wrapped around a black onyx chopstick, a Christmas present he had picked up in Tokyo the year before.

She smiled and then returned to the stack of paper in front of her.

“Mister Barrett, wait just a…”

Ethan set the receiver down and stepped over to the window at the back of his office. “Michelle?”

The young woman stepped into through the door and swept a rogue curl of blonde hair out of her face. “Yes, Mister Barrett?”

“We need a new property lawyer.”

She swiped a finger across the tablet in her hand. “Yes, sir.”

Ethan sat down behind his desk and watched his assistant as she concentrated on the tablet. She was dressed in a simple black skirt, a white blouse, and black high heels that had a number of straps around the ankle. She wore the shoes for me. He almost smiled at the thought. The straps were meant to remind him, the straps, and the little red tie around her neck.

“Which firm would you like to approach,” she looked up from the tablet.

“Ingram’s firm has some new blood. Imra, that was her name.”

Michelle’s fingers worked the tablet furiously and, within a moment, she had the name. “Bridgette Imra, yes, she’s at Ingram and Fletcher. Would you like me to contact her?” She looked up and the little rogue hair escaped her ear and fell across her left eye. She lifted her hand and tucked it behind her ear a little embarrassed by the way Ethan stared at her.

“Yes, call Fletcher and tell him I’m coming over tomorrow to meet with him, Ingram, and Miss Imra.”

Michelle’s touched her screen. “Absolutely, what time would you like me to tell him?” She didn’t look up.

“Six o’clock,” Ethan touched his desktop, the little inset screen in the corner, and the windows tinted to forty-percent, darkening the entire room in shades.

Michelle didn’t look up. Her feet shifted like she had to suddenly adjust her weight to remain upright, and she bit the corner of her bottom lip. Control, Michelle. Ethan watched her hands, they trembled as she manipulated the tablet, and he could almost feel her struggling. Come on, he thought,you can do this.

Michelle finished her notes, took a deep breath, without being too obvious, and composed herself before she looked back at her employer. “Is there anything else, sir?” Her voice betrayed the slightest hint of excitement but her eyes were steady and firm.

“That was well done,” he was being honest, she had learned a great deal of control over the past two weeks.

She blushed, “thank you, sir.”

“Come here,” he looked over and thought of the first night he had begun teaching her.

She took a step and then froze, “Miss Thompson, from downstairs will be arriving any minute.”

Ethan held out his hand. “Yes?”

Michelle stepped toward him, her eyes went wider with each step, but he could see the struggle. She wanted to run into his arms, wanted him to take her and pull her close.

He watched her walk, watched each stride as she moved across the room. She really was beautiful. She stopped a foot from him, he could smell her perfume.

She looked up at him. “Yes, sir?” Her voice quivered slightly, like she was barely able to force herself to obey.

“Under the desk,” Ethan pointed to the dark, little alcove his chair filled.

“Yes, sir.” Michelle swallowed and turned toward the desk.

Ethan watched her tight little ass swing as she walked away from him and remembered the red tie he had worn the first night, the tie he had used to blindfold her and then to tie her hands to the bed.

She set the tablet on the desk, bent over slowly, allowing Ethan to watch the black skirt as it rode up, and showed off the charcoal-colored stockings.

He wanted to tear them, wanted to reach down and forcibly remove and reveal the round cheeks of her ass. Control, he thought.

She climbed into the cubby-sized hole and turned around. The look on her face was priceless, her eyes shined with expectant delight. It had been weeks since Ethan had touched her, weeks since he had taken her home and shown her what a master really was.

“Mister Barrett?” Ellen Thompson, head of Barrett Industries bio-chem department stood in the doorway. “I’m sorry, Michelle wasn’t at her desk.”

Ethan took a breath and completely ignored the young woman under his desk. “No, Ellen, it’s fine. She just stepped out. Come in.” He walked over to his desk, waited until Ellen had taken a seat, and then sat and moved his chair forward.

“You wanted to talk about the recent developments with J3Th?” Ellen voice started. “As you know, testing for J3Th…”

Michelle’s fingers were on his thighs, slowly rubbing the tops of his legs, slowly moving higher.

Ethan took a deep breath. “Yes, Ellen, I know about the testing, what I was concerned with was the consistent budget overruns in your department.”

Ellen sputtered for a moment. “Yes, well, as you know, the drug has shown a marked improvement in…”

Ethan stopped listening as Michelle’s patience faltered. The rubbing stopped and her nimble fingers worked the zipper of his pants, and then scrambled inside to pull his cock free.

He focused on his breathing, staring at Ellen while she talked and making mental notes of the words of the coming out of her mouth.

It wasn’t easy. Michelle’s hands were eager, and once his cock was free, exposed to the cool air conditioning of the office, he almost visibly shivered when Michelle’s mouth enveloped him.

“Budget! You’re over budget, Ellen.” Michelle’s fingers wrapped around the base of his turgid member and began stroking him while she bobbed her head back and forth.

“Yes, I understand, but if you can give the team a little more time, I think…”

Ethan shifted in his seat. He could barely focus. His cheeks felt hot, and his heart was beating like he had just finished a run.

Michelle’s mouth was so hot, so wet and the way she sucked, and tugged and wrapped her rough little tongue around the tip.

He thought of the red tie, the way he had bound her hands while he had buried his head between her legs, the way she had squealed while he had sucked her clit.

Every part of him wanted to reach under the desk and grab the back of Michelle’s head. He needed to fuck her face, needed to thrust his hips into her eager mouth.

“How many more days?” He wondered if Ellen heard the strain in his voice.

Ellen glanced at the window behind him and then back. “Seven. We need seven more days.”

It felt like his cock was at the back of Michelle’s throat; like she had swallowed every inch of him and the familiar pressure was starting to build. His chest tightened and he felt short of breath as he focused on trying to h

Can I do it? Can I come right now in front of Ellen without her knowing?

He felt Michelle shiver. Her mouth, her hand, she quivered around him and he realized she had just cum, silently, on the end of cock. And it was too much.

He took a little breath and stared down at his desk like he was considering what Ellen was saying when, in reality, he was shooting his seed in Michelle’s mouth.

She swallowed and then slid off his cock as he contracted again and again.

“That’s fine, Ellen.” Ethan said, “Seven days.”

Ellen stood and offered her hand, but Ethan just looked at it and then the door.

When she was gone, he pushed the chair back and stared down at Michelle. She was a mess. Most of her smiling, happy face was covered in his cum and there was a glistening wet spot on her stockings.

Chase Meeks: The Breakup

 

 

Chase Meeks: The Breakup...

is live on Smashwords and Amazon!  This is the first part of an erotic series that is outlined to be three books as it stands, but may end up being one more.  :) 

The story is a departure from my normal wham-bam style which, I hope, works well and people like.  It is told, first person, by our male protagonist, Chase, and comes complete with footnotes.  Footnotes?  I know, it's something new I thought I would try out.

Like I said, the story is told in a first-person narrative and I thought footnotes made some of Chase's thoughts more clear, funnier, and added a nice little icing on the story.  It's something I have never seen before in erotica and I would love to know what everyone things of it.

Anyway, there is tons of new stuff coming out before the holidays, keep checking back and, as always, THANKS FOR READING.

Here is a snippet from the story.  Enjoy!

I left Economics 212 and stood in the hallway with my campus map desperately trying to find Advanced Algebra 210.  Glancing up, I saw a few other kids doing the same thing, stumbling out of classrooms like they had wandered into the wrong bathroom. Finally I found it, second floor of the building I was standing in.

Running like a man being chased by wolves², I hit the staircase, rounded two corners, dodged countless other lost souls, and blasted through the large wooden door that led to the class I needed. 

I was late.

The door closed behind me with a loud clank that echoed around the room and I realized the error of my ways. 

Every face in the room turned toward me, hundreds of them, all dusky blue sitting under the dimmed lights and projector shadow.  My heart dropped somewhere around my nuts. 

I glanced at the screen that hung along the front of the class.  It was covered in equations, long, hand-drawn equations in black marker.  The lecture had already begun.

I turned and looked at the teacher on the little stage at the bottom of the stadium seating. 

She met my eyes with a smile.  “It’s okay,” she said.  “Please tell me that you need Advanced Algebra 210.”

“Um,” My mind went blank.  Everything stopped.  Nothing in my head seemed to be working³.  I just stood there and stared at her for a few seconds.  She was gorgeous, unbelievably gorgeous.  No, I am serious, she was like an actress on television, too pretty, the kind of woman you hardly ever see out in the real world.

I took her in.⁴ 

She was younger than I thought a college professor could be.  She was older than me, but I couldn’t tell by how much, five years?  Maybe ten?  The age just made her hotter though.⁵

Standing there in black skirt, black shoes, and white blouse she was perfect.  I couldn’t get stop staring – long blond hair pulled back in a bun, thick-rimmed glasses, lips that looked like she was constantly pouting, and a body that said she spent a lot of time at the gym.  Smitten doesn’t describe what I felt.  I couldn’t breathe.

“Right?  You are looking for Advanced Algebra 210?”  Her voice broke through the hypnosis. 

I don’t know how long I had been standing there but my heart was racing.  “Alegra!  Advanced Algebra 210!  Yes!” 

The entire room chuckled but this time I didn’t feel like dropping everything and running away.  This time I joined in and laughed at myself.  I not only deserved their laughter, I understood it.  I was a wreck of a human being.  She had stopped me cold in my tracks, broken my brain for a second or two. 

What the fuck is wrong with me?  Why can’t I speak in complete sentences?  Is she really the professor, maybe she’s the professor’s aid or assistant, they do that right?  What was that look in her eye?  Was there a look in her eye?  How about that cute girl in the second row, she was checking me out.⁶

“Alright,” the professor smiled.  “Go ahead and find a seat.  We are on page six of the text if you brought it, if not just follow along.  This is just review stuff.”  Her voice was warm and understanding.

Quick Note

Needed a change of pace so I completely reworked a short story from last year and would very much like to get a few reviews.  

Its FREE on Smashwords - which covers just about any format you can think of.  

Hope you enjoy it and please leave a review!

Katie's Long Holiday

#brainscribble - Erotica (Sticky With It)

I like to get sticky.

I could tell you weren't expecting it.  You are always such a gentleman when we go out, never assuming how the evening will end.  I have always appreciated that about you, always enjoyed the look on your face when I invite you inside, or agree to go back to your place.  It's so cute, that little flash of excitement, that mischievous grin, it's as if you won a prize and can't wait to receive it.

But last night was different.  Last night we both knew what was going to happen before we even left for the party.  I'll be honest with you; it was all I could do not to strip you of that suit the minute you showed up at my door.  God, you looked so good.  I love it when you come straight from work; you're all dressed up, those perfect pants, leather shoes, and starched-crisp shirts.  You fit so well into a suit all I want to do is take it off of you; it’s like unwrapping a present.

At the party, I couldn't stop watching you slide around the room.  It was exactly how you described it, all those bankers and brokers, everyone playing at civility even when you hate each other.  The women are just stuck there.  We are little more than arm candy, your little trophies that are supposed to sparkle under the chandeliers.  I don't mind as much as some, I like getting away with you.  You could take me anywhere and I would be happy.  I like the way you show me off, the little looks you give me from across the room that tell me what's really happening behind the smiles, handshakes, and quiet laughter.  I love to watch the people, watch them look around, watch their faces give away what they are really thinking when they think no one is looking.

You should know, every woman in the room watched you.  I caught more than a few glancing your way, checking out your ass, or just admiring the shape of you under that suit.  I would bet money that most of them would have paid to get away with you.  Your bosses wife linger on the back of you as you walked by.  I watched her eyes glaze over as she imagined what you look like out of that suit.  It was hot.  I kept coming up with stories for the scenes she was imagining.  But every cocktail I slipped off a passing tray made me more and more anxious to steal you out of there.

That cab ride back was difficult.  Just keeping my hands to myself and concentrating on what you were saying was almost exhausting.  All I could think about was touching you and you kept going on about all of the people at the party, all of the things that were happening just under the surface at the firm.  It was like I was barely there, but I was determined.  Smiling and nodding like I was listening, all I wanted was to tear your shirt open, and lick your chest.  I wanted to bury my face into your neck, smell your cologne, and nibble the skin just under your earlobe.  I wanted to feel your arms pull me into you. But you kept going.  I caught the driver’s eyes in the mirror and he gave a little shrug like he knew exactly what I was thinking, that I wanted to straddle you, spread my legs across you, and press your bulge against my soaking panties.

All of that is what made me do it.  All of that build up, that unrequited anticipation is what bubbled over the minute I closed the door.  I couldn't take it anymore.  All I wanted was you, your lips, your tongue, your skin, your heat against me.  That's why I did it.  Why I yanked you inside, pressed you against the wall, and tore your shirt open.  I couldn't control myself.

Buttons bouncing across the wood floor.  I keep running it over and over again in my mind.  It still makes me wet.  The way we kissed against the wall, the way your tongue and lips tasted like bourbon.  Your cock, as hard as I have ever seen it, was so thick and throbbing once I slipped it free of your zipper.  Every nerve in my body was on fire while you squeezed my tits through my dress.  I felt like I was going to explode, like I could barely breathe, like I wanted to crawl inside of your skin and become part of you.

You looked so happy when I started to kiss my way down your chest.  I had an orgasm just dropping to my knees.  I couldn't help it.  Kissing the ripples of muscle along your belly, my fingertips sliding along your skin, that fat dick twitching in front of me, I let go.

My fingers wrapped around the base of you, the tip of you between my lips, the swelling of your flesh as you slid deeper into my mouth - I'm wet just remembering the way you wrapped your fingers in my hair.  God, it felt so good, your cock sliding in and out, throbbing as you got closer and closer.  My pussy throbbing as you started to moan.  I knew you were about to come.  I looked up, pulled my arms out of my dress, and let my breasts slip free.  You grinned and then closed your eyes.

I slipped a finger into my dripping hole determined to come when you did.

God, you tasted so good, that first splash of hot, salty cum.  I swallowed and then showered my chest with the rest.  Every tug on your slick dick and another bolt of cum would spray the curve of my breasts. 

I like to get sticky.  And I know you loved it, watching me decorate my breasts with your dripping pleasure.  

I like to get sticky and let you watch me play with it, lick it off my nipples, swirl it around my skin.

#brainscribble - Erotica (Expectation Pt. 2)

I dry off and put on a pair of black lace undies and a matching bra before wandering to the closet to pick out the perfect dress.  He'll be here any minute, I know, but I want something that stirs him the moment I open the door, something that immediately makes him want to unwrap me like a present on Christmas.  It has been two months since he has been in town and a day hasn't gone by that I didn't think about him, miss him, long for his touch.  There have been others but he is the one always haunting the back of my mind, lingering in a way that others don't or can't.

Fingers fumbling through the fabrics, sliding through the double row of bright colors - blouses, dresses, pants,  camisoles.  I can't find what I want.  I pull out a dress, hold it up, check myself in the mirror, and decide against it.  I slap the metal hook back on the rack and my eyes fall on the clock.  I have two minutes, maybe less, before the doorbell rings and he's standing there.  I grab a little black number, poly-rayon blend, it's low cut in the front and hits just about mid-thigh.  I grab the shoes I bought to match it, high, metal heels and lots of little straps.

I throw the dress over my head.  The fabric hugs me, outlines every curve.  I sit on the edge of the bed with the shoes.  I have always loved these shoes, so many straps winding around the ankle and up onto the calf.  I feel sexy just cinching the buckles tight.

Hair is next.  No time for something fancy, I comb it straight, twist it into a bun, and impale it with a long, jade hair pin he brought from China last year.  As soon as my fingers touch it, my mind tumbles back to the day he brought it for me.  The first time I used it.  The first time he slipped it out and my hair fell to my shoulders.

Our relationship is not a terribly complicated one. We met in an airport.  He is a pilot.  Tall, dark, and handsome in a Southern California high school football star kind of way.  If there is a pilot pinup calendar, he should be on it.

He likes black and white movies and a Highland Scotch - neat with a water back, the same way I do.  When our eyes met from across the room, he made his way over to me.  I was sitting at the bar waiting on a flight and he had just landed.

We stared at each other as he walked from the gate to my side.  It was instant magnetism.  We both knew the score before he made it half way.  He asked what I was drinking, a typical question when I am sitting at any bar, but his reaction to the answer locked us together in the way we are today.

"Did I tell you that you could drink my drink?"
"I didn't ask," I answered incapable of taking my eyes off his.
"You will from now on."

It's been over a year and I have seen him probably ten times.  I look forward to little else as much as the time we spend together.  Our relationship is unique in a way that thrills me.

My heart is racing.

The mirror reflects and I start to check for details that might be out of place.  It was a rush job but I need to look as close to perfect as possible.  I already have a strike against me, the glistening moisture between my thighs.

My eyes check the clock again.  He's seconds away, I can almost feel it.  I close the closet doors, straighten my glasses, and roll the lint roller over my shoulders.  As close to perfect as I'm going to get, I think as I take one more overall look at myself in the mirror.  Lipstick!  I rush to the dresser and grab a deep red, his favorite color and start to apply it.

I'm just smacking my lips together when the doorbell sounds.  It's him.  My breath catches, and I can hear my heart beating.  He's here.

Update, Lookout, and Almost Apology

Alright, I know many of you have been wondering why I haven't been on Google+, Twitter, and Facebook as much lately.  Every time I peek around the corner into those little internet worlds, I hear your grumblings, questions, and see the pouty-pout faces.  I would apologize for my sudden disappearance except I am not going to.  :)

Instead, I thought I would stop in here and send a note out to the all my friends, readers, followers, circle buddies, etc., and try to explain what has been going on.  Quite simply, I have been writing.  I have been working on two stories simultaneously, which is not as easy as it sounds or I expected.  Hopefully they will both make it to the shelves by the end of this year with any luck, but I am not letting them go until they are right which is taking up an enormous amount of my time.

These stories are going to be a little different.  To those of you who have been reading what I have published since July and here on the blog, this is going to be a bit of shock.  Both stories are a bit of a departure from the erotica I have been writing lately.  These stories are more character driven rather than sex driven.  Why the change?  No real reason, both had started out as simple erotica ideas, but both developed into something more while I sat and outlined and came up with character sketches.  These characters have stories that transcend (maybe that's not the right word) the simple story lines and/or scenes I have been putting out.  Simply, (and maybe a little crazy ) both protagonists were unhappy with the idea of a ten to fifteen thousand word short story.  Both (that's two characters in my head!), wanted more real estate than the short story.  So, one is going to be a series and one is going to be however long it takes to get her to shut up - could be a novella could be a full blown hundred thousand words.

It may sound like I am complaining, but I'm not.  It's nice to actually get into writing a more complete story, something closer to the literary fiction that I love to read.  Don't get me wrong, I love the little smut stories I have been putting out there.  I think they have their place in the spectrum and I have enjoyed writing them and hearing what you have thought. But these two are going a little different direction.  Are they erotica?  I am fairly sure, at this point anyway, that they are.  Both have an arc that points them in that direction.  The series' arc is based on an erotic theme and the story line winds around it.

The second story is constantly evolving which is a whole new experience for me as a writer.  I have character sketches that are pretty solid and working, but the outline is constantly changing.  As soon as I get something written, a good two or three thousand words, something will happen in the story that alters the future and I have to change the outline to accommodate.  I have never had a story morph in such a way, but it's exciting and I like nothing better than typing away on it.

There it is, my explanation for my absence, my writer's note that is supposed to get me excused from all of the social media.  :)  I am still around if anyone needs me, just drop me a line or catch me, if you can, when I pop up here and there.  Until I come out of these two projects, please enjoy what I have written since the beginning of summer and remember, I miss you all as much as you miss me.

#brainscribble - Erotica (Expectation Pt. 1)

I hear my phone chime and casually pick it up.  It's a text message from him, five words: "I am on my way."  My heart immediately jumps in my chest.  I look around my place for anything that looks like it might need straightening.  There's still a coffee cup on the counter and a saucer from my breakfast.  That will have to be cleaned and put away.  The couch pillows are not straight but everything else looks neat.  I will have to double check the bedroom, I think.

I look down at myself, still un-showered, sitting on the couch in a t-shirt and panties,and reading through my Twitter and Facebook.  I am in an unacceptable state.

The clock says ten thirty.  My thoughts fly through the math, I might have twenty minutes, depending on when the text was sent.  I jump off the couch and dash to the bathroom.  Showering is a must.  He's going to want me clean, smelling of soap, and ready.

I slip under the spray of the water and immediately think of it.  It has been a long time, two weeks, too long,  I have missed it but have said nothing.  It is mine but not on my terms.  I am only a follower, a disciple of its heft and weight, a worshiper.

The water slips over my skin and I think of masturbating but know that it will not please him to find me already wet and wanting.  That is his delight, drenching me, bringing me to the very edge of total bliss, and then pushing me off, over, and letting me fall into moans of delight.  I am forbidden from starting without him but that doesn't stop me from wanting to.  I feel the rebellion well inside me.  So many instructions, so many expectations.  I will be punished if I disobey.

I slide my hands over my breasts, under the curves of them as the water runs along me.  I cannot stop thinking about it and I can feel the warmth spreading through me.

My fingers move down my belly.  Part of me wants to stop them but the other part, the part that has my heart racing and my breath coming faster and faster while I imagine it, is stronger.  I am no match for my own desire.  I want to come.  I am already wet just thinking about it, the way it will stand and throb, eager for my attention.  The way I will worship it with every part of me.  I can't help myself.  I have to do it, have to reach down and spread myself open, let the water trickle between my lips, run over my most sensitive parts of me.

I close my eyes and spread myself.  It feels so good.  I am tingling all over.  I see colors behind my eyes as my fingertip crosses the swollen nub and swirls around it, mixing my own juices with the splashing water.

I slip a finger into my mouth and slide my tongue around it.  I want it to be him.  I want suck him in, feel him fill my mouth, listen to the deep moan escape his lips while I kneel at the alter of his manhood. My knees go weak.  I press my hand against the shower wall to steady myself.  I can wait no longer.

My finger slides down and pushes into the darkness.  I bite my lip as every muscle inside me tenses.  I know that if I move, it will happen, the lightning will bolt through me and rattle every nerve.  I hold my breath and press the finger deeper.  The pleasure surges through me, washes over me.  I am flushed.  I can feel the redness in my cheeks.  My hips move forward and I shiver and softly moan.

I will be punished for my disobedience but I do not care.  The expectation was too much and I know I have even more to look forward to.

The Elizabeth Jacobson Series - A Paranormal Erotic/Urban Fantasy Thriller

The Elizabeth Jacobson Series - A Paranormal Erotic/Urban Fantasy Thriller

I have been getting a lot of questions and comments about the series over the last few days and I thought I would answer them here.

1. What is Paranormal Erotica?
Simply put, it's erotica that involves characters that are outside the "normal".  In the world the series is based in, vampires live among humans and have since the beginning of time.

2. The story has a lot of sex.
Yes it does.  I write a great deal of erotica and I thought the sex scenes in this book were fun - it adds a new element to the erotica.  The vampires in this series are much closer to human than in other worlds and universes that authors have created.  Mine have feelings, memories, etc. but they are considerably stronger physically and mentally due to the change.

3. What's it about?
 I have gotten four emails with this question or a slight variation.  The series follows the protagonist Elizabeth Jacobson who is, currently, an assassin - in both the human world and the vampire world.  She is just over a 150.

In Kansas City, where the beginning of the series is set, a hunter has been killing vampires by the truck load.  The local ruling council of vampires calls her in to "deal" with the situation.  The story moves on from there.

4. Do I plan to write more?  
Yes.  I have two parts finished and there will probably be four more, from what I can tell so far.

5. What is the title of the 2nd book? 
Ten Days of Death

6. Why is the second book more than the first?  
I priced the second book the way I did because it is considerably longer than the first book.  Simple as that.

#brainscribble - Erotica (Tent Sex)

It's Saturday and the sky has been covered in gray clouds since breakfast.  The rain has been looming, daring us to go out, to attempt the hike up the mountain we planned yesterday.  We have both been watching it, looking up at the patches of sky between the giant trees that surround us, and then back at each other wondering silently what the other thinks of the chances.

I am packing up breakfast when the first drops start to fall.  They plink on the frying pan in my hands and then start to thump around us everywhere.  I look over at you and you are already scrambling, grabbing the things we have had out since we arrived and moving them under cover.  The raindrops are those big ones, the ones that you can feel, four or five times bigger than normal, but they are falling slow, bombarding us.  They are the warning shots of what's ahead, the scouts splashing here and there, one lands on my arm and explodes with a thump.

Thunder rolls across the sky and echoes through the trees around us.  You are moving this way and that, dashing around our little plot grabbing the first thing your eyes fall on and deciding where to put it.  You are like a cartoon character, everything is in fast forward.

I finish washing the pan and dash to the tent just as the sky lets go.  You are still moving the coolers, and cups, and paper plates but it's too late, your shirt is already starting to stick to you, staring to outline the muscles of your back, the curves of your shoulders.  You look up at the sky and then at me sitting in the doorway of the tent.  You shrug and smile.  The rain is turning the air gray.  There is no wind but the sound is almost deafening.  You are soaked.  Your shirt has become gray cotton skin, clinging to every contour of you while the rain splashes what was dust a minute ago into mud around your tennis shoes.

You run for the tent and dive in leaving only your feet outside the little door.   You kick off your shoes and wriggle in while I close the tent flap behind you.  You giggle and the tones immediately disappear in thunder of the rain on the tent.  A little trail of water is already pooling from your clothes.  I sit beside you and push your hair away from your forehead.  We laugh.  There will be no hiking today.  We are prisoners in our little cloth home.

You sit up and I take your shirt off.  The cloth is heavy, it drips as I scrunch it my hands and lift it over your head revealing your true skin, the skin that is stretched tight over you, the skin that outlines the sculpture that is your body.  I let my eyes trail over you.  I love your body.

I toss the shirt beside the door and lay my hand on your chest.  I can feel your heat beating under the muscles.  A breeze passes around us.  It's almost cold on my wet clothes.  You shiver under my touch and wrap your arms around me, pulling me close to you.

We tumble back onto the tent floor and our lips meet.  The thunder rolls across the sky and I slip on top of you, lay my body on top of yours, press myself into you while our tongues dance between our mouths.

You slide your hands along my back and under my shirt.  I love the way it feels, your strong hands on me, they way you move them and then grip me, holding me against you, the muscles of your arms squeeze me.  I'm so tiny compared to you.

Another breeze slips through the tent windows.  My back is cold except where your skin touches me.  I am warm against you.  I reach my hand down the front of us, I can feel you pressing against me, that bulge between my thighs.  I slip my legs onto the tent floor and lay my hands on the mound at your waist.  You are pressing against the zipper of your damp blue jeans.  I can feel you throbbing between my fingers.  Warmth spreads through me.  I almost shiver the way it moves down my body, stopping between my legs.

Your fingers run across mine and then you are unbutton the fabric and pulling down the zipper. I jump in and start to pull them down.  You wiggle back and forth, the denim is soaked and fights us.  I laugh at the sight of us while you grunt and groan and I pull the denim and your boxers free.  There it is, big and thick and throbbing.

The rain is thundering against the tent, the air is rushing around us.  Everything smells like damp leaves, the beginnings of fall, a million memories.  I can feel the twigs and stones on my knees through the tent floor.  I love the way it feels, being outside, here, with you.  I strip my shirt and toss it away.  I wrap my fingers around the base of you.  Your skin is so hot.  I want it.  I lick my lips and lower them toward you.  Even among the rain and thunder, I hear you softly moan.

Prevot's Erotic Fiction News!

It's been a super busy month!  Just wanted to pop in and let everyone know about the new stuff, the changes, and everything else.

SUPER HUGE THANK YOU TO ALL MY NEW FOLLOWERS, READERS, and FRIENDS

I would really like to thank all of you who have read me, befriended me, followed me, retweeted me, circled me, liked me, etc. on all the social sights.  You guys are awesome and I thank you from the bottom of my heart.  This was a very scary experience for me when I started out, but it has become something that I love and you all made that possible.  THANK YOU!

I look forward to interacting with you all and I hope you love what I do.

PRICES REDUCED AT AMAZON

Almost everything on Amazon has been dropped to .99 cents.  Yep, you heard it, almost everything is on sale.  So...go grab some and get to reading!

FREE STORY ON SMASHWORDS

In an effort to get a little attention - you know I need all I can get, I posted The Nanny and The Neighbor for free.  I would love to hear what you think about it.  :)

NEW RELEASES

Parts 1 & 2 of the Elizabeth Jacobson Stories came out this month!  That's Old Lovers, New Money and Ten Days of Death.  This series is getting interesting!  If you like urban, paranormal, adventure erotica - this series is right up your alley.

Katie's Failing Grade came out this month.  Starts off with the traditional Professor/Student relationship and then twists off into a little BDSM.  Very fun!

To Tell a Secret - A Taste of Amy's Whip came out early in August.  Super fun story that I am currently writing part 2 of.  Keep an out!

#brainscribble Erotica

She’s lying on her back, pretending to be asleep, when he comes into the room.  The late summer breeze was too warm and she has already kicked the sheets off of her.  When she peaks through her eye lashes she can see him.  It’s hard not to smile, watching him stare down at her naked body sprawled across his bed. 

He’s wrapped, from the waist down, in a bath towel.  His hair is a damp, disheveled mess. 

She watches him, staring down at her.  The bulge behind the towel is growing.  A tingle sweeps over her.  She tries not to move, but she knows her nipples have gone hard.  She can feel them rising, stretching tight. 

He grins, remembers last night, the way she looked over her shoulder at him and arched her back on all fours. 

She sees him grin.  Does he know I’m awake?  She thinks.

The towel starts to spread, his cock pushing against the fold, pointing straight at her.

He takes a step forward and she holds her breath.  He leans forward and towel slips free.  She opens her eyes as his lips touch hers.

She reaches out, wraps her fingers around his throbbing mass, takes a hold of him like it was a handle.

He moans.

She wants it in her mouth, between her breasts, sliding in out of her.

He crawls onto the bed while she strokes him, their tongues dancing between their lips, the fire of last night still fresh between them.  He is going to be late for work and she is going to make it worth his while.  

Ten Days of Death - Elizabeth Jacobson Stories (Vampire)

Ten Days of Death

The second installment of Elizabeth Jacobson's story is live on Amazon.  

Elizabeth Jacobson has teamed up the one of the city's finest police officer's to go over the hunter's file and the long list of murders.  Horrified by the brutality and cruelty levied on the vampires of the city, she is determined to find and end his killing spree, but the hunter has something else in mind, something special, just for her.

This one is quite a bit longer than the first one, but there was/is a lot of ground left to cover in this story.  Chapter 2 gives the reader a better look at Elizabeth as a character.  Following her around, we get to really understand who she is, what she is about, and a little bit of her back story.  This chapter also brings in another character, James, who is a member of the city's SWAT team.  He's been assigned to Elizabeth to bring her up to speed on the hunter.

I hope you enjoy it!  Please leave a comment on Amazon or here or Twitter if you do!

And now, the teaser...

A younger vampire came through the kitchen door and walked over to Red.  They spoke into each other’s ears but I couldn’t hear what they were saying.  Then Red made his way toward me with two full pints of beer.
“I thought you’d be taller,” he said, taking the chair opposite mine.“I’m wound pretty tight.”“Yeah,” he laughed, “you must be.  We’re connected, you know, you and I.”I folded the rest of the envelope’s contents and tucked them back inside.  I was about to reach for my beer when his words stopped me.
“Remember Robert Ghiles?”
I remembered immediately.It had been a quick job in Vegas.  Robert Ghiles had gotten in over his head with the wrong people.  He had killed two police officers that worked for the ruling Italian family.  He was under government protection as a witness for the prosecution.  They had called me to make him disappear.  It was almost a routine stop.  I was in and out in less than three days.
I suddenly saw the resemblance between the two men; they both had the same shape to their head, the same broad shoulders, and deep set eyes.  I could feel the anger coming off of Red in waves.
“I should kill you where you sit,” he growled.
Looking in his eyes, and doing my best to catch every detail, I could tell he was warming to the idea.
“It’s disgusting what you do, killing your own kind.”  The angrier he became, the quieter he seemed to get.  A few at the bar looked over, concerned.  This was going pear-shaped quick.  

Erotic Poetry - A Poem for a Monday

A Poem for a Monday

Come lovely
Lay your head between my thighs
Breathe
Lick
Suck

Come lovely
Lift your hand to me
Spread
Slide
Fuck

Come Lovely

Let me kiss you

Lips

Tongue

Mouth

Come lovely
It has been a long day
Moan
Coo
Come