A reader posted a review on Amazon the other day, and I really liked what she had to say…
“It’s not every author who can bring forth a short story and leave a lasting impression on me. With Hotter With a Pole, not only was I left satisfied with the content, but I was also impressed by the range of emotions and the overall story.”
Hotter With a Pole is over 20,000 words, so I’m assuming she mostly reads full-length stories or at the very least category-length (think of some of Harlequin’s shorter series). 20,000 words is as long as I like to write, although I know most readers thirst for longer. Some writers can write long with ease, and maybe a lot of deep angsting, but I write romances the way I’ve experienced them—hot and fast. After all, the old advice to a writer is “Write what you know”. And it does take skill to cram a full story into fewer words.
So today, I just wanted to remind you of all the truly short stories I have published. If ever you’re in need of something lightning fast while you’re waiting at the doctor’s office or as little something right before you go to bed, you might check these out. Many are in the Kindle Unlimited store for free for you KU subscribers. All are only $0.99 for everyone else.
Enjoy the short-short shorty I have posted below. Sometimes a tease is all you need. 🙂
All About Me
I awoke slowly, enjoying the pleasant tingling that calluses left on my belly. A man’s rough hands smoothed over me.
It wasn’t every day that I woke with someone else sharing my bed. My heart skipped a beat. And then I remembered. Craig. That was his name. I was in bed with a stranger named Craig.
Daylight teased the edges of my eyelids, but I squeezed them shut again, not ready yet to end the bliss. I could pretend for at least a couple of moments longer that we meant more to each other than just a heat of the moment fling.
Still, he’d stayed the night, and the heaviness of the cock poking at my backside telegraphed the fact he wasn’t in any hurry to leave.
A kiss touched the corner of my neck.
“You awake?” he growled then licked the bottom edge of my ear lobe.
“Not yet. Do that some more,” I mumbled.
His chuckle was warm, wicked.
I stretched my legs then snuggled my butt closer to his erection. “I’m awake enough,” I whispered.
“And I’m interested, as you can tell,” he murmured. “But you owe me something first.”
I groaned and pushed my face into the pillow, wanting to hide because he’d risen on an elbow and was pushing my hair behind my ear to peer at me.
He cupped a breast, thumbing the nipple. “You promised.”
“I wasn’t in my right mind.”
“Coward.”
I whimpered, and then turned onto my back to meet his gaze. “Why don’t you go first?”
He shook his head, a smile twitching at the corners of his lips. “Now, see? That’s not what I want. And you said I could have anything I wanted if I made you come.”
I snorted. “How do know you I didn’t fake it?”
A sexy grin stretched across his face. “Baby, you came so hard you peed on me.”
His soft laughter made my cheeks burn. I narrowed my eyes. “And to think Bev said you were a nice guy.”
His eyebrows gave a waggle. “Not too nice. And aren’t you glad? Besides, you’re cute when you get embarrassed.”
I wrinkled my nose. “Didn’t seem to bother you a bit.”
“Why should it? I like you wet.” He came over me, sighing as he settled between my legs.
“What else do you like?” I asked, running my fingertips lightly up his back.
He dipped his head and bit my ear. “You’re stalling.”
His breath tickled my neck and I raised my shoulder. “Why not just fuck me?”
“Because this’ll be more intimate.”
“More so than fucking?”
His cheek glided up and down against my neck as he nodded.
I rolled my eyes, thinking hard, or at least as hard as I could with his cock sliding up and down between my folds. “Can I do it faced away?” I gasped.
“What do you think?” Abruptly, he pushed up then knelt between my thighs. “Need pillows?”
“Don’t be helpful,” I groused.
“You really don’t like this.”
I felt like screaming my frustration. He was right there. I was open. Eager. And yet, he sat watching, his expression firming into that hard mask that had made me tear at my clothes the moment he’d closed the bedroom door. “I might like this better if we were in the middle of something, but like this it feels—”
“Dirty?”
I nodded. At last, he understood. Now maybe he’d move closer.
“Do you know what attracted me to you first?”
I blinked at his segue.
“How bold you are.”
Liar. However, I didn’t mind that he goaded me. His needling challenges had led us to this bed. Something I couldn’t regret.
His hands soothed up and down my inner thighs and his gaze dropped to my sex. But the exposure—my pussy to daylight—wasn’t quite so embarrassing because he was arranging me again, lifting my knees, placing my heels just so. Like he was creating a picture for his pleasure. Then he laid his palms against my inner thighs and opened me further.
He could see right inside me. A blush swept my skin, cheeks to breasts.
His nostrils flared as he gazed down. I was happier than I ever would have admitted when he’d allowed me to bathe after my “accident”—then relieved that he’d changed the sheets while I’d cowered in the shower. He hadn’t let me hide there for long, jerking back the curtain and joining me there to “wash” his dick inside me.
My modesty lay in shreds. Oddly, this engendered a feeling of deep, fierce elation. I’d never been with anyone like him. Someone who could make me laugh one moment, then shiver with anticipation with just a single, commanding glare.
I didn’t know him well enough to trust him. And yet, I was thrilled he was here even if he was busy staring at my intimate parts. “You just gonna look?”
“I’m waiting.”
Fuck. He expected me to keep that promise. The one I’d given when he was laughing, holding me against him when we were both so wet, and I’d been desperate for a little privacy to groan at my lack of self control.
“I’m still waiting.”
The texture of his voice, so firm, excited me. I couldn’t get my head wrapped around the idea of how much I wanted him. Or that I needed him to be in charge. Of me.
From the first moment we’d been introduced at dinner by friends, I’d been caught.
All it had taken was one long, challenging look from his dark blue eyes and I’d felt instantly aroused, and then annoyed with myself because I wanted him and he knew it.
Just like he knew it now.
His fingers trailed from my clit straight into my slick folds. He swirled in moisture then licked his fingers, all the while holding my gaze. “Anytime, Heather.”
“This’ll be quick,” I muttered, blushing again.
“Fast, slow—I don’t care. But you have to come.”
“And you think you’ll know?”
He canted his head. “I know the look.”
“I have a look?”
“Oh yeah.”
“Can I close my eyes?”
One dark brow arched.
I shook my head. “I didn’t know you were such a control freak.”
“Yeah, you did,” he said softly. “Start wherever you want.”
I swallowed, knowing I was through stalling because I was horribly aroused. I cupped my breasts, hoping that watching me would entice him to join in and end this. He’d said he liked my breasts, and the tips were sore from where he’d played endlessly—licking, flicking, sucking, biting…
My nipples hardened and I plucked and twisted them, pulling then letting them go to jiggle my breasts.
But he remained still, watching, with his hands on his knees as he knelt between my spread thighs.
What the hell? Why did I care that he watched? His intense stare and the color darkening his face said he was into it. That I was turning him on. His cock pulsed, jutting from his groin, hard and thick.
My hands smoothed down my belly; fingertips scraped through the short blonde hair on my mound. I used one hand to spread my folds, the other to tease my clit, swirling on the knot until it grew harder and stretched the hood, causing it to slide away.
Then I thrust two fingers into my pussy, curving my hips to deepen my reach. I let go of my folds and slid a hand beneath my ass, teasing my perineum while I thrust my fingers deeper and twisted them.
Wetness oozed from inside me, soaking my hand, slipping lower to trickle toward my asshole. And because his breathing was becoming louder, raspier, I dared more—using the moisture to wet a fingertip and stick it in my ass.
“Sure you don’t want some of this?” I asked, my voice husky. I lifted my legs and curled my abdomen, the muscles of my belly burning to hold the cramped position, but now I could stroke both holes deeper and he could see everything I did.
My thumb twiddled my clit while I fucked myself. I tucked another finger inside my ass and gave up trying to look pretty, trying not to make faces or unattractive noises, and just let go. My orgasm bloomed, and my face screwed up into that expression, the one he knew meant I was coming—and I flew. My cry was soft and floated away.
Hands slipped over my knees to ease them down. I blinked, only just realizing I’d closed my eyes there at the end.
Craig came over me, waiting as I slowly pulled my fingers from inside me. Then he fit his cock to my entrance and thrust deep into the moist, hot center of me.
We rocked together, me clutching his back, him growling as he thrust faster and harder. Another quick flash burn of pleasure swept me. He shouted, sharpening his shortened thrusts—until he made the face I knew meant he’d found his own orgasmic bliss.
I smiled, damn near purring as his breaths evened out. “You owe me now.”
He grunted. “Think I’ll mind you watching me jerk off?”
“You’ll mind, because I get to say when you can come.”
He blinked then barked a laugh. “You do know it’s going to take me a little while.”
I wrinkled my nose. “I, on the other hand, suffer no such handicap.” I reached up and gripped his ears, then tugged him downward, showing him exactly how he could pass the time.
I’m late posting this today. I’m relaxing a bit. So far, I ate breakfast, went for a swim, took a shower… I’ve been looking through emails trying to catch up. I hope to write new words later today…
Conquests was a labor intensive effort to get produced. Now, it’s out there, and I can’t wait to see what people think. I’ve done collections before (see my Collections website), selecting the stories and doing the first round edits, but then I had the luxury of throwing it over the fence to the publisher to handle “the rest.” This time, I had to arrange the intensive editing, the promotion, the corralling of authors to help with getting the word out. They also helped with the art work, the blurb, etc. It was a true group effort! I hope all goes well, because I’d love to do more of them—be it for other publishers or on my own.
Next up will be the tentatively titled Rogue Hearts…
Conquests begs the question, is there a market still for erotic anthologies of short stories? I’d love to hear your opinions. From my perspective as a reader, I gravitate toward shorter fiction because 1) I have very limited reading time, and 2) I appreciate the skill it takes to condense a complete story into a shorter format. Of course, I’ve been doing the latter for several years now, so I know I’m biased! 🙂
I’d love to do more historical anthologies—medieval knights and Ancient warriors—and of course, more iconic contemporary heroes—more cowboys, Spec Ops dudes, etc. Is there anything you’re eager to see? I’d like to do one or two collections every year (it’s all I have time for given my writing schedule).
If you’d like to chat with the authors who contributed to this book, go like our Facebook page at: Conquests: Viking Romance. We’re busy planning events to tempt you to play. And again, there will be prizes involved, so I know you don’t want to miss that either.
And in the meantime, you can pre-order our book. Right now, it’s just $0.99—but that price won’t last! Here’s the link: Conquests
And if you’d like to read excerpts from the stories inside Conquests, head to our blog: Conquests Blog
You probably already know what inspired the title of my story, “How to Train Your Skjaldmaer.”
Yeah, I’m a big fan of the movie. I think I’ve watched it a dozen times with the kids. I never mind when they beg to see it one more time.
So, when I was trying to come up with a title for my story in Conquests, the phrase “how to train…” kept banging around. Add that to my love of stories about Viking shieldmaidens, who were female warriors who fought alongside the men, and there you have it.
I loved my story from the first scene when my hero, who has come to retrieve his bride, first sees his wife. Enjoy!
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How to Train Your Skjaldmaer
A Viking jarl tricked into marrying a shieldmaiden
sets out to tame his fiery bride
Norway, 924 AD
“That creature is a Jarl’s daughter?” Left unsaid in Lothar’s wide gaze was the fact she would also be Torvald’s wife.
Given the sight that beheld their eyes, Torvald might have felt it unfair to chastise his companion, but he couldn’t overlook the disrespect. So he jerked his elbow backward and up, neatly breaking Lothar’s nose. While the man groaned and bent at the waist to keep the blood streaming toward the rushes covering the rough dirt floor, Torvald stepped deeper into the taproom.
The brawl was well underway. His bride seemed to have things well in hand. Something that might have amused him in his younger days, but he had a position to uphold and ambitions beyond his own jarldom. Bringing back such a wife to his holdings could prove a hindrance to his plans.
Not that she wasn’t a handsome woman. Beneath the dirt on her cheeks and the blood smeared on her chin, her face was nicely formed and her eyes a direct and chilling blue. Her hair was such a pale shade as to be nearly white, and so thick it escaped her braids to fly about her back and buttocks like a wild mare’s mane. And she had surprising strength and stamina in her tall robust frame, which admittedly intrigued him.
As he watched, she turned sideways, gripped the edge of a table, and flipped over it, planting her feet in the center of a large, brutish man’s belly to topple him. The man went down with a roar then kicked out his feet, pulling himself to stand in a single, astonishingly graceful motion.
His bride glanced up the big man’s frame then planted both fists on her hips in a fearless stance. “I tipped a bull once. He thrashed a bit, but didn’t get back to his feet nearly as quickly as you.”
Her words were brusque but admiring, and her expression gave away her cheeky lack of contrition.
The red-headed brute glanced down at her, nostrils flaring, his cheeks so flushed Torvald feared he’d pop a vein—and then suddenly, he tossed back his head and laughed.
The sound was large and loud inside the small, ale-saturated room. He clamped his arm around the woman’s shoulders and turned her toward the bar. “Mead for the lady,” he roared.
The brawl ended in an instant. Laughter and loud claps to shoulders filled the room.
Lothar sidled up beside Torvald, a cloth pressed to his nose as he stared through bruised and swelling eyes. “Will you break something else if I say she’s not exactly the woman Hagar promised?”
Torvald blew out a breath and nodded. “It can’t be the same woman. A sister, perhaps.”
Hagar, the chieftain of the neighboring jarldom, had promised a girl so fair roses blushed in dismay. A woman as slender as a reed, as graceful as a soaring falcon, with hair as dark as midnight, skin as pale as snow.
This harridan’s tall angular frame and blonde hair were the exact opposite of what he’d been promised, and her ruddy complexion was berry brown from exposure to the sun and weather.
“Is it a trick to save his treasure for a higher bidder for the beauty’s hand? This one’s more skjaldmær—shieldmaiden—than bride.”
“I don’t know, but this…” Torvald said, pointing toward the sturdy figure dressed in a man’s breeches and kyrtill wasn’t an acceptable trade. “This will never do.” No matter that she appeared strong and would likely birth warriors full-grown. She’d never stand up to the scrutiny a future queen would face.
Taking a deep breath, he indicated to Lothar to watch the door and strode toward the woman who’d raised a full horn of mead and drank it like water. He tapped her shoulder.
Her gaze swung toward him, a scowl digging a crease between her cold blue eyes.
“Are you Solveig, Hagar’s daughter?”
She set down her empty horn with a thump. “And who is asking?”
The question will be: What is your favorite taboo theme in erotica?
Before I can run the poll, I’d like a better list than I can think up off the top of my head. I know stepbrother stories are pretty hot right now, but what else is out there that you’d like to see people vote on? And yeah, I’m hoping the list will provide me some inspiration for what I want to write in the future.
So, you have today’s question:
What would you like me to add to the poll list (which I will run on Saturday!)?
And in the meantime, I will be uploading the story below today, so it should release (hopefully) sometime tonight or tomorrow. Take a peak! This is one of the hottest things I’ve written in a while—and you know that’s saying a lot!
Oh! And I’ll be sending out a newsletter shortly. If you’re not a subscriber to my newsletter list—click on this link: Newsletter
Lily’s Last Stand
A wife gives her husband a sexy surprise…and then he ups the ante…
Note: This 7800-word short story was previously published in Strokes, Vol. 1, but has been revised and expanded to more than double its original length. It may be short in length, but it’s not short in passion!
She didn’t dare look at Brent. He’d see how tight her features were and guess just how turned on she was. Not just because he was watching. She couldn’t wait to get her mouth around Lou’s cock.
Reaching out a hand, she cupped his balls and fondled them, rolling them in her palm, then tugging them gently. His cock jerked, his breath hitched. When she leaned forward to lick his velvet sack, he groaned.
Lily opened her mouth and took both balls inside, lavishing them with strokes of her tongue while she sucked. When she released him, she made of show of licking her palms then gripped his shaft and began to pump.
Rising higher on her knees, she angled his cock and brought it to her lips. She kissed the head, leaving a smudge of red, then swirled her tongue over the arrow cap, pausing to tease the narrow slit before paying attention to the lipped edge.
When his hands settled on her head and began to grip her hair, she opened wider and slid her mouth over his cock, sinking on his shaft while she began to twist her hands on his length. Sucking harder and harder, she bobbed forward and back, sinking by inches and leaving paler and paler rings around his cock. When his dick butted the back her throat, she swallowed, liking the way his knees snapped to hug her. When she eased open her throat and went all the way to the root, he gave a muffled cry.
His fist pulled on her hair. “Ease off, Lily.”
She murmured, gave a slight shake of her head, and dove down again.
“Brent!” Lou said, his voice thick and tight.
“She’s worked for it,” Brent murmured. “Give her what she deserves.”
“Ah!”
Lou’s cock tightened and cum spurted down her throat, just once, and she came off him, milking his shaft and letting the thick, burbling cream stripe her chest and face. When she gripped him just below the head, she gave him one last squeeze, milking the last drop, which she used to paint her mouth.
A tsking sounded from her right. She turned her head to Brent, whose expression was hard. So was his cock, which he’d ringed at the base.
Seven is the Magic Number. Six, and I’m wanting a nap in the middle of the day. Eight, and I’m feeling groggy. What am I talking about?
Hours of sleep a night! I need seven! I got them last night and this morning I feel fabulous, and since today’s guest blogger bailed on me, I decided to talk about the thing that was at the top of my mind. Lucky you!
So what is your magic number?
Tell me, and you’ll be entered to win a free short story from the carousel below. I’ll choose two winners!
And if you didn’t know it, I published a new, very sexy shortie yesterday. Here’s a short excerpt…
Click to Buy
A New York commuter shares lustful daydreams with another subway passenger…
Excerpt:
When he rose again, he shifted her, urging her to the center of the bed. He cloaked himself then turned her and licked a hot trail down her spine. At her bottom, he bit each cheek. Just hard enough to make her quiver. He kissed her cunt and moved behind her, his cock prodding her then plunging into her.
Sophie screamed, unraveling in a moment. His girth stretched her, his length plundered. Moisture flooded her channel as she bounced back to greet his strokes.
A clap landed on one side of her ass. Loud, but not really hard. It surprised her, made her freeze.
He leaned over back and whispered in her ear. “Did you like that, Sophie? Do you want another?”
Her pussy flooded with moisture, as much from the silky texture of his voice as the warmth of her ass. “Please.”
He straightened and began to thrust into her again, smooth, deep glides that had her passion rising steeply again. A slap landed on the opposite cheek, sharper than the first one. Her pussy clenched his cock. She lowered her middle to lift her ass, begging silently for another.
Again and again, he placed slaps, some hollow-sounding and not too sharp, others flat and stinging. She sobbed, dropping her head to rest it on the cool sheet. This was pure bliss.
At last, he went still and bent, encircling her with an arm and raising her to sit, still impaled on his cock. His hands roamed her breasts, massaging then pinching her nipples. “Use your fingers to tug on them, pull them far and let them bounce back. I want to watch.”
These are all free to Kindle Unlimited subscribers and just $0.99 for everyone else!
To see more of my currently available short stories, check out this page: Short Stories
I love cowboys. And I’m guessing you do, too. I’ve been writing them as long as I’ve been writing contemporary stories. I’ve written them through a couple of series—Lone Star Loversand Triple Horn Brand. And I’ve written them into short stories—quick bites of yummy Texans. Have you tried them out?
My love of cowboys comes from nine years of living in the Texas Hill Country with a working ranch butted up against my back yard. From my vantage it wasn’t uncommon to see cowboys on horseback or motorized mules, rounding up cattle. And every one of them was exactly how’d you picture them in your fantasies—lean and dusty in Wranglers, straw cowboy hats and boots. Now that those days are over, I can let my mind drift back—and imagine some very sexy goin’s on…
Big Brass Buckle — Caught in a sudden thunderstorm on a lonely stretch of Texas highway, I pull into a dingy little diner to wait out the rain, never dreaming the cowboy of my dreams would follow me inside. Now I have a couple of choices, play it coy and safe? Or go for the big brass buckle…
One Track Cowboy — After tracking two lost hikers, a park ranger and a local rancher lose themselves to a wild passion…
The Runaway Bride — After leaving him at the altar, a headstrong bride is captured by her cowboy and taught the pleasure of sensual discipline…
Comment for a chance to win one of the cowboy shorties here or one of the short stories on this carousel!
UPDATE: The winner of the free download is…Kristie!
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Ménage can be kind of irresistible. To write or read. Why settle for one hot lover when you can have two or more? I enjoy the challenge of writing it—figuring out how to describe all those moving parts, trying to make the scene move quickly, and still let the reader know who’s saying/touching what. And I’ll admit it. When I’m writing it, I’m that character, closing my eyes and imagining every kiss.
I’ve written a few. 🙂 The book coming May 12th, Under a Blood Moon, features a foursome (a witch, two mermen and a sea draugr). To tide you over until then, take a peek inside Two Hot!
Comment for a chance to win Two Hot or one of the short stories on this carousel!
Do you like ménage stories? If so, what flavor of ménage do you prefer — m/m/f, m/f/m, f/m/f, f/f/m? More mm’s?
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Click to Buy
Afraid to spoil their friendship, Emily had been reluctant to act on her attraction to the two sexy men next door. However, when she’s caught spying on them, the men decide a little punishment is in order…
Beads of condensation, glittering jewel-like in the sputtering candlelight, ran in rivulets down the sides of Jason’s ice-cold beer.
Detail I shouldn’t have been able to note, given the fact I was thirty feet away.
As I lowered my nephew’s toy binoculars, I reflected that I had indeed sunk to a new low. You see, my bedroom window conveniently overlooked Jason and Robert’s backyard. A fact that probably never registered with the previous tenants, but one that proved too delicious to ignore after the arrival of the handsome duo. Privacy fencing, which ran down to the pier that jutted into the lake, separated the row of houses where we lived. It was high enough the neighbors on either side of ours couldn’t see into their yard, but lucky me—I had the perfect view.
Upon discovering this, I had began a furtive surveillance. One that had me cringing in embarrassment each time I greeted them in passing and feeling even more ashamed when we struck up a friendship.
We’d shared meals, drinks, late afternoon swims, watched football games together on their wide-screen TV. And still, I peeked into their backyard, waiting for those moments when they popped outside to mow the lawn or catch a few summer rays. Their bodies gleamed with sweat while raw lust warred inside me, along with the fear that I’d mess up our relationship if I let the guys know how I really felt.
My convenient perch on the windowsill afforded me a window into their private lives, and from the very beginning, I was hooked. They’d become an obsession, one frustrated by the fact they treated me like a kid sister, rather than a woman one of them might desire.
And therein lay another problem. I’d resisted the urge to seek a deeper relationship because then I’d have to choose. My libido was completely fickle, lusting after Jason’s muscled physique, then sighing over the possibilities of what Robert’s tall, bony frame and large feet hinted at. That their personalities were perfect bookends, fierce and funny, confused my heart as well.
Lucky, lucky me. I licked the sweat gathering on my upper lip while this night one of the handsome men living next door tilted his bottle and took several long sips. The look of pure bliss that softened his otherwise stern features made my chest ache.
I watched the movement of Jason’s throat as he worked it down, imagining him sipping at my overheated flesh. My skin began to tingle. My nipples beaded, crowding uncomfortably against my lace bra. My thighs clenched as a delicious wash of arousal seeped to wet the crotch of my plain panties.
The sigh he emitted as he set the bottle on the table was echoed by my own painful groan. Watching either of them had never caused my heart to skip a beat like that hint of a moan sliding on the tail of Jason’s long exhalation.
Sure, it was hotter than hell out there. I too felt the effects of the enervating heat. Record temperatures had strained the region’s resources and planned service interruptions began that night. But something about that sigh felt…un-subtle, exaggerated, maybe even dramatic. And Jason was too straightforward a man for that.
I blotted sweat from my forehead, asking myself again, What am I doing?
Only this time, my peeping hadn’t been deliberate. I’d rushed home from work and showered quickly to beat the scheduled brown-out. Then I’d stripped to my underwear, pulled back the curtains, and opened the window, hoping for a breeze to cool my skin. Sitting limply on the sill, I waited for the world to flicker into life again.
That’s when I’d noticed him, sitting in a lounge chair alone in the dark.
He wore his usual work “uniform”—khaki trousers, white shirt and a tie. Tonight, the tie hung loosened and askew, his collar opened beneath it.
Despite the lack of electricity, I could see it all. Moonlight silvered his dark hair and reflected bright as a beacon against the white shirt. The golden light from the large Citronella candle leant warmth to his skin and the amber bottle he held between his hands.
As always, he was lovely to watch, but tonight, his expression drew my attention more than his breath-stealing features. A sullen slanting of his brows, a bit of pout plumping his masculine lips, an edgy energy to his slight movements—he was either irritated or aroused.
Wanting an answer to the “either-or,” I watched. My forte is observation; my people-radar exquisitely tuned to body language and a voice’s tonal cues. My curiosity and my lust were caught. No way could I back away from my window now.
The bottle tapped the table as he set it aside. A long-fingered hand tugged the knot of his tie, dragging it from his neck.
When he began to undo the row of buttons down the front of his shirt, I settled deeper on the sill, leaning closer, but taking care to keep my pale body hidden behind the sheer curtain.
The edges of the shirt parted over a broad, nicely muscled chest. My gaze zeroed in on taut lean abs dusted with dense fur the same color as his close-cropped black hair that stretched nipple to nipple then ran along a thin dark line to slip beneath his zipper.
His hand stroked his chest, scratching through the hair, the faint crinkling sound causing my own chest to tighten, my nipples to surge.
A light sheen of sweat glimmered on his chest and belly. Again, my tongue swept my lips, tasting salt, and I imagined I lapped the dew right off his skin.
When a lazily roaming hand slid over his belly, I tensed, fascinated as he swept the flat plane. Would he be hard or desk-soft? His stomach looked firm. So, I enjoyed fantasizing that he was and touched my own stomach, following his path.
His hand slid down to the knot bulging behind his fly, and he cupped it. Squeezed.
My own hands itched to replace his and grew still, clenching against the fantasy of holding his burgeoning cock as it roused. My cheeks heated and my breaths shortened. No need to tease my own body into arousal, moisture already soaked my panties.
The buckle clanked open, and the belt slid sinuously from the loops as he lifted his hips and pulled it free. A flick of his thumb and the button at the waistband of his trousers opened. His zipper rasped as it slid down.
Dark fabric formed a vee-like shadow as his hand rooted beneath his waist, and then he slipped the long, gleaming column of his semi-aroused sex from the flap at the front of his boxers and wrapped his fingers around it.
I swallowed the liquid pooling in my mouth. I blinked to moisten eyes that had grown dry and scratchy as I stared, wide-eyed. My breaths grew ragged, a little choked, and I must have made a noise, because suddenly his head swung my way.
His gaze narrowed on my bedroom window.
Holding my breath, I froze, hoping his gaze couldn’t penetrate the darkness.
But a crooked smile slowly stretched his lips, and his hand tightened around himself and began to pump up and down the thickening rod. All the while, he stared at me.
Jason knew I watched but didn’t seem to mind. I let out a deep, trembling breath and continued to stare, my own body heating, growing increasingly aroused in tandem with his hardening cock.
His head turned away, and his hand dropped from his engorged cock. It fell against his belly with a soft, muffled thud. Heavy, hot, thick—I knew its girth would stretch my mouth.
Another sound intruded. The chime of my doorbell. I bit back a curse and drew away from the window, slung on my robe, then headed downstairs to the front door.
Robert stood on the stoop, a lazy grin on his face, a sweep of lank blonde hair covering one eye and two beers dangling from his fingers. He was shirtless. Low-riding, blue knee-length shorts encased slender hips and revealed long legs. His large feet were bare. “Thought you might like to join us.”
the other day, and I really liked what she had to say…
