Welcome to Mid Week Tease, where my author friends and I post a little something from a WIP, flash fiction piece or from some of our published work for you, the readers. As always, a HUGE thanks to fellow author Sandra Bunino for creating this weekly event.
Last week I shard from Rise of the Lost Prince, a M/F Romance, Fairy Tale, Paranormal, Fantasy, Action/Adventure, with Gothic Elements WIP I'm currently in the process of finishing, so why not continue?
Here's an unedited snippet of Wyndi and Petúr's first kiss, which gets a little heated :)
“Where are we going?” Wyndi asked.
“My room.” Five rapid heartbeats later, they were inside his bedroom with Petúr kicking the door closed behind them. “I need to know something,” he said in his honey tones.
Wyndi glanced up at him from under her lashes, and shivered. He was staring at her with eyes glinting gold. The braid he wore in his hair dangled down the right side of his cheek, tickling her.
“What do you want to know?”
Petúr bent his head, slanted his mouth over hers, tongue tasting the line of her lips until she parted them on an intake of breath. When their flesh met, she closed her eyes. Fireworks exploded inside her head, the luminous sparks floating, then falling, falling, and transitioning into a force crashing down over her— a title wave of longing. She moaned, tasting the summer sky, morning dew, the sweetness of rainbows, sultry nights, and rain storms.
Mind whirling, her body shifting, she was lying on her back, fingers tangled into the nape of Petúr’s satiny hair, the other hand pressed against the steely strength of his shirt-covered chest. Every part of her became aware of him on some sort of molecular level. Yet nothing could have prepared her for what she experienced when he tucked himself between her thighs and groaned. Heat slammed into her core. Her stomach quivered. Her panties dampened. An inferno. Yes, surely it must be an inferno which lapped at her skin while their tongues tangled into infinity.
Petúr was lost in an ocean of sensation, wave after wave, pulling him under. The connection to this woman beneath him was undeniable. Everything about Wyndi filled him up until there was nothing but her. Her taste. Her touch. Her scent. His chest expanded.
Damn, her scent. She tasted better than the cotton candy fragrance that wafted from her skin. Skin. Oh, yes, skin. That’s what he needed, to feel her skin against his.
“Wyndi.” He breathed, saddened to break the kiss, reaching over his shoulder, yanking the material of his shirt, lifting up with the other hand, and pulling the garment from over his head. “I must feel your flesh against mine.”
Her tongue darted out, licking her lips. Was she nervous? Well, he’d be the balm to sooth those nerves. He focused on her mouth. Those delicious lips were kiss swollen and moist, making his cock strain even more against the constraint of his pants.
“Okay,” she said in a small, breathy voice, the lids covering her blue eyes—half-masts.
He reached for the hem of the too big nightshirt covering the body he had to see, lifting until he revealed her little white panties and lacy bra covered breasts. Blood raced through his veins. He wanted to do everything with her. To her. Touch all over. Taste every inch of her. Put his fingers and cock into the tight, warm sheath he knew was awaiting him.
Take her. Hell yeah. Those two words became a chant within his mind. He wanted to take his woman in every position he could imagine and then some. His woman? Yes. Yes she was his, or would be. Slow your roll. You don’t want to scare her. He had to maintain. He couldn’t go at her like some out of control beast.
Leaning down, he kissed between the creamy mounds of her cleavage, skimmed his cheek across the apex of her right breast, watching goose bumps scatter across her flesh in a wanton invitation. Unable to stop himself from licking her, he lapped at her in one, long, lingering stroke, from the top edge of the bra, up her collarbone, only stopping because the material he’d lifted hindered his progress being bunched around neck.
“Oh, hell,” he muttered. “You taste so good.”
She shook, and he wanted her shakes.
“Yes,” he answered, feeling her warm palms slide down his biceps. Even that tantalized him. “I’m already addicted.” He went to his elbows, slid his hands under her shoulder blades, arching her up, dropped his head, grabbed the flimsy middle of her bra with his teeth, bit, and tugged, ripping it free.
“Oh!” she uttered.
Moving the material aside with his nose, he pulled back enough to see her, soaking every bit of her pink and white flesh in with his eyes, before flicking a rosebud nipple with the tip of his tongue.
“Petúr.” He reveled in the sound of his name falling from her lips, and sucked the nipple he’d been teasing into his mouth. “Mm…We should stop.” He lightly bit. Swirled his tongue around the aroused nub. “Oh…Never mind. Don’t stop,” she uttered, as she wrapped her legs around his waist.
“Never stop. No.” He sounded like a Neanderthal, but just then, when Wyndi pressed herself into his erection, he didn’t care.
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