Well, Victoria Blisse is at it again... she of the wonderful Smutty Advent calendar... and now, she's doing a counting kisses contest.
To celebrate kisses (or snogs, or whatever you want to call them) here's an excerpt from my story "Holiday Hours," featured in Milf & Cookies. I have another short story in a Valentine's release from Hot Ink Press, Cupid's Chokehold. (My story there is called "Half the World Away.")
Collin laughingly pushed my hands away when I tried to reach for one of the dinner rolls, tearing it into bite sized pieces and feeding them to me like I was a baby bird. I rolled my eyes at him. Naturally, it was the pie that actually got me into trouble. I was laughing at Collin's description of his nephew's Halloween costume when he offered me a bite of pecan pie, covered in whip cream. I snarfed. And he missed. I took a noseful of whip cream, and sticky pecan down the side of my chin.
"Oh, brilliant," I snorted. "You're a terrible nursemaid." Collin scraped the fork along my chin, catching a dollop of pie filling.
"Really? I get all the way to the end of dinner, and you make me miss, and I'm the one who's terrible?" Collin ate the glop of pie himself. "Hmm. That's pretty good." He leaned in. I knew - from the instant that he'd forked a bite of turkey and offered it to me - that this moment was in the offing. A single quiver, a tightening in my belly that snaked down my thighs and coiled there, waiting, in my groin. I could have pulled back, could have turned it, and nothing would have happened. I didn't. I offered him my pie-smeared nose and cheek, and in those precious seconds, offered everything else.
Collin's tongue slid across my cheek, tasting and teasing. He nipped the end of my nose, sending crinkling tingles down my throat. Under my striped uniform shirt, my nipples peaked with sudden, almost painful intensity. I arched my back, pressing toward him. The scrape of his stubbled chin brushed over my skin, a single rasp, before his mouth came down on mine.
Kissing always seemed to me to be perfunctory, a necessary prelude to whatever sexual adventure was coming my way. Like a preview for a movie, something I didn't really mind too much if we were late to the theater and missed. Not this kiss. Instead of rudely thrusting his tongue into my mouth, prodding and probing, Collin's kiss was a sensual onslaught. He licked at my lips, teased the corner of my mouth, sending shivers along my spine. The tickle of his beard against my sensitive upper lip made me gasp. By the time he plundered the inside of my mouth, I was more than willing, more than ready, and decidedly marking the kiss on my must-see summer blockbusters.
He explored and plundered, tasting and touching. His arms came around me, fingers trailing down to the small of my back, pulling me against him. His breath was hot and heavy and he pulled the air out of my lungs in his eagerness. I surrendered, my hands going up to test the silken glide of his hair, the feel the hard muscles of his shoulders. I leaned against his long frame, feeling every inch of his body against mine.
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