Are You Sexy? ~ @MySexySaturday #MySexySaturday #Saturday7 #MSSAuthors #MSS87
It’s Saturday and that can mean only one thing…welcome to the 87th week of My Sexy Saturday!
This week’s theme is ‘Are You Sexy?’ and it’s all about those characters who are sexy and very comfortable about it. They’re comfortable about being in their own skin, being the best at something, heck, they’re comfortable at almost everything. But there is one thing they haven’t yet quite mastered: love. They are those characters who exude sexy, have a large following but haven’t yet found that special someone. Once they do, it’ll be all over for them because they will only want to be sexy for them and no one else.
Every reader can relate to these characters and understand just what a burden it can be to have everything set in life yet feel something is missing (sigh!). As authors it is our job to weave our tales to enchant you, to entice you and to leave you with that ‘ah’ moment through the way our characters interact with words. Sexiness can happen anywhere, anytime, day or night. People fall in love in many different ways. It might be on a date, at a school dance, on a hike, with the boy or girl next door, just anywhere two or sometimes more people or beings are drawn together because of that feeling called love. The one thing we do know is, on My Sexy Saturday, it’s going to be hot…hot…HOT!
The rules of My Sexy Saturday are simple. The post must be 7 paragraphs or 7 sentences or 7 words only.
My excerpt this week comes from Echoes in the Darkness, the second book in the Jago Legacy Series. Cad Jago is one of those characters who exudes sexy, until he meets his match…
The stranger was concentrating on caressing my breast and did not reply. His eyes remained locked on mine as, very gently, he lifted the piece of ice and used it to draw a circle around my already sensitised nipple. My back arched and I bit my lip as a maddeningly wonderful bolt of pain shot through me.
He moved his hand to my right breast and repeated the process. I wanted to scream. But I wasn’t sure if I wanted to scream at him to stop, or because I never wanted the velvet torture of his touch to end. “It’s funny,” he observed casually. “I thought from a distance that, because your eyes are so dark, they must be brown. But now I see they are the exact shade of the heart of a purple pansy. And,” he added, leaning closer so that Claude and Maurice couldn’t hear, “now you are aroused, there are thunderclouds of passion looming just below the surface.” His French was perfect, but there was a faint trace of an accent.
He rose abruptly, brushing back the lock of hair that flopped forward to caress his brow. “Just use the ice when you need to,” he instructed me, indicating the glass next to the chaise. “That should keep Claude here quiet while he gets his masterpiece started.” He began to walk away toward the door and I lay back, unable to speak. I was completely stunned by the effect he had on me. My nipples were throbbing painfully, a sensation that had nothing whatsoever to do with the ice. Pausing with his hand on the door handle, he flashed that incredible smile my way once more. But his words were directed at Claude, “Do tell our mutual friend I was looking for him. And that he can’t hide forever. I will find him.” Then he was gone.
Throughout the remainder of that sultry, cloud-dulled afternoon, my whole body thrummed with longing. Even Claude’s posturing and Maurice’s rattling, self-absorbed conversation could not pierce the bubble of my anticipation. A drizzling rain had begun to fall by the time I left the tiny attic apartment and stepped into a darkening evening. Sure enough, my golden-eyed stranger was lounging against a gatepost across the street. Just as I knew he would be. His hands were dug deep in his coat pockets, and a brooding, haunted look lowered his brow. I went and stood before him, so close that, when we both breathed out at the same time, our bodies touched. The spicy undertones of his cologne made my nostrils twitch appreciatively. He cupped my face in his hands, studying me intently.
“My God,” he said in English. “You are the most perfect thing I have ever seen.”
“Finish what you started,” I whispered, also in English. And, obligingly, he pulled me to him, crushing me against his chest and bruising my lips with the intensity of his kiss. Dragging me along with him by the hand, he propelled us with long, urgent strides down the narrow, cobbled street. Because we had to stop to kiss under every streetlamp, by the time we reached his apartment, I was soaked to the skin and half-crazy with lust.
There were twelve stairs leading to his door. I know because he stopped to remove a piece of my wet clothing on every stair. By the time we crashed through the door of his two-room apartment, I was clad only in my underwear. Without removing his lips from mine, he slammed the door closed with one hand and shoved me hard against the wall. In one swift movement, he hauled my petticoat skirts up around my waist and dragged my bloomers down. I fumbled desperately with the buttons on his trousers and, as soon as I had freed him, taut and throbbing, from the restraining cloth, he lifted me so that could I wrap my legs around his waist. My shoulders slammed repeatedly against the wall as, buttocks pumping in a relentless rhythm, he drove himself hard into me. We rocked frantically together and, within seconds, I was gasping as wave upon wave of ecstasy shuddered through me. He jerked violently and groaned as his own orgasm tore him apart, pressing his face into the curve of my neck and muttering something appreciative, but unintelligible.
Echoes in the Darkness is available from Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Echoes-Darkness-Jago-Legacy-Book-ebook/dp/B00TIYMC0K/ref=sr_1_14?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1424611321&sr=1-14&keywords=echoes+in+the+darkness
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