Sunday Snog....from Incognito

Victoria Blisse has started a movement! Every Sunday, she's posting an excerpt featuring a kiss on her blog, then inviting the rest of us to follow suit. So here, for your reading pleasure, is a three-way kiss taken from my novel Incognito. Enjoy!

The translucent drapery fell back into place. The three of them were alone. For a long moment they stood motionless, facing each other. What am I doing? thought Miranda, wondering at the thud of her heart against her ribs and the swollen heat of her sex.

Then all her awkwardness and uncertainty dropped away. With her right hand, she reached for Marla, her fingers seeking the hard little nubs pushing through the elastic material. With her left, she drew Marcus to her, reveling in the sensation of his tumescence pressed against her thigh. Marla’s breast cupped in one hand, Marcus’ scrotum in the other, Miranda kissed them in turn.

Their mouths were surprisingly different. Marla’s kiss was soft, almost tentative, though she readily opened her ripe lips to the probing of Miranda’s tongue. She tasted faintly of cloves, sharp and sweet.

Marcus kissed with a fury that robbed Miranda of breath. At the touch of her lips, his opened, and he seemed to inhale her, sucking her tongue into his mouth and tangling it with his own. Meanwhile, his arm encircled her hip and pulled her more tightly against him. He ground his bulging crotch against her velvet-clad thigh, setting up sympathetic tremors in her sex.

If Marla’s kiss was a gentle invitation, Marcus’ was a challenge. Once again, a fleeting impression of familiarity rose in Miranda’s consciousness, then slipped away as hands and lips expanded and complicated the three-way caress.

Marla broke away first. Without speaking, she pulled the jumpsuit off her shoulders and wriggled out of it, somehow managing to look charming rather than clumsy.

Marla was slender, but far from boyish. Miranda could not take her eyes from the dusky rose nipples that pertly tipped the girl’s palm-sized breasts. Her skin was golden all over with a light tan; there were no pale patches. Marla’s hips swelled invitingly from a narrow waist, then down to firm, straight thighs. At their meeting point, her neatly trimmed triangle of brunette curls left Miranda feeling weak and confused.

I’ve never been attracted to women before, thought Miranda. What’s happening to me? Then an image from her past flooded her inner vision. High school, Rebecca – the minister’s wild daughter, long blonde locks flying, laughing as she danced at a party, while a younger Miranda watched from a corner, overwhelmed by a craving she could not name. So, thought Miranda, beginning to understand how little she knew her real self.