Sunday Snog: Cat Toy

I just posted my newsletter and website update, including a new chapter of my feline shifter serial, Cat Toy. It just happens to include a pretty intense kiss, perfect for a Sunday snog.

If you haven't been there already, head over to read Victoria's snowy snog. Blissemas is winding down, but she still has lots of prizes to give away! You'll find links to other authors' sexy snogs, too.

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"You're blocking the door, Shaina. You'll have to move if you want me to go."

Wordless, lost in the storm of emotion swirling through me, I stepped aside. He flipped open the deadbolt.

"Goodbye, beautiful one."

"No..."

I didn't intend to speak. The one word plea emerged without any conscious decision. I reached for him, to hold him back. Some part of me knew that I shouldn't, couldn't allow him to leave.

Electricity shot through my arm, sizzled down my spine and ignited in my sex. I gasped.

"You feel it too, don't you?" With one finger, he tipped my face toward his. His eyes were emeralds set in ebony. They were so familiar...I knew this stranger, recognized him at some fundamental level below rational thought.

Heat hummed through me, rippling out from that tiny spot on my chin where our skin met. I was acutely aware of my bare flesh under the thin cotton, my nipples gathered into tight, throbbing knots, my thighs damp with fluid leaking from my cleft.

I held his gaze, allowing him to see the raw need he inspired. I was totally naked, open, silently inviting him to take me.

He bent to me. His breath warmed my cheek as I held my own in anticipation. Then his lips met mine and reality exploded into a riot of lush sensation. Colors flared around us, scarlet, vermillion, grass-green, velvety jet. A thousand scents teased my nostrils – the sweetness of fallen blossoms and ripe earth, summer-baked hay and rust-tinged water running over smooth stone. Sparks danced across my skin and burrowed beneath, racing through my blood to swell and soak me.

Just the chaste press of his closed lips had this effect. When he opened to slide his tongue into my mouth, a dizzy fever swept over me. I grabbed him, wrapping my arms around his back, plastering my body against his, mashing my hungry breasts against his solid chest. I wanted total contact. The parts of me that weren't touching him felt lost, abandoned. A rigid bulk prodded my belly. I squirmed against him, thrilled by the promise of that hardness.

His tongue flicked across mine, rougher than I'd expected. He devoured me as though he was starved, gnawing on my lips then plunging deep inside. I felt every move in my pussy, as if that agile tongue rasped over my pulsing clit instead of my palate. My nipples were so tight they hurt. I ground my pubis against him, already trembling on the edge of orgasm.

I wanted - oh, how I wanted him! - his mouth on my breasts, his tongue circling my clit, his cock driving into my liquefying depths! At the same time, I didn't want the kiss to end. He tasted of the chardonnay, sweet and spicy. He made me drunk. The world whirled around me as he sucked my tongue into his mouth then bit down until a hint of copper mingled with the wine.

"Oh..." I moaned into his mouth, only half in protest. His hands pushed the kimono out of the way and wandered over my body, leaving trails of fire. I was ready to burn.