Happy
Sunday! I’ve been away all week on a business trip, but I’m back
just in time to post this week’s snog.
I
decided to share a kiss or two from my lesbian paranormal erotic
romance story The
Witches of Gloucester. This is partly in celebration of the
wonderful review I just got on Amazon for this book. Plus, of course,
we’ve just entered the month for witches, though there’s nothing
scary about my sorceress trio.
Also,
I’m in a LGBT mood, because I’m reading a new book of short
stories by the fabulous Giselle Renarde, entitled LGBT Love.
Giselle is donating 100% of the proceeds from this book to LGBT
charities. So why don’t you pick up a copy, too? You’ll find all
the buy links here:
http://ohgetagrip.blogspot.com/2015/10/true-heartfelt-loving-kindness.html
(And no, this is not just a ploy to get you to visit my other blog
Oh Get a Grip! Giselle is an amazing writer.)
After
you’ve savored my snog, slide over to Victoria’s
place for more Sunday kisses!
She
flipped the card over to reveal the three of hearts.
Fear,
excitement and lust washed through her in alternating waves. She
pushed the exultation away. “It’s just random luck,” she said,
wanting but not daring to believe. That force, that attraction –
she’d imagined it. She was suggestible – Tim had always said so –
and these two women had formidable wills.
“Try
again,” Beryl urged.
The
two of spades, the Jack of diamonds, the ace of hearts – she found
them all, one after the other. The pull of the card she sought grew
stronger each time.
“What
does it mean?” she asked at last. She sounded small and scared to
her own ears.
‘“Let’s
try something else first.” Marguerite drew a card from the deck,
gazed at it for a moment, then placed it face down in front of her.
“Tell me which card I just picked.”
The
answer came to her almost before the tawny beauty had asked her
question, with no effort at all. “Four of diamonds.”
“Now
me.” Beryl selected not one but three cards, setting them out in a
row. “You know what to do, Emmeline.”
The
messages weren’t so clear this time. She felt as though several
different people were shouting in her head. Images of cards flashed
by, too fast and indistinct for her to decipher. “I don’t know,”
she whimpered. “I can’t...”
Beryl
seized her by the wrist across the gap. Power jolted through her. The
pictures snapped into focus. “Nine of spades, six of clubs, Queen
of hearts. Oh my God...”
Marguerite
gathered Emmeline into her arms as the girl burst into ragged tears.
“Hush
now.” The raven-haired woman combed her jewel-encircled fingers
through Emmy’s platinum locks. “Don’t be afraid.” Warm lips
branded Emmy’s brow. A supple tongue flicked out to gather the
tears from Emmeline’s cheeks. Through wine-colored velvet,
Marguerite’s ample bosom, simultaneously soft and firm, pillowed
her own more modest breasts. A whiff of cinnamon tickled her nose,
followed by the musky aroma of female arousal.
Emmeline’s
already swollen nipples pulsed like the lighthouse off Bass Rocks. A
wave of liquid need swept through her, cresting and breaking between
her thighs.
“Oh...oh,
please...” Marguerite’s fierce kiss swallowed her moan. A
snake-like tongue wriggled into Emmy’s mouth, brazen and seductive.
Emmeline yielded, swooning with the heat of that kiss, until
needle-sharp teeth nipped the plumpness of her lower lip.
“Hey!
Aah...” Her yelp became a groan of need as the tiny pain kindled
new fires in her hungry pussy.
“Ssh.
Just relax, love.” That was Beryl’s voice, smooth, hypnotic,
matching the delicate brush of fingertips along her shoulders and
down her arms. “Let us pleasure you the way you deserve.”
Seduced
by the redhead’s quiet dominance, Emmeline obeyed. She closed her
eyes, letting the rising tide of her own lust drown the last shreds
of fear.
In
the sweet darkness, every sensation grew more acute. Marguerite
deepened the kiss, sucking Emmy’s tongue into her mouth, while
Beryl stroked Emmy’s back, belly and thighs. The wandering hands
barely touched Emmeline’s body but everywhere they traveled,
delicious heat followed.
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