This past Wednesday, a devastating earthquake struck a rural area in the mountainous Abruzzo region of Italy. Over 250 people are confirmed dead, while thousands have been left homeless. The centuries-old stone buildings in Amatrice and surrounding towns simply crumbled to rubble in the shock. Reconstruction is expected to take years.
My Sunday Snog today is dedicated to helping those affected by this disaster. I don’t have any stories set in Italy (got to remedy that!) so I’m giving you a sexy kiss or two from my French-themed erotic romance The Ingredients of Bliss.
Check out my excerpt below, then leave me a comment telling me what you think. For each comment I receive, I will donate one dollar to the Italian Red Cross for reconstruction.
In addition, I will randomly choose one person who comments to receive a free copy of this full length novel!
You can donate, too. Just go here:
Oh, and when you’re done with my snog, do click back to Sunday SnogCentral, where Victoria Blisse has links to lots more delicious kisses.
One sexy French chef. One kinky American TV producer. One ambitious Chinese gal who thinks she wants them both. The ingredients of bliss? Or a recipe for disaster?
“Emily?” Harry’s voice boomed through the corridors, as if in answer to my thoughts.
“In here. In Dantès cell.”
Harry had to duck to get through the low doorway. “Ah. I should have figured I’d find you in a dungeon.” He smelled of sunscreen, sweat and musk. Like Pavlov’s dog, I started to get wet in response to the familiar stimulus.
I fought my rising need. “Hi, Harry. I was just about the head back…”
Before I could stop him, he’d clasped me to his chest. “I missed you, love.” He buried his nose in my wind-tousled hair, breathing deep then nibbled my ear. “You smell delicious.”
I tried to untangle myself from his arms. “I need a shower.” My laugh sounded hollow.
“That’s why you smell so good. No, actually that’s not true. You always smell good. One whiff of your magic scent and I’m hard as a rock.”
He wasn’t lying. His erection prodded my belly as he ran his hands over my curves and burrowed into the crook of my neck.
“Too bad there aren’t any iron rings or bars. You’d look so fetching, shackled to the dungeon wall.”
“Harry, come one. Be serious!” Once more I struggled against his embrace, without success. He only held me tighter. He was far stronger than I. My stomach did a dizzy little flip at this realization. “They’re probably waiting for us…”
He left off his nuzzling and gazed into my eyes. In the dim cell, his were full of shadows. “Let them wait. And I am serious, Emily. I’ve never been more serious in my life.”
I couldn’t avoid the kiss. Honestly, I didn’t want to. His mouth sealed itself to mine and his tongue forced my lips apart, claiming me. Lust roared through me, unleashed by the ferocity of his oral conquest. I tasted the sugary residue of his soft drink, the mint of his toothpaste, residual garlic and herbs from the ratatouille. His assertive male odor surrounded me, the essence of pure sex. I opened to him and let him take me. I had no choice.
He didn’t fondle my breasts or pinch my bottom or insinuate his fingers into my drenched knickers. He did nothing but kiss me, pouring every ounce of feeling into that mouth-to-mouth connection. Without the slightest stimulation, aside from his taste and smell, the firmness of his lips and the probing of his tongue, I found myself trembling on the verge of climax. Irresistible power flowed from him, overwhelming me. Helpless, lost and grateful, I let myself go.
He understood what he was doing to me. He felt my last resistance crumble. My plans, my qualms, my logic all came to nothing when faced with the intensity of his desire. And as I surrendered, the kiss changed.
Now he sipped at my mouth rather than swallowing me whole. His tongue feathered over my lips, coaxing me to let him enter. He breathed into me, warm and sweet, gentle as drifting clouds on a spring day. Holding me close, so close I could feel the heartbeat under his sweat-damp shirt, he bathed me in his devotion.
My sex still tingled and sparked, but now some other sensation swelled in my chest, a rare joy that seemed on the edge of triggering both laughter and tears.
“I love you, Emily.” His voice was rough velvet, his lips moist against my cheek. “More than I can ever say. More than I know what to do with.”
Tell him, my rational self whimpered, weaker by the instant. Tell him you’re leaving, before it’s too late.
I raised my face to his and offered him my mouth, and the truth.
“I love you, too.”
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