Happy
Sunday! I’ve got a literally steamy excerpt for you today, from my
paranormal erotic romance novella Hot Spell. I figured this
was appropriate, now that we’re well on our way to spring.
Here’s
the blurb:
The
flames of passion are more than metaphor.
The
city swelters In the grip of an unseasonable heat wave. Sylvie
endures her solitary urban existence for the sake of her career, but
the prospect of a hot, lonely three day weekend proves unbearable and
she flees east to the pine-shrouded mountains. Far more at home in
nature than in the city, Sylvie doesn't mind being alone in the
wilderness, but she's not the only being haunting the glades and the
trails. Her plans for a midnight dip are interrupted when she
discovers a handsome stranger in the stream near her camp site.
Hidden in the shadow of the trees, she can't help watching as he
pleasures himself – or indeed, surreptitiously joining him in
auto-eroticism. By the time she recovers from her climax, however, he
has vanished.
Aidan
finds her the next day as she sun bathes nude in a high meadow. It's
obvious that his desire burns as fiercely as hers, yet he resists his
own lust, refusing to make love to her. The muscular, sun-bronzed man
with the red-gold hair is cursed with power he fears will destroy her
if they give full rein to their passion. Can earthy, voluptuous
Sylvie refrain from tempting him? Or will she risk being being
literally consumed by love?
And the
excerpt:
The
gurgle of water tumbling over stone grew louder as she approached.
The very sound was refreshing. A few feet from the edge, she stripped
off her clothes, draping them and her towel over a convenient
boulder. She was about to step out of the woods when an unexpected
movement caught her eye.
There
was something splashing in the creek a bit downstream from where she
stood—something…or someone. Sylvie shrank back into the shadow of
the trees.
Directly
opposite her, the stream rushed over river-polished rocks, flecked
with white froth. To her right, though, it widened into a calm pool,
black as the sky above. The unexpected noise came from there.
She
peered into the night. All she could see at first was a round, furry
mass that seemed to float upon the surface. Ripples stirred as a
figure rose from the water. At the same time, the half moon climbed
above the crest of the trees. Its pale rays revealed the form of a
naked man.
Sylvie
caught her breath. His back was to her—a gleaming, sculpted expanse
that swept down to a narrow waist, then flared into taut buttocks. A
curtain of wet hair clung to his neck and shoulders. He took a step
forwards, water swirling around his lean thighs. The grace and power
revealed by that small motion made Sylvie ache inside. She’d never
encountered such beauty in a man.
He
turned then, and the ache deepened to an agony of want. Sleek skin
stretched over his muscled chest and abdomen, strewn with glittering
drops of moonlight. He turned his face to the sky and Sylvie caught a
glimpse of features that seemed carved from marble—a soaring brow,
chiselled jaw, sharp cheekbones and a broad, resolute mouth. The
man’s eyes were closed, as though he was praying to the moon.
Then
she noticed his hands, clasped below his belly in a firm grip around
his erect cock. It reared up from a matted tangle at his groin—hard
and smooth as the rest of his body. Her nipples snapped into tight
peaks as she watched the stranger knead his rampant flesh. Slowly and
deliberately at first, then with a quickening pace, he stroked from
the glistening bulb down to the root. His cock grew longer and fatter
as he worked it, hand over hand. His full lips drew back and his brow
furrowed as the pressure and the pleasure built. He kept his eyes
shut.
Sylvie
licked her lips. Dampness painted her inner thighs. Her clit tingled
and throbbed, crying out to be touched. Her empty pussy hungered to
be filled. In a flash of memory, her dream returned—not the
details, just the fevered arousal. Her body was on fire again.
She
sank to her knees on the mossy ground and plunged her fingers into
her wetness. There was no conscious decision—she simply couldn’t
help it. Her folds were slippery and burning hot. She cupped her
hand, four fingers deep in her cleft while she rubbed the back of her
thumb over her clit. Pleasure shuddered through her. The swollen nub
was hard as a pebble, so sensitive that she could scarcely bear to
touch it. When she backed off, though, it screamed for more
stimulation.
With
her other hand, she massaged one breast, cradling the lovely weight
in her palm. She flicked her nipple, striking sparks, then pinched it
with all the force she could muster. Her pussy clenched in response.
Waves of sensation fanned out from her centre.
A low
moan dragged her attention back to the stranger in the stream. His
right hand jerked his cock, fast and rough. The other was hidden
behind him, moving in the same jagged rhythm. From his spread thighs
and straining muscles, Sylvie guessed he had at least one finger
pumping his rear hole. The lewd notion made her own anus twitch and
tingle.
He was
obviously close to coming. The realisation sizzled through her,
pushing her to the edge as well. She dug in, mashing her clit against
the heel of her hand and rocking back and forth, keeping her eyes on
the gorgeous man jacking off barely a dozen feet away.
His
biceps corded with tension, his teeth bared in a feral snarl, he
clawed his way towards orgasm. Sylvie climbed with him, matching him
breath for breath, groan for groan.
Even
drugged with lust and poised at the precipice, she noticed a peculiar
phenomenon Wisps of steam rose from the pool, twining around the
stranger’s taut limbs. Hot spring, she thought as the water
churned in a slow boil. The moon lit the mist, painting his flesh
with an unearthly glow.
A
choked cry escaped him. A pearly fountain of cum arced from his cock
and rained down into the pool, hissing as it struck the water. The
stranger’s eyes flew open. His gaze found hers, despite the shadows
in which she hid.
The
sense of recognition shocked her. This was no stranger. Deep in
Sylvie’s belly, the last barrier crumbled. Molten pleasure surged
through her, drowning rational thought. In its wake came a trembling
quiet, a profound peace. For a long while, there was nothing else.
~ ~ ~ ~
You can
get your own copy of Hot Spell here:
