Something Sweet for Christmas

Greetings, all!

For Christmas, I thought I'd share something a bit sweeter than yesterday's fare. This is my favorite kiss, of all the kisses I've written. It comes from my M/M/F holiday tale, Almost Home.

Wishing you a Christmas full of beauty, joy and love...

The kiss caught her off guard.

One moment Suzanne was standing in the doorway to Helena’s den, scanning the occupants and wondering if she knew anyone at all at this party. The next moment someone twirled her around and fastened a pair of firm lips on hers. Out of instinct or habit, she closed her eyes. The darkness heightened her other senses. Powerful arms circled her body and pulled her against a fuzzy male chest. Her partner’s scent rose around her, a complex mix of soap and musk, evergreen and wood smoke. His tongue teased the seam where her lips met and she let him enter, her self-protective reflexes dulled by his warmth and the glass of merlot she’d downed on her arrival. His mouth tasted of eggnog and candy canes, appropriately seasonal. He was delicious, in fact—not just his mouth but the quiet confidence of his probing tongue, the sculpted muscle she felt under his sweater, his bold hands wandering across her back to her buttocks. She hadn’t enjoyed a kiss like this in a long time.

She’d felt chilled and tense ever since her plane touched down in frigid Boston but now her muscles began to unknot. He was a miniature sun, melting her, turning her languid and dreamy. She clutched at his solid form and returned his kiss, trading heat for heat. Tropical colours paraded behind her eyelids—fuschia, lime, peach, and aqua—shimmering like the water in her pool back home. She even began to perspire, her long-sleeved velvet dress suddenly too warm for comfort.

He pulled her full hips against his lean ones. A tell-tale lump, wonderfully hard, pressed against her belly. Her panties and tights dampened, too.

Normally she would have resisted but stress and alcohol made her susceptible. She allowed the kiss to lengthen and deepen, sinking into the pure pleasure of it.

A smattering of applause brought her back to awareness. “Whoa there!” hooted one of the guests. “You two want some privacy?”

Suzanne broke away from the man who had ambushed her. “Hey! What do you think you’re doing?” Embarrassment added a sharp edge to her voice.

The dark haired man favoured her with a grin. “Mistletoe,” he said, pointing upward. Sure enough, a cluster of green leaves and pale berries dangled from the door frame. He could scarcely contain his laughter. 

 

Equal Time - a F/F Kiss from Rush Hour

It's Sunday again and that means it's time for more snoggery. Thanks to Ms. Victoria Blisse, Sunday kiss excerpts have become a fun tradition.

Since I gave you a M/M kiss from Necessary Madness two weeks ago, I thought I'd give equal time to the female sex with this snippet from "Rush Hour", published in the highly acclaimed collection Where the Girls Are: Urban Lesbian Erotica, edited by D.L. King.

***

“Good evening, Derrick.”

My doorman raised a skeptical eyebrow when he saw Mina’s wet, ratty figure. “Good evening, Ms. Gladstone.” His voice held a nicely calculated hint of scorn. No one is more sensitive to the social nuances than a Manhattan doorman.

I ignored him, shepherding Mina into the elevator.

The mirrors in the lift revealed two very bedraggled women. Mina’s mascara had run. Her eyes were huge and dark like some anime character. Her soaked sweater hung limply from her shoulders. Her black stockings were laddered with multiple runs, though for all I knew that might be a deliberate part of her costume.

As for me, my two-hundred-dollar haircut was plastered to my forehead in rust-colored tangles. Oily splashes reached to the knees of my beige linen trousers and there was a smear of mud on my cheek. My leather briefcase and purse looked like they had leprosy.

Laughter bubbled up in my chest. I looked so silly. I knew that it was quarter to seven but all at once it didn’t seem to matter.

And Mina? To me, at that moment, she was simply beautiful.

I grabbed her shoulders and pulled her body against mine. I was at least half a head taller than the Goth girl. She tilted her chin up, offering her wine-colored lips. I fastened on them as though I were dying of thirst.

Her mouth was firm, elastic, muscular. I was the aggressor at first, but that didn’t last. Before long she was working her lips against mine, sucking my tongue into her mouth, probing with her own. Her fierce energy overwhelmed me; I let go and allowed her to take what she wanted. As her hands slipped under my jacket to massage my breasts, I remembered the security cameras. A fresh deluge of kisses washed the thought from my mind.

We toppled out of the elevator, groping each other, and stumbled down the hall to my door. I couldn’t manage to unlock it. Mina kept twisting my nipples; I couldn’t hold the key steady.

Finally, we were inside. I pushed her against the wall, taking control. My knee rose between her legs until she was forced to stand on tiptoe. I bent to her throat and licked my way down into her cleavage, finally tasting the pale flesh that had tantalized me in the cab.

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.