The Kiss

I stare at his mouth while he speaks. His upper lip is fuller than the lower one. His mouth turns down slightly at the corners, giving him a rather stern expression that does not match the gentleness in his eyes.

I watch his lips move and wonder how they would feel on mine.

How would he kiss me? Would he be tentative, unsure? Or confident and insistent, dominant?

Would he lean down slowly, teasing me, breathing softly against my cheek before softly pressing his lips to mine?

Would he lick my lips before kissing them? Nibble?

Would he kiss me lingeringly, leaving me gasping for air? Would he pull back, open his eyes and look into mine? Maybe smile.

Would he open his mouth, his tongue prying my lips apart? Would he explore me? Would he be tender or forceful? Cup my chin gently, or would he grab my hair and pull my head back to stretch my throat? Would he be hungry for me, devouring my mouth with his?

How would his tongue feel against mine? Soft? Rough?

How would he smell? Does he use aftershave or just soap? Maybe I would inhale and grow dizzy on his own distinctive scent…

What would he taste of? Coffee? Alcohol? Smoke?

How would his stubble rub against my soft skin? Would he take care not to cause me discomfort, or would his passion make him forget himself?

Where are his hands? Still holding my face or head, or have they travelled to my waist, my ass, between my legs? Would he slide his fingers up under my top? Or down under my jeans?

Would I moan, hear my own heart beat drumming in my ears? Would I feel his heart against my chest? Would I feel him harden against my stomach?

Would his lips leave mine to explore, his tongue languidly tracing along my jaw towards my earlobe and down to my collar bones? Would I arch my back to give him easier access? Of course I would.

By now, have my hands found his hips, his ass? Would I be grinding against him, wet and wanting more? Of course I would.

Would he make me wait? Make me ask, beg even? Or would he step back, lift off his shirt and undress in front of me, revealing himself and leaving me in no doubt about his intentions? Would I follow suit or have him strip me?

Would he kiss my breasts, lick my nipples, suck them and bite them? Would his fingers delve inside me, spreading me, stroking me, making me squirm?

Would he take me right there, on the floor, laying me down and fucking me hard, or would he bring me to bed?

My eyes slightly glazed over, I become aware that he has stopped speaking. He is looking at me, waiting for my reply…


Copyright, 2017,

All rights reserved.



The amazing Marie Rebel offered us the prompt Disability for this week’s Wicked Wednesday. I think I may have fallen into the dreaded realm of cliché with my offering but here goes anyway!


“I’m scared…” she couldn’t make her eyes meet his as she whispered the words. The raw ache of desire she felt for him battled with her self doubts. She could not believe this gorgeous, generous, kind, sexy man desired her.

Every moment they had been together they had felt the electric tension between them. Every time their fingers brushed each other’s skin, static sparked and flared. The heat between them intense, palpable.

“Why? What’s to be scared of Em?” his fingers under her chin, lifting her face to make her look at him.

A tear spilled down her cheek, her lips trembling. “Sssshhh…” he wiped it away with his thumb and smiled at her, “Don’t be scared darling. Do you not trust me by now? Do you not believe me when I tell you I love you? When I tell you you are beautiful?”

“But…” her arms outstretched, hands pointing down at her body, “But… This!” the words caught in her throat, tight with tears.

Struggling to balance his patience with his frustration, he sighed, stood and walked to the window to cool down. He had never felt like this about any woman before. She was all he thought of, all he wanted. She consumed him. His body craved hers. He yearned to take her in his arms, undress her, savour every inch of her with his eyes, lips, tongue and hands.

Running his fingers through his hair, he spun around and moved fast to be on his knees in front of her, his hands cupping her face and mouth crushing hers as he tried with his body to convince her what his words could not seem to do. Taking her hand in his, he pushed it down for her to feel how hard he was underneath his jeans, smiling at the gasp that came from her lips.

“Em… I want you. I want all of you. Please, don’t make me wait,” he breathed into her ear, making her shiver, “Can’t you see how much I want you?” His eyes were pained as he looked into hers.

“You really don’t care about… this?” she whispered, feeling more vulnerable than she ever had in her life.

Deciding it was time to show her once and for all, he wrapped one arm around her waist and the other under her knees and lifted her gently from the chair, carried her over to the bed and laid her down.

“Trust me?”

She hesitated before nodding, desperately trying to stop shaking. She wanted to believe him.

“Close your eyes love,” he told her and when she did he kissed her lips, her neck, peeling off her layers of clothes as he moved down her body, over her breasts, stomach and hips. Gently opening her legs, he slowly kissed her and began his worship of her, finally tasting her as he had longed to do ever since he first talked to her in the park feeding the ducks. The wind had caught her scarf which he had sprinted to catch and return to her as she sat by the pond in her wheelchair. He was captivated from her first smile as she thanked him.

Hungry for her, kissing, licking, sucking her, relishing her scent and flavour, his hands found her breasts and pulled on her nipples, his erection throbbing against denim. He felt her hands grab his hair and smiled as he listened to her rapid breathing and groans and felt her body start to shudder. She was at last relaxing and allowing herself pleasure. Glancing up, he saw she had kept her eyes closed, her cheeks were a beautiful flush of pink and her breasts heaved as she came, crying out her release.

Later, after they had made love for the first time, lying in the damp wrinkled sheets, as she slept in his arms, he watched her, wondering how she could ever have doubted his desire for her.

He didn’t see her as she saw herself.

She saw something broken.

He saw the woman he had fallen in love with.


Copyright, 2015,

All rights reserved.

Heat… Duke


Parts 1-3

The sound of banging woke her. What the hell was that?

“Elsa?! Elsa! You home?” from the front of the house, followed by more banging. Stumbling out of bed she made her way to the kitchen to see Bill through the glass of the front door. She froze.

“Shit!” she thought, hyperaware of her state of dress, or rather, undress; wearing a loose wife-beater that barely skimmed her upper thighs, with armholes gaping wide enough to reveal the sides of her breasts. Running her hands through her bed head hair and trying to shake off the last vestiges of sleep, she realised the very thin cotton fabric was all that shielded her breasts. She quickly crossed her arms over her chest and called, “It’s not locked, c’mon in.”

“Can’t! Got my hands full out here!” he yelled back. She picked up the urgency in his voice and hurried over to open the door, horrified at what she saw in front of her.

Bill’s shirt was splattered with blood and in his arms lay a limp and broken Duke. Her hands flew to her mouth and tears immediately filled her eyes as she watched him carry her old friend over to the kitchen table and gently lie him out.

“What happened? Oh god no…” she wailed, panic stricken and confused, leaning over Duke and stroking the side of his face as he whimpered in pain.

“I found him on the road, must’ve been nicked by a car. I’m so sorry Elsa, it doesn’t look good for him. I called the vet from my truck, he’s on his way over,” his eyes, full of concern, searched her face, and he resisted the urge to hug her, to offer her comfort.

Tears running down her cheeks, no longer caring what she looked like, she bent over and cried, burying her head in Duke’s bloody fur, whispering soothing words to him. The old dog’s eyes gazed up at her, as if pleading her to make his pain end.

He let out another whimper and his eyelids slid shut.

“No! No! No! Duke! Duke baby!” she sobbed, unable to absorb the fact that her lovely, loyal dog was gone. She lifted his lifeless body and hugged him close to her chest, rocking him as she had done when he was stressed out by thunder as a puppy.

Bill stepped up to her, put his hand on her shoulder and murmured, “I’ll be right back. I’ll call the Doc, tell him to turn around.”

He came back to find Elsa cross-legged on the floor with Duke in her lap, stroking him tenderly. Crouching down next to her, he sat with her in silence.

Eventually he reached out and put his hand over hers. She turned to look at him and the sadness in her eyes broke his heart. He hated himself for what he was about to say.

“Elsa, you know what has to happen. I can do it.”

She shook her head, “No. That’s my job. Lemme get dressed. Will you stay here with him? I don’t want him to be alone.”

“Of course. And I’m helping, ok?”

She sank her head down and placed one last kiss on the Lab’s head before standing up and wearily walking back to her room.

Sweat ran down her face and neck as she shoveled the dirt. Standing beside her, holding Duke in his arms, Bill felt like a heel, but she had outright refused to let him dig, saying this was the very last thing she could do for her dog.

“That looks deep enough,” he said, worried she would hurt herself if she kept going.

She stood back, wiped her forehead with her arm, leaving behind a smudge of dirt, and nodded. Kneeling, he gently laid the dog into the hole and looked up at her, “Wanna say somethin’? A prayer?” he asked, squinting at the harsh sunlight that shone through her hair.

“Bye buddy. I love you. Go chase squirrels in doggy heaven,” tears once again flowing down her cheeks.

“I’m gonna fill it back in Elsa, I mean it. You are done in. Sit down a while, ‘k?”

She slumped onto the dusty ground and watched Bill put Duke to rest.

Back in the kitchen, “Why don’t you go get a shower? You’re covered in dirt,” he couldn’t help himself, he reached out and wiped the dirt from her forehead with his thumb.

“’K,” she mumbled.

“I’m gonna make you something to eat while you’re in there. No arguments!”

The smell of french toast wafted down to her bedroom as she dried off and pulled on shorts and vest top. It made her feel sick. Walking barefoot back to the kitchen, wet hair piled up on her head, she said, “Bill… I really can’t eat. I’m sorry.”

“At least have some juice,” he said handing her a glass of orange juice, which she accepted.

He looked at her; pale, swollen red eyes, wet hair. She looked forlorn, like a small child. Lost. He wanted so badly to take her into his arms and make it all okay for her again. How had she affected him so much in such a short time? He couldn’t remember ever feeling this before for any other woman. She had intoxicated him, without even trying.

He wanted to know her, to know everything about her.

He wanted to taste her. He watched as she licked the orange juice from her lips and wanted to know what those lips felt like on his. He wanted to reach out and touch her, feel how soft her skin was, trace every inch of her with his fingertips. He thought of her on the floor yesterday, flushed and breathless. He was sure he had interrupted her as she satisfied herself. Had she been thinking of him as she played? he wondered. Did she want him too?

“I’d better get on with the work Elsa, you gonna take it easy yeah?” he forced himself out of his head and back to reality.

“Oh Bill, I don’t think I can be alone today. Will you stay with me awhile? I’ll still pay you for today, of course,” her eyes looking up at him from underneath her fringe.

Smiling, he replied, “Sure thing, I’ll hang with you. Forget the money.”

A tear trickled down her cheek. He reached out and wiped it away with his thumb and she launched herself into his arms, her face pressed tight against his chest, clinging on to him for dear life as she sobbed uncontrollably. Wrapping his arms around her, breathing in the scent of her freshly washed damp hair, he whispered, “Ssssshhh, s’alright baby, s’alright,” rocking her gently and stroking her back.

Copyright, 2015,

All rights reserved.

Heat… Lunch


Part 1

Part 2

Bill pulled his sweaty shirt over his head and filled the sink with warm soapy water, his mind filled with the image of her on her knees on the floor, the flush on her cheeks, her fingers against her mouth. A smile tickled his lips as he wondered if he had caught her out, she had looked so embarrassed and, yeah, guilty…

Rinsing the soap from his arms and chest, splashing cool water over his neck and face he reached for a towel only to find there was none on the rail.

“Dammit!” under his breath and he stood straight and used his shirt to dry his hands, leaving the small bathroom and walking, shirtless, back into the kitchen.

“Um, Elsa, there was no towel in your bathroom…” he stood awkwardly in the entrance to the kitchen, torso dripping, wetting his jeans waistband.

“Oh my! Oh!” Elsa didn’t know where to put her eyes, wanting to stay and drink in the sight of him but also still feeling like a kid that had been caught doing something bad, “Here, let me get you one, I’m so sorry Bill!”

She rummaged in the hall cupboard and handed him a worn, faded towel, which he used to dry off the last few wet spots on his chest and stomach.

“Your shirt is damp… let me hang it on the porch for a few minutes. This sun’ll get it dry in no time,” she reached out her hand and he gave her the shirt, “Sit! Make yourself comfortable, I’ll be right back.”

He took a seat at the table, then restlessly stood again and went to the counter, carrying the salad and cold cuts she had prepared over to the table, then the large jug of iced tea and was about to look for glasses when she slammed the screen door again as she reentered the room, a startled expression on her face.

“I… uh I wanted to help out, hope that’s ok ma’am, sorry, Elsa,” feeling like he had overstepped his mark, standing in her kitchen, naked from the waist up.

A wide, open smile lit up her face, “Well, I would never complain about a man lending a hand in the kitchen! It’s a novelty for me!” she fetched the glasses from the draining board and set them next to the plates arranged on the table, “Come on, before it gets cold.”

Throwing her head back and laughing at his puzzled expression as he looked at the spread of the food on the table, she said, “It’s salad Bill… I was kiddin’. My humour can be a bit of an acquired taste I guess…”

Red-faced and feeling like a complete heel, he sat and tried to think of something to say. She had such a powerful effect on him. He felt about 14 years old whenever she was near him, not like a full-grown man with a job, a truck, a house. He always felt at ease in people’s company, had never had any trouble with women before. She was something new altogether.

They took their seats, “Help yourself Bill, I made lots. Reckon it’s the least I can do what with you working so hard in that sun,” she said, pouring iced tea into the tumblers.

Taking a forkful of potato salad that tasted so damn good, “This is amazing Elsa! I didn’t realise how hungry I was!” he began to devour the food.

They relaxed, chatting about the scorching heat, the plans she had for the small holding, how she came to be running the farm singlehandedly. Talk came easy between them, as if they had known each other before. A sense of familiarity.


After they had eaten, he insisted on helping her with the dishes, “I’ll wash, you dry. No arguments.”

They were at the sink, laughing over a story Bill was telling her from his last job when the screen door opened and slammed shut with a loud bang, startling them.

“Dammit!” Elsa cried as the glass she was holding slipped from her hand and shattered on the stone floor.

“What in the name o’ hell is goin’ on here?”

She looked up from her crouched position, picking up the shards of glass, to see Jody’s hulking frame standing in the middle of the room, arms crossed, face like thunder.

“Who the hell are you and why are you half nikked in my house?”

“This isn’t your goddamned house Jody and you know that! Quit being an ass and tell me what you want this time,” she shouted, forgetting for a second that Bill was behind her still.

Walking over to Jody, Bill extended his hand, wiping it dry on his jeans first, “Name’s Bill, been helping Elsa out some”.

Eyeing the outstretched hand suspiciously, Jody said, “Best put your shirt on and get back to it then,” glaring at Elsa over Bill’s shoulder.

Turning back towards her, Bill raised his eyebrow and said quietly, “You alright?”

“Course she’s alright! I’m her goddamned brother!”

Elsa rolled her eyes, cast a warning look at her brother and replied, “I’ll be fine Bill, thanks. And thanks for keeping me company over lunch,” only realising she had her hand on his forearm when she saw his eyes flicker down and a slight smile play on his lips.

His lips… Damn her idiot little brother for ruining her… what? her chance with Bill? Was she kidding herself?


“Jesus Jody! What the hell do you… Who the hell do you think you are to come crashing in here without so much as a knock on the goddamned door?!”

Bill heard her yelling as he walked down the porch steps, grinning, thinking to himself, “Yeah, she will be fine, she’s a tough cookie that one.”

Copyright, 2015,

All rights reserved.

Heat… Elsa


Part 1 of the story is here.

Elsa purposely swayed her hips as she walked away from the farmhand, hoping he was watching. She had caught him looking at her several times since he started working there, each time he looked away lightening fast and tried to act as if he hadn’t been staring. It had been so long since she had any male attention that at first she thought she was imagining it, but seeing the way his eyes devoured her as she handed him the glass of lemonade reassured her that she wasn’t crazy.

“C’mon Duke! Inside!” she held the screen door open for the aging lab cross and he shuffled in to find his favourite place on what used to be her father’s chair.

Six months now since he had passed, leaving her to manage the small holding alone. Her Momma had lost her fight against cancer 4 years prior and Elsa had felt there was no choice but for her to leave the city and return to care for her old Dad. Jody, her baby brother, was dumber than a brick and couldn’t be relied upon to do much more than drink beer and shoot at the cans once he’d had his fill. He was pretty, and always had a girl on his arm or in his bed but it was never an option for him to step up and take on responsibility. Rolling her eyes and cursing under her breath, thinking to herself, ‘Baby brother! The dumb fuck is 30 freakin years old!’ then, running her fingers through her hair as she said out loud to Duke, “Well, I guess that makes me an even dumber fuck, huh Duke?”

Sighing, she went to the sink to wash the fixings for a salad and looked out the window across the field. Her hands submerged under the cool flow of water as she washed tomatoes, cucumber and lettuce, humming one of her favourite songs, she watched him digging. The sunlight caught the golden hairs on his arms and chest, his skin glistening with a coating of sweat as his muscles flexed. God he was beautiful! Not too muscular, not a body building type, his definition came from hard work, tough physical toil and labour. His dark blue denims cupped his firm ass perfectly and she watched, captivated, as once again he lifted his hat to swipe his forearm across his brow. The strong midday sunlight caught his blonde hair, now wavy from the moisture of his sweat, shining golden in its rays.

She felt her breath quicken and the heat that spread between her legs came as a shock to her. She couldn’t remember the last time a man had touched her, the last time anyone else’s fingers, other than her own, had brought her pleasure. Without noticing she was doing it, her hands traced her own jawline, fingers deliciously cool from the water, down along her collar bones and reached under the neckline of her vest. Too hot for the restrictions of a bra, her fingertips grazed her nipple, drawing it out of its hiding place and playing with it as she watched him. Feeling the growing wetness soaking her underwear, longing to feel some touch there, she slid her hand away from her breast and down into the waistband of her shorts, parting her legs and leaning against the side of the sink for support. Her fingers caressed and stroked, her eyes on his body the entire time, face flushed, small groans escaping her open lips.

The sensations from her fingers sent her higher and higher and her eyelids slipped closed as she let herself fully embrace the building pleasure spreading from her core outwards. Her fingers working furiously, other hand pushed up under her top squeezing on her hard nipple, she sank to her knees as her orgasm tore through her, eyes squeezed tight, unselfconsciously crying out. As the aftershocks pulsated though her, a slow smile spread across her lips as she tried to regulate her breath again. Opening her eyes, unfocused still as she rearranged her clothes, she brought her hand up to her face and looked at her coated fingers before sucking them and imagining him doing the same.

A rap at the screen door, “Ma’am? Sorry… Elsa? You ok there?” as his head appeared around the doorframe, a look of alarm on his face, “Did you fall?” He rushed over to help her to her feet as she fumbled in a panic to ensure her clothes were in proper order.

“Oh! Yeah, yeah I’m fine, I ah… yeah I’m fine. Sorry… You decided to come have some lunch?” she replied, feeling ridiculous and embarrassed and hoping to God that he hadn’t seen what she had been doing. As he helped her to her feet she was hyperaware of her pruney fingers and the musky scent of heat and sex that hung around her, and for once in her life, hoped that the odour of her sweat from the extraordinary heat would mask it.

“You want to wash up some while I fix us something?” she asked, trying to regain her composure and some sense of control over the situation.

A slow, lopsided grin spread across his face as he gave one nod of his head and said, “Yeah, sure. It’s Bill, by the way,” and he offered his hand properly in a handshake.

Something about the way he smiled at her made her wonder if he had been at the screen door longer than he made out, but she just smiled back and pointed him towards her small bathroom down the hall from the kitchen. She watched his slow, easy walk across the room, and allowed herself the fantasy that he had watched her and liked what he saw. Feeling a new throb begin between her legs as she turned back the counter to assemble a salad, she grinned to herself, humming her song again under her breath.


Copyright, 2015,

All rights reserved.

The Girl


She looks broken, the girl framed in the coffee shop window.

Woman really… but there’s something about her slight frame and the air of vulnerability that shrouds her that makes me think of her as a girl. Always friendly when she orders her drink, but I’ve noticed that her smile never quite reaches her eyes.

Those eyes! Deep green, with tiny brown flecks, and long dark lashes contrasting with her porcelain skin. I see the pain in them and want to know what’s causing it. I want to fix it.

I watch her as she sits at the small table, lost in herself, using her spoon to play with the foam on her latte. The blue circles beneath her eyes look darker today, her cheeks more hollow than last week. I suspect she isn’t sleeping well or eating much.

I know her name is Tracy, thanks to Head Office’s stupid policy of writing the customers name on the takeout cup. Even though she always sips her drink inside, I pretended to mistake her order once and asked for her name. I remember her surprise, the way her eyes opened wider and the tilt of her head, the tiny crease between her eyebrows as she answered me, “Um, Tracy… why?”

“Pretty name! Sorry, I thought you wanted takeout, my mistake,” I replied grinning like a fool.

“Ah… well now you know…” she leaned in to read my nametag, “Jack,” and smiled. A real smile that time. Fleeting, but real.

She checks her phone, mouth downturned and sighs.

Screw it’, I think and put a chocolate chip muffin on a plate, grab a fork and napkin, walk over to her table, and I place it in front of her.

“On the house. You’re a regular, you deserve a freebie,” I say.

“Oh! Um…” her mouth drops in surprise and she looks flustered momentarily and I see the tears pooling in those eyes that have captivated me from day one.

“Shit! What’s wrong? Tracy?” I panic and sit across from her, watching her try to gather herself together, “Are you ok? Tracy?”

She sniffs and blinks the tears away, not allowing them to spill down onto her cheeks, “I’m ok, I mean I will be. Sorry for that… I just… That was kind of you and I sort of can’t cope with kindness right now, you know?”

I nod, “Yeah, I get that. Anything I can help with? I know we don’t really know each other, but I’m a good listener.”

Her eyes search mine and I see her consider my offer. I see her struggle with the desire to unburden herself and her need for privacy.

“Thank you, but no. Talking won’t fix it. I just need to get over it.”

“It?” inwardly cursing myself for overstepping, but it slipped out before I could stop myself.

“Him…”   /   “Sorry, none of my business.”

We both speak at the same time, talking over each other.

“Oh! A guy, I should’ve guessed…” I reply, feeling my gut twist with jealousy that she loves someone. Irrational and stupid, but I want her to be mine.

She nods her head and looks down, “I better get going. Thanks for the muffin, but I’ve no appetite. And, thanks for caring…” she stands and picks up her bag. I mumble a goodbye and watch her leave.

I wonder if she will come back next week. I wonder if her heart will mend and if I can ever have a chance with her.

Maybe I should be grateful to the idiot that broke her heart? At least in time, she might, one day, look at me and see more than just a barista.


Copyright, 2015,

All rights reserved.