wordsbykristinecharles

Happy New Year!

I’ve been pottering around the house today after a quiet New Year’s Eve, and reading everyone’s celebratory posts and those posts looking into the new year. Usually I’m all over that on social media but, this year, especially after the recent siege in Sydney, things have felt more reflective.

And so, I’ve been sitting here reflecting on just how lucky I am. I’ve got a great family and wonderful friends, all of whom are in generally good health, a job that I enjoy (most of the time!) and fabulous work colleagues. I’ve got a roof over my head, a reliable car and the means to indulge some of my whims… including the means and the motivation to spend time creating characters in my head and putting them in lots of tricky situations before giving them their happy ever after.

Which leads me to my New Year’s resolutions. I make all the usual ones every year – eat better, move more, yadda yadda yadda. And I’ll still do that, because, let’s be realistic, I could stand to lose a few kilos. But this year is going to be the year of the book.

I’ve got a good third (maybe a little more) written of Katherine Montgomery’s story which remains to be titled because I suck at titles. She’s all kinds of self sufficient and I’m loving helping Will Bartlett sweep her off her feet. I can’t wait for you all to meet her. I’ve also got Annabelle Reynolds regularly whispering in my ear and, while she really is normally the shy, retiring type, she wants her happy ending with Reed Mackenna, and soon! Finally, I’ve got this little idea bubbling away that…

Well, I can’t give all my secrets away!

So, I really should get back to the writing. To you and yours, I hope you had a wonderful New Year’s Eve and that you will have a magical, wonderful, amazing 2015. And I leave you with my mantra for the year… I can and I will!

I’m still here!

Yep, I’m still around, but real life and a summer cold with related side effects (boo!) has seen me be very absent from my newly minted social media platforms for the last few weeks.

But today sees me getting back into the swing of things… and posting another snippet as a little ‘pre-Christmas’ present.

It’s yet another Sinful Sunday Flash Fiction entry (www.rebeccagraceallen.com), photo prompt below.

Don’t forget to drop me a line if you like it (@wordsbykc on Twitter or Kristine Charles on Facebook).

She loved the silky soft skin stretched tight over his hot, hard cock as he pushed into her mouth. The veins were prominent, textured against her lips. His pubic hair was trimmed close against his skin but it tickled her face as she swallowed him down.

She loved the pull of his hand tangled in her hair, holding her as he rhythmically thrust in and out of her mouth, working himself deeper down her throat. She closed her eyes and focused on breathing through her nose, working her lips and tongue against him, wanting to please him, to make him come.

She loved the rough texture of the wool of his trousers against her hands as she held his hips to steady herself, reminding her that she was completely naked and he was mostly clothed. She listened to the jingle of his belt and the rasp of his breathing as he used her to bring himself over the edge.

She loved that moment when the cold metal of his wedding ring brushed against her skin, cupping her cheek as he slowly withdrew his softening cock.

She loved him. And, as he lowered her to the ground, he would love her.

It’s getting hot in here…

I’m in Sydney and it’s hot here today. Not as hot as was predicted (thankfully!) but it’s hot. So I’m indoors, drinking coffee, writing and enjoying the air-conditioning. No one ever said I wasn’t contrary.

Others, however, are enjoying the outdoors and, of course, I thought of this little outdoor flash …

This was another Sinful Sunday Flash Fiction entry over at http://www.rebeccagraceallen.com, with a gorgeous prompt picture (see the bottom of the post, again, it’s not my photo… credit where credit is due).

If you like it, let me know?

The bark was rough beneath her fingers, the sun warm on her bare skin. His stubble tickled and his breath was hot as his lips moved against her shoulder.

“I’m going to fuck you. Hard. Here, where anyone might come along and see us.”

She whimpered, his crude words and rough voice provoking another rush of moisture between her legs.

“Dirty girl. You want that don’t you?” he asked, his fingers probing, pushing inside her. “Do you want someone to see me fucking you?”

Unable to articulate her desire, she bent forward, and rubbed her ass against his swollen cock. He took her invitation and thrust into her, deep and hard and fast.

“I love your pussy. So hot and wet around my cock. Always so ready for me.”

He slipped one hand over her hip and splayed it low over her belly, putting pressure there and holding her against him. He hooked his other arm around her neck and traced her lips with his finger.

“Suck. Taste yourself on me.”

She sucked, tasting her salty flavour on his skin, before biting down on his finger.

“Naughty girl,” he chuckled, pinching her clit in retaliation. “Come for me. Now.”

It’s not quite New Year’s yet…

But, it’s a ‘new year’ for my site, so I thought I’d post a New Year’s Eve flash fiction that was written for the Sinful Sunday Flash Fiction competition over at http://www.rebeccagraceallen.com. The photo prompt I used is above (credit to the photographer… it’s not mine) and the word prompt was ‘bubbly’! Let me know what you think?

“The bubbly’s gone to my head,” I declared throwing myself back on his hardwood floor, eyes closed and arms thrown carelessly above my head.

I could hear him moving towards me, slipping off the couch and crawling across the floor. I felt him pause beside me for a moment before he reached out and ran the tip of his finger across the swell of my breast.

“If the bubbly’s gone to your head, does that mean I’m taking advantage of you if I do this?” he asked, his hand pushing up the little piece of black lace nothing I wore, baring my skin.

I grinned, shaking my head from side-to-side, eyes still closed. He began to work on my sparkly stockings, easing them down over my hips and thighs; making sure he had the glittery fuck-me heels back in place before shifting himself above me.

“It’s almost midnight,” he murmured, pushing against me.

I wondered when he got naked, but I didn’t really care. He was hot, hard, ready and I wanted him inside me to welcome in the New Year. As the big grandfather clock struck midnight I tilted my hips and he slid home.

Happy New Year indeed.