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Posts from the ‘Steamy’ Category

French kiss

Day seven and I’m still here, although it’s been a long day and I almost forgot today’s post! Let’s hope I get it finished before I fall asleep!

Today is ‘F’ day and, after much internal deliberation, the word inspiration for the day is ‘French kiss’ and is used in a little flash fiction.


“Crap, it’s really cold,” I said, sliding out of the taxi.

He looked at me, eyes sliding up and down my bare legs as he handed me the umbrella. “I know, but we don’t have far to go.”

The day had been miserable, misty and damp, but we were in Paris and the weather didn’t seem to matter. Waking up late, we took time to make ourselves even later. When we finally rolled out of bed, we’d enjoyed a very late breakfast of flaky pastries and coffee in a little patisserie in the Latin Quarter and then spent a few hours wandering through beautiful art in the Musee d’Orsay. He’d dragged me away on closing, hurrying me back to the hotel to get ready for our dinner.

“Are you okay to walk in those shoes?” he asked, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I mean, I like them, but they’re not really made for walking.”

“They’re fine. I’m used to them.”

He grabbed my hand and tugged me across the plaza, apparently a little excited about his plans for tonight. Then, all of a sudden, he stopped and pulled me into his arms, the umbrella tilting to the side as my hands came to rest on his chest.

“I love you,” he murmured, pressing his lips against my forehead.

“And I love you,” I replied, lifting my face towards his. “Thank you for this weekend.”

“My pleasure.”

I laughed. “It will be your pleasure later, but only if I don’t freeze to death first! Let’s find this restaurant, okay?”


Just a little snippet tonight… but as always, I want to know what you think. Or feel free to explore the site a little!

See you tomorrow with ‘G’.

Escort.

Today’s post is brought to you by the letter ‘E’… and the ‘e’ word, escort.

A few months ago I read an article on a male escort service operated by two women from Melbourne, Australia. I was intrigued, and I’ve been following their blog (dearaphroditeblog.blogspot.com.au) for a while now (an excellent source of inspiration!).
So today, I thought I’d start a little scene involving a woman, Gabriella, and her escort, Antonio.

As always, don’t hesitate to let me know what you think… I’d love to know!


Sipping on a glass of red wine I wondered, not for the first time, what the hell I was doing. 

Last week I’d overheard two women on a train discussing the benefits of male escorts and, when they’d let the name of the agency slip, something had made me Google it. I’d been busy at work, in a bit of a dry spell in my personal life and… well. It sounded like a good idea at the time.

From there, a few too many glasses of sauvignon blanc had seen me completing an online booking form, making arrangements to meet Antonio, the Italian Stallion. That hadn’t been the end of it, the booking had only been confirmed when a woman named Priscilla had called me yesterday to confirm the booking, taking my credit card details and suggesting I meet Antonio at this little hole in the wall wine bar not even a block from my apartment.

It was, Priscilla told me, completely up to me whether I took him home; but either way, my credit card would be charged. At the time, I’d agreed, thinking that was fair. But now, sitting here, my stomach was churning and I was thinking that $1500 was going to go to waste.

“Gabriella?”

Holy shit.

Antonio, the Italian Stallion was gorgeous. Much better in person than he was in his profile picture. He had thick, dark curly hair, a well groomed beard and piercing green eyes that were kind of intimidating. It felt like he could read my mind and, given where my mind had immediately gone, I wasn’t sure that was a good thing.

“It is Gabriella, right?” 

I nodded, and swallowed. “Yeah. Yes, Gabriella. You must be Antonio?”

“I am. May I sit?”

“Yes, please. Of course.”

“Thank you,” Antonio said, sitting across from me at the small round table and reaching out to cover my hand with his. He grinned, a cheeky grin. “So, what brings such a beautiful woman out by herself tonight?”

I laughed. It had been exactly the right thing for him to say.

“Well, I had a bit of a rough day at work,” I began, taking another sip of my wine. “And I wanted to take a bit of time to decompress.”

Antonio idly stroked his fingers over the back of my hand, causing my skin to tingle. “What is it that you do?”

“I’m in banking, corporate asset financing.” I shook my head as I saw his forehead crinkle slightly. “I help companies organise financing to buy and lease property and equipment.” Listening to myself I realised I sounded pretty boring.

Antonio nodded. “You must work a lot?”

“Some would say too much,” I replied. “All work and no play makes Gabriella a dull girl.”

“I’m sure that’s not the case,” he said, glancing at my almost empty wine glass. “Would you like another?”

This was the now or never point. If I ordered another glass it would take time, time for the wine to be served, and for me to drink it. And this was only a three hour engagement.

“Do you like nebbiolo?” I asked.

Antonio looked at me strangely but nodded. “I do.”

“I have a bottle at my apartment,” I said, looking down at the table. “Would you like to join me for a glass?”

Antonio smiled. “I would.”


And, fade to black. I could be convinced to continue this little scene later in the month, so make sure you let me know if you want to see what happens next.

It’s ‘F’ day tomorrow… see you then.

Danse du Ventre

Welcome to ‘D’ day. Today’s inspiration, brought to you by the letter ‘D’, is danse du ventre.  The English translation of danse du ventre is belly dance.

There are, apparently many conflicting theories as to when and where belly dance originated, but it is thought to be one of the oldest forms of dance, and it is said to contain a mixture of different dance styles.

Today, I’m giving you a snippet of a short scene involving my current main character, Katherine, and her hero, Will. It’s a look ahead at some point in the future but, given it’s been raining and cold here all day, I was in the mood for some happy.

As always, I’d love to hear what you think!

Adult words and content below.


“Baby, what are you doing?”

Honestly, I had no idea what I was doing. Last weekend, after imbibing a reasonable amount of fairly expensive French champagne at an ungodly hour of the morning, I’d spent two hours of my life taking a belly-dance class as part of a friend’s bachelorette weekend. Tonight, after three glasses of pinot noir and more information than I’d ever wanted to know about how my best friend had seduced her husband-to-be with her newly learned belly-dancing skills, I thought it would be a great idea to dance for Will.

I’d thought about it all the way home and even done a quick search for erotic music on my iPhone, downloading a short track with a pulsing drum beat. The minute I’d made it through the door I’d stripped to my underwear which was, thankfully, a gorgeous black satin and lace set with garters that he’d bought for me a few weeks ago. I’d been ready to go but, now that I’d found him sprawled all manly-like on the red velvet couch in our bedroom, wearing only loose black pajama pants and with a heavy crystal tumbler of scotch dangling from his hand, I was losing my nerve.

“Babe?” he asked, looking at me curiously.

With a deep breath and my heart pounding, I crossed the room and handed him my unlocked phone, the song ready to go. I stepped back and placed my hands on my hips, cocking my head to the side.

“Press play.”

As the beat started, I started moving my hips, desperately trying to recall the teacher’s instructions from the class, the counts and the steps and the patterns. I had no idea what I was doing. I felt like an idiot. And then I looked up at Will.

His lips glistened, from the scotch I assumed, and his eyes were heavy, hooded, as he watched me awkwardly shimmy my way across the space between us. And suddenly I felt a little less stupid. I relaxed a little more into the steps, bending my knees and moving my hips more sharply as the beat shifted. I turned and wiggled my ass at him, before turning back around to find him slouched back further onto the couch, his legs spread wider and clear evidence of his interest making itself known at the apex of his thighs.

My heart skipped a beat. I loved that I could do that to him, have that affect on him, even though I most definitely wasn’t perfect. I shimmy stepped my way towards him, coming to a stop standing between his legs, one knee cocked as I continued to move my hips.

“Where the fuck did you learn that?” he asked, one handing reaching out to run a finger over the front of my hip. “That’s fucking hot.”

I reached for his hand and twined my fingers with his, pressing our joined hands to my hip. “Anna’s bachelorette weekend.”

“Fuck,” he murmured, leaning forward and pulling his hand loose before cupping my ass cheeks in his large hands. “Come here.”

He tugged me forward, and I knelt on the couch straddling him, my knees pressing into either side of his hips and his erection firmly pressed between my legs. When he had me exactly where he wanted me he reached up, cupping the back of my head and pulling me down, taking my lips with his.


And, that’s it for today… don’t mean to leave you hanging but, a girl’s gotta save something for the manuscript!

Tomorrow is a rest day… but Monday brings inspiration in the form of the letter ‘E’. I’m thinking escort right now but it is Easter Sunday tomorrow, so who knows what ‘E’-spiration might find me (and if I can’t have e-spiration, a few Easter eggs will suffice!).

Bad Sex!

Today is day two of the A-to-Z Challenge and my inspiration phrase is: bad sex!

We’ve all had it… and yet in many romance novels all the sex is good (really good…!) so I thought it would be fun to try something different.

Note that adult content follows below.


Taking a deep breath, she wriggled around the bed, trying to get comfortable. He took that as encouragement.

“Yeah, baby, you feel so good. You’re so wet around my huge cock.”

She turned her head, stifling a laugh and disguising it as a moan. He’d held so much promise in the club, a gorgeous six foot something hunk of man with a rock hard body covered in well fitting jeans and a tight black t-shirt. She had to admit she was a little surprised when he approached her, but he was hot, he’d bought her alcohol, he’d moved well on the dance floor and he’d been able to kiss. General consensus among her friends was that at least three of the four noted characteristics signalled some promise for for skill in bed. They’d all been wrong.

His hips jerked between her legs, his pelvis slapping against her as he moved. She slipped her hand between them, circling her finger around her swollen clit. She figured that tonight, if she wanted to come, it was going to be up to her, as he seemed to have no idea. She arched up, angling her pelvis, trying to maneuver him into the right spot.

“Oh, oh, fuck…”

She moved her finger faster but it was no use. As he came, she knew she wasn’t going to get there tonight. She sighed as he slowed between her legs, his face resting against her neck, panting wetly against her skin.

“Was it good for you?” he asked, eyes bright and looking at her expectantly.

She avoided the desperate need to roll her eyes. “Of course baby,” she lied, patting his face. “You were great.”

“Awesome.” And with that, he rolled off her, pulled the condom off, dropped it beside the bed and settled down, making himself comfortable.

“How about you make us some sandwiches? I’ve worked up an appetite.”


‘C’ you tomorrow… I haven’t decided on which of two words I’m going with tomorrow, so you’ll have to check back and see what I come up with!

Aphrodisiac…

Oh wow… it’s been a day and, for a few hours this afternoon, I thought I wasn’t going to make day one of the A-to-Z Challenge.  But I did…  It’s not particularly polished but I’ve got a little snippet below!

Today’s word inspiration is, as the title of this post suggests, aphrodisiac.  And did you know that strawberries have apparently been an aphrodisiac since the times of ancient Rome.  They’re also good for you; strawberries contain more vitamin C than other berries as well as a good amount of potassium, folic acid and some iron and fibre.


He bit the tip of the strawberry and chewed thoughtfully, looking down at the woman sprawled wantonly beneath him. She was lush, all creamy pale skin and heavy curves with long dark hair spread wildly beneath her on the pillow. Leaning forward he dragged the strawberry down the side of her neck and over the swell of her breast, following the line of sweet strawberry juice with his tongue. As he found her nipple and started to suck, she moaned and arched up against him. He pulled away with a pop and rubbed the strawberry over the hard point.

“You like that?” he asked with a grin.

“You know I do,” she replied, cupping her own breasts and arching towards him. “Please.”

He laughed and took another bite of the strawberry, rubbing it over her lips as he chewed and swallowed, then pressing it into her mouth. He enjoyed teasing her.
She took a bite, claiming the rest of the plump fruit and he dropped the little bundle of leaves back onto the plate on the table beside the bed. She’d only just finished chewing when he claimed her strawberry stained lips with his own, demanding entrance with his tongue.

She let him in, matching his demands with hers and they kissed, rolling from one side of the massive king sized bed to the other, laughing and sighing, enjoying the play. Tangled up in the crisp white sheets, they eventually came to a stop, with her astride him, his erection pressing hard between her legs.

“You’re gorgeous,” he murmured, tugging the sheet away from her torso. He slid his hands up over her hips and waist, cupping her breasts in his hands. He rolled the nipples between his fingers and grinned as the blush spread over her chest and neck, travelling up to her cheeks. “You’re especially gorgeous when you blush.”


See you tomorrow with my “B” post.  Tomorrow’s inspiration is “bad sex”!

Time stands still… please!

OMG.  Where has this year gone.  I can’t believe it’s already 1 February 2015…   Time is moving way too fast for me!

For someone who is also trying to hold down a full time job, I’ve got way too many projects on the go and tomorrow we’re about to start some home improvements which are sure to add another level of chaos to life.   So I wanted to take this opportunity to live in the moment, so to speak and give you another little snippet for your reading pleasure.

This is another flash fiction I wrote for an online competition (Sinful Sunday at http://www.rebeccagraceallen.com).

Take a moment and enjoy!


She didn’t know how much time had passed since she had entered the room. She had no sense of how long he had watched her. But she knew this wasn’t about her. She presented herself for his pleasure.

Taking a deep breath she sank further into the quiet. She felt the net of her stockings cut into her knees, the soft leather of the couch beneath her hands. She felt the heavy leather of the cuffs that confined her wrists, the cool of the satin that covered her eyes. She felt the soft lace that cupped her breasts and hid her centre.  Soft lace that she could feel becoming wet as her arousal flowed, lubricious, between her legs.

Beautiful,” he murmured from across the room. “Are you going to come for me just like that?”

“Yes Sir,” she whispered, giving herself over to the sensations of his eyes on her body and his vibrator humming inside her. She braced herself, locking her elbows and focusing her attention on that place deep inside. It didn’t take long.

“That’s it,” she heard him mutter, as she broke apart with a shudder and a lewd moan. “Come for me.”

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).

Sinful-Sunday-flashfiction-week-31-prompt


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.”

http://dawghouse.tumblr.com/post/2183110948

It’s not quite New Year’s yet…

Sinful-Sunday-Flash-Fiction-New-Years-Eve-4

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.