Flash Me: Touch

The wind blows through his hair, tousling the soft brown strands as he turns to me. My smile is automatic. I reach up to brush a curl out of his eye.

“You were right,” I said. “It is a beautiful day. I'm glad we did this.”

Another couple passes us as we continue our stroll. The woman smiles and nods as she notices our joined hands.

“I think we should get married in the fall. Here in the park.” Where the world can watch.

He plucks a leaf from my hair, his hand lingering. “I agree.”

Flash Me: First

I stopped breathing.

It wasn't the touch of his lips that did it. It was the deliberate way he ran his hand through my hair, gripped the back of my neck and pulled me close. It was the way he licked his lips as he looked into my eyes, into me, and smiled a little at what he saw. When he leaned close, my heart pounded. I molded myself to him, taking his heat. When our lips touched, I knew I was home. Complete. Loved.

He kissed me as if he never wanted to let go. I won't let him.

Flash Me: Friends and Lovers

Today's flash fiction comes in the form of an outtake from my upcoming online serial. Anyone who has read my short story First Impression will recognize David. The other person is his band mate Eli, pictured.

Eli couldn't meet my eyes. There was so much emotion on his face—jealousy was at the forefront. But there was something else. Resentment? I knew he liked Damon, we all do, but I never thought he'd take the whole thing so personally.

“I'm glad you were able to do this for us,” he said after a long silence.

Read: Use my “talents” to get us a gig opening for our favorite band. Somehow I don't think “thank you” will be on Eli's list of things to say when he knows the whole truth. Maybe he already does.

Flash Me: Inspired

I'm still working on the extended version of my short story, Starting Over, but I've got a little flash fiction that's an outtake from the longer story. Enjoy.

“Tease.”

“Yes.”

That little grin from Kurt would've inspired him to take over on any other day, but James held back. He wanted to see what Kurt was going to do. He was the novice after all. How much could he—

“Holy hell.” Kurt flicked his tongue again and James whimpered. His hips bucked.

“I guess you liked that.” Warm breath against his thigh. Higher. James felt the soft trace of that wicked tongue along his length. Then teeth, just gentle enough for him to feel it. And lose control. The kid had been taking notes.





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Photo © Les3photo8 | Dreamstime.com

Flash Me: After Work

I want him to fuck me over the leather chair.

There's no doubt as to why. I imagine the feel of the soft leather brushing against the front of my body every time he moves contrasted with the brush of hair and warm skin and hard muscle against my ass—I can almost come just from imagining the sensory overload.

I'll grip the back of the chair as he pushes into me. The fabric will creak and I'll inhale the sweet odor of old cologne and cigars as he pushes my legs further apart and runs his fingers through my hair.











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Photo © Baloncici | Dreamstime.com

Flash Me: Lick

“Mm.”

There was a sharp intake of breath and then a long sigh. Goosebumps sprang along his arms, but he didn't move. Didn't dare. Slowly, inch by inch, David relaxed onto the bed. He closed his eyes. The weight against his back shifted, hard and sticky against soft and yielding. Luke's tongue touched the spot between his shoulder blades again and he shuddered. His nipples tightened to stiff peaks against the soft cotton sheets.

Luke shifted again. His hand met David's hip, moved to cup the warm flesh rounded under his belly.

“How hard do you want it?”

Flash Me: The Stranger

He masks his interest behind a cup of coffee, an adequate prop. I smile and keep my eyes on my Kindle. I can't tell if his eyes are hazel or brown from here, but lord, he has the sweetest smile—perfect teeth and dimples get me every time.

I don't care what's happening in Coda—I could be reading about changes to the tax code for all the interest it holds now. Before I can panic and talk myself out of looking again, I hear a throat clearing above me.

I look up. He smiles.

Oh hell. I never stood a chance.



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Photo © Hurricanehank | Dreamstime.com

Flash Me: Play Time

Rain pulled against the bonds securing his hands to the bed. “Let me out of this.”

Hot liquid pooled against his skin, trailing down his stomach in thick rivulets. Pain flashed in his eyes, brilliant and white hot. He hissed, pain quickly turning into pleasure. Rain heard a chuckle from above and shifted his hips in place. Touch me, please, he thought. He needed friction, something to ease the tension building inside him. The wax began to cool and he whimpered as Dashel tilted the candle and poured more.

He smiled as Rain struggled; the night had just begun.





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Photo © Berean | Dreamstime.com

Flash Me: Reward

Soft leather tassels glided against his skin before being replaced by the heat of Alex's tongue. Colin shifted; the cuffs clanged against the bars of the headboard. He braced when Alex inhaled sharply.

“Yes, it will hurt.” The whisper was accompanied by a sharp flick from the whip in his hand. Colin's hip stung. “But I promise to make it better.”

Better. Harder. The sharp touches, hard lashes and soothing control that would soon take over his world. Colin relaxed, relieved it would finally come. He would take his punishment. Welcome it. Reward for being a bad boy.



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Photo © Artyom Yefimov | Dreamstime.com

Flash Me: Exposed

Greetings, readers. I've decided to introduce a new weekly segment on my blog, flash fiction. What does that mean? I get to tease you all with 100 words of sexy, romantic or a fun combination of the two. I'm keeping it at 100 words because it's more of a fun challenge that way. All feedback is appreciated.

Exposed

Nails skated down the column of his back, leaving the faintest mark. He tried not to shiver, to let Jay know how much it got to him, but when those fingers trailed over his cheeks, lower, parting him, he let out a soft sigh.

“We've waited too long.”

A whisper in the dark just before the flick of a warm tongue met his skin. He pushed his hips onto the soft sheets, seeking friction. Relief. Escape.

There was no escaping the delicate invasion. He was naked. Open. Vulnerable. And relieved at not having to hide from what he wanted.




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Image: farconville / FreeDigitalPhotos.net