Thursday Taster comes alive with a boiling passion. Again, I am continuing my story about Aynne Taylor and her love and desire for a giant of a man, Simon D'Istrafrio, who is an imposing figure of a black opera star in San Francisco. When last we left them, Aynne was waiting quietly, patiently, for Simon to join her at the Whitcomb Hotel in room 457.
Please read the excerpt of my WIP, Taylor Savior, for Breathless Press. Below, you will find all the other skilled wordsmiths offering up an excerpt of their own work in progress for your entertainment pleasures. Please leave me a comment and then have a visit to my prurient partners and have a sweet read.
Wait...shhhh..he is here. Enjoy ~ ☼ღஜ レo√乇 ¸.☆¨¯`*.✿.*˜"*°
This huge giant of a man, as black a man as black could ever
be, withdrew from her arms gently. He pulled back and looked into Aynne’s deeply
emerald hazel eyes.
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Please read the excerpt of my WIP, Taylor Savior, for Breathless Press. Below, you will find all the other skilled wordsmiths offering up an excerpt of their own work in progress for your entertainment pleasures. Please leave me a comment and then have a visit to my prurient partners and have a sweet read.
Wait...shhhh..he is here. Enjoy ~ ☼ღஜ レo√乇 ¸.☆¨¯`*.✿.*˜"*°
"As
our flesh grew and yearned as one..." |
“You are magnificent, a beauty that captivated me the moment
I went onstage tonight. You glowed like a vision, put before me as though you
were a destiny, of sorts, I should never refuse. You looked like a dream, a
virginal iridescent lily, petals open – beckoning - in a sea of thorns placed
before me to enrich my life, somehow.”
“Simon,” his name fell from her lips in a honeyed slow whisper.
He ran the back of his fingers along the soft curve of her
neck at her jaw from her earlobe to her chin where he stopped and placed his
thumb on her ruby lower lip. He slipped his thumb into her mouth, parted her
lips then pulled her tightly to his form and kissed her deeply as he pushed his
tongue between her lips. He withdrew his thumb and left the hot wet digit on
her cheek as he kissed her magically in a new beginning. He ran his palm to the
spaghetti strap of her gown on her naked shoulder, hooked it with his deft
thumb and dropped the strap over her shoulder to her arm.
His lips, in a journey of discovery, trailed down her neck and
planted a kiss on the rise of her bare shoulder. A deep throaty quiet undertone
carried his words to Aynne.
"I hope I can show you how I feel, how profoundly I
need you.”
Her auburn hair fell away from her face bearing naked the
object of his yearning. She felt her fevered cheek blush at having heard his
soulful desire.
The flutter of thousands of wings exploded in her heart and her
breath seized. Her palms grew damp, nervous in anticipation. Even with her eyes
now cast to the floor, her body betrayed her own paralyzed passions.
Her breast tightened around a stifled scream, allowing but a
whimpered "............please" to escape and fill the room with her
heat. She reached out with an eagerness she had never known yet knew
instinctively. Her arms opened without her willing; she reached for him and
wrapped him in her impatience. He pressed responsively against her. His body, his
scent, the slight glistening of his perspiration on her cheek, weakened her
resolve and Aynne’s knees buckled under the heady weight of her desire. She
sighed into his chest as he caught her falling body. In the trail of his
scorching touch, Aynne’s skin came alive with hunger.
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