Thursday, 21 June 2012


It may be raining here but the sun is shining in this Solstice story. 
Continued from earlier extract:

She bit his neck lightly, like a lioness play fighting. He caught her wrists and flattened them to the ground above her head. Their bodies bucked and squirmed, still clothed, still separate. The moment would arrive in its own time; there was no need to rush.
Far away, on the other side of the field, the music grew louder, brasher, heating up with the day. Distant cries and shouts drifted across from the stallholders, the wholefood merchants, the body painters, the tattoo artists. The crowds would be thronging the streets of the temporary town: Easy Street, Sleazy Street, Murder Row. Stonehenge at the summer solstice, a place of refuge from the normal everyday world.
As the sun rose higher in the sky and the heat of the day brought beads of sweat to their foreheads, item by item, they removed their heavy clothes. Wool, cotton, denim – warm layers to ward off the chill of night and dawn – were discarded, thrown aside. When Josy felt his silky skin against hers, she shivered. But not with cold. Oh, no, not with cold at all.
Naked on the cloak they lay, limbs entwined about each other. First they looked, gazed upon each other’s beauty, eyes caressing tender flesh, unused to such exposure, shy, yet bold. Josy tilted her head back and gave herself up to his searching gaze. When his mouth came into contact with her flesh, she trembled.
Softly, he explored her, his tongue and lips barely touching her tingling skin. Slowly growing bolder, he nudged and nuzzled and nibbled.
The dry pull of his lips on her nipple, the suck-suck moistening it, sending darts of fire to her groin; her hips rolling side to side as though to avoid it, yet not to avoid it.
No no, yes, no no. 

Out in an ebook anthology shortly.

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