I was just commenting below…after “Y’s” comment:
I have to admit the muddy soccer field was an incredibly erotic scene…even though the whole time I was writing it…I WAS SAYING….”No! Don’t do it! WHat are you thinking?” But really, how could she not? It’s Lord Fyre!
And I realized, for those who have not read Sacred Revelations…the Soccer Field scene…which btw was written during a very long high school soccer tournament…6 hours in the blazing sun…which sent me to the car in search of something to write on…and ended up being several napkin’s…thank god for Wendy’s because McDonalds never puts spares in the bag!!
I am going to paste in an excerpt from that scene…but I think it needs a little set up…in Sacred Secrets, Celia, known as Kitten, became Garrett’s property…in this scene…she is considered to be Garrett’s…and Lord Fyre is Garrett’s best friend…I think you’ll see the problem now…
PG EXCERPT STARTS:
All the men retire to their cars, hot, muddy, exhausted, some broken and bruised; all except Lord Fyre. He stands in the middle of the field, looking toward my car. Parked next to his, he cannot avoid me any longer, if that is what he is trying to do.
I step from my car, walking around it to stand leaning against the hood, not approaching Lord Fyre. He stands center field looking at me.
Just breathe, I command myself, and it is as if the playing field before me breathes with me, expanding on my inhale, imploding on my exhale. I wonder if Lord Fyre feels it, it’s as if the entire universe is waiting with me to see just what he will do.
Slowly, he starts to walk toward me. He slows halfway to the parking lot to retrieve a stray soccer ball, kicking it back and forth between his feet as he jogs forward, short even rolls, bringing the ball in.
Kick, step, step, kick.
I am enthralled by his grace of movement, watching the muscles in his legs contract, even in the darkness I can see him, the glow of the city reflected off the clouds enough illumination for all I want to see.
Kick, step, step, kick.
Muscled and powerful, each step he takes is feral. At the edge of the grass he stops, lifting his face he looks at me. Playfully, he kicks the ball forward but stops its roll with a tap of his cleats, and rolls it backward, another cleat tap and it pops into the air behind him, shooting straight up, then plummeting fast, he nails it with a head spike, shooting it straight into me. Surprisingly, my reflexes are quick and I grab the ball to my chest, holding onto it, my heart pounding. He mock applauds me as he walks up to me, spiked shoes clattering on asphalt. Clunk, clunk.
My heartbeat joins his rhythm and the surrounding night air seems to sigh as he nears, or perhaps it is only me sighing.
Reaching me, he stops far enough away that we couldn’t possibly touch. “Hello, beautiful,” he says, smiling.
“Hello yourself.” I smile back.
“God, that smile,” he sighs, shaking his head. “You could own the world with the power of that smile.”
“I don’t want the world,” I answer arrogantly. “I want you.”
“You are Garrett’s now,” he answers strongly, refusing me in that sentence, but his eyes say more than the words. His eyes dare me to refute the words, which I can’t do.
I can, however, give him the truth. “Yes, I am his, but I am also yours. I didn’t ask for this to happen, but my heart, my soul, is divided. I want both of you equally, when I am with one of you, and without the other, I ache desperately. I love you both. Can you understand that?”
“Yes, I can understand, but have you explained this to Garrett?”
“Not in words, but he knows how I feel. He thinks I will get over you, with time.”
“And you don’t think you will?”
“I don’t want over you,.” I promise, the night seeming to swell and enclose us in her protection. Lord Fyre takes the two steps that separates us and enfolds me in his arms. His body is steaming hot, his skin and clothing damp. He smells of musk, hot, healthy male scent. I close my eyes and breathe him in, wanting to remember his scent forever, hoarding his scent in case he turns me away once I have said what I came here to say. I plant soft kisses on his silk-jersey-covered chest and he kisses the top of my head in return. “I missed you,” we say to each other.
His arms hold me tighter, trying to soften the blow of the words he is waiting to say, staving off the moment as long as he can. “I’m not a cheating kind of guy, love, what I do is in the open, or I don’t do it.”
His words don’t have the intended effect if he is trying to scare me off. Through his soccer shorts, I feel his penis hardening, thick and ready, pressed against my hip, and I hear his words for what they really are, a challenge.
“Do you remember when you told me that I was the one charting the course of how my relationships would play out?” I ask him, remembering that night. I was terrified, commanded by Lord Fyre to make love to Garrett one last time, knowing that the next morning I would be joining him for three months of servitude.
“Yes.”
“You were talking about this,” I say softly, stroking his hard length through his silk shorts. “You were talking about opening myself to you, of giving myself to you, of creating a relationship with you; but all I heard was a promise of three months, a promise of darkness filled with pleasure and pain. You wanted to make love to me then.”
“Yes.” His answer is a sigh caught by the dark night surrounding us.
“You want me still?” I ask, continuing before he has a chance to answer, “Enough to share me with Garrett?”
“Yes.”
“Good.” I wrap my hands into his damp ponytail and pull him into a kiss, whispering against his mouth. “I’m tired of always wanting what I can’t have. I want you both. Help me make that happen. Please.”
“What you’re asking will be difficult.”
“No more difficult than waking each morning only to die a little more each day because half of me is missing! Always missing! If I am with you, I miss him; if I am with him, I miss you. Only the two of you can make me whole. Help me?”
I watch him nod his head and make him say the words. “Promise me?”
“Do you even realize what you’re asking for?” he asks incredulously, then seeing my quick nod, promises, “I’ll help you.”
“Starting now?”
He frowns, but he thinks enough like me to understand what I am not saying. He warns, “This will change everything.”
I don’t know what I expected. Maybe I just expected him to say more, to expand on how to make this work, some compelling argument to take to Garrett. He doesn’t. He takes the soccer ball I’d forgotten I held and tosses it into the front seat of his car. Taking my hand, he leads me into the darkness of the soccer field and again it seems like the field is alive, breathing with my breath, inhaling, exhaling. He turns me to face him and the air seems suddenly too thick to breathe. I hadn’t really thought this through. I hadn’t really thought that he…and I…would…not now…and a small part of my brain screams at me, what are you doing, what about Garrett? Then Lord Fyre lowers me onto the wet grass and muddy center of the soccer field and I feel my heartbeat swell against the earth. My shirt soaks through, wetting my back, the damp earth soaking through my jeans as well. He follows me down, supporting his weight between knees and one hand, as if doing a girlie one-handed pushup. He strokes the side of my face. “I’ve done so much to you, but never this. I’ve never made love to you.”
If I was thinking about asking him to stop a second before with the intention of cluing Garrett in on my wants, my desires, my needs, that one sentence disconnects all logical thought. He wants to make love to me.
“Nervous?” I ask breathlessly, feeling a slight tremor in the hand stroking my cheek.
“Do I look nervous?” he asks casually, striving to look tough.
“Yes.” I giggle nervously.
“You can stop this.”
I pull my lower lip between my teeth, afraid to say a word. He takes my silence as a green light and pushing back onto both knees, he unzips my blue jeans and pulls them and my panties in one fluid motion down to just past my knees. He leaves the fabric there, wrapped around my legs, I try to kick them free, but he stills my leg with a touch. “No, leave them.”
Relaxing back onto the damp earth, two sensations strike me at once, water and mud pushing into my ass crack, cold and slimy, and his hands sliding under my shirt, covering me with mud.
END OF EXCERPT.
I hope you enjoyed this peek at Lord Fyre from Sacred Revelations…because his story…Unholy Promises is being edited now for a summer release date! So keep your eyes open for it…because if Sacred Revelations in hot…Unholy Promises is SMOKIN’!
Filed under: SExpressions, Humor, Life, Romance
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Regardless, I can’t stop thinking and dreaming about my little dream hovel.
