I’ve been editing for what seems like forever now, and mind you, these are just SELF-EDITS. The true editing begins as soon as Kimberly Ito, my amazing editor, receives my manuscript. I can’t wait to conclude these self-edits because if anything, I want to impress the SHIT out of her. You see, when she received the manuscript of chasing Reese. last year, it was in deplorable condition. She was tough on me… The GOOD kind of tough that makes you want to strive to write better because she expects and demands EXCELLENCY from you, and that’s why I will only work with her. She keeps me grounded and questions things I would never think twice about… So Kimberly, this post is for you. Please don’t judge it too harshly. *cringes thinking she’s somewhere near Okinawa in front of her monitor shaking her head at my terrible grammar/tense/punctuation skills* *bats eyes coquettishly*
Due to strong language and sexual content, this scene is not suitable for readers under the age of 18.
This scene contains lots of motherfucking bad words, a sensual to hot, panty-scorching sex scene. No nipples were harmed in the making of this scene. On the contrary… But I digress.
The writer is not to be held at fault for any wet panties, or the urge to climb your man (or lady, or both) like a tree after reading this snippet.
I’m a little ridiculous but you already knew that. I’ve tried to lure you in with my terrible humor. SCORE!
FINAL WARNING: HAPPY READING!
You know the feeling you get when you’re itchy and you scratch, and it feels so damn good, but you just can’t stop? Even if it means you’ll be sore or bleed afterwards, it doesn’t matter because the pleasure outweighs the pain. I get the exact same feeling every time we are intimate. It’s a delicious itch that gets scratched over and over again, and it feels amazing. Who knew I’d get a kick out of rough sex? But the sound of Stryder pounding his cock deep into me again and again has me all kinds of delirious.
“Fuck me good, Stryder. Please… don’t… stop!” I cry into his ear, a never-ending chant that makes him plunge deeper and further into me. His groans and ragged breaths undo me; I’m dancing across the midnight-blue sky, twirling around the fucking moon, and floating back down to Earth with the grace of a hummingbird. Stryder withdraws and kisses the space between my breasts and I instinctively wrap my arms around his neck, showering him with kisses.
“I love you, Stryder,” I whisper in between ragged breaths.
“I love you too, Raven Girl,” Stryder replies with a smile, trying to catch his breath. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah… but why’d you stop?” I pout my lips.
“I needed a moment. I’m not quite done with you yet,” he replies with a chuckle. “Thirsty?”
I nod as he rises from the bed and walks towards the bathroom, then returns with a glass of water. I drink it so eagerly some of the droplets dribble down my chin and pitter-patter against my breasts. Not one to be wasteful, Stryder eagerly laps them up; trailing his tongue down my chin, past my neck, and stopping in between my breasts. Halting abruptly, he snaps his head up and, with his hands, demands the glass of water.
I tilt my head, and hand over the tumbler. Before I can put two and two together, I feel the cold sting of the thick glass pressing against my nipple. I moan in shock and pleasure, and Stryder lets out a sexy growl of approval. With an ear-splitting grin, he straddles me and tips the glass, allowing small droplets of ice-cold water to land on the tip of my hardened nipple. Stryder lowers his head and I squirm with delight when I feel the warmth of his tongue lapping, then suctioning, the cold wetness away. He unlatches with a loud pop, and lifts his shimmering eyes and satisfied smirk to meet my scandalized gaze.
He lifts the glass and repeats the same delectable torment on my other nipple. I watch him in wonder, asking myself if our intimacy will ever go bland in the years to come. My mind goes haywire thinking beyond the present. I have no doubt Stryder is happy with me; his actions, both in and out of bed point to it. I don’t know what tomorrow holds let alone months from now, but I can’t help but dream of a future beyond what we currently have. My heart skips a beat as hope blossoms deep within my belly.
“Hey, where’d you go?” Stryder asks with a heart-melting smile. “Don’t tell me it was me, because you make o’s with your mouth when I’m sucking your nipples. The smile on your face is priceless, so spill the beans, Pardo. Tell me what’s going on inside that pretty head of yours.”
I exhale a shaky breath and hesitate before speaking. I can’t tell him what’s on my mind; what if I’m rushing things too fast? I don’t want him to believe I want to take our relationship beyond what he’s prepared for. I refuse to admit that I see myself married to him, the mother of his children.
“Nothing, really, I’m just happy with you, Stryder. I love being with you, sharing my ups and downs, kissing you and spending time with you. I’m going to miss you when you leave.”
Stryder’s hazel eyes look deeply into mine. “Ditto, Cat. I love you too.”
Sighing deeply I hold him tight. I feel terrible hiding my true feelings and desires, but at the same time, I know I’m doing the right thing.
“You know you can tell me anything, right?” Stryder whispers against my cheek. “Anything.”
I nod in agreement, yet a cold shiver runs up my spine. Stryder knows I’m not being forthright, but he’s too much of a gentleman to press the subject further. Instead, he raises his head and pours a small stream of water on my belly, resuming his affections.
©Imy Santiago, 2015 finding Reese. a SAFELIGHT novel vol.2−ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.
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