Who doesn’t love a good bodice-ripping romance novel. God knows I do. I read them all the time; at the laundromat, on the bus, in the lunch room at work and even at home before Family Feud. Why, then, do they always leave me feeling so unfulfilled? Well, better to light a match than curse the darkness, I always say, so I decided to write one. The following excerpt is from “Chapter V: Fernando on the Balcony.” This is just a taste, friends. With any luck, I’ll soon be the next Sophie Jordan. Please to enjoy a passage from my new novel: Yearning by Moonlight: The Seduction of Lady Catherine©.
In the moonlight, Fernando’s body seemed to be chiseled out of turkey meat with one notable exception; this turkey had nipples, and they were rigid with longing. As he walked towards Lady Catherine’s canopy bed, his buttocks jostled like a pair of puppies playing under a Speedo blanket, and he was momentarily silhouetted against the window. The curtains billowed around him.
Soon, his shadow joined the darkness and Lady Catherine might have thought she was again alone but for the scent of his man sweat lingering like ozone after a passionate thunderstorm. While her eyes probed the darkness, she suddenly felt his heat. He was hovering over her. As he lowered his face towards hers, his pectorals flexed in time with her racing heart. She felt his brown, flowing mane tickle her forehead, and the stubble on his perfect jaw rasped her velvet cheek; prickling, tickling. She drew a breath in spite of herself at the strange combination of pain and pleasure.
His lips were nearly upon hers, and they parted slightly with a moist slurp. She writhed beneath him. She could brook no more of this smoking smolder like that of damp firewood. Lacing her fingers in the hair on the back of his head, she pulled his mouth to hers. His tongue was flat and thick, and it explored her mouth like a curious boy in a confectioner’s shoppe; rushing first to her cheeks, then behind her teeth and finally deep down her throat. She gagged with longing for him.
His nose whistled its dragon steam as her loins’ tinder began to flame. He pulled away and her breath hitched in fits and starts. His massive tongue pushed out betwixt his lips, and he began to lick her face. His moist, powerful tongue was like a twelve-ounce rib eye steak being dragged across a mewling, newborn babe. Her back arched.
Suddenly, she felt his lips around her nose. At first the sucking was gentle and experimental, but soon enough, the vacuum in his mouth intensified and he sucked it like a triple-thick milkshake through a cocktail straw. She felt years of repressed desire flow through her nasal passages and out of her nostrils. The room began to spin, and she felt her consciousness being sucked into him as well. Without warning she succumbed to the sweet, sweet darkness.
The next morning, she awoke with a new-found vigor and an amazingly clear head. She folded back the blankets and walked to the window. Outside was her midnight caller. In his hand was his trusty shovel and the sun was just beginning to bronze his powerful shoulders. He lifted his head towards her window and she pressed her hand against the glass. With a nod, he was off to muck out the stalls of the Estate’s Palominos. This would be an interesting breakfast indeed.
More to come…