WIP: Sometimes you need to be pulled out of yourself in the filthiest way possible #amwriting #erotic #romance

SexyI know, I’m worthless. But I swear, every time I think about blogging, something happens. Life, hunger, the need to – well, never mind that. Here’s something a little sexy from Laurel and Sam. This tale is starting to take a rather dark turn. I think it might be good. But what the fuck do I know? LOL. Here’s a lil’ unedited snippet for you. In this scene, something from Laurel’s past has upset her. And when someone like Sam is in the vicinity, you naturally call on what will make you feel better fast…

“Hmmm. I could practically feel the ice crystals forming in the air around you. What happened?” Sam turned her to face him. “What did he say to you?”

She shook her head and burrowed into his arms, arms tight around his waist, breasts and nose mashed against his body. She sighed when she felt his big hands run up and down her back.

“Laurel. If he upset you – ”

She laughed softly, resisting when he tried to pry her loose to see her face. She didn’t want to talk right now. She broke free and pushed him back. He stumbled, but there was a club chair behind him, a big comfy leather thing that she liked seeing him in. It fit him perfectly, and now he flopped down into it, long legs sprawled making it easy for her to drop to her knees between them.

He grinned when he realized what she was doing. Shaking his head even as he set his big hands on the arm rests out of the way so she could undo his belt and zip. He watched, still smiling as she tugged his boxers and trousers down his legs, paused to remove his shoes, then stripped him completely naked from the waist down.

“Well, that was fast,” he said, tongue firmly in cheek.

Her hands cradled his wakening cock firmly, knowingly. “So will this be,” she promised, and swallowed him.

Sam hissed in shock, his hands immediately cupping the back of her head. “Laurel, slow-er.”

She grunted. He understood. No.

“Please, baby.”

She released him with a pop. “I said no.”

But he just laughed and pulled her to her feet.

She glared at him. “You’re the only man I know of who’d turn down a blow job.”

“I’m not turning it down.”

“Then why is the back of my throat not flirting with the head of your cock right now?”

He laughed so hard he spluttered. “That mouth. What’s happened to my southern belle?”

She’s been kicked one time too many, she could have said, instead she just shrugged.

He pushed the hair back from her face with one hand and wrapped her throat with the other.

“I want you under me,” he said softly. “Is that okay?”

For some reason she felt tears come, she blinked, not wanting him to see her emotions boiling over. She moved to pull away, but his hand tightened.

His eyes narrowed. “I think I’ve been too nice to you lately,” he whispered. “You seem to think you run something around here. Perhaps you took my question at face value? Thought I was,” he laughed softly and slapped her face just a little too hard. “Perhaps you thought I was giving you a choice.”

Oh, thank God. This was what she wanted. Mindless play, deep, soul shaking fucking to get her mind of her weak twin and his endless lies. She wanted to be owned, controlled, forced to deal with a surfeit of pleasure in hopes that it would mute the pain of having her family so incredibly near, yet still feeling so horribly alone.

She wanted to beg Sam not to leave her. To promise to love her and take care of her forever, but she said nothing. She didn’t have to. This was enough, for now. So she just smirked, knowing it would antagonize him in the best way. That it would get him going before she did something foolish like tell him that she loved him.

She yanked out of his arms. She would have enjoyed the surprise on his face, but he recovered too quickly, yanking her back against him, right where she wanted to be of course, but she fought anyway, and fought hard so he’d know exactly how she wanted to play.

He subdued her easily, laughing while he did, and making her fight even harder, useless thought it was.

“Stop it,” he said, after awhile, shaking her lightly. “You’re gonna hurt yourself, and for what? You ain’t getting’ away until I let you go. And I don’t think I wanna be lonely tonight.” He pulled her close. So close she could barely breathe with his arms wrapped around her and their lips so close they could have shared a kiss.

He pushed her roughly away, then pulled her along behind him to the bedroom. Once there he tossed her on the bed.

“Take off your clothes.”

Instead she made a break for it, barely restraining a laugh when he tackled her back on the big bed, crawling heavily on top of her and sitting up, her hands on either side of her head, snug within his.

He clucked his tongue, head slowly shaking as he looked her over. “You don’t mind very well tonight.” He secured both of her hands in one of his and ran the other down the side of her face. He pried her lips open with a long finger and pulled her jaw open hard with his thumb. “Guess I should have let you blow me after all. Since you feel like playing rough, and all.”

He laughed barely pulling his fingers away when she tried to bite him.

“I guess you should have,” she said, voice hard and cold. “’Cause there’s no way you’re getting inside me now.”

He grinned slowly, so handsome for a second she completely forgot what they were doing, the game they were playing. She just stared at him, and he stared back. Perhaps he too got momentarily lost. Not in his beauty, but in the depth of emotion that stared back at him. He knew how much she needed this; even if he didn’t know why.

“I could fuck you all day, every day, forever,” he whispered, stirred by her need.

She felt those horrid tears well again, but she laughed to keep them at bay.

“How romantic,” she spat, yanking futilely against her bound hands.

He laughed again. “It is,” he crooned. “That pretty pink pussy wrapped around my dick. I could tunnel in and out, stroking and pounding until I feel better about your unruly behavior earlier. I could fuck you until you forget about fighting me. Until you arch that lovely white back for me, spread your legs like a whore and moan and cry out my name. You feel like crying, baby?”

She yelled, genuinely frustrated, not because he was still holding her tight but because he was only talking about doing what she wanted, and she felt empty. She needed to be filled.


“Your voice sounds strange,” he offered. “Thick like you might want to cry. And your eyes are big and wet like you have tears waiting to fall.” He leaned down to nuzzle her, running his nose from the hollow of her throat up the side of neck to her near, which he nipped until she jerked.

“I could give you something to cry about,” he offered. He grinned. “I like making pretty little girls named Laurel cry.”


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