Hello! It`s time for Tuesday Tales again. This week I`ll
be sharing an excerpt from my WIP (Work In Progress) Pink Pucks and Power Plays, an M/F sports romance, starring my
sassy curvaceous society page reporter, Viviana Land, and defenseman for the Philadelphia
Wildcats professional hockey team, Alain Lessard.
In today`s excerpt, Alain and Viviana have had a rather
fun-filled night of ‘more enjoyable things’ and we get to share the morning
after.
This week our word prompt is ‘Bite’. Since this is a
rough draft there may be some mistakes. I do apologize for any boo-boo you may
find.
Please do check out the other wonderful writers after
you`re done reading by clicking on the Tuesday Tales link at the bottom. Thanks
for stopping in!
Morning came far, far too
quickly. I hate waking up rudely. I much prefer lounging in my bed, stretching,
yawning, dozing, and if I am lucky, as I was this morning, feeling a buff young
athlete pressed tightly against my back, his morning arousal nestled between my
buttocks and his hand bouncing a large breast.
“Mmm,” I mewled when Alain
nudged me in the rump and gave my shoulder a playful bite, “I`d love to frolic but you have to let me freshen up. My
breath must be akin to a dragon`s.” I smiled at the lamp still burning despite
the sun brightening my boudoir.
“Go then, but do not be long, I
want to see you trembling beneath me again.”
See, if alarm clocks could say
that to a woman and then follow through, we gals would all jump up and begin
our ablutions. I shuddered decadently then squiggled away from him and his
stiff ass-poker. I did sneak a peek before I left for the bathroom. He was
stretched out across my bed gloriously nude, one leg bent, the other stretched out and one arm
resting on his chest. He looked sleepy but it was desire making him appear so
heavy-lidded. His manhood stood up straight and proud. I wet my lips as I drank
him in.
Then some asshole began pounding on my front door. Alain sat up
quickly, his languid expression slipping away. He hurried to cover his erection
with the covers while the rude person began shouting and hammering.
“What time is it?” Alain asked.
I grabbed my frilly summer robe and slid my arms into it. I picked the clock up
from the floor where it had fallen when someone - the well hung Quebecer in my bed -
knocked it when he was searching for his third condom of the night.
“It`s only nine,” I sneered,
glaring at the digital readout then slamming the clock back to the table.
“Tabarnac!” he hissed, throwing himself from my bed. “We were to be
at the rink at eight,” he growled tugging his jeans up over his ass. I felt
enormous disappointment when he tucked his prick into his black pants and
zipped. I was so looking forward to
another round of lovemaking. I sighed then stalked from my bedroom to
answer the door, knotting my sash as I went. Alain was frenzied behind me,
gathering his clothes and muttering a slew of French-Canadian expletives as he
tumbled along. I ripped the door open and stared up at Oscar.
“Must you make such a racket?!” I snarled. Oscar, looking distressed
beyond belief, pushed into my condo, his hands flying about as he spoke. A sure
sign he was wound-up.
“Your sister called me an hour
ago, all sorts of frantic when she couldn`t reach you! I called for over forty
minutes. Where is your cell phone, honey?” he snapped then instantly clamped
his mouth closed when Alain tripped into the room. “Oh, well, I see why you`re
running late,” Oscar said, his voice the lovely purr of a tom cat getting his
chin scratched. Alain lowered the foot he was trying to shove into a boot and
smiled sheepishly at the tall black man in matching caftan and turban of rich
gold and red.
“My cell is in my purse which
is . . . well, it`s somewhere,” I
muttered, closing the door gently.
“Well, yes,” Oscar folded his
arms over his chest, "perhaps you should find that purse and call Violet before
she has the CSI team over here? Hello, my name is Oscar LaRue Tiffany and I am
Viviana`s dearest friend and confidante,” he held out his hand for Alain. I
think the poor man didn`t know if he should shake or kiss those well-manicured
dark fingers. Alain went for the shake. “Funny, she never told me she had such
major snackage visiting.”
“Okay, enough, you`re making him
blush,” I chided, grabbing my friend`s elbow and leading him into the kitchen.
Oscar took one long loving look then jerked his bald head back into the
kitchen.
“That is a gorgeous man! Is that the hockey player?” he whispered as I tossed
pots and pans around. I nodded. Oscar padded over to the coffeemaker, pushed it
back to its spot and then turned the machine on. “Is him shagging your carpet
going to be part of the expose?”
“Shut up!” I hissed, rattling a
frying pan loudly.
“Whatever,” my buddy waved a
long-fingered hand in the air, “But you know sleeping with a story is always a
recipe for disaster.”
“What is a recipe for disaster?”
Alain asked, walking into the kitchen buttoning his shirt. His hair still
looked like a wild woman had been trying to yank it out by its roots all night,
but aside from that and needing a shave badly, he was simply mouthwatering.
“Me frying eggs,” I quickly
smiled. Oscar grinned like a dodo then stared at his red slipper while Alain
gathered me up for a kiss. I gave my lusty Quebecer my cheek. “Still dragon
breath,” I whispered, running my hand over his scruffy cheek. “I`ll be there in
an hour.”
“That will work,” he placed a
soft kiss just under my ear, whispered something so dirty I almost dropped my
griddle, and then left with a wave to Oscar. I stared at the doorway until I
heard the front door shut.
“Viviana, are you sure sleeping
with him is good? You know how you
are when a take a man to your bed,” Oscar warned, tapping his chin with a
fingernail of scarlet. “You get all emotionally involved and before you know
it, you`re choosing china patterns.”
I placed the pan to the range
top as cool as a garden cucumber. “I need a shower,” I proclaimed, exited and
grabbed my purse so I could call Violet before the forensic team showed up.
*~*~*
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See you next week for from Viviana and Alain
