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