Saturday, June 13, 2015

My Sexy Saturday

This week's theme is all about the good ole boys doing what they do best.

      In Carnal Innocence, Nate, a private investigator, is unprepared for cyclone Callie sideswiping his emotions and his life. A meet and greet at his BDSM club  morphs into protective duty with the assassination of his old team mate.
      Callie, an innocent raised in a Think Tank superstructure, is freed by the man intending to marry and train her as his submissive. Her genius is sought by radicals and terrorists alike.

 Carnal Innocence  - To be released soon
 The following instant, the force of her impact and the tangle of long limbs with his own ensured balance and grace would devolve into a klutzy and painful plummet to the hardwood floor.
Instead of wind milling to restore his equilibrium, he reached for the shapely torso intent on laying him low. A heavy mass of blonde, wavy hair disguised the curve of her waist as his grip tightened, trying to keep them both vertical. Unable to do that, instinct bound him to twist their positions and take the brunt of the fall. He drew her body snug against his own.
As if in slow motion, instead of gravity pulling them toward the floor, some inexplicable force drew them vertical. It was a split-second in time, barely enough for his mind to register, yet he stood straight once again. Firm, feminine curves alerted every cell in his being to attention. A deep breath—a unique blend of spice and mystery prevented further speculation as to her identity.
Thick tresses covered her face and failed to find any semblance of order. He could only guess at her features. Even so, the locks held him in thrall as they brushed against the back of his hands still holding her tight.
Soft and lustrous, they blunted his confusion over standing upright again. Nothing could’ve stopped him from bringing the satiny mane to his face. One whiff, a bouquet of exotic spices came to mind. Dear God. WTF?
Though she now stood directly in front of him, he still couldn’t discern her features. With great reluctance, he released the firm, small waist under his grip in anticipation of what he’d find under the wild mass of wavy mane.
For reasons unknown, reverence stayed his hand. In that twinkling of time, in this reality, nothing could match his imagination. He couldn’t bring himself to spoil the moment with anything less than perfection.
She must have felt it too. In raising her hand, it stopped midair, frozen, not spoiling the moment of faultless purity.

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