Romancing The Pen
“I feel that I should at least tell you.” Again, I swept my fingers across her cheek. “That something’s been happening to me, each time we’ve been together. I don’t know what it is, but my writing has gotten back on track.”
Kate’s grin was contagious.
“So, keep that in mind,” I told her, my tone turning a little more serious.
She seemed to catch on that I had meant what I said. Blushing, she ran her hand through her hair, then scooted herself closer to me.
I reached out and pulled her the rest of the way. We lay there facing one another on the bed, staring at one another with our hands laced between us.
“You’re my muse,” I whispered.
Another blush formed on her cheeks and I realized I loved when she did that.
“But I haven’t even done anything,” she said. “And I don’t even know what you write exactly. Don’t you think you should tell me some of it, if I’m supposed to help you through things?”
I shook my head and closed my eyes.
My senses picked up on the warmth of Kate. Lips brushed my cheeks and trailed their way slowly up to my eyelids. The feeling tickled me, but I didn’t laugh. Kate’s lips found my mouth and she kissed me deeply. Though I wasn’t sure if she really was looking for an answer to her question, I didn’t want to answer.
Instead of speaking, I grabbed her hips and pulled her tight against my body to let her feel every inch of me. Kate moaned into my mouth and I took her cry down into my throat.
Not breaking the kiss, I turned us so that she straddled me on top again. Beneath her warm legs I could feel my cock sliding against her entrance. She was warm and wet and, fuck, we needed to be together.
“What were you writing last night?” she asked.
I almost didn’t hear her. I was so distracted with kissing the breath out of her body. Kate’s small hand wrapped itself around me and my eyes flew open. She began to stroke.
“Fuck.” I groaned.
She smiled against my mouth. “I thought you might be writing about that.”
I grinned. “You really want me tell you about what I was writing?”
Kate sat up, giving me one hell of a few. Her nipples were stiff and my mouth was craving to taste them. She lifted her hips and aligned herself with my cock, sliding just the tip of me past her folds.
My eyes threatened to roll back into my head, but I forced them to stay open and watch. I braced my hands on Kate’s hips, trying to ease her farther down, but she resisted.
I gave her a questioning look.
“Tell me what you were writing about,” she said, arching one brow and smiling.
I played along. “Are you sure you want to play this game?”
“Oh, yes, I’m sure I do,” Kate replied. She eased herself down a half inch. Her wetness was reason enough for me to speak.
“The second love scene,” I started.
She eased down another half inch, then stopped again.
I shut my eyes and nodded. “Okay, okay. The second love scene–”
“We’ve established that there is another love scene already,” Kate cut in, lifting herself back up that half inch that had made me want to pound into her. I was determined to get that inch back, and more.
My fingers gripped her firmly, eliciting another moan from her.
“It begins with the hero and heroine having been away from each other for a little more than a month. He had to leave the country on business, trying to fix his family problems that have been plaguing him throughout the story.”
Kate began to slide down my cock, fueling me to talk more.
“The hero was wounded by the antagonist during a prior scene, and when he returns back to the heroine, he’s still recovering from the wound. She’s worried about him and tends to him at his bedside for days.”
Kate was halfway down my length by the time I stopped. Our eyes met and she parted her lips, her breath coming quicker. She bit her lower lip, adjusting to my girth. I wanted more than anything to thrust up and claim her, but I was afraid she wouldn’t allow me. After all, I wasn’t in charge of this coupling. Kate was.
“Continue,” she said.
Since she hadn’t said anything about me touching her, I reached up to her breasts, running my palms across her nipples. The only word I could use to describe how they felt was aching. Yes, Kate’s aching nipples were in my hands. I really was a romance writer, on and off paper. I chuckled in my head.
Without another thought, I wrapped one arm around her waist and flipped us over, pinning her under me. I continued massaging her breast tenderly.