Squeeze a lemon and mix it with honey...

Happy birthday, Lady Fire ( @firethatgrewsolow )! 🔥❤

A little pressie from your fellow Gilmour girl...

Enjoy ❤

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Feeling the cool air caress her skin, she's glad she'd thrown on a shawl before taking a walk.

It's been fun exploring different paths every night, and tonight's path has taken her down to the river.

She's gathered quite the bouquet of wildflowers by the time she happens upon a very large river boat, moored by the edge of a quiet meadow.

Sitting down in the grass, she admires how the rich golden tones of the boat's wood panelling perfectly compliments the green that frames the windows. The wrought iron railings and marquee surrounding the upper deck makes her dream of lavish parties with chilled rosé and soft music, guests dressed in flowing summer dresses and soft linen suits.

She's so lost in thought that she fails to notice the handsome older man who's walked up behind her. Only when he gently clears his throat is she pulled out of her reverie.

Startled, she looks up into a pair of deep, blue eyes.

He squats down next to her;

"Beautiful, isn't she?"

"Gorgeous. I was just imagining what she must be like with the lights on, a party in full swing, on a late summer night like this."

He eyes her before asking,

"Would you like to see inside?"

"I'd love to, but I don't think it's open at the moment."

He gives a wry smile:

"Well, it just so happens, I have the magic key..."

In her mind she thinks 'I bet you have...', but manages to - hopefully - school her features into polite surprise, and what actually comes out is:

"You do? Do you work on board?"

His soft chuckle makes his eyes dance as he says:

"You could say that."

She must look confused because he adds:

"She's mine; a combined cottage and recording studio, if you will."

With a raised eyebrow she replies:

"All the easier to mix business with pleasure, huh?"

The words are out of her mouth before she can stop them. Oh, god! She can feel her cheeks burn as she blushes. He doesn't seem to mind her comment, however, quite the opposite, in fact. His eyes crinkle with mirth as he nods,

"You know what the say about 'all work and no play'..."

Standing up, he holds out a hand;

"Shall we?"

It may be madness, but there is a magnetic pull between them that makes her throw caution to the wind and allow him to escort her on board.

He gives her a tour and the exterior details of the boat are even more beautiful up close while the eclectic decor inside tells tales of travels across the world.

Her body tingles as he once again takes her hand, leading her to the upper deck.

Effortlessly opening a bottle, he pours them each a glass of wine.

The first sip feels positively decadent, rich, full bodied, everything one could want a red wine to be.

He's quietly observing her, and she wonders what he's thinking.

Taking another sip of the exquisite wine, she asks:

"What?"

"Did it live up your expectations?", he asks, gesturing around.

"It surpassed them," she narrows her eyes playfully, "but I'm fairly certain you knew it would."

His voice has lowered to a rumble as he leans in and whispers in her ear:

"I always aim to please."

His voice reverberates through her whole body, a cavalcade of erotic scenarios flash before her eyes making her core clench with need.

Unable to stop a quiet moan from escaping, she slowly opens her eyes - when did she close them? - only to find him looking at her with such raw desire it takes her breath away.

It's now or never. Seizing the moment, she leans closer and breathes: "Tell me to stop."

Rather than answering, his lips crash down on hers; just as soft as she'd imagined, coaxing her lips open to his.

Strong arms close around her back and she feels herself go boneless as their kiss deepens.

His lips leave hers far too soon, and she's ready to protest, when he leads her below deck.

Her dress and shawl are left in their wake as they pass through the cabins, and when they reach the large bed at the aft, he helps her slide out of her now soaked knickers.

The bed yields underneath her as she lays back, watching him, quivering with desire as his eyes devour her.

Finding his desire mirrored in her eyes, he kneels on a Moroccan pouf and pulls her to the edge of the bed.

Calloused fingers caress her, slowly making their way towards the apex of her thighs as his lips follow their path - kissing, licking, the occasional nip of his teeth - and just when she thinks she can no longer stand the wait, his full lips find her core.

The teasing, the anticipation and her burning desire for him create a burst of pleasure when his tongue finally makes contact.

He taunts her, flicks around and around her most sensitive point, never quite giving her what she wants.

His short, three-day scruff rasps and tickles her in a way that sends her senses onto overdrive.

Her eyes close and she nearly sobs as he continues to lick and kiss her everywhere except where she desires the most.

Desperate with need, she raises her hips while sliding her fingers into his short, white hair, trying to steer his mouth closer.

She feels him laugh softly into her, the vibrations nearly sending her over the edge.

Then... No! No, no, no, no! He pulls away from her, and she whines at the loss of contact.

"Look at me."

Her eyes shoot open and find his.

"What do you need?"

Despite the situation, she finds herself blushing at being asked so directly.

After a few false starts - "Go on, use your words" (cheeky!) - she finally manages to find her voice:

"Make me come. Please. Oh, please make me come."

The grin that spreads across his face is the sexiest sight she's ever seen.

She can't hold back a whimper when, with a whispered "Good girl", he finally dives back in.

This time there's no more teasing, no more beating around the bush (no pun intended), he finds her most sensitive spot and his tongue plays her like a finely tuned guitar.

Over and over he plays the most intrcate solos with his tongue, every so often detouring further down to drink of the nectar that now flows freely from her wellspring.

The sensation builds, fire spreading through her whole body, and just when she thinks she'll be consumed by it, his full lips close around her pearl, sucking it into his mouth while his very skilled tongue massages her.

A (belated) birthday present for my wonderful friend, beta, soundingboard and fellow Gilmour girl, @firethatgrewsolow. I love you, lady! ❤❤❤

Inspired by this performance:

***************************************

Standing backstage at the large amphitheatre in Pompeii, she can feel the magic permeating the air.

As the keyboards fold out a gossamer blanket of music over the audience, the anticipation builds, builds, builds to the moment when he will take centre stage.

And then...

There.

That first note. Crystal clear. It pierces the darkness and sends a chill up and down her spine.

He's magical; the way he makes his guitar sing and speak, straight from his soul to hers.

She relaxes and tenses up all at once as he plays. His playing always calms her, but the promise of what's to come brings with it a delicious tension.

There they are; those iconic four notes, reverberating all around the ancient walls again and again. Seeing him hold the crowd enthralled like this, not by ostentatious bravado, not by strutting around the stage like a peacock, but with sheer, unadorned talent, is incredibly erotic.

Her whole body tingles. From the magnitude of the performance, yes, but also the anticipation of what the night will bring.

She gets lost in the music, lets it envelop her, and before she knows it he has taken his last bow, his last note of the evening faded into the night, and he's walking straight towards her. Her stomach fills with butterflies as his large hands cup her cheeks, their eyes meet for a brief moment before his lips find hers and the world disappears around them.

Floating through the night, they somehow find their way into a waiting car, into their hotel and to their room.

When the door closes behind them, they briefly break apart. Lightheaded she leans against the door, trying to catch her breath. He smiles at her, the laughter lines around his blue eyes deepening, making him even more beautiful. There's a playfulness in those eyes, a look that creates a visceral need within her to be back in his arms.

She reaches out and grasps the hem of his black T-shirt, pulling him closer. Sliding it up and off him. His beautiful, tanned skin – warm and inviting – calls to her. Leaning in, she takes a playful nip at his left nipple, feeling, more than hearing, the resulting groan that rumbles deep in his chest.

His hand slides up her back before he pulls one of the straps that hold her dress together; the feeling as the soft fabric slides over her sensitive skin makes her shiver.

He chuckles as he lifts her up in his arms.

His lips once more on hers, he carries her to the large waiting bed.

It's one of the most erotic feelings in the world, being laid out like this for him; seeing what her nearly naked body does to him. His eyes are almost black with lust as he bends over her and takes one of her nipples between his full lips. The slight pull combined with the tickling from his scruffy three-day beard makes her whimper. The feeling shoots straight to her core and her hips move of their own volition, trying to find something, anything, to bring her some relief. Another whimper escapes her as he brings a hand up to her other peak, pinching and kneading it.

She mewls softly, the feeling almost too much; she's already teetering on the edge of that delicious precipice when his mouth begins to move further south.

It feels like her whole body's on fire; his sightly rasping kisses only fanning the flame. He takes his time, worshipping every inch of her body. When he finally pulls down her soaked knickers, he looks like a starving man presented with a most delicious five-course meal.

She reaches out to him, and, eyes wide with desire, he bends down and takes his first taste. Her hips buck off the bed; his soft, firm tongue plays her with the same skill and devotion he plays his guitar.

He laps at her, tickling her sensitive nub with he tip of his tongue, drinking her flowing nectar, relishing her like a fine wine.

"Aaahhhhhh!"

His lips fasten around her oversensitive pearl, sucking it, massaging it, his scruffy beard adding a sensory dimension that makes her see stars. She feels him smile around her, but he doesn't let up. He knows her body by heart, knows exactly where to lick, swipe, tickle to make her feel at once taut like a bow string and completely boneless.

He briefly eases off as she comes down from her first climax but soon his tongue and lips are massaging her with the same intensity once more. She barely registers it when he slides in first one finger, then another, stretching her insides, preparing her for what will soon come. The feeling is almost too much, her toes curl up tightly as she falls over the edge, and only when she pushes firmly on his shoulders does he let up.

Her vision's blurry, but as he slowly comes back into focus, she can see his eyes are filled with raw desire.

"Please, I need you now," she pleads, and it's just what he needs to hear.

The last barriers of clothing between them removed, he climbs back into bed, her legs open to him, welcoming him in. Their eyes focus solely on each other, a silent question asked and answered before he finally sinks home. And that's exactly how it feels: "Home". They belong together. He sinks into her, and it feels like a temporarily missing piece of her is restored.

He fills her perfectly, stretches her, opens her up. His strong forearms framing her head as he slowly pumps in and out. She loves this, the slow build, their own dance, perfectly in sync.

She clenches around him playfully. He moans and begins to speed up. A small shift to his angle, a movement that seems designed to render her speechless, and her deep moan lets him know he's hitting that spot within her.

His thrusts have more force behind them now, and the gentle itch that's been spreading through her body turns into a raging wildfire as the pleasure overtakes her. He feels it, too, and their eyes meet once more before his lips crash down to hers. With a final, deep thrust she falls into oblivion and he follows close behind, buried deep inside her.

Rules: post the first sentence of your last ten fics. If you haven't written ten fics, share as many first-sentences as you have.

A dark, smoke-filled café.

The gentle ocean breeze makes the candles flicker as the sun sets over the Greek island of Hydra.

He seduced with his words, his prose, his poetry and, ultimately, with his voice.

It was swelteringly hot and humid in San Diego as they took the stage.

Eight o’clock on the dot the doorbell goes.

The conversation and laughter was flowing freely around the table.

“Urgh!! BOLLOCKS!!”

“I don’t care what you say! Red wine is not dinner.”

“Happy Birthday!”

– Where the fuck are my trousers?!!

I'm still quite frozen at the news, my body hasn't quite caught up to my brain yet, it seems, but I thought it fitting to post one of the very first fics I ever wrote, it was inspired by this gorgeous and talented man.

Concert

She was very excited to finally see him play live...

**************************************

The room rang with applause as H— O— finished playing their final song.

She'd really enjoyed the concert and as she applauded she locked eyes with E— again. E— was the gorgeous guitar player of H— O—, with full, dark blond hair, the most gorgeous smile you could possibly imagine, and the reason she'd travelled two hours to see them in concert.

She was thrilled to finally see him live. She'd been early enough to get a good seat in front and had been thrilled when E— had stood almost right in front of her as they played. The first time they'd locked eyes were during a rather cheeky song he'd written; one of the other guys had the vocals on it, but she'd been unable to take her eyes off E—. He'd looked over at her, held her gaze for a few seconds and then winked discreetly at her while giving her a small smile.

Later they'd played a lovely ballad and he'd looked deep into her eyes during most of it.

Near the end he'd played a fantastic guitar boogie, parts of it with the guitar behind his head, which left her flushed and breathing heavily. There was nothing sexier in this world than E— playing guitar boogie, and now he was looking straight at her again with those beautiful blue eyes as they took their bows.

This is a birthday present for my wonderful friend, beta, soundingboard and fellow Gilmour girl, @firethatgrewsolow. I love you, lady! ❤❤❤

************************************

A dark, smoke-filled café.

She's sitting at a table with a glass of full-bodied red wine, enjoying the effect it has on her, the warmth it seems to spread all through her body.

She'd only half-listened to the trio that's just left the stage, treated it more like background music as she wrote the outline of her next literary endeavour.

The slightly older man in the black T-shirt, who's just taken the stage, hasn't really registered, but as he begins to play, something happens to her; any thoughts of her writing fall temporarily by the wayside, all she can focus on is him.

His playing speaks to her. It feels incredibly intimate, as if his soul is speaking to hers.

She can't take her eyes off him.

His face with a white three-day beard and beautiful blue eyes which he periodically close as he plays; those hands, with the fingers that can coax notes at once haunting and sweet out of his guitar; the effortless way he bends the strings to his will.

She's not sure when she let her eyes slide shut, but as she opens them, they meet his. He must've been looking at her, but where that would normally make her blush or she'd take it as a playful challenge, with him it's the most natural thing in the world. It feels right. Neither break the connection until he closes his eyes at a particularly emotional part of a solo.

Her toes curl as he plays a drawn out high note, her heart starting to race.

Their connection grows deeper as he plays on; their eyes always finding each other, seeking each other out, at times devouring each other.

When he plays his last song, she's scared this magical connection will be lost forever.

The final note fades away. She applauds along with everyone else, but looks away, eyes focusing on the table, trying to retain all she can of the magical half hour they've shared.

Someone softly clears their throat next to her table and she looks up. There he is. A silent question in those beautiful eyes as he holds a hand out to her. With a smile she takes it and lets him lead her out into the warm summer night.

A cool breeze caress them as they walk through the city, hands clasped. To the people who pass by, they look just like any other couple in love, on their way home. And maybe that's just what they are.

When the door closes behind them, he turns to her and reverently tucks a strand of hair behind her left ear before leaning in. And then finally, finally his lips meet hers. They're full, soft and warm, but the kiss is brief, and as he starts to pull back, she grabs the front of his T-shirt and brings him back to her.

Her mouth opens to him, their tongues meet in a sensual dance, and an invisible barrier is broken, desire coursing through them both.

Soon he's lifted her up in his arms, carrying her to the large, waiting bed.

When he places her on the bed, a shiver runs through her as her body, now nearly feverish with desire, meets the cool sheets.

Sitting up, never taking her eyes from his, she unties the halterneck of her backless dress. The look he gives her as she lets it fall to her waist makes her feel like the most desirable woman in the world.

He looks down at her half-removed dress and back up to meet her eyes. His "may I?" is met with a smile and a nod. She lifts her hips allowing him to slide the dress and her knickers the rest of the way off.

Normally, being on display like this, completely naked, can make her feel a little bashful, but the way his eyes worship her makes any shyness disappear.

Lifting her left leg, he presses a soft kiss to her ankle, then slowly another, and another, and another, inching his way up. This man is at once the most sensual and most frustrating one she's ever met, teasing her as he takes his sweet time kissing his way ever nearer the apex of her thighs. Her breathing quickens, blood rushing in her ears as his toungue finally takes its first experimental swipe. It feels like a delicious reprieve and the sound she lets out is somewhere between a yelp and a moan. She can feel him smile against her sensitive skin but it barely registers because he now puts his talented tongue to use in earnest.

It feels like heaven. Pure, unadulterated heaven. His tongue explores her, drinking from her ever flowing well, caressing her, before finally sliding over her sensitive bundle of nerves; now in a zigzag pattern, now in broad strokes.

When he slides first one, then two of those talented fingers into her waiting heat, easily finding *that* spot, she's well on her way to Nirvana, and when he fastens his lips around her nub, steadily massaging her both inside and out, she sees stars.

The combined sensation of his fingers, his tongue and his three-day scruff tickling her is her undoing. Her world explodes into a million pieces as her hips buck uncontrollably and her moans turn into half-sobs as the pleasure becomes too much.

His mouth doesn't leave her until she pushes at his head with a nearly incoherent "Please. No more. Please."

With a final lick he releases her with a soft chuckle at her euphoric little laugh as she tries to string together a coherent sentence.

He pulls off his black T-shirt and she momentarily laments the loss of his weight on the bed as he stands to remove his trousers.

He's magnificent, seeing him in all his glory makes her inner walls clench, and she feels a couple of droplets slide out of her in anticipation.

Her arms reach out to him of their own volition, and he readily obliges her. The dip of the matress as he joins her once more, his lips that find first one nipple then the other, teasing them, tickling them with just the point of his tongue, all build the tension until at last he's there between her legs, his strong arms framing her head.

She wants him desperately, but he hesitates, holds back, asking that final, silent question.

Her voice is breathy as she says "Please. Please, now." That's all he needs before he slides home. And that's just what it feels like; home. Having him buried deep within her feels like coming home.

Then he begins to move. Slow, deliberate strokes, caressing her insides. Soon he finds *that* point inside her once more, and the deep pleasure it elicits sends shivers all through her body, her eyes widening.

The small laugh he gives is part amusement at her reaction and part arousal. Their eyes lock once more as he makes sure to hit that point with every languid, deep stroke.

Her walls massage him as they both move closer and closer to that delicious precipice, and just as they're about to fall, his lips find hers and they fuse together in a searing kiss until, with a deep groan from him and a series of moans from her, they fall together.

Her arms cling to his broad shoulders, and his weight on top of her seems to centre her world.

As they come back to Earth, their eyes meet again, and he breaks into a smile that makes his eyes light up.

For my wonderful friend, beta and fellow Gilmour Girl. Happy birthday, dear @firethatgrewsolow!! I love you, girl! ❤🎉🎉❤

****************************************

The gentle ocean breeze makes the candles flicker as the sun sets over the Greek island of Hydra. It had been a beautiful day; sunny and warm.

She’d spent the whole day on the terrace, under the cobalt blue parasol, working on her latest novel.

There was something about the island that inspired her. Maybe it was the old houses; maybe the locals who were always ready with a smile and a story or two about their lives; or maybe it was the man currently sitting next to her...

His short, white hair and three-day scruff shining in contrast to his deep tan. She would never get tired of looking at him; her partner, her sounding board, her muse. Her lover.

She closes her eyes and leans back in her chair, breathing in the ocean air, and letting the sound of him softly plucking out a tune on the guitar wash over her. Whenever he plays, he stirs something deep inside her. She feels his playing wind its way around her heart and tug at her heart strings, every note making her fall deeper in love.

Opening her eyes slowly, she finds him observing her as he plays. A smile dances on those full lips, and for the nth time she feels her heart skip a beat.

They sit, quietly taking each other in as he plays a tune at once familiar and new.

The sip she takes of her red wine spreads a warmth all through her, relaxing her further and making her feel sensual. He can see the fire that starts to smoulder in her eyes and feels his body respond. With a final, drawn out note he puts the guitar down and stands up, holding a hand out to her. Taking it, she lets him lead her to their bedroom.

His lips, soft and full, caress her neck as he stands behind her and slides first the left, then the right strap of her white cotton dress off her shoulders.

Leaning back against him, she lets out a soft moan, the feel of his calloused fingertips dancing over her skin making her shiver.

His hands follow the path of her dress as it slips off her, caressing her breasts, playing with her hard nipples before pinching them, making her gasp as her knees almost buckle.

She needs him. Now. Turning around, she looks up into his deep blue eyes and pulls his mouth down to meet hers. His lips are warm, and when their tongues meet she can tast the retsina he’s been drinking.

His chest feels warm under her hands as she unbuttons his shirt, sliding it off his shoulders. Before she can reach for his trousers, however, he stops her, and with a smile pushes her back onto the bed. She bounces a little and quickly slides back towards the headboard as he climbs over her, a playful gleam in his eye.

His hands slide up her thighs, but when they reach her knickers he stops, a silent question in his eyes. She breathes out a “please”, and he pulls them down before sliding an experimental finger into her waiting heat.

The loud moan she’s unable to stop makes him chuckle, before bowing his head to take his first taste. The feeling of his tongue sliding over her most intimate parts makes her see stars. A few flicks across her sensitive nub, followed by a taste of her flowing juices, before he fastens his lips around her pearl, massaging it with his very talented tongue.

Her hips move in time with his ministrations, and her hands clutch the cool sheets as ripples of pleasure build towards a crecendo.

He can sense her getting close, and suddenly stops. Her eyes fly open, but before she can protest, he begins tickling her hypersensitive clit with the tip of his tongue. The sensation, at once maddening and pure heaven, making a slow, deep wildfire spread through her.

Just as she thinks she can stand it no longer, he slides a second finger inside her and finds that magical spot. The combined sensations makes her world explode in an orgasm that radiates through her whole body.

As she slowly comes back down to Earth, she reaches for him, the only words she manages are “Need you. Now.”

The loss of his weight on the bed as he stands to remove his trousers make her momentarily wistful, but her mind is soon distracted at the sight of him as he stands there in all his glory. She will never tire of that sight, he’s beautiful, and the knowledge that he’s all hers makes a dewy drop slide out of her in anticipation.

Her hands reach out for him, and he happily obliges, moving over her as her legs open to welcome him in.

They both crave more, to be joined, but just before he slides home he stills. Her eyes find his, and, seeing another silent question in them, she nods, “Please, David”. And then, finally, he’s there, his length sliding into her, filling her. He lets her adjust to him before slowly beginning to pump in and out. Each stroke filling her completely.

She can never get enough of this feeling, of being completely his, body and soul and knowing he is hers.

She wants him closer, needs him closer, her legs sliding around him, pulling him to her.

The slight change in angle makes him hit just the right spot with every stroke.

Her sharp intake of breath makes him smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners as they meet hers. He knows exactly what he’s doing to her, feels her walls begin to contract around him, and it leads him ever closer to his own precipice. His eyes slide shut in concentration and he feels her breath hitch as his thumb finds her swollen clit.

Soon she’s once again exploding around him, crying out in delicious abandon, her arms flying to his broad shoulders, clutching him closer to her.

Their lips mould together, and with one final stroke he comes deep inside her.

Reluctant to move, to break the spell, they stay entwined.

This story came to me just as I was about to fall asleep. I had to quickly grab my phone and it just poured out of me in one go.

As always, my never-ending gratitude goes to my beta and sounding-board, @firethatgrewsolow. Thank you for Fire-proofing my stories before I publish them. You make me a better writer.

Inspired by an author with a voice that stirs something in me...

*************************************************

He seduced with his words, his prose, his poetry and, ultimately, with his voice.

His voice; soft and steady but with a slight hint of something else. Something sensual. Something erotic.

His stories were beautiful, they made her smile, they made her laugh, they made her cry.

But they could also light a fire in her, a slow burning fire, one she didn’t notice until it was too late.

A glass of red wine and then another, they were getting closer and closer there in the dark corner of the room. Their voices close to whispers as they spoke of life and its mundanities. His soft voice, with the deep timbre, close to her ear as he gave her the most erotic proposition she’d ever received.

Her hand never quite in his as they left the party; they kept dancing around the first touch, both instinctively wanting to keep the delicious tension until they could fully give in.

Through the door, down the hall, the large bed calling to them.

“Undress for me.”

Three simple words and her body was aflame.

Sliding off her dress she stood naked before him.

“Talk to me.”

Her request was simple.

“See what your voice and your words do to me.”

She took his hand and brought it to the waiting heat between her legs.

And he talked.

He told her things she never knew about herself, he told her about desires she had long forgotten, desires she’d tried to repress, and about desires she had yet to discover.

He talked between kisses as he worshipped her body. He traced words across her most intimate parts. He talked as he slid inside her, his voice fuelling her arousal as he pumped in and out.

This was written as a (very belated) birthday present for my wonderful friend, beta, soundingboard and fellow Gilmour girl, @firethatgrewsolow. I love you, lady! ❤❤❤

************************************************

Eight o’clock on the dot the doorbell goes.

Heart hammering, she opens the door only to be left breathless. He’s wearing a black linen suit with a crisp, white shirt, and she can’t help letting her gaze linger over the skin exposed by the loosened top buttons.

His eyes meet hers, crinkling in a smile as he hands her a bottle of Rioja and a deep-red rose.

“It’s beautiful, thank you,”

She returns his smile and beckons him inside,

“What do you say we have a glass of this before going out to dinner?”

“Perfect.”

Closing the door, he follows her upstairs. The sun is just setting and as she grabs two glasses and a corkscrew, she points him in the direction of the terrace.

He looks beautiful, silhouetted against the deep blue tones of the evening sky.

When he turns to her, his smile radiates such an air of calm kindness, but there’s also a hint of something more, something primal, just noticeable as he purses his lips and looks her over from head to foot, eyes dancing.

Opening the bottle, she pours them each a glass and joins him at the railing, clinking her glass to his,

“Cheers”

“Cheers”

She smiles as she takes the first sip, warmth spreading through her body, making her feel ever so slightly light-headed; the wine and the man standing next to her is a heady combination.

Another sip and she feels herself begin to relax. The cool evening breeze makes her shiver and he takes off his jacket, draping it over her shoulders. It’s warm, soft and smells like him, and the quiet domesticity of his gesture sends tiny tingles up her spine.

“Thank you.”

The sound of the ocean softly lapping against the sand accompanies their conversation, the wine relaxing them both. It’s a dance; the conversation about everything and nothing, the quick glances that slowly start to linger. Their eyes meet during a silence, he smiles, and this time neither looks away.

Gently plucking the wine glass from her hand, he sets it down beside them, and suddenly, his soft, full lips are on hers.

The kiss lasts only a moment before she can feel him begin to pull back. Grabbing the front of his shirt, she pulls him back in. His hand slips into her hair and she melts against him.

There’s no urgency to their kiss, both merely relishing the feeling of being in the moment. Close. Lips moving together.

His tongue slips along the seam of her lips and she welcomes him in, their tongues entwining in an erotic dance.

He awakens deep fires in her, the likes of which she’s never known, her whole body humming with their electric attraction.

Her mewled protest as his lips leave hers is quickly silenced when he picks her up and places her on the nearby sun-lounger.

Her arms instinctively reach up towards him but he just gives a soft chuckle and begins removing first one of her shoes, then the other. Sliding his strong hand over her calf, pushing her dress towards her thigh, he kisses her right ankle before slowly moving up her leg.

Each kiss moves closer to her now soaked core, his three-day scruff teasing her with promises of the sensations it will bring further north.

He’s nearly reached his goal when he stops. Her eyes fly to his and she can see his silent question.

“Yes. Please.”

That’s all he needs. Sliding her knickers down, he takes his first, experimental taste.

“Mmmm... delicious,” his voice laced with desire, “even better than I could imagine.”

He takes a second swipe and then her world explodes as he devours her.

“Oh, God!”

She’s never experienced anything like this; his extremely skilled mouth combined with the tickle of his stubble has her whimpering, her hands sliding over his short, white hair.

Those large, soft lips fasten around her clit and she comes hard, head thrown back in wild abandon. His strong arms hold her in place, and as she comes down from her high, she realises he’s not letting up.

His tongue keeps languidly massaging her now very sensitive nub as he slides a finger inside her soft heat. She feels him smile as her muscles clench around him, sucking him in.

He’s in no hurry, however; her first orgasm over, he’s planning to take his time with her. Adding a second finger, he strokes in and out, a steady rhythm, his large digits stretching her deliciously.

‘Oh, God! If just his *fingers* feel this good...’

Her mind wanders, letting her imagine what’s to come.

The teasing is seemingly endless; in, out, in, out, an occasional harder suck, never speeding up, relentlessly slow and steady, and it’s threatening to send her round the twist!

“Oh, Go-o-o--!”

Her sudden reaction tells him his fingers have found the spot inside her that can make her see stars, and he begins to massage it in earnest as his tongue intensifies its massage.

This man is magic! Pure magic!

She’s never felt like this before, her whole body shakes as the second orgasm roars through her, leaving her completely boneless.

With a final, soft kiss on her pearl, he slides his fingers out before bringing them to his lips.

She hadn’t realised she’d closed her eyes until she feels him take her hand in his. When she meets his eyes, she sees a need in them that makes her body ache.

He pulls her to her slightly shaky legs and guides her to the large bed that beckons to them just beyond the terrace door.

Slipping the dress off her shoulders, letting it pool at her feet, she revels in the naked desire in his eyes. His voice slightly breathy as he tells her she looks divine.

The cool linens against her burning skin makes her shiver, her nipples straining towards him. There’s something deeply erotic about being on display like this, completely bare, while he’s still fully clad.

Leaning up on her elbows she watches as he slowly unbuttons his shirt – revealing ever more tantalising glimpses of the beautiful, broad chest underneath – until, finally, he slides it off. His trousers are the next to go, until he’s standing before her in all his glory.

Her heart skips a beat and she can feel a dewy drop slide out of her as she opens her legs to welcome him in. His eyes have turned a deep sapphire with desire but as he climbs over her, he stills between her legs. His silent question asked and answered before he slides his hard length against her, teasing her, making her moan with each pass across her still hyper-sensitive clit.

His sudden kiss is all-consuming as he finally slides deep inside her. The feeling of being filled so completely brings her world to a momentary stop.

His strong arms frame her head, eyes locked with hers as he slowly pumps in and out of her.

This man is an aphrodisiac, a drug; delicious, heady, addictive. The more he gives her, the more she craves, each stroke making her burn hotter.

Every time he sinks home it feels as if a piece of her soul she never knew was missing is restored.

“Tell me what you need.” His voice breaks through her trance.

“You. I need you. All of you.”

Desperate to feel him closer, her arms slide over his broad shoulders, her legs locking around his waist, pulling his strong body flush against her.

His lips find her neck just as a slight change in his angle means he’s now hitting THAT spot with every stroke.

“Oh, God! Oh, GOD!!”

That sweet itch, like a deep wildfire, spreads from her toes all through her body, making her feel as if she’ll burst into flames any second.

His beautiful eyes are closed in concentration as he fills her over and over, and when she can no longer hold back, she pulls his warm, full lips to hers. Their lips meet, and she explodes around him. Their kisses are frenzied and she swallows his deep groan as she feels him come deep inside her.

Completely spent, heart racing, she can feel the aftershocks of her orgasm amplified by the feeling of him still deep inside her.

Neither wants to move, neither wants to leave this moment.

His mouth finds her ear and he whispers;

******************************

Prompted by a lovely anon, thank you, my dear! I hope you'll enjoy it. 💕

As always, my undying gratitude goes to my beta and sounding board, @firethatgrewsolow, for bouncing ideas back and forth, always inspiring me to be a better writer, and 'Fireproofing' my stories. 😘

This is completely fictitious but inspired by a certain leonine singer...

🍒🍒🍒🍒🍒🍒🍒🍒🍒🍒🍒🍒🍒🍒🍒🍒🍒

Anybody who looks that naughty and then proceeds to tie a knot in a cherry stem with their tongue should come with a health warning.

_________________________________________

The conversation and laughter was flowing freely around the table. A relaxed evening with friends at a Soho restaurant, raucous jokes, anecdotes and good wine makes for the best of times.

These little intimate basement places with all their knick-knacks and photos lining the walls are perfect for relaxed nights out with friends.

After a delicious dinner, dessert had been served with a bowl of maraschino cherries; in the middle of a joke I noticed you’d picked one up as you looked right at me. That slight smile as you brought it to your lips set my pulse racing, and by the time you snaked your tongue out to get the first taste, it was galloping.

I finally looked away for a moment (dammit! I didn’t want to be the first to flinch!) only to look back to find you had an infuriatingly smug look on your face.

As you popped the cherry (pun not intended) into your mouth and cocked one eyebrow suggestively I wasn’t sure whether to laugh or whimper.

Someone told another tale from the shires (how many corgi anecdotes can one person possibly tell and still make them entertaining?!) when out of the corner of my eye I caught you toying with the cherry stem, twirling it between your thumb and forefinger. You saw me looking at you and popped it in your mouth.

Oh, surely, you *couldn’t* be doing what I think you’re about to do!

Your tongue was clearly doing some kind of advanced exercise over there as you held my gaze. I knew I was turning a shade slightly reminiscent of the cherries but hoped the subdued lighting would conceal it.

Opening your mouth just a touch, you picked out the stem, now in a perfect little knot. I could feel myself blush bright crimson and my rather treacherous body responding.

Your amused and knowing smirk was *not* helping matters, nor were the two glasses of port I’d had with dessert...

Dear anon, thank you so much! 😘

I'm so sorry it's taken me so long to respond to this. I wrote something I hope you'll enjoy, it takes its inspiration from suggesting of teasing with a cherry. I'll post it in a separate post.

(To the other two prompts in my inbox, the moment inspiration strikes I'll grab my pen and paper! 😘)

*****

Thank you for your prompt, lovely anon! This was so much fun to write! I hope you enjoy it.

Please feel free one and all to keep sending me prompts! 😊

My never-ending gratitude goes to my wonderful beta and sounding board, @firethatgrewsolow , for 'Fireproofing' this and always inspiring me to become a better writer. 💕💖💕

This is purely a work of fiction.

********************************************

“Urgh!! BOLLOCKS!!”

The bloody sofa slipped out of my grasp for the third time. I gave it a kick and sat down on the front steps with an exasperated groan.

Look, don’t get me wrong, I love Holland Park, but I had to find the *one* mews with external stairs, didn’t I?!

‘No, you can just leave it here, I’ll get it up, thank you.’

There were times when being polite and not wanting to be a bother could lead to a real balls-up.

Taking a deep breath, I looked very sternly at the offending piece of furniture and told it in a determined tone, “Come on, you... thing.... You’re not bloody getting the better of me!”

Grabbing it firmly, I hoisted one end up and began pulling it up the stairs again.

‘Nononono!’ It was beginning to slip when I heard a voice from the other end;

“Don’t worry, I’ve got it.”

I couldn’t see who the voice belonged to but I didn’t care, I was just happy not to have the sodding thing slip away from me again.

“Thank you! Would you mind helping me up with it?”

“No, of course not.”

“Thank you! OK, let’s do this. Aaaand up!”

It was decidedly easier to do this with the two of us.

We got it through the door and into the sitting room, setting it down in front of the telly.

I straightened up; “Thank you, that was so k...” my voice stopped as I saw the blond mane with just a hint of grey.

“’Kind’, I was gonna say, ‘that was so *kind* of you’. You’re Robert Plant,” I babbled.

He gave me a wry smile.

“I am. I didn’t catch your name, though.”

“L____. I moved in the other week. Umm... I’m sorry but this is a bit surreal, you know. How... why... how...”

“Three excellent questions.” ('cheeky!') “I have the flat next door and I heard your, erm, rather colourful vocabulary and got curious.”

“Oh, no. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to disturb you.” Raising an eyebrow at the sofa, “I swear the blasted thing deserved it, though.”

“It was being naughty, was it?”

(How did he do that!? Make a simple sentence sound far more suggestive than it had any right to be.)

“Very. It tried to run away three times.”

“The fool. Running away from a beautiful lady.”

That made me both chuckle and blush.

“Well, neighbour, the least I can do is offer you a cup of tea for your trouble. What do you say?”

“That’d be lovely.”

“Make yourself at home. Take advantage of the fact that I finally have a sofa,” I smiled over my shoulder.

‘Oh. My. GOD!!! I have Robert bloody Plant in my flat, waiting for a cup of tea!!!’ my mind was screaming at me.

‘Calm down. Make tea. Tea... Tea? “You know, the stuff you brew in a tea pot after boiling water in the kettle?” Kettle? Oh, kettle!’

Filling it and turning it on, I then filled the tea pot with hot water, to warm it up.

Just as I reached for the biscuit tin, the strands of Louis Armstrong’s trumpet drifted into the kitchen. I smiled, he’d found my record collection, then...

Tea brewing and biscuits arranged on a plate, I re-joined him. He was browsing my shelves.

“Finding something that interests you?”

He turned around and looked me up and down, “Definitely.”

I could feel my cheeks turning pink again, ‘dammit!’. On the stereo, Ella and Louis began singing about “makin’ whoopee”. (‘Thanks, guys...!’)

“Come on, let’s have tea.” I put the tray down and handed him a cup.

The sofa had seemed so big just a few moments ago but now it felt miniscule as we sat down.

He asked me about myself, what I did and what had prompted my move into the mews. I asked him about himself and his favourite places in the area; the conversation flowed easily as we got into our passion projects, hobbies and favourite food.

We sat facing each other, both with one leg pulled up on the sofa, laughing at a particularly bad pun when he suddenly kissed me.

I was so shocked, I just stiffened and he pulled back quickly.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“No, no, don’t be. Um... I was just taken by surprise, but please continue.”

I cringed inwardly but his smiling lips were soon on mine again and all thoughts of awkwardness faded away as his hand slid into my hair, pulling me closer.

Mmmm... his lips were soft, and as he slid his tongue along the seam of mine, I opened for him.

Unable to hold back a soft moan as our tongues met, I grabbed the front of his jumper and pulled him closer.

He moved his lips over my cheek to my ear and whispered something that made my breath catch, and I pulled him up from the sofa, leading him to the large double bed in the next room.

His arms encircled my waist from behind and his lips found my neck, leaving little love-bites that made me weak in the knees.

My hands slid into his hair as he began tracing little circles under my shirt.

“This really ought to go,” he said, pulling my T-shirt over my head, turning me around.

The feeling of having no barrier between my naked chest and his gaze made me feel at once shy and emboldened, however, any trace of shyness soon vanished as his warm mouth found my left nipple.

The tickle of his beard sent thrills to my core, giving me a glimpse of what it would feel like further south...

The devilish glint in his eye when they met mine as he began worrying the little nub between his teeth had me teetering close to the edge.

With a pop he released me and pushed me down on the duvet. I bounced a little as he climbed over me, kissing me deeply.

Pulling at his jumper I got it over his head and could finally feel his warm, soft chest against mine.

I hummed as he began kissing his way down until he finally reached the waistband of my jeans, deftly unbuttoning and pulling them down before planting soft kisses along the edge of my knickers. I’d been soaked since he kissed me and so sensitive that the slightest touch sent little electric sparks straight to my core.

He looked up at me, silently asking for permission; nodding I lifted my hips so he could pull away the final barrier. Lowering his mouth to me, he stopped just before giving me what I so desperately needed. My frustrated whine made him chuckle as he asked, “you sure you want this?”

“Please,” was all I could manage, a pleading look on my face.

And finally, finally he was there, exactly where I needed him the most.

The first flicks of his tongue felt like the most pleasurable and humane electrocution. His skilled tongue danced over my most sensitive spot, my hips involuntarily grinding into his ministrations.

‘Uuuhhhh! Oh, god!’ The combined sensation of his beard and the sudden intensity as he sucked my swollen pearl into his mouth made me yelp.

‘Oh, god! Oh, god! Oh, (golden) god!’

His strong arm held me firmly pinned to the bed as he slid two fingers inside me, gently stroking in and out before finding the spot that made me see stars. The sounds I made were somewhere between mewls and whines as I clutched the sheets.

Oh, god! This man knows exactly what to do with a woman’s body! The perfect combination of... of...

“Oh, my god! Don’t stop! Don’t stop! Don’t...” the last word became a long drawn-out moan as I fell over the edge in an orgasm that made my head spin and my eyes cross.

He didn’t let up until he felt me begin to come down, when he gave my clit a soft kiss and gently slid his fingers out.

My heart was beating like I’d just done an Olympic sprint as I waited for my eyes to re-focus.

Pulling him up to me I kissed him hungrily, holding him close.

“Wow! That... that was... I mean... I... Oh, my god!!”

Thank you so much, dear nonny! 😘💗💗

This was a lot of fun to play with, I hope you'll like the finished result. I'm putting it up in a separate post. 💕💗💕

*******

Thank you for your prompt, lovely anon! I hope you enjoy this.

Please feel free one and all to keep sending me prompts! 😊

My never-ending gratitude goes to my wonderful beta and sounding board, @firethatgrewsolow, for 'Fireproofing' this and always inspiring me to become a better writer. 💕💖💕

******************************************

“I don’t care what you say! Red wine is not dinner.”

“But I even added in veg!”

If he wasn’t so damned charming he’d be too infuriating for words.

“Adding in a couple of orange slices and calling it sangria is not ‘adding veg’.”

I was doing my very best to keep a straight face.

“You just want to get me drunk so you can take advantage of me, don’t you?” I said, narrowing my eyes, trying very hard to keep my stern look in place.

“Me?? How could you even conceive of such an idea??” He brought his hand up to his heart in a gesture worthy of Gloria Swanson. “I’m wounded.” When he combined it with a look of eyelash-fluttering innocence, I burst out laughing.

“Yes, you, you wicked man,” I flicked a few drops of my wine at him as he bent down to kiss me.

“Go start a fire and I’ll do us some beans on toast, deal?”

“Deal.”

Inwardly chuckling, I softly shook my head and left him to his meal prep.

***

Mmmmm... the smell coming from the kitchen made me smile; there’s no better comfort food on a chilly day than beans on toast. Especially when eaten in front of the fire.

The logs were crackling merrily away by the time he entered with a tray and the rest of the wine.

“Here you go, m’lady. *Proper* dinner,” he said with a mock bow.

I grinned back at him. “Why, thank you, humble serf.” That earned me a raised eyebrow...

I’d arranged some pillows and a couple of sheepskin rugs on the hearth and soon we were snuggled up, tucking into the grub.

Perfect.

***

Resting against his chest after dinner, his strong arms around me, I was starting to doze off as he softly kissed my cheek. Turning just a little I met his lips, they were warm and soft with a faint taste of the red wine and oranges.

With a peck on my lips he pulled back slightly;

“You said something about getting you drunk and taking advantage... how are you feeling? Marinated and ready to be devoured?” That wicked glint was back in his eye.

“Why, sir,” I said with a gasp, in my best scandalised Scarlett O’Hara voice, “what wicked ideas you do have!”

Thank you, lovely anon. 💕

I wrote a little something I hope you'll enjoy. I'll post it in a separate post.