Friday, December 30, 2016

It's time for Keegan!

Shaking her head, she drifted through the crowd. A drowsy sensation hit, making her wonder for a second if she shouldn’t sit down. The fruit slipped from her fingers, every muscle in her body relaxing at the same time. To completely confuse her, her clit started to throb in a slow cadence. Stopping, she touched her forehead. What was happening? Her nipples pressed against the top she wore and throbbed in need. Hell, everything on her screamed to be touched.
With the prickling sensation of someone watching her, she looked around for the cause. Her gaze locked with a man on the other side of the gazebo. His cobalt blue eyes stood out from the rest. Obviously yet to be transformed, at a guess she didn’t think he stood more than about five-five in height, and his hair, in one shade of light brown, barely touched his shoulders. The way he stared caused a shiver, hypnotizing her with his eyes. What was he doing to her?
In one hand he held a piece of the same fruit she had been eating. In the other he held a drink. His stare never wavered as he popped the last piece into his mouth and tipped the cup to his full lips to wash the bite down.
The breeze picked up, blowing open his unbuttoned shirt. For a guy who had yet to change, his chest looked powerful to her, enough for her to know, from what she’d been told about runts, he would be huge once he did.
The breeze blew right in her face carrying with it a scent of freshness to make her lightheaded. Another wave of dizziness, almost a drugged sensation hit, mixed with a strange impression of tiny fingers touching her body. The pounding need grew stronger inside her, pooling between her legs, frightening and thrilling her. She wanted to stay and run at the same time. The stranger still staring didn’t help. No, he moved toward her. Son of a bitch! She could almost feel his body heat.
Panicked, Zhora turned away as he moved toward her. She pushed her way out of the crowd in an overwhelming urge to get away from things going on in her body she didn’t understand.
She didn’t get far.
He caught her, the one staring at her. Grabbed by the arm, she swung around, and lips covered hers. She was kissed and kissed deep. The impulse to run disappeared. She had no control over her body, couldn’t stop her arms from going up around his neck or stop her eyes from closing. Zhora didn’t mind either. She enjoyed the kiss, even kissed him back.
Boy, did he have a skill with his mouth.
His lips moved over hers. His tongue teased her lips until she opened for his tongue to slip inside. God, he tasted good. Too fucking good. He tasted of fresh air after a big storm. Zhora wanted to crawl into him, to get closer to enjoy his touch more than mere kissing satisfied.
He walked her backward, and she went willingly. The feelings, the emotions hitting her too overpowering to fight had she wanted to. Zhora had to have more, needed more, craved more. She touched his chest, skimming both hands up and down smooth muscles. Up to his shoulders, she pushed the shirt off, not understanding why she had the compulsive need to.
Never this way, she wasn’t the kind of girl to kiss a stranger, to strip him, or make out, yet she was doing all of those things. The urge to feel his skin against hers drove her while the outside world melted away in a haze until only the two of them existed.
Something wasn’t right, one part of her mind told her at the same time everything felt damn right. This wasn’t her, yet she didn’t stop. She wanted his hands on her, his mouth on her body, and he seemed to need her as badly as she needed him. The voice telling her it was wrong grew weaker.
The kiss ended. He turned her around, pushed her hair aside, and put those hot fucking lips on her shoulder. Zhora leaning back against his chest and almost melted in the arms encircling her. Arms over her shoulders, her hands found his head and fisted into his hair as his hands stroked her, starting at her bare belly moving up. Breathing hard, almost to a point of not being able to breathe at all, she couldn’t resist rubbing back against him. Relinquishing her hold of his hair, she moaned when his hand went down her bare leg and his lips traveled down her back.

Monday, December 12, 2016


She lit the candle, and saw more, forming a circle around the room and she proceeded to light every single one. There had to be over a hundred candles.
Nothing. No furniture, no decorations, nothing else in the room, but for something large hidden under a sheet that might’ve been white at one time. There also was a fireplace with more candles on the mantel. Clair went over, lit them, and saw the only decoration in the room—a large, oval mirror positioned over the fireplace.
Turning around she faced the sheet. With a hard yank, it came off and she frowned. A large toy soldier that, if smaller, would be a nutcracker, stood in the center of the room facing the fireplace.
It was the strangest thing she ever saw. In fact, Clair never saw a nutcracker this big in her life. They were always small.
A cold draft hit her and Clair had the sudden urge to start the fire. The chill seemed to penetrate the whole house.
She filled the fireplace with logs, found some paper, and matches, and began to work at it. It was weird how the thing didn’t seem to want to light at first. Almost as if, something might be preventing the flame from catching.
“Come on,” she mumbled, striking another match. This time it caught.
A gust of blue flame ignited, shot out, and knocked Clair backwards onto the hard floor. The single flame seemed to burst out of the fireplace, moved around the room, snaked around the soldier. She watched it, fascinated by the way it moved, eventually returning to the fireplace and lighting the wood and newspaper she’d stuff inside the hearth.
It crackled, burned, and heated the room nicely. Clair slowly got back up to her feet, not taking her eyes off the fire.
“Maybe I’ve had too much to drink with my medicine,” she said to herself, pressing her hand to her forehead. “Or maybe the damn tumor is finally starting to fuck with me now.”
Her eye caught the mirror, and her breath left in a rush. Standing behind her, she saw a man—a naked man, watching her as she watched him.
In complete panic mode, she turned only there wasn’t a man just the toy soldier, but the soldier felt as if it was watching her. She could actually feel his eyes upon her, and it was a bit nerve racking. She hated being watched.
“What the hell is going on with me?” Her hand shook as she reached out to touch the goy soldier. Right before she touched it a hand shot out, grabbing hers, the wooden arm and hand crumbling to the floor at her feet. She screamed.
The man she’d seen in the mirror showed from inside the toy soldier. He held onto her wrist as the rest of the soldier crumbled, revealing his entire body. He took a step forward and left the shell of the toy behind as he came to life. Then the wooden shell simply fell apart around his feet and crumbled into nothing more than wood.
She went down to her knees in shock.
“Clair Meloni,” he said once he was fully out of the tin soldier’s frame, the pieces everywhere around him, his voice so thick, and so deep, it made her shiver.
His body was a brick of muscle, not an inch of fat upon him. The hair upon his head screamed sex appeal. Long blond locks streaked with black, touched his shoulders. Big blue eyes looked down at her, long sexy lashes touched his face, his lips full and sensuous He looked like some mythical God—a very naked one, standing before her!
His deep, rumbling voice murmured, “It’s time.”