Writing Life

Editing obsession continues. The obsessive writer at work – editing to strengthen. How many passes before the words are right? No idea. I do know that I've fallen into the endless edit loop before. Stuck in a rut that never becomes a road.

Warning: For anyone offended by graphic sex stop reading right now.

Making love with Bella was wrong. She deserved love, marriage and babies. He couldn’t be the man to give her those things. Desire pulsed through him tightening every muscle and settling with cruel weight in his groin.

“You’re waiting for Mr. Right and the ring and all that?”

She shook her head. “No.” Her voice huskier, almost croaky. “I’m never marrying.”

“Why the hell not?”

The words erupted from his mouth. He hadn’t planned any of this and he was a man who planned everything. His control eroded by her presence. He should leave. He was kidding himself. His escape route narrowed out of existence the moment he crossed her threshold.

“I’m a Williams.”

She said it as if she’d given him a complete explanation.

“So?” An impossibly soft shoulder shrugged. “We don’t marry.”

She changed the subject with her eyes. They moved between his face and his groin. Every glance a lick thickening his cock and thinning his control.

She toyed. Tracing the rim of his belly button with wary fascination.

Insane discipline gripped him. He captured her hand and held it against his chest.

The Levi’s fly stretched taut, every buttons riding at an extreme angle. He hoped to hell they held. His heart hammered as if he’d been running sprints.

“If Williams women don’t marry, how to you keep the line going?”

Bella barricaded her nudity behind a fluffy pillow.

“The usual way.” Bella tilted her chin up a notch.

“The usual way involves a man.” Derrick focused determinedly on her eyes.

“Briefly.”

Not flattering, but true enough.

“Come here.” He held out his arm. She scooted closer clinging to the pillow. Not trusting him with her body.

“You make me crazy.”

“Truly?” Her brows arched.

“Yeah.”

She licked her lips pouting. He punished her with a tongue-lashing.

Her touch feathered down his torso. Muscles bunched into knots under the softest of caressed. She lingered at his belly button. A new erogenous zone pulsed to life.

He unbuttoned his jeans with trembling fingers. Shucked them.

Lowered himself slowly, he covered her body with his. Carefully he kept his weight off her. Gently he nudged her thighs apart. Settled.

She sighed and he swallowed the sound capturing her breath. Her essence.

Though slick from her earlier climax, she was tight. He pushed the head of his cock into her slippery heated core. Her inner muscles, surprisingly strong and silky, clamped around him. He thrust into her. Stilled.

She froze beneath him.

He clenched his teeth preparing to withdraw.

Bella bucked her hips, angling for more contact or trying to unseat him?

God help him, every moment brought him closer to climax.

“Do you want me to stop?” He wasn’t sure he could.

“It doesn’t feel good.” Her voice was small.

He felt like an animal. He was an animal. The animal’s balls tightened.

She bucked.

Animal sounds roared from his throat. He lost control thrusting. Once. Twice. Heart pounding, muscles knotting, cock spurting.

He levered his torso off her enough to see her averted face. Tear tracks stained her cheek.

He pushed from her severing their intimate connection. Bella curled into a ball. He ignored his wants stroking her back.

She shuddered. “I thought I’d like it.”

Her disappointment was humbling.

Derrick knew a dozens ways to pleasure a woman. What had he done? Thrust into her like a rutting bull.

What happened to his control? Cracked with first kiss. Shattered with an irresistible urge to taste her. The shards scattered with his honor. Everything he believed blown away in few minutes of unimagined-impossible-to-deny desire.