Hey lovelies, happy Hump Day!
I almost didn’t make it to today’s Wednesday Brief. My muse seems to be on the run and worrying about my eldest dog getting operated hasn’t helped (everything went fine, btw). However, somehow, I managed to scrape together Little Luna's next chapter. I hope you like it and as always, don't miss out on the other great Briefer's!
I’ve used the following prompts:
“As thick as London fog …” and “She ran in …”, although I have altered this last one a bit.
Little Luna (5)
Before Mikelo could grab her again, she stood and ran. The fog swirled around her, blinding her and confusing her as she fought her way barefoot through the brambles. When had she dropped her shoes? The thought invaded her mind that at least that way, when they searched for her they’d know she’d been abducted.
Mikelo’s gravelly voice called her back, the sound sending a sharp jolt through her. Ignoring the pain in her chest, she continued to run.
The voice was closer now, the sound reverberating through her and making her cell in her body tingle. She brushed the sensation away, adducing it to fear.
Her throat constricted. Her heart fluttered. Tears she didn’t realize she’d been holding began to slip down her cheek. No. No. No.
He was close. Without stopping, she twisted her head, searching for him through the dense fog. Arms flailing wildly, she screamed as she tripped and fell hard on her knees.
She attempted to stand, but it was too late. Strong hands hauled her to her feet. Muscled arms wrapped around her in a warm embrace. Tears flowed freely as fingers combed her hair and soothing nothings were whispered in her ear.
Clare leaned into the firm body holding her, comforting her. Her tears started to abate and she noticed for the first time the sound of a beating heart, steady, soothing, right next to her ear. Unconsciously, her hand lifted, curling over the spot. She took in a deep breath, inhaling Mikelo’s wild scent. Again. He smelled wild, musky. Delicious. As if he knew her thoughts his pulse sped beneath her ear. Swallowing, she looked up. Mikelo glanced at her, a mixture of concern and something she couldn’t quite pinpoint in his dark gaze. His lips parted. No. No words. She didn’t allow him to speak. Standing on her toes, she reached out for him, brushing her mouth against his. A zinging current swept over her, sensitizing her skin and landing hard between her legs.
Again. She swept her lips over his, nipping on his bottom bow. Mikelo’s groan fuelled her. Her hands rested on the nape of his neck, bringing him down to her ravenous mouth. She didn’t have to coax him. His mouth opened, his tongue dancing with hers as if their life depended on it. His calloused hands slid over her waist, down to her hips. He pulled her closer, drawing a moan from her as she felt his need pressing against her. Mikelo pulled back, raining kisses on her jaw, her neck, her chest.
“Mikelo,” she gasped out his name as her dress pooled at her feet. Her bra snapped at then it was his mouth on her breast, his tongue lavishing her puckered nipple. They fell to the floor, his hard body pressing down over her pliant one. She ran her fingertips over his muscled abdomen, tracing the scars on his ribs, the tattoos on his side.
His voice was like hot chocolate. Or was it his eyes? She couldn’t look at him, couldn’t gaze into those dark pools of wonder as he adored her body. She didn’t know when her panties vanished. She didn’t care. It was all about Mikelo: His heat, his breath, his horns rubbing against her clit as he lapped at her juices. She writhed and moaned shaking underneath her lover’s attentive touch.
His pale face was flushed, his eyes dark as the night as he introduced a finger inside her.
“My little Luna.”
My. She didn’t miss the possessive word nor the possessive growl as another finger made its way inside her and curled over her g-spot.
Was that a third finger? His tongue? His horns? She didn’t know. She didn’t care. Her world narrowed. Her body trembled. She was so close, so close to the edge.
“Crumble and fall, little Luna.”
Without mercy, he shoved his digits inside her while his mouth latched onto her breast, biting.
“Mikelo,” she cried out his name, her body arching and her muscles clamping as the orgasm shook her to the core.
Clare’s eyes snapped open. For a moment, she was disoriented. Where was the fog? The mist dancing over their naked flesh? Where was Mikelo? She missed his heat, his firm hands on her skin. She swallowed and scrambled to sit up. Her eyes adjusting to the dimly lit surroundings, she realized she was in a bedroom of sorts, lying on a comfortable mattress and covered by furs. Peaking beneath one, she started. She was dressed. Still wearing the wedding dress and the nylon stockings. Had it all been a dream? Her hands shook. It felt so real: Mikelo’s voice, his touch, his caress, his heat. Her body tingled, her vagina still spasming from the aftershock of her orgasm. That had been real. Sighing heavily, she closed her eyes. She felt bereft, cheated in a way that she didn’t understand. Shouldn’t she feel relieved that none of it had actually happened? Shaking her head, she threw back the covers. It didn’t matter, she had to get out of there.
The voice stopped her in her tracks. Turning toward it, her eyes widened as from the shadows a figure she’d failed to see before, emerged.
To be continued...
This week's Briefers!