Smut? Who? Me?

Hello Fans! Or Fan!

So. Turns out I got some slack from the last post I made. “It was really graphic.” Yes. It’s a smutty book. “Romance” novel is a nice way to tell people who read things like “Chicken Soup for the Christian’s Soul” that I write smut. It’s smut. Lots of smut, with a plot mixed in there.

keep-calm-and-read-smut-8

 

So I will do something a little less gratifying for the smutty lovers, and a little more scandalous for the “romance” wanters. I will combine sweetness with smut and wait for it to hit the proverbial “romance” fan. How many times can I say smut in one blog post? Challenge accepted!

This week I am ordering business cards! I’m tired of writing this web address on napkins for people to lose, or forget. I also started getting real mail (and no, not email) about my ‘small business venture’ and how they can help. (It was only AT&T but shit, I got MAIL!). I’m sure throughout this time, I will have a ton of things sent that are un wanted, but it’s nice to see un wanted things than to be utterly ignored.

Please feel free to comment below (and share this with people who like smut!) I would love to hear what you have to say! In the mean time, enjoy another smut filled snippet. I mean, “romance” filled. (Smut, smut, smutty smut!)

Loves and Hugs,

Mandy

Disclaimer: All material is subject to copyright. This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are wither the product of the authors imagination of are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, alive or dead, is entirely coincidental. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorizes, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

He walks over to the guitars with me and from the corner produces an acoustic Gibson and hands it to me. My eyes go wide.

“Declan! This is a J-200 standard!” I run my fingers around the detail of the flowery, decorative face of the pick guard. I’m astounded that I’m here, touching this amazing instrument. “This is a 5,000 dollar guitar!” He’s still holding it out to me, eyebrows raised, offering it up like a meal, expecting me to take it. So I do, gingerly. I sit on the stool to the left of me and carefully place it on my lap, holding it horizontally so I can strum the strings. I do, and I notice it needs tuning, so with ease, I start to tune it by ear until it sounds like a perfectly tuned Gibson J-200. “This was introduced in the 1930’s. Pete Townsend played this guitar.” Declan is staring at me, watching me intently as he takes a seat on one of the plush chairs. His head is resting on his fingers, his elbow on the arm chair and his pinky by his lips. His hair is mussed and I find myself hungrily appraising him and forgetting what I am holding. He breaks my revere. “Will you play me something darling?”

Not being one to be terribly shy, I flush a little. “Do you have a capo?” He nods and retrieves one for me. I place it on the neck and adjust it so that I am ready. Playing in front of him means more than when I play for faceless strangers in a bar. I think of the songs in my head and come up with Van Morrison’s ‘Into the Mystic’. I know the key change, and chords by heart just like when my father taught me them for the first time. I slowly begin, sounding a little chalky at first then, slowly finding my way back to the song that I have played thousands of times. I continue, through the bridge, closing my eyes, getting lost in the lovely sound that this guitar makes. Fluid notes and seamless chord changes, I am astounded at the quality of sound and feel of it. Before I know it, and all too soon, roughly four minutes later, I am done. I end the song with one last stroke, my eyes still closed when I feel the guitar being pulled from me. When I open them, Declan is placing the guitar back into its rightful spot in the corner. He grabs my hands and pulls me out of the chair, pulling me flush against him. He takes my head in both hands. “That was the most beautiful thing I have ever heard. You, my Maggie, are beautiful, just an incredible creature.” I melt into his words and before I can respond to him, he is kissing me, hands on either side of my face. Slowly, I open my mouth so his tongue can slide in. I don’t regret it. His kisses are like velvet, slow, soft and oh, so good.

CH 13

I melt into his chest, and I move my hands into his robe, through his dark chest hair, up and over his shoulders. He moans audibly, holding nothing back. He pulls away too leaving me gasping to grab a remote off the ledge of the fireplace. With one click he turns it on. “It’s chilly in here yeah. This should warm things up enough to I can take you here, on the floor.” He is bold and sexy and everything I thought never existed. Then my thoughts shift. I should slow down. This whole night has been a whirlwind. I’m also tired and sore, but my body doesn’t seem to care as I follow his lead. “Are you cold Mag?” I can’t speak. I just shake my head, and then I de-robe, slowly, showing every piece of me to him, without hesitation. He gasps inwardly as I pull his robe and tug him to me. I can feel his erection through the terrycloth fabric and he pushes it into my belly, letting me know full well the reaction I evoke in him.

Gathering my wits, I look up, he’s at least five inches taller than me, just enough for me to nuzzle into him. As I breathe in his scent, I slowly untie his robe and push it over his shoulders. I hear it fall and we both stand, naked, in front of the fireplace of his music room, and all of those stunning Les Paul guitars. I kiss his chest and he smells like a mix of me, him and sex and its an intoxicating, heady scent that leaves me reeling. He wraps his hands around my waist and lifts me up suddenly, leaving me to wrap my legs around his powerful frame. He turns carrying me to the back door, which in turn has windows. “ I love when you wrap those beautiful legs around me Mag.” I do as I’m bid and take a cautious side glance at the windows I’m pressed up against. “Don’t worry, no one for a mile to see you, and trust me, I would share that glorious ass with anyone.” I kiss him, hard. My tongue making a path to his deepest place. Needing him, wanting him, I reach down to grab his length and center it to my opening. As soon as he is lined up, he pushes. Hard. I jolt upward, my head going back against the door with a small ‘thud’. The sting is gone in a nanosecond. He is filling me. Oh, he’s filling me up all the way and nothing around me matters. Nothing exists, but him, and me.

He starts to move, building up speed.  He is rough, impatient, his one arm snaked around my waist holding me in place. He brings the other one up under my neck. He grabs as if he’s choking me but does not squeeze. He keeps my head in place and he stifles my cries with chaste kisses, and small bites as he moves down my neck, sucking motions as if he’s tasting me and cannot get enough. I am close, my body almost rigid with pleasure. His fingers start to tighten and he’s gasping for air.

Sorry for the abrupt ending. But SMUT!  More coming…. 🙂 I hope you enjoyed it. xx

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