touch speak

the angry black
truths
swirling deep inside
my voiceless soul
rest willingly
beneath
your tenderness
touch me
press your love
into my skin
with the brush
of fingertips
light as feathers
the work they do
there
here
oh, everywhere
will never be seen
but the ripple
beneath the surface
is an undercurrent
flush with
medicine
to cure the mute
heated
and sped
throughout me
give me the reason
to ignore
my own
hateful thoughts
wrap me
in want
don’t grip me
in fear
my turbulent heart
is starved
for
your gentle hand
touch me
kiss me
find me
and I
will say
everything

Advertisements

magic touch

Holding Light in My Hand by WillTC
Holding Light in My Hand by WillTC via DeviantArt.com

those fingers dancing
over each hill and every valley
brushing away pesky thoughts
pressing needy sighs
from my lips
hold on tighter
touch me lighter
pinned beneath
my gentle giant
urged to feel
stroked to surrender
forced to release
tonight
at the edge of tomorrow
let me perform
that song you love to hear
take me there
mad, wild, lovely
until I am nothing
and everything
pure pleasure
beneath your fingertips
your
magic
touch

Burning

Flame of Lust by cygon via DeviantArt.com

Pressed against you
Pale, supple softness against
Hot, dark, rigid heft
I am small, pliable, vulnerable
Stretched and shaped
For your pleasure
My want knows no limit
Beyond
The fear that
Flickers behind my eyes as
Broad, rough hands
Circle
Delicate wrists
Binding me
Without bondage
Sniffing and growling
Like a beast with his prey
I search the eyes of a man
Burning with anticipation
As I find myself crushed
By an animal instead
I could plead for gentility
But I want the
Glowing
Virile
Overheated
Rage
Of your lust
I long to be burned
To pieces
And
Put back together
By desire so heady
It is almost insane
Rip me to shreds
Sweet beast
Toss me into the
Fire of your love
Wrapped in
Lace
And reverence
Then watch me
Step from your bed
Charred forever
Changed completely
Just promise
Not
To leave
Any little part
Behind

No Wait

Wait by jeylina via DeviantArt.com
Wait by jeylina via DeviantArt.com

 

A breath, a moment, the turn of a page

That is the longest you should ever

Have to wait

There is no spell to be broken

No seduction necessary

I am yours

Seconds, minutes, hours

Sewn together into pillows

And whisper soft curtains

Tied off with satin bows

Beneath bright, shining strings

Of dreams

And plans

Glowing with such intensity that

Your fingertips burn

From the longing

Trace the stars into my skin

Kiss that promise

Against my flesh

Mark my body with your will

Your want, your need

Feel me falling over and over and over…

Because Love doesn’t wait

I am yours

In The Story where

I can write only with

My lips, tongue and hunger

I don’t have time for anything else

Just take me

In the sun, on Your bed, in this palace

Of a king…

With the conviction of your purpose

The knowledge that tomorrow

Always comes

And the patience to accept me as I am

Tell me, show me, command me

I am yours

No wait

Pretty

AG Studio Blog
AG Studio Blog

a butterfly’s
broken wings
do not
detract from their
beauty
magic cannot be lost
in the wind
or rain
the beat of my heart
remains strong
despite it’s ache
and your love never
waivers
even in the ugly face
of doubt
I am Pretty
basking in
your glow
simpering beneath
your smile
stinging from
your will
so pretty
in the clear calm warmth
of your gaze
you know just the words
and look
and touch
I need
to burn away that fog
and see myself
clearly
once again
I am Pretty
in the reflection
of your love
my wings are healed
because
of your love

Red, revised – Snippet from Broken Hips, #WIP

 

This is one of those posts… The kind I never expected I’d write. I’m about to write about writing. Because, after posting my snippet yesterday, I read it. And, it felt off.

Sometimes, when you are in a predicament like I am, trying to squeeze in the writing wherever it will fit, often having to dig it free with my fingernails because, let’s face it, a life full of work, dirty diapers, first grade bullies, homemade baby food, spelling homework and drudging through my emotional issues isn’t exactly inspirational. I’m trying to force myself to do it, because I want to. Because I want to write. That is genuinely all of it. But writing is not the same as writing well.

After posting Red yesterday, I knew something was wrong, so I asked for some writing advice from a friend who is mentoring me through this process. I tend to overexpose. I tend not to trust the reader. I tend to tell the story instead of letting the story tell itself. I want you to see the scene exactly as I see it in my head… but that is just silly, because we are going to interpret things differently, and isn’t it better to let you have your own experience with it?

And, as he pointed out, Leigh sounded an awful lot like Meredith, yesterday, instead of Leigh.

I’m in the beginning stages of a second draft of Good Girl, so Mer has been fresh in my mind lately. And truthfully, Leigh is a stretch for me (which is great, because stepping out of your comfort zone is often when the really good stuff happens).

Leigh is a real hardass. She is not soft and fluffy. She’s not a babygirl, like Mer. And she wouldn’t say half of the things I made her say yesterday. So, I revised the scene. And I’m posting it to see what you think. You can read the opening scene here. There is much in between that I’m not sharing on blog, mainly because I’m not even sure what I’m going to do with this story yet. But I wrote a little more this morning. I should put it away so I can concentrate on my first project.

What can I say. I have ADHD!

Let me know what you think!

20150504_131026_20150504132154559

I look at him, beneath a sheet of red hair, with a grin that only nips at my cheeks and never makes it to my eyes.

“Those eyes give you away, Leigh.”

As he steps closer, I narrow them, and I feel the corners of my mouth pull in.

“Come on. Let go. You can just… be, when you’re with me, you know?”

His fingers slide my hair away from my face as he touches my cheek. His voice falls.

“Look at me this time. And don’t run away.”

I glance up into his eyes, willing myself still.

For a moment, I think about scaring him off, like I had that first night. Or when I’d dyed my hair. Or when Nicole told him he was too good for me.

But that would make him fight me again. Even though he said he never would.

“You’re shaking. …Say something.”

My thoughts crash into each other, none of them letting any of the others get any leverage. I want to just fucking leave. But something is keeping me locked here. And it isn’t just his fucking hands on me.

“I get it, babe. You want to fight instead? Kick the crap out of me so you can feel enough pity to let me kiss you again?”

I hear the laugh gurgle up from my chest. But, as I watch him, I stop it. Staring into his soft, brown eyes, I do want him. Fuck. I do want him.

“I don’t really want that… But I want you, Leigh.”

I shake my head, looking at the lips of this nerdy, little prick that just confessed… He wants me.

He moves closer, his voice so low.

“You’re not running. And you’re not swinging.”

His breath falls across my lips and my lungs ache from holding my own air too long.

When his lips touch me, I feel the rush. I reach up to hold onto him, the same way he holds onto me. Both of us working to keep me here. I sigh when he pulls back, and looks straight through me again.

“I need you to tell me. Tell me what you want.”

I swallow and slide my fingers back into his thick hair, trying to make my feet move closer to him, or pull him closer to me.

“No, Leigh. Tell me. Open that big, beautiful mouth of yours and talk to me. Any other moment, you’d have a whole mouthful of words for me.”

I roll my eyes, and he groans, pulling further back and letting his hands fall. I let mine drop as well.

“Please… Doc.”
“She speaks!”
“Don’t be a fucking asshole.”
“No, let’s turn that around, shall we?”

I frown at him, and look down at his hands at his sides. He raises them, crossing his arms in front of his chest and I turn away for a moment. I want to leave. But I don’t.

As I face him again, the corner of his mouth is tugging upward and he lifts his fingers to my face again. I sigh with relief at the contact, leaning into it but hoping he doesn’t notice.

“You want more, Leigh?”

I force myself to close the gap between us while my cheeks burn.

“Kiss me.”

The words hang in my mind, but I’m not quite sure I actually said them.

“Kiss me the way you did that first night.”

His eyes bore through me.

“Please, Doc…”
“No, Leigh. Tell me.”
“I’m here! Isn’t that enough?”
“No. Because you need to admit to yourself, as much as I need to hear it. It may have been fun, but I don’t want to have to fight you to fuck you.”

I smirk. But for barely a moment. Because his expression is not that of a man who just wants to fuck.

I swallow and press against him, pulling at the words in my head, trying to force them out. Until his face begins to harden.

I inhale deeply and close my eyes.

“I want you, Doc. I want you to kiss me. I want you to make love to me…”

Every muscle in my body is tense, and when I open my eyes, they dart between his and his lips for what seems like an eternity. I can taste blood from where I’ve bitten the inside of my lip to keep still. My feet tingle. My head aches.

Until his eyes spark with something unfamiliar, and his lips soften into a tiny smile before crushing mine.

His tongue parts my lips and his hands slide into my hair, pulling me up to meet him further before gliding down my body, under my ass, and lifting me to wrap my legs around him.

My body seems possessed, giving and taking what it wants. My hips grind against him, while my fingers slide into the collar of his polo so I can feel his skin. I bite his lip, fisting my hands in his hair. Then he strokes my tongue with his own, sending electricity through both of us until we finally need breath more than that kiss.

He sits me on the table and tugs the buttons of my blouse apart. When it opens, I pull it off as he steps back to look at me.

I know I am still scraped and bruised, and glance down at my plain red bra. I tense, seeing all those fucking marks. But as his finger crooks under my chin, tugging my face back to his, I feel every muscle in my body relax.

His voice sounds so fucking right. And his words pool deep inside me.

“I know you did it to piss me off. But I really fucking love the red, baby. On you. It’s perfect.”

Red – A snippet from Broken Hips, #WIP

20150504_131026_20150504132154559

I smiled at him, beneath a waterfall of red, but that grin only nipped at my cheeks and never made it to my eyes.

“I can see right through you, Leigh. Those eyes have given you away from the start.”

As he stepped closer, my breath caught in the base of my throat. I didn’t want him to touch me, but I didn’t want him to NOT touch me, either.

“Let go. You can breath with me.”

His fingers rose and slid the stream of my hair away from my face until they slipped down my cheek and jaw. His voice fell to a whisper as he lifted his other hand so that he held me there.

“Look at me this time. And don’t run away.”

I lifted my eyes to to his, trying to keep myself still, but trembling with the instinct to go. It wasn’t fucking instinct, really. I’d programmed myself this way. I didn’t deserve anyone to be tender and graceful with me.

For a moment, I thought about trying to toughen up again. Scare him off, like I had when I first dyed my hair. He’d told me he loved it before, and I didn’t want to let him love any part of me. Or make him fight me again. Even though he said he never would.

“You’re shaking.”

I tried to bring thoughts to my lips, but there were none. No words for this moment. None from me, at least.

“I get it, babe. You want to fight instead? Kick the crap out of me so you can feel pity enough to kiss me again?”

I heard the laugh bubble up from my chest before I felt it. But I stared into his soft, brown eyes, willing him to step closer. I did want it. I did want him.

“You know I don’t want that.”

I nodded, or tried to. While forcing my entire body to remain motionless. I did want him.

“You’re not running.”

His breath fell across my lips. He moved so achingly slow, like he was sure I was a frightened doe, and would bolt at any moment.

When his lips touched me, I felt that rush of emotion that had scared me so much the first time. I reached up to hold onto him, the same way he held onto me. Both of us working to keep me there. I sighed as he pulled back, and he looked straight through me again.

“I need you to tell me, baby. Tell me what you want.”

I swallowed and slid my fingers back into his thick, wavy hair, trying to make my feet move closer to him, or maybe pull him closer to me.

“No, Leigh. Tell me. Open that big, beautiful mouth of yours and talk to me. You know at any other moment, you’d have a mouthful of words for me.”

He rolled his eyes, pulling further back and letting his hands fall to my shoulders. My heart sank.

“Please… Doc. Please put them back.”

The corner of his mouth tugged upward as he lifted his fingers to my face again. I sighed with relief at the contact. God, I really did want this.

“More.”

I forced myself to close the gap between us while my cheeks burned with that stupid, fucking internal arguement.

“Kiss me.”

The words hung in my mind, but I wasn’t sure I’d said them.

“Kiss me the way you wanted to that first night.”

His eyes bore through mine with their silent demands.

“Please, Doc…”
“No, Leigh. Tell me.”
“I’m here! Isn’t that enough?”
“No. Because you need to admit to yourself, as much as I need to hear it. It may have been fun, but I don’t want to have to fight you to fuck you.”

I smirked. But only for a moment. Because his expression was not that of a man who just wanted to fuck.

I swallowed again and pressed against him, pulling at the words in my head, trying to force them from my lips, but failing. Until his face began to harden with disappointment. And rejection.

Then they poured out of me like he’d turned on a faucet.

“I want you, Doc. I want you to kiss me. I want you to make love to me. I want you to love me…”

Every muscle in my body tensed as my eyes darted between his eyes and his lips. I wanted to run so badly that I could taste blood from where I’d bitten the inside of my lip to keep still. His eyes sparked with something unfamiliar, but his lips softened into a tiny smile before he crushed me with his kiss.

His tongue parted my lips and his hands slid into my hair, pulling me up to meet him before gliding down my body and under my ass, lifting me to wrap my legs around him.

My body was possessed, giving in and taking what it wanted. My hips ground against him, while my fingers slid into the collar of his polo to feel his skin. My lips caressed his while our tongues danced, sending shots of electricity through both of us until we needed breath more than the kiss.

He sat me on the table and tugged the buttons of my blouse apart. Hurried, but not frantic, when it finally opened completely, I pulled it off as he stepped back to look at me. I knew I was still scraped and bruised, and glanced down at my plain red bra, feeling so much more exposed than I ever had with any other man. But as his finger crooked under my chin, lifting my face back to his, I felt every muscle in my body relax, his words pooling into something that felt so, fucking right, deep inside of me.

“I know you did it to piss me off. But I really fucking love the red, baby. All of it. On you. It’s perfect.”