I took a quick break from all the house-sqwee-ing late last week to peruse some of the fun Kink of the Week posts for @Mollysdailykiss’ prompt, “The Look,” and was particularly … moved…yeah, that’s the word (riiight, OK, I was turned on) by Cammies on the Floor’s entry, Look of Intentions. It just so happened that another meme that she/they participate in, Flash Fiction Fridays, also had “That Look” as their prompt this week, accompanied by this image, so she combined the two memes in one very hot little story.
(Go on, read, I’ll wait here.)
(It’s come to my attention that the image originally posted with the FFF prompt is a photograph taken by a local friend & photographer, DarkNamelessOne Photography. I don’t know if permission was asked for or received to use it, but without the original photographer’s watermark, I don’t feel comfortable posting the image, so have removed it.)
The Flash Fiction Friday prompts contain an image, a word limit, key words, forbidden words and usually something for extra credit. You write your piece, then link your entry on Thursday or Friday, just as you do to the Kink of the Week. I’ve wanted to participate before, but never managed it – and damn it, I didn’t this time either, even though it was the perfect prompt!
I did write something, but couldn’t format the damn post correctly with my tablet, and then I got busy with the new house, so it’s sat here in my drafts til just now.
What the hell. It still works for the Kink of the Week, right? So here it is.
Maybe one of these days I’ll get something written for Flash Fiction Fridays, too.
It started innocently enough. It always did.
Kyra burrowed deeper into the mountain of blankets and pillows on the bed and watched through heavy-lidded eyes as Jordan finished buttoning his dress shirt. She pouted theatrically as the material closed over his broad, deeply-tanned chest, with its curl of thick, dark hair she loved to rake her fingers through. He caught her eye but said nothing, merely raising an eyebrow at her mock-petulant expression.
She loved and hated this part of their day. Loved seeing him in his business attire, ready to take on the world; hated him leaving here there in the bed, alone. Loved knowing he would come home to her at the end of his day; hated the long, lonely hours until he did.
Next were the trousers with their razor-sharp crease (that she had put there herself, not trusting the drycleaner to do them the way he liked). She made a show of raising up out of the covers to peer at his well-contoured behind as he pulled them up.
“What?” she asked, when he gave her that look again. “Can’t I admire the scenery?”
He looked pointedly at her breasts, bared to his view when she had raised herself up out of the blankets. “Are you admiring the view, or giving me one?” he said.
She grinned back at him. “Both are good, I’d say,” she said.
He laughed. “So would I.” She gave a little wriggle, making her breasts jiggle and sway enticingly.
He was apparently not enticed, however, because he turned away to retrieve his cufflinks from the top of his dresser. She flounced back into blankets, pouting again. After a moment, as he stood absorbed in the task of fastening them, she stuck out a toe and gave his backside a poke. When she got no reaction she drew her foot back to give him another, but before she could make contact his hand shot out and fastened around her ankle.
“Hey!” she squeaked, as he unceremoniously hauled her toward him by the leg. And then, “Ouch!” when he continued to pull her and she landed on the floor with a thump. Seeing the dangerous glint in his eye, she tried to scramble backward, out of his reach, but he was too quick for her. He grabbed her by the back of her head, his fist in her hair, before she had gotten back to the relative safety of the bed, and hauled her up to her knees in front of him.
There was a heavy, molten silence in the room as she stared up into his face, trying to bring her breathing back under control. Her breath caught at the look on his face, at the naked heat she saw there, as well as something else…something infinitely deeper than mere lust.
He didn’t need to say the words. They were there all over his face, in the look she held so dear and knew so well.
He smiled then, and kissed the tip of her nose, before letting her go.