NaNoWriMo Day 19—Riot of Purple Profanity

Warning: If you read the previous passage you may know what’s coming next. This will be the scene where Phoebe and Kaden make love. I have never written a sex scene for public consumption before, but have written them for scenes that have been for my eyes only. So if you typically don’t like to read those scenes, you might just skip this one. If you love those scenes, please be warned that you might not find mine quite as titillating as others.

Disclaimer: This is down and dirty nano (not that kind of dirty, sheesh…well…not quite) written off the cuff by a pantser .

That looks like a lot of words, maybe I can add them to the end of my novel for padding. 😉

Current word count: 28,443


Aunt Philo’s house, which had been always been a family home for as long as there had been a town of Pleasure Point Cove, was a sprawling configuration of additions showing two centuries worth of growth and sometimes repair as hurricanes and nor’easters took their toll. The room Aunt Philo put Kaden in was on the back and away from the other bedrooms, which made Phoebe wonder if that choice had been made when Aunt Philo still had her foresight. Just the thought that Aunt Philo had known this would happen made Phoebe cringe.

The bedroom was designed with views in mind and added as it was it jutted out from the house so that it took advantage of the ocean to the east and the woods to the west. It had always felt like a private oasis to Phoebe with its tiny alcove with a fireplace and expansive sleeping area. She had frequently wondered why Aunt Philo hadn’t taken this room as her own when she bought the house from her parents.

Kaden closed the door and leaned back against it as he watched Phoebe. She went to close the curtains but stopped when she saw that the moon was rising over the ocean. Living on the coast she watched the moon rise often, but tonight it was red, not the red orange as during a lunar eclipse, but blood red as if it had been bathed in the consequences of a massacre. A shiver tingled over her and she felt goosebumps rise on her arms.

“Having second thoughts?” Kaden asked, his lips against her ear.

“I’m constantly one great big second thought,” she said turning in the embrace of his arms.

“I’ve noticed,” he said and then kissed her.

His hands moved over her, explored, while his tongue flicked against hers. She let her hands roam over him, her fingers discovering the taut muscles of his abdomen. She kissed his throat, the roughness of his day old beard raking her skin. His hands moved to her breast, cupped her, tweaked her nipple through the fabric of her gauzy shirt. Although insistent, demanding, the touch was gentle and a soft moan escaped her lips.

He stopped and lifted the hem of her shirt, his eyes on hers. The hunger she saw there was so penetrating that she glanced away, unable to withstand the intensity.

“Don’t look away, chere. I want to see your beautiful eyes. I want to see you want me as much as I want you,” he whispered.

He removed her bra and admired her breasts, the pink nipples, the creamy curving softness. She fought not to cross her arms as his eyes moved over her, blatantly approving, arousing.

“You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen,” he said so softly that she was unsure if she really heard him. She knew it wasn’t true. She had seen some of the women at his last gig, beautiful, tall, lithe blondes, but she allowed his words to flatter her, let her believe if only for now that she was special to him.

“Chere, don’t be shy with me,” he said as his hands caressed her.

She removed his shirt and pressed her breasts against his chest, feeling his hot skin against hers. She felt his hardness through his jeans and moved her hand to feel its shape, caressing, and then she unbuttoned his jeans, unzipped, and touched his satiny smooth cock. She ran the pad of her thumb over the slit, spreading the beads of precum. He moaned as her lips replaced her thumb and her tongue tasted him.

He lost his fingers in her hair as she took him between her lips. Her tongue licking, her lips sucking. She looked up at him and he was smiling in pleasure at her.

“Oh, Chere, the sight of those raspberry lips on me is about to make me cum, but I want to taste you before that happens,” he said.

They shed the remainder of their clothes. He sat back on the bed and gently gripped her hips and pulled her until she was between his legs and his mouth on her breast. She held his head against her chest and kissed his hair, arching against him as the pleasure of his nips and kisses seared through her, burning a path to the flood he was generating between her legs.

He pulled her onto the bed and then kissed a path from her breasts to her belly. His tongue teased her. Finally he arrived at the juncture of her thighs and tasted her. His breath teased her, his tongue slid over her button and she felt the spark surge through her. It had been too long since she had felt this, felt someone touch her, love her body. He knew how to make her explode, and his tongue and lips brought her to climax.

He spread kisses over her stomach, her breasts, her throat until his head rested on the pillow next to her and he looked into her eyes. “Oh, chere, you are what they mean when they talk about ambrosia.”

Another time she would have rolled her eyes, but his expression was so sincere that she kissed his lips instead. He leaned over and retrieved a condom from his jeans and rolled it on. As he moved between her legs, his eyes fastened on hers. When he entered her, she arched up to meet him, her fingernails digging to his back. The sensation of him inside of her made her forget herself. She wrapped her legs around him and became lost in the feel of him claiming her core. She clung to him feeling herself give way to another, deeper orgasm as he also climaxed.

She held him tightly and buried her face against his throat. Never had she experienced anything remotely like this.

His arms tightened around her. “God, chere. This, this was making love. You made me feel things I’ve never felt before.”

She suspected that wasn’t true, but she didn’t want to disrupt the pleasure she felt at hearing him say it.

“You’re smiling like a happy little cat,” he said.

“Maybe because I am.”


5 thoughts on “NaNoWriMo Day 19—Riot of Purple Profanity

      1. I know cause I’m having the same issues. Partly because being here, I am personal, feel contacted in a book with ppl you don’t feel a connection there is nothing personal. Proud of you for being able to overcome those concerns. It’s not easy.

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