Post by Ximena on Jun 20, 2012 14:17:18 GMT -5
So I had this idea for a while for what I thought would be a short story, and I started writing it a couple days ago and am already up to 15K words and it's only the beginning, so I'm pretty sure it'll end up being a novel - maybe published under Ruth's new label!
The working title right now is UnConventional - it's about a woman who's married (but not very happily) who meets a man on the plane to LA on her way to a convention. They hit it off, and she's sure she'll never see him again, so she flirts with him. However, she learns he's going to the same convention, and it isn't long before they run into each other again, where she discovers to her happy surprise, that he's a wheeler.
Despite her initial resistance not to betray her husband, she can't resist spending time with him, and one night they both get a little drunk and... well, they have sex. The next morning, she panics, realizing what she's done, and decides to leave the convention early and try to forget that anything even happened.
Of course, a few weeks later, she learns she's pregnant, and she's pretty certain it's not her husband's child...
Anyway, the book is coming along pretty well! I just finished writing what I'd call the "pre-sex" scene--in other words, the scene right before they have sex. Thought I'd share this brief snippet with you guys! Enjoy -
A couple hours, two bottles of wine, and a handful of cocktails later, dinner was over, and we were both pretty drunk. At least I know I was. I pushed myself up from the table, and Santiago released his brakes, preparing to follow me. It was a good thing, too, because a few unsteady steps and I started to fall backwards. Instead of hitting the ground, Santiago caught me, pulling me into his lap.
“You OK?”
The world was spinning a little. It’d been a long time since I’d been quite this drunk, and I shook my head.
He laughed. “All right. But I charge extra for the ride back to the hotel.”
I felt him shifting my body slightly, presumably to make it less likely that my feet or knees would hit his wheels, and so I wouldn’t go tumbling off.
“You can put your arms around me so you don’t fall, if you’d like,” he said, adjusting my arms on him so I didn’t interfere (as much) with the movement of his shoulders or wrists as he began propelling us toward the door.
Everyone had to be staring at us, but I didn’t care; I was too drunk and too entranced. He’d shifted me so that my legs were resting on his, my torso at a slight angle, not quite perpendicular to his, one arm under his, the other around his neck, my head resting against his collar. He smelled incredibly sexy, faintly of fresh dollar bills with a hint of soap and the smoke of a pecan wood fire.
We moved slowly, partially because of my extra weight, partially because of my arms interfering with his movement, partially because he was drunk, too. The maitre d’ frowned at us as he held the door open and Santiago pushed us out into the night, which felt pleasantly warm, like slipping on your favorite pair of PJs fresh from the dryer. I pressed my forehead into the nape of his neck, and I could swear I felt his pulse gently throbbing against my skin. Being so close to him like this, touching him, him touching me–his arm just barely grazing mine as he pushed–inhaling his scent with each breath–I couldn’t stop myself from brushing my nose against his neck, just above his collar, and that lead to my lips, and soon I was kissing him softly, sensually, on the skin below his jaw line. I felt his arms stop, and we coasted for a bit, the momentum carrying us, as he leaned into my caresses. His breathing increased slightly as we came to a stop. I glanced up without leaving his neck, noticing the hotel was still a couple blocks away. The alcohol seemed to have put to bed the voice of reason, the part of me still loyal to Stephen, and I nibbled Santiago's neck lightly, playfully.
He let out a bit of a groan, but it was followed by a trill of laughter. I took this as a sign to keep going, and I wrapped my arms around him tighter to brace myself from slipping out of his lap, pulling myself up slightly as I kissed up his neck toward his ear, behind the base of his head. He followed my movements, his eyes closed, savoring the feeling as I nuzzled and kissed and teased his skin. And then his hands were on me, and he pulled me away from him. A flutter of panic, despite my drunken state, filtered up–had I done something wrong? He’d seemed to be enjoying it.
But before I could analyze the situation too deeply, he was kissing me, one hand supporting my back, pressing me towards him. He opened his mouth and I felt the rush of his warmth, his tongue that tasted like wine and chocolate and desire. I was grateful for his support, because I felt as if I were melting, my body sinking into him, into his kiss, my heart thumping against my chest as if it were a cheerleader urging me on.
We kissed for what seemed like forever, my hands working their way into his hair, that hair I’d so longed to touch from the moment I’d first sat down beside him on the plane. It felt as good as I thought it would: smooth, yet with texture and plenty of body, and stirring it with my fingers released his natural aroma, which was intoxicating and incredibly stimulating. I felt my body awakening with lust and longing for him, and I was grateful for the way the lace of my new sexy underwear rubbed against me, enhancing my arousal.
He finally pulled me back, gently; we were both breathing heavily. Lusts sparkled in his eyes, a playful smile coloring his face; he bit his bottom lip just slightly, making him look even sexier. “Do you want to come upstairs with me?”
Not only did I–not just for the chance to kiss him again, but to feel every part of his body, my hands spread out over his skin–but I didn’t want to have to leave his lap any time soon. My breath and heart felt so loud that when I spoke I almost couldn’t hear myself. “I’d love to.”
He kissed me again, his lips pressed to mine, before pulling back and smiling, gazing at me with that soft glow that made me want to fall into his eyes. Then he readjusted me and pushed us the rest of the way, his movements a little more urgent, although I would have been happy to stay cuddled in his lap forever.
The working title right now is UnConventional - it's about a woman who's married (but not very happily) who meets a man on the plane to LA on her way to a convention. They hit it off, and she's sure she'll never see him again, so she flirts with him. However, she learns he's going to the same convention, and it isn't long before they run into each other again, where she discovers to her happy surprise, that he's a wheeler.
Despite her initial resistance not to betray her husband, she can't resist spending time with him, and one night they both get a little drunk and... well, they have sex. The next morning, she panics, realizing what she's done, and decides to leave the convention early and try to forget that anything even happened.
Of course, a few weeks later, she learns she's pregnant, and she's pretty certain it's not her husband's child...
Anyway, the book is coming along pretty well! I just finished writing what I'd call the "pre-sex" scene--in other words, the scene right before they have sex. Thought I'd share this brief snippet with you guys! Enjoy -
A couple hours, two bottles of wine, and a handful of cocktails later, dinner was over, and we were both pretty drunk. At least I know I was. I pushed myself up from the table, and Santiago released his brakes, preparing to follow me. It was a good thing, too, because a few unsteady steps and I started to fall backwards. Instead of hitting the ground, Santiago caught me, pulling me into his lap.
“You OK?”
The world was spinning a little. It’d been a long time since I’d been quite this drunk, and I shook my head.
He laughed. “All right. But I charge extra for the ride back to the hotel.”
I felt him shifting my body slightly, presumably to make it less likely that my feet or knees would hit his wheels, and so I wouldn’t go tumbling off.
“You can put your arms around me so you don’t fall, if you’d like,” he said, adjusting my arms on him so I didn’t interfere (as much) with the movement of his shoulders or wrists as he began propelling us toward the door.
Everyone had to be staring at us, but I didn’t care; I was too drunk and too entranced. He’d shifted me so that my legs were resting on his, my torso at a slight angle, not quite perpendicular to his, one arm under his, the other around his neck, my head resting against his collar. He smelled incredibly sexy, faintly of fresh dollar bills with a hint of soap and the smoke of a pecan wood fire.
We moved slowly, partially because of my extra weight, partially because of my arms interfering with his movement, partially because he was drunk, too. The maitre d’ frowned at us as he held the door open and Santiago pushed us out into the night, which felt pleasantly warm, like slipping on your favorite pair of PJs fresh from the dryer. I pressed my forehead into the nape of his neck, and I could swear I felt his pulse gently throbbing against my skin. Being so close to him like this, touching him, him touching me–his arm just barely grazing mine as he pushed–inhaling his scent with each breath–I couldn’t stop myself from brushing my nose against his neck, just above his collar, and that lead to my lips, and soon I was kissing him softly, sensually, on the skin below his jaw line. I felt his arms stop, and we coasted for a bit, the momentum carrying us, as he leaned into my caresses. His breathing increased slightly as we came to a stop. I glanced up without leaving his neck, noticing the hotel was still a couple blocks away. The alcohol seemed to have put to bed the voice of reason, the part of me still loyal to Stephen, and I nibbled Santiago's neck lightly, playfully.
He let out a bit of a groan, but it was followed by a trill of laughter. I took this as a sign to keep going, and I wrapped my arms around him tighter to brace myself from slipping out of his lap, pulling myself up slightly as I kissed up his neck toward his ear, behind the base of his head. He followed my movements, his eyes closed, savoring the feeling as I nuzzled and kissed and teased his skin. And then his hands were on me, and he pulled me away from him. A flutter of panic, despite my drunken state, filtered up–had I done something wrong? He’d seemed to be enjoying it.
But before I could analyze the situation too deeply, he was kissing me, one hand supporting my back, pressing me towards him. He opened his mouth and I felt the rush of his warmth, his tongue that tasted like wine and chocolate and desire. I was grateful for his support, because I felt as if I were melting, my body sinking into him, into his kiss, my heart thumping against my chest as if it were a cheerleader urging me on.
We kissed for what seemed like forever, my hands working their way into his hair, that hair I’d so longed to touch from the moment I’d first sat down beside him on the plane. It felt as good as I thought it would: smooth, yet with texture and plenty of body, and stirring it with my fingers released his natural aroma, which was intoxicating and incredibly stimulating. I felt my body awakening with lust and longing for him, and I was grateful for the way the lace of my new sexy underwear rubbed against me, enhancing my arousal.
He finally pulled me back, gently; we were both breathing heavily. Lusts sparkled in his eyes, a playful smile coloring his face; he bit his bottom lip just slightly, making him look even sexier. “Do you want to come upstairs with me?”
Not only did I–not just for the chance to kiss him again, but to feel every part of his body, my hands spread out over his skin–but I didn’t want to have to leave his lap any time soon. My breath and heart felt so loud that when I spoke I almost couldn’t hear myself. “I’d love to.”
He kissed me again, his lips pressed to mine, before pulling back and smiling, gazing at me with that soft glow that made me want to fall into his eyes. Then he readjusted me and pushed us the rest of the way, his movements a little more urgent, although I would have been happy to stay cuddled in his lap forever.
