Excerpts † Home † Contest † Links † Free † Bio †  e-mail † Resources

“Candy.” Quinn raised an eyebrow and stood waiting. “Just Candy, for now.” Sipping her drink, she walked over to the edge of the terrace and looked out on the scattered buildings of the campus. Quinn stepped behind her. The full moon lit the tree lined streets and walkways of a school that had been around for the past hundred years. “What do you teach, Quinn?”

“I am in the creative writing section of the English department. And you, Candy, what brings you here?”

She turned to face Quinn. “I came with a friend who promised I would meet some really cute single guys. You are single, right?” The chocolate brown of her eyes pulled him closer. The parting of full lips banished the remaining distance.

One of Quinn’s hands held to the small of her back, the other, the nape of her neck. Their lips brushed together and she nipped at his lower lip. “Yes, thank God I am,” Quinn replied. His tongue traced the curve of her upper lip and her mouth opened accepting him. Their tongues caressed and explored, hers stirring embers to flame. A flame not fed by air but the lack of it, not quenched by wetness but stoked by it. The fingers of one of her hands laced into his hair and the other embraced his hip. Her every move seemed the perfect reflection of his desire to be touched by her and touch her. Her body shifted and her hip pressed to his growing need. Her moan at its discovery fed into his mouth. The hand on his hip shifted to his ass and pulled his hardness tighter against her. His hand at her back lowered, gripping the swell of her bottom and her hips shifted, grinding and pressing at a growing need.

3