Uncategorized – Page 3 – Year of the Inner Goddess

Caelithra’s Hunger

Caelithra’s fingers slid between her own legs, skimming the wetness she found there, teasing her folds, mirroring what she witnessed, tethered to the scene of debauchery.

After weeks without touch, even the smallest affection should unravel me. The gentlest hands should unlock something buried and waiting. Instead, I am tired. Bone-deep. Spirit-weary tired. Ever the caregiver. Even with him. And that is the most frustrating part – I cannot seem to arrive where he is.

The Smallest Trespass

It was that single blink…that palm at my knee, that occulted insistence…that invitation for the flower to open further still.

A Perfectly Reasonable Afternoon

A kiss that did not end when it should have. Then it deepened. And just like that, thought abandoned me entirely. “Convenient,” my Inner Goddess murmurs dryly. “You stall for hours, and then throw yourself at the one man who can’t stay long enough to do anything about it.”

The Devotion of a Warrior’s Hands

Not bolder, never crude, but aware. His hand reclaimed the same path, yet this time it lingers a fraction longer, the faintest suggestion of pressure, a fingertip curling inward. A question, wordless and exquisitely placed.

Of Water, Fire, Wings, and Earth

With the brute ferocity of womanhood called upon to rise up, yet again, with hands fisted in iron resolve and teeth clenched against the scream that lacerates its way upward. I bind the water. I smother the flame. I fold the wings. I bury the earth.

A Lofted Night

There they lay…an Archani and an Elfin Goddess…languishing upon the narrow pallet atop the lofty platform, scarcely a breath from where I sat. Their mouths met in silken, rosy kisses, each one deeper, more zealous than the last…

Neck Kisses and Further Improprieties

I am a strong, independent, confident woman… most of the time. And yet there I was, tittering like a debutante, melting like spun sugar in August, utterly undone by the ardent attention of the Warrior’s lips at the slope of my throat.

Queen of the Night

A bead of drool caught the light at the corner of my lip. A lover’s malice. A delicious, sadistic deprivation. The sound wrenched from him at that denial fed something ravenous in me, even as I drew my tongue along my lips, even as the Woodsman surged behind.

Moonlight and Smoke

We moved as one, a tide of bodies, curves, and shadows, entwined in slow, fluid devotion. Kisses devoured and lingered, breaths mingling against skin, Smoke a shadowed current beneath us, Moonlight tracing the arches and hollows of every curve.

Category: Uncategorized