Chapter 12 (c)

On my web surfing forays I’ve been searching things such as “I hate my own writing”, “Why are some writers so arrogant”, “Do you ever get sick of your own story”. You get the picture. Everything I pulled up again had the same theme. A very UN-unique theme. Just keep writing. Ug! I’m past that euphoric stage and just want to finish this damn thing. I love the second draft phase. In the second draft there is meat to work with. Add-ins that I thought of along the way and just noted in the first draft. I can’t wait to get to the second draft stage!


“A lady after my own heart,” The Inspector said with a quirk to his plush lips. “Mam it was my impression that we’d moved beyond formal address,” The inspector leaned back casually crossing his long legs at the ankles angling them closer to the fire. “In fact, “he continued folding his hands over his taught middle, “I believe we’d moved to such causal regard to be almost,” and he paused suggestively here, “scandalous.”

He regarded her with the feline grace of a hunter. One that’s known the scent of his prey and knows which bait works best to his advantage. It made Glorianna feel distinctly warm. His barley veiled words brought to mind all the naughty things he’d done to her last they’d met.

Glorianna tried to match his suggestive attitude with one of her own. “Indeed Clive,” she purred while pouring them both a finger of brandy. “We’ve gone far beyond that of casual acquaintance.” She took a provocative sip of her liqueur gazing at him over the rim of her glass as she let the heat slide down her thought. She delicately dipped her tongue out to lick the flavor from her bottom lip.

Clive leaned forward as if entranced. “Love I’d be more than happy to take this ‘conversation’ to mutual satisfaction.” He stood up gracefully with his surprisingly graceful fingers still wrapped around the glass. Glorianna thought he’d move straight to her but instead moved across the parlor to shut and lock the door.

Glorrianna swallowed dryly. Had she crossed this man off her list so soon? Perhaps he bore another chance? She felt herself heating and not from the fires proximity. Clive came to stand behind her and she felt one warm hand stroke the side of her neck. His fingers toying with a loose curl.

He leaned forward and she could feel the heat of his brandied breath on her cheek as he whispered in her ear. “Do you want to fuck me love?”

Glorrianna startled at the blatant suggestion but she was melting inside at his crudity. Oh how did he do that Glorianna wondered? A single sentence and she was ready to throw her skirts up again and with Vaughn just upstairs.

She would not feel shame at her reaction she thought. She wanted a lover. She needed a lover. Hadn’t she set out to capture just such a man a few weeks ago? But how could she conduct an affair when the one of the major reasons for wanting such a liaison was right upstairs? That thought put a damper on her lust.

She needed to find a way to get Clive to leave  and quickly. Before he found out more than she wanted him to. Before she gave into something that she didn’t have time for right now.

“Now Clive I would be a stupid woman indeed to give you what you took and sauntered away from not long ago.”

“Did you fancy a cuddle after then love?” He moved around to stand before her. With him standing and her still seated she was eye level with an impressively growing erection. Ah what a waste she thought.

“A girl does like a bit of affection after the fact Clive,” Glorrianna stood so she didn’t have to speak to the bulge in his pants. He didn’t back up as she had expected so she was virtually plastered against him.

He put his hands on her waist. His long fingers practically covering it’s circumference. Clive slowly glided his hands up her sides coming to rest just under her sensitized breasts. She was breathing heavier now with just the thought of those lovely fingers plucking at her tight nipples.

He brought his head down lowering his luscious lips to hers. The kiss was expected, anticipated. Clive gave her plenty of time to pull away. She found herself to wanton to do so. Those lips were mesmerizing.


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