Writing

Tease Me Thursday

/ Jen Bradlee / 4 Comments

Here’s a little number from a scene I’d written.  It’s not finished yet, but it was inspired by the Sherlock episode Scandal in Belgravia.  *wink*

**Warning: Explicit language and possibly offensive material…possibly. Just warning you.**

 

Then he saw her. Her auburn hair hung loose over her shoulders, grazing the cream silk shirt she wore. The secretary skirt did nothing to hide the curve of her hips or the long expanse of leg topped off with fuck me heels. She scanned the dining room.

He quickly lifted the newspaper, hiding his face. As he lowered it a bit, he saw her get a plate of eggs, a slice or two of bacon, some fruit and a cup of tea. He watched as she sat and ate alone in the corner. Her eyes took in everything. He shifted in his seat. He hoped to God she didn’t recognize him.

Once she’d finished her tea, she deposited her dishes in the receptacle and made her way to the ladies room.

William seized the opportunity and moved to another seat in the dining area. He opened his paper, pretending to read, when he heard the distinct click of heels on tile.

“You’re not being very discreet, darling,” she whispered in his ear.

He should have been prepared for her words.

“You haven’t turned the page for the last half hour.”

“Excuse me?” he said, deliberately turning the page and refusing to look at her. She stood behind his chair. Damn. He should have stayed by the window.

“You’ve been staring at the same page for over half an hour,” she said with a chuckle. It brushed across his sensitive earlobe. He closed his eyes and swallowed hard. Her skin smelled of lemons and jojoba oil.

“I heard you,” he said, clearing his throat. “What do you want?”

“I’m not the one pretending to read the paper.” Her breath brushed against his skin, feathering the delicate hairs on the base of his neck. “Yesterday’s paper, nonetheless.”

He folded the paper and plopped it onto the seat next to him, agitated he’d make such a trivial mistake. She shouldn’t have even been able to recognize him, the disguise had been perfectly planned down to the last detail. There was no reason to fret about it now. He knew better than to underestimate her.

“Would you care to join me?” he asked, forgoing all pretenses.

“Come along, darling,” she said. The words echoed soft in his ear as she moved away taking her scent and her delicious heat with her.

He turned in time to see her disappear around the corner. With a sigh, he stood and followed just moments behind. A small office sat with the door open. He glanced inside and found her perched on the edge of the desk, her legs crossed, tapping a solitary fingernail on the wooden surface. He entered the room, closing the door behind him and sliding the deadbolt home.

A wicked smile revealed her even white teeth. He wanted to bite her, eat her up, and show her what it meant to be devoured piece by piece until your soul is exposed and bleeding. Instead, he stood with three feet between them and shoved his hands into his pockets.

“Well.” He waited.

She leaned forward, allowing her shirt to bunch in the front, exposing just enough of her cleavage to pull his gaze downward for a split second. When he met her eyes again, they were sparkling with amusement.

“You missed me.”

His hand absently reached for his collar, tugging at it.

She slipped from the desk and took a step closer to him, her heels matching their heights. He met her, eye to eye, refusing to be swayed by the chemical reaction heating his blood.

“What are you doing?”

“Nothing, darling.” Her words caressed his lips. The hot cinnamon of the gum she recently chewed lingered on her breath. She traced her fingertip along his collar. “A priest now, are you?”

“You know I’m not.”

Her finger trailed along his black button down shirt, and she pressed her palm to his heart. “Can I make my confessions, Father?”

He focused on his mission, the one thing he had to do. Her touch drove his mind into overdrive, her words blurring his thoughts.

Her green eyes blazed with unspoken desires. Today wasn’t going how he’d anticipated. Maybe dressing as a priest had been a bit of stretch, but he thought perhaps she’d overlook him, push the image of a passive priest reading the paper to the back of her mind. No, she’d locked on him like a heat seeking missile on a volcano. Fuck.

 

Comments and thoughts welcome. Thanks for stopping by! 🙂

❤ Jen

Tease Me Thursday

/ Jen Bradlee / 2 Comments

So I’ve decided to post a little teaser from my Work In Progress (WIP)…which is appropriately named considering the story and the character I’m writing about.

Without further ado…I present Prince Crispin.

**Warning: Vulgar language and sexual acts may be contained in this Teaser…that’s why it’s a teaser. You have been warned, carry on.**

 

“Be a good girl,” he said, tapping the slender whip on the edge of the bed. “Put your feet up. Let me see you spread bare for me.”

“Yes, my lord.” She lifted her legs and clasped her arms around them. Her smooth ass and swollen lips stood stark against the dark blankets on the bed.

“Very nice,” he said, appraising her with a smile crooked on his mouth. He ran the whip down the length of her leg and over her ass. “Now count to ten for me.” He brought the whip down across her bottom, eliciting a shriek from her followed by a moan of pleasure.

“One,” she said, her voice a small whimper. He brought the whip down again. “Two.”

He smiled at the flush of pleasure consuming her body. “Lovely.” He smacked the whip against her flesh again and again, each time harder than the last.

“Three…four…five…” She shrieked and moaned.

His cock was hard, straining against his trousers, aching to be released. When she reached ten, he put the whip down.

“On your knees,” he said, reaching for his belt. She scrambled to her knees, thrusting her ass in the air.

A knock sounded through the chamber. He frowned. How many times had he told them to leave him alone after dinner?

“I will not be disturbed,” he shouted.

“My lord,” a voice echoed through the solid wooden door. “Your father wishes to speak with you straight away.”

He glanced at the door, willing it to burst into flames.

“My lord,” the voice came again.

“I’m coming,” he yelled, tossing the whip down. He glanced at the naked wench on his bed. “Cover yourself.”

 

Want more?  Check back next week for another taste of my Prince of Whispers.

@–/—- ❤   Jen

Writing Process

/ Jen Bradlee / 2 Comments

Chris Musgrave, you flatter me, sir. While Chris embraces his dark side by writing horror, I tend to embrace my sensual side and write romance…well romantic erotica to be specific. It’s a fine line between romance and erotica. I also like to focus on the darker side of romance, the forbidden pleasures of the flesh, all the while being sure to incorporate elements of love into the process. So no, it’s not all about the sex; it’s about the journey of sensual discovery.

I’ve been remiss in posting since the A-Z Blog Challenge, for that I apologize. But twenty-six posts in a row is enough to fry anyone’s brain. Especially when mine focused on Loki…*purrs like a contented kitten*. Wait, where was I? Oh, yes, writing process post…forgive me, it seems my muse has decided to participate in the daily torture of my creative process.

Chris has requested I answer four questions:

  • What am I working on at the moment?
  • How does my work differ from others of its genre?
  • Why do I write what I do?
  • How does my writing process work?

Then came the catch: find three worthy writers and force them to answer the same questions. I have no idea who I should nominate who hasn’t been already, so I’m not tagging anyone, and you can’t make me. *sticks tongue out* I do what I want.

Now, moving on darlings, I have quite a full day here…Must remain focused.

What am I working on at the moment?

I’m working on a medieval romantic erotica tale. I haven’t decided if it’s a series of novellas or a novel, those details are to be determined at a later date (as in once I’ve finished writing it all down.)

Now, the idea for this story was born of the Dirty Loki Whispers. I’ll confess it now, I like them. Sue me. But they sparked some whispers of their own in my mind. So I began writing them down and realized…they weren’t Loki. The delightful whispers came from a medieval prince, Crispin. He soon became a frequent resident of my thoughts and thus his story demanded to be told.

I am at his mercy…and I like it. Don’t send help.

How does my work differ from others of its genre?

I have no idea. I’d like to think I’m unique. Most romantic erotica or general erotica stories have a contemporary setting. Mine…well, not so much. I gravitate toward historical. I think that sets my stories apart.

While I try to be historically accurate, I do take artistic license. Isn’t that the point of fiction though? *grins*

Why do I write what I do?

I like romance, I love sex, and I’m passionate about writing. So why not combine all three and write what I would WANT to read. Plus it’s illegal to kidnap people and force them to act out your fantasies. So there’s that conundrum. *teasing* Don’t take life too seriously, you’ll never get out alive.

In all honesty, I write what my characters tell me to write. A spark, an idea takes root and I let it grow, shaping it into something precious and unique. It’s a curse some times, having all those characters inhabit your brain, fighting for your attention. And to make it worse, my sexy imagination often takes things to the next level. Is it hot in here? Oh no, that’s just my characters plotting their next tryst. *giggles*

How does my writing process work?

What works for me is just sitting my butt in the chair and writing. I do writing sprints with prompts to get my brain in gear. I also enjoy writing with other writers while on Skype. It forces me to be productive, and they hold me accountable. Sometimes whips are involved.

I do use a basic outline, so I have a general direction for the story. But I allow a lot of free reign for my characters to show me their journey. When I let them speak, it often comes out more naturally than if I try to strong arm them into compliance. Crispin is often amused by my attempts to dominate him.

Ultimately, I wish I could write more and at a faster pace, but I’m truly blessed with the small community of writer’s I’ve surrounded myself with because they push me to constantly improve my craft.

 

You can find my group here: http://thesarcasticmuse.com

 

We also have a page of writing prompts that post daily: http://thesarcasticmuse.tumblr.com