Saturday, October 16, 2010

Storm in the Desert by S. Michael

Storm in the Desert

by S. Michael

Cover art: Angela Knight

ISBN: 978-1-60521-492-4

Genre(s): Paranormal

Length: Novella

Naomi's life is just what it should be. She has an adoring lover, a high-paying job, and all the right friends. She's also bored and feeling somewhat constrained by all this "normality." When she starts having dreams featuring her ex-lover Boston in full living detail, she isn't sure what to make of it. When those dreams turn into full blown life-like hallucinations, she's sure she's going crazy.

Artist Boston lives in the desert and he's been melancholic and unable to paint ever since Naomi left him. He misses her hot fire and fierce, wild presence in his life. With a little help from his Uncle Abe, and some judicious use of magic, he hopes to remind Naomi of what she's been missing ever since she left him.

Will his tampering with things metaphysical bring Naomi back to him? Or will it piss her off enough to keep her from ever wanting to see him again?

Storm in the Desert

S. Michael

All rights reserved.

Copyright ©2010 S. Michael

This e-book file contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language which some may find offensive and which is not appropriate for a young audience. Changeling Press E-Books are for sale to adults, only, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase. Please store your files wisely, where they cannot be accessed by under-aged readers.

People who didn't live in the desert didn't understand how huge the moon looked, how fat and heavy, like a spotlight in the blackness.

Naomi wandered, the sand still sending heat up through her sandals, even as the wind chilled her, the temperature dropping like a stone in the water. Her bare arms goosepimpled up, the little white sundress no protection at all from the sudden threat of a storm.

God, she hated storms. Hated them -- so wild, loud. The thunder used to be enough to drive her into her closet, her daddy's soft laugh always coming to save her, rescue her.

Of course, you couldn't live like that, could you? No. God, that's why she'd moved to LA. Part of the reason. Because it had scared her, the thought of leaving everything had terrified...

She frowned, looking around, looking for a light, a house, a road. She'd wandered too far.

Warmth slid along her belly and grabbed her hip, soft air at her ear blowing away the illusion of her dream. "You're dreaming again, Naomi."

Tony's -- no, Harry's -- other hand slid through her hair, gently petting.

She gasped, the slide of her body on Harry's satin sheets bringing her all the way awake. Harry -- her smart, classy, gentle Harry -- was smiling at her, blinking slowly. "Sorry. I didn't mean to wake you."

"They're getting worse," he said softly. His short brown hair was sleep-tousled, flat on one side and standing up on the other.

"It was just a dream. Not a nightmare." Not that any of them were nightmares. Just... disturbing.

"A dream that wakes you up night after night. When was the last time you didn't have it?"

Harry got up, stretching, body hairless, muscles smooth and sculpted. He padded over to the gilt armoire and opened it, and then the little bar inside it, pouring a finger of scotch and bringing it over to her.

"It's nothing." He had the most precise, perfect hands. Surgeon's hands. Insanely talented hands. She took the drink, shuddering as she sipped it, as it burned all the way down.

Tony hated when she drank hard liquor, said she should only drink wine because it made her giggly, made her hot, made her...

God damn it.

Sitting down next to her, Harry traced a finger beneath one of her eyes. "Are you sure? I hate to see you looking so tired."

"You hate seeing imperfections in anyone." Harry wanted to fix her nose, her chin, her breasts, make her beautiful.

"Especially in you, darling." He took the glass from her fingers and finished the shot before kissing her, lips smooth and warm against her own.

She opened to him, pushed close, licking the scotch out of his lips. Oh. Yeah. Come on. She needed to forget, to lose herself. His tongue slid along hers, dancing together in his mouth. His hands moved her back, warming her skin as they passed.

She hummed, floating a little, nipples going tight as they rubbed against Harry's chest. Just like that, lover. Harry's fingers found the bundle of nerves at the base of her spine, playing them perfectly, bringing her skin alive.

"Oh. More." She arched, legs parting, sliding against Harry's, against the sheets. More.

"So sensual." He pushed her back against the sheets, hands moving around to slide up to her breasts, cupping them in those perfect hands.

Her nipples were tight, aching, needing him to touch her harder, make her feel it. His thumbs moved slowly, circling her nipples but not touching as his tongue slid along her neck.

Her hair came loose from its braid as her head tossed, bright red curls going everywhere. So gentle. Almost a tease. Tony had always pushed her, made her feel so much, almost too much, those dark eyes staring into her, artist's fingers painting her skin.

Finally, one thumb slid across her nipple, flicking, coming back to flick again and then pressing.

Naomi gasped, nodded. "Yes. Yes, just like that. Good."

"No, I think you like this better." Harry's mouth continued its downward journey, lips wrapping around one of her nipples and tugging.

Her fingers tangled in his hair, legs shifting and spreading as heat flooded her.

"God, you're so sexy."

She could feel the heat of his erection against her thigh, his hips rubbing against her.

"More. More, lover. Please." She reached down, fingers pushing between them, wrapping around his cock. Oh. Oh, she wanted.

Harry gasped and started fucking her hand. "Impatient." Still, one of his hands moved over her belly and down to tease over the shaved skin between her legs, shaved for him.

"Hungry." She pushed up, wanting his fingers on her clit, in her pussy, spreading her wide. "Just hungry."

"Always are after the dreams." He slid two fingers inside her, his thumb finding her clit, pressing hard before the touch softened, teased across the bundle of nerves over and over.

"Always am." She couldn't help it. The things she saw -- Tony bending her over the table and making her scream, Tony painting her nipples, flicking her clit with his brush...

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