Whoa – that last batch of entries was smokin’. Grab an iced drink, a fan (you’re gonna need it!) and savor today’s offerings:
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From Darla over at She’s A Maineiac:
Sweets for My Sweetie
As far as Violet was concerned, her life began and ended on a hot muggy day in Savannah, Georgia, July 25, 2012.
The Clearview Baptist Church was stifling; even the cicadas normally buzzing about the open doors sought shade. All eyes were on her as Barney Sutter slipped the 2 carat ring on her trembling finger. He clasped her hands in his, perspiration dripping off his meaty paws. God, all he does is sweat, Violet thought. He’s so disgusting! She looked up into his eyes and offered up a sweet as honey smile. His eyes lingered again at her plunging neckline, hungrily devouring her like she was some midnight snack.
“…I know pronounce you, Man and Wife,” the pastor’s voice boomed, cutting through the soggy air. Well whaddya know, that rich bastard Barney Sutter married lil’ ol’ me…just a po’ girl from Atlanta! And if there’s one thing everyone knows about me–I always get what I want.
She sucked in her breath, bracing herself for the kiss, the beaded bodice of her dress squeezing tighter around her breasts. Barney mopped his bald head with his handkerchief and leaned in for the kill.
“Now, where you two lovebirds plannin’ on goin’ for yer honeymoon?” Barney’s mother asked, sneering at Violet over her champagne glass. Violet glared back at the old woman.
“Oh, now Momma, I told ya already, this sweet lil’ pumpkin’ of mine don’t want no fancy honeymoon!” Barney said, wrapping his arm around Violet and pulling her close. Underneath her dress, she felt his chubby hand tracing the inside of her thigh. “We just gonna lay low at Magnolia manor, let the movers do all the work. Once we settled, we can really start to feather up our love nest…ain’t that right, Pookie-Pie? Hell, maybe this time next year, they’ll be some pitter-patterin of little feet! The future president of Sutter Candies, Inc!” He laid his hand on her belly and gazed at her with the lovesick look of a bulldog. Violet felt nauseous. But she had to keep her eye on the prize.
Later that night, as Barney heaved himself on top of her, she closed her eyes to escape. She was seated at a banquet table that stretched for miles, an endless line of waiters delivering silver platters full of decadent confections: thick slices of Black Forest cake, hot fudge sundaes, pecan clusters enrobed in dark chocolate. She could almost taste the velvety sweetness on her tongue.
They had been married one full month when Violet knew she would have to make her big move during the factory tour. Standing next to her husband on the small platform perched above the main vat, she peered down into that day’s batch of Sutter’s White Chocolate. Her spine tingled as she watched the giant steel blades churning in an ivory ocean.
“Oh, sweetie,” she cooed into his ear. “Smell that! God, it’s like heaven to me!” Violet pushed her husband closer to the railing. “Please, just breathe it in…”
Barney obeyed, the frail platform shaking as he stepped closer.
“Unnngh!” Violet grunted as she shoved him toward the edge, the railing breaking apart under his massive frame. In mid-fall he turned, grabbing at her shoulder with one hand while reaching out for the railing with the other. Teetering on the edge with his grip starting to slip, he clutched at her necklace, twisting it until she started to choke.
“Let—–go!” she gurgled. She looked into his wild eyes and almost felt sorry for the fat son-of-a-bitch. Falling backward now, he clawed at her neck with both hands and pulled, plunging them both into the vat below.
Searing hot pain sliced through her body as the blades tossed it around like a rag doll; her screams muffled by the sticky chocolate filling her throat and lungs.
If there was one thing about Violet: she always gets what she wants.
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From Marta over at Lost and Forgotten:
“Like this,” she breathes.
Raising her hands above her head grasping at the tips of her dress, she lets the threads slowly rise across her body pushing past her ears and tumbling over her fingers. The white cotton fabric falls to the ground behind her. Her heels push forward as she rises on the tips of her toes and leans towards him. She places her hands at his hips on the bed.
Her lips to his ear, “your turn.”
He looks upon her, his pupils dilated. The warmth of his hazel eyes melts her insides. He has never looked at her this way.
Slowly he begins to unbutton his shirt, fumbling at each one as his hands shake with nerves. Her impatience begins to overtake her, the awkwardness of her standing there watching him. The room suddenly feels empty and too quiet. As the thoughts pour into her head she pushes them out.
She reaches for his hands and presses the clammy palms against her bare back. Places her knees at his side and sits upon him. She sweeps her long blonde hair behind her and it falls against his fingertips. She pushes her body against him until his back is cradled by the mattress. She slides down unbuttoning each button as her mouth circles the bare skin above.
His breath increases against her.
It is so hard for them to not think. To separate the want from the truth. His body on fire, he leans his head back and stares upon the ceiling fan above him. She drags her fingernails down his sides and across his hip bones pulling at his pants. She comes up to his face, her hands grappling at his belt buckle.
His eyes lock on hers. The blue and green irises he fell in love with swallowing him whole, he cups her chin with his hand and pulls her lips towards his. As they brush lightly against hers, her body freezes and her breath stagnates in her throat. A tear begins to slide down her cheek and as he kisses her deeper it touches his fingertips the cool wetness squeezing in between his hand and her face.
He pulls away.
She blinks the escaped tear away and pushes his hand against the bed whispering in his ear, “please.” Her hair catches in her lips and he brushes it away and tucks it behind her ear. She is so beautiful, he thinks as she lights up the room above him. The fan pushing cool air across their bodies in intervals. She pushes the belt buckle through and he raises his hips as she slips his pants under him.
He cradles her neck and kisses her closer, tighter, harder against him. His tongue seeking hers as she lets her body meld against his. He carefully lifts her and places her underneath him and kisses the tip of her nose, the crease of her neck, the crook of her elbow, his fingertips graze her chest as she lets a small squeal escape past her lips. His lift in a smile.
She pulls him up towards her, staring into his eyes, and whispers, “Now” while pressing her lips against his.
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And from Susie at Susie Lindau’s Wild Ride: (Visit here to see Susie’s entry on her blog)
The Art of Seduction
He traced his finger along her curves, only stopping to admire her strength and beauty. They fit together like tailored leather. Her opalescent skin, like pewter in the moonlight, gave the false impression of being as malleable as mercury, but a steely inner strength resonated from her core.
It was dangerous, yet the risk excited him.
He slipped inside and adrenaline filled him with a thrilling rush. He threw her into high gear and never looked back even though he knew they’d been found. He didn’t want it to end.
“It makes me sad to see a work of art like that wrapped around a tree.” The officer took notes as steam rose from the crumpled Jaguar.
“What about the carjacker?” asked the coroner.