“Miss Cherry” is the title of a short story I am currently writing. Below is a brief excerpt. It is (obviously) an erotic romance. A while back, I posted another excerpt…if you’d like to catch up.
The greatest injury Freddy Cruz inflicted on his wife, Leona, did not come from his shameless adultery. It was not the way he snuck around with other women on the afternoons when Leona went to work at the bakery, nor the way he often came home late, the odor of alcohol and other women’s sex embedded in his clothing. It was, instead, the way he withheld himself from her, the way he withdrew from her affections, depriving her of the intimacy she craved from a lover. It was a slow, subtle kind of starvation that left Leona feeling she might never be more than partially a woman.
Freddy wouldn’t learn how many nights a crumpled Leona lay next to him crying herself to sleep, praying for God to give her the courage to rid herself of him, and to bring a man into her life who would love her passionately. It was on Monday, the third of May, in the early hours of the morning, while Leona was doing laundry, that she came across her sister’s monogrammed shawl tangled up with a pair of soiled panties, still fresh from Freddy’s conquest. In that moment, she decided she could no longer wait for God. Leona Cruz would reclaim herself.
What Leona needed was a man who could match her in intensity. A man who wrangled with life, who was brazen in his passions, a man who burned. She found that man in Lonzo. As she made the steep climb to the precipice of Élan’s highest point on that smoldering, spring afternoon, Leona envisioned the builder walking by her side, his rugged frame the perfect compliment to her own slender contours. It was true that she’d only spoken to Lonzo twice, but alone with her thoughts of him, Leona began to feel powerful again, powerful in her fantasies, even prodigal in her desires. Her lust was growing so strong that it threatened to break her out of her fragile shell. Her prudishness was falling away. She walked a little straighter, wore her hair a little longer, let her hips sway a little more freely.
Even that afternoon, as she stretched herself along the edges of the cliffs, Leona felt full in herself. She chose a quiet spot that allowed her to angle her body toward the sun, where she could be alone with her thoughts, and where the crashing of the seas was loud enough to drown out the noises of a nearby campsite.
As Leona pressed her body against the jagged earth, a breeze swept her purple linen dress just over the tops of her dark thighs. When she closed her eyes, Lonzo was there, as he always seemed to be, extending his long, muscular body next to hers, one hand grazing her cheek, as his lips landed firmly on her mouth. Upon tasting him, her body was engulfed by a sense of desire so vast and so urgent that she had no choice but to succumb to it.
With her right hand, Leona reached up and cradled one of her breasts, its fullness expanding under the weight of her palm. She teased one dark nipple, releasing a soft moan as it hardened between her fingertips, the rest of her body slowly awakening to her own dainty caresses.
Lonzo’s hot breath lingered on her neck, as his mouth moved over the length of her body, from her breasts down to her belly, his large hands grasping her waist and thrusting her hips up to meet him, while his tongue traveled from her navel to her dark trimmed pussy. Leona’s left hand had made its way to the inside of her thigh, fingers working their way underneath the cloth of her pink panties, already moistening. With eyes closed, she passed her fingers along the lines of her skin, skimming the curves of her lips, exploring her insides, imagining that, with her fingers, she was carefully tracing the path of Lonzo’s tongue. In some ways, she was still discovering her body’s secrets. With the tip of her middle finger, Leona pressed gently on her clit. She moaned aloud, her strong thighs quivering as if from the electricity of the sun.
She continued to press and flick and rub until her fingers settled into a rhythm that made her body feel like she was on fire. Lonzo knelt in front of her, her legs lazily apart, lips parted, a small breeze cooling the damp skin beneath her shaking fingers. He arched himself over her, one hand guiding his cock to her, seeking her, its girth threatening to split her wide open.
Every inch of her being could feel the heaven of his lightly tanned, feral body devouring her in deliberate strokes. He sated her. He consumed her. Leona’s moaning grew louder, the sounds of her own pleasure deepening her arousal. Her dress had been yanked above her belly, revealing the soft curves of a nearly naked frame. As her right hand continued to alternate between her tingling breasts, two fingers plunged deep inside her pussy, hips grinding gently against the force of her palm. Her insides grew taut, as Lonzo’s pounding became more and more incessant. He grunted eagerly, forcing her knees back onto her chest, as she felt a familiar wave of release wash over her writhing body, the echoes of her fevered moaning sending shocks through the pulse of that slow-burning afternoon.