Saturday, August 31, 2013

Dear Jon - Chapter # 5

Hello all! My name is V.L. Locey.  I am a self-published and traditionally published author that lives in the mountains of Pennsylvania with my husband of over twenty-one years, my daughter who is seventeen, a herd of dairy goats, chickens, geese, ducks, turkeys, two dogs, two cats, and a partridge in a pear tree. For more info and links about me and my work, check out the Bio tab up above.

Being a fan of music – and many other things - from the 40`s I thought it would be keen to include the links to the songs mentioned in this story. Here`s Bing Crosby and The Andrew Sisters singing Don`t Fence Me In.  Feel free to play them as you read for atmosphere or wait until you’re done.


Dear Jon

Chapter Five


V.L. Locey


                They say confessing is good for the soul. I`ll confess that I had thoughts of putting my nephew in the rumble seat just so I wouldn`t have to deal with him looking at me with Betty`s disapproving green eyes. I didn`t let him ride in the back though. He was sitting on his calves turning the radio knob. His bow tie was crooked. I wondered if Mrs. Bartlett had dressed him. The kid looked uncomfortable. Just like me. Our ties were choking us. I tugged mine off and tossed it to the floor. Andy paused in the musical selections.

                “I hate ties,” I said, pulling onto Main Street. It was after six and the sidewalks had been rolled up. “You want yours off?” I asked, pulling up to the only traffic light. Andy nodded and hastily tugged the clip-on from his stiff collar. I nodded approvingly. The dark green tie joined mine on the floor. Andy went back to searching. We left the bustling town behind, weaving along on dirt roads shaded by apple, black walnut, white birch and oak trees. Bing and The Andrew Sisters were lamenting fencing. I knew how they felt. I could feel all kinds of barriers starting to be built around me.

                Andrew slid off his legs, his shiny dress shoes bouncing up and down on the seat in time with the western tune. I cleared my throat.

                “You like cowboys?” I asked, the Ford bouncing along like a clown jalopy, her suspension ill-suited for country roads. Route Six would look – and feel - really good once we got to it. The kid didn`t reply and I didn`t push him. He had just lost his mother to-

                I didn`t know what killed her. I hadn`t asked. I threw a look at Andy. No, I couldn`t ask him. I reached into my breast pocket and tugged my pack of Pall Mall`s out. I couldn`t get the smoke lit fast enough. My exhalation was large. Andrew coughed lightly. I rolled down the window. Betty didn`t smoke, or hadn`t anyway when I left Hannity Hills. She found it distasteful. I guess even the righteous tumble from their pedestals. Andrew was living proof that my older sister wasn`t the Virgin Mary she always tried to come off as being.

                Route Six appeared and none too soon. My poor coupe was close to losing a fender. The highway was smooth under the worn tires. Neither of us spoke. We passed a long white barn with hundreds of small glass squares. The stench of manure rolling in the window made my eyes sting. The memories of driving past this place to head to the lake to fish with dad rose up like a Kodiak bear in the road. It was unexpected and huge and ferocious. The warmth of those outings with dad and Betty (mom`s uterine cancer had taken her a few years before our yearly fishing trips began) clawed at my guts with the same veracity as a bruin. Another match found the end of another Pall Mall, the flame quivering violently as I battled that emotional bear.

                “So, Uhm, where`s your house?” I asked after the poultry farm fell into the distance, nothing more than a withered memory in my rearview. If I was right this stretch of Route Six was nothing but old mining camps that had been renovated into homes or hunting lodges.

                Andy pointed at a small blue house with white shutters. I crept off the highway. The yard was tidy and surrounded with a nice white picket fence. Flowers were planted on the outside and around the base of the mailbox. Ground stone crunched under the tires as I pulled up under a weeping willow whose drooping branches skimmed over the car roof. Andrew was out before I had the car parked, his door left open but his steel toys clutched to his skinny chest. An overwhelming urge to sit here and smoke and weep overtook me, but I pushed my door open and stepped out.

                Two white geese appeared from the rear of the house, wings out and necks low to the ground. I had seventeen seconds to climb up onto the hood of my car before the web-footed attackers waddled over. There I sat, legs tucked into my chest, waving my hat at the miserable birds when Andrew came running around the side of the bungalow. He stared at my predicament. I called for assistance. The fucking geese were making so much racket a Panzer unit could have rolled up and not been heard.

                “Can I get a little help here?!” I shouted louder, swatting at the bigger of the two. The gander ripped my hat from my hand then ran away, honking and shaking my Fedora as his wife honked in goosey praise of his accomplishment. Andy didn`t seem to fear the geese. He waltzed up and snapped the hat back from the gander. The goose nibbled at the seam of his pants then they moseyed back to whatever hell spawned her and her mate.

“Thanks,” I murmured, sliding down to the nicely mowed little yard.

“George and Gracie don`t like strangers,” Andrew said, threw my hat at me and then ran inside without a backwards glance.

I had to think the geese weren`t the only ones not fond of strangers.


Friday, August 30, 2013

Surrender & Savation

Ten years ago Skye Monroe left St. Francisville and David Kincaid just as his career was taking off. Now she’s back to take photographs of the bad boy Country superstar on sabbatical as he tries to rehab his image and career. She could have turned down the assignment, but she didn’t. Was it curiosity, the need for closure or something more that brought her home? Whatever the reason, she can’t deny the fire he still ignites within her with just a look, but is she willing to give him another chance?

David Kincaid’s life started to unravel the day he got his record deal, which also happened to be the day Skye Monroe walked out on him. Since then no amount of fame, fortune or women can fill the void she left behind. When she suddenly appears on his door step for a magazine shoot, looking and sexy as ever, he realizes he’s willing to do whatever it takes to win her back. But is it too late to salvage their relationship and what’s left of his career?

Read Part One - Homecoming - here
Read Part Two - Revelations - here

Read Part Three -Memories - here
Read Part Four - Declaration - here

Read Part Five - Surrender - here
Read Part Six - Reciprocity - here
Read Part Seven - The Proposal - here

Read part Eight - Mine - here


David ushered her out of the pub and tucked her into the back of a waiting cab. Skye sat quietly, staring at the small crowd that had followed them out as David rounded the back of the cab and slid in next to her. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pressed a kiss to her temple.

“Il Forno or home?” He whispered against her hair.

“Home, please,” she murmured as she glanced down at her trembling hands.

Ugh!  Never in her life had she physically struck another person in anger, much less jealously, but seeing that lecherous hag groping David’s privates, had raised an ire and a possessiveness within her she’d never before felt. And, even though she initially walked away, the vision of the red taloned hand grabbing David’s crotch coupled with the look of hurt and helplessness in his eyes, screamed at her to turn back and deal with the situation, as she should have done ten years ago.

David gave her another quick peck and then instructed the cab driver where to take them, before leaning back and pulling her to him. He captured her left hand in his, lifting it to his lips and kissed each one of her pink, quickly swelling knuckles.

“We’d best put some ice on your hand when we get home. It will help with the swelling,” he said, gently setting her hand on his thigh, covering it with his own.

The warmth of his hand soothed not only the throbbing ache from knuckles, but also her fragged nerves. She sighed softly and collapsed against his shoulder.

“Ugh, David, I can’t believe I hit her,” she groaned.

“I know. Your redneck was on full display tonight, Skye,” David snorted and then snickered at the stunned look Skye shot him. “Seriously, baby, it was awesome. She deserved it. She was kind of rough with Little Dave and the rodeo clowns.”

Despite the chaotic feelings swirling in the pit of her stomach, Skye she couldn’t help but laugh out loud. “How long have you been calling them that?”

“Oh, forever,” he said, shooting her a wicked grin. “I guess you’ve just never been formally introduced.”

Skye blinked as she shook her head and laughed, but then sobered. Shifting in the seat to face him, she gently stroked his cheek with her free hand. He always had a way of pulling her out of a sour mood. “Thank you.”

He winked at her, but gave her a quizzical look. “For what?”

“For being you. For making me laugh,” she shrugged and let out a heavy sigh before turning to look out the window. “For not forgetting about me after I walked out on you, even though you should have.”

Skye bit down on her bottom lip in an effort to hold back the tears that suddenly clouded her vision. A wave of relief washed over her as the cab pulled up to the entrance of her condo complex. The last thing she wanted was to have the discussion of their relationship turn into an episode of Cabbie Confessional. As the doorman opened the passenger side door, Skye slid out and waited as David paid and tipped the driver.

Once inside the elevator, David pressed the button for the sixteenth floor and then turned and pressed her up against the wall.  As he claimed her mouth, Skye felt that familiar liquid heat flow through her. His tongue dipped into her mouth, coaxing and teasing hers to dance. She melted into him, threading her fingers through his dark chocolate waves, pulling him closer. God, how had she gone without him for so many years? She thought she was happy. Fulfilled. She loved her career, had an awesome core group of friends. She didn’t mind being single, really.

Of course, that was before she’d gone back to Louisiana, and found that she was still hopelessly in love with David Kincaid. Seeing him again, making love to him was like finding that one perfect missing piece of the jigsaw puzzle and snapping it into place. There were many pieces of similar shape and size, but only one would ever fit. David was her missing piece.

He pulled his lips away from hers as he pulled her right hand to his chest, resting it over his heart. “Do you feel that Skye? That’s you. I’ve carried you there since the first day we met in high school. Everything I’ve ever done, good and bad, is because of you. Lord knows I tried to wash you away with alcohol, but I couldn’t. I could never forget you. You’re my heart, soul and salvation, baby girl. I’ll go to my grave loving you.”

Skye knew trying to speak was useless thanks to the golf ball size lump of emotion blocking her windpipe. Thankfully, the elevator chimed, signaling their arrival to the sixteenth floor and the doors slid open.

They walked in silence down the corridor to her condo. Once inside, Skye kicked off her heels and dropped her purse on the hall tree. She sensed an odd shift in David’s mood. Not bad, just edgy. Maybe the evening’s events were finally catching up to him.

He brushed past her and walked into the kitchen. Digging through the freezer, he withdrew an ice pack, and wrapped it in a dish towel before handing it to her.

“Why don’t you sit and let the ice do its job while I slip into something more comfortable,” he grinned as he waggled his brows at her.

She laughed softly and plopped down on the couch. “Go. I’ll be fine.”

She watched him saunter off down the hall before turning her attention to the flashing red light on her answering machine. Pressing the play button, she laid her head back on the cushions and propped her swollen left hand and the ice pack on her knee.

Hey Skye, it’s Linda. I tried your cell phone but you must have turned it off. I don’t really blame you, but I just wanted to let you know that TMZ already got wind of your throw down with the red-headed skank, so you’re probably all over their website by now. The troll was more than willing to give an interview, but after she hit on the camera guy, they pretty much took everything she had to say with a grain of salt, so I think you and David are ok. You did good standing up to her tonight. I didn’t know you had it in you. I guess it just took the right guy to bring it out. David’s awesome, by the way. I’m glad you found each other.  (voices and laughter in the background) I’m coming! I’m leaving a message for Skye. Ok, girlie, I gotta go. We’ll talk in the morning. Love yaz.

Fan-fucking-tastic. Skye groaned as she lifted her head slightly to see David standing a few feet from her, hands on his hips, sporting an amused smirk. He was bare-chested, wearing a well-worn pair of sweats that hung low on his hips. He, as usual, looked edible. She assumed he’d heard the message, so why he was smiling was beyond her comprehension. This sort of thing did nothing to help rehab his image. Even if he wasn’t directly involved in the fight, he was the catalyst for it.

“Well, that’s just freakin’ awesome. I’m so sorry, David. This is the last thing you need right now. Your Dad is going to kill me.”

He knelt on the carpet in front of her and snorted. “My dad loves you. As my manager he’s not going to care one iota about what happened tonight, that’s what I have a publicist for. He’s just happy you’re back in my life. And as for me, I could give a fuck. I’ve done worse and had worse written about me. Now, let me see your hand.”

She sat up as he slid the ice pack off her hand. Although his touch was gentle, she winced as he took her hand in his.

“It’s sore, huh? Let’s see if you can bend and wiggle your fingers,” he said, wincing a little as he watched her gingerly comply. “Good. I didn’t think anything was broken. You’re a little thing, but you’re pretty tough. I tell you what, why don’t we try to get that ring off your middle finger.”

Skye looked down at the engagement ring. She’d decided at the last minute to wear it, but felt odd about showing up to the party suddenly engaged, so she opted to wear it on her middle finger. Now, in retrospect, she wished she hadn’t been so weird about it. Once again, she had put her feelings ahead of David’s. When was she going to learn?

As she carefully wiggled it off her finger, she gasped. “Oh my God, David, I hit that woman square in the jaw with this ring. I must have left a divot!”

“You did, Skye. I saw it. Which got me thinking,” David grinned as he took the engagement ring from her and tucked it in his left pocket while reaching into his right, withdrawing the biggest solitaire Skye had ever seen. “I doubt it will, but should a situation like that ever come up again, you might need something that will leave a bigger impression,” he winked. “Do you think you can put it on?”

Skye nodded. She had never seen anything as beautiful as the ring David held out to her. Her hand was trembling as he started to slip it on her middle finger, but she jerked her hand back.

“Oh, baby, I’m sorry. Did I hurt you?”

“No, you didn’t,” she whispered, as she lifted her gaze to meet his. “It’s just that an engagement ring doesn’t go on the middle finger, dummy,” she smiled and held out her hand to him once again. “It goes on the next one over.”

David drew in a sharp breath. “Is that what this is, baby girl…an engagement? Are you finally saying yes?”

She nodded and winced as he slipped the ring on the proper finger. “I love you, David. I’m just sorry I wasted so much time.”

David slid up onto the couch next to her and wrapped her in his arms. “We’re here now, Skye. That’s all that matters. So, what do you say we seal the deal?” He asked, his eyes twinkling.

“I thought the ring did that,” She eyed him curiosity.

He grinned. “Well, yes it does, but seeing as how we’re now officially engaged, I think it’s time you were formally introduced to Little Dave and the…”

“Oh, David, stop!” She cut him off with a swat and erupted into a fit of giggles as he scooped her off the couch and carried her to the bedroom.

As he laid her back against the pillows, she looked up and smiled. Their time apart hadn’t extinguished their love. If anything, it had made it stronger. She knew, without a shadow of a doubt, the man kneeling before her cherished her, as much as she did him. He always had. When he lowered himself down, capturing her lips in a reverent kiss, she vowed never to doubt their love...his love again.

Wednesday, August 28, 2013

The Dom's Diary: Cypher Text

It's one of those bittersweet moments, the kind you look forward to and  yet it makes you sad.  This is the last  post for The Dom's Diary.  Abyrne will be taking some time off to work on his book deals that he signed!  YAY!  This means you can read more from him soon!  
But don't abandon our Wednesday posts just yet, we have something up our sleeve that I think you'll all enjoy.  

The Dom's Diary: Cypher Text
Abyrne Mostyn

            She was here when I arrived home, I knew it the minute I had walked in.  The day had run long, but not overly so.  I could smell the crisp notes of sea spray and sand from a fragrance she favored.  I had asked her to wear it.  I needed the respite from the dank of the city and the illusion of the coast would work.
Beta had met me at the door, tail wagging his hind quarters in a full show of affection and undeniable happiness.  I loved coming home to this dog.  The day could take me to the razor’s edge of wanting to slit mine and other’s throats and Beta would just stand at the door and all but soil the floor in happiness because I’d arrived.  Was I a sodding bastard because I wanted a woman who did the same?  I truly didn’t think so.
Lucy would be a dream to come home to every night if she were willing to give up her carefree and the other women.  She was Marilyn Monroe with soft brown locks and a libido that hadn’t said ‘no’ that I could recall.  Prompt, punctual, eager to please, and willing and able to cum on command; and that was just five of her assets.  She would never settle down though.  She loved as she wanted and went whichever way the wind blew her.  I suppose I should count my blessings that she came when I called.  I had thought often about entertaining her and one of her gal pals, but had decided against it as I was fairly certain that my territorial nature would kick up and ruin it all.
Clearing the foyer and part of the main hall, she was right where I had asked her to be, just as I had asked her to be…waiting for me.  Watching Cla’vis display the other night had been an exercise in torture.  She was free with her display and obviously enjoyed anal play.  I had thought, before I had taken time to think, that I’d return the favor to her soon, but I had realized that same night as I stood on the pier that Cla’vis and I were only dancing, and the music would eventually come to an end.
Snapped back to the moment, I had taken a deep inhale of Lucy’s scent and knew I was not with Cla’vis.  Only Lucy could smell like this and I was not so far gone to think of another when I was with someone.  That was a line I would not cross.
I stood in the doorway to the small space of my home office, drinking her in as she leaned over my desk, the handle to the anal key glinting between her rounded cheeks with the crackles of fire from the hearth as the flames licked at the dry tinder she had lit there.  She was water to my parched soul as I had stood and simply let my eyes roam her figure.  She hadn’t moved, though I knew she was aware of my arrival.  Beta’s tapping on the tile and soft howls would have alerted her to my presence.
As always, she was exactly as I had requested her to be.  Tall enough in her heels to be the right height, hair up off her neck, her skin had glowed rosy from the recent buffing in the shower that she had taken when she arrived.  She had worn nothing save the item I had requested.  I had trailed my hands down her back and over the luscious curves of her hips before giving the key a turn and walking off to have a shower of my own. 
Returning a short while later, she was exactly where I had left her.  Walking around the desk to see her face, she had worn a smug smile, knowing she had done well and I was pleased. 
“I see you wore your key.”
“As you requested Sir.”
“Tell me girl, did you do as else I requested?”
“Everything is as you wish it to be Sir.”
“Good girl.  How should I reward you first?”
“As you wish to reward me Sir.”
“A very good answer.”
I had taken her hands, which she had merely rested on the surface to the edge nearest me, fixing her fingertips over the carved lip before moving around to the opposite side behind her.  Still in my towel, I had dropped to my knees on the soft foam she had placed as directed, sliding my hands up the backs of her thighs to knead at her cheeks.  The small puckers of flesh ran in dots up her legs ahead of, and behind the trail of my fingers.  Pushing down on the small of her back to force a greater arch to her hips, I had kicked her feet a bit wider with my knees.  The tiny fist of her ass had grabbed tight to the key and flexed around it as I positioned her.
Leaning in, I had lapped at the tight accordion with darting flicks of my tongue, pulling the cheeks of her wider to get the whole of my face between them.  The tang of metal was not what I had hoped for and while visually pleasing, it was not a taste I wanted.  Pulling back, I removed the key from its pocket…slowly.  It finally popped free and I set it aside before resuming my rimming of her, spearing my tongue forward to replace the key in the small void its removal had left.  The fine sheen of perspiration dotted up her back and released the ocean scent around her.  I continued my consumption of her flavors, drawing the scent in and letting my mind travel beyond this room.
I had lost track of time.  Neither of us had seemed to mind.  I was only remotely aware of it as I noticed her scent changing over from warm beach to something the same but also different.  There was a distinct air of fresh cunt mixed with the heated water and summer smell she had been wearing.  Threading my hand up between her legs, I had run an index finger straight up her core, finding the strand of pearls tucked neatly within, giving them a stir before adding a second finger.
I could feel the contraction of the kegel muscles around my fingers and the slide of the pearls against the walls of her sheath before she released.  Only once, as instructed, she didn’t move otherwise.  Thrusting faster with my tongue, I felt myself winding tighter, but I wanted to savor her thoroughly so I did a bit of flexing of my own to stay the hard on I was gaining from the taste of Lucy.  I had known when she was close by the soft mewling she was no longer in control of.  Shushing her to quiet, I knew she was fighting to be compliant.  She was losing.
Pulling back, I had run my hands back down her thighs, sorry to be letting go of her ass as I was fighting the urge to stand and fuck her just where she was.  I had something else in mind when I had called her though, and she had come prepared for the play that I had suggested.  I could always claim her ass later.  Tapping her legs to shift as I commanded, she was the pinnacle of efficiency in her movements, knowing exactly what I wanted.
“Up girl.  Show me that pretty pussy is wet and ready for me.”
She hadn’t spoken, but had turned over and hopped back in one fluid movement.  I was surprised to see that glorious snatch of hers had been shaved clean.  She had always been well groomed, but this was new.  I approved and leaned down to bite her just above the apex as she was settling her legs, additionally pleased by the soft hitch of a gasp.
“For me?”
“Not originally no, but freshly today for you Sir.”
I could see the trails of cream that had run across her lips and the iridescence of it clinging to her soft folds.
“I approve.”
Moving her feet to rest on the arms of the chairs on either side of me, I was further impressed at the thorough job she had done.  Not a single hair remained.  All I was looking at was a shiny, naked pussy with a pearl peeking out from within the center of her.  She scooted her hips toward the edge of the desk without being told to do so, though I would not balk at it as it aided my quest.  Leaning back in I had taken a long, dragging lick up the center of her from tail to top, suckling the button at the cleft, savoring the throb of it against my tongue.  The tips of her breasts were pebbled tight and hefted with each breath she took.  They were not pants yet, but they were shorter than they had been when we had begun.
Settling in, I had enjoyed catching the trails of nectar that had run unchecked against my tongue and chin, teasing her clit on random passes to the peak.  Her breathing had increased and shallowed.  I had then pushed her knees wider and set to the task I had asked for.  One by one I had sucked, or speared my tongue forward to grab, each tiny pearl, running them up the sensitive center fold before grabbing the next on the strand.  Her milky release was thickening and her thighs had begun to shake.  Moving faster, I had liberated the entire strand, sucking the thick cream from each bead before her core began flexing in orgasm.  Dropping the pearls and my towel, I stood and slammed home as her release broke free, using one hand to pull against her thighs and the other to wind the knot of her clit to draw the release out or bring the next one right on its heels.
Lucy had never failed to satisfy and her rocking and flexing had kept pace with mine nearly until my own release poured forth.  There was nothing left to give when we were finished, and I was again surprised when, after helping her down, she initiated the aftercare of cleaning me before I could go and get a cloth for her.  I had not considered my shower towel, but she had and had used it.  She was exactly what I wanted, but somehow couldn’t find.
“Why can’t I find another one just like you to be mine alone?”
“Sir, if you could, you would have no need for me.”
“True Lucy, but you don’t want what I want.”
“Also true Sir.  Perhaps until then, we can just be for one another what is needed in the moments we have.”
I would have replied, but as I opened my mouth to speak, the chime of my phone went off from my jacket pocket over the back of the other chair.  I had forgotten it was there as I had watched Lucy leaning over my desk earlier, the perfect sub.  Pulling it out, tapping the screens to get to the message while watching her leaning back against my desk watching me, I must have worn a strange expression as she offered to get us drinks, moving away from my line of sight.
When she had returned, I was seething.  I was also stiffer and standing taller than the girders in the Sears Tower downtown.  She didn’t speak, but set aside the drinks before she sank to her knees before me, sucked the whole length down and quickly began to convulsively swallow against the crown.  I was so astonished by her actions, I didn’t think to hold back.  A few moments had passed in my shock before I could speak, my sac drawing tight.
“Lucy girl, if you keep that up, I’m goi…”
Just like that, before I had a chance to finish speaking she was sucking and milking the release down without a pause.  She had pumped a few times with her mouth and licked the tip clean before she disengaged.  I was fascinated.  As she stood and commented offhand that she needed to go, nodding at the clock that stood easily an hour past the time window we had agreed to, I could only nod and growl.  Her thumb and pinky wagged out at me as she mouthed, ‘Call me again soon lover’ and was out to the wash room with a hard sashay of her hips.
I had sat in stunned disbelief, though not because of Lucy.  No, Lucy had been par for the course of Lucy with her turning tables to have the last lick.  I was stunned at the text message.  There wasn’t enough there to cipher out a coded message.  All I could do was take it at face value.
“You’re late Maisu.”

Watch for The Dom's Diary in full coming in October 2013 to Amazon KDP.

Monday, August 26, 2013

Immortally Mine - Part Four

As August comes to a close, so does Immortally Mine. Hold on to your seats Trysters, you're in for an ending no one saw coming!

I was naked, laying on my back in the backseat of his Escape, the leather interior surprisingly warm against my skin as Tyler hovered over me. Everything about him screamed power, from the muscles in his arms and chest to the strong line of his jaw as his mouth found my skin once more. He chuckled softly as I wriggled under him, shocked by how much I wanted him.

Raising his hand he started writing on the steam covered window. Looking up I could make out the one word, written with strong, bold lines.


Immortally Mine
Part Four
Eva Rayne

I don't know how long we had been here, how long it had been since Tyler had stopped the car and pulled me into the back seat with him. All I knew for sure was that every nerve in my body was on fire, I didn't want him to stop.

And then all of a sudden he did. He had had one hand on my hip, drawing tantalizing circles against my skin, the other tangled in my hair. His mouth was against my breast when he just stopped, sitting up. For several long seconds he studied my face, his gaze slowly moving down over my exposed skin, before he finally spoke.

I'm so going to regret this,” Tyler said with a low growl, bringing his wrist to his mouth. I was about to ask what he meant. Regret what? Did he suddenly not want to do this, cause it was a bit late for that. But that was when he opened his mouth, his fangs growing, before he bit into his own wrist. “But I don't feel like being gentle.”

Before I could process what was gong on he was pressing his wrist against my lips, forcing his blood into my mouth. I squirmed, trying to sit up, but it was no use, not with him on top of me the way he was. I was forced to swallow.

It wasn't like in horror movies, or those vampire books. I knew what blood tasted like, coppery and bitter. But this wasn't like that. His blood was warm and thick, but sweet. My mind was racing as I swallowed again. My veins were singing as his blood spread throughout my body. The only thing I could compare it to was the rush of the alcohol through your system, warming you down to your toes.

Then as quickly as he had pressed his wrist against my mouth he was pulling it away. I gasped and he leaned back, sitting on my hips as he smiled. I pushed myself up into a half sitting position.

What was that for?” I asked wiping his blood off my lips with the back of my hand.

You'll see,” he said with a mischievous grin. Before I could ask anything else he had pushed me back down. I hit the seat hard enough to knock the air out of my lungs. His hands were back on my body, but unlike before, when his touch had been light and teasing, now it was hard and demanding. I was about to complain, tell him to get off, when I realized it didn't hurt.

His fingers pressing into my skin should have left bruises, but instead, they just fueled my desire. It didn't make any sense. What was happening to me?

I closed my eyes, a small moan escaping my lips. With my eyes closed, all the different smells in the car bombarded my nose. The smell of sex was overwhelming. It was almost as if I could smell the tension between us; the electricity that sparked between our bodies as he teased my skin, his fingers on my hard nipples.

And then there was Tyler himself. The mixture of this cologne and his own masculine scent coupled with his hard chest under my hands pushed me past wanting him. I was filed with an almost scary desire, an ache; I needed him and I needed him now!

I opened my eyes in time to watch my nails drag down his chest. What should have left faint pink marks on his skin instead left thin red cuts. I gasped as they began to heal before my eyes, almost like the skin was knitting itself back together. I looked at my hand, they didn't look any different. My nails were short, covered in a layer of chipped orange polish.

W-what's happening to me?” I asked. I could feel his lips against the skin of my stomach curve into a smile. When he spoke his voice was full of amusement.

You're in transition, honey,”

Saturday, August 24, 2013

Dear Jon - Chapter # 4

Hello all! My name is V.L. Locey.  I am a self-published and traditionally published author that lives in the mountains of Pennsylvania with my husband of over twenty-two years, my daughter who is seventeen, a herd of dairy goats, chickens, geese, ducks, turkeys, two dogs, two cats, and a partridge in a pear tree. For more info and links about me and my work, check out the Bio tab up above.

 Enough about me now, let`s dive into some romance shall we?

Dear Jon

Chapter Four


V.L. Locey


Cherry closed in on me. Every damned bit of wood in Theodore Bartlett`s office was cherry. Even the window frames and the legs of the chair my nephew sat in were cherry. I ran my finger around the damp collar of my shirt. The kid was quiet, I`ll give him that. He just sat there in his knickers, matching grey jacket and bow tie, playing with a set of steel cars and trucks, the arm of the ostentatious leather chair his highway. Was I ever that young? When had I changed from being Jon Porter the son to Jon Porter the freak? I think I was born this way. Popular theories disagreed. It was hard to look at the boy running a steel school bus up and down his thigh and imagine him already having his sexual preferences locked down. He looked up at me. My throat got tight.

“. . .wife and I were more than happy to have him until you arrived.”

“What`s his name?” I asked and died a little inside. My own sister`s kid and I didn`t know his name. Attorney Bartlett seemed to think I was a bastard as well. I could tell. His fat lips compressed slightly.

“Andrew,” he informed me. The kid glanced up from his silent play at the sound of his name. Shit but his silence was spooky. “Andrew David Porter, born on the fifteenth of June, nineteen forty-one to one Elizabeth Jean Porter,” the lawyer said, shuffling some papers to draw my stare from Andrew back to him. He was a fat man in a blue suit who reminded me of a blueberry about to burst. “I have the lad’s birth certificate here as well as the last will and testament. I`m assuming you and your sister didn`t discuss the responsibilities that come with being in loco parentis.”

“Uhm, no, we never discussed anything about the boy,” I whispered and tugged at the knot strangling my adams apple. “She and I – Well, we had a falling out many years ago. I- Uhm- She never told me she was expecting. Where`s the father? I mean- She did know the father, right? Where the hell is the bastard?! Why didn`t he step up and marry her?!”

“The father is named as one David Randolph Brooks. He enlisted and served in the Army until his unit came under fire. He is now listed as missing in action and presumed dead.”

“Shit,” I coughed weakly, lunging for the coffee set resting on a cherry tea-cart. Andrew peeked at me and mouthed the word ‘shit’ as his bus ran forward and back. I poured some coffee. The lid on the china pot rattled loudly. Brown liquid slopped over the sides of the delicate tea cup. I tossed the brew back like it was a double shot of whiskey. It tasted like ball bearing grease and had the same consistency as it slid down my throat. “What do I do with him now?”

Mr. Bartlett and his blue suit leaned forward. I heard his chair cry out at the movement. Andrew was still whispering ‘shit’ over and over. I contemplated leaping through the window in a desperate suicide bid but we were on the ground floor.

“Well, we can handle this a few ways,” Attorney Blueberry grumbled, obviously displeased with me. He couldn`t be more displeased with me than I was. “Since you are legally named the boys guardian until he reaches his majority you could, of course, keep him as you sister wished. Barring that, you can offer him up for adoption or take him to the state home for orphaned and unwanted children in Grayson Corners. I know a wonderful couple that would love to adopt him,” the lawyer said.

Jesus, the home for orphaned and unwanted children . . .

Was I really contemplating putting my nephew into a place like that? I stood up. Andrew jerked his gaze from his toys. I began to pace, rubbing the back of my neck so vigorously it hurt. Nothing could be heard but my footfalls on the hardwood, the steady tick-tock of a cherry clock on a cherry shelf, and the whisperings of a child.

“There is no rush to decide right now, Mr. Porter,” Bartlett interjected into my circuit of his office, “The funeral will be in three days. Let`s get Betty interned properly, take a few days to recover, and then come back here say next Monday?”

My head bobbed up and down.

“Fine, fine,” the lawyer mumbled, rearranging more papers atop his cherry desk. I wondered if his crapper was crafted from cherry wood. “I have a folder here for you. Some basic paperwork, copies of Betty`s will, outstanding debts, banking information, etcetera. Martin`s Funeral Parlor will be handling the service per Betty`s wishes. Please take a moment to look over the papers I`ve given you. Inside,” the blueberry pushed to his feet and shoved a manila folder at me. I took it as though it might turn into a scorpion, “You`ll also find the letter Betty instructed me to ensure you got. If you do nothing else tonight, please read that. It might explain things for you. Here`s the key to her bungalow. It`s out along Route Six, four miles past the poultry farm.”

I stared at the silver key resting in my right hand. It was cold on my palm. I looked over at Andrew. He was sitting there, his sandy hair plastered to his head with more Brylcreem than I use in a year and his green eyes round and unsure.

Stuffing the house key into my breast pocket, I plopped my hat onto my head and offered the kid my hand. He gave the lawyer a long uncertain look.

“Go ahead, Andy,” Bartlett cajoled, “This is your uncle Jon. He`s come to take care of you.”

Take care of him? Shit, I couldn`t take care of myself let alone take care of-

That tiny hand slipping into mine about undid me.