The Weekend Writing Warriors share 8 sentences over the weekend.

Here are mine (edited to fit the 8) from Exhibition…

Grace wasn’t sure how long he drew on her, teased her. His hands spoke for him as he worked in silence, but her breathing, her low torn moans became louder.

He made her soft and pliable under him.

When he leaned over her to draw up her arm, his shirt kept lightly brushing her turgid nipple to the point of pain, causing her to twist and groan; rub her thighs together.

“Be still,” he admonished with a slap to her breast.

She bucked from the pleasure of it, almost came, but he withdrew all his touch.

He left her rasping for breath as she backed away from the edge of pleasure.

Then he started again.

 © Nicolette Hugo

Link to Weekend Writing Warriors and the list of other authors

 The Weekend Writing Warriors share 8 sentences over the weekend.

Here are mine (edited to fit the 8) from Exhibition…

“Do you have a safe word?” he murmured, his thumb lazily stroking over her hip bone repeatedly. He spoke loud enough to hear, but soft enough that she had to focus to follow him.

She shook her head, she never bothered with one because she never called it – she didn’t get anything she didn’t want or deserve. Grace thought she heard him mutter something but it was too soft for her to be sure.

“No safeword…no play, ” he said as his hand left her hip and a finger traced along the crease of her thigh, over her neatly trimmed mons, down the seam between her thighs. “So what’s it going to be?”

Grace panicked for a moment, her mind blank, unable to think of a single word. All she could focus on was his hands on her body, his voice in her darkness – need.

 © Nicolette Hugo

Link to Weekend Writing Warriors and the list of other authors

 The Weekend Writing Warriors share 8 sentences over the weekend.

Here are mine (modified slightly to fit the 8) from  Exhibition…

Image Source: Unkown

It was impossible to miss the girl with the guestbook sign above her head. Nudity this side of the door was commonplace, but seeing her offered like that, a canvas, Jason felt the irresistible urge to fill the blank spaces.

Jason walked closer, deliberately stepped into her space. Robbed of her sight, he let her feel his presence.

“I’d very much like to draw on you,” he said softly, intimately. “I’d very much like for you to say yes.”

Classically trained Jason could paint and draw well enough to sell, but he had found his passion and artistic identity behind the camera. It had been a long time since his fingers had itched to draw like tonight.

                               © Nicolette Hugo

Link to Weekend Writing Warriors and the list of other authors

The Weekend Writing Warriors share 8 sentences over the weekend.

Here are mine from Exhibition…

Even with the writing, her skin was flawless. It seemed to glow with a pale luminescence that contrasted with the rich black of her hair. Skin like that was made for higher art.

She was petite and slim, breasts no bigger than his hand. Full lush lips that called to be nibbled and nipped, contrasted with the otherwise delicate features of her face – high cheekbones, a slight point to her chin and the short feathered cut that fell over her blindfolded-eyes. She was bound in her fragile beauty against the worn timber like a sacrifice of purity.

He wanted to capture that, corrupt it, restore it, then corrupt it again.

 © Nicolette Hugo