Hello all. Today’s Sunday Snog is an extra special one as it’s part of our latest Smut for Good campaign which is raising money for Sommer Marsden.
Sommer is a wonderful author, a great friend and one of the most generous people I know. She’s having a hard time of it at the moment as her husband has pancreatic cancer and her family are pulling together around him. Being in America she has the added nightmare of medical bills that adds a huge strain on them financially especially as now there’s only Sommer’s salary coming in.
So we at Smut central have decided to run a big ‘ol charity Sunday Snog to raise money for Sommer and her family. If you pop over to Smut for Good you’ll be able to donate to the cause via paypal. So far there’s been £300 of donations and there’s still a week to go. On the 21st September I’ll be zooming the donations Sommer’s way.
So as it’s a special kind of snog, it’s also got a special kind of prize with it. Want to win a big ol box of goodies?
Then read on and I’ll explain more after the snog itself!
“Yeah, no worries. Just let me know if I can help at all.”
“Well…” He paused for a few moments then shook his head. “No, no, I don’t think you can. Thanks anyway. I’ll get these sorted and I’ll try to be less arsy from now on.”
“It’s okay”—I smiled—“I’ve been just as bad myself, I’m sure. We’ll call a truce?”
“Sure.” He grinned then went to carry on down the steps but stumbled, tumbling down the last few, the bag of rubbish slapping him in the face.
“Oh, bloody hell, Ryan. Are you all right?” I dashed down the stairs and manoeuvred around him.
“Ryan,” I called again, absolutely petrified. “Ryan, are you okay?”
I lifted the bag off his face and he took a deep breath.
“I hit my head but I’m okay.”
“Can you sit up?” I crouched beside him, and when I saw he was struggling to get upright I slipped my hands under his arms to help him.
“Oooh that’s nice,” he purred, then giggled like a little girl. “But it doesn’t part tickle.” He’d definitely given his head a good bump.
“Let’s see where you bumped your head.” I reached out and ran my hand over his forehead, a definite lump forming on the right. “Oh, that’s nasty. I’ll get you some ice.”
“Okay, cutie.” He giggled again.
It was a weird sound coming from a grown man but it was something I’d heard a lot when we’d played together as kids. It ripped at my heart. I took a deep breath and ran to the kitchen. In the freezer I found a pack of frozen peas that might have been well past eating stage but they’d make a decent salve for a bashed head.
When I got back to the stairs, Ryan wasn’t there.
“Where are you, Ryan?” I called. I looked in the front room and glimpsed him on the front lawn, zigzagging with the refuse bag.
“Ryan! Ryan, come here!” I yelled. “Before you do yourself a mischief.”
“Oh, shut up, Janie-wanie.”
I stood in stunned amazement, then he fell over. I ran over to him.
“Oh, my head,” he groaned. “Katrina, I feel sick.”
“Oh, dear, I think you might be a little concussed.” I sighed with relief. Clearly he was less than compos mentis. “Mmm, maybe.”
“I’d better take you to A & E—you’ve had a nasty fall.”
“Oh, I’m sure I’ll be fine. Sure, I’ll be fine, sure I’ll be— What was I doing again?”
“You’re going to hospital with me.”
“Are you ill?” he asked, stroking my arm.
“You could say that. Come on.”
“Okay, I will do when I work out which leg I need to move first.”
It was a trial getting Ryan into a taxi—he kept wanting to get into his van but I couldn’t let him drive—he could barely steer a sentence let alone a vehicle. He asked me several times in the back of the taxi where we were going, called me Mum a couple of times then lay his head on my shoulder.
“Ryan, come on, don’t go to sleep now. I can’t let you, not until you’ve been checked out by a doctor.”
“But I’m tired, sweetie.”
“I know you are, but we’re almost at the hospital and you need to stay awake.” I jiggled my shoulder and he folded his arm over my body.
“Ryan, come on now,” I growled, panic growing. “You can’t sleep.”
He made a strange gurgling sound in the back of his throat and shifted his hand right over my breast.
“Ryan,” I gasped. “What are you doing?”
“Keeping myself awake.” He moved quickly—before I could move or take it in, his lips were on mine.
I was stunned into indecision. My body was all for deepening the kiss, my hands were itching to run into his hair and add pressure to our kiss, my back wanted to arch and push my breasts farther against him and my mouth was ready to thoroughly explore his. However, my mind was completely against all of it. My mind held onto the facts. Apart from being seriously mentally incapacitated by his fall he was also the one man in Thornleydale who could work out who I was by my kiss. So I pushed him back.
Luckily, the taxi pulled up just then, and I got to bundle Ryan out of it and into the hospital foyer. He seemed to have completely forgotten the kiss. However, I hadn’t. I felt as light on my feet as Ryan. I vibrated, my skin hummed and I wanted to scrub at it, to stop it reminding me how good it had felt to have Ryan’s arms around me.
Now after that scorching hot snog from Her Secret Past, onto the prize. I’ve got this beautiful box of goodies. It reminds me of Her Secret Past because the house they’re cleaning out is filled with boxes filled with interesting things.
To win the box of goodies of a bundle of 5 Blisse eBooks check out the rafflecopter below:
The more you do, the more chances you have to win and some of the options you can do daily to increase your chances further. This contest is open to everyone everywhere (well, on Earth anyway. Not sure Royal Mail deliver to outer space yet) and will be open until midnight on the 21st September. Good luck!
Now you’ve enjoyed my snog please check out all the rest, there will be many more prizes to try for and loads more kisses to enjoy.
And if you can please pop over to Smut for Good and donate to the cause. Every pound you pledge will go straight to Sommer so she can use it for whatever her family needs and every penny is very, very much appreciated. Thank you.