Under Fire.

Not me, not you, it’s the name of a Coming Together anthology that features one of my stories!

vgscdComing Together: Under FireA multi-author anthology of erotic fiction and poetry edited by the dynamic writing (and now editing) team of Alessia Brio and Will Belegon. ALL proceeds from the sale of this volume will benefit relief efforts for the victims of the 2007 Southern California Wildfires. With stories and poetry by Alessia Brio, Will Belegon, James Buchanan, Aurora Black, Jamie Hill, Brenna Lyons, Victoria Blisse, Rachel Kramer Bussel, Vincent Diamond, Laurence Doyen, Jeremy Edwards, Justanne Farrow, Mari Freeman, Shanna Germain, Nicole Gestalt, Tilly Greene, Michelle Houston, Lauren Hynde, Selena Kitt, Vana Lafayette, Rebecca Leah, Rachelle Le Monnier, Dr. Madeuse, Sommer Marsden, Jude Mason, Gwen Masters, Lefty McGee, Gabrielle Miel, Sapphire Phelan, Teresa Noelle Roberts, Lisabet Sarai, Skylar Sinclair, Samantha Sommersby, and Stephanie Vaughan.

My story is called Flaming hot and here’s a snippet of it for you!

I pick up the red lacy bra and smile. It called to me as I was shopping for an everyday, comfortable kind of bra. I was necessity shopping, and I really didn’t have the time or money to entertain frivolity. However, the deep scarlet lace and the vibrant orange and yellow flames embroidered onto it seemed to pull me in. When I saw the cute knickers to match, I was a goner. I tried them on, hoping they’d be uncomfortable, praying they’d be too tight—but no; they fit snugly, and they looked good.

I’m not a loud lingerie buyer, but as I stood behind that thick blue curtain of the dressing room staring into the mirror, I decided I had to have this soft, lacy sexiness. In fact, I wanted to stride into the store proper and show everyone how sexy I looked in it. Thank God, I did resist the temptation.

I wish I’d resisted the temptation to buy them too, because I’m not sure my husband will understand my expensive urge. Hence, the plan.

I wriggle into the red lace panties, the flames licking up the V of my crotch and heating me. Adding the bra that sets my breasts on fire, I notice my hardened nipples as they swish against the luxurious fabric. I spot myself with my favourite perfume and let my hair down from the tight clip I typically use to hold it in place. The curls tumble onto my shoulders and add another swirl of sensuality to my look.

The plan is to surprise Sean when he comes home from work tonight. I plan to lure him into sex in front of the roaring fire, and then I hope he will overlook the expense of the outfit that made his wife so damned horny. I’m sure it’ll work, especially as he’s been complaining about the lack of sex in recent times. I don’t deal well with stress, and it’s been a time and a half with the inspectors at work and all the extra paperwork that entails. But, it’s all over now, and we passed with flying colours. And now, I have new flame undies that get me hot. Life couldn’t get much better.

The clothes inspired the fire idea. The lovely old Victorian fireplace was one of the main reasons we bought this place, but I can count on one hand the number of times we’ve lit a fire in it. Today, it’s all about flames. The flickering heat of the fire will compliment my outfit beautifully.

Another quick check of my watch before I take off the time piece, then I careen downstairs. He’s due back any minute. I fill a deep plastic tub with ice and plunge a bottle of something fresh and bubbly into it then carry it carefully into the living room and place it on the coffee table at the end of the sofa.

The soft, furry rug that feels so good beneath my toes feels even better rubbing along my buttocks and thighs. I wiggle around to get comfortable and find myself wiggling more out of sheer arousal. The soft fibres brush gently over my soft, white flesh, and I lie down to feel them stimulating more skin.

The soft tickling on my shoulder blades is heavenly, but I am aware that Sean will walk through the door any minute. So, I need to find a more alluring position. I roll onto my side and look towards the door that leads into the hall way. I prop my head up on one hand, kink my top leg and rest my hand on that thigh. I concentrate on thinking sexy thoughts and hope that my eyes convey my mood.

After a few minutes, I feel my fingers going numb. A few minutes more, and I have pins and needles pricking my wrist and palms. I roll onto my back to shake and wiggle my arm and return the circulation to it.

“Where the hell is he?” I curse, fighting down the urge to strip off and sulk. It’s probably just bad traffic. I calm myself with deep breaths, hypnotising myself with the rise and fall of my large breasts.

I forget the need to assume a new sexy pose as the tickling rug reminds me to revel in the sensuality of this moment. I run my hands down my chest and over my lace-covered breasts as I writhe against the soft fur and surprise myself by letting out a loud, low moan.

“Where the fuck is he?” I gasp, running my fingers over my stomach and down to my crotch. “He’s missing all the fun.” The heat of the fire plays up my legs and suffuses me, pushing lust to every nook and cranny. My fingers travel over the thin lace of my panties, teasing my puffy lips, and I feel the dampness seeping through.

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