Tag Archives: WIP

Opening Pandora: A New Beginning

Trying out a new beginning I wrote last night. What do you guys think?

I was thirteen the first time I tried to kill myself. The knife was very different from the one I currently held. I swiveled the blade, watching more lime juice soak into the maple cutting board.

I placed the freshly sliced fruit into a plastic container, grabbing another victim from the grocer’s box. I wasn’t sure what made me think of that long-ago day. It might have been the song playing over the satellite radio, speakers tumbling out the tinny tune. Could have been the fact that I’d almost severed my thumb, the dull paring knife skidding off the peel and missing my digit by a hair’s breadth.

I dropped another handful of lime garnishes into the container and eyed up my stockpile. I grabbed the box of lemons and extricated a few of the lesser bruised choices, placing them on the counter top. It was probably more likely that today was the second anniversary of my divorce.

I turned over a lemon, neatly clipped off the ends, and cut it into halves, quarters, and then eighths. I scored each section with a horizontal gash, making it easier to wedge onto the top of a glass, then dropped the pieces beside the cut limes.

The first anniversary had landed me in the hospital, a blood alcohol level five times the legal limit. I hadn’t consciously been trying to kill myself. Though, I’d never driven drunk before. The night was a bit of a blur. It involved confronting Ron, a screaming match with his current conquest, several bars, and too many shots to remember. I thought I’d been lonely in my disaster of a marriage. It’s amazing how low you can sink when there’s no distractions, and it’s just you and your thoughts.

That’s where I was eighteen years ago, hiding in that closet, rubbing the switchblade across my wrist. Lost in thought. It wasn’t like I’d had a terrible childhood. I had friends who’d had it much worse. My brain just tended toward the melancholy, and my parents were emotionally unavailable. I’d had all the creature comforts in life, but none of the love and connection to go with them. I was a piece of litter adrift in a bleak, infinite ocean. In my opinion, there hadn’t been much to live for.

I glanced at the flawless, porcelain skin of my forearm. I’d been too terrified to do it, but I had craved the silence that I knew would come with a swift, deep cut. My blood would have flowed with suppressed tears. I’d have finally gotten their attention.

I shook my head. Jesus, that was morose. I finished cutting the lemons and carried both boxes back to the walk-in fridge in the basement. I’d come a long way since my accident, and I wasn’t that sad little girl anymore. I glanced at my watch and took a deep, cleansing breath.

I had five minutes until the doors opened, six until Jake and Adam sat across from me, each seeking solace, a friendly ear, and a pint of Guinness, and thirty seconds or less until Lisa accosted me about last night. I shoved the shroud of memories back into the closet with the rest of my skeletons and found my smile. It was show time.

Avelynn 3: Could This Be The Beginning?

This scene came out of nowhere, and apparently, I had to jot it down. And… it’s in Alrik’s POV. #Interesting

Could this be the beginning of Avelynn 3?

Alrik ran his hand along the worn rail, the wood cool and wet, the mist blanketing the hull in a shroud of silence. They’d all know of his betrayal and exile. Raven’s Blood skulked like a wounded dog, her numbers greatly reduced from her altercations in Wales, though no one would be fool enough to think her crippled. At close to fifty crew, she was still formidable, but dissent and bitterness trailed the aft like a festering dung heap. Those looking would smell it a hundred knots away.

“How much longer?” Tollak leaned his hip against the steering board—the rudder as useless as the compass stone since the fog descended and they’d dropped anchor.

Alrik ran a hand through his hair. There was no splitting the veil. “Another day, perhaps?” 

At the least the sea rolled quiet. Despite the otherworldly chill, he’d gladly take fog over a tempest. He glanced around the crew. “How many?”

Tollak frowned. “At least half.”

Alrik nodded. That was to be expected. At least twenty men would stand by him, offering protection for the ship and Avelynn. It would be a good number to present to his uncle Rurik in Novgorod, if he accepted them. Only the Gods knew their fate. The rest of the men would return home to Gotland and Sweden. They owed him nothing.

In gratitude,

Marissa xo

 

Pleasure Incorporated: Pamela and the Plumber Part 2

DISCLAIMER: This is first draft stuff. 🙂

If you haven’t read part one of this hot story… check it out here first!

“I’m Paul, the hotel sent me to help.” He handed me a business card for Childs’ Brothers: Laying pipe day and night, as big as you need and as deep as you want.

“I understand you’re having some plumbing issues. I’d like to start with your tap,” he said and waited for me to usher him in.

“The bathroom is through the bedroom then around the corner.”

He nodded and made his way through the suite while I closed the door behind him. By the time I made it to the bathroom, he already had the vanity doors open, his flashlight shining into the dark cavity.

“This might take a while. Please, have a seat.” He motioned to the lounge chair.

I sat as instructed, placing his business card on the window ledge.

He unclasped his tool belt and set it on the floor near his feet. “It’s awfully warm in here,” he said while shrugging off his Oxford button down. The shirt landed in a heap on top of the belt.

I licked my lips. Sculpted back muscles rippled into a narrow waist, and when he bent over to have a look under the sink, his jeans slid a couple inches off his hips, affording me a delightful view of the top of his ass.

After a few minutes of poking around the drain pipe, he extricated himself and dusted his hands across his pants. “Done.” He turned on the tap. Water rushed unimpeded into the sink.

Case closed, he shut off the valve and turned to me, hands on his hips, his jeans slipping a little lower. I had the sudden urge to trail my fingernails through the tangled curls on his chest, following the indents between his pecs and washboard abs until they dropped lower, and I could help him out of those ill-fitting pants once and for all.

“I’d like to take care of your flow problem now.” He stalked over to my chair.

“My flow problem?” Those jeans were within reach.

“Yes, I’d like to make you very wet.” His grin smoldered, one side of his mouth twitching upwards.

I wanted to trap those smirking lips between my teeth. I volleyed the serve back. “It’s a serious dilemma. I’d appreciate it if you could fix it for me.”

“It would be my pleasure.” He fished his phone from his back pocked. “But first, I need to let the office know I’ll be putting in some overtime on this one.”

“Of course, I wouldn’t want you in trouble on my account.”

He finished texting his message and tucked the phone away. “Now, where were we?” He held out his hand, and I took it as he guided me out of the chair.

“I believe you were going to make me very wet.” I sidled up to him, glad to finally be getting down to business. I ran my hands up his forearms, gliding over his biceps and shoulders before threading my way into the course hair of his chest. Eager to follow the happy trail to see what kind of rigid tool awaited beneath that taunting zipper, I inched my exploration lower then froze.

Someone knocked on the door. I tried to ignore it, but the clamour continued.

“Excuse me. Don’t move.” I left my plumber, who had already been deliciously effective in getting my taps running, and answered the door.

“Good evening, Miss. I’m Rick Childs, Paul’s brother. I’m here to oversee his work.”

My mouth dropped. Dressed in an identical uniform as Paul, the only thing distinguishing the two brothers was the fact Rick stood in my doorway.

“We’re twins.” He delivered the line as a matter of fact, not something that had the potential to blow my fucking mind.

I nodded, my normal cheeky wit suddenly mute.

“Is he still in the bathroom?”

I cleared my throat. “Yes, straight through there.”

As he wandered off in search of his brother, I took stock. I’d mentioned in my questionnaire that one of my fantasies involved a threesome, but I never expected Pleasure Inc. to stack one experience on another. I remembered some of the other things I’d expressed, rather explicitly, in that survey, and my heart raced.

Rick sat on the chair, and I found Paul where I’d left him, waiting by the vanity. He ran his finger under the strap of my dress, inching the fabric down my arm. “You don’t mind if my brother watches do you? I’m almost finished my apprenticeship. This is my last test.”

I glanced at Rick, who rubbed at a considerable hard on, pressing against the fabric of his jeans. My stomach clenched, moisture flowing between my legs. At this rate, Paul would have a flood on his hands. I wondered if that would constitute a pass or fail? “Anything I can do to help.”

Like the atmosphere after a lightning storm, the air around me pulsed with electricity, my nerves firing in rapid succession, catching every inch of my body up to speed on what could potentially happen.

Paul slid both straps down my arms, tugging the dress over my breasts and hips until it pooled around my feet. Running his fingers down my thighs and calves, he knelt on the floor. He lifted one foot then the other, releasing me of the cumbersome garment. The back of his nails whisked up my foot, lingering on the ankle clasp of my shoes. “These can stay on.”

I’d spared no height restrictions with my heels and wore a killer pair of CFM stilettos.

He stood, lifting me in the process, and I squealed as he set my bare ass on the cold granite of the counter top. Out of the corner of my eye, I watched Rick unzip his pants, drawing his hard cock out. He gripped the shaft, rubbing his hand up and down, his gaze never leaving mine. My head fizzed with arousal, leaving me lightheaded and aching with need.

Paul hooked his fingers around my thong and left them in a pile by my dress. “Spread your legs for me.”

I opened wide as he grabbed my ass, squeezing the cheeks hard, thrusting me forward. I had enough presence of mind to grasp the edge of the vanity before his tongue lighted on my clit. My head flung back, pressing against the mirror, as my hips arched upward.

I closed my eyes, relishing Paul’s masterful attention, delighting in the spasms pulsing through my legs as his fingers dove inside me.

“May I?” Rick’s voice, teasing beside my ear, snapped me out of my reverie. He stood completely naked beside his brother.

Paul acquiesced, letting Rick tuck between my legs.

“My brother forgot to pay these beautiful ladies some attention.” He unclasped my bra, releasing a cascade of cleavage into his waiting hands. My nipples tightened and peaked as his thumb rubbed the straining nubs. His cock twitched against my clit, his pelvis pressed tight against mine. The intimate touch caused my pussy to clench with need. I wanted that pipe in me as deep as it could go. I rocked my hips against him, easing some of the torture.

A quick look at Paul assured me he’d stripped off his jeans and underwear and had taken over residence on the lounge chair. Like his brother before him, he rocked a wicked hard on, his hand pumping. Their cocks were beautiful, not too big or wide, but smooth and ribbed with thick veins. Arousal jolted through me. I wanted them filling every inch of me. “I want you in my mouth.”

Want more? Read The Climax here!

Looking for other stories from Pleasure Incorporated? Check out Stephanie and Stephan’s story. 🙂

Stephanie and Stephan Part 1 https://wp.me/p85fwy-is

Stephanie and Stephan Part 2 https://wp.me/p85fwy-iI

Stephanie and Stephan The Climax https://wp.me/p85fwy-iW

In gratitude,

Marissa xo

Twitter WIP Show and Tell on #R2P

November 7th, 2016

This week’s theme for #Road2Publication #R2P is:

Tell us about your Work in Progress. Give us the hook in 150 characters or less.  Don’t forget to use the #Road2Publication or #R2P

If you tag me @marissa_author I will be sure to ReTweet you!

#R2P-Nov72016

In gratitude,

Marissa xo

#Road2Publication

I want to start a movement based on positivity, community, support, and fellowship.

road2publication

My vision revolves around three words:

Dream. Believe. Create

If you can dream it, believe in it, then create it.

Dream big. Dream with your whole heart.

Believe in yourself. Believe in your vision.

Create your own destiny. Create your happiness. Create your dream come true.

#Road2Publication is a tool to support authors and writers on their quest toward publication. Whether you’re seeking traditional or self publishing, we all have the same goal… for others to read our work. We might take many different paths to get there, but we are all on the same journey. I’d like to create a community of support where we lift each other up, share our experiences, and root each other on.

Talk about your successes. Share your obstacles. Ask questions. Find answers. Speak about your current WIP. Tell us about your process. Where are you on your #Road2Publication?

In gratitude,

Marissa xo

All About the Journey

Writing is a fascinating process. You start off in one direction, wander down multiple pathways, back track, take the fork in the road, retrace your steps, follow the bend, stare at dead ends, turn back, and try again. So many tangents, so many broken lines… only to end up at the right spot, eventually.

#AllAboutTheJourney #WritersLife #HotInAruba #Word

Gateway to Macha
In gratitude,
Marissa xo

Over the Hump

Working on a new novel is a lot like running through a vat of molasses. It’s a slow, messy process. I’m happy to report, however, I finally stumbled over the 30,000 word hump. 😀

Here’s a little teaser of what I wrote today for Hot in Aruba, my contemporary romance.

That Tongue

Can’t wait to share this one with you!

In gratitude,

Marissa xo

For the Record

From today’s writing: Hot in Aruba

Hot in Aruba

My feet moved mechanically. I was a sexually active woman. I loved sex. I craved the intimacy and high of climax, yet around Carlos, I acted like a girl who’d barely been kissed. And why? Because I was bent on us being friends. That old record was seriously wearing out its groove.

When he’d suggested we should head back, I’d wanted anything but. However, the idea of pushing him down and fucking him in the desert sand hadn’t really appealed to me, and I couldn’t for the life of me figure out why? Outside sex was hot. A thought burbled to the surface, and I cringed. A whiny, pouty little voice mewled that our first time together should be special.

I kicked a pebble in my path. What the hell was happening to me? I was losing my fucking mind.