10 Aug '13

Sex Scene Championship Round 10 : Stella and Audra Price Vs Karla Doyle

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Excerpt One 
Stella and Audra Price : Giving Up The Ghost

The elevator dinged, and the doors opened, and she walked in, thankful she was the only one getting into the car. Squirming because your body was in need wasn’t something she wanted to explain to an elderly couple or creepy guy on his own.

When the doors shut she turned around and realized she wasn’t alone, and that fate had chosen for her. Rhys was standing just inside the doors as the lift operated, and walked closer to her as she pushed herself against the far wall. He smiled at her, a cocky, ‘you know your going to get it’ kind of smile and cocked his head.

“I believe we have a little unfinished business…”

“And your just going to take care of it right here are you?” she asked with faked bravado. Having him this close, her body screamed to let him sate it. Gods this really was a bad idea…

He was in front of her in seconds. “Partially. The little dance? Hot as fuck but that little taste of you isn’t enough, so let’s quit the shit, ok? You’re going to get fucked, and hard, but first…”

Rhys went to his knees in front of her and pushed her legs apart, lifting her right leg and slung it over his shoulder. She looked down at him, trembling, the adrenaline putting her to a total high at the thought of him doing this in an elevator, where she knew there were cameras, and it could stop at any floor. It didn’t seem to matter to him.

He was singular in his purpose, and growled as he looked at her and then moved in, his lips touching the swollen and needy flesh between her thighs, his tongue slipping between her folds, lapping at the cream left from their first little playtime. She shuddered, moaned, and then dug her hands into his hair as he set to work on her, his tongue sliding, his lips caressing, sucking. She threw her head back, moaned and closed her eyes, feeling him concentrate on her clit, sucking with just enough pressure, and then slipping his tongue down the lap at her entrance. She was on the edge, just this side of skittering over, and it was maddening.

It was only after he added two fingers to the mix, slipped them inside and hooked them as he sucked perfectly on her clit that she shattered, her back bowing, her scream a guttural cry, her fingers pulling at his hair. Explosive wasn’t the word for what he just did to her, and her sheath milked his fingers, wishing it were something else. Hell she wished it was something else.

She panted, licked her lips, and whispered his name, and he was there, kissing her, letting her taste herself on his lips. So fucking hot, she thought and deepened the kiss, his fingers still inside her, petting her.


Excerpt Two 
Karla Doyle : Body of Work

“Wow, this room is all bed.” Cassie’s eyes roamed the trophies and plaques on an overhead shelf as her hand trailed along the navy-blue comforter on his old queen-size.

The door clicked behind his back. “When you’re a six-foot-two fifteen-year-old, you warrant something larger than a twin.”

“I guess so.” She pushed down on the mattress, a cheeky smile tipping her lips. “Ever sneak girls up here to try it out?”

“Don’t I wish. You met the people downstairs, right? Even if I’d managed to get somebody past the guards,” he tossed a nod toward the door, “there’s no lock. They’re all about full disclosure. Made jerking off an adventure, never knowing who might open the damn door.”

Her smile turned to a giggle. “You poor thing.”

“Yeah, now it’s on you to help me make up for missed experiences.

” Her eyes dropped to the front of his kilt, then to the door, then back to his face. “There’s still no lock.”

Small room that it was, he had her trapped within seconds. “Long as the springs don’t squeak too much, or you don’t scream too loud, we should be fine.”

“Should be?”

“On the bed, ass at the edge, with your skirt to the waist.” And up she went, as directed. Fuck, he loved it when she obeyed. Of course, he also loved it when she acted like a feisty, defiant brat. Being with Cassie defined win-win. He hooked the sides of her black string-bikini panties and pulled. “I’ll take these.” In the cargo pocket of his kilt they went. He spread her legs with his hips, went to his knees and looped her soft, warm thighs over his shoulders. “And I’ll take this.” One lick and his hips jutted forward automatically, seeking entrance to a prize that wasn’t available—yet. “You taste so fucking good.” Another swipe of his tongue had her arching to meet his mouth. “That’s my girl, press your pussy against my face.”

His girl did exactly that. Opened wider, tilted for him. Seared his skull with the tracks of her nails.

“Hey.” His dad’s deep voice accompanied a single, solid thump that rattled the paneled wood door. “You’re not married yet. You’ve got sixty seconds to get to the table.”

“Shit.”

“Oh my god, did he hear us?” She skittered off the bed, yanking her skirt so hard she probably lengthened it several inches in the process. “I need my underwear.”

He pulled the t-shirt back over his head. Gave the raging hard-on tenting his kilt a shove to one side. Cassie’s eyes tracked every movement. Still glassy and dilated from her almost-orgasm. Hungry looking. As a test, he stuck his hand down front and adjusted his cock some more—a mistake since he needed it to go down, and touching himself while watching her tongue slide along her bottom lip was definitely having the opposite effect. Christ.

“My underwear,” she said again, this time in a raspy whisper that made his balls roil with heat.

“Are mine now.”

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