AislingWeaver, Erotica, Fuck Me Friday

Heat :: Fuck Me Friday

Twitterotica themes have been hanging around for some time, with various writers tackling weekly challenges such as #wankwednesday and so on, and writing challenges far and wide are abundant.  So when Ruby Kiddell and I started talking about trying to get the weekly smut-a-thons going again I was all for it.  Well, she tackled it with her customary flair and the first linky love Wank Wednesday went off with great success!! The goal is two-fold; for writers, a weekly challenge to keep the, err, juices flowing.  For readers, you’ll find all the stories linked off at the bottom of each week’s prompt. Are you game? So, welcome to the first linky love edition of Fuck Me Friday.  All you have to do is this;

  • Write a story with the prompt as your title.  The first prompt will be :


  • Tweet it with both the prompt hashtag and the hashtag #FuckMeFriday
  • And lastly add it to the links at the bottom of this post.(note, if you don’t want to tweet it or don’t have a blog, I invite you to post your story in the comments section.

~ :: ~ Heat ~ :: ~

It was the cold that did it.  I wouldn’t have reacted so strongly otherwise.  At least, that’s what I told myself.  A sharp wind made the falling snow swirl in a complex dance.  I watched it, wishing for warmth.

I felt Tara’s gaze.  It prickled down my spine, nudged at my pride.  The seemingly endless days of snow and cold had long turned my patience into a cold, brittle thing.

“You’re being stubborn.”  Heat flushed my cheeks at her observation.  She was right, but I’d be damned if I’d admit that. I wasn’t in the mood to play the game tonight. I refused to answer.  My body tensed when I heard her rise.  When her hands closed on my shoulders I jumped as if burned.  “You know I hate that,” she murmured.  Before I could respond she shoved me forward.  Her fingers twisted into my hair and my attention refracted into a conflict of temperatures.  My scalp erupted in a firework of hot spots from her grip.  She pushed and my cheek flinched at the cold pressure of the pane of glass.

“I’m not going to fuck you,” Tara whispered against my cheek, “I’m not going to take you, claim you, mark you, or even kiss you.”  The promise in her voice poured cold lead into my gut and coiled molten lust through my cunt.  “Not until you kneel for me, beg me, convince me.”

I sagged against the window when she let me go, painfully aware of the departure of her heat.  I wanted.  I craved.

But it would be a while before I caved.  Every minute honing her will and mine to the finest of edges.  The conflagration would be brilliant.  Blinding.  Consuming.


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