So… as I’ve been editing my 130,000 word novel (which I have now finished and am about to send off for a structural edit). Part of the process was reducing (or removing) some of the more intense or ‘unsuitable’ love scenes. One of the scenes I cut back was at the sensual ‘climax’ of the story, the first time my heroine her dark and damaged Champagne producer give in to their lust.

Describing each act in a night of lovemaking was a bit extreme, so I removed the little one in the middle, and edited the rest down to their scintillating essence.

Circumstances have my lovers sharing a one bedroom cottage at Henri’s vineyard, but instead of arguing about who gets the bed, they fall in to it together.

One day I hope you’ll read my debut work of sensual women’s fiction, to read the scenes that made the cut, but for now, here’s a little tease…

Later, in the full dark, I woke to the eager nudge of Henri’s erection pressed against my thigh. I moaned and stretched sleepily, recalling pleasure in my tender flesh and pleasantly fatigued muscles. I turned blindly into his embrace, and he rolled us so that I lay beneath him, his entry eased by the slickness of our earlier joining. He slid fully into me and I sighed, a feeling of belonging filling me with his cock.

His movements, slow and gentle, as if we had all the time in the world, failed to fully rouse me, and I gladly clung to the shadowy sanctuary between sleep and waking, where I could forget that I would be leaving soon, for the other side of the world. Forever.

I moved slowly beneath him, matching his languor, and savouring the dreamlike quality of our desire. I would have been happy to never stop, content to remain locked in the pleasurable rhythm, to never reach for the climax and the end to our night together.

Inevitably, Henri’s movements became more focused, and at the sign of his increased pleasure, my sex clenched around him in answering urgency. Within moments we were surging and panting against each other, sweat drenching the sheets.

In ecstasy, I arched against him and bit into his shoulder, trying to hold onto the sweet feeling of completion, rather than have it escape with my cry. The shock of my bite tipped Henri over the edge of his control. He thrust wildly against me as I pulsed around him, his fingers digging into my butt, groaning his completion against my neck.

Craving more contact, I ran my fingers through his damp hair and gripped his scalp with my fingertips, pressing his face against my breasts, where he ran his lips over my heated skin.

His kisses slowed to languid as sleep stole his movements of purpose, and he lay back next to me, nestling me into his side. Content and safe for the next few hours, I dropped almost instantly back into sleep, too quickly to question if the dampness on his cheeks was any more than the product of our lovemaking.

AND, to celebrate entrusting my baby into the hands of a professional (editor), I have reduced the price of my collection of sensual short stories ‘Love, Lust & Nipple Clamps’ to 99 cents (US) until the end of this week.

I hope you enjoy the stories as much as I enjoyed writing them, and that you will leave me some love in the form of a review on Amazon.