Friday, September 10, 2010

Summer is gone, the hot temperatures replaced with cooler evenings. Take a few leisure moments and follow the RWBB romance writers as they take you through some of the naughtiest and sultriest blogs for your chances to win free ebooks.

You should be coming to Romantic Interludes via Gem Sivad's blog. Welcome! For more fun on the blog tour visit a good friend of mine, Dawne Prochilo and her blog An Open Book.

I love rain...thunderstorms even better. When I was a moody teenager, I'd sit on the porch of my parents house on a rainy night and write poetry. Rain is very sensual. The natural scent calls to the primal creature with us. Drops of cool rain caressing hot skin, arousing the senses even more. Lightening flashes give power to the beast while thunder is a musical anthem.

Rain was an important element in the first love scene of my characters Puzzola and Elizabeth in the book Painted Soul. They had been separated for ten years, sexual passion that had been stifled for so long was ready to explode much like the clash of lightening and rolling thunder.

Please sit back & enjoy this excerpt from Painted Soul. Elizabeth is painting in her studio, angry with her brothers because they prevented her from seeing Puzzola as he hid in the shadows of his own gallery opening. However, the brothers have devised a plan for Puzzola to surprise her.

Puzzola with his usual cool exterior was outside leaning against the wall when the brothers exited Elizabeth’s gallery. The flash of lightening and rumble of thunder reflected the storms churning inside him. He was balancing on a thin line. The plan was in motion.

“I’m trusting you with my sister, friend,” Michael said, meeting Puzzola with a cold stare as lightening flashed again in the distance.

Erick palmed a key to the dark figure, “Oh, she’s mad at us!” Then he leaned closer to whisper, “Good luck.”

Puzzola nodded to his friends before slipping inside. The plan called for elevating Elizabeth’s emotions to the same level she had experienced that memorable night while dancing in The Place. Tonight they would finish what they started, both releasing years of pent up emotion. The lightning lit up the empty gallery showing him the stairs, but he could not miss the mind-blowing music full of hard driving guitar riffs and unbelievable energy. From personal experience, he knew Elizabeth was on an escapist trip. Drugs or alcohol could never take a person close to the trip an artist takes while working intensely on a piece. Pausing at the top stair, he tried to slow down his breathing.

Slowly, he peered into the studio like a peeping Tom, but wasn’t prepared for the sight. With her hair flowing freely over her shoulders Elizabeth danced in the candlelight holding a paintbrush and wearing only a thin camisole and thong panties. She raised her arms over her head in a graceful gesture swaying her hips to the sexual groove blasting from the speakers. Her smell filled his nostrils, his hunger for her intensifying as he struggled for control.

Elizabeth was definitely caught up in the mood of the candles, music and emotion. When she finally turned and saw him standing in the doorway, she stopped dancing, still holding her paintbrush. Puzzola met her gaze, smiled as he shrugged his shoulders and boldly stepped into the room. Sexual tension in the air was thicker than the paint on the pallet.

“Hello, my lady,” his voice thick and sensual.

She stood breathless, still in shock. Here he was, in her studio.
“How did you get in here?”

“Someone thought I might need this,” he placed a key on a table. “I wanted to thank you personally for coming to my opening. But I’m sorry if you found some of my work disturbing.”

“You were there.”

“Yes. I enjoy listening to my work being analyzed,” he moved effortlessly around the room sending her sultry glances. “It’s a fun little game I play with my critics.”

“I’m sure Painted Soul will get you committed.”

“Committed to whom?”

He was the most delicious man she had ever seen. Taller than she remembered and more masculine than the clean cut punk with two-tone hair she met so long ago. Yet he still held a mysterious power over her. In his black clothing, he moved like a panther. She shivered thinking of the image in “Painted Soul.”

“Nice work,” he complimented as he looked at the painting. His eyes momentarily narrowed then flashed back to Elizabeth.

Puzzola held out a hand to her, she saw the scar across his palm and the gold band on his thumb. Her heart pounding, she touched it. Upon her hand, she wore a thumb ring she purchased shortly after meeting him. Puzzola rubbed his thumb against hers with a slow stroking motion. Cat-like he moved until they touched palm to palm and stood chest to chest, staring into each other’s eyes. Elizabeth’s heart pounded to the beat of the provocative music. Emotions and memories filled her mind. She wanted him more than ever.

“Do you want me to be here, Elizabeth?” Puzzola asked in a husky voice.

In a daring move, she touched his check remembering the two black painted stripes long gone, then traced his jaw line with her fingertips. Her throat felt dry, as she caressed the face that haunted her dreams. She couldn’t believe he was real, but she could feel his heat. Elizabeth saw the raw hunger in his eyes reflecting what she felt.

“Yes,” she answered with little more than a whisper, “very much.”

Like the lightening outside, Puzzola quickly moved her into his arms and pressed hard against her. His carefully planned night was unraveling, he was losing composure. His emotions were taking control. He had to devour his ravishing tormentor and make the pain inside his soul subside. She would be his, tonight.

“I have made time stop for us tonight. You will not get away from me this time,” he whispered in her ear. He felt her melt into his arms as his body gyrated against hers in time with the music. “Welcome to our fantasy. Open your mind let your wishes come true. I am here, Elizabeth, flesh and blood to set you free. I will be whatever you want me to be. I am all your dreams and your worst nightmare in one. Release me only when you are ready to begin your reverie.”

Elizabeth pressed against him, tilted her head back with closed eyes as a small moan escaped from her lips. Her body begged to be touched, to feel the burn. She needed him to wipe away those lost years without him. He cupped her face with his fiery hands, forcing her eyes to open. His eyes burned into her then they rolled back when she ran her hands across his torso and along his sides, feeling the sculpted muscles beneath the silk fabric of his shirt. She could hear his struggled breathing and feel his rapid heartbeat. Pleased with her affect on him, she continued her movements.

His eyes opened as he caressed her throat with his fingers and brought his hand down her chest across her breast. Elizabeth thought her heart would leap out of her chest when his hand stroked her body as if inspecting, then finally resting on the small of her back. His other hand slid behind her head. A soft purr escaped from her as he tangled his fingers in her hair. Elizabeth closed her eyes, breathing hard, tipped her head back desirous for a kiss.

Pulling her close Puzzola nuzzled her check, “You have haunted my dreams. I can not believe I am finally holding my specter. I have wanted you so long.”

His mouth came down on hers in desperate need. Heat churned inside her as she answered back with the same desperation. Flames of passion and desire spread to inferno.

“Dream lover,” she touched his check and he turned his face to place a kiss in her palm, “take me where I want to be.”

Hearing the repeated promise of long ago, Puzzola smiled, “Oh, my lady.”

Lightening flashed, thunder rolled and rain began to pound on the roof. The music, the candles, Puzzola lost all control as the need to be released from the burning desire peaked. In a swift movement he pulled the camisole off Elizabeth’s body, exposing soft round breasts to the glowing candlelight. He picked her up with his hands under her, pushed her back against a wall and covered her neck with fervent kisses. She gasped and arched against him as he sucked a sensitive nipple into his mouth. Puzzola groaned as she ran her fingers through his hair. He took her mouth in a deep, possessive kiss as he pulled off her panties. The kiss stopped when they both were breathless. Looking into her eyes, he was lost.

“You are so beautiful, my lady,” he murmured, “I want to taste your sweetness.”

“Puzzola,” Elizabeth whimpered as she placed a hand on his face.

“I am here,” he said as he trailed kisses down her neck.

He buried his face into the softness of her chest, his tongue flicked at her nipples and traveled down across her flat belly. He dropped to one knee, cupped her butt and moved her legs over his shoulders.

Elizabeth didn’t pay any notice to the cold wall on her back. The fire within her blazed. Bracing her back on the wall she twisted her fingers in his silky black hair. She was floating in air consumed by the emotions and sensations she was feeling. His touch pushed her higher, she thought she was on her way to heaven. His fingers probed her as his tongue tickled the silken folds, she cried out his name in sheer pleasure.

Not stopping his kisses, he gently moved her legs down and rose while she tugged at the stays of his pants. Elizabeth was amused when she found there was nothing between this man and his leather pants as she reached to release his throbbing manhood. His pulsating erection felt like velvet in her hands. Puzzola’s tremble and muffled groan told her of his struggle.

He leaned forward with both hands on the wall as she touched him. With the next clap of thunder he reached under her butt and roughly lifted Elizabeth and braced her against the wall. He had to become one with her. Elizabeth cried out in pleasurable surprise as he thrust inside her. Puzzola paused for a moment to allow her to become accustomed to him, but when he felt her muscles milking him, he couldn’t hold back any longer. With vicious ferocity he pushed Elizabeth to cry out in ecstasy before he exploded inside her.

Still inside her, holding her tightly he slid to his knees. The burning need did not decrease, his pulse continued to race.

He let out a shaken laugh, “Erick said you would bring me to my knees.”

“I’m not through with you yet,” Elizabeth felt a surge of newfound energy. Standing, she tugged hard at Puzzola’s shirt, buttons flying in all directions while nibbling on his ear.

She couldn’t help but stare at him once he had shed the rest of his clothing. His sculpted body called to her touch. The Painted Soul towered over her, his chest wet with sweat, all muscles tense and hard from their last workout. His black hair fell over his forehead and into his eyes. He flashed a lusty smile at her.

Elizabeth remembered the night they met and the way he smiled when she was caught staring at him. This time she kissed the lips beckoning to her, showing him her flaming passion. Her tongue stroked his, her teeth tugged at his lower lip. Feeling daring and wanting more, she became more adventurous.

“Let’s make a fantasy real,” she taunted as she kicked a large roll of canvas into unraveling across the studio floor. Elizabeth took Puzzola by the hand and led him to the center. His eyes glimmered with recognition of her plan.

“I hope you’re planning to use acrylic paint on this canvas,” his eyes never leaving her body while his smile only grew larger.

“Certainly,” Elizabeth presented him with a basket full of brightly colored tubes of acrylic paint.

Puzzola laughed when she opened a tube of paint and squirted a long snake-like color onto his chest. She smeared it across to his shoulders and down his belly without taking her eyes off his face. With an incredible sense of freedom, Puzzola removed the top from a tube of crimson and slowly spread the pigment over her breasts. The cool touch of the paint felt good against her warm skin. Elizabeth was living a dream she secretly coveted and she felt herself turning into putty at the mercy of Puzzola’s hands as he spread more paint on her.

Pulling him down to the canvas, she kissed him with the promise of more. As they covered each other’s bodies with paint they rolled around on the canvas. Puzzola grabbed Elizabeth by her shoulders and rolled on top of her. She counteracted by pushing him off onto his back. She surprised him by mounting him with one swift move. He massaged more paint onto her breasts as she began to ride him with pure sexual force. Their enthusiasm rose as they continued to revolve around the canvas, leaving paint trails, while searching for climax. Their search ended as they reached the pinnacle together.

Lying on their backs, they turned their heads to view to mess they had created. Puzzola’s body was tiring, but a power still lingered within. For a moment, navy eyes met his. Candlelight reflected the surge of emotions he was sure she was feeling. More than the emotion of lust was rising, he wasn’t sure he understood what he was experiencing. Yet, he felt comfortable in Elizabeth’s embrace. Their eyes still connected they began to laugh while lying naked on the canvas covered floor.

“That has been my fantasy for years!” Elizabeth shared.

“I think that has been every artist’s fantasy,” Puzzola teased.

“Well, I like to think mine was special.”

“I hope I was part of that fantasy before tonight.”


“You have green paint in your hair,” Puzzola pulled at a painted golden lock as he rolled to his side.

“I won’t tell what is green on you,” Elizabeth giggled.

“Oh, no,” he made the mistake of looking down. “What do you say to taking a shower?”

“I would say that could prove to be fun.”

The shower stall was very small but wasn’t a problem. Puzzola washed the Elizabeth’s mane while she washed various other parts on him. Hues swirled into a rainbow at their feet. Music continued to be heard from the studio. Puzzola felt rejuvenated.

“I still want you,” Puzzola murmured in Elizabeth’s ear as he stood behind her.

Lifting her hair, he licked the water off her neck and shoulders. His hands explored her body, exciting a renewed appetite. He held firmly onto her hips as she pressed against him. Elizabeth moaned when he entered her. Her breath came in short gasps with each thrust Puzzola made. He drove too hard, too fast and wasn’t able to satisfy her before himself. That was something that had never happened before, he was definitely out of control.

“I am sorry, my lady,” he said as he slid out of her, “I couldn’t help myself.”

Elizabeth turned and her smile melted him, “Let’s dry off, you can put lotion on me.”

“You wench,” Puzzola growled, “you’ll be the death of me.”

He stood frozen holding his towel as he watched Elizabeth dry herself. Puzzola felt himself craving her again. What would it take to overcome this burning hunger for her? Did he want to conquer his greed? He had to have more, but how much was he willing to give?

The music was off now, only the sound of the thunderstorm outside was heard. Candles in the studio flickered low. Lightening illuminated the room. Without saying a word, Puzzola lifted Elizabeth into his arms and carried her into the bedroom, gently laying her on the bed. Her arms draped over his shoulders, her warm gaze full of trust.

He took her mouth before she could utter a word. The kiss was expressive of the strength behind Puzzola’s pleasure. He wanted to make Elizabeth feel the way he felt. He wanted to give her an experience she’d never forget, but he was afraid he would be left wanting more.

“I want to feel your heat,” he murmured

Elizabeth’s heart raced as she lay on her back, wrapping her arms around him. She touched his cheek and ran her fingers through his wet hair as he kissed her. His kisses sent fire all over her body, his touch a pleasurable burn. She wanted to touch him, burn him.

Puzzola leaned on his elbow as he slid his hand over her stomach. He beamed at her, his eyes danced with delight watching her react to him. Her heart melted. He lowered his head to give her a kiss, more tender than any she had ever felt. His gentle hand traveled across her body to heighten her senses. She could be dreaming this wonderful night.

Sliding an arm under her, he moaned when she reached out to him. Elizabeth ran a hand over his chest and washboard abdomen, caressed his hard maleness, and then fluttered over the tight muscles of his thigh. With each touch she admired his physique as an artist admires a fine work of sculpture. She also focused on what his body had done to her and the limits he pushed her to. She felt free.

Puzzola’s kisses so tender, his touch so talented. His controlled moves drove her mad with hope that she would fly higher than before. She arched against him and pulled at his shoulder. He continued to cover her with soft nuzzles and kisses.

“This time, I want to savor every moment,” he stared into her eyes, “I have dreamed of tonight for years, but those dreams never prepared me for how I feel at this moment. Let me take you once more. Let me give you myself.”

She thought she would explode hearing his words. When he shifted on top of her, he slowly parted her legs. Elizabeth wrapped her legs around his torso, she could feel the tip of him teasing her womanhood. Puzzola slid into her wetness slowly then pulled out several times before sheathing himself all the way. He coaxed her with his technique to relax and enjoy the slower rhythm. She felt possessed by him, her body anticipated his movements and reacted with blazing intensity.

The wind rattled the open window as the lovers’ rhythm matched the tempo of the rain. Lightening lit the room. Elizabeth felt herself being driven to heights never achieved before. She desperately clutched Puzzola’s back and buttocks as his thrusts began to quicken. Her body arched into his, he drove deeper.

“I will take you where you want to be,” she heard him whisper.

“Oh, Puzzola,” she cried out, “take me with you!”

Elizabeth’s body trembled from excitement, her mind dizzy with emotion. Their souls danced together as they grasped for release. Lightening flashed, with a crash of thunder, the room exploded. Elizabeth cried out Puzzola’s name in paradise just as he called to her.

Puzzola slid off her onto his side, his body exhausted. Without a word, he kissed her and circled his arms around her. Elizabeth relished being in his arms and was about to drift off to sleep when she felt him stir and get out of bed.

Her heart went into her throat. She feared he was going to leave and possibly not come back. He returned from the bathroom and stood at the edge of the bed looking down at her. After a long silence, she gathered courage and sat up in bed.

“Are you leaving?”

“Only if you want me to leave, my lady,” he walked over to her and offered her a drink from the cup of water he was holding. “I have been called cold-hearted before but never a fool.”

He quietly placed the cup on the nightstand then crossed the room to the window.

“The rain isn’t coming in. Do you want me to leave it open?”

“Yes, please.”

Elizabeth felt something strong stir inside her as Puzzola crawled into her bed and tugged the covers over her. The pleasant sensation continued when he pulled her close. She felt she belonged in his arms, forever.

“You have my soul,” she heard him whisper before she fell asleep.

Puzzola lay awake for a while, watching her sleep. He smoothed her hair and snuggled closer. He knew one night would not be enough with his precious Elizabeth. He would need to feel her touch, taste her sweetness, and take her to heaven again and again. He would never be able to douse the flame he had for her. He had accepted the fact that he didn’t want to be without her.

She had set him free for a time, if only he could be free from his twisted life, his mental prison of his past. Free to love. A sudden pain stabbed at him, he would hurt her someday if he couldn’t give her his heart, his love. He didn’t want to hurt his soul mate, but he would savor the moments spent with her and give her what he could.



For more fun on the blog tour visit a good friend of mine, Dawne Prochilo and her blog An Open Book.

You MUST post a comment on each blog to be eligible for the prizes. Winners will be notified by Tuesday Sept. 14 2010 via email so please make sure you leave you email on the final blog entry (Chloe Waits) to receive your prize if you're chosen in a random drawing of all participants


Jeremy said...

What a great excerpt! I really enjoyed it. Have a great weekend!

Vivien Jackson said...

Paint sex = rowr!

*yadkny* said...

Thanks for that lengthy excerpt! The 2 lovers are really beautiful together.

Booksrforever123 said...

Wow! Hot excerpt! I just couldn't get over the hero's name-how did you come up with it? I keep thinking she was calling out for pizza or a puzzle every time she said his name.

Mary Quast said...

Puzzola is Italian for skunk. While he was attending art school in Italy, friends gave him the nickname because he had black hair with a white stripe. He kept the name as an artist and led a double life.

I got the name while having dinner in Denver w/ my hubby & friends. One fellow was Italian & I told him the problem I was having naming my character...he gave me the name!

Puzzola rhymes with Mazola (as in cooking oil)

Anonymous said...

WHEW! (fans self)

That was one HOT excerpt! Thank you! I am not an artist but I have thought of paint sex before. Could be fun!

Estella said...

That was a great excerpt! Never thought of painting as sexy.

Sherry said...

This was a great excerpt. I really enjoyed it and I love the hot picture it was a very nice surprise.

Beth said...

Great excerpt. Thanks.

Becca Dale said...

Oh my gosh, that was hot! I may never think of rain as a lovely, peaceful thing again.

Cathy M said...

What a lovely excerpt, Mary, thanks for sharing it with us. Very funny about Puzzola's name.

caity_mack at yahoo dot com

lindseye said...

Have enjoyed seeing all the stories that are available and meeting all the lovers.

Brandy B aka Brandlwyne said...

Hi. That was a awesome exerpt!!! Thanks for sharing...


Babyblue22 said...

That was one Hot excerpt!!
And I loved the pictures too! Thanks for the blog tour

ciara said...

Great excerpt. And I agree, rain can be very sensual. Especially warm rain.