Day two of our blog exchange–is it getting hot in here, or is it just us?
Don’t forget to comment! At the end of the day, we’ll be picking one commenter from yesterday and today to win a Lush body massage bar—and we’ll announce the winner on the blog at the end of Tuesday.
We were naughty as children, and we’re naughty as adults. Wordsmiths, we might be, but that doesn’t mean our favorite words are erudite and urbane!
Ok, spill: What’s your favorite naughty word? (Hold the soap, please)
Meg Benjamin: Probably freakin’ which isn’t actually all that naughty (shows you what a confirmed closet naughty I am). I mean, I could use f*ckin’ which is actually what freakin’ stands in for or friggin’ which sounds a little old-fashioned to me. But to me, freakin’ has that kind of naughty vibe—implied naughtiness rather than explicit naughtiness.
Kinsey Holley: the F word of course. (shouldn’t really use it right now, since I’m writing this on Good Friday).
Sydney Somers: Bite-me.
PG Forte: Cock, because it’s so versatile. For example: “I was born in the Chinese year of the ____.” If you guessed Cock, you’re absolutely correct. It also happens to be true, by the way.
“I used to keep chickens, including two ____s.” Yes. Cock again. Also true.
“In bed, I love to suck ____.” Well, you get the picture, right?
Okay, just one more: “I love it when my husband ____s his head to the side and waits breathlessly for my next order.” Yeah, I’m still waiting for that to happen. But, any day now…
Erin Nicholas: FUCK. Definitely. No question.
Kelly Jamieson: For someone who’s a bit of a naughty writer, I’m shy to say my favorite naughty word: f*ck. Can I say it? Fuck. I love this word for its power and incredible versatility. It can be an expletive. And it’s a good one, with the hard “k” sound at the end. It’s also effective when you just say “fffu-” without the ending. I particularly like, “What the fuck!” It’s a noun – “A good fuck” or even “he’s a stupid fuck” or “I don’t give a fuck”. It’s a verb – “Let’s fuck”. An adjective – “fucking idiot”. And an adverb – “fucking awesome”.
Skylar Kade: This is a hard choice. I like the word C*nt, not necessarily as a description for anatomy (though I have been known to use it) but more as a curse word. Few words still shock people when you say them–many of us have been too inured by modern media to jolt at the word fuck–but “C U Next Tuesday”? Still gets a rise out of people. Not to mention that I think a good curse word–or, hell, a good piece of anatomical slang used during the heat of the moment–should be full of hard consonants. Just sounds angry and intense.
Juniper Bell: PUSSY! Pussy pussy pussy. What can I say, I’m a cat person. Seriously, I think it’s a lovely word, very soft coming off the tongue (I know, that sounds bad). I wish I could have it as my first name without sounding like a James Bond character. Can you imagine a character called “Cunt Galore”? It seriously would not have the same ring to it.
I’m also partial to “cock.” ‘Nuff said.
Kate Davies: I’m a big fan of the word “fuck”, because it can be used as any part of speech. Really. My study group in English class in college went to a lot of trouble proving it. What can I say, I’m a grammar geek.
How do you like to shock people with your language?
What did you say–more excerpts?
Sinking to her knees, she wrapped her arms around him, tucking her face against his neck.
He growled, and she jerked back. Had she hurt him?
One solid arm immediately swept her back in. “Closer.” He rolled to his side, taking her with him, his unbreakable grip pinning her in place.
For ten seconds she didn’t move. Didn’t talk. Didn’t squirm. Didn’t breathe.
And apparently she’d had the right idea because the second she dragged in a quick breath, his tempting masculine scent came with it. Instantly, she remembered that it had been a while since she’d been this close to a man.
A naked man.
Okay, so she was a little preoccupied with the naked part. She could think about what that said about her when the gargoyle wasn’t trembling all over.
Noticing just how naked he was might have only been a blip on her radar if he’d been primed to attack her. Except neither cat nor man had done more than rub against her. Even now, his body quaking, the gargoyle moved his hand across her back in shaky circles.
That had to explain why she found herself relaxing into him, settling her palm on his chest. Another rumbling growl echoed inside him, but before she could pull her hand back, he flattened it with his. This time when the same rough sound came, he nuzzled her cheek.
She sucked in a shocked breath, releasing it in slow degrees as though it might stop her from wanting him to do it again.
It didn’t work. And it really didn’t stop her from turning her face toward his, feeling his rough jaw sweep across hers. She’d had her share of lovers, yet couldn’t remember any of them ever holding her so possessively.
Her two minutes stretched into ten, maybe longer as his shaking slowly subsided to the occasional shiver. Good news if she didn’t count the way his hands moved up her back, lulling her into melting against him.
Lulling her into some kind of false security for all she knew. Maybe that was how he planned to get even with her—lower her guard with lazy caresses and soft words.
She concentrated but couldn’t understand what he whispered in her ear. Not that she cared when every warm breath and graze of his lips stirred something inside her.
Lust, she decided.
He was still naked, after all. Now that he wasn’t trembling so badly, she didn’t feel the least bit guilty drinking in the solid span of his shoulders and corded biceps. A faint line ran down the middle of his defined abdomen, disappearing into the shadow where their bodies pressed together. Trim hips and long legs extended well past her own, putting him well over six feet, she guessed.
Her gaze traveled back up, following the column of his throat to his jaw. She inched her head back a few degrees, finding his mouth. A cocky grin caught the corner of his mouth—one she recognized from the memory flashes—as though he knew exactly how much women enjoyed looking at him.
Knew how much she enjoyed looking at him.
In half a second flat she found herself on her back with the gargoyle looming over her. Raised on his elbows, he wedged a thigh between hers, giving her no room to squirm away without rubbing against him.
Squirming was definitely out. So was breathing. Again.
“Don’t go.” Stronger but still rusty, his voice made her stomach grow hot and tight.
Only when she realized he waited for confirmation did she manage a slow nod. “Okay.” She just couldn’t figure out which of them she was lying to, since she’d ceased listening to her common sense right around the time he’d wrapped his arms around her.
Still, he stared at her, waiting.
God, when had the air grown so dry? She licked her lips and swallowed anxiously. “I’ll stay.”
A lazy grin stole across the gargoyle’s face, as though she’d just offered herself up on a platter, slathered in whip cream.
Definitely a mistake. Too bad it was hard to remember that part when he dipped his head and nuzzled her throat.
Butterflies, the hot and silky kind, fluttered like mad under her ribs. She bit her lip only to have her breath hiss out as he trailed up to her jaw.
“I knew I’d find you.” He dragged his cheek across hers.
“We’ve never met.” She would have remembered the way his dark hair fell in careless strands across his forehead, or the arrogant slant to those full lips, as if he anticipated her complete surrender.
And there was no way she would have forgotten those eyes, especially when they turned almost feline on her.
“No, we haven’t met.” He teased his mouth along the sensitive skin below her ear. “But I’ve been waiting for you.”
“This is totally amazing!”
Tom smiled as he watched Jessica lean against the thick green railing, a chill wind rushing through her tousled red-brown hair. She spread her arms wide, bracing herself against the railing of the small deck overlooking the front of the ferry.
Below, white-capped waves crashed against the edge of the car deck, leaving puddles on the walkways and riming the safety ropes with salt.
She turned around, laughing with delight. “You were absolutely right. This is exactly what I needed.”
He flashed a cocky smile. “Told you so.”
“I think it’s what we both needed,” she said. “It’s wonderful to set the stress and pressure aside for a few hours.”
“Glad you enjoyed it.” Tom squinted into the distance. “We’re about fifteen minutes from docking.”
Jessica sighed. “Then back to reality. Thanks again, Tom.”
“You still have a couple of minutes. Sure you don’t want to do the whole Titanic thing? I promise I won’t let you fall off the front of the boat.”
Jessica rolled her eyes at him. “I’m feeling better, but I’m not exactly king-of-the-world material. And I don’t think there are any icebergs in Puget Sound.”
Tom nodded. “It’s cold, but it’s not that cold.” He reached out and pulled her coat collar closer together, tucking the fringes of her scarf around her neck to block out the wind.
She stilled, her eyes darkening as she stared at him. Tom’s grip tightened on her coat, his fingers clutching the fabric. Slowly, deliberately, he lowered his head to hers.
Their previous kisses had been spontaneous combustion. This one was a steamy, languid dip in the Olympic Hot Springs. He tasted her lips slowly, placing soft nibbling kisses from corner to corner. Angling his head, he pressed his mouth against hers and swept his tongue across her lower lip.
Her mouth opened on a sigh and he moved forward, noting with pleasure the exact point where the chill of the outdoor air gave way to the heat of Jessica’s mouth. His ears tingled and his cheeks were close to numb from the winter wind howling across the small ferry deck. But inside, he would swear he was running one hell of a fever.
She was close, so close, but with all the layers of clothing between them she might as well have been against the opposite rail. Tom groaned, gripping her lapel as he continued the kiss, his overactive imagination helpfully supplying a reminder of the sweet curves buried under all that winter wool. Thank God he was bundled up just as tightly, or she would be getting a very clear picture of how much he was enjoying this repeat performance.
Suddenly, the ferry gave a pitching roll, shuddering as it lifted above the waves and heaved down again. They stumbled apart, both clinging tightly to the other’s coat and breathing heavily.
Through sheer force of will, Tom unclenched his fingers and released Jessica’s now-wrinkled charcoal gray winter coat. He ran a hand through his wind-tossed hair, sucking in a deep breath. The air was thick with exhaust from the ferry engines, combined with the tang of salt spray and impending rain. And overlaying it all was the crisp citrus scent of Jessica.
She leaned forward, resting her forehead against his chest. He watched as a shuddering sigh traveled the length of her spine. Even through his winter layers he could feel the heat of her breath as it puffed against his solar plexus. A shiver wrapped around his midsection.
She mumbled something into his coat, but the combination of rushing wind and rumbling ferry engines drowned out any chance of hearing it. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders, leading her back toward the relative warmth and bright lights of the main cabin.
But before they could go inside, she grabbed the lapel of his coat and dragged him past the doorway into the darkened alcove under the stairs to the upper deck.
“What are you—?” His statement was cut off when she wrapped one hand around his neck and pulled him down for another kiss.
She began talking between kisses, her words almost lost in the feverish embrace. “I. Don’t. Want. To. Stop.”