The masses have responded! In honor of my Facebook Author Page reaching 500 likes I am sharing an excerpt of my current work-in-progress, Making Patterns. An erotic romance featuring seamstress Nyra Sellet and her paramour Astrid Ferelin, Making Patterns takes us deeper into the world of Abiniam (the setting for my other novel She Will Become in which these two characters are first introduced) in the years prior to Nyra’s appointment to Court Clothier under King Reese Westphalia. This story explores how Nyra and Astrid met, fell in love, and came to the positions they hold in She Will Become.
Without further ado I give you the promised excerpt from Making Patterns.
Astrid made Nyra wait in the front room of her shop while she dressed. The seamstress fidgeted anxiously, straightening her mannequins and adjusting the clothing they displayed although they didn’t need the attention. She kept a keen ear out for any sounds of difficulty or distress but heard nothing from the other room. Alternating between worrying over Astrid’s opinion of her work and awareness that the girl was in some tantalizing state of undress only feet away, Nyra’s mind was a whirlwind of conflicting thought.
It had taken her only four days of designing and choosing fabrics before she began work, having taken Astrid’s measurements that same afternoon of the proposal. The session had been a challenge to her professionalism and creative drive. Astrid had smelled of hot sun and sweat intermixed with the sweet aromas of cream and berries rising off her skin and from her hair; a heady combination that set hunger blazing through Nyra’s limbs. She had been hard pressed not to turn her knotted strings into tools of foreplay, constantly reminding herself to count the knots and take the string away lest her fingers linger too long in one area or stray beyond the lines that needed accounting.
The most difficult moment of all had been in taking the measurements for Astrid’s inseams, needing to place the end of her string in sensitive and as yet unexplored areas. Nyra had felt the girl’s pulse leap as she’d pressed the string along the length of Astrid’s inner thigh, inches away from her center. Her knuckles were basted in rolling waves of moist heat and her head spun as desire made her dizzy.
Feeling Astrid’s trembling and hearing her sudden ragged breathing had only made it worse. She’d wavered, achingly tempted to simply shift her hand upward into the yielding flesh visibly hungering for her touch and give the girl the rousing bout of lovemaking they were both craving. It was only the thought of Astrid garbed in a shirt, jacket and trousers of her design and made thoroughly Ahron that brought her back to her purpose. Taking care to keep her touches light and counting quick Nyra had made swift work of taking the rest of the girl’s measurements before finally giving in to the ardent need to taste and devour Astrid’s lips.
Now, a day ahead of schedule Astrid was donning the results of Nyra’s determination and talent. They had no plans to immediately set out, having agreed to stick with the original plan and lunch the following day against the backdrop of the ever present ocean as it pounded the shore and made Quoral the trade city it was. Today was for introduction and last minute adjustments or fixes. Yet Nyra was still apprehensive – what if Astrid didn’t like it? What if she was uncomfortable in the cut? She’d said she’d never worn trousers before. Would all her work be for naught, their outing canceled due to Nyra’s failures?
She fretted and fidgeted, twitching and pacing. Time stretched on endlessly or so it felt. The silence emanating from the other room was a double edged sword that bled Nyra of her anxiety. Without realizing it Nyra played with her hair, something she hadn’t done since she was a child full of nervous tendencies and tells. Twisting and twining her chestnut curls between her fingers in mindless repetition, she chewed her lip and resisted the urge yet again to call out to Astrid and beg comment.
Just when she thought she might go mad with the silent waiting the curtains separating the rooms parted as a figure stepped through them. An involuntary gasp escaped her when, for a dozen startling seconds, she didn’t recognize the person standing in front of her. Dressed in a smart brocade vest of luxurious brown against a vibrant bronze over a high collared indigo shirt, a strange man with familiar dusky blue eyes and fair eyebrows surveyed her from beneath the upturned brim of his hat. He stood with a slight swagger in the set of his narrow shoulders and angle of his hips, thighs long and muscled under a pair of mahogany trousers that bloused at the knees and tucked into calf length black boots.
Normally unaffected by a man’s body Nyra reeled with sudden and visceral sexual attraction. Her throat went tight, her mouth dry as paper. The rest of her body burst into flames and every ounce of liquid her mouth once held now flooded her core. A low growl of appreciation and hunger rumbled out of her.
The sound served to shatter the effect as the man’s expression shifted from remote interest to girlish delight. A jaw line once firm with stoic resolve softened as a pleased smile gushed forth. The swagger disappeared into a sudden feminine withdrawing, the imagined existence of external genitalia no longer an impetus for cocking the pelvis outward.
Ahron dissolved into Astrid so smoothly Nyra was shaken. Her face felt hot and her heart beat so hard she could both see and feel her pulse behind her eyes. Trying to speak availed her not. She could only stand and gape open mouthed, amazed, awed, and overwhelmingly aroused by what she just experienced.
“Did it work? Was I convincing?”
Black spots danced at the edges of Nyra’s vision, distracting her. She focused on them and realized she was holding her breath, having forgotten how to breathe. Sucking in heady gouts of air she tried again to speak but had no words, having forgotten everything but yes, yes, oh love, yes but her tongue felt foreign in her head, unwieldy and useless. But Astrid needed an answer so she did the only thing that felt right; she swept across the room and kissed Astrid. Her mouth opened under Nyra’s sudden onslaught and it was there in the humid cavern of Astrid’s waiting mouth that Nyra’s tongue remembered how to communicate.
You are stunning, she said in deep plunges that plumbed the back of Astrid’s throat and set their teeth cracking against each others.
I want you, I love you, I need you, she intoned licking at the insides of Astrid’s cheeks and dancing along her tongue teasingly.
I am yours for the taking, for mastery if you wish it, she confessed in long draughts that sucked Astrid’s tongue into her mouth.
Astrid’s arms came up to surround her and Nyra was crushed to a firm, flat chest. Her attention momentarily diverted to marveling at what felt like the complete erasure of Astrid’s feminine endowments, her fervent communications stuttered and then stopped as Astrid nudged her head aside to nuzzle and nip at her neck. A soft yet distinctly masculine growl washed over her tender, sensitive skin. The vibration traveled through her and touched something deep inside turning her innards to water and knees to jelly. She sagged into the crushing embrace and reveled at this unexpected side of Astrid – so confident and self assured in demanding the dominant role.
If you’d like to read more of Making Patterns or get to know Nyra and Astrid better be sure to Follow my Facebook Page or this blog for more information on character profiles and possible further excerpts!
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