Luna Lacour's Blog, page 2
February 14, 2014
STAR-CROSSED (Another Excerpt)
I felt particularly young in that moment; each centimeter of sugar-spun wallpaper and glossy, white brushed furniture a glaring reminder that for Mr. Tennant, walking into my bedroom was likely on par with stepping into a time machine.
He turned to me, a small twitch forming at the corner of his mouth. A shadow of stubble, sweetly sable eyes, slender fingers curling into fists.
“Take your clothes off,” I told him, sitting on the edge of the bed. “Slowly.”
I leaned back, flipped off the lights, watching him stand with his eyes on my legs and his chest sinking as he took a long breath.
He loosened his tie, pulling it over his head, tossing it aside. His fingers worked against the buttons – one, two, three – the fair plane of his chest exposed as the shirt fell from his shoulders. Where it landed, I didn’t care.
The metal scraping of a belt-buckle, the sliding of leather against leather. Pants buttons unsnapping as the wires in my brain synapsed. Fabric falling, crumpling at his feet.
He stepped out of his shoes, then socks, until he was only in a pair of black boxer-briefs.
I smiled, crawling to the edge of the bedspread and peeling his underwear down; a slow, relieved gasp – like the first breath of air after sitting in a stale room – escaped from between clenched teeth.
He knelt down, and I kissed his open mouth. His tongue grazed over my lips; he kissed my chin, my throat, my clothed chest. One hand cupped my face, the other traced down the chain that hung around his neck; he touched the ring tenderly, as if touching his own heart.
I unzipped the side of my dress, slipping out of it. He undid my bra, tossing it to the floor. I pulled my underwear down, kicking it off with a giggle that was only stifled when Mr. Tennant kissed me again; painful, perfect.
Our hands and fingers explored every curve and crevice; earlobe, inner-thigh, the slope of Mr. Tennant’s spine. My mouth brushed against every bit of skin, tasted the salty tang between his legs and the metallic cuts of aggressive kisses.
He was on his back, his face flushed, utterly boyish and yet entirely a man; every part of him glowed against pale pink satin. I sank inside of him slowly, gaping and gasping, our noses touching, our breath a mixed fog. Our fingers intertwined as I rocked back and forth, watching him unfurl in that beautiful, erotic sense of simply losing yourself in another person. His eyebrows knit, eyelids fell, lips pressed together tightly in a blissful fix. Our grip against one another tightened; I moaned against his chest.
We came together; a fiery explosion of white light. Maybe a part of us died right then; maybe we simply lost another piece of ourselves – a shard of our broken bodies – in one another.
Eyes flickered open; we kissed like school-children, quick and timid.
And I swear, right then, in his arms-
I would have been alright with dying.
If you are a reader/blogger and would be interested in receiving an ARC for review, feel free to reach out at LunaLacourAuthor@gmail.com. All copies will be sent out at the end of February.
He turned to me, a small twitch forming at the corner of his mouth. A shadow of stubble, sweetly sable eyes, slender fingers curling into fists.
“Take your clothes off,” I told him, sitting on the edge of the bed. “Slowly.”
I leaned back, flipped off the lights, watching him stand with his eyes on my legs and his chest sinking as he took a long breath.
He loosened his tie, pulling it over his head, tossing it aside. His fingers worked against the buttons – one, two, three – the fair plane of his chest exposed as the shirt fell from his shoulders. Where it landed, I didn’t care.
The metal scraping of a belt-buckle, the sliding of leather against leather. Pants buttons unsnapping as the wires in my brain synapsed. Fabric falling, crumpling at his feet.
He stepped out of his shoes, then socks, until he was only in a pair of black boxer-briefs.
I smiled, crawling to the edge of the bedspread and peeling his underwear down; a slow, relieved gasp – like the first breath of air after sitting in a stale room – escaped from between clenched teeth.
He knelt down, and I kissed his open mouth. His tongue grazed over my lips; he kissed my chin, my throat, my clothed chest. One hand cupped my face, the other traced down the chain that hung around his neck; he touched the ring tenderly, as if touching his own heart.
I unzipped the side of my dress, slipping out of it. He undid my bra, tossing it to the floor. I pulled my underwear down, kicking it off with a giggle that was only stifled when Mr. Tennant kissed me again; painful, perfect.
Our hands and fingers explored every curve and crevice; earlobe, inner-thigh, the slope of Mr. Tennant’s spine. My mouth brushed against every bit of skin, tasted the salty tang between his legs and the metallic cuts of aggressive kisses.
He was on his back, his face flushed, utterly boyish and yet entirely a man; every part of him glowed against pale pink satin. I sank inside of him slowly, gaping and gasping, our noses touching, our breath a mixed fog. Our fingers intertwined as I rocked back and forth, watching him unfurl in that beautiful, erotic sense of simply losing yourself in another person. His eyebrows knit, eyelids fell, lips pressed together tightly in a blissful fix. Our grip against one another tightened; I moaned against his chest.
We came together; a fiery explosion of white light. Maybe a part of us died right then; maybe we simply lost another piece of ourselves – a shard of our broken bodies – in one another.
Eyes flickered open; we kissed like school-children, quick and timid.
And I swear, right then, in his arms-
I would have been alright with dying.
If you are a reader/blogger and would be interested in receiving an ARC for review, feel free to reach out at LunaLacourAuthor@gmail.com. All copies will be sent out at the end of February.
February 7, 2014
STAR-CROSSED (An Excerpt)
We looked at each other, something bleeding through our eyes that was both a mix of desire and unshakable fear. We were both repelled and enthralled, alive and wavering in that small stretch of space between safety and chaos.
Let it be known that I crossed the line first. William Tennant, before that irreversible second, was an innocent man.
Pressing him against the wall, I stood on my toes, and kissed him.
At first, his hands shot up, like a criminal marked with a red hot target; like he was facing certain death by firing squad. They fell slow as quick-sand, eventually finding my hips where they settled with a shaky hesitancy, hovering just above the fabric.
There was no gripping of limbs, no clashing of teeth against teeth. Mr. Tennant kissed my mouth like it was something to worship, something to savor. Delicate and delicious, his breath shallow as a pool of puddle water. And if I were still a child, still stuck in the age of sticky-sweet candy and hop-scotch, I would have jumped and played in that murky depth forever.
In the dark, it was impossible to see him. All I had were what my remaining senses could grant me: touch and taste and the soft, intoxicating sound of his lips against my own.
I reached down, slowly, and pressed a hand against his covered erection. If he smiled, I couldn’t see it. I felt totally empowered. Awesome not in the sense of something great, but in that sole ability to bring a grown man to his knees.
“What are you trying to do to me?” he asked. Only there was no seductiveness to the question, no intent to arouse. It was a genuine plea, each word cutting like a razor against calloused flesh.
“I could ask you the very same thing, Mr. Tennant.”
I was touching his face, my fingers tracing over the full petal-soft flesh of his lips. The darkness was entirely impenetrable; it was impossible to see whether I was looking into his eyes or something else.
Around us, the sounds of cars hissing against wet pavement and the wind through branches told us that there was still life outside, even if everything in that moment, between my teacher and I, had managed to freeze. Our mouths met and parted with a fluid urgency, his hands still quivering like a teenage boy that had never touched a girl before. Like this was our first shared experience.
Will cupped my face in his hands, his breath fading in and out, rising and falling. The scent, the warmth, it had already imprinted into my cells.
“I need to know what you’re thinking,” he said.
I thought about Juliet, and how she had avoided playing the games that so many other women did. She had succumbed to her true passions. And here I was, locking lips with a man who was entirely fooled; there was no trace, no idea that he was also the key element to my freedom. A pawn in a bet.
I kissed him again, an unspoken apology.
“I’m a monster,” I told him. He smiled, like the three words were a joke, leaning in and pressing his mouth against mine. Hot, hot heat. Our mouths didn’t break apart for what felt like a slow-burning eternity. We were breathless bodies in the all-encompassing night. “We’re both monsters.”
Let it be known that I crossed the line first. William Tennant, before that irreversible second, was an innocent man.
Pressing him against the wall, I stood on my toes, and kissed him.
At first, his hands shot up, like a criminal marked with a red hot target; like he was facing certain death by firing squad. They fell slow as quick-sand, eventually finding my hips where they settled with a shaky hesitancy, hovering just above the fabric.
There was no gripping of limbs, no clashing of teeth against teeth. Mr. Tennant kissed my mouth like it was something to worship, something to savor. Delicate and delicious, his breath shallow as a pool of puddle water. And if I were still a child, still stuck in the age of sticky-sweet candy and hop-scotch, I would have jumped and played in that murky depth forever.
In the dark, it was impossible to see him. All I had were what my remaining senses could grant me: touch and taste and the soft, intoxicating sound of his lips against my own.
I reached down, slowly, and pressed a hand against his covered erection. If he smiled, I couldn’t see it. I felt totally empowered. Awesome not in the sense of something great, but in that sole ability to bring a grown man to his knees.
“What are you trying to do to me?” he asked. Only there was no seductiveness to the question, no intent to arouse. It was a genuine plea, each word cutting like a razor against calloused flesh.
“I could ask you the very same thing, Mr. Tennant.”
I was touching his face, my fingers tracing over the full petal-soft flesh of his lips. The darkness was entirely impenetrable; it was impossible to see whether I was looking into his eyes or something else.
Around us, the sounds of cars hissing against wet pavement and the wind through branches told us that there was still life outside, even if everything in that moment, between my teacher and I, had managed to freeze. Our mouths met and parted with a fluid urgency, his hands still quivering like a teenage boy that had never touched a girl before. Like this was our first shared experience.
Will cupped my face in his hands, his breath fading in and out, rising and falling. The scent, the warmth, it had already imprinted into my cells.
“I need to know what you’re thinking,” he said.
I thought about Juliet, and how she had avoided playing the games that so many other women did. She had succumbed to her true passions. And here I was, locking lips with a man who was entirely fooled; there was no trace, no idea that he was also the key element to my freedom. A pawn in a bet.
I kissed him again, an unspoken apology.
“I’m a monster,” I told him. He smiled, like the three words were a joke, leaning in and pressing his mouth against mine. Hot, hot heat. Our mouths didn’t break apart for what felt like a slow-burning eternity. We were breathless bodies in the all-encompassing night. “We’re both monsters.”
November 11, 2013
Cover Reveal (Finally!)
Here it is, the cover for STAR-CROSSED. To say that I'm excited would be a huge understatement.
November 4, 2013
Author Spotlight + Teaser
The amazing Tracey Spiteri of YA Book Addict has featured me in a Spotlight - including an official teaser from STAR-CROSSED. Check it out!
http://youngadultbookaddict.blogspot....
Also, once I reach 100 adds on Goodreads I'll be releasing a brand new photo teaser. So feel free to share around!
http://youngadultbookaddict.blogspot....
Also, once I reach 100 adds on Goodreads I'll be releasing a brand new photo teaser. So feel free to share around!
October 15, 2013
Meet the Cast of STAR-CROSSED + Facebook Giveaway
Yesterday, I did a little "Meet the Cast" fun on my Facebook. I thought I'd share the photos here, for those who haven't seen them yet. Enjoy!
"The Lure" - Kaitlyn Laurent
Three facts:
1. She loathes Trinity Prep.
2. Her favorite instrument is the violin.
3. She was an only child - until Marius came along, that is.
"The Player" - Marius St. Vincent
Three facts:
1. He's far from saintly.
2. His favorite past-time is sleeping with women. And fencing.
3. He's fluent in French.
"The Bet" - William "Mr." Tennant
Three facts:
1. British. Enough said.
2. Teaches Literature and directs the Trinity Prep theater productions.
3. Performed the role of Romeo at London's renowned Globe Theatre...once-upon-a-time.
"The Friend" - Tyler Dawson
Three Facts:
1. He's a Scholarship Kid at Trinity Prep, and comes from very little money.
2. Yes, he plays guitar. No, he's not a douche-bag.
3. Befriends Kaitlyn when the two are cast in Trinity Prep's stage production of Romeo and Juliet.
I'm so excited! Also, if you'd like to 'like', here's my Facebook page below. I'll be running a lovely Giveaway when I reach my first 500 followers. It would be wonderful if even a few of you readers would please spread the word!
Facebook:
https://www.facebook.com/pages/Luna-L...
I'll be posting again soon. Happy Tuesday, everyone!
"The Lure" - Kaitlyn Laurent
Three facts:
1. She loathes Trinity Prep.
2. Her favorite instrument is the violin.
3. She was an only child - until Marius came along, that is.
"The Player" - Marius St. Vincent
Three facts:
1. He's far from saintly.
2. His favorite past-time is sleeping with women. And fencing.
3. He's fluent in French.
"The Bet" - William "Mr." Tennant
Three facts:
1. British. Enough said.
2. Teaches Literature and directs the Trinity Prep theater productions.
3. Performed the role of Romeo at London's renowned Globe Theatre...once-upon-a-time.
"The Friend" - Tyler Dawson
Three Facts:
1. He's a Scholarship Kid at Trinity Prep, and comes from very little money.
2. Yes, he plays guitar. No, he's not a douche-bag.
3. Befriends Kaitlyn when the two are cast in Trinity Prep's stage production of Romeo and Juliet.
I'm so excited! Also, if you'd like to 'like', here's my Facebook page below. I'll be running a lovely Giveaway when I reach my first 500 followers. It would be wonderful if even a few of you readers would please spread the word!
Facebook:
https://www.facebook.com/pages/Luna-L...
I'll be posting again soon. Happy Tuesday, everyone!
