Sunday Snog: A seaside kiss...

Reading Victoria Blisse's blog about Smut by the Sea made me search out a seaside Sunday Snog. This is from my story Boil or Bake featured in Alison Tyler's Heat Wave.

I can almost smell the saltwater...

From Boil or Bake by Sommer Marsden
[p.s. I pulled this out of my uncorrected proof and read it through real fast on the fly. Any errors you see are mine and not in the final text. :P]


“Blowing off steam, hunh?” he leaned in but didn’t kiss me. He simply hovered there within kissing distance, my cheeks buzzing and tingling with his close proximity.“Yep.”“I could help.”“I was hoping.”His mouth was sweet and soft and tasted like saltwater and bitter beer. I let him cup my face, let him push me back into the soft sand. Somehow we were insulated from the crowd—far enough away that no one was paying little old us a lick of attention.“By the way,” I said as his hand tangled in my long hair, tugging just enough to start my pulse thrumming. This was the stuff that summer one night stands were made of—the ones you talk about when you’re old and gray after having one too many drinks. “Is it boil or bake?“What?” When I put my hand on the fly of his jeans and stroked the hard cock I found waiting and ready he cleared his throat and said again “What?”“I said, is it boil or bake? Are we at a clam bake or a seafood boil?” “Bake,” he said. “See there, the pit in the sand? If it were a boil—“I squeezed his cock hard enough to make him sigh and shake his pretty blond hair. “Yes?” I chuckled.“We’d be boiling it, in a pot…”I froze and then tilted my head back, laughing at the sky. “Oh fuck. Duh.”His mouth came down over my pulse, his lips soft but insistent. His teeth nipped the jumping flesh on the slope of my neck and I worked my button, pulled down my zipper. “I hope you won’t think me forward—““Please, Alice, be forward—“ He sighed it out and I smiled. The air was purple now. The wind whipping our hair around, stealing our voices.“Can you fuck me? Can I fuck you…” I grinned feeling like my teeth must be damn near neon in the dusk because his were. “Can we fuck, Mike?”