A Handful of Fire

by Alexis Alvarez

  He licks along my clit on each side, then along the top, and when he does it again, again, my breath comes fast and hard. The arousal is building in me; the little waves are starting to crash into each other and combine into something wild and big. “So close,” I gasp. “Gabe.” I spread my thighs wider, lewd, and yank his head to the left. “Here, here, keep doing it like that, please,” I sob. “Yes.”

  “Maybe I’ll make you wait,” he murmurs. “Will you hold it if I tell you to?”

  “Yes!” I wail. “But please, I want it.”

  “One more minute. Don’t come until I tell you.”

  There’s no punishment here; if I come, I come, and he’ll make it as good as he can, but the order makes me hot and I love it, so I comply, even though it’s killing me to stave it off. I buck and wiggle, trying to get away, then closer, to keep riding the crest of the wave. He holds my thighs in his powerful hands but lets me wriggle just enough to keep myself there where I need to be. It’s been longer than a minute and I tell him. “Gabriel. It’s been a minute.”

  “I lied. Another minute or two. Maybe five. Come and you’re in trouble.”

  I moan, an extended moan, and fist my hair, tugging it hard. He reaches up to play with my nipple while he licks and teases, using the other hand to push into my wetness and rub. The combined touches make me wild and I get so high, the feeling is so intense, that it nearly scares me. It goes on and on. I need to let this go so I can enjoy it. Riding the edge feels so good, but my body can’t hold back any longer.

  “Please, now!” I cry out, and he relents. “Come now, Shai. Come onto my tongue.” But it’s not just his tongue, it’s his lips and his fingers, both hands on me, in me, one in my ass, one deep inside my pussy, and I come apart into his fingers and face, screaming my pleasure out, the feeling so good and fierce that it hits me, white lightning, the entire universe compressed into an exploding star, blinding pleasure lighting up each nerve in my body until I glow, incandescent, lighting up my entire life in my mind. It goes on and on, and I cry and wail, moving my hips against him so I rub and maximize the pleasure.

  When I’m done, I moan out a long sigh and flop into the pillow, boneless. But then I turn to him. “Fuck me now. I want you to come, too.”

  “Think you can go again? On your back, legs wide.”

  I lie back and bend my knees, spreading my thighs. “Look.”

  “Fuck.”

  He positions himself and glides into me. He got me so wet it’s indecent, but it’s perfect. “I love you so wet,” he whispers, and bites me. “I’m going to fuck you so hard, Shai.”

  I nod and brace myself, and he’s not lying, he pumps hard, driving into me, filling me with his body, over and over. My entire body moves with his, and I’m surprised we’re not bashing into the headboard. He grunts as he pumps me and his hips get faster as he gets closer. To my surprise, I feel a surge of matching emotion in my belly, and it grows with each stroke.

  “I think I’m going to come again, too,” I announce.

  “Yeah, fuck, do it, come,” he grunts, but he can’t wait for me, and he cries out, a wordless sound as he pulses and stills, his cock hard in my body. He rests for a second, then pumps again, furiously for a few seconds, rests, then does it again. And at this final surge of passion, I come too, clenching hard around him. It’s different from the first one, deeper somehow, muted but rich and textured, and then it grows, taking me by surprise as it morphs into a fiery burst of sensation that spreads through my entire belly and vagina, making me cry out and pump back at him to milk every last ounce of this feeling.

  He stays in place until I relax back down, then he pulls out and lies flat on his back, breathing hard, eyes shut. I see his eyelashes flutter and I cuddle up into his body, throwing an arm over his abs, letting my finger trace random patterns over his skin while we come back to earth.

  “I love you,” he whispers, taking my mouth with his.

  “I love you.” I touch the spot at the side of his hip. “This is my favorite part of you.”

  “Really? Right there?” He glances down, then looks at me with a smile.

  “There are other parts I enjoy, too,” I tease him. “But I like touching here. It just feels good, for some reason.”

  “I like right here.” He touches the small of my back. “Did you know you have little dimples, here? When I put my tongue on them, it feels so good.”

  “I’ve never put my tongue there, so I never knew.”

  “Smart ass.” He slaps my hip, a light tap. “I should spank you.”

  “Someday, if you’re good to me.” I kiss his arm.

  We melt back into each other.

  The leaves are all luscious and thick, and the grass is green, and there are bees humming in the lilacs, but they don’t bother us. Michael pokes me. “Mom? Mom? Look. Mom?” He points at the patch of clover. “Want to watch me find a four-leaf clover? Mom, watch.”

  I pull away from Gabriel’s arms. We’re lying on a blanket in the park, our picnic packed in a brown paper bag beside me.

  “Yes, I do, Michael. Show me.” His hair is long and messy over his face. It’s time for another haircut, but Gabe and I are reluctant to do it, enjoying the feel of his mangy mane. Besides, he says it’s the cool style to grow it out, so who are we to argue?

  Gabe sits up. “Those are hard to find, Son. I used to try all the time when I was a kid. Don’t get disappointed if you can’t find one.”

  Michael’s voice is smug. “Dad, I saw a clip about it on the Scientific American website. Did you know that one in every ten thousand clovers has four leaves? That means that in a big clover patch, you can find four-leaf clover in a patch that’s just 1.2 square meters. All you have to do is scan and let your peripheral vision find the one that sticks out. I bet I can do it in under five minutes. Time me, okay? Set the timer on your watch.”

  Gabriel chuckles and pushes a button. “One, two, three, go!”

  Michael starts scanning his head back and forth, and Gabe and I smile at each other. In less than a minute, Michael shouts, “Yes! I’m the champion! I knew I could do it!” He tugs a piece from the patch and waves it above his head. “All hail the supreme expert of all things botanical.” He puts it up to my face. “See? See?”

  I take it in my fingers. “Great job. I love it.”

  “Dad?” He takes it from me, gives it to Gabriel. “See, I did it.”

  “Excellent. You never cease to impress me.”

  Michael smiles. “You can keep it, Mom.” He tosses it to me and pulls open the bag. “Can I have a sandwich now?”

  “Yes.” I lie back onto Gabriel’s chest, looking at the clouds, holding the tiny emerald plant in my fingers.

  “When Brandon gets here with his family, I’m going to teach him how to do it.” He tugs out a peanut butter and bacon sandwich, something I think is disgusting, but all the fifth-grade boys are bringing them to lunch these days. Something about exploratory food adventures.

  Across the park, I see Anna running up, her braids bouncing on her shoulders. Kelsie and Paul follow, holding hands. They’re doing okay these days, better than okay. Kelsie and I keep each other updated on critical family matters, and I know, for example, that Paul gave her three screaming O’s last Friday night, and that they laughed until their stomachs hurt over a foreign sitcom on Netflix.

  I don’t know if Gabriel would appreciate this, but I told Kelsie (for her ears only), that Gabriel is so good with his tongue that he should be forced to register it as a lethal weapon, because when he’s doing certain things, he can get me to agree to anything.

  “When it’s time to start the grill, I want to do the flint, okay, Dad?” Michael sounds urgent, and Gabriel nods his assent. It’s old school, maybe, but it’s become our tradition now to bring our old charcoal grill to our monthly BBQ with friends, and use the flint and steel to start our fire. Michael even made a video and shared it with his classmates, who were rightfully impressed.

  It’s fantastic to s
ee the first spark flare and summon more sparks, as if encouraging them with its very existence. Something so ephemeral, bursting into the world like magic, something gorgeous and free created from friction—it’s nothing short of spectacular.

  When Gabe and Michael first start the fire, with their hands cupped around the embers to protect them from stray gusts, it looks like they have a handful of sparks. The light reflects from their eyes and faces and bounces back to me and into the sky.

  And when the fire flares into life, struggling, and then strong, a fire that we’ll all circle around, a ragged group of friends, laughing together, I know this: We are all the flint. We all hold the fire within us. As long as we don’t give up, as long as we keep our spark alive and let it join with others, we can create a powerful fire. We can make our life amazing.

  The End

  Dear Reader,

  Thanks so much for your time! I hope you enjoyed A Handful of Fire. It was a book that lived in my mind for a long time before I finally wrote it all down. I was inspired by a friend of mine who lost her son to childhood cancer. The characters in this book are not based on her or her family, but the themes of courage, strength and finding beauty in life come from her.

  I hope that you, too, are able to find your own courage and strength, and the beauty that comes from the fire within you.

  Thanks!

  Love from Alexis

  Information about Pleuropulmonary Blastoma

  PPB, pleuropulmonary blastoma, is a rare, aggressive cancer that affects young children. It occurs in the lungs or in the pleura, the covering on the lungs, and often spreads to other body parts. When a cancer spreads, it is called a “metastasis.” The most common metastasis for PPB is the brain.

  There are several different types of PPB, and they usually affect children younger than eight.

  Children who get PPB didn’t do anything wrong, nor did their parents. There is nothing a family can do to prevent PPB from occurring.

  PPB is not related to adult lung cancers which can be caused by smoking or tobacco usage. Researchers believe that PPB can sometimes be due to a genetic component, specifically mutations on the DICER1 gene. Because it’s such a rare disease, there is still much research to be done to understand all of the causes and to refine treatments.

  Treating PPB usually consists of surgery, chemotherapy, radiation, or a combination of the three as determined by the child’s doctor.

  Children who battle PPB are courageous, strong and full of hope. Thank you to these organizations who can help children and their families fight PPB and other diseases:

  Hope for PPB, Hope Kids, St Baldrick’s and Caring Bridge

  Information was obtained from the following sites:

  www.rarediseases.org/rare-diseases/pleuropulmonary-blastoma

  www.cancer.net/cancer-types/pleuropulmonary-blastoma-childhood

  www.stlouischildrens.org/health-care-professionals/publications/doctors-digest/february-2012/research-news-discovering-pleuro

  If you’d like to connect with me, I’m on Facebook as Alexis Alvarez.

  You can also find me at the website I share with my two sisters, who are also romance writers, or on my Amazon page:

  www.graffitifiction.com

  More Books by Alexis Alvarez

  Return

  Dream Girl

  Boston

  Myka and the Millionaire

  Capturing Kate

  Casey’s Choice

  Hi! I’m an author, photographer, wife and mom who loves travel and laughing with family. I write two kinds of books: Contemporary romance with heat, and BDSM/kink. All of my books have an HEA and feature strong female heroines who go after what they want in life.

  I try to make my books full of poetic prose, and weave in themes of art, music, mythology and philosophy. Writing is my ultimate joy.

  Thank you

  Excerpt from Casey’s Choice

  Blurb:

  When trendy young artist Casey Reilly sneaks into Chicago’s most exclusive club under a fake name, it isn’t long before two rich, handsome men are vying for her attention. The club’s owner, billionaire Jax Hunter, is the first to make his move, but when he discovers her deception he has difficulty forgiving Casey.

  After Hunter’s cold response to the truth about Casey’s identity leave her dejected, Max Abbott doesn’t waste time in stepping in to pick up the pieces, and he promptly gets to work on mending her broken heart. But when Hunter decides to try to win her back, Casey will have to make the most important choice of her life.

  Excerpt:

  “What do you think, Casey? Think I know what to do?” He held up his hands, ran one finger over his lips. “Think I know how to make a woman scream in pleasure?” He raised one eyebrow. “Answer me.” His voice was harder now. “Tell me what you think I might do to you tonight if you’re a good girl.” He sat up and leaned his elbows on his knees. “Or else you won’t get anything from me.”

  Excerpt:

  He raised his eyebrow, and the mood between them ratcheted up into something erotic and dangerous. “Before I go, we have one piece of unfinished business.”

  “Oh? And what is that?” Her voice was sultry, and she ran a finger over his hand. “Do you need to fuck me again, Hunter?”

  He shook his head. “I wish I could, but there’s no time for that.”

  “Then…what?” Confused, she frowned, but comprehension dawned when he said, “Last night I promised you the brush and the crop. I always keep my promises.”

  Her eyes widened. “But –”

  “Now.”

  “You mean, now, now?”

  “Yes.”

  “If I don’t want to?”

  He leaned in and whispered into her ear. “Don’t worry; you’ll want to.” And the simple touch of his lips to her skin had her heart hammering in her chest and arousal surging in her body. God. And when he added in his regular voice, “Fetch the crop from my room,” she sucked in a breath, lost in his dominant gaze.

  Excerpt:

  “Do you trust me to stop when you ask?” He touched her face.

  “I think so. Yes.”

  “Think so isn’t enough. You need to be sure.” He smiled. “And once you’re sure, then you can try to forget that you’re sure, and enjoy being a little scared about what I’ll do to you. A little anticipation and anxiety makes it more exciting.” He bent and ran his lips over her neck, so softly that it felt like air. “A little pain, Sofia, and a lot of pleasure. The exhilaration of not knowing what’s next, and accepting it anyway.”

  Casey’s Choice on Amazon:

  Excerpt from Boston

  Blurb:

  Parker Minelli, a fitness trainer and cover model, is every woman’s dream. His Boston accent, chiseled abs and easy-going nature have women flocking to him. But when he meets author Abby, whose brains are bigger than his biceps, he sets out to prove that he’s more than just a pretty face.

  Abby is thrilled—and a little breathless—when Parker agrees to work with her on her next book release. However, they soon discover that while opposites may attract, that doesn’t mean that they can overcome their differences. Especially when Parker’s supermodel ex-girlfriend reappears.

  Will they be able to see the big picture and accept each other as they are, or will their differences close the book on their chance at love?

  Chapter One from Boston

  We’re late—the show’s about to start, and for a minute I hold my breath, sure the bouncer will tell us no. But Liesl does a tiptoe thing in her black heels that makes her boobs stick out, and whispers into his ear, letting her fingertips brush his upper arm, and he smiles. Then he murmurs something to her and waves the three of us in, where we’re hit with flashing red and blue lights and a pulsing beat. At least a hundred women are screaming at the announcer, who’s dressed only in a thong and a strip of black cloth that barely covers his generous—make that extremely generous—endowment.

  “Lees,” I whisper. “I’m not s
ure this is such a great idea.”

  She pats my hand. “Calm down, Abby. With the crazy sex you write for your books, and the shit you research on YouTube? This is kindergarten. Don’t be scared. Let’s get a drink.” She leads me and Marr to the bar and we slide onto stools decorated with faces of some of the Men Got Moves guys.

  Marr wiggles back and forth on her seat, which has a picture of a sexy blond man sticking out his tongue. “Yes, right there. Oh, so good!” she wails.

  I recognize that the pictures are there for that exact reason—so women can laugh and joke about getting oral—and it’s a genius idea, and I want to congratulate the person who thought it up. But it’s still sort of horrible when it’s your older next-door neighbor saying it. “I’m not scared, Liesl. It’s just that maybe I should just wait and meet him in person tomorrow. Also, these places are kind of demeaning.”

  I narrow my eyes at Liesl and she flips me her middle finger before ordering three margaritas. Marr is hitting on the bartender, a built guy in his twenties, and even though Marr can coug’ with the best, I hope she realizes that her prey is playing for the other team. I roll my eyes when she reaches out a long red nail and scratches it down his bare chest, licking her lips.

  My stool has a dark-skinned Adonis whose lips are pursed for a kiss, but I decide not to send a fake orgasm into his laminated mouth. I whisper, “Do you think we should have brought her here?”