1 blog + 31 authors = 31 Days Of Hotness
Cornelle Keveen is a new and upcoming contemp author with a truly distinctive voice. He’s almost certainly a new name for you right now, but give him a few years and you’ll be able to brag that this is where you saw him first. His fiction debut has been acquired by an independent publisher and will be announced soon. It’s a pleasure to welcome him to July Fever
(see below for giveaways)
P.S. This video makes a great soundtrack for Cornelle’s Flash Fiction
About the author
I am dark, brooding, and potently masculine. I was Challenged by the lovely Ms. Sofia to submit something for this Hot little blog and despite a mountain of adversity that you wouldn’t believe, she managed to get this one out of me. And I thank her for her patience. I’m sure that I’m a little different from the other fabulous authors that have appeared here. (I’ll leave you to figure out just what the difference is.)
But I promise you that we’ve just begun to scratch the surface. I look forward to the prolonged continuation of sharing my world with all of you.
Thanks for stopping by and please come back and spread the word,
Caught In A Trap
Benzini is the kind of man women dream of when the man they have becomes less than appetizing. He’s tall, dark, pretty damned handsome even on his worst day, and while he might not be rich, his ass is employed. Compared to most, he’s an ocean front condo in the heart of a housing project. But all they can do is dream because I’ve got my legs wrapped so tight around Benzi, he has to breathe through his ears. What I want. He gets for me. What I need. He provides. It’s just that simple and I take full advantage of it.
Larissa mused over the control she had over her boyfriend as they drove to her favorite night spot, a hole in the wall on a dead end street called The Back Road Lounge. It was a place she’d never go alone. At least that’s what she told Benzini. The regulars there knew better. To them Larissa was one of the main attractions. There weren’t many women with curves like hers. She was a tiny woman, five foot two inches when flat footed, but she had the body and gait of a premier ballerina. There was one patron of the Back Road Lounge who held a special appreciation for Larissa’s attributes.
I wonder if he’ll be there. Who am I fooling? Of course he will. I just hope he doesn’t start any shit. He’s so damned unpredictable…so raw and bold. I never know what he’s going to do. And it turns me on so much I can’t stand it. I love Benzi but Polk can make me cream just by walking across the room.
“You really like coming to this cave don’t you? “ Benzini’s voice interrupted her secret thoughts. The masculine rumble of his black Dodge Challenger came to a halt after prowling into a corner parking slot.
“It’s something to do right?” Larissa casually shrugged with faux innocence meant to illicit a reaction.
“You’re so full of shit. You know that? Think I don’t know your every move, woman? I know this is one of your little digs. I don’t miss shit, Lar. Might want to remember that about Benzini, baby.” He shook his head and exited the car before she could even reply.
Larissa cursed him not so silently as she waited for him walk around the car to open her door.
He’s polite even when he’s being an ass. Always the gentleman… unfortunately.
She accepted his hand as a lady should, but her eyes scoured the parking lot in search for that certain someone else even as Benzini’s eyes devoured every succulent inch of her now five foot seven inch frame, courtesy of heels by Michael Kors. The slip of a dress she wore left very little to the imagination but she was certain Benzi’s agile mind would meet the challenge.
“Damn, girl. Are you sure you don’t want me to help you out of that dress instead of helping you out of this car? He crowded her to brush up against her with that long body of his.
“Mmmm, Benzi?” He had her backed up inside of the open car door and it took everything she had not to climb all six feet of him to the very top to cradle his face between her thighs. It was totally out of character for him to carry on in such a way, especially out in public. He behaved like he knew someone was watching. “You trying to start something you know you can’t finish out here?” Her purr was one laced with seductive promise but she knew it was wasted. He was performing for someone and she knew it.
He’s here. I know it and so does Benzini. I might be his weakness but he knows that Polk is mine. Bastard.
She pushed him away with playful disgust. Larissa was in a mood to tease not be teased. A not-so-gentle tug at her shirt sleeve was an indication that she was ready to get her groove on.
“Bring your ass on, Benzi before I make you fuck me in this parking lot.”
“Don’t threaten me with a good time and walk away, chick.”
She could feel his eyes crawling all over the sway of her ass as he trailed just far enough behind her. Her response was to give him even more. The groan was almost too easy to coax from that primal place inside all hopelessly horny men.
“Larissa are you wearing anything at all underneath that thing, baby?”
“You tell me, Benzi. I can tell feel you counting the sweat beads dripping down my back. But to answer your question, no I’m not. It’s July. It’s hot. I’m hot. And I’m planning on going in this hole in the wall to sweat even more.” She turned on her heels abruptly to allow him to crowd her once again. She craned her neck and bowed her back allowing her eyes to take a scenic journey up the length of him.
“Don’t you like to see me wet and misted over?” She asked expectantly.
“Oh I like it enough but damn, Riss. I’d like to be able to do something about it.” He leaned in low to press his nose into the soft curls draped over her left eye. He raked his fingers through tapered tresses at the nape of her neck.
Larissa moaned coyly before pulling away from him once again. “You said you preferred my hair long. If I recall correctly, you said a woman should always wear her hair long. Change your mind?”
He laughed and twirled a fingertip in his ear. “Uhh I might let you persuade me otherwise.”
They continued to make their way towards the door of the club. As engaged as Larissa seemed by Benzini, still she was on edge. She anticipated a scene, a confrontation. Little did she know, the drama would pop off before she made inside.
Doors swung open before they could open them and there he was, surrounded by his usual entourage, a poster child for steroid abuse named Bruce, and the guy who gave new meaning to the term chain-smoker aptly named, Train a.k.a. Chug Chug. Bruce was a behemoth of course and Train was just the opposite. He looked like cancer on a stick. Both men towered over the compact, tightly built guy Larissa knew as Polk. She locked eyes with him and the world stopped.
She could feel Benzini strengthen his grasp of her fingertips as he closed in closer behind her. Still she noticed he managed to stay an arms distance away. Perhaps he wanted to see how things played out. The moment Train realized who she was he broke out into a coughing fit. Bruce made an attempt to fold his arms over his chest but muscles once again got in the way.
“Say, Polk, there’s “Lil Bit” right there.” The big guy offered with a nod. Larissa cringed when he referred to her with obvious familiarity.
Polk just stood there staring at her. His eyes never left hers until he let them drift to her stiletto heeled feet. She watched as the corner of his lip rose in a show of disapproval. He hated when she wore high heels because it gave her a height advantage. In five-inch heels she gained three inches on him.
“Po are you gonna let the woman get past you or what? I think you’re in the way.” Train chuckled with a cough.
“I’m in the way?” Polk asked as he found Larissa’s eyes again.
It was about to happen. She could see it in his eyes. The air between them thickened like warm syrup poured on a bed of ice cubes. Larissa moved towards him, drawn by some force she didn’t dare define. Her fingers slipped from Benzini’s tentative hold.
“Larissa.” Benzini’s voice came from some far away place. It was like a beacon engulfed by a dense fog. Her nipples itched beneath her dress, agitated and confined beneath the expensive fabric. The memory of Polk’s tongue tracing lazy circles around them played on her mind.
“Larissa.” The voice was louder and it was accompanied by the shackling grip of a hand around her wrist.
Benzi. God! I forgot I was here with Benzi. She turned to look up into the eyes of her savior for the moment. Disbelief clouded his gaze. He was obviously bewildered. She didn’t get a chance to explain. A fist full of her curls was grabbed and she was wrenched away from Benzini almost violently. When she slammed up against Polk’s the breath left her body. His mouth seized hers with rough passion. She moaned outwardly and screamed inwardly as the moisture seeped from where her thighs joined. He kissed with anger. The kind of kiss left her lips bruised. She could taste marijuana, vodka and sex on his tongue. Her sex. After all, she’d spent the entire morning letting him feast. The kiss was like a mind wipe. All that was left in its wake was him. Polk.
Larissa spent the rest of the night in his arms, grinding and bumping against an endowment which seemed to be more fitting a much taller man. Polk practically fucked her on the dance floor without removing a stitch of her clothes. Hours passed until the club lights came on. She and Polk staggered outside arm in arm to greet the coming dawn.
A black Dodge was parked right in front of the door. Leaning against the passenger side door was Benzini. Someone else was standing next to him. Larissa squinted and lifted a hand to shield her eyes from the glare of the new sun.
“Fuck.” She stopped in her tracks and pushed away from Polk.
“What’s wrong with you, Lil Bit?” He asked unaware.
“He’s here.” She gave a slight nod of her head in the direction of the car.
“Him? So what? Fuck him.”
“No not him. I’m not talking about Benzi. My husband. That’s my husband. Eric.”
Cornelle is offering 1 ebook, taken from the following options:
End Of The Line by Ash Penn
Any of Cari Silverwood’s titles
Glory by Ali Katz
Table For Three by Bobbi Romans
Remember, commenting will also put you into the Weekly Prize Draw for all these gifts:
Please join me tomorrow when I welcome DB Reynolds to the last day of July Fever