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Moonbeams of Unintended Consequences by
@SexyMuffyWilson ~ Cover Reveal and Teaser
Moonbeams
of Unintended Consequences
by Muffy Wilson Yellow Silk Dreams Publishing |
Blurb:
THAT night…
SHE wore a
flowing, form fitted white spaghetti strapped gown that cascaded in tumbled
silken folds to her abdomen and revealed her breath in the soft rise of her
alabaster breasts. Her eyes reflected an emerald depth with gold flecks that
edged to hazel and were framed by neat, arched brows that narrowed to her
temples where her heartbeat announced the rhythm of her life. Her only
adornment was a starkly white gardenia nestled in the curves of her auburn. The
heavy floral fragrance of the corsage announced her arrival as she glided
elegantly to her aisle and settled, like a dove, into her center seat. She was
alone…but not for long.
Would she regret
her indulgence?
HE was a towering,
self-assured giant of a black man, chest broad and arms outstretched in opulent
black leather. His intense black eyes locked irresistibly onto her and declared
his hunger. The opera house erupted with his full bass-baritone harmony. His
musical seduction began, and his hypnotic gaze was met by her eager response as
she answered his desire with a blush.
But, was his
desire enough?
THEY spent an
insatiable night together in Room 457 of the Historic Whitcomb Hotel locked in
a magnetic embrace riding moonbeams of passion and ribbons of desire that wove
them irretrievably together in ways that only the future would disclose—a
future neither of them ever anticipated. Would the secrets of the past, of that
one night, prove too much to bear as the future unfolds the truth and the
depths of her desperate need?
Would the life and
death struggle she faced overshadow the seeds of love planted a decade earlier?
Teaser:
The orchestra
warmed up in a disconnected, faltering collection of notes, strings and horns
as the wealthy patrons filed into the theatre and were settled. She wore a
flowing yet form fitted white spaghetti strapped gown with a backline to the
small of her back above the well-rounded cheeks of her ass. The cascading
neckline tumbled in silken folds to her abdomen which revealed her breath in
the soft rise of her alabaster breasts.
She was of medium
height with an envious rubenesque shape most men admired: long, shapely legs
nipped tightly at the ankle tapering to narrow, small demi-feet elegantly
adorned in satin heeled slippers with scarlet, well-pedicured peek-a-boo toes,
full breasted bosom with pert erect nipples stretched against the fabric of her
gown, round hips that accentuated a narrow waist and a lovely pleasing back
that joined all her sumptuous qualities. Her eyes reflected an emerald depth
with gold flecks that edged to hazel and were framed by neat, arched brows that
narrowed to her temples where her heartbeat announced the rhythm of her life.
Her rounded cheekbones accentuated the graceful curve of her jaw line as it
narrowed to a slightly dimpled chin below heart-shaped ruby lips. Her only
adornment was a starkly white gardenia nestled in the curves of her auburn
curls that caressed the pale white opaque flesh of her face. The heavy floral
fragrance of the corsage announced her arrival. She glided elegantly to her
aisle and settled, like a dove, into her center seat. She was alone.
The house lights
dimmed yet she glowed, demurely, in the white gown as if she were unmistakably
the main attraction.
She stared as he
walked onstage: a towering, self-assured giant of a black man, arms
outstretched in black opulent leather to embrace the audience, she felt to
embrace her. His piercing gaze locked irresistibly onto her, in all her radiant
purity. His intense black eyes seemed to declare his hunger.
The opera house
erupted with his full bass-baritone harmony. He sang, it seemed to Jordan, to
no one but her as she smiled quite involuntarily. Each throaty, reverberating
note he released strummed every nerve to her very foundation. His musical
seduction began, and would surely end she thought, with her in his outstretched
arms.
Her petulant
feminine petals nestled in the protective mound where her thighs joined. They
slowly filled with her eager response and unfolded the protection of the
essential pearl of her existence as she answered his desire with a blush.
She sat through
the entire performance tethered to his gaze. The magnetism she could not resist
overtook her fully and her responses were involuntary yet welcome. She felt his
gaze through her gown caress her, push her, tease her and excite her with every
deep vibrato he released into the hall.
She was,
therefore, completely surprised when the lights raised and the fluid embrace of
his voice was gradually replaced by the swelling bustle of movement from the
exiting audience. She looked to her left and right, then up to the stage
beautifully shrouded by long red opulent velvet curtains separating her from
the object of the gathered passion in her belly.
Her reverie
broken, she returned to the moment at hand. As she rose, the romantic trance
invoked by his voice broke, the hold eased, and dropped shard by shard from her
body so that she could move. She gathered her wits, shook off the spell and
seemed to float in the afterglow with the others to the atrium. She exited the
main entrance to the broad threshold above the street below.
She took a few
steps outside and shocked by the damp San Francisco night, drew her wrap ever
tighter to her heaving breast, her nipples still erect from the seduction of
the opera star. She paused a moment, enjoyed the remains of her trance, and
proceeded down the steps to hail a cab.
The after symphony
reception was held at the home of one of San Francisco’s most prominent elite,
a huge supporter and member of the Symphony Board of Directors, Drake Morrison.
Drake and his wife Amelia were friends of Jordan’s parents who were absent
because of a holiday in the Orient. Jordan’s parents were regular supporters of
the Symphony and met the Morrisons frequently during intermission on most opening
nights for a glass of champagne. She had been invited as a distraction from her
solitude to join them on opening night at the reception in their home. She
agreed to attend eagerly as she often attended the symphony with her Mother
when her Father was unable.
She felt her
low-belly tighten; her heart pounded and her palms tingled with perspiration in
anticipation. The main opera lead and cast always came to the receptions. The
non-profit organization relied upon their attendance to boost donations so she
knew she would see him here and she wondered if he would even recognize her or
if the reverie of connection had been hers alone.
When he entered
with his entourage, he towered over everyone with his black elegance. He was
beautiful, a stunning black onyx statue carved to magnificent perfection. When
she saw him, only feet away, she staggered slightly as he turned to her with an
outstretched hand in greeting, eyes locked in a magnetic embrace. She lost her
breath and her heart in one moment as she touched his fingertips with hers.
He clasped her
hand with the both of his and pulled her close to his body with a knowing smile
curled on the curve of his chiseled jaw line. She felt his heat, was hypnotized
by his aroma. She knew then that he remembered her in the audience; he had sung
to her, he had sent his words in musical notes on foils to surround her, lift
and seduce her.
The moment was
suspended when he was directed to further introductions. He bowed ever so
slightly with his departure and barely whispered, a bientot, mem’selle, his
breath searing her neckline. She weakened in his presence and felt
ill-balanced on a passionate precipice as he moved away. Their arms
outstretched unwilling to be parted, her hand slid from his as their fingertips
relinquished an electric hold.
“A bientot,
mem’selle,” he had said. She hung on every word with rapt expectation for
their next meeting as he moved into the crowd of admirers.
She watched as he
worked the room, seducing male and female alike with his charisma and brilliance.
He was a master in the simple ministration of his charm. He spoke with
confidence, smiled at nonsensical nervous banter and made everyone most relaxed
in his presence with an effortless touch.
The night edged on
and she resigned she was like all the others, seduced by the sheer presence of
the man. She sought out the Morrisons and bid them a grateful goodnight. She
went into the library where her wrap was hung. A manly black hand extended and
took it from her grip and as she spun, he curled her into his embrace as well
as the shawl.
“My room key at the Hotel Whitcomb. The town car service I
called to take you there is waiting outside. Room 457. Have I presumed too
much?” as he pressed himself to her body and the key card into her hand. The low
melodious tone of his voice melted any thought of resistance.
“I, ah…No, you have not presumed beyond expectation. I ache to feel you inside
me, truly, and I thank you for your discretion. The Morrisons are long time
friends of my parents who don’t yet consider me a grown woman,” she smiled into
his down-turned eyes and smelled his heat.
Muffy Wilson ~ Author Bio, Contacts and Propaganda
Author Bio and Links:
Muffy, author of erotic, romantic stories about
love, sex, hope and passion, was born in San Antonio, Texas, to traditional
parents. With two older brothers, she was the youngest, the family
"princess," indulged and pampered. She adored her older brothers,
following them everywhere and was surrounded by love, stimulation, and pets.
Her father was a career Colonel and pilot in the U.S. Air Force which required
the family to travel extensively. The family lived in most points between
Alaska and France. Muffy spent her formative years in Europe and came of age in
France.
Returning from France with her family, Muffy
finished high school in Northern California and attended the University of California, Davis, and majored in Business
Management. Muffy entered the work force, independent with a fierce work ethic,
and retired at 39 from IBM as a Mid-West Regional Director in the Real Estate
and Construction Division. She and her husband moved to a small Island in
northern Wisconsin where they owned a historic tavern, restaurant and resort
business which they since have sold. They now live a charmed life by the water
in SW Florida. Muffy pretends to
be a serious real estate business person but, in real life, indulges her
private interest in writing sexy short stories and sensual literotica ~ Live,
Laugh, Love with Passion.
Previously Published:
Secret Cravings Publishing, Oysters &
Chocolate, Decadent Publishing, Ravenous Romance, Yellow Silk Dreams Publishing
Coming Soon:
Cheerleaders in Heat ~ TBA Summer 2015
♥ Thank you ♥
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Thank you so much, Gemma, for posting about Moonbeams. It should be out this week and it is sooooooo exciting!! You are a dear. Blessings from Florida! xo
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