Steamy Saturday: No Rest for the Wicked


Copyright- Artfully Aspiring

Copyright- Artfully Aspiring

*Note: This is Part Three of a continuous Steamy Saturday series. Please visit Part One and Part Two to ensure ultimate steaminess.*

The subtle movement of the bed pulls me out of my sleep, as Mitch lies down next to me. I keep my eyes closed and struggle to keep my breathing shallow. I’m sure he’s too decent of a man to try anything while I’m sleeping, but I partially wish he wasn’t.

The screams of my body, aching for his touch, go unanswered. Eventually, I accept the reality that he fell asleep as soon as he hit the pillow.

But then I feel the slight bowing of the bed as he rolls on his hip, moving closer to me. Though we’re not touching, I can feel the heat of his body filling the gap between us. My pulse quickens, and I suddenly feel the jolt of energy to make the next move. Before I can, his arm encircles my waist. Mitch pulls me against him, and there’s a frenzy of excitement in my body, making it impossible to suppress a smile. He buries his head into the side of my neck. The stubble on his chin tickles me, while his sultry breath invigorates my tender skin.

You need to wake up,” he murmurs softly into my hair. I press myself into him further, fusing every curve of my body to his. “Come on, Abby,” he says, and I can hear the smile in his voice. I giggle under my breath and intertwine my fingers around his.

Abby, we’ve got to move!”

My eyes shoot open, and Mitch is standing by the door, with the black bag in his hand. My heart drops. I scramble off the bed and try to pull myself out of the dreamy fog. I look down to see that I’m still fully dressed, shoes and all, and I suddenly feel incredibly gross.

Can I shower, at least?” I quickly comb my fingers through my knotted hair.

Not here.” He grabs me by the hand and pulls me against the door with him. “A couple of them just walked into the motel office,” Mitch says in a hushed voice while scanning through the side of the window.

How could you see them?”

They can change into practically any form, and right now, they’re humans so they can track us easier.”

What do we do?”

Well, I’m guessing they’ll get the guy to rat on us, one way or another, and we don’t have enough time to book it to my bike, unnoticed.” He looks back at me, his eyes steady. “They’re going to ambush us.”

So, we’re just going to let them?”

He grabs me by the hand and takes me to the bathroom. “You need to stay in here, and I’ll take care of them.”

Can’t I help?” Is all I manage to ask before Mitch closes the door between us. I hear heavy scraping across the floor and then a thud against the bathroom door. The fact that I’m barricaded-in answers my question. With nothing else to do, I lean against the door to listen.

Nothing but subtle clicking and metallic popping sounds, as Mitch loads whatever weapons he’s kept hidden in the bag….And then, silence. Though I can’t see him, something between us tells me he’s collected and prepared, and that comforts me a little.

The crashing glass and splintering wood rip through the silence. Instantaneously, gunfire pierces my ears. I jump and trip backward into the shower. As I slam into the porcelain, I hear a pause in the chaos. Then, heavy footsteps approaching the bathroom. The ground shudders as the dresser separating us is shoved to the side. I press myself further against the wall and reach to pull the shower curtain closed, but I know it won’t save me.

Mitch!” My voice trembles and cracks.

The doorknob violently shakes, and my eyes lock onto the little button in the middle, praying it doesn’t give way.

Mitch…Please!” I scream, tears streaming down my face.

I watch as the knob loosens, weakening with every rattle. And then a heavy force slams against it. Two more gunshots just outside the door and then a strange sizzling.

Abby, unlock the door!” Mitch yells between labored breaths.

I gain stability in my quivering legs before running to the door. As soon as hit the button, Mitch pulls me out with one arm, wrapping it around me and pulling me through thick smoke. All I can see are the several writhing bodies sprawled across the room and the morning light guiding us outside.

My lungs fight for oxygen as we run to the bike. Mitch promptly sits me on it and intently straps on my helmet. I want to help him, by my fingers refuse to move, and my trembling lips refuse to speak. He presses his hands against my cheeks, as his eyes dart across my face.

Are you alright?”

I part my lips, but nothing.

Abby?” His voice waivers.

Mitch’s eyes widen, as his hands frantically pull-off my helmet and slide to the back of my head. The soothing rubbing of his fingers as they examine my skull enlivens me. My nerves begin to weave back together.

Yes,” I murmur loosely.

His hands jump to my face again.

Are you ok?”

I nod my head.

Alright, you’re riding up front.” He slides me to the front of the bike before sitting behind me. Mitch places my feeble hands on each of the handles before pulling a combination of switches and levers and placing his strong hands beside mine. We fly out of the parking lot and harshly turn onto a main road. My body jolts around with each bump until Mitch slides further into me and presses his thighs against mine. I feel secure, but I also feel…

Abby? Abby, stay with me! We’re almost there,” his voice cuts through the rambling of the bike.

I hope you enjoyed this week’s Steamy Saturday. I posted it a bit early because I’ll be gone for the weekend, while traveling across the state for my first 5K since my significant running injuries last fall. So, while I may not respond to your comments promptly, I truly appreciate them and would love to hear your input!

Keep it steamy,


*P.S. In case you’re wondering, I’ve decided to use personal photographs for Steamy Saturday posts from this point on. I wasn’t finding the photos I was looking for online, so I decided to take matters into my own hands. I am by no means a model, so take it easy on me! Also, these images may not be reproduced or redistributed, not only because it is my body and my property, but because no one wants to see that! 😉


Steamy Saturday: On the Run

Copyright- Artfully Aspiring

Copyright- Artfully Aspiring

I don’t know about you, but it’s been a while since I’ve steamed up my Saturday- a month-and-a-half to be more specific. It’s been rough, but I think the chaos has died down enough to let the steam roll in again. In case your memory is a bit fuzzy, please visit the first post of this Steamy Saturday series. And if you’re new here- well, you don’t have much catching-up to do!



I clutch his jacket tighter with every bump and curve. He’s driving fast, and I worry that the moment I lose my grip around Mitch’s sculpted body, I’ll fly off the back of the bike and into the claws of whatever might be chasing us.
After following the shoreline of Lake Michigan for nearly an hour, we finally slow down as we turn into a small motel with a faded wooden sign that reads, “Whispering River Motel.” Without saying a word to me, Mitch parks and climbs off the bike. I quickly follow him into the main office. He speaks with an older man behind the desk, who’s warily glancing at the license and credit card Mitch hands him. Meanwhile, I pull my drowsy gaze across the lodge-inspired wallpaper and to a rustic, bear shaped clock that tells me it’s 11:33 pm.
Okay, so maybe we were riding for more than an hour…
Anxiety trickles into my blood as I realize that, wherever I am, I’m a great distance from my home…with a man whose last name I have yet to learn.
“Alright, Mr. Glazebrook. Will this be a standard room or the lovers’ sweet?”
“Standard with two beds,” Mitch quickly responds while tapping his fingers on the desk.
“All we have left are single beds, sir.”
“That’s fine.” He slowly exhales, but it doesn’t relieve the visible tension from his body.
“Here ya go,” the man says while handing a single key to Mitch. “Room thirteen, the last one on the right.”
Before we walk to the room, Mitch returns to his motorcycle and grabs  a small black bag from the hidden compartment. As we walk into the musty motel room and turn on the flickering wall sconces, Mitch promptly closes the door behind us. He tightens all three locks and then glances through the curtain at the nearly empty parking lot. After a few seconds he turns to face me, his furrowed brow softens a little.
“How are you?” His eyes are on mine, but I know his attention is elsewhere.
“I…I’m fine,” I cautiously reply while sitting on the edge of the bed. He slowly paces around the room as if he’s searching for something.
“Look, it’s been a rough night. You should get some sleep.” Mitch walks to the other end of the room and pauses at the large window, looking out into the woods behind us.
“Aren’t you going to tell me what the hell happened back there?”
Still facing the window, I notice the back of his head slightly pivoting as he peers between the trees. “There’s not much to say at this point, Abby.”
“What are you talking about?” I burst up from the bed and approach him. “We almost got killed…by things we couldn’t even see. You blew up the bookstore, for heaven’s sake!”
He quickly turns on his heel and, placing his hands on my shoulders, pushes me away from the window.
“We’re not much safer here than we were back there, alright? You need to sleep while I figure out what the hell to do next.”
“I thought you said this was your life. Why don’t you have a plan?”
“This life is too sporadic to allow for planning,” he snarls. I sit back down on the bed and watch as his skin reddens, his veins surface, and his pacing quickens. “You think I knew they were tracking me? Like it was my plan to get you in the middle of all this?” He runs his hand through his hair before tightening it into a fist. “Any other time, I’d be fine. But now that you’re here, it makes my job a hundred times more difficult. Not only do I have to find out what the hell is after me-us, but now I have to watch both of our backs.”
“Sorry I’m such a burden,” I snap, “Just take me to a bus station, and I’ll get out of your way.”
Mitch stops in his tracks and takes a deep breath before sitting next to me.
“Look,” his voice softens, “I’m not behaving like I should, and I’m sorry for that. Thing is, I wasn’t lying back at the bookstore when I said that anyone that get involved with me and this lifestyle always gets hurt. It’s hard enough trying not to get myself killed.”
“Okay, then I’ll just go home, and you won’t have to worry about me anymore.”
“That’s the thing, Abby…” He turns to me with a look of defeat. “You’re already in this. The second they saw us together, they branded you with a kill tag. Not just them, but all the other wretched things out there have just added you to their hit-lists. There’s no compromising or exceptions. Once you’re a target, they won’t stop until you’re dead.”
My stomach drops as I realize the deadly reality of everything. This isn’t just some fantasy or weekend fling. My fate is marred and in the hands of a complete stranger. Everything that I thought was myth and fiction is now a haunting possibility. Shivering, I wrap my arms around my stomach. Seconds later, Mitch takes off his jacket and places it over my shoulders.
“Am I ever going home, back to my regular life?”
Mitch doesn’t respond. All that’s to be heard is the faint squeaking of the wooden motel sign, swinging back-and-forth in the evening breeze. With nothing left to say, I move to the head of the bed and slide beneath the covers. Mitch turns off the light and sits in the chair beside the window, still facing me.
“You can sleep in the bed too,” I mention, noticing the faint glow of the street lamp accentuating his stoic features, which I strangely find comforting.
“I’m going to keep a lookout and determine our next move.” His eyes scan the parking lot before returning to mine.
“You’ve got to sleep sometime.” I worry that my persistence is exposing my desire for his body to be next to mine.
“I will when you’re safe.” I know there’s nothing left of this discussion.
“Alright…Goodnight, then.” I close my eyes and replay this awkward, yet intense, sequence of events with this mysterious man. My heart sinks as I settle in to this cold, lonely bed. I’ve always been independent, but this is a rare time in my life where I could really use some support. But then I remember that I’m nothing but a liability to him.
As I drift off, I peek between a sliver of my eyelids.
Mitch’s gaze drifts across my face, the hurricane in his eyes now turned calmed waters.



Thank you so very much for steaming up your Saturday with me! To be honest, I had to de-steam this post a bit to make next week’s even hotter! I truly hope you enjoyed this, and I hope your weekend is filled with steam, spice, and everything nice!

Steamy Saturday: Playing With Fire

Happy Saturday to you! I felt bad not posting a Steamy Saturday last week, but it was a ridiculously busy week for me. I was overwhelmed by the process of selling my car and buying a new one in a matter of four days! The little time I did have, I felt it was more important to respond to comments on my published pieces and catch-up on all of my lovely friends’  blogs than to turn out another piece of my own. I’m still playing catch-up, so I apologize if I haven’t made it to your blog yet. I just had to write another story of my own this week because I’ve found that if I only write prompt-based pieces, I don’t gain the personal/creative satisfaction that I need. 🙂
Now, I love to keep my posts brief, as I worry higher word counts will deter readership. However, I’ve determined that my vision for Steamy Saturday doesn’t allow for anecdotes. I’m the kind of person that can’t just jump right to sex, in both my writing and my personal life. Plus, the build-up is half the fun, right? I apologize for the length, but I don’t feel like writing a subpar story just to throw sex at you. I’ve read books that do just that, and I find it repetitive and less than satisfying. You deserve better than that!
So, no matter how much I’ve edited this story, it refuses to be contained in just one post. If you enjoy it, then you get to look forward to its continuation next week. I sincerely hope you do, because this is one of those stories I wish I didn’t have to interrupt with my human need for sleep. Ugh, I’ve really got to take those damn Christmas lights down tomorrow too. Yes, I realize it’s been four months since the actual holiday, and at this point, I might as well leave them up. But hey, we had one hell of a winter, so stop judging me and start steaming up your Saturday! 😀

With all my love and gratitude,





Pushing open the heavy glass doors into Marley’s Books, I look around to see the store nearly deserted. Nestled in the quiet and quaint city of Luddington, Michigan, its typical patrons include a few locals and tourists that happen to wander into its 19th century, brick architecture every now and then. The emptiness within its walls doesn’t bother me, as I feel accompanied by the authors lining each aisle I wander down.
I can easily lose a few hours here, but today, I’m determined to peruse only one section. As I approach the bookshelf labeled “New Age,” my eyes scan across several books whose philosophies I’ve never once considered. That is, until my grandfather insisted I study one book. With his dying wish, he assured me that by immersing myself into the life philosophy that he had followed through his golden years, I would better recover from my hectic career hopping within the financial industry.
My fingers, long overdue for a manicure, pull out the Tao Te Ching. I brush off a thin layer of dust before opening the antiquated cover. Within the first few phrases, the translation from Chinese does little to aid my comprehension. Bringing the text closer to my eyes, I squint so intensely that I develop a throbbing headache.
Sighing, I pull my face from the book and notice a figure from the corner of my eye, standing only a couple of feet away. I look over to find a man in his late twenties with tousled, sandy hair and hazel eyes. In his hand is a black book that must be at least a thousand pages or more. His eyes flick up to mine, and a subtle smirk slides upon his lips. I quickly return my gaze to the book in my hand. I’ve never actually made eye contact with a man that so closely resembled the handsomeness of a Greek God. Although, this man, with his purposeful gaze and his stubble sprinkled jaw line, is gorgeous in a rugged way…A way that leads me to reopen my book and dive back into Taoism, as a means for distraction. No matter what verse I flip to, I’m overcome with the urge to flee the store with my less-than-innocent thoughts about the man beside me. Locked into the ground, my feet prevent me from doing just that, and I silently curse them for holding me captive.
“Looks like the Tao is quite perplexing,” a smooth voice mentions from beside me.
“Oh, er-” I look up to see his eyes scanning my face, his brows arching in apparent amusement. “The translation is just…baffling.” I twist my mouth, trying to recover from being caught off-guard.
“I know the feeling,” his teeth barely peek through a soft smile, “I’m decoding some ancient texts, myself.”
“Really, what about?” Any hope of suppressing my inner geek is long gone.
“Ghosts, demons, premonitions of the apocalypse…typical stuff,” he casually replies.
A laugh bursts from my mouth, but I cut it short, noticing that his smirk has settled into a solemn line. “Oh, you um…you believe in that stuff?” I cautiously ask.
“Absolutely. Like I believe in the existence of gravity.”
“I thought all of that was just a myth, no offense.”
“Life would be a lot easier if it was, trust me.”
He glances up and down the aisle, so quickly I barely notice.
“You speak as if you’ve had personal experience with these things.” I turn directly toward him as curiosity bubbles within me.
Shutting the book, he turns to me and closes the gap between us. His chest, only inches away from mine, radiates a warm, woodsy scent.
“More than you could imagine,” he murmurs, “It’s quite exhausting, really.”
“Then why do you do it?” I ask, fighting the magnetism pulling my body closer to his.
“Someone’s got to do the dirty work.” His jaw buckles, and I sense resentment buried beneath his skin.
“You’ve got to take a break sometime…” I bite my lip, stifling the lewd suggestions burning on my tongue.
“Never had a good reason to…Not sure I’d know what to do with myself…” Tilting his head closer to mine, I watch as his eyes trail down to my lips. I slowly swallow and notice the desire quickening my pulse.
“I can think of a few things,” I mention and quickly regret coming on to him so blatantly.
Chuckling under his breath, he looks up at the ceiling before piercing my eyes with his. “I apologize for not asking your name…?”
“It’s Abby. What’s yours?” I feel my skin blush.
“Mitch.” He sighs, and I watch the lustful intrigue drain from his face. “The thing is, Abby, you really don’t want to get mixed up with me.”
“How would you know?” I challenge, as I encounter an entirely new frustration.
Mitch looks over his shoulder before leaning in closer, his eyes narrowing. “What I do isn’t a nine-to-five job. It’s dangerous, and it’s my life…” Running his fingers through his hair, he deeply inhales.
“Well, I’m tired of playing it safe, and I can think for myself.”
“Look Abby, I’m not trying to make decision for you,” his voice escalates, “I’m telling you the facts. Someone always gets hurt, and you’re no exception.”
I scramble to construct a witty retort, but Mitch suddenly pulls me behind him. As he backs up, I’m pinned behind him and the bookcase.
“What the-”
Snapping his head back at me, Mitch’s furrowed eyebrows and clenched jaw silence me. The shelves press into my back, and I strain to look over his shoulder. Though, all I can see is his head scanning from one side of the aisle to the other. The fluorescent lights above start flickering, and he spins around, now pinning me to the front of his chest. I open my mouth to speak, but his harsh eyes demand me to do otherwise.
The quickening of his heart vibrates across my skin, and while I sense we’re under threat, I can’t stop the fantasies that darken my mind. I want so badly for him to slam me against the books even harder, to rip my blouse open, or at the very least, to kiss me. But all I can do is watch as his head rapidly turns from left to right, searching for whatever might be after him…or us.
“They found me. It’s too late,” he whispers. His hot breath sweeps across my cheek and ignites an even deeper craving within me.
The store goes black, and there’s an abrupt rattling in the back of the store. That’s when reality twists my stomach and the yearning that fueled my pulse is immediately replaced by terror. A heavy scraping travels from the back of the store toward us. I hear it weaving through every aisle. Books are thrown from the shelves as the cases crumble to the floor. Only one aisle from ours, the pace of destruction slows, inflicting torture before our inevitable death. I press my eyes shut, but this doesn’t prevent the tears from searing down my cheeks.
Mitch runs his hands up the sides of my body and stops at my shoulders. The rigidity of his body steadies the trembling of mine. The bookcase behind me juts forward. Mitch presses against its frame, as it threatens to collapse on me. The case starts shaking heavily, and I notice the books on both ends of our aisle begin to fly as the shelves crackle beneath them. Whatever these creatures are, I can’t see them.
“Abby, I need you to trust me. Are you ready to run?”
I quickly nod before asking myself the same question.
“We’ve only got thirty seconds before this demolishes the store.” From his coat pocket, Mitch pulls out a metal object, illuminated with red lights. He methodically punches various buttons on it until the weapon buzzes and the lights rapidly flash. As he tosses it to the ground, the object emits a thick fog. He wraps his arm around me, and we run. The fog, so pungent it gags me, rushes out ahead of us. As it rises, the fog reveals the figures surrounding us. Though, instead of attacking, they writhe, as the vapor smothers them. I stumble over a pile of books, but Mitch swiftly lifts me up before I can fall to the floor.
Nearing the front of the store, an earsplitting racket of crackling and rumbling arises from where the device remains. My widened eyes shoot over to his. Amidst the flying sparks and roars of our dying assailants, his eyes focus on mine with calm resolve. Finally reaching the doors, we pull and push, but they don’t budge. Mitch and I look back to the beeping device, but the dense fog blocks our view of anything further than three feet from us. Unflinchingly, he pulls a shiny object from his pocket, a black pistol. With his hand closest to me, he covers my ear and presses my face into his chest. Mitch raises the pistol to the doors in front of us, and I automatically squeeze my eyes shut. All I hear is the faint screeching, muffled by his shirt, and his constant heartbeat. Then this bone shattering vibration, and then another, travels through his body and into mine. He releases my head from his chest but abruptly pulls me forward, sprinting through the sea of shattered glass.
I don’t know what hits me first: the blistering heat, the shaking of the pavement beneath our feet, or the deafening boom that’s quickly replaced by a soprano ringing. Though, I don’t look back.
As we reach his motorcycle, I dutifully put on the helmet he hands me. After helping me settle into the back of his seat, he pulls out the Tao Te Ching from inside his coat and places it in a hidden compartment. Mitch takes his place in front of me and I slide forward, wrapping my arms around the stoic man, whom I’ve known for barely an hour. The engine revs and the bike rumbles beneath us. As we speed away from the rubble that was once my sanctuary, my body melts into a man who has both endangered and saved my life in a matter of minutes.

Premiere Steamy Saturday: Quenching the Forbidden Thirst

© Copyright 2014 ProPhotoNut

Happy Friday to you! For a few weeks, I’ve been tossing the idea of submitting some of my more sensual work here. I’ve found that pushing my limits has helped me better develop my skill, so now I’m venturing beyond my comfort zone. I’m not going to lie, writing in this genre tends to be a little more fun than the typical dark stories that come through my writing. Thus, when the inspiration strikes, I mustn’t miss out! I like the idea of starting the weekend on a more lively note, so I intend on incorporating Steamy Saturday as a weekly contribution of mine. I do hope you enjoy:


My hands tremble as they slide down his stomach. The tension grows as we fight our bodies’ impulses to savagely devour each other. Until now, our illicit hunger lay dormant. Occasionally there were subtle insinuations, the quick passing of his tongue between his lips or a lingering gaze, but that was the extent of our surfacing desire.
His lips slide down the side of my neck, his sultry breath caressing my skin. As his fiery eyes arrest mine, he sweeps me up, locking our hips together before submerging into the blankets beneath us.
I’ve seen this all before. The mischievous smirk as he unbuttons my blouse, the unclouded moonlight that illuminates every crevice of his sculpted chest. Finally though, my yearning has manifested. I hold my breath as he gazes at me bare, unconfined.

These visions came to me at the most inconvenient times. Those quick glances across the market, when he’d effortlessly balance over-packed crates on both of his shoulders. Or when I’d be escorted down the street in the most luxurious car. While others stared at me with jealousy and disapproval, his eyes held no judgment, only an understanding that this wasn’t the life I’d chosen.
The second I pulled the trigger, abandoning the life my father chose for me and the suitor that feigned loyalty, Blake was there for me. Waiting for me, as I’d prayed he would be all along. No explanation needed. As soon as I knocked on his door, he grabbed a horse, and we fled. Thirteen miles from town, we settled into a sanctuary, what my family would refer to as a deplorable shack. Though residence is temporary, it buys us time to surrender to what we’ve only dreamt about.

My fingers unfasten his belt, as they’ve done in every fantasy before. Yet, before I continue, he brings his lips to mine. In this moment, words are rendered useless. Nothing better expresses our persevering love than the fervid shadows cast as our bodies indulge one another.