Promise You: Cover Reveal & Excerpt!

I am so beyond excited to finally share this cover with you! It’s sweet, fun, and so perfect for Reese and Dex’s story. I mean, can’t you just feel their relationship as you stare at the cover?! It gives me all the feels, and I can’t wait for you to read the story inside! Check out the cover here, and read an excerpt from Promise You.

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About the book:

She wants to be friends. I want more.

I’ve had my eyes set on her for months. The gorgeous brunette captured my attention when I first saw her and stole my heart when I met her.

Making it in the music industry has taken its toll on me, chipping away at my confidence and patience. The one thing that keeps me going is having Reese by my side. I’m determined to show her how good we can be together, even if she continues to pretend there’s nothing between us.

One night changes everything, giving me the only thing I’d want more than a career in country music—her.

“You look beautiful.”

“Thanks. You don’t look too bad yourself,” she winks and orders a martini. “Do you want a beer?” She turns to look my way while the bartender waits.

“I’m going with whiskey tonight.” Reese raises her eyebrows, and I chuckle. “Need something stronger than beer if I’m going to be standing next to you in that dress all night, darlin’.” The bartender bites down her smile, watching our exchange before making our drinks.

“Dex,” she warns.

“Yeah, I know.” I raise my arms, palms facing her. “Just friends.”

“Yeah,” she sighs and grabs her martini. Once I have my drink, Reese links her arm with mine, and we make rounds. “Isn’t this amazing? One day you’ll have an event like this, I just know it.” Her encouragement is welcomed at a time like this when I feel like I may never get to this point in my career.

“Yeah, maybe.” I don’t miss the defeat in my voice.

“Hey,” she stops walking, pulling me to her by the arm she’s holding. “You’re really good. One of the best I’ve heard in a long time, and I don’t just say that because you’re one of my best friends. I mean it. I’ve been surrounded in this industry since my brother was playing in Riot, just like you. I know how hard it is, I’ve met musicians in the past. Your voice is unique.”

“Thanks, Reese.” I lift a shoulder, wanting to drop the subject in a public place.

“I mean it, Dex.” I nod in silence and look away, pretending to take in the atmosphere.

The live music starts, singers congratulating Rebel Desire as they perform a couple of songs. The fans go wild for all the talent spending their evening with us.

“Dance with me,” I grab Reese’s empty glass and place it on the bar. Everyone else around us is dancing to the music, so there’s no excuse that people will talk or get the wrong idea.

Just when I think she’s going to refuse, she puts her arm around me and begins to sway to the soft music. For a minute, all is right in the world. The worries of making it in this industry, the envy of not having the success others do, it all fades away the second Reese wraps her arms around me and moves to the beat.

I may have fucked around a lot in my life, but after meeting Reese and spending time with her, I’m sure I’d never want anyone else but her. If only I can make her see how good we’d be together.

I remember the first time I saw her, weeks before I actually met her. She was at Riot, laughing and drinking with friends. Her laugh reached me through the crowd, drawing my attention to her. Her confidence danced to the rhythm of the song I was performing. After that, she’d come in on her own some nights, and I’d watch her while I sang songs she could’ve inspired.

Women like Reese, hell, there are no other women like Reese. She’s in a league of her own—gorgeous, funny, and independent.

Copyright 2019, Fabiola Francisco

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All My Truths & One Lie is live!

I am so excited to share that All My Truths & One Lie is now available across all major platforms! From writing this story to preparing it to be published, it has been an amazing and emotional journey.

This book means so much to me. On a personal level, it’s everything I’ve never had the courage to say out loud. Until now. Writing it wrecked me completely. It tore me apart, thread by thread, and then sewed me back together (sometimes not so neatly).

It’s everything I’ve never had

the courage to say out loud.

I know it’s not a traditional plot, or romance novel you’re used to getting from me as of lately. I wrote it for me and for you, because there’s depth in the message, strength in the words that come together to create it. I hope you give it a chance, go in with an open mind, and enjoy the process.

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Read Now:

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I’ve received messages from readers saying how Navia’s story made them feel, connect to their own childhood and life experiences, and reflect. This book’s purpose is that. I hope that you also connect with it and take with you the greater message in this story. I’ve poured myself onto these pages, and it’s time you now receive the effects of that.

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Thank you for your continuous support, and I’d love to heard from you after you read All My Truths & One Lie. Email me at authorfabiola@yahoo.com and share your thoughts with me!

Until then, happy reading!

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All My Truths & One Lie, Prologue

Read All My Truths & One Lie’s prologue below. For more information about the book, click here.

 Prologue


dim stars & faded dreams 

When I was a little girl, I used to wander around the playground and contemplate life. I didn’t understand some things and understood others way too much. I processed information differently, in a weird way, and I didn’t understand why my friends were so . . . immature. Yes, at the ripe age of ten, I wondered why kids acted like kids as if I had some wisdom they didn’t have. It wasn’t that I did, I just saw things differently. 

I had friends, but I distanced myself. I needed to as a form of regaining my sanity, or center, or . . . I don’t know. Simply needing some time. Too in my own head, that’s what I was told. I was too serious. Too reserved. Too wild. A plethora of adjectives that didn’t always mesh, yet completed me. I couldn’t argue with those descriptions, I knew they were true. A girl who fantasized too much, warred with the desire of a fantasy and the need to accept life wasn’t that. 

And then I grew up. 

But nothing changed. 

I stare up into the sky and sigh. My eyes close for the briefest moment as the warm breeze kisses my skin. Sitting in the dark, wondering why I live in a place that outshines the stars, the artificial lights illuminating the insincerity that swirls around this city. I open my eyes to see one twinkling star. It brightens and dims as I look at it, wondering how far away it is and what it’s called. 

I push my body back to sit straighter in my chair and cover my face with my hands. How long do I have to stay here for? I keep telling myself I stay in the city because I still have lessons to learn from it. Maybe I need to stop judging it so much so that I may move on. Lord only knows. 

I check the time on my phone. I’m nowhere near tired, but if I don’t sleep now, I’ll be exhausted tomorrow when my alarm clock goes off at six-thirty. Five hours of sleep isn’t nearly enough for me to function anymore.  

I glance up at the sky one more time and blow out air through my mouth. Soon. I feel it in my soul. 

The last three years have been a pause in my life. I’ve discovered things about myself, grown internally, but the life I led has stopped. Almost as if I needed reclusion to overcome a hump. But that causes distance between myself and the world around me. The more I traveled within, the more I secluded myself. I can say it’s symbolic to Jesus’s forty days and forty nights in the desert. However, I’m no Jesus, and this seclusion didn’t ground me. Instead, it uprooted me, yet my body wouldn’t move forward. 

At first, I looked at that time as temporary. Then it became permanent. My perception of it became obsessive to the idea that I’d never move from it. Until I realized the peace in the moment. I removed veils of illusion and took the pause for what it was—a preparation for what’s to come. 

I feel the pull in my soul, guiding me like the wind against a sail. I can allow the guidance or resist it and risk experiencing the greatest shipwreck of my history. 

I choose to listen. I decide to go where the pull takes me when I’ve spent many nights staring at the sky like tonight, telling myself I wasn’t ready. 

I am. 

So many times, the tug I feel is familiar. Another soul calling to me, awakening this intense need from its slumbering state, just enough to rouse me. Then, it releases, not quite prepared for the intensity of our union, yet a consciousness of each other’s existence. It’s a building fire I stoke, gently allowing the flicker to intensify.

But I miss him. 

I don’t know him physically, and I miss him. My soul longs to be near his. In my sleep, I long to feel his arms around my body, his breath tickling my neck. I can sense him inside me. How can you miss someone you haven’t yet met?

Homesick for a person my eyes haven’t seen, but my soul is familiar with. We’ve danced together before in other times and I long to see him again. Hold him. Feel him near.

And I’m finally ready. 

That’s why I took this first step in the direction I want my life to go. 

Seeing as my mind is racing and my eyes are wide open, I stay outside in hopes I’ll catch a miraculous shooting star. The street light shines on the outside of my home. It’s small but cozy. This is what I need for now. As long as I have a chair, a small table, and open skies, I’m happy. 

Despite having this home, I still feel stuck. As if my soul is moving faster than my body. I see things shifting in my mind’s eye but don’t see the shift in my life around me. Or maybe I do. Sometimes it’s difficult to see the change when those around you are blind to it. But on the inside . . . on the inside, I feel as if my cells are shaking to a vibration that I’m unaware of. As if something inside of me wants to shake itself free and go at a speed I’ve never experienced in my life. 

Hence, my inability to rest. 

A surge of energy bursts, fueling my mind to think beyond the world I live in. I always have to take a minute to breathe and ground myself. It’s easy just to allow my mind to float to a world that many don’t believe in. It’s natural to see things with a different understanding. And it’s so difficult to bond with people because of this. So many times I keep quiet, leaving my ideas to myself in quiet observation. A few times I express what I’m holding, usually resulting in odd looks or silent disapproval. 

I shake off the feeling of not belonging and go back to admiring the stars. I can’t see the moon from here, but I know she’s out there. Another reason I wished I lived somewhere with less light and population. A forest in the middle of nowhere with traces of ancient civilizations and history so deep, it trespasses my bones and hits my soul. 

A place like that exists. I just need to find it. 

This is why you struggle to make friends. 

I roll my eyes and ignore the side of me that is rational. I’ve learned to embrace who I am. I’ve learned I may never meet anyone in their thirties who will share the inquisitive wonder I do. I’ve learned that there’s more to life than egotistical existence and material gains. 

But those have been easy lessons in comparison to the ones that tore me apart like an angry tiger and then sewed me back together like a gentle horse. 

— © 2018 Fabiola Francisco

Learn more here: authorfabiolafrancisco.com/amtaol

The hatred will kill you

I recently wrote a post about being authentic to the outside world, and in turn to yourself. I expressed how I hadn’t been honest with myself or those around me simply because I only showed parts of myself to people depending on our connection. If they’re readers, I’ll only show them the author Fabiola. If they’re in the world of mindfulness and holistic healing, I’ll only show them the healer and meditation guide, the life coach. So on and so forth. 

I am tired of it. I’ve written a book that shows more of myself than anything in the past, and I’m terrified of sharing it. I’m terrified of people I know reading it. Strangers are okay, they don’t know me, I think to myself. But those that do? They’ll know it all. However, there’s a very strong reason I wrote this book, and an even stronger one to share it.

Although All My Truths & One Lie has a romance, the story is about much more than that. It’s about a woman learning to release every emotion, experience, hatred, she’s lived. It’s about a woman that has taken it upon herself to carry the weight of others. And it’s about the weight of family secrets and how our family lineage influences where we stand and the path we take. 

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It may sound a little hokey to some. That’s okay. Ultimately, this book is for me. Why did I decide to share it? Because I’ve learned through observing that I’m not the only one who feels this way. I’m not the only person who struggles with trauma and the after shocks. Mostly, because I learned I’m not alone and that is a mighty big lesson to learn. If I can help one person understand the same thing, my job is done. No, not job—purpose. This is about more. This book is about removing the mask and saying, hey this is me. And it’s about my own release of those that hurt me, of the confusion and pain. It’s about me finally understanding and accepting that I’m worthy of being loved. I’m worthy of more than I’ve given myself and accepted from others. 

I wrote it in pieces, in random scenes, based on emotions and experiences from my life. God, I’m admitting this “out loud” to a public. 

But here’s the thing—I had, have, so much anger and hatred in me. I was tired of carrying it. I’ve learned through the years that holding that emotion in only harms me. It only deteriorates me. The others live on with their lives blissfully unaware. Holding on to the hatred will kill you, will kill me. 

It does no good to do so, and while it’s so damn hard to forgive, it’s essential to our well-being. It’s something that will facilitate our happiness and peace. I said it once, forgiveness is hard as hell, so many times it seems impossible, but the liberation that comes with it is as if you can suddenly fly when you’ve spent a lifetime tied to the ground. And ultimately, forgiveness begins with ourselves. 

I found through this writing process that the anger I was holding mostly was at myself. I was using others as a punching bag because it was easier to blame them. I mean, they were responsible, right? But, deep within, I blamed myself. The reasons are infinite. I’m still a work in progress. My forgiveness is as well. One thing I know for sure is that I no longer want to carry what I was carrying. I no longer want to hold the responsibility of others over my shoulders, adding pressure to my own. 

I wrote a book that’s a cross between fiction and a memoir. I don’t even know what category to put it under. I wrote a difficult book, one that if it lands in the hands of some people, will create problems. But you know what? I’m tired of lies leading the path in our lives. I’m tired of the hatred. Not everyone will like our healing journey. Not everyone will approve of our process in releasing the things that have harmed us. People will prefer to see our flaws so they don’t have to look at their own. I’ll tell you this, no one will be happy with every choice you make. Live for yourself. Fight for your dreams. Hell, go for the life you want to live. Be honest. Live fully. Laugh and cry. Love yourself and love the world despite the flaws. 

Life is so much more than pain and victimhood. Take a step out of the norm and experience the magic of life without the pain we add to ourselves. Let go of the hatred and allow yourself to breathe in clean air and fill your lungs with something else besides the density of pain. Support each other and have compassion knowing we all have our shit but that shit doesn’t define us because we’re meant for more than hurt. 

The hatred will kill me if I don’t release it, but I made the choice to live without it—day by day, always a work in progress. 

It’s not our job to understand the motives of others. It’s our job to provide love for ourselves. So go on and love strongly and live bravely. 

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New Cover Reveal—Red Lights Black Hearts by Fabiola Francisco

RED LIGHTS BLACK HEARTS

Red Lights, Black Hearts by Fabiola Francisco has a new cover!

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Title: Red Lights Black Hearts

Author: Fabiola Francisco

Genre: Women’s Fiction

On sale for $0.99

Buy the book:

Amazon: https://amzn.to/2MkPgx7

iBooks: https://apple.co/2MAtFAh

Kobo: https://bit.ly/2nNO1rB

B&N: https://bit.ly/2MlRmNw

*This is a re-reveal, therefore the book is already live. 

About the book:

Darkness can be stained by light. Light can outshine the darkest of corners.

Behind a window in Amsterdam’s desired Red Light District, Samantha practices the art of seduction. But behind the façade of the glass, lies her truth waiting to be uncovered. An inner battle of light and dark takes place as Sam learns to release the past and truly live the beautiful tragedy that is life.

Red lights and black hearts collide in a tale of heart and soul.

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About the Author:

Fabiola Francisco loves the simplicity—and kick—of scotch on the rocks. She follows Hemingway’s philosophy—write drunk, edit sober. She writes women’s fiction and contemporary romance, dipping her pen into new adult and young adult. Her moods guide her writing, taking her anywhere from sassy and sexy romances to dark and emotion-filled love stories.

Writing has always been a part of her life, penning her own life struggles as a form of therapy through poetry. She still stays true to her first love, poems, while weaving longer stories with strong heroines and honest heroes. She aims to get readers thinking about life and love while experiencing her characters’ journeys.

She is continuously creating stories as she daydreams. Her other loves are country music, exploring the outdoors, and reading.

Connect with Fabiola:

Facebook Page: https://www.facebook.com/authorfabiolafrancisco

Facebook Group: https://www.facebook.com/groups/FabReads/

Twitter: https://www.twitter.com/authorfabiola

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/authorfabiola

Bookbub: https://www.bookbub.com/profile/fabiola-francisco

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/8282534.Fabiola_Francisco

Newsletter: http://eepurl.com/cJKvIX

Website: https://www.authorfabiolafrancisco.com

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I Haven’t Been Completely Honest

I haven’t been completely honest

No, this isn’t where I reveal I’ve been using a pen name or hiding behind a false picture, but those things aren’t far off from what I’ve been doing. A few months ago, I finished a manuscript that is the most honest I’ve ever written. And if you’ve read my work before, you know some of my things are pretty honest, pretty real. However, I masquerade the truth behind made-up characters. For so long, I’ve divided myself into segments, much like you’d do with newsletter lists or apps on a phone. I’ve divided myself, my being, into parts that I think would resonate with groups of people. The Fabi that’s a friend. The Fabi that’s an author. The Fabi that’s a life coach. Did you even know that? Nope. Because I’ve not been courageous enough to share it. I’ve created different “personas” to satisfy each audience, each part of me. Essentially, living different bits and pieces of life with a different role. It’s exhausting, yo. I won’t even say it’s hard, because I did it so naturally, but tiring? Hell, yes. I created this belief around my life that I had to separate my different talents, beliefs, hobbies, and passions according to the “person” I was being at the moment.

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I never talked about my aspect of life coaching, energy healing, crystals, Oracle cards with anyone from the “book world” for fear I’d be looked at differently, not accepted, it would harm my books and reach. I created different accounts with the excuse of “branding” to keep it all neatly piled and sorted under categories. Life isn’t a math problem where you have to sort items by color or shape. When I’d be with people I worked holistic practices with, I’d not mention I wrote romance and women’s fiction because I still believed that the romance stigma existed (and let’s be real, it does) and people wouldn’t take me seriously as a practitioner if I wrote about love and sex. Come on, every human wants to be loved (even the blackest and coldest of hearts) and feel that intimate passion. Then, there was the me that was surrounded by friends, wondering which side I should show. As much as I love the moon, living in phases, exposing just parts at a time, dwindled my being. I started to question who I really was. Am I an author, a teacher, a healer? People would ask me what I worked in and I’d freeze. Ummm… I teach children. I’d cut myself short, not giving myself the respect and importance I deserved from myself.

In 2017, my New Year’s resolution was to be unapologetically me. Stand up for myself, say no when I felt like it, speak my truth. Guess what? I was lying to myself. It was a crock of shit, because how can I do that when I wasn’t being honest with the outside world. It’s not enough to tell yourself who you are. You gotta live it, breathe it, be damn proud of it. And while I am proud of my life, the things I’ve accomplished, I have not proved that. I haven’t lived it outside of my bubble.

I’ve slowly been talking about it. I’ve been sharing a tiny bit more in my reader group, talking about crystals, posting on my personal page about energy and moon eclipses and self-care. But it’s not enough. It’s not enough to sprinkle a bit here and there and hope that the flowers will grow without watering them. Without showing up every fucking day. I’ve never taken the stand to say, “Hey, this is me. Take it or leave it.” We’re so afraid of rejection, maybe because we’ve experienced the hurt of it so much throughout our lives. But you know what? I rather honor myself and learn who those people that are as honest and unapologetically themselves as I strive to be are, than be surrounded by people who unknowingly continue to feed my masks of untruth.

I am a plethora of things because I’ve decided to expand further than just one aspect. I’ve decided to grow and evolve and learn about life and myself and this vast universe we live in. Staying one-dimensional just didn’t cut it anymore. It wasn’t serving me or helping me heal. We all have shit we gotta work through. But man, cutting myself into smaller pieces, not knowing who to show up as, was not promoting my healing.

You know what I learned when I’d share with those in a similar spiritual and mindful journey as me that I write romance? People admired me. They admired me. Why? I wondered. They celebrated my books, my releases, my successes. Hell, they celebrated me. They didn’t have veil of disgust or shame. They embraced it and celebrated it. I slowly started to release my own self-judgment and share more openly (baby steps and all) that I was an author of romantic elements, steamy, sometimes sweet, sometimes cringe-worthy rawness. The only person that cared about what I’d look like was me. I was the only one judging myself.

Not so long ago I spoke to someone in the book community who had posted about a practice. If she reads this, it may ring a bell. Lol I’m drawing a blank at the moment about what that practice was (maybe karma or past lives, or something of the sort), but she sent me a message after a few comments back and forth, saying she had just read my Instagram bio (you know, the spiritual and holistic one I keep separate from my author one because of everything I just mentioned above) and had no idea I worked with everything I do. She thought it was awesome. You know what I told her? “I saw your pic the other day with himalayan lamp and oils and caught my attention. I’m definitely quiet about it and working on being more vocal.” (Don’t judge my grammar, it was a Facebook PM. Typos are accepted). I’ve been quiet about it. I wonder why. I wonder why it took me seeing someone else share about it for me to speak up and say, hey I like that. I agree with that. I live that.

God, we judge ourselves too hard from the perspective of others when they aren’t even doing it.  

Talking to a friend the other day, I told her I thought it was time to merge it all. Merge my blogs and have it all fall under one thing—Fabiola Francisco, human being that is working on not being so hard on herself, learning about life, collects crystals, smiles when she sees a feather, loves book boyfriends and romances and coffee (probably way too much), and writes about real life despite adoring cheesy romcoms and dreaming that one day Sam Hunt will fall in love with her (only half-kidding about this last part).

We all have a villain in ourselves that tries to take over at times (I call it the ego), but aren’t we all light and dark? Yin yang and all that jazz. It’s what helps us learn. Evolving that part and taking from it the lessons is what life is all about. If I were perfect, I’d be somewhere else that isn’t Earth. I’m here to learn, I’m here to meet people and learn from them, I’m here to express who I am.

I’ve gone on about this for longer than intended, so if you’re still reading, thank you, and I hope you live everything in pure honesty and authenticity. Truth is the new cool. Don’t cut yourself short. Don’t hide. Don’t think you won’t be accepted, because ultimately you need to accept yourself. That’s all that matters. Embrace who you are—flaws, gains, friendships, hardships, and passions. It’s all you. It’s all me. All we can do is be the best version of ourselves while we continue to grow as humans.

Today,I choose tobe happy!

As for the book I finished. I have no idea how to market it, but I’ll figure it out. It’s all my honest truth combined with the vision of the life I want. It’s time to be real and accept myself. The rest will fall into place.

XO,

Fab

Memories of Us is Live!!

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It has been an adventurous summer, from moving to Spain to preparing for this release. I have spent the last week traveling around Spain, visiting places I’ve only ever dreamed of before. Beach, mountain views, and historical monuments.

BUT, the day to share Hunter with you is finally here! A book idea I had for over a year, or maybe two, (and I had thought I’d not write) is finally available for you to read! This is what happens when you get together with friends at a book signing and start talking about story ideas—that were locked away—over cocktails. Encouragement and support mean the world, especially in this community. You are a part of that, so thank you for supporting this dream and reading my words. No words can express my gratitude. 

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The love Hunter and Mackenzie are receiving from ARC readers has me speechless. I am excited for you to read their love story and hear your thoughts! Best news?! It’s available on ALL platforms!

About the book:

The life I’m living was supposed to be ours, not just mine, and without her it means nothing

I couldn’t climb on stage and sing to a crowd, knowing the one person my songs were meant for was miles away from me. Writing songs about her is the best I can do until she comes back because I know we’re not over. We’re just on pause, like your favorite song when you need a moment to take it in. But as soon as I find her, I’m pressing play on our love story.

• Amazon: https://amzn.to/2GvV13d

• iBooks: https://apple.co/2KKajYx

• Nook: https://bit.ly/2rTh5At

• Kobo: https://bit.ly/2IVCkqS

• Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/39349692-memories-of-us

Excerpt:

I kiss her full lips, my tongue teasing the seam of her lips, begging for permission to deepen it. As soon as she grants me what I want, my tongue thrusts into her mouth. Our lips move together, speaking words we can’t hear with our own ears but can feel in the depth of our souls.

Mackenzie shifts to straddle me and moans. “I can feel you against my underwear.”

My hands reach under her dress and grips her ass. Her skin is cool against my hands, but the sensation burns me. I rock her into me and she moans again.

“Fuck, Hunter.” Her voice is gruff.

“I love hearin’ you like this. I fuckin’ missed it,” I drawl. Her tiny thong does nothing to stop her from feeling my dick in my jeans. “Bet you’re wet.” She whimpers when I move one hand around and run a finger against her soaked underwear.

“Fuck, babe. Don’t think we’ll have time for much foreplay. I want to feel you wrapped around me, squeezing around me.”

Mackenzie moans again, words gone from her mouth. I move my hand into her panties and feel her against my skin. She’s wet and ready, but I’m gonna make her feel real good first.

I rub my thumb against her clit, and she tenses. “Relax,” I say into her ear.

I continue to please her as she moves above me, her lips on mine in a desperate call for more. When she tenses around my fingers and her breath is labored, I stop and look at her.

“I love you so damn much. I hope you believe me when I say there ain’t no one else for me.”

“For me, either.” She reaches for my jeans, unbuckling my belt and pants, I kick my boots off, followed by my jeans. Mackenzie slips out of her underwear, keeping her own boots on.

“I want you under me,” I lean her back on the blankets, cover her body with mine. I slip into her, slow and steady, and under a blanket of stars I make love to the only woman who has ever had a place in my heart and life.

*Copyright 2018, Fabiola Francisco

 

I_m going to make love to you, nice and slow. Worship your body _til it reaches your soul.”

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