Let Love Rule: Bonus (Spicy) Extract

Below you can read a spicy extract from my romance Let Love Rule, a spicy work rivals to lovers with fake-dating and grumpy(her)/sunshine(him). This is actually the first time that Mina and Charlie have some "fun" together and they do so while hiding in a cloakroom at his mother's 70th birthday party. Oops. So, yes, it's spicy and therefore contains explicit language so with this in mind maybe don't read at work or in public!

And you can read the rest of the scene and the story in Let Love Rule, available on Amazon.

It’s only when my jaw starts to ache and I can no longer ignore the thick ridge of his erection against my stomach that I stop kissing Charlie and look down between us. My hands rush to the belt he’s wearing but I get nowhere before he’s covering my fingers with his.

“No,” he says and he sounds as out of breath as I am, my chest heaving.

“What do you mean, no?”

“I mean, you first.”

I keep my fingers tucked into his belt as I pull back further so he can see my expression, or rather, my deep and pouty scowl.

“I don’t think you know how this happens with me,” I say. “I like to stay in charge.”

Charlie gives me another head-tilted-to-the-side curious puppy look. “Is that right?”

“Yes, very much so.” I feel my jaw tense. He better not fight me on this. I always stay in charge with sex.

Charlie’s questioning look lingers for a second or two longer but then it disappears completely and a more thoughtful, possibly scheming expression is there. He is a bit firmer now when his hands try to move mine away from his belt and because I don’t expect it, I’m not quick enough to stop him. I’m also stunned once he starts speaking.

“Then tell me to drop to my knees. Tell me to push your dress up to your hips. Tell me to pull your tights and underwear down, and to worship your pussy with my mouth.”

Jesus fucking Christ and all his fucking disciples.

Charlie Atkinson has a filthy mouth, and I don’t know if it’s that discovery or the words themselves, but the ache between my legs intensifies and it completely eclipses any desire I had to make Charlie see stars with my hand or my mouth.

I also want to see if he’s as dirty as the words he just spoke. And furthermore, I need him to know that two can play this game.

“Fine.” I sound grumpy about it even though I am anything but. I take my hands away from his and place them on his shoulders. “On your knees, Charlie,” I say, applying a little pressure.

He doesn’t just go down, he drops, like gravity has just increased tenfold, and he does so with a smile. The same smile he has in a meeting when someone asks him a question. The same smile he has when one of his team cracks an invariably terrible joke. The same smile he has when he’s handing out cups of tea from the round he just made. All that is to say, Charlie is happily falling to his knees for me.

And as I stare down at him, watching his pupils dilate and darken his azure eyes, I am feeling very happy to have him there.

“Pull my dress up,” I order and he does. But it’s not a perfunctory action, instead his hands are practically languid in their motion, starting at my knees and sliding up the front of my legs until he reaches the hem of my dress. Then his palms glide up the inside of my thighs, caressing the sensitive skin there until his fingers touch my suspenders and they freeze.

“Wait a minute…” he says and drops his head to look at where his hands are. “No fucking way.”


“You’re wearing stockings.” He pulls my dress up further to reveal what I, of course, already know.

“Yes,” I say slowly, a little sardonically.

“I’m sorry, I’m just going to stare at these for a minute or two because they are so fucking sexy.”

“You like stockings?”

“It’s the suspenders really, but fuck, yes, I do.” One of his hands falls to grip his erection which is making a tent of his trousers. Never in a million years did I think I would find watching Charlie manhandle his hard-on sexy, but here I am, wanting it to be my hand gripping his length.

“These stay on,” he says decisively.

I huff out a short laugh, but then fall very silent when his hands continue their ascent up my legs, meandering side to side on each leg as if they want to touch every square inch of my skin.

“Hurry up,” I demand, impatiently and it comes out so snappily, I almost feel guilty but then I feel his mouth, his warm, wet mouth, give my inner thigh a long, lingering kiss and I have to focus on my knees not buckling completely.

“Want. To. Take. My. Time,” he says in between more travelling kisses.

I glance at the door. “Someone could come knocking at any moment,” I tell him, although it’s not the real reason I’m urging him on.

“Fuck ‘em,” he says but it’s muffled as his mouth is pressed into the giving flesh of my inner thigh, mere centimetres away from where I really want him.

“Charlie,” I say and my tone is stern enough that he lifts his head and looks up at me. “Fuck me with your mouth already.”

His eyes are astonishingly dark now as he holds my dress up with one hand and then traces the outline of my underwear with the fingers of his other hand.

“Push my knickers to the side,” I tell him.

He does.

“Do you see how wet I am already?” I ask.

He swallows before answering, “Yes.”

“That’s where I want you. That’s where I want your tongue.”

“Yes,” he hisses again.

I look down at him and decide to help out by holding my dress up for him. “So, what are you waiting for?”

Charlie drops his gaze and seems to stare at my pussy for a few seconds. I’m about to grab his head and pull it to my cunt, but he finally does it by himself.

His tongue is tentative as it finds the tip of my clit which I know is swollen and peeking out of my outer labia, ready and needy for attention. Eventually, his licks have a bit more pressure and alternate in their movement, but he’s still hesitant and hasn’t found a rhythm that is working for me. Nor do I believe it’s working for him.

I’m about to grip his head and guide him to where I really want him but he pulls back, rests on his heels and starts talking, his hands held up.

“So, here’s the thing,” he begins.

“What?” I ask and I feel my eyes widening in a questioning glare.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve done this.”

“Gave head?”

“No, but rather head that doesn’t have a literal head.” He offers me a wonky grin that would almost be adorable if I wasn’t standing here with my pussy hanging out and my desire beginning to waver.


“And I was feeling so enthusiastic a moment ago. I really, really wanted to go down on you. I still do, really want to, but I am… struggling a bit with what to actually do now I’m… here.” His lips are still glistening with me and I see the sparkle in his eyes. I can’t be angry about this interruption. He’s effectively asking me to help him pleasure me.

Trying my hardest to stop glowering at him, I force a quick smile and decide to spin this situation in a way that could work for us both.

“Do you want me to tell you what to do, Charlie?” I bring my hand down and comb my fingers through his hair. Its silkiness surprises me.

“Yes,” he says, an eager look on his face as he rises again on his knees. “Please.”

And for once I don’t hate his eagerness, his puppy dog expression, or the way he licks his lips despite them being stretched into a smile.

“Do you see my clit, Charlie?”

“Yes, I think so.”

“Lick it. Lick it slowly, like it’s an ice cream.”

“I do like ice cream,” he says, because of course he does.

“Do it, Charlie. Make me feel good.”

That snaps him out of making silly comments. He brings his mouth to my pussy and licks at the tip of my clitoris, once, twice and then again and again. It resuscitates my arousal and I am pleased that he is doing exactly what I asked, but still, I need more.

“That’s good, Charlie, really good,” I say and his hum at the praise is something that I mentally store away somewhere, not least because of how good the vibration of the noise feels on my clit. “Now use your tongue to explore more of me. And use your hands to pull my lips apart. Look at me.”

“You’re beautiful,” he says after I feel him stretch me open. I flinch hearing the compliment, like I always do. I’m normally the one dishing out praise and flattery.

“Get back to work, Charlie.” I place my hand on the back of his head and push him closer, lower.

Still using long, liberal licks, his tongue probes my inner labia and then my entrance, I feel myself clench involuntarily. “Put your tongue inside me. I want to feel you there.”

“Fuck, you taste so good,” he tells me before quickly complying.

I am maybe even more surprised than him that I don’t have a reply. What I do have is warmth in my cheeks and the feeling that my insides are melting, and it’s not because he is somehow managing to curl his tongue up and get so close, so, so close to my G spot.

“Your tongue feels so good inside me,” I say rather than acknowledge the praise he gave me. If Charlie was someone I saw myself having more than a night of fun with, I would tell him that I don’t like that, that I prefer to be the one to dish out compliments. But this is not something we are going to ever do again so there’s no need to be pedantic.

He mumbles an incomprehensible reply and I grip the back of his head with a bit more force. His hair really is so silky smooth and soft; I wonder what shampoo he uses.

“That’s good,” I tell him as he pierces me again with his tongue, the nub of his nose rubbing against my clit. “So good, Charlie, stay there a bit longer.”

It doesn’t surprise me that he obeys that order just as quickly and diligently as he did each one before. I wasn’t lying when I said I like to be in control in bed, and I know it really, really shouldn’t be the case but there is something especially invigorating and empowering that I am dishing out orders to a man and that it’s a man that is working so hard to please me.

“Back to my clit, Charlie,” I say and my voice doesn’t sound as level as it did a moment ago, but he doesn’t seem to notice as he wastes no time moving up to take my clit in his mouth.

“Suck on it,” I say and my knees buckle when he does. It seems to shock him because he comes off me, right when I really don’t want him to.

“Are you okay?” he asks looking up at me. His hair is a mess because of the way my hands have been clawing through it and his lips still glisten with my arousal. I nod at him as I bring a finger to his mouth and trace the length of his bottom lip from left to right.

“I’m fine,” I say and then holding his eye contact I suck that finger into my mouth and close my eyes as I taste myself. When my eyes open, he’s palming himself through the material of his trousers again.

“Want me to take care of that?” I ask him.

He looks down. “No, I want you to come. I want to feel you come on my mouth.”

Fuck. Such a pretty, dirty mouth.

“Then back to it. Suck on my clit again, then lick it. Lick all around it too. Up and down. Side to side. Swirl your clever little tongue all around it.”

I’m rewarded by another vibrating noise by Charlie, this time it’s more like a groan and I look down and see while his eyes are closed, eyelashes fluttering, his hand is now rubbing up and down his erection with a steady rhythm. I kick my foot to knock his hand off himself.

“What the—” He pulls back again.

“I’ll look after that later,” I say with a serious voice. Then I open my legs a little wider and rock my hips forward. “I need you to focus on making me come, Charlie.”

When I act like this in bed, especially with a new lover, it’s always a risk. A risk that they’ll not want to be bossed around. A risk that they will not take kindly to being deprived their own pleasure or orgasm. A risk that they will feel less motivated to follow my orders. But if Charlie feels any of these things, he doesn’t show it. Instead, he grips my hips and yanks my pussy to his face.

“Yes, Charlie,” I say when he finds my clit again with his tongue. “More, Charlie.” I gasp as he licks lower and sticks his tongue in my entrance where I squeeze him. “Such a good boy, Charlie,” I tell him when he goes back to my clit again and uses his tongue to circle it in a steady rhythm that takes me so, so, so close…

“Put two fingers inside me,” I order and while there’s a little fumbling as he does so, once they’re inside me I don’t even have to tell him to curl them towards my front wall. And when they’re there, stroking my clit from the inside, I finally cross that bridge that takes me to my inevitable orgasm. Now it’s not a question of if, it’s a matter of when.

“Deeper, deeper,” I order.

“Lick slower,” I demand.

“More pressure, more Charlie.” I moan as I reach behind me for something, anything to support myself, but instead I end up yanking a handful of coats off their hangers and onto the floor.

“Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop,” I mutter before I come.

My orgasm starts slowly, leisurely, like it thinks it has all the time in the world and that I am not locked in a cloakroom at a seventieth birthday party. But fuck me, it feels good. I feel it detonate in my clit then expand through my cunt, up through my stomach and down my thighs. I feel it shake my legs and harden my nipples to uncomfortable points inside my lace bra. I feel it flush my cheeks and curl my toes. It washes over me again and again and again until it starts to fade. But even the aftershocks alter my breathing, and have me biting down on my index finger so I don’t make too much noise.

And Charlie… Charlie follows my orders to a T. Lapping away at my clit, not stopping until I’m gripping his head with one hand and pushing him away because suddenly, I’m so sensitive there, too sensitive.

“Fuck,” I gasp as my breath starts to come back, my stomach still rising and falling quickly.

“Good?” he asks, once again resting back on his knees.

I think about pulling him up and kissing my taste off his lips, mouth and chin. I think about having him stand up and pushing him against the door while I yank his trousers down and take his hard cock all the way down my throat.

But I don’t do any of that. Instead, I drop to my knees in front of him and reach for his face. I kiss the words I want to say into his mouth. Thank you. And that was incredible. And I haven’t come like that in months. And thank you again. Because I’m not about to say anything like that to him. Besides, I don’t want to talk. I want to see him come just as hard as I did.


Read the rest of the story in Let Love Rule, available on Amazon.

Frances M. Thompson

Londoner turned wanderer, Frankie is an author, freelance writer and blogger. Currently based in Amsterdam, Frankie was nomadic for two years before starting a family with her Australian partner. Frankie is the author of three short story collections, and is a freelance writer for travel and creative brands. In 2017, she launched WriteNOW Cards, affirmation cards for writers that help build a productive and positive writing practice. When not writing contemporary fiction, Frankie shops for vintage clothes, dances to 70s disco music and chases her two young sons around Amsterdam.
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