"He learned every shape and curve of her before he moved on. Élise tried not to react, but he made her ache for more. When his palm curved around her breast, she made a small sound in the back of her throat. He caught it with his lips on hers. Her hands were drawn to him. He had a body she would draw, not soft and idealised, but real, marked by charcoal dust and years of hard work. She wanted to capture the way his hands looked against her skin."
I thought you might enjoy this. It is not my usual subject material, but it inspired an unusual flair and way beyond what I thought I was capable of. Something I have not felt in a long time.
I wrote a very poor story in 2025, and I gave up on all 60,000 words of it. It killed any inspiration to write. I wrote two stories in the six months afterwards; one of these was terrible. I've lacked confidence ever since, and except for one short story, it was not a good year. In February, a spell of writer's block made me think about quitting for good.
But this story... I found that passion again, and I think it shows. Maybe you might agree?
