Morgan Starling Writes

Erotica writer. True stories and fiction.

[morganstarlingwrites]

His attention oscillates between spotlight and house lights, zeroing in on one person, then widening to include the whole table. He watches them like a hawk throughout the evening, his steely gaze sharp and penetrating, though never obviously so.

I want to go home, to have him tell me everything he saw, then make him train his spotlight on me. Still, after three years, nothing feels as good as his attention.

[morganstarlingwrites]

Hi there,are you an author for interactive fiction or in Romance genre?We are looking for authors around.

Hiya! Mostly erotica at the moment. Will do romance too - not too familiar with interactive fiction, but always happy to learn.

[morganstarlingwrites]

The truth is that traditionally 'girly' books about love, dating and sex are looked down upon, while traditionally 'male' narratives about murder and violence would never have to defend themselves that way.

[morganstarlingwrites]

I dreamt I had water in my shoulders. The doctor asked me if I had brought my own scalpel for the operation. I handed him a nail file. The surgeon was Vladimir Putin.

@one-time-i-dreamt #dream #putin #onetimeidreamt

[morganstarlingwrites]

I dreamt I was walking through town with my grandmother and sister. Grandma sexually assaulted me and then left. I told my sister what happened. Then we went and got icecream. I chose bubblegum twist.

@one-time-i-dreamt #onetimeidreamt #wtf #dream #icecream #bubblegumtwist

[morganstarlingwrites]

Chemistry (2)

It's also: lying awake at night next to him, wondering if he would mind if you initiated sex while he's asleep. Deciding against it - he's sleeping so peacefully.

And then, not five minutes later, suddenly feeling him tug on your underwear, feeling his still half-asleep body reply to your scintillating ache for him.

Then breathless, wordless sex.

[morganstarlingwrites]

Chemistry

For the first time, I felt like I understood what "chemistry" meant. It wasn't just the intense infatuations I had suffered through before. There was something layered underneath it - a physical thrumming whenever I breathed him in, a blossoming in my lower body, a visceral magnetism that quickened my blood and constricted my breathing.

It was involuntary, humiliating, and absolutely intoxicating.

[morganstarlingwrites]

Say yes

'So, there's your answer to that question you asked me last week,' I say.

'I also asked you to marry me.'

I giggle. 'And I said I would, like always. I feel like you just like asking me that question, over and over again.'

An unusually shy smile. 'I like hearing you say yes.'

[morganstarlingwrites]

‘I love the way your skin feels,’ I murmured. I ran my fingertips over his chest and stomach. The pleasant heaviness of his trust seemed to exert a gentle pressure on my brain.

'Mm.’ It was a content little sound, more sigh than whimper. ‘Do whatever you like with me. Just tell me what to do. I’m yours.’

[morganstarlingwrites]

'If my heart was a compass, you'd be north.'

That line repeated over and over in my head, hammering the message home no matter how hard I tried to deny it.

'If my heart was a house, you'd be home.'

I was keenly aware of the threat behind the words. My life map pointed in the opposite direction. Losing my north was inevitable.

I ended up ditching the map and flying northward. Hardest, best decision of my life.

[morganstarlingwrites]

When his coworkers roped him into a conga line, I shot away behind a big flower arrangement with such premeditated agility that he later exclaimed that it was like a magic trick.

'I don't dance,' I said, with dismissive certainty. 'Not like that, anyway. I can waltz and tango, but if there are no steps, I can't do it.'

'We'll go clubbing,' he said. 'You just need to let go a little. You'll like it.'

I shook my head vigorously. 'No way. Too self-conscious. I'd die from shame if I even tried it.'

He laughed and fixed me with that slightly mocking glint in his eye. 'It was not a suggestion. We gotta do something about this level of uptightness. Suck it up, princess. Get over yourself.'

I hooted and looked scandalised, but something inside of me gave way. It's hard to admit, but I liked being talked to like this. Maybe I felt seen.

[morganstarlingwrites]

I sat across from him, breathless, hoping that whatever energy bounced between us was a clear enough challenge. Beneath all that gentle carefulness, there was a curiosity about himself - a willingness to test how much power he could gain and how he would wield it.

[morganstarlingwrites]

I like writing because when my entire life went to shit I still had words.

[fuckmelikethat]

[morganstarlingwrites]

My university thesis be like

[morganstarlingwrites]

My lover terrifies me. His flamethrower gaze scorches everything it touches. He's eerily discerning. His approval is hard-won. I feel like glass around him. So vulnerable, so transparent. So shiny, whenever he tells me I'm perfect.

[morganstarlingwrites]

She was the one to break the touch barrier. She leaned over to taste my drink and placed a hand on my thigh. The thrum that rippled out from where she had touched me made my ears close up for an instant. Like when you yawn and momentarily block everything out.

Her eyes shone, reflecting the dim lights of the café.

'What?'

'There's something about you.'

'What kind of something?' Her mouth pulled sideways in a lopsided grin.

'Something I need.' The words spilled from me so unexpectedly I had no time to make it sound like a joke.

[morganstarlingwrites]

It inordinately bothers me when writers use exclamation marks anywhere else than in dialogue.

It was so hot that day! She was only wearing a short skirt and a strappy top!

Doesn't it just look... trashy, somehow? 😕