Siobhan Muir (@SiobhanMuir) flew the highest this week and takes her twentieth win!
Check out her story below and congratulate her on Twitter.
Congrats on your #SwiftFicFriday win @SiobhanMuir! Check out her flash piece and show her some love #WritingCommunityTweet
“I could eat these all the time. Of course, I’d probably get as round as a hippo, but it just might be worth it.” Roxanne finished her half of the cake and brushed off her hands. “Show me how you did it. I want to know the recipe.”
Ambrose snorted. “We have plenty. There’s no need to make more.”
“For a growing boy like you? This won’t hold us for longer than a day. Two tops.” She waved at the cakes. “Show me…Please.”
He’d opened his mouth to protest, but the “please” made him drop his shoulders and grunt a short laugh with a half-smile.
“Oh, all right. Come over here and I’ll show you what I did.”
Over the next hour or so, they worked side by side and Roxanne tried not to enjoy the way his chest and arms bunched as he mixed and kneaded the dough. She also liked that he was roughly her height – actually a little taller – and they could look eye-to-eye when standing close.
It would make it very easy to kiss him.
She coughed, waving her hand as if clearing the air of flour dust. Where the hell had that thought come from? Kissing wasn’t on the itinerary for this mission, particularly not kissing a centaur, for goodness’ sake. And she hadn’t been interested in sex or kissing anyone in a long time. Oh sure, she’d had the odd fantasy about some pretty man she’d seen in movies or commercials or magazines, and there’d been a few lovely-looking men in the Army. But then they’d open their mouths and that was the end of the fantasy. Especially the ones who had to one-up her because she was so tall.
Most men can’t handle me as I am.
Most human men. Ambrose wasn’t human.