Elin Gregory

I’m out of the habit of posting snippets. Mostly because I don’t write as much. But here’s a little bit of Midnight Flit [working title], a sequel to Eleventh Hour set in 1931.

Miles and Briers are back together after six months apart:

Miles felt squashed and sticky, breathless and bruised – because the cushions weren’t that thick despite the layer of bedding and the carefully positioned towels Briers had laid down. He also felt bloody marvellous.
“Thank you,” he whispered.
“No – thank you,” Briers said. “Can’t remember the last time I came that hard.”
“I do,” Miles said grinning at the street lamp light on the ceiling. “It was in that meadow above Chamonix when we were having a roll in that haystack and those hikers came along and had a picnic round the other side of it and we were both already too far along to stop. You said the same then. I think danger must sharpen the sensation for you or something.”
“You think?” Briers shifted enough to bite Miles’s ear. “I didn’t notice you being a shrinking violet. I didn’t notice you saying “no, no stop it immediately”. I mean, if you’d really wanted me to stop I would have done.”
“Oh, but when would we have got another opportunity. Perfect haystack, perfect view of Mont Blanc. There were even goats.”
Briers snorted. “And you acted out a fantasy you’d had ever since reading Heidi, you lovely little pervert, you.”

More another time.