Tag Archives: Excerpt

Sexy Sunday Snippet: Must Love Fashion by Deborah Garland

17 Dec

Holiday cheers to us all! This week we have a snippet from Deborah Garland’s Must Love Fashion, Book 1 in her Darling Cove series.

35926500

About the book:

Escape into the exciting world of fashion where Andrew Morgan, a former male model turned brand manager meets his match in Gwendolyn Mallory, a beautiful small town public relations specialist he doesn’t think he needs.

She was hired to turn the fashion world upside down…not his.

Go behind the scenes as Gwen sets out to prove she has what it takes to promote a prestigious brand like Prada. Andrew is already struggling to accept his PR responsibilities have been taken away from him, but the intense attraction he has for Gwen is just plain getting in the way of rational thinking—sleeping with a co-worker has always been on his to-don’t list. But Gwen challenges everything Andrew believes about love and relationships as he puts aside his heartbreaking past to have the woman he never knew he needed.

Follow the sparkling fuse slowly burning with sexual tension as Gwen brings to life a sexy devil…who just happens to wear Prada.

Excerpt:

Andrew’s expression settled into a contemplative stare. He inched closer. “As long as we’re talking about former employers, I’ll tell you something about me that only Enrico knows.”

Gwen’s mouth was open the entire time she listened to him reveal his secret past as a male model. It wasn’t hard to imagine. He was the perfect specimen of a man. Tall, broad shoulders, prominent cheek bones and full lips. “Is that why you asked me what I thought about male models?”

And if Starlight had designed male thongs and Andrew was one of her models…

“Self-consciously, yes. It’s something…I’m proud of but also ashamed of at times.”

“Being rewarded because you’re tall and beautiful is—” She quickly looked away. I just called him beautiful. Licking her dry lips, she finished. “I mean…having someone think you’re good enough to show off their clothes is nothing to be ashamed of.”

“Thank you.” His head had lowered but his dark eyes were glued to her.

“Thank you for confiding in me,” she responded humbly. Her head was spinning and not because of the wine.

“We’re a team, right?” Andrew had become a different person. He was speaking to her like…a friend. An entirely different side of the man had emerged.

“Absolutely.” She clinked his glass again.

Andrew smoothed his tie and sat up straight. “Speaking of being a team, Enrico said you asked to be moved to an office on the designer floor.”

Her cheeks blazed with heat. She’d almost forgotten about the request. So this was business. Not pleasure. She took a breath. “It’s hard to share an office. No matter what the circumstances.”

“I’d really rather you not sit on the designer floor.”

She leaned in. “Why?”

“That floor is chaotic. I can’t think straight when I’m down there.”

“I think it’s kind of fun. Lots of energy. It’ll be like watching Project Runway every day, all day.” She wiggled her shoulders, letting her passion show through. “I love the creative process. Seeing them take a bolt of fabric and with a few clips of the scissors and stabs of the sewing machine needle…voila! A dress. It’s really quite fascinating.” She paused and sat back, staring into her wine to avoid eye contact. “Besides, you can’t like me being in your office”

“Actually, I do.”

She looked up, startled by the confession.

He pressed his fingers together. “I thought it would be annoying. But you’re pleasant enough to be around.”

Pleasant enough… Oh yeah, Mr. Morgan, talk dirty to me. “I have to be honest though, the mess and clutter that I have to look at every day, is kind of getting to me.”

“I’ll work on that. I promise.” He finished his beer and took out his wallet. “You’re not going to be happy listening to Salvatore yell all day, trust me.”

“Yeah, but it’s mostly in Italian.” Her finger nails scraped the bottom of the pretzel bowl. It was empty again and she was too embarrassed to ask for another refill.

“Thank goodness…I’m sure if it was English, we’d have dozens of lawsuits on our hands.”

He was keeping her away from Salvatore to protect the company from a lawsuit. How very…corporate of him. She shrugged her shoulders. “Okay. At least until the fashion show, deal?”

“Deal.” His lips agreed but his eyes said maybe.

Her phone buzzed and vibrated. It was Greg again. She dumped it in her bag. She didn’t want him or her father to worry, but she was an adult. An adult who was allowed to go out after work and come home late.

Or…not at all.

*****

Get your copy!

AmazonBarnes and Noble, and iBooks

*****

Deborah Garland is a versatile author of women’s fiction, contemporary and paranormal romances. Her books are about love and the struggles of complicated relationships. The heroines are strong and witty and the heroes fall hard for them.

She lives on the North Shore of Long Island with her husband and two pugs, Zoe and Harley. And when she’s not writing, you can find her on a bar stool on a Friday night with a Grey Goose cosmopolitan, listening to her husband tell her the same stories over and over.

 

Sexy Sunday Snippet: Venomous Craving by Mary Auclair

10 Dec

VenomousCravingCover-low res

Lady Smut welcomes Mary Auclair with a bit about and a sexy excerpt from Venomous Craving, book 1 in the Eok Warriors series.

Blurb:

A desperate woman.

A warrior whose craving knows no bounds.

A passion that will change the fate of humanity.

In a world where humanity has been hunted to near extinction, Rose is captured and on her way to be sold on the lucrative black market. Seizing her only chance, she escapes and finds fate waiting for her in the form of another captive of terrifying strength: a legendary Eok warrior.

Together, Rose and the Eok warrior Karian will fight for their survival – and ultimately for the fate of the entire human race. During that fight, a dangerous attraction is born.

Karian, the unyielding Commander in Chief of the Eok armies, feels his control fading a little more every time he looks at the fragile but headstrong human. Soon, the call to make her his mate torments his body, turning his desires into an imperious craving. She seems to want him, too, but she has no idea of the consequences for her should he claim her.

Will Rose accept him as her bloodmate and seal both their destinies, before everything is lost?

Excerpt:

A few hours later, Rose held her knees up to her chest with her arms to ward off the frigid desert night, but from the sharpness of her breaths, he knew the cold still slithered from the sand and slipped into her body, depleting it of much needed warmth. Her biosynthetic cotton clothes were sorely inadequate and offered no protection. He knew she couldn’t stand much more of this cold, but he didn’t trust himself to touch her.

If he did, there was no telling where he’d stop. And when the Mating was sealed, he wouldn’t be able to think straight. He would be nothing but a lust-crazed fool for a few days, and those were days he couldn’t afford to spend.

Her teeth began to chatter and long, bone-deep shivers ran through her body. Guilt riddled each cell in his own body, and Karian turned to her. By fearing to lose his control, he’d let her get dangerously cold.

What a poor protector I’ve been. Look at her, she’s freezing.

“You’re losing too much heat.” He got up and walked over to Rose, then sat at her side. “Let me warm you.”

“It’s okay.” Her voice shook, and guilt lashed at him in blazing strokes of shame. “I’ll be fine. Keep watch.”

“You’re not fine.” His arm circled a shoulder of ice. “Midnight God, Pretty Thing! Your body is about to shut down.”

Karian grabbed Rose’s shoulder and pulled her into the cradle of his body. She made a face at his possessive gesture, but didn’t protest. She needed the heat too much. She was so small against him, her body made of subtle curves and secret places.

Lust came, unyielding and imperious. He had known it would, and ignored the tingling of the Mating Venom on his tongue. There was no way around it, the venom slipped through, entering his bloodstream.

I would warm her faster if we were both naked.

No. This was the Mating Venom talking again.

His hand reached up a goosebumps-covered arm, kneading the soft flesh, massaging his own heat into it. Rose moaned and hid her head in the crook of his neck, nestling her body closer to him. Heat flared from deep inside his body and he squeezed her closer, breathing in her intoxicating scent. His hands were animated by a will of their own as they explored her small, female body, running across her legs to grasp her firm, shapely thighs.

Rose’s breath on his neck turned raspy as she molded her breasts to his chest, leeching every sparkle of fire from his contact, sending his desire into overdrive. Karian’s blood turned to a flow of lava and he was remotely aware of his fangs, trickling with the Mating Venom, pushing the boundaries of his control just beyond his reach. Each second that passed made him more intoxicated, more lost in the lust for this female.

Her cold, full lips closed on the skin of his neck and a deep shudder traveled through his body, ending at his crotch. His seed stem was so hard it hurt, and when she pressed her firm ass on it, he could barely contain his impulse.

“You’re playing a dangerous game, Pretty Thing.” Karian nipped at the taut skin of her neck, then licked where his fangs had pinched her. His grasp on the Mating Venom was becoming thinner by the moment, and what was worse, he wasn’t sure he cared anymore. “Are you sure of what you’re asking?”

“No,” Rose said truthfully. “But we might die in a few hours. It seems to me like there’s no point in overthinking it. If I’m about to die, then I’d rather die with your taste in my mouth.”

He held her chin between his fingers and turned her head to him. Their gazes met and melded together. They were trapped inside each other’s souls.

Gazing into the gray depth of her eyes, Karian wasn’t sure where the female ended and where he began. His life before her, his impressive rise to the highest rank of Eok military and his years of relentless dedication, seemed empty and void of meaning in the face of what he felt now that he had her in his arms. Maybe she had always been there, somewhere in a corner of his mind, waiting.

“You have no idea what you’re asking of me,” Karian said. “You have no idea—”

He didn’t finish what he wanted to say. Rose closed her now warm mouth on his in a hungry kiss that lay waste to his sanity. Grasping her, he turned her around so she faced him and she wrapped her firm thighs around his waist, pushing her hips against his crotch. Karian tore his lips from hers, then covered the supple, soft flesh of her neck with his mouth, kissing every inch of skin deeply.

He stopped at the curve of her neck, his jaws opening and his tongue flicking over her quivering skin. A trickle of Mating Venom dripped from his fangs, the slick drug covering her tender flesh. Over his ear, Rose moaned and pushed her sex harder against his. The smell of her arousal invaded his nostrils and his burning erection throbbed, imperious with need.

Far in the back of his mind, a small voice suggested: Take her. Take the female. She’s yours.

His hand slid to her breasts, kneading them softly until her nipples perked, hard and needy, through the fabric. His fingers rolled the hard knobs of flesh and she arched her back, whimpering in pleasure, making her breasts protrude even more.

“Pretty Thing, you don’t know how I hurt for you.”

“Then don’t hurt anymore. Take what you want.” She managed to talk through the panting. “I want you, too.”

Karian’s lips landed on her throat with all the hunger of a long-held starvation. The impulse rushed through him and he opened his jaw to enclose the fragile flesh, fangs at the ready. Mating Venom coursed through his veins, veiling his thoughts with the need to make her his, to seal the bond with the bite. His jaw tightened and the fangs pushed against her skin, piercing the membrane slightly. The taste of blood entered his mouth, coppery and salty. It made the rage all the more urgent, the possession all the more pressing. He had to take her. He had to make her his mate.

“Are you going to hurt me?” Rose’s voice came, shaky but still laden with desire.

Her words reached him through the dense fog of lust. She was afraid. She should be. He was seconds away from giving in to his instincts to bind her life to his irremediably. Without her approval, without her knowledge.

He should be ashamed of himself.

With a supreme effort, he opened his jaw, releasing her throbbing throat. His breathing was fast and jagged, and his entire body vibrated with frustrated need.

I resisted this time, but I won’t be able to resist much longer.

*****

Venomous Craving’s is out now, and you can get your copy at Amazon, Barnes & Noble, or Kobo.

*****

Mary Auclair grew up in the quiet peace of a small rural village in the heart of Quebec, Canada.

​She now writes as much as her busy schedule allows to bring to life her inner world, filled with exotic planets, mysterious creatures and off course, hot, alpha heroes and the women who melt their hearts.

When she’s not writing, she can be found in the garden, walking her dogs or playing with fire in her kitchen as a part time hit-or-miss chef.

 

Sexy Sunday Snippet: Blind Magic by Natalina Reis

3 Dec

12.3.Blind Magic for jpegs_frontcover

This week we have some witchy magic from  Natalina Reis’ single title romance, Blind Magic.

Book blurb:

Marcy has never been in love. But when Oliver Dawson walks into her store, she falls head over heels. Unable to shake the feeling that she and Oliver were made for each other, for the first time in her life, the quirky witch considers casting a love spell for herself.

Oliver’s life is turned upside down when he’s shot and almost killed. Even though events haven’t been kind to the sexy police detective, he’s determined to make the best of his situation. But still, nothing could have prepared him for feisty Marcy breaking down his defenses, nor the healing tea that leaves him gagging.

Unconventional and hell-bent on getting her man, the little witch soon weaves her magic and captures his heart. He’s more than willing to give it to her, but when faced with his painful and turbulent past, neither are sure they’ll get their happily ever after.

Book excerpt:

“Nice bunnies, it’s time to go.” I often muttered to myself or things around my shop. It made for a less lonely day to hear my own voice. The dust bunnies seemed to be imitating their live namesakes and were reproducing at an alarming pace. I wiped under the shelf with an enthusiasm rivaled only by my eagerness to finish the task and have a good cup of Oolong tea. The Polka Dots and Eye of Newt witchcraft shop was not exactly busy these days. I had my loyal customers who always came back for more, but getting new ones seemed to be an issue. So when I heard the telling sound of my door chimes echoing through the shop, my heart almost skipped a beat with surprise.

A man and a woman waited by the register. I didn’t recognize them.

New customers!

They hadn’t seen me yet so I had the chance to study them while I approached from the back of the store. The woman was tall and gorgeous with beautiful long, dark hair that fell in cascades of silkiness down her shoulders and back. She held herself slightly apart from the man, looking around her with a tightness around her mouth that could only mean she didn’t like what she saw. The man looked familiar but I couldn’t place him. Handsome and standing at least one foot taller than me, hair just as dark as the woman’s but cropped very short in an almost military cut. Both were dressed elegantly in conservative suits, as if they had arrived from a business meeting somewhere. The man didn’t move much, staring ahead, apparently interested in whatever was displayed on the shelf behind the counter. Weird. There was nothing but an empty shelf there.

As if suddenly aware I was watching, the man glanced over at me. I stumbled backward, teetering on my high heels and overcome with an emotion I couldn’t explain. My heart raced at the speed of light, assailed by images of me and the stranger. Heat ran through me, frizzing my hair and curling my toes as vivid memories of his lips moving over mine took over all my senses.

I don’t even know the guy. How can I remember his taste?

But I could. I could taste coffee and dark chocolate, life and happiness, heaven. My body tingled in anticipation and pleasure as I recalled how his hands had cupped my breasts, enticingly warm and eager—

What the hell?

I could almost hear the crackling of fire, the eruption of feelings long forgotten, and the overwhelming yearning for a man who felt so familiar and yet, was but a stranger. Something’s coming this way— I forced myself to snap out of whatever this was and stepped forward.

“Welcome to the Polka Dots and Eye of Newt!”

My greeting startled the woman enough that she swiveled to look at me, but the man barely moved, acknowledging my arrival only with a slight nod. For a moment—a tiny fraction of a moment—I worried I would scare them away with my eccentric ways. Throughout the years I had found that people were a bit put off by my loud sense of style and odd choice of accessories. The moment past, I focused on making the newcomers feel at home.

“What can I do to help you? There is a potion and a spell for every ailment.” I giggled at my own statement. “I just can’t bring back the dead.”

The stunning woman wrinkled her nose as if she had smelled something bad, and licked her red, generous lips. Her gray aura was covered in an overlay of bubbly yellow—joy, slightly marred by guilt maybe. “Are you Marcy, the witch?”

“My reputation precedes me, I see.” I laughed again as I came around to the back of the counter. “So what can I do for you today?”

“I feel a little weird asking this, but….” The woman looked around as if afraid she would be overheard. I stole a glance at the man, still standing and staring stoically at the very empty and totally uninteresting shelf behind me. “Do you have something to help Oliver?” She looked at the man next to her. He twitched a little, the corners of his mesmerizing blue eyes crinkling.

“I’m assuming you’re Oliver.” I pointed at the man, but he didn’t move. A wave of electricity coursed through my body, and I shivered. “Help you with what exactly?”

“Is there a more private place to talk?” Lord, really? The shop was empty. It didn’t get much more private than this. The customer is always right. I pointed toward my small lounging area where a couple of overstuffed armchairs and a sofa surrounded a bright, tile-top coffee table.

The woman looped her arm through Oliver’s and they both followed me into the seating area. “Would you like some tea?” God, I hoped they did. My stomach was begging me for the comfort of its heat and tangy flavor.

“No, thanks.” Why wasn’t Oliver saying anything? And why did she help him to the chair? He was fully grown—and beautifully so, if I was honest with myself—and seemed to be totally capable of sitting himself down without any help. I sat next to the woman. “My name is Eva Dawson. This is my brother, Oliver.” She licked her lips again and placed her hands on her lap, her legs crossed at the ankles. She was the living picture of decorum and elegance. “Oliver is a policeman. You may remember him from about a year ago when he was shot while protecting two witnesses.”

“Of course!” I remembered now. No wonder he looked familiar. He was one of the cops who had been shot while on protection detail for my friends, Em and Jem. Not that it explained the connection I felt with him. “How are you doing, Oliver? You look like you’ve recovered well.” Oliver’s eyes twitched again but didn’t quite turn to me, choosing instead to stare at the wall.

Look at me, fool.

The yearning for his attention overshadowed everything else.

Look at me, please.

*****

Blind Magic is out now! Get your copy in your favorite format here.

*****

Natalina wrote her first romance at the age of 13 in collaboration with her best friend. Since then she has published five romance novels. She doesn’t believe you can have too many books or too much coffee. Art and dance make her happy and she is pretty sure she could survive on lobster and bananas alone. When she’s not writing, she shares her life with her husband and two sons.

Sexy Sunday Snippet: Marital Duty by Ingrid Hahn

26 Nov

Ingrid Hahn in the house with a sexy snippet from Marital Duty.

LS.IH_MaritalDuty_coverlg

Book blurb:

Marital duty has never been so satisfying…

Each morning while pretending to be asleep, Evaline St. John, Lady Kingston, submits to her husband’s attentions. She can never dare admit she yearns for more…until her friend Selina, Lady Beaumont, initiates a conversation about what she does with her own husband in the bedroom.

But Selina is bored with her intimate life and suggests that she and Evaline seduce their husbands. She will begin while Evaline will hide in the bedroom to watch. Evaline and Selina do more than make a pact, however. They give in to unspeakable desires and soon they are exploring each other’s bodies as they always dreamed.

When Evaline is forced to confess her misdeeds to her husband, Lord Kingston, he is shocked, but also aroused. The admission changes everything he believed about his wife–for the better. Now, whatever Evaline demands, he happily delivers.

Evaline and Selina realize they are falling in love–with each other–yet they still love their husbands. What are the two women to do?

When Selina’s husband catches all of them together in bed, he flies into a jealous rage and forbids them from ever seeing each other again. Now, it’s up to Lord Kingston to issue the ultimatum to Beaumont: come to their bed or lose them forever. Kingston must show his former friend that he has nothing to fear…and everything to gain.

Book excerpt:

A heavy pulse beat between her legs. She hadn’t wanted to stop. But, God save her, she was married. She couldn’t be doing this with anybody else. Least of all a woman.

Evaline could only hold her breath and flick her tongue out to wet her bottom lip, praying that Selina could find something to say that would somehow make this all right.

“I want to be your friend, Evaline. I do.”

Was that all? Bitter disappointment so crushed upon her that she felt as if she might wilt. The only thing that mattered was showing Selina a brave face. “And I want to be your friend.”

Selina shook her head. “No, you don’t understand. I want to be your friend, but I also want… I want more.”

“I can’t…I can’t give you more.” If only she could.

“Can’t you?” Selina crossed the room and took Evaline’s face between her hands, bringing them close.

It was going to happen again. And this time, Evaline couldn’t stop it.

Selina’s lips swept over hers, and she melted, stifling a moan. The response must have worked to embolden her, for the kiss deepened, becoming hard and insistent and demanding. Selina stepped closer. Evaline’s back met the wall. There was an unexpected force from the softness of Selina’s body pressing into hers—breasts crushing breasts, belly pressing belly. Their tongues met, wet swirling over wet.

Fornication with a member of the opposite sex was enough to earn a place in hell. To do this with another woman… God, forgive them. It felt so good. So right. So perfect.

Damn her wretched corset, damn it—her nipples were imprisoned below the binding, and sweet Lord in heaven, they ached for attention.

Without meaning to, Evaline reached up and grabbed at Selina. She’d scarcely imagined people could do such things, and yet here she was, wild and wanton in the arms of another. Never had another body been so close to hers, not in such a manner as this, not even her husband’s. Kingston would sometimes kiss her on the cheek at the end in that moment before his body slid from hers.

Selina’s hand worked down the front of Evaline’s body and settled at that very place. Their lips came apart.

Selina leaned in to trail her lips over Evaline’s neck, her breath warm as she panted. “I think of you. I touch myself and think of you. I think of you dressed for dinner, and Kingston so wild with want for you that he rips the fabric right off your body, and then he pushes you against a wall just like this”—she jerked against Evaline, hard, for emphasis—“and then he ruts into you like a feral madman until you scream from pleasure, and all the while I’m there in the room, and you know I’m there, but he doesn’t, and I have my skirts up, and I’m touching myself as I watch you, and at the moment you can’t take it anymore, I break into a million pieces.”

“You imagine that?”

Selina pulled back, her plump lips a shade darker than they’d been before. “Surely you too must imagine certain situations.”

“I-I hardly know.”

“Sometimes I imagine it another way. I imagine you watching me with him.”

The tension between Evaline’s legs pulled to an impossibly tight point. Oh, what that would do to her. To see for herself what another couple was like together in bed. She could hardly dare believe people did such things. “Me? Watch you with your husband?”

Selina nodded. “When Beaumont comes to me, I picture you’re there. Hiding behind my screen, watching as he takes me…” She trailed off, lost, it seemed, a league away. She licked her lips. “I want it so much.”

Evaline’s throat was dry, her voice husky as she made a shocking admission. “If you want it half as much as I want it, I don’t know how you stand it.”

Who was she? How could she be saying such shocking things? Among the waves of different emotions pounding through her now, none were regret.

Her friend’s lips parted. “I’m going to do it.”

“Do what?”

“Seduce him. My husband, I mean. I have needs. And he is going to attend them.” Selina gave a decided nod, then looked to Evaline, an unholy glint in her eye. “And you’re going to watch.”

~~~~~~~~~~~

Buy links:

iTunes

Amazon

Kobo

Ingrid Hahnis a failed administrative assistant with a B.A.

in Art History. Her love of reading has turned her mortgage

payment into a book storage fee, which makes her the friend

who you never want to ask you for help moving. Though

originally from Seattle, she now lives in the metropolitan

DC area with her ship-nerd husband, small son, and four

opinionated cats. When she’s not reading or writing, she

loves knitting, theater, nature walks, travel, history, and is a

hopelessly devoted fan of Jane Austen. Please connect with

her on social media! Find her on Twitter as @Ingrid_Writer,

on Instagram as ingrid_hahn, and on Facebook as Ingrid

Hahn.

Sexy Sunday Snippet: A Heart’s Desire by Kris Michaels

16 Jul

This week we have some hotness from Kris Michaels, the alter ego of a happily married wife and mother who loves to write erotic romance with a twist of military flavor.

About the book:

Agent McKenzie is nobody’s ‘yes’ boy and has the letters of reprimand to prove it. He smells the stink of political maneuvering in this case, and he can see the handwriting on the wall. Hell, the words are three feet high and written in crayon. Someone in his own agency wants a target on Liam Mercier’s back, but McKenzie would be damned if he’d put one there. The damaged man currently in his custody needs his protection, not manipulation. That’s why he’d agreed to use a safe house that was off the grid. Throwing away his rarely used FBI procedure book had nothing to do with the protective urges he felt around Liam. Nope, not a damn thing to do with heavy doses of desire, or spikes of lust. He was just doing his job, after all, he has a killer to catch and a victim to keep alive. Protecting his best bet of taking that sick bastard down was his civic duty.

Forced to face the nightmares of his past or lose his pension, Liam Mercier did the only thing he could do. He walked back into his personal hell. The man assigned to protect him is everything Liam wanted and needed—four years ago. Leaving the small island of sanity he’d been existing on could cost him everything. But being hunted by a genius, sadistic killer without the protection of the sexy, intense, agent was a guaranteed death sentence. Fate had dictated Liam’s course four years ago. The only thing he questioned was when his killer going to finish his work.

Book excerpt:

Steele pounded up the staircase. Worry tore at him. For the last four days, Liam had been withdrawn. He’d claimed it was a side effect of going off his medication, but in his gut, Steele knew better. Since their first morning together, Liam hadn’t slept more than a handful of hours and barely talked, other than short replies to direct questions. The man literally ran himself into the ground. The intensity of facing what Miller did, not only to him, but also to each of his victims, nearly consumed Liam. Running seemed to help him cope, but without proper sleep and food, Steele honestly didn’t know how much longer Liam could go on.

When Steele tried to comfort him, he’d pulled away, become distant. Doc Morgan said it was a typical response to the stress. She’d held extra sessions with Liam to help him cope with the memories the autopsy reports had dredged up. She’d told Steele that giving the briefing would be a big milestone in his recovery.

Steele wouldn’t classify the briefing today as big. Massive, gigantic, or colossal perhaps. Big didn’t hold a candle to what Liam was dealing with right now. Alone.

Steele knuckled Liam’s bedroom door, opening it without waiting. The room was empty but the sound of the shower drew Steele toward the en-suite bath. Steam billowed out as Steele moved in.

Liam stood naked beside the shower. Silver and red scars decorated his body in a sick twist of ivy and heart scrollwork. Seeing the scars in the daylight and in their entirety filled Steele with anguish and rage.

“This is what he did.” Liam focused on the falling water.

“I know.”

“He took my dignity, my sense of safety. He raped me, physically and mentally. The others didn’t live. He told me I was his special gift from God. He believes we are meant to be together for eternity. He won’t stop. He’ll come for me.” Liam lifted his gaze and Steele witnessed the devastation held in the chocolate-brown depths. “By the time they deciphered my notes and found me, I’d given up. I wanted Miller. When he… I wanted to please him, to be good enough for him so he’d stop the pain. I wanted to be what he said I was.” Liam’s voice broke into a sob.

Steele shut the bathroom door and stripped out of his suit, placing his automatic on top of the hurriedly shed clothes before he crossed the room. His hand fell on Liam’s shoulder but the anguished man didn’t move or acknowledge the touch. “Liam, let me help.” Steele brought his chest to Liam’s back and peppered his shoulders with quick, light kisses.

Liam closed his eyes and nodded his head. A slow, fat tear trickled down his cheek.

Steele continued pouring attention on the man. “Do you know what you are?”

“An abomination. A sick, twisted abomination.” Another tear dropped, traveling the same path.

Steele paused at the comments. Why would Liam think he was the abomination? Miller was the fucking animal. He turned the shattered man toward the bathroom’s full-length mirrored wall. “No, you’re a survivor. Open your eyes, angel.”

Liam opened his eyes and winced at the reflection. Steele slid both arms around Liam’s waist. He belted the shorter man to his body with one arm and snaked the other up his chest, lightly grasping Liam’s jaw. He leaned forward and whispered in his ear. “You’re strong. So damn strong, babe. You did what you had to do to survive. The man you have trapped in your memory isn’t the man I see. You are neither his creation nor his exhibit. You are bruised and a little broken, but you are so much more than what he did to you.”

“I’m not. How can you say that? How can you even touch me?” The anguish and sorrow behind the question nearly floored Steele.

“Because I see you, not what he did to you. You are an amazing man. Dedicated, caring, and so damn strong. When we were together I saw the hot flush of arousal build over your chest and creep up you neck. I saw your eyes darken into the most intense shade of brown, so dark with desire that they’re almost black. And that mouth… Fuck, you are every gay man and straight woman’s dream.”

~~~~~

A Heart’s Desire is available on Amazon and free on Kindle Unlimited.

~~~~~

Kris Michaels believes in meeting life head on…as long as there is an ample supply of coffee, whiskey and wine! She believes love makes this crazy life worthwhile. When she isn’t writing Kris enjoys a busy life with her husband, the cop, and her two wonderful sons. Follow her on Facebook and Twitter and check out her webpage.

 

Sexy Sunday Snippet: At His Mercy by Shelly Bell

9 Jul

This week’s sexy snippet comes from the always awesome Shelly Bell. A sucker for a happy ending, Shelly Bell writes erotic suspense and action-filled erotic thrillers with high-emotional stakes for her alpha heroes and kick-ass heroines.

She began writing upon the insistence of her husband who dragged her to the store and bought her a laptop. When she’s not working her day job, taking care of her family, or writing, you’ll find her reading the latest smutty romance.

Book blurb:

Angel in his arms . . . Devil at her heels

Part of the Forbidden Lovers series.

One last, no-strings night of indulgence. That’s all Tristan wants before he begins a much-needed new chapter in his life. Instead he finds an innocent angel in pink who brings him to his knees.

Isabella is done hiding from the world . . . and her haunting memories. Discovering courage in the arms of a perfect stranger, she finally lets go and sheds her inhibitions.

To Isabella’s shock, she soon learns that Tristan is more than her mystery man-he’s her professor. But Tristan isn’t the only person who’s found Isabella on campus. A dark figure from her past has come back for her. Now Tristan will risk anything to protect Isabella . . . even if it costs him his life.

S bell

Book excerpt:

She took a deep breath and planted her feet, raising her arms straight above her. He looped the rope over a thick tree branch and, within minutes, had both her hands restrained and completely immobile. She’d expected the rope to be scratchy and uncomfortable, but it was surprisingly silky. Caressing.

There was no mistaking that she was scared. Her heart thumped wildly in her chest, and her entire body shook. But mixed in there was fervent desire. In this moment, she would do absolutely anything to feel his hands on her, even if that meant allowing him to bind her.

Because the rope itself became an extension of him.

As he crouched to secure her feet with rope and metal stakes that were usually intended for tents, she couldn’t stop herself from looking over her shoulder and scanning the woods around them for any sign of approaching people.

He never stopped to look up, but somehow he saw her anyway. “Whose job is it to make sure we’re not discovered?” he asked, his voice stern and admonishing.

Shame punched her chest. Her action had negated her promise to trust him. “Yours, Tristan.”

“That’s right,” he said, tying the rope so it brought her to her tiptoes. His warm breath drifted over her backside. He kissed her tenderly on her right butt cheek before sinking his teeth into it.

She whimpered, the pain a delicious aphrodisiac that only served to arouse her further. He rubbed his day-old stubble all over her behind, lighting up the nerves until her head rolled back from pleasure.

“Let go,” he crooned. “You only need to do what I tell you.” He stood straight, his covered groin pressing against her spine. “I’m going to make it easier on you.”

She groaned as he moved away from her. He pulled a piece of dark fabric from his bag.

“A blindfold.” She swallowed. “That makes it easier?”

He rubbed the satiny material on her chin. “Your only job is to take what I give you.”

Not asking for permission, he covered her eyes, plunging her into darkness, and tied the blindfold behind her head. Opaque, the fabric completely blocked out everything.

Without her sight, her other senses blossomed. She heard the leaves rustling in the breeze and birds chirping. The sun’s rays shone down on her, heating her right shoulder, while dirt cooled the bottoms of her feet. Tristan’s shoes crunched over the leaves, telling her he’d walked away from her to go to his bag again.

She sensed Tristan’s eyes on her, as if he was greedily drinking in the image of her bound to a tree, exposed and vulnerable. The sound of his footsteps announced his return.

He lifted her hair off her shoulder and pressed his lips there. He cupped a breast in his hand and rolled her nipple between his fingers. She sighed, relieved to finally have his hands on her skin.

A sharp, piercing pain in that nipple stole her breath. “What did you do?”

It felt as if he’d bitten down on her flesh with sharpened teeth.

“Nipple clamps,” he said with a touch of sadistic glee. “How do they feel?”

She was almost about to complain, when she realized the pain had disappeared, leaving a tension on the center of her nipple “When you put it on, it hurt, but now…” The tension morphed into a pleasurable throbbing that radiated outward. “Oh God, it feels so good.”

He played with her other nipple, getting it good and erect before attaching a clamp. This time, she didn’t care about the pain, knowing that in seconds, she’d be rewarded with overwhelming pleasure. He tugged on them, eliciting a spark that shot straight to her pussy. Arching her back, she fruitlessly struggled against the rope. The need to rub her clit consumed her.

“Wait until they come off.” He chuckled darkly, as if he couldn’t wait for it.

How did she not know he was a sadist? Sure, he’d enjoyed spanking and flogging her, but this…this was…amazing.

Crack!

Her head snapped up in alertness. That noise sounded familiar. Did he have a whip? “Is that a—”

“Shh. I’m warming up.”

It was one thing to wear nipple clamps, but whipping was a different story. Her BDSM trainer had explained the amount of pain depended on the kind of whip used and, without her sight, she had no idea what instrument Tristan wielded. “Warming up? I don’t—”

Crack!

“Oh!” The searing bite of the whip sank its teeth into the back of her right thigh, making her instinctively hop up on her toes. Blistering heat wrapped around her leg and arrowed up straight to her pussy.

“Don’t worry about what I’m doing…,” he demanded as he struck her again, this time on her left thigh.

Crack!

“…or what I’m doing it with. Just feel it.” His voice was hypnotic, leading her away from the forest and the whip to the sea, where she floated weightless on the tall waves.

Crack!

The pain was there just under her right butt cheek, but just as it had with the clamps, it changed. Now she welcomed it. Craved it. Because the brief sting was worth the tremendous pleasure that followed. Her whole body pulsed in time with her heart.

She felt alive.

Intoxicated.

Free.

“Accept it and make me proud,” he said, striking her thigh again.

She could do that. She wanted to do that. For him. And more importantly, for herself.

***

At His Mercy is available on Kindle, Nook, and Kobo!

Wild Excerpt for Wild Week

18 May

by Kiersten Hallie Krum

Hope all you readers have been enjoying Wild Week here at Lady Smut. Whether it’s Alexa Day’s Praise of the Wild Man or Elizabeth Shore hunting for ethical porn, it’s a wild time day by day to celebrate of the nomination of my novel, Wild on the Rocks, for InD’Tale’s Magazine‘s prestigious RONE award in the Suspense/Thriller: Short category. Voting goes all week, and I’d love it if you’d head on over and show some support for Wild on the Rocks, which is now on sale for $.99 exclusively from Amazon!

Vote today!

Wanna know what you’re getting into? Keep reading to see how, a year after their divorce, Jasper and Quinn find each other again in the most unlikely of places. Of all the joints in the world…

Enjoy this excerpt from Wild on the Rocks!

 

 

Casa Blanca, Barefoot Bay, Florida.

“Toldja. Beaches, babes, and booze. The unholy trifecta. Praise sweet baby Jesus.”
Twist’s voice sounded through Jasper’s ear pierce as he scanned the patio area where the rehearsal dinner
cocktail hour was under full swing.
He had to admit that, for once, Twist had got it right.
The Thornquist wedding—or the Thorny Wedding as the security team had taken to calling it—was as
opulent as advertised. Jasper stopped trying to count the number of recognizable faces from notable Washington
families after the first hour. Not that he knew a lot of them on sight. Twist had a better take on the Who’s Who,
given he came from some seriously old money, a secret he kept close and actively hid from their team.
“There’s definitely enough booze,” Jasper agreed. “We’ll be fishing women in formal wear out of the
pool before the bride gets down the aisle.”
“Ah, the wet gown contests. Nothin’ like a dirty debutante.” He sighed with such exaggeration, Jasper
fancied he felt an actual breeze. “Sometimes, at night, I can still hear the screams…of pleasure.”
He absolutely would not smile at Twist’s ridiculousness. “We’ve been here twenty-four hours and your
degenerate side is already at full throttle.”
“Brother, it’s my best side.”
“How ’bout we try to be professionals for a while. Did you tag the congressman’s daughter?”
“Your four o’clock. She’s on her third drink and laughing with the bartender.”
“Spectacular. That’s what we need: a horny bartender.”
“The bartender is a woman, and if she’s horny for the congressman’s daughter, then I’m moving in for a
ringside seat. Shee-it, she is hawt.”
At the mention of a female bartender, Jasper’s head instantly filled with the image of Quinn, her whole
body shaking with laughter at something stupid he’d said before she leaned her elbows on the bar to get closer to
him as if even the air between them was too much distance to bear.
Until she’d run out on him six months later while he was OUTCONUS and put all the distance of the
world between them for good.
Annoyed, he shook off the memory like he longed to shake off the woman. That’s why he was here, right?
To exorcise the taste and feel and haunting memories of his wife on a willing woman.
Ex-wife.
A short-term, holiday affair was the perfect way to end the self-enforced abstinence he’d endured since
his divorce. Jasper was normally careful who he fucked, his career and his family history enough that he didn’t
treat sex as casual even when having casual sex. The one time he’d taken a chance on a wild lover, she’d
quickly become his wife and soon after broken his heart but good.
This temporary fantasy away from his shattered life was the perfect place to learn from his mistakes. And
make a few new, short-term ones.
“Was it ‘hot’ or ‘horny’ where we lost you, Queen?”
Twist’s voice held more than a thread of humor in it. If he made one comment over coms about Jasper
being hard up, best friend or not, he was going to kill him.
“Sit rep,” he snapped.
“You’re not CO on this op,” Twist reminded him with no small amount of glee. “Man, you should see this
bartender.”
Jasper rolled his eyes behind his aviator shades. “We’re on a job, Twist. Not on vacation or the prowl.”
“We’re on a job on vacation, Queen. And I take my wingman duties seriously for both. Relax. You can
count on me to Set. You. Up.”
“I’ll relax when you stop yapping in my ear while I’m getting paid to look after people who could buy or
sell small countries with their pocket change.”
“You better have more than change in your pocket, brother. Not kidding, Queen. You need to come over
here and check her out. She is smokin’ hot.”
“Happy as I am to hear you appreciate the staff, maybe you could spare the rest of us the play by play,
Sisti.”
Luke McBain’s terse voice made Jasper grimace. Thanks to Twist, he was getting chastised over coms.
Soon as they were off duty, he was gonna kick Twist’s ass.
“I could do for a little play by play,” one of the other guards admitted. “These political fuckers are boring
as hell.”
“These political fuckers are our well-paying clients,” McBain reminded everyone. “Try not to disrespect
them to their faces.” A series of “yes, sirs” flooded the com line. “Rehearsal’s over. We’re headed back to the
resort.”
Along with five of his guys, McBain was down on the beach guarding the principals—bride, groom,
attendants, and parents—while the rest of them babysat everyone not in the wedding party. That McBain’s wife
and her wedding planning partners were on the beach probably had a lot to do with his hands on approach at that
vector. “Queen, report.”
“Guests are bugging out from the patio, moving into the dining room. Got ten lingering.”
“Hustle them along. I want everyone under roof in five. Rocco, Johnny, and Marlowe, you three are in
Junonia’s main room covering the dinner. It’s a sit down, so stay out of the way, but remain visible. The rest of
you patrol the perimeter. Sisti, meet up with Queen on the patio. The two of you take position inside the
restaurant at the bar.”
“Sure you want Twist close to the hot bartender?” Jasper asked.
“I’ve seen the woman. If he hits on her, I’ll want a ringside seat. I could use a good laugh today.”
Jasper wasn’t the only man chuckling over the channel at that one.
He moved from his position at the back corner of the patio from which he could see all the way down to
the beach. Table by table, he gently urged people into the restaurant proper, waiting as the women gathered the
whatnot women everywhere seemed to cart around with them no matter the occasion. His go bag had less to it
than some of these women’s purses.
He felt Twist at his six as he helped an octogenarian to her feet and transferred her surprisingly strong
grip to the arm of a waiter. The old dame patted his ass before shuffling off.
“Please tell me you’re not that hard up,” Twist begged, and Jasper heard him in stereo; at his back and
again through the coms.
Damn it.
“Fuck off,” he muttered.
“Oh ho!” Twist chortled with an elbow to Jasper’s gut. “Queen’s losing his cool! Is the world ending?!”
“Keep it up and yours can be.”
Twist snorted, and Jasper would’ve been happier to see his friend up to his old tricks if only he wasn’t
the target.
“I can do you better than a biddy,” Twist promised.
“For the love of my sanity, don’t help me.”
“Gotta look out for my boy.”
“Try doing that by not discussing my sex life on open coms.”
“What sex life? You haven’t gotten laid in months.”
“You know wingman and stalker mean two different things, right?”
“Rumor has it, you’ve got the bluest balls on the team for a man without a pregnant wife or girlfriend. The
boys have bets on how long it’ll take you to nail someone this weekend.”
“I’ll take that action,” Ryan, on the perimeter, piped in.
“Me too,” added Rocco from inside the restaurant.
“Done,” Twist confirmed. “We’ll settle up after the dinner.”
“I’m not hitting on the bartender,” Jasper vowed. “Leave me out of this little clique.”
Twist slapped a consoling hand on Jasper’s shoulder. “Ladies like it when you know how to find that
part.”
Laughter rang on the coms again while Jasper shook his head. “I can’t believe this shit,” he muttered.
“Believe it. Consider Operation King Me underway.”
Jasper’s gaze hit on McBain, who waited for them at the patio door to the restaurant. “Shut it,” he ordered
even though he knew McBain already heard Twist’s nonsense in his ear.
“When Nick gave me your names, I had no idea we’d be getting security and a show,” McBain gibed.
Jasper bit back a grimace. McBain eyed Twist with a peculiar gleam that made Jasper uneasy. “You know, don’t
you?”
That nagging sense of trouble that had been prodding the base of Jasper’s skull all day finally burst.
“What did you do?”
But Twist looked equally confused. “Swear Roy, I have no idea what he’s on about.”
Boss or not, Jasper raised a brow at McBain in silent demand. He jerked his head in a “follow me”
motion and led the way from the patio into the restaurant’s bar.
“I thought it was coincidence or a joke. But my guys only finalized her background check this morning.”
Her? Alarm snaked up Jasper’s spine. Oh, hell no.
“They gave me the final report this morning,” McBain continued. “Not hard to see you share the same last
name.” He gestured toward the bar where a woman worked to fill cocktail orders. “Don’t suppose she’s your
cousin?”
Jasper watched her move, the dance of her motions unchanged from a year before, a sinuous weave that
only hinted at the flexibility she’d brought to their bed. He’d told her once he’d never seen anyone make pouring
a glass of wine look so sexy.
This was still true.
Her dark-brown hair hung past her shoulders now to the middle of her back, long layers that fell forward
to brush her sharp cheekbone when she bent over the bar to serve a drink. He knew how those strands felt when
gripped in his hands, or scraping down his belly as her wide, lush mouth mapped its way down his body to her
target.
She wore the standard server’s uniform of white top and black bottoms, but her collared, tuxedo shirt was
fitted to her impressive rack, emphasized by the two buttons she left undone to show the tempting gulley in her
cleavage. The shirt nipped in at her waist and what little of her black trousers he could see clung to her hips. A
long pearl necklace was twisted into a knot to dangle down her front and Jasper knew, he knew, she’d be
wearing her motorcycle boots, even to this kind of wedding. When she stretched for a bottle off the top shelf, the
banner of skin left bare at her midriff came into view and Jasper proceeded to completely lose his shit.
“You already know she’s not my cousin,” he snarled while rage flooded his body and instant arousal made
him hard as a spike. “She’s my wife.”

* * *

Nettie’s tray clattered onto the bar. “Holy shit,” she gasped, eyes fixed on the restaurant’s entrance. “Is it
Christmas already?”
Quinn glanced over her shoulder as a trio of men crossed the threshold. The last rays of sun shined
through the door behind them, blinding her and making the men little more than shadows. Large shadows with
broad shoulders.
Hoo. Shah.
She shielded her eyes and turned back to the blender. “We should send God a fruit basket.”
“Full of gold.” Nettie nodded toward the man on the end. “That’s Luke McBain. He does the resort’s
security. Very married to one of the wedding planners.”
“So looky, but no touchy.”
Nettie grinned. “Exactly.”
Quinn checked the men out again from the corner of her eye. All three wore black collared shirts tucked
into belted black trousers and topped with aviator glasses they removed almost simultaneously as they came
fully into the bar and approached the women. As classic a uniform for their job as her black and white get-up
was for hers. Standing nearly at the same six-foot plus heights—though the one on the opposite end from McBain
was an inch or two shorter—they were all armed, two with weapons in hip holsters while the guy in the center
sported a shoulder rig.
To Quinn’s mind, shoulder rigs were the sexy, Mad Men version of gun holsters. In a good way. Intensely
masculine but minus the infuriating sexism. So her eyes lingered on that man, skimming over his wide, muscular
chest framed within the holster’s leather strips while she absently noted he alone of the three had his sleeves
rolled up to the elbow. His thick throat rippled as she watched and sharp hunger spiked deep in Quinn’s belly,
the likes of which she hadn’t felt in more than a year. What looked like two days’ worth of scruff covered his
scarred chin, surrounding lips she’d bet were full and a shy short of too fleshy when not drawn into their current
tight line. Coasting past raised cheek bones, the hair on the back of Quinn’s neck lifted and her nipples
contracted into painful points as her avaricious gaze met eyes she already knew were a stunning golden hazel
when not darkened with swelling rage that made his pupil expand until the color was a mere glowing rim.
“Can you imagine having that in your bed every night?” Nettie said.
“I can, actually.” Quinn replied on little more than an exhale. The bottle of wine in her hands trembled.
She set it down on the bar with extreme care and deliberately laid her hands on either side of it before looking
up into the breathtaking, hard-set face of her husband.
Ex-husband.
“Fuck, Roy, but you can pick ’em,” the third man said as he settled onto a stool, seemingly oblivious to the
heaving tension.
Quinn ignored him. She knew better than to look away from the seething powder keg that was Jasper.
“You look like a recruitment poster for Badasses ’R Us.”
He stepped toward the bar as though seconds from yanking her over it. “You look like you’re on your way
to try out for the Coyote Ugly sequel.”
His friend split a grin between them. “Okay, now I believe she’s your wife.”
Ex-wife,” Quinn and Jasper snapped simultaneously, which made the man crack up.
“Cut it out, Twist,” Jasper growled.
This was Twist? She risked taking her eyes off Jasper, fascinated to finally meet his closest friend, though
it escaped her why it could possibly mattered after all this time.
Twist’s grin didn’t falter, but it didn’t reach his eyes, either, and the frank animosity there scorched her
skin.
Okay by her. Not like she was trying to make friends.
“Luke McBain.” The other man introduced himself with a warm smile. She tore her eyes from Twist and
reflexively accepted his proffered hand.
“Quinn McQueen,” she replied without thinking and immediately regretted it when Jasper’s entire torso
recoiled.
The tailored shirt rippled over his muscled chest, mesmerizing Quinn so that Jasper startled her when he
leaned those bare, cut forearms on the bar and got right back in her space.
Holy crap, arm porn. She was in no way prepared for her ex-husband’s delectable arm porn.
He glared at her hand still caught in McBain’s until she tugged it free. “Come again?” The sibilant
whisper coasted over her skin. Quinn caught her breath.
Even though his arrival right now, right here, and all that might mean scared the holy shit outta her, even
after all the bone-crushing, lonely days and weeks she’d spent without him, even now, that deep rumble of his
voice raised goose bumps on her arms.
“Jasp,” she whispered with absolutely no idea what to say beyond that or how to justify being Quinn
McQueen again without telling him that simply having his name was a comfort when she felt more lost than ever
before in her life.
His eyes flared with heat. They were close enough now for Quinn to see that ribbon of green gold around
his pupil glow bright. She locked her knees and clutched her hands together beneath the edge of the bar to keep
from grabbing him.
“You’re using my name again? Since when?”
“About a week ago,” she admitted, her voice small.
“For hell’s sake, why?”
Because I’m on the run from the Russian mob and the only place I’ve ever felt safe was with you.
Yeah, like either of them was prepared to detonate that cans of worms.
She forced herself to shrug. “I like the cadence.”
His hands spread wide on the wood. She half expected him to vault right over the bar. “You like the
cadence?” he hollered back, practically in her face.
She huffed out a breath. “It’s not like I expected you to find out about it! What are you doing here
anyway?”
He tossed an incredulous glance at McBain as though the answer were obvious. And to be fair, it kinda
was. “Searching for buried treasure.”
Despite his dry tone, Quinn’s eyes went wide at the thought of such an adventure. “Really?” she breathed.
“Jesus, no. I’m working security for the wedding.” He shook his head with familiar exasperation. “Christ,
you look ready to abandon everything to go buy shovels and rent a trawler.”
“Ah, is this gonna be a problem?” McBain asked.
Slowly, Jasper eased back from the bar. “That remains to be seen.” Quinn could see he was already
locking himself down, pulling those pesky emotions back under his control. He’d always been able to get over
her so easily when she’d barely been able to let him walk out of a room without her.
Guess nothing had changed on that front.
“What are you doing here, Quinn?”
Irritation quickly replaced her shock, and Quinn reclaimed her attitude along with it. “Uh, working.
Obviously.”
“And I’ve no doubt my wife would appreciate it if your impending domestic didn’t upset her high-society
wedding,” McBain warned without heat.
Quinn zoned back in on the unfinished tab before her. “Shit. Nettie, I’m sorry. Let me get you sorted.”
The waitress eyed her with rampant speculation. Quinn expected she and Jasper would be tasty fresh meat
for the locals when this got out. Say in five minutes. Or however long it took Nettie to speed dial the whole
world as she knew it.
Charity would have a cow not to have had first dibs.
“Don’t worry about it, hon,” Nettie reassured her, but Quinn was already dumping the trio of cocktails.
“These margaritas have settled. Take the wine out while I whip up a fresh batch.” Running the blender
would hold off Jasper’s impending interrogation, too, maybe long enough for her to come up with an explanation
that didn’t involve the words “Russian mob” and “murder.”
Because there was no way he was letting it go that easily. Jasper McQueen did not quit until he got what
he wanted, be it answers or his ring on her finger or her ass in his San Diego condo.
“Queen, you and Twist stay here for the duration of the dinner. Rotate out with one of the boys in the
dining room on the hour,” McBain ordered. “Time for me to walk the perimeter.”
She threw a look at him over her shoulder in time to see him give Jasper a shoulder clasp of male
solidarity.
Great. He had reinforcements.
“More bartenders are coming tomorrow with the catering staff for the wedding,” she explained needlessly
after McBain exited and Nettie toddled off. “But I’m it for tonight’s dinner, so I don’t have time for a chat.”
“I’ll wait,” Jasper promised.
Of course he would. “Ho-kay then.”
Since she couldn’t budge him and had zero hope of ignoring him, Quinn focused on the work. She finished
the margaritas as Nettie returned with a new order, all the while feeling Jasper’s accusing gaze locked on her,
his eyes tracking her every move as though she’d disappear if he blinked.
God, he looked good enough to eat.
Down girl. He wasn’t hers anymore, and while she might still look, not being able to touch would
probably kill her before the Russian mob did.
* * *
“So!” Twist broke into the charged silence with his usual delicacy. “How’d you crazy kids meet?”
“Vegas,” Jasper growled. “The last time you forced me on vacation. And no, it did not ‘stay there’.”
Twist’s disbelieving gaze switched back and forth between Jasper and Quinn. “That was only a long
weekend. You’re telling me you met and got married in four days?!”
Said like that, it sounded as nutso as it was. But Jasper had taken one look at Quinn in the bar of the
Bellagio that first night and knew there was no one else for him.
Shockingly, she’d felt the same.
For a little while.
Betrayal battled with rage for dominance and beat down the fuckin’ thrill that’d ripped through his chest
when he’d first realized Quinn was within reach again. He barely stifled the urge to drag her over the bar and
handcuff them together before she could leave him again.
He reached for his frayed control and found it in tatters. That had been the case with Quinn from the start.
The moment he laid eyes on all that was her—tits and ass and so much infectious attitude, she nearly vibrated
with it—he’d been wild for her.
Christ, two minutes around her and already she was driving him mad.
And he didn’t need an audience for that madness.
“You’re not being paid to guard that bar stool,” Jasper pointedly reminded his friend.
“Jeez, bring a guy to paradise for a vacation, and all he wants to do is work.”
“Vacation starts after we’re done with this job. A job that has to pay for that vacation given we’re on
enforced leave without pay.”
“You’re on what?!” Quinn said, pausing in her drink mixing to gape at him and Twist.
Jasper stifled a wince. Quinn had a rabid curiosity streak and tended to dig in exactly where he didn’t
want her. “Leave it.”
“Whoops,” Twist taunted. “Cat’s outta the bag.”
“You can cut that shit out at any time.”
“It’s hardly top secret intel. Unlike your marriage, apparently.”
Quinn grabbed a bottle of triple sec and shot him a look. “I know, right?!”
Jasper’s head tipped back so he investigated the ceiling. “And now you’re bonding. Spectacular.”
“Hey, pal, you’re the one who went to Vegas, married a superhot chick, and hid it from everyone you
know, including me. Inquiring minds wanna know.”
“I wanna know.” Jasper heard the anonymous mutter in his ear piece and realized with embarrassed shock
that he and Twist were still on coms. Christ, they were all a bunch of gossiping women.
He ripped the mechanism out of his ear and threw it across the room where it shattered a vase so
violently, Twist jumped. “Maybe you could do me a solid and hold off until after I find out how the wife I
haven’t seen or heard from since she ran out on me a year ago winds up in Barefuck Bay the exact day we do!”
That brought Quinn’s chin up. “Ex-wife,” she reminded him, unruffled by his uncharacteristic display of
temper. “And you left me first.”
Jasper’s hands curled into fists. The gall of the woman! “I was on a mission,” he gritted out between
clenched teeth, blood on a fast boil. “For my country.”
“Yeah, well, next time have the courtesy to let your wife know you’re leaving before you disappear for six
weeks!”
He set his feet and crossed his arms and practically read her mind when she swept him up in a glance and
smirked. The Patented Jasper McQueen Stubborn Stance. “Terrorists aren’t known for giving advanced notice,
babe. We go where we’re commanded to go, and when the intel comes in or the embassy is attacked or the
hostages are taken, we go fast. And it was eight weeks, which you would know if you had bothered to stick
around!”
Her eyes narrowed. “Maybe I would have, sweetheart, if I hadn’t found out from some reluctant secretary
at the yard when I called trying to find you that you didn’t even bother to tell the Navy you got married!”
Jasper’s retort was stymied by the beep of his watch alarm marking the hour. He hit the off button and
ordered Twist, “Go relieve Rocco.”
“We don’t switch out for another thirty.”
“Find something to do,” Jasper snarled. “Somewhere else.”
Twist made a show of getting up. “Sure I shouldn’t stick around in case you suddenly need an alibi?”
“Don’t need an alibi, ’cause when I kill you, it’ll be justified.”
“You love me. You know it.” He winked at Quinn, and then scuttled back as Jasper took two menacing
steps in Twist’s direction. “Calm down, Queen, I’m going. Gotta line up a bridesmaid anyway now the hot
bartender is off the market.”
“You should go with him,” Quinn advised after Twist had cleared the doorway, shutting the wooden
panels behind him to close them off from the party.
But Jasper had just realized this was the perfect chance for him to find out what the fuck went so wrong in
their marriage that she scuttled away like a fugitive without so much as talking to him. Had he pushed too fast for
too much? Had he frightened her? Or was it merely that he’d been her next wild ride and she’d never loved him
in the first place? It’d torn him up for months, wondering what he had done that was so wrong he chased away
the love of his life.
But now she was here. Now, he would know.
He planted his feet again, hands on hips. “Not going anywhere till I get some answers.”
It helped that the rehearsal schedule worked in his favor. The rehearsal guests had finally tucked into their
entrees making a break from cocktail orders. The wait staff made similar use of the lull and efficiently prepped
tables for the next course in the other room, which meant he and Quinn would be effectively alone in the bar
until the dinner ended.
He saw the moment Quinn realized he had her trapped.
She took a step back, grabbed the ledge behind her, and leaned back against her hands. The position thrust
her chest forward and lifted the edge of her blouse even further away from her low-slung trousers.
Rock, meet hard place.
Jasper knew she was too pissed at him to be deliberately trying to arouse him, but that didn’t reduce the
size of his reaction.
“Oh yeah?” she replied and fuck him, her sneer was such priceless Quinn attitude that, in spite of himself,
he had to fight off a grin and get a tighter rein on his hard on. “Like what?”
“Like why you’re using my name again when you told me—through the lawyers, because God forbid you
should talk to me—how eager you were to shed every trapping of being married, including my name.”
She shrugged. “I changed my mind.”
That ratcheted up his simmering rage so fast, he almost put his fist into the bar.
His narrowed gaze swept her from top to bottom. Her cheeks were flushed, enough that he could see the
heated flesh even in the dim light of the bar. She dodged his eyes too, which was a very un-Quinn thing to do…
unless she was trying to hide something from him. “Cut the crap, Quinn. You in trouble?”
His jaw clenched when her face went blank. That quick, she’d shut him out. If not for her body’s reactions
—reactions he suspected she had no clue she was giving him—he’d have thought her unmoved by his return.
“It’s really none of your business.”
“Bullshit.”
That cracked her mask. Irritated, her shoulders squared off. “Where the hell do you get off?”
“Where do I get off? Are you fucking kidding me?”
“No, Jasper, I am not fucking kidding you,” she said with an exaggerated patience that ramped him up
even more. “We are divorced. Dee-vorced. Who and what I am is no longer your concern.”
That did it. Jasper could practically hear the tether of his control snap as he vaulted over the bar, locked
his hands on her hips, and yanked her against him.
Her hands flew up on a gasp, but he was too fast for her to push him away, and they got caught instead
against his chest. Jasper took advantage of her open mouth and swooped in.
Her taste was narcotic. His mind fogged over and the burn in his chest exploded as he drank deep.
Somewhere along the way that day, she’d indulged in a shot of rum. He licked the spicy flavor from her lips and
dived deeper.

Click on image to buy!

Caught by surprise, Quinn had no time to put up her shields, shields she’d held fast even when he’d been
deep inside her, so he owned her mouth from the start and rubbed his tongue against hers in a slow rhythm that
belied his raging lust. She always wanted to rush to the finish and never more than when they were having sex,
laser focused on her orgasm and ready to get on with it. So he would bridle that instinct and instead prime her
with slow teases of what she’d get when he had her naked and spread for him. Blissful torture that only his
brutal training to become a SEAL had allowed him to endure, but she’d always, always, made it more than
worth it.
This time, slow was going to have to wait for round two.
Or three.
He lifted his mouth to give them half a second to catch a breath, nipping once at her bottom lip because he
couldn’t stand to lose her taste even for that long. She exhaled loudly through her nose and then took the
offensive, and it was her tongue in his mouth staking claim and filling Jasper with exultant satisfaction.
My wild lady.
One of her hands slid under his pit to grab his lat while the other plunged up into his hair to hold him to
her. The movement put them chest to chest and Jasper groaned as the hard points of her nipples poked him
through their shirts. She lifted her lips, tilted her head, and kissed him again, the new angle deeper and
astoundingly more intimate.
Crushed between them, her necklace rattled against his chest until it gave up the battle and split apart,
crashing pearls to the ground like scattered hail. He felt her back-of-the-throat whimper in his dick and squeezed
the bounty of her hips. She followed his silent direction by boosting her ass up onto the ledge so he could bump
her knees wide and finally, finally, shove his hard cock into the cradle of her covered pussy after being denied it
for twelve…fucking…months.
His arms crisscrossed the small of her back, brushing the edge of those low-slung pants so that his thumbs
skirted the top of her ass. He held her tight enough to make breathing a chore, and he didn’t care, he didn’t care
one damn bit, they could suffocate from kissing and that’d be fine by him, because he knew the second he set her
free, she’d be gone.
And he would not lose her again.
And then, as suddenly as it began, the kiss was over. They stood there, clutching each other, mouths as
close as possible without connecting, breathing heavily in shared astonishment, each unwilling to be the first to
shatter the moment and bring hard reality back to crash around them.
I missed you. The words ripped through Jasper’s soul. He’d missed her mouth, her tits, her pussy, her
deep brown eyes, the scar on her chin, her sharp tongue, and her ridiculous sense of humor. He missed how she
held him and how she took him and how she got him better than anyone, even Twist. He’d hear a pun and think to
text it to her knowing she’d never met one she didn’t like, only to painfully remember he’d blocked her number.
He’d go to a bar and expect to see Quinn behind it, so he stopped going out except when called to untangled a
teammate, and that immediately put Maverick back in his mind, and fucking hell, he did not need that right now.
She’d turned his world effervescent so that it fizzed with joy and laughter, like one of her drinks,
showered him with wild beauty and then wrenched it all away to leave him feeling utterly abandoned, something
he hadn’t experienced since his adoptive parents returned him to foster care only to keep his two younger
brothers as their own.
I missed you.
But Jasper knew better than to say that to Quinn. And that hole she’d left behind that had ached in his chest
for twelve long months rang hollow with renewed loss.
“You still kiss like a wet dream,” he muttered instead.
It was a mistake. Quinn immediately went stiff with insult and tried to yank free of him, but she’d never
been a match for his strength—though always more than a match with her tongue—and he braced to get the edge
of it and not in the way he wanted.
Instead, when his arms locked her in place, a deeply wounded look seeped into her dark brown eyes, eyes
that yet shimmered from their kiss. It pierced past betrayal and abandonment to stab Jasper right in his aching
heart. “You’re a son of a bitch, you know,” she whispered.
That was truer than she could realize. His hands cupped her jaw. I missed you. “What trouble are you in,
Quinn?” he asked again. His thumbs brushed her racing pulse, coaxing her to capitulation.
Not that it made a dent in his determined wife. She blinked, erasing any hint of that rare vulnerability, and
said, “Honestly, it’s none of your business,” and Jasper was done.
Enough fucking around. His fingers dug a bit deeper into her skin, enough that her mouth popped open
with an invitation he’d bet she didn’t realize was on offer. “Everything about you is my business, and you’re
gonna stay my business until one of us stops breathing no matter what goddamn name you’re wearing when we
do.”

Sexy Sunday Snippet: Stolen in Love by G.G. Andrew

9 Apr

by G.G. Andrew

Stolen in LoveThe next in my contemporary romance series Love & Lawbreakers will be out May 13th. Called Stolen in Love, it’s a second-chance romance between a single dad cop and a recovering kleptomaniac wild girl.

If you dig second-chance romance or reading love stories that involve people like thieves and artists, here’s a sneak peek of what I’ve been working on. This is a scene near the beginning of the book where Officer Scott Culpepper has his neighbor’s black sheep of a daughter, Kim, watch his daughter while he’s on duty. When he comes home, he finds her asleep with his little girl on the couch. After he puts his daughter to bed, this is what happens…

***

His mouth dry, he was having trouble forming words, and after an awkward pause, she stood.

“Well, thanks for everything,” she said.

He uncrossed his arms, surprise at her leaving so quickly mobilizing his mouth. “Thank you. Lily really seems to like you. I’ve never seen her fall asleep with someone else before, besides me.”

“Oh?” She was pleased. “Well, I like her.” There was something sad in her voice, but before he could fathom its source, she was reaching the front door.

“Wait.” He walked until he stood beside her. The doorknob was already in her hand.

Kim studied him expectantly.

He didn’t know why he’d told her to wait, exactly. There was something he’d wanted to say, but it’d slipped his mind at the sight of her. It probably wasn’t important. There wasn’t anything to say at this late hour, not with Lily fast asleep and the knowledge that he should be headed in that direction, too. But something in him didn’t want this to be it, didn’t want this woman to be leaving. In the long moments where he furiously tried to think of something to say, her large brown eyes stared at him, her pretty pink lips pointed upward. They were like two ripe petals—or, something, he couldn’t figure out what—and they drew his eyes down and his body like a magnet and she was so sleepy and pretty, and before he knew it, he’d touched his lips to hers. Lightly, just once, like he’d only meant to kiss her goodnight.

In response, Kim’s eyes widened. She was wide awake now, and she reached up and drew his head to hers and deepened the kiss.

As her eyes fluttered closed again and her lips parted underneath his, he drew in a quick breath at the sensations that ripped through him. The obscene softness of her lips, the heat of her mouth. The sudden urgency that gripped him and made him tug her forward by the waist to press against him, his free hand bracing against the door to hold them both upright. Her tongue darted in his mouth, feverish and wicked. It was just a kiss, but dammit if he didn’t want it all then, everything, her pink mouth and crimped hair and curves and her naked on his couch with his kid sleeping down the hall.

He shouldn’t have found out what he’d been missing.

She was the first to break the kiss, confirming his suspicions that she was stronger and also that she wasn’t as overcome. “You shouldn’t have done that,” she whispered against his mouth, but he could tell she was smiling.

He remembered what he’d meant to say before. “I’ll watch you leave,” he said, out of breath and with a telltale tightening in his pants. “I’ll keep an eye on you until I know you’re back at your parents’ with the door locked behind you.”

She stepped away, and the temperature dropped as she removed her heat.

“You’re a good guy,” she said softly. “You deserve a good woman.” She opened the door and left out into the night.

His hands shaking, he pushed the door open wider and watched her go, his eyes scanning both of their yards. His cop instincts hadn’t yet left him. Good. Even if he’d just been about to ask Kim Xavier to stay the night, at least he had a brain cell or two jingling around in there.

She walked across the street and across the dark expanse of her parents’ lawn and entered a side door, turning to give a little wave before she disappeared into the house. He raised a hand in farewell, but waited an extra beat to make sure that, true to his word, the door was safely locked behind her.

Then he shut his own door and leaned his back against it, exhaling.

Dammit. He didn’t want a responsible, suitable woman without a criminal record. He didn’t want someone who’d make a stable girlfriend, someone he could invite to neighborhood potlucks or to come around the station and meet the guys.

He only wanted Kim Xavier.

***

Stolen in Love is available for preorder on iBooks and Kobo for only .99, and you can add it to Goodreads. Follow me on Amazon to be one of the first to learn when it’s available for Kindle!

Erotic romance excerpt from The Discipline by Jade A. Waters

19 Mar

by Jade A. Waters

Today’s excerpt is from BDSM erotic romance The Discipline by Jade A. Waters, the second in her Lessons in Control series from Carina Press, following The Assignment. Also be sure to check out our Lady Smut Q&A with Jade.

Here’s the official blurb for The Discipline:

How far would you go to fulfill a fantasy?

Maya Clery has taken risks before. Her relationship with Dean Sova started out as a risk—a series of sexual assignments, each hotter, wilder, more intense than the last. Exploring her submissive side with a powerful, trustworthy Dominant has been everything she hoped for, everything she needed.  

Dean pushes Maya to her limits—it’s one of the things she loves most about him. But as they push the boundaries outside their sex life, meeting friends and family members, Maya realizes there’s still much she doesn’t know about the man with whom she’s sharing her bed.

And when a fantasy simmering between them becomes their latest challenge, past secrets begin to reveal weaknesses in their relationship that neither is ready to face.

Excerpt from The Discipline by Jade A. Waters:

A chill blared through me having left the bathwater. It was almost as sharp as the curiosity tripping from my head to my toes. I stepped out and padded across the carpet to the bed, where I spun to face Dean. I made a show of leisurely slipping the towel off my body and tossing it to the floor, but he stayed unfazed and motionless in the water.

Fine, tough guy.

But who was I kidding?

I loved this.

Eager for the game to commence, I lay back on the bed, my toes barely touching the floor and an uncanny ripple of excitement shooting through my limbs. At Dean’s rise from the tub, I saw how hard he’d grown. The bulbous head of his cock stuck out from his pelvis, those beautiful dark veins running from root to tip. He dried off, the view forming a heavy cloud in my lungs, and I lifted my hands to my stomach to spread them over my goose bumped flesh.

How the hell had the mere act of walking over here and seeing him watch me get me this aroused?

Dean discarded his towel. He bent to dig his fingers into the pile of my robe on the floor, and I tried to make out what he was doing. It wasn’t until he stood upright and held the tie in his hand that I clenched my knees together. He curled the fabric around both his palms and walked in my direction at an excruciating pace, then stood against my knees, naked and hard before me. He smelled of the lavender salt we’d sprinkled in the tub, and him. Sexy, masculine him.

“Give me your hands,” he said.

I stretched them out. Dean wound the fabric around my wrists, close to my skin but not too tight. My groin flexed at the scent of his body and the swell of his cock not quite reaching my needy flesh. 

After he tied a loose knot, he gave my wrists a shove to indicate I should lay them above my head. “Spread your legs.”

I did. Dean stared down at my sex, his eyes glazed. His mouth formed that O I adored, and I couldn’t believe how much I was shaking, how fucking riled I’d gotten before he started stroking my slit. I could hear how wet I was in the gentle slicks of his finger. “Oh, fuck.”

“You’re so excited. Wetter than I imagined. I love how our conversation has done this to you.” 

I closed my eyes at the slide of his fingers inside my entrance, pulsing in and out to tease the rim of my pussy. Once I rocked my hips up for more, Dean withdrew his touch, resting one hand above each of my knees.

My eyelids popped open and I pouted, tortured by his naked body between my legs and his faint touch across my thighs.

“Are you ready to hear your test?” That devil of a grin played on his face when he pitched forward to lick one of my nipples, and every fiber of my being screamed for satisfaction.

“Yes. Please.”

“If we’re going to live that fantasy,” Dean said, inching one finger along the inside of my thigh in a dare, “then we’ll need it to be perfect. Safe. I need you to tell me what you want from it. How you want it to happen. What you want to happen.” His finger returned to my cunt, but his stroke was there and gone before he held back. “And if you tell me well, I’ll touch you more.”

Oh, yes.

I tongued my lip. “Why are you such a tease?”

Dean slipped his finger inside enough to make me whimper, then he took it away. “Because you crave it.” He sucked his finger into his mouth, and I groaned before he dropped it back to my thigh with a smack. I gasped and jerked on the bed. “Start talking, sexy.”

“Okay,” I said. He didn’t move, the outside of his thighs against the inside of mine, his cock fucking hard and tempting. I was going to lose my mind. “We start in a room after we’ve made sure all are on board.” To this, Dean curved both hands around my thighs and held them in place. My pulse hammered as I tried to envision how it might go. I rolled my head against my arm, keeping my wrists high above my head. “But we’ll be at a hotel, because it has to be neutral ground.”

Dean slid his hands higher and stopped. “What are you wearing?”

“Something sexy. Dressy. We both are.”

Dean shifted higher. “I know you like dressing up. Feeling sexy, though you always are.” He shifted higher still, his fingers almost reaching the creases between my sex and my thighs. “But get to the good parts.”

I giggled. “Fine. You’ll overwhelm me. He’ll overwhelm me.”

“That’s all you have to say?” He took another swat of my thigh. “No, no. Be explicit.”

I shivered as his thumbs resumed their sway across my skin. “You’ll strip me down for him. I’m yours, but you’re letting him in…” The grip of Dean’s hands crept up. “I’m not sure of everything that will happen.” Dean shook his head, dissatisfied and smacking the inside of my other thigh. My eyelids fluttered and I spoke swiftly. “There will be kissing. Touching.”

“And? What do you really desire with us? You’ll have two men. What is it about the idea that truly revs you up? How do you want us to overpower you?” He ticked his fingers back and forth, his use of my word making me blush. When Dean crouched to the floor and breathed hot air over my sex, I jumped. “What’s in that head of yours that’s got you glistening right now? Because you are…” He shoved my legs farther apart and leaned closer until I gasped.

Opening my mouth, I tasted the words, and when I spoke, I nearly purred. “I want to kiss him while you watch. But while you touch me.” Speaking it amplified the crash of my pulse and shot a bolt of arousal out to my toes. The image alone had me wet, but saying it to the promise of Dean’s fingers? Yes.

“There we go,” he said, strumming me with his fingers, parting my pussy lips with his thumbs. I moaned, and he tongued my hole for one enticing moment. “You taste delicious. Keep talking, naughty girl.”  

The Discipline is available for purchase for KindleNookGoogle PlayiBooks and Kobo.

Bikers for Christmas

25 Dec

by Kiersten Hallie Krum

Wouldn’t *that* be something to find under your tree on Christmas morning? Alas, there was no bearded, growly, alpha yet somehow feminist-supportive, muscled, steaming hot biker stud awaiting me this Christmas morn. (Next year, Santa!)

Thank God for biker romance! Let me help you end your holiday of joyous over-eating and being nice to people you only see a few times a year with a taste of Megan Crane’s upcoming biker romance Devil’s Mark.

Look! A blurb!

Holly Chambless is tired of being the squeaky clean daughter of Lagrange’s holier-than-thou mayor. When her father is charged with corruption, she realizes that her whole life’s been a lie. Now’s her chance to do all the things she never dared, like scoring a job at a bar where reputations go to die, or reconnecting with the biker who sparked a secret hunger in her all those years ago. Holly isn’t a wide-eyed girl anymore—and this time she wants a taste of what has always been denied.

Killian “Uptown” Chenier has no time for stuck-up princesses. He likes fast bikes and wild sex. Sure, he remembers Holly. He sent her running with a wicked smile and a lesson about prying eyes. And sure, she’s grown up smoking-hot, with a body he’d like to personally desecrate. But Devil’s Keepers business is real and intense. Her daddy stole from the club, leaving his pretty blonde daughter a walking target. And when Uptown takes aim at what he wants, he never misses.

You can start your new year in the Lagrange bayou with the Devil’s Keepers motorcycle club when Devil’s Mark releases on January 3rd. Meanwhile, get started with this teasing excerpt and be sure to check out the first book in the series, Devil’s Honor, reviewed earlier this year here on Lady Smut.

Click on image to preorder!

Click on image to preorder!

Hope you had a happy and healthy Christmas day and start of Chanukkah celebrations! Be sure to check back with Lady Smut for a wild and sexy 2017!

“Here’s how this works,” Uptown said, very calmly, but being this close to him again made her a little bit dizzy.  She could see the way his dark chocolate eyes gleamed.  It did not exactly make her think of candy.  “You’re under my protection.  That’s what you tell anyone who comes at you or tries to cop a feel, okay?”

Holly bristled.  “I don’t need to be protected.”

“Baby, please.  They’ll eat you alive.”

“Well, so what if they do?” she demanded, glaring at him, that odd thing in her stomach that shouldn’t have been shame—because what did it matter what a biker thought of her—pulling into a taut, hard knot.  “What do you care?  And besides, Katelyn seems perfectly happy being consumed by the biker world.”

“You don’t want to be Katelyn.”

“I love Katelyn,” Holly snapped, because weirdness between them didn’t mean Holly should be disloyal.  “She’s been my best friend since we shared a coloring book in kindergarten.”

“This isn’t fucking kindergarten, babe.  Christ.”

“I’m sure that whatever makes Katelyn happy is good enough for me.”  She might have been talking from between her teeth, but she meant it.

“You know how your girl got her job here?” Uptown reached over then and took the end of her ponytail in his fist, tugging gently on it.  It should have been annoying, like a mosquito buzzing around her.  It wasn’t.  Instead, she could feel that faint pulling sensation… everywhere. “She blew Bart, right here in this office.  That was her warm up, but you know, nothing new for her since she’d been hanging around the clubhouse for a while.  Then she banged a couple of brothers on the couch to show her appreciation for being considered.  But we doubted her commitment because she always seemed more about the party than getting any work done, so the next night she came back and blew a line of brothers, then let Bart fuck her in the ass over the desk while anyone who wanted to watch hung out.  She started later that night.  Big tips all around.”  His head tilted to one side and she couldn’t have described that gleam in his gaze if her life had depended on it.  But she could feel it like a punch to her belly.  “That about what you had in mind tonight?  Because I should tell you, we already knew and liked Katelyn.  That was why we kept it mellow.  Some of the other girls who work here had a lot more to prove when they came in.”

Holly thought it was lucky that she couldn’t really process a single thing he’d said.  Because it was too much.  She remembered hunching over that coloring book with Katelyn when they were little, sharing their crayons even though they’d both wanted the green.  She remembered all their sleepovers over the years, lying huddled up in the same bed whispering secrets and dreams into the dark.  She didn’t want to think about her friend dispensing blow jobs or anything else.  Because if she did, she might have to pay attention to the things her body was doing, as if it was imagining her in all the positions Uptown had described so nonchalantly.  She felt… weird.  But she couldn’t let herself think about that.

“I thought Katelyn belonged to the club,” she said instead.

“Sure,” Uptown agreed, lazily.  Or maybe he was just amused at how little Holly knew about his world and Katelyn’s place in it, despite how close she’d claimed she and Katelyn were.  Worse, she was sure he could see exactly how red her cheeks were.  She could feel the crisp heat in them and had to force herself not to put her hands there and make it worse.  “She takes care of us, we take care of her.”

“And I notice that you left yourself out of that story.”  She ignored the flare of heat in her cheeks, particularly when his gaze seemed to sharpen.  “Is that a sudden fit of modesty?”

He tugged on the end of her ponytail, making her chin rise against her will.  But when he eased off the pressure, she didn’t lower it.

“Nothing modest about me.  You want to hear who I fuck and how?  I’m not shy, princess.  But I think you are.”

1st-3-covers-dkmc

%d bloggers like this: