Tag Archives: Sexy Sunday Snippet

Sexy Sunday Snippet: The Arrows of the Heart

4 Nov

Here’s a sexy snippet to steam up your Sunday!

Fantasy romance, The Arrows of The Heart, by Jeffe Kennedy is part of the Uncharted Realms series.

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Blurb:

As the Twelve Kingdoms and their allies are drawn toward war, a princess cast aside must discover a purpose she never dreamed of…

Karyn af Hardie behaved like a proper Dasnarian wife. She acquiesced, she accepted, she submitted. Until her husband gave her a choice: their loveless, unconsummated royal marriage—or her freedom. Karyn chose freedom. But with nowhere to run except into the arms of Dasnaria’s enemies, she wonders if she’s made a mistake. She wants love, security, a family. She can’t imagine finding any of it among the mercurial Tala.

Worst of all is Zyr. The uninhibited shapeshifter is everywhere she looks. He’s magnetic, relentless, teasing and tempting as if she’s free to take her pleasure where she wishes. As if there isn’t a war rising before them, against a vile and demanding force far stronger than they. But with Karyn’s loyalty far from certain, Zyr offers her only chance to aid the defense—a dangerous gambit to seek out a land not seen in centuries, using clues no one can decipher. Together, they’ll have every opportunity to fail—and one chance to steal something truly precious…

Excerpt:

“What in Moranu is wrong with you?” Zyr had gone back to impatient, and I realized he’d been talking to me. He’d even set down the wooden chest and taken me by the shoulders. “Talk to me—are you ill?”

“Lieutenant Marskal left,” I managed to reply, the command spurring me to answer.

“Yes, that’s what I said.” Zyr sounded puzzled, ducking his head to try to look into my face. “Explain why that has you looking like you’ll faint.”

I had to catch my breath, my lungs too tight to draw air. “He… didn’t take me… along and now… I’m all alone… in this place…and I’ll starve… and die!” I finished on a wail that robbed me of the last of my breath and would’ve had me melting in embarrassed horror if I didn’t feel like I might fall into a puddle of faint instead.

Zyr cursed in his language, which would have sounded pretty if he weren’t so annoyed. He backed me up to the balustrade and made me sit, forcing my head down almost to the ground. “Deep breaths. Slow and even.” He spoke slowly and gently, rubbing a hand down my back. Far too familiar a touch, but it felt good and I could hardly throw him off. “That’s it, gréine. Calm and easy. Breathe.”

And I found I could. Being upside-down made my head feel funny, but I no longer felt like I’d fall the dizzying drop to the beach.

“You’re not all alone,” Zyr said, spacing out his words as if talking to a child. Which, I supposed was fair, as I was acting like one. “Only Zynda and Marskal left, on a private, stupidly heroic mission. The rest of the Hawks are still here, and you’ll keep training with them. My cousin Ursula, her royal high whatever, is sending more Hawks and troops here to Annfwn, to reinforce defenses in case there are more Deyrr attacks—remember? No one is going to let you starve. All right?”

I nodded.

“An actual verbal reply would be helpful, so I know you’re with me.” A hint of his usual teasing in there, but he still sounded gentle. Soothing. Totally unlike the Zyr I knew.

“All right,” I answered.

“Better now?”

“Yes.”

“Can you sit up?” He helped me straighten, and I caught a glimpse of his concerned expression before I averted my gaze. “Also, you wouldn’t starve anyway. Watch this.”

I did as he told me, watching as he reached up a long arm to an overhanging tree limb, plucked a fruit and handed it to me. Bemused, I held it, the smooth globe cool from the night, the sweet scent almost like flowers.

“No one starves here.” Zyr tapped the fruit, then put a finger under my chin, lifting my face so that keeping my eyes averted became more difficult. “Your cheeks are all pink now,” he noted.

“From being upside down,” I pointed out, more tartly than I would’ve if I’d been feeling fully myself. Your impulsive tongue will get you in trouble someday. My mother’s words echoed in my mind as if she stood right there. By now she would’ve heard that my impulsive tongue had made me ask His Imperial Majesty, the Emperor of Dasnaria for an annulment of my marriage with Kral. She likely believed me dead. Just as well, as I’d never see any of my family again.

Zyr broke into my mournful thoughts, his fingertips feathering over my cheek, as if testing the color, sending a shivery sensation through me I didn’t know how to handle. “Your skin is so pale and clear all the blood shows through.”

“That’s disgusting!” I yanked away from his touch, shocked by his words and mortified that I’d let a strange man touch me. Even if it had felt nice for a moment. And not lonely.

“How is that disgusting?” he asked, laughing and not caring at all. “People have blood in them and have skin to hold it in. This is true of animals, too. The Tala understand this—don’t Dasnarians?”

“Yes, but we don’t discuss such things in public.” I smoothed my braid, refusing to look at him, no matter his antics. “It’s not an appropriate topic for mixed company.”

“Mixed, as in Dasnarians and Tala?” His tone held plenty of mischief.

“Mixed as in men and women.”

“So, are only conversations about blood not allowed, or all bodily fluids?”

I nearly choked, so I stood, straightening my skirts.

“I guess that’s all bodily fluids,” Zyr observed, uncoiling to his feet with that odd animal grace. “You come from a very strange people.”

“At least my people keep one body,” I replied, annoyed enough to be outright rude.

“There, you sound better now. Your usual prim and offended self.” He retrieved the wooden box and started walking, so I had to go along. “And you’re blushing even more now, by the way. Is that what bothers you about me—that I’m a shapeshifter?”

“It doesn’t bother me.” I looked out over the sea, bluer now with the rising sun that hadn’t yet tipped over the rim of the towering cliff above. “Zynda is a shapeshifter and I like her.”

“Then you don’t like me personally.”

“I don’t have an opinion about you one way or the other.” I kept my tone as neutral as I could manage. This man made it impossible to be polite.

“But you won’t consider taking me as a lover,” he replied with that easy openness of his people.

I pressed my lips together, mortified to be in this conversation, my face burning hot.

“I’m an excellent lover,” Zyr continued, uncaring of the group of Tala girls who passed us carrying baskets. They giggled, several of them calling out what sounded like agreement. Zyr replied in their language, obviously flirting with them.

I considered simply leaping over the balustrade and ending this. Instead, I quickened my pace, striding ahead while he dallied. Perhaps he’d forget about me and run after them.

But no, he immediately caught up. “I’m not bragging,” he insisted, ducking his head to catch my eye. “Well, I’m bragging a little, but I can back it up. You’d enjoy yourself in my bed.”

I stopped so fast he went a step past me, before whipping around. That was uncanny, too. These shapeshifters moved so fast they almost blurred, back in front of you before you realized they’d changed position. “Your bed?” I squeaked out, astonished and horrified enough to look him directly in his eyes.

They widened, searching my face, his expression abruptly serious. “Why do you say it that way—is that an insult?”

No. No, it couldn’t mean the same thing in Common Tongue. “It’s nothing.”

“I don’t think so. We must talk about this,” he said.

“Nooo.” I shook my head emphatically, drawing out the word so he’d hear it. “We will not discuss this. In fact, this whole conversation is over. I never should have talked with you in the first place. I’m going for my breakfast now.”

Head held high with all the dignity of the Hardie family, I walked on.

The Arrows of the Heart is out now! Get your copy!

~~~~~~

Jeffe Kennedy is an award-winning author whose works include novels, non-fiction, poetry, and short fiction. She has been a Ucross Foundation Fellow, received the Wyoming Arts Council Fellowship for Poetry, and was awarded a Frank Nelson Doubleday Memorial Award.

Sexy Sunday Snippet with Bonus Interview from Devon McCormack

25 Mar

Happy Sunday Lady Smutters. This week we’re here to please you with Kris Michaels’ guest post–an interview with Devon McCormack and a sexy snippet from his book, Jesse, from his BFF: Best Friend’s Father Series.

KRIS MICHAELS:  Readers, it is my pleasure to introduce Devon McCormack! He is one of the authors I stalk. His books are H.O.T., and the stories carry that delicious hotness through a myriad of situations that hook you until the very last page. If you haven’t read his work, do yourself a favor and hop onto Amazon and pick up one of his stories. You will not regret it! Enough fangirling! To the interview!

Hi, Devon! Thank you for agreeing to be interviewed for Lady Smut’s blog. I have some questions listed. As you know, or I assume you know, I’m a huge fan of your work.

DEVON MCCORMACK: Thank you so much! I’m thrilled to be on the blog today!

KRIS MICHAELS: Please, tell us a little something about you.

DEVON MCCORMACK: Oh, Jesus, where to begin? I’m thirty in Grindr years, but that’s all I’m saying there. I live in Atlanta, Georgia with my partner, who I affectionately dub as BF, and my little pooch, Brody. I’m an author, but the only thing my partner thinks I’m really writing is FB posts and comments all day long. LOL

KRIS MICHAELS: When was it that the thought struck you, ‘You know, I want to be a writer?’

DEVON MCCORMACK: I couldn’t tell you exactly when. I was writing as a kid, and I remember writing this really short story…I was probably like eight or nine…and I was like, “I need to get this published.” Of course, easier said than done. So I’ve been getting rejection slips from agents and publishers since way back then. And obviously, none of that was enough to discourage me.

KRIS MICHAELS: Do you write full time? What is your work schedule like when you’re writing?

DEVON MCCORMACK: I am on my computer full-time, but I wish I could say that I was writing that much. 😉

As for my schedule, I typically wake up around 4-5AM, depending on how lazy I’m feeling. I might get up at like 5:30AM if I’m feeling sluggish. I’ll write from then to, say, 10AM. Then I have a long break until I hit the gym around 2PM. After that, I’ll write on until maybe 6 or 7PM. I take breaks, but I have a timer that I use to clock a certain number of hours. This is for my own solo work. If I have a collab going on at the same time with Riley Hart, then I have to do that during my day at some point as well.

KRIS MICHAELS: How long does it take you to write a book?

DEVON MCCORMACK: However long it takes. It varies, but I word-vomit the first draft and then go back and clean up the mess through extensive revisions, so not terribly long. I won’t let anything go beyond three months, though. If a book starts getting that difficult, it just needs to be tossed in the trash. Of course, if I felt like I was being productive and the project was going well but just taking a bit longer, I would pursue it. However, for me, a book usually doesn’t stretch out that long. I get very focused and just want to get to the end of the project as quickly as I can.

KRIS MICHAELS: When did you write your first book? What book was it? What did you learn writing it?

DEVON MCCORMACK: This is always an interesting question. I can never tell if people mean my first book ever or my first published book. If we’re going with that first novel, I was fifteen years old. It was this middle grade fantasy about a kid who enters this alternate world where he goes on all sorts of magical adventures, which was a ton of fun to write. I think the most important thing it taught me was that I could write a book from start to finish. It showed me that it just required a certain amount of discipline. Obviously I learned a lot of other things about creating characters, conveying information to a reader, and writing dialogue, but just knowing that I could get the damn thing done was a good first step.

After that, I have a drawer full of books that will never see the light of day. But my first published book I wrote back in 2012-2013. It was called Clipped, and it was just this crazy paranormal adventure where I did pretty much whatever I wanted. That taught me that sometimes I just need to say, “Fuck it,” and do my own thing, which is what I typically do when I’m writing. I can stress about people hating that stuff later on.

KRIS MICHAELS: What drew you to writing romance?

DEVON MCCORMACK: I’d always been a big romance reader, so I think it came very naturally. I worked at. Borders bookstore in college, and I would sneak Ellora’s Cave titles into the breakroom because those were just so delicious. They made me feel so naughty and deviant…and at the time, those covers were fucking wild.

But when I started writing, I was actually working on more erotic titles…with some young adult projects as well…go figure. I think it was like 2015 when I started to really get into romance. Mostly, that was because I had some personal things going on that made me want some HEAs in my life. It was such a wonderful experience, and I fell in love with how much I could delve into my characters and explore their relationships. People interest me, and romance is the perfect platform for analyzing the human condition…our insecurities, fears, weaknesses, values, strengths, and proclivities. Plus, I love sex in books, and I can write as much as I want in romance. 😉

KRIS MICHAELS: Where do you get your ideas for your books?

DEVON MCCORMACK: Usually, I’ll be thinking on some random thing and I’ll be like, “Ooh, that interests me!” Today, even while writing this, I got an idea for something that I can’t start on right at this moment, but just sort of reflecting on a situation in my life, this idea for these two guys came to me and I thought, “I can do something with this!”

KRIS MICHAELS: What was one of the most surprising things you learned in creating your books?

DEVON MCCORMACK: The threads that run through most, if not all, of them. They show what I’m interested in exploring and learning more about. For instance, mental illness is something I really like to write about. It’s something I personally enjoy researching, so it makes sense that it comes up often, but I don’t think I would have thought much about it if I hadn’t written enough books to be able to look back and notice that thread running through a lot of them.

And then there are little things. I’ll notice them in two or three books, and I’ll think, “Weird that there are these similarities between these projects. I wonder what that says about me?”

KRIS MICHAELS: What do you think makes a good story?

DEVON MCCORMACK: Something that keeps me, as a reader, engaged. I don’t know, though. A lot of that is about tastes. A story that engages me is awful to another reader, and a book someone else adores will be meh to me. I just want something that keeps me turning the pages.

KRIS MICHAELS: What do you like to do when you’re not writing?

DEVON MCCORMACK: And when is this non-writing time happening? LOL I’m probably hitting the gym or going for a jog, because gotta get that shit in! (And I believe that about other areas of my life, too, but let’s not be dirty 😉 ). I don’t know…I like going out with friends or just binge-watching new music videos on Youtube. Nothing very exciting.

KRIS MICHAELS: How many books have you written?

DEVON MCCORMACK: Just enough. 😉

KRIS MICHAELS: In your writing career, what has been your biggest accomplishment?

DEVON MCCORMACK: I self-published my first novel, Clipped, and I would say taking that risk…that willingness to just go for it, is probably the moment I’m most proud of. I was obsessed with traditional publishing back then. I submitted every book to agents and publishers…to no avail. And to be willing to put myself out there, without the sanction of someone else saying what I’d created was good, that took a lot of pushing past mental demons. It wasn’t a particularly easy road after that, but I pushed on and I just kept facing the obstacles as they presented themselves, and I’m thrilled that I did.

KRIS MICHAELS: Have you ever had a moment where you sat back and looked at your accomplishments and felt content with where you are and what you are doing? If so, what was that moment?

DEVON MCCORMACK: I’m not a particularly content person, and I always feel like I’m moving on to the next thing before I have a chance to enjoy the thing that came before it. I’ve certainly had moments where I appreciated what was happening, but content…IDK…that feels like something I’ve never really felt about anything in my life. Occasionally, I might have three minutes where I’m in the middle of a particularly juicy sex scene, and I’ll stop and have this big smile on my face and think, “Damn, I’m lucky.” But that’s about it. Hahahaha.

~~~~~

Book blurb:

A beach vacay with my best bud since college seems like the perfect opportunity to relax, catch some rays, and enjoy a couple of nights on the town. When I find a girl who’s eager to mess around with me, I figure I’ve got it made.

Then I meet the intense, hot-as-hell, tattooed Eric Westright, who wrecks my world…in the best possible way.

He awakens something within me-something that’s always been here, but that’s never pulled so powerfully…not until I looked into those solemn blue eyes and felt the red-hot spark of his touch.

There’s something about this chemistry that’s so intoxicating, and the more I get to know him, the harder it becomes for me to resist these impulses that overtake me-that leave me wanting him to show me what it feels like to have a man inside me.

I know he’s fighting too. It’s so wrong, but every kiss, every caress, every stroke feels so right. We shouldn’t act on these urges, but we can’t help ourselves.

First he claims my body, then he claims my heart.

And before I know it, I’m in too deep with my best friend’s father…

*BFF is a steamy romance, but one of the main characters has a painful past that may act as a trigger for some people. Readers are invited to check out the complete trigger warning on the copyright page, which can be viewed by clicking on the “Look Inside” preview or by downloading the sample. These triggers contain spoilers for the novel.

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Book excerpt:

I glance myself over in the floor-length mirror, inspecting my profile to see how I look in the swimming trunks I’m wearing. I face forward, flexing my six-pack, appreciating the effort I made to lose a couple of pounds before our Puerto Vallarta vacation. It’s nice seeing the definition in my torso as well as some good bulk in my chest and biceps.

I run my hand through my dark-brown hair and then I hear, “Ooh, look who’s feeling conceited in that suit.”

Ty steps out of the changing room in a polka-dotted Speedo, surely noticing that I’m basically checking myself out in the mirror, something he’s done quite a few times since we got to the swimsuit designer’s boutique. We’ve been trying on different cuts and designs for close to half an hour, helping the designer, Julio, get an idea of the type of suit we want.

It’s kind of weird getting a designer swimsuit with Ty. If it wasn’t for him, I wouldn’t have half the clothes hanging in my closet, mainly because I’m not as interested in clothes shopping as he is.

“Whatever,” I say.

Ty comes up behind me and slaps my ass. “Looking good, looking good,” he teases.

I roll my eyes. “It’s kind of girly,” I say, assessing the bright fuchsia suit.

“The girlier you wear, the more masculine you look,” Ty explains. “Trust me, it’s a thing.”

“That’s ridiculous,” I say as he inspects his ass in the Speedo he has on. The sunlight entering through the bay window shimmers off Ty’s sandy-blond hair, which matches the bit of scruff he’s grown since we’ve been on vacation. With killer abs he’s never had an issue maintaining with a sit-up here or there, I don’t deny he looks hot in the suit.

“That’s always been a thing,” he insists. “If you wear something that looks very feminine, then the odds are people are going to think you must be super masculine to be trying to pull it off.”

“Or assume I want a dick in my mouth,” I add.

Not that it would be entirely untrue or that I haven’t felt that way about guys in my life, but I don’t need to wear a fucking banner to let the world know I get a little confused about all that from time to time.

“He might have a point there,” Julio says with a smile as he folds his arms. He stands off to the side, watching us try on the suits, seeming to enjoy the show.

Ty shakes his head. “Whatever. Julio, I’m not loving this. What else you got?”

Here we go…

We try on a few more before we each buy one. Then we head back to Ty’s dad’s condo.

It’s a few miles from Julio’s swimsuit boutique, so we take a cab. As we get in, Ty’s phone pings, and he checks it.

“It’s Mandy,” he says, a sparkle in his eyes.

Last night, we ran into some college-age kids who are here for a couple of weeks, same as us. They were a fun group to get hammered with. Ty hit on this girl named Mandy while I chatted up her friend Dana.

“Oh really?” I ask. “And what does Mandy want?”

“She and her friends are having a party tonight at the house they’re renting.”

“I’m game.”

“You’re game?” he asks. “What the fuck do you mean you’re game? You can’t tell me you don’t want to get all up on Dana. I saw the way you were hitting on her.”

“She was nice, but I think you were a little more into Mandy than I was into Dana.”

He rolls his eyes. “Seriously. You need to relax and get some.”

“I’m not looking for that. I just finished things with Whitney, so the last thing I need right now is to be chasing girls around.”

“That’s definitely not the last thing you need.”

I chuckle. “Okay, I get what you mean, but, Ty, I’m enjoying being single.”

“The whole point of being single is that you get to have sex with whoever you want.”

“I don’t want to hook up,” I tell Ty.

“Come on. It’ll be like our Georgia Tech days.”

“Even back then, I wasn’t having sex like you were. I was going on dates. You remember what those are? Like actually getting to know girls? The whole pickup scene isn’t my thing.”

“You are too hot for that.”

“It’s called making a connection. Actually giving a shit about a person.”

“Whatever. Sounds boring to me.” Although, I can tell by the expression on his face that he’s just giving me a hard time. “But promise me you’ll get some action while you’re here. I don’t want to believe you wasted AMEX points and came all the way here from Atlanta just so you can get skin cancer and maybe a bacterial infection from drinking the water.”

I laugh. “Shut the fuck up.”

When we get back to his dad’s condo, as we walk through the front door, I’m blown away by the designer furnishings, decor, and artwork. Every time we step in, I’m reminded suddenly I’m in a rich person’s place.

On the other side of the living area, two sliding glass doors lead onto a balcony overlooking the bay. It’s the sort of place I would never be able to have access to if it wasn’t for Ty and his bougie life because of his family.

Not that I do badly with my job, but that’s not how I grew up—I was bouncing around from foster family to foster family, none of whom had a place even comparable to this. And it’s definitely not like my apartment now, so it’s a stark change from what I’ve always been used to.

“That’s weird,” Ty says. “I thought we hit the lights before we left.”

I’m not sure if he’s right, but as we look around, I hear a sound coming from inside one of the guest bedrooms.

“Eric, that you?” Ty asks.

We approach the bedroom, and I hear the sound of running water, which stops abruptly. A moment passes before someone comes around the corner from the bathroom.

I’ve never met Ty’s dad before. They didn’t even meet until Ty was sixteen, and from what Ty’s told me, their relationship isn’t the best. In fact, I think the only reason his dad lets him hang here is to make up for how he wasn’t there for him when he was a kid.

The guy looks like he’s in his early forties. He has a cut body, decorated with a dark, navy-colored sleeve tat that runs up his arm and across his left pec. The design is elaborate, though I can’t make out what it’s of. Jet-black hair, a stark contrast to Ty’s sandy-blond locks, falls across his forehead as it drips with water, which runs down his face, through a half an inch or so of neatly-groomed scruff that covers his sharp jawline.

He wraps a towel around his waist as he heads toward us, and for a moment—too brief a moment—I get a glimpse of his massive cock.

Holy fuck.

I can’t deny the stiffening erection in my jeans. He’s a hot man. It’s rare that I meet a guy I get the hots for, but he’s definitely one who gets me going, and I feel guilty as fuck that it’s with my best friend’s father.

Get your copy of Jesse now at Amazon.

~~~~~

Devon McCormack spends most of his time hiding in his lair, adventuring in paranormal worlds with his island of misfit characters. A good ole Southern boy, McCormack grew up in the Georgian suburbs with his two younger brothers and an older sister. At a very young age, he spun tales the old fashioned way, lying to anyone and everyone he encountered. He claimed he was an orphan. He claimed to be a king from another planet. He claimed to have supernatural powers. He has since harnessed this penchant for tall tales by crafting whole worlds where he can live out whatever fantasy he chooses.

Devon’s body of work ranges from erotica to young adult, so readers should check the synopses of his books before purchasing so that they know what they’re getting into.

You can find Devon on Facebook and Twitter.

Sexy Sunday Snippet: Rewritten by Bronwyn Green

18 Mar

It’s Sunday…and you can depend on Lady Smut to bring your something hot. This week we have a hot bit from Bronwyn Green’s Rewritten, part of the Bound series.

About the Bound series:

What’s hotter than sexy accents, BDSM, and a bit of rope? Not Much.

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Book blurb:

Betrayed and completely exposed, she’d sworn off kink. Hell, she’d sworn off men. But she hadn’t counted on him…

One of the hottest voices in Sci-Fi, Angus Domhnull is renowned not just for his sweeping sagas, but for his stupidly gorgeous looks—and the fact that he’s taken almost five years to finish his latest novel. Now, assistant editor, Eliza Burrows, is stuck minding him, and his brooding nature is pushing every sexually submissive button she has. But even if Angus wasn’t her publisher’s star author, he’d be off-limits—after a painful betrayal, Eliza doesn’t play anymore, and she’s not about to start again with him.

Unable to deliver his long-awaited manuscript, Angus is saddled with a keeper—and her creative input—that he never asked for. Despite the resentment and animosity brewing between them, he finds himself drawn to Eliza. As he learns more about the intriguing woman behind the prickly facade, he falls for her, hard and deep.

When the attraction between them ignites, Eliza lets Angus bring her to one place she swore she’d never go again—her knees. He wants more than just her submission, but her past and the secrets she’s hidden could destroy everything…

Book excerpt:

“I don’t need a minder.”

Eliza Burrows stared at the top of the man’s dark head as she waited for him to look up and acknowledge her presence. He continued to tap away at this laptop keys as if she’d already left the room. When it seemed no further response would be forthcoming, she cleared her throat. “I’m not here as a babysitter, Mr. Domhnull.”

“Didn’t ask for you. Don’t want you,” he muttered, never looking up.

“Your publisher—”

“My publisher is a bunch of scabby bawbag sucking skivers.”

Her lips twitched, but she managed not to smile. Barely. It was nearly impossible not to be charmed by his heavy Scottish accent, not to mention amused by his word choice though. Not that he would have noticed as intent on ignoring her as he was.

“Well, that bunch of dirty testicle sucking idiots—or is it layabouts? Anyway, they hired me to do a job.”

He looked up at that, the intensity in his nearly black eyes almost stealing her breath. Or maybe it was just that he was so much more beautiful than she’d been prepared for. Sure, she’d seen his picture—who at Terra Ink Publishing hadn’t? But photographs had not done this man justice. Thick slashes of black brows sat above eyes so dark brown, it was almost impossible to discern the pupil from the iris. Long lashes framed those bright, dark eyes. Eyes that were currently assessing her. But she refused to let him see any weakness.

Instead, she smiled serenely and went on, “And that job is making sure you attend your panels on time and sober—”

He threw up his hands. “Show up guttered one time, and—”

And,” she continued, “that you finish your book.”

He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest, pinning her with that inky gaze. “So, explain to me again how you’re not a minder?”

She refused to look away.

Angus Domhnull was basically the George R. R. Martin of the science fiction world. Well, the super-hot, sci-fi version of George R. R. Martin, anyway. Angus had been working on the final book in his blockbuster series, Dark Nebula Rising, for almost five years. He’d already blown deadline after deadline, and his fans were getting pissed. But not as pissed as his editor and the powers that be at Terra Ink.

So here she was—glorified babysitter—at least, for the duration of this tour. “Technically, my current job title is assistant editor, but I’ll be acting as your author assistant,” she said stiffly.

“Soooooooooo…” He drew out the word as he shoved his hand through his unruly curls.

“So, fine. I’m your minder.” She straightened her spine. “I’ll do my best to stay out of your hair while you’re working, and to make sure you’re where you’re supposed to be when you’re supposed to be there.”

He stared at her for a moment more then, obviously dismissing her, lowered his head and began typing again.

Stifling a sigh, she opened the file folder she’d been holding and laid several sheets of paper and one of her business cards on his desk. He continued working, pointedly ignoring her.

“That’s a copy of your schedule. There will be a car waiting at seven-thirty. If you need anything, my cell number is on the back of the business card.”

Turning on her heel, she walked toward the door of their adjoining rooms.

“Ms….”

She looked back at him as he picked up the business card, clearly searching for her name.

“Burrows?”

“Yes?”

“Close the door on your way out.”

Rewritten is out now and you can get your copy from Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and iBooks.

~~~~~

Bronwyn Green is an author, blogger, and compulsive crafter. She lives in Michigan with her husband, two children and four somewhat psychotic cats. When not frantically writing, she can be found binge-watching Netflix while working on her latest craft project. Find and follow her on Facebook and Instagram.

Sexy Sunday Snippet: Switching Places by Morticia Knight

11 Mar

You are in for a treat! This Sunday we have a bit from Switching Places, Book 8 in Morticia Knight’s Kiss of Leather Series.

Kiss of Leather Series:

Kiss of Leather is the pet project of close friends and Doms, Gavin, Derek and Josh. As business partners, they envision the gay BDSM club to be the premiere destination for both demonstrations and play in not only Los Angeles, but the entire country. Designed to attract the most elite of players, Kiss of Leather is built from the ground up to their exact specifications.

Take a peek behind the gates which guard Kiss of Leather. It’s the club that promises a completely decadent experience to stimulate your senses – and that leads unsuspecting Masters and subs to their Happily Ever Afters.

SwitchingPlaces3

Book Blurb:

Tai has hit a wall in life. From all outward appearances, he’s the guy who has everything—looks, personality and money. But the modeling gigs are drying up and he still hasn’t found that special someone to call his own. The part-time work at Kiss of Leather is quickly becoming full-time to prevent the drain on his dream-business savings.

Elliot fell for the stunning Tai from almost the moment he met him. If he wasn’t so self-conscious about the weight he’s recently put on, maybe he could work up the nerve to make a move. However, not only is he a virgin who’s never done a scene before working in a BDSM club, but he’s also sure that Tai has a thing for Master Lucas. There’s no way he could ever compete with the handsome silver fox.

When Master Lucas confesses to Tai that he doesn’t only see him as a hookup and offers him a contract, there are a ton of considerations. They both realize that serious compromises would have to be made for them to have a relationship. But what if they found a third, a sub who could bottom for Tai and also do TPE with Master Lucas? Once the idea takes hold, Tai knows just the perfect boy for them both. Even better? He’s right there at Kiss of Leather, and Tai can’t wait for Elliot to turn them all into a throuple.

Book Excerpt:

Tai wishes Master Lucas wasn’t such an adamant Top, but he’s also crushing on the sweetly submissive Elliot. Could he have it both ways?

Lucas sauntered into the living room, flicking his gaze to the thermostat as he passed by to verify the temperature would remain cool enough, then reached the burgundy micro suede circular sofa that was the centerpiece of his sunken living room. The main theme was white, but the sofa, two round side chairs and the drapes were the color of deep red wine. He dropped onto the couch next to Tai, where he was flipping through his phone.

Lucas cleared his throat. “Do you suppose I could have your full attention?”

Tai widened his eyes, then tossed his phone onto the glass topped burl wood coffee table, the fake fur case keeping the clatter to a minimum. “Oops, sorry. Got distracted while you were in the kitchen.” Tai scooted closer. “But I didn’t get to finish my story yet.”

Tai had been in the middle of an animated tale on their walk back from the restaurant that involved a battle between him and his condo management company.

“I apologize.” Lucas angled his body toward Tai. “I suppose I was distracted right now as well. Tell me the rest.”

“Well, as I was saying, I have to move everything to the other side of the room for this shit, this improvement project, and I haven’t even finished putting the room together the way I wanted it yet!”

Lucas regarded Tai with amusement. “You’ve been at your new place for how long? A few months?”

Tai threw his hands in the air. “I know, right? That’s barely any time to get anything done. Now I have to undo what little progress I’ve made, make a mess and start all over.” He crossed his arms, sticking his bottom lip out. “So annoying.”

“I agree it’s annoying—”

Tai jumped in his lap and wrapped his arms around Lucas’ neck. “See? I knew you’d understand. Let’s fuck. I’ll go first.”

Lucas snorted out a laugh. “And subs accuse me of not being romantic. However, you cut me off before I could finish. It is annoying, but you brought it on yourself.”

Tai eyes widened as his jaw went slack. “Shut your mouth! I did not!”

Lucas had embraced Tai the moment he’d landed on him, so he kept a tight hold even if Tai was in the process of trying to wriggle away.

“Sit still for a moment, boy. Talk to me.” Lucas kept his tone even, but not commanding. He wouldn’t order any sub to share their feelings if they were set against it—that needed to come from them organically. He wasn’t against some strong encouraging, however.

“Why should I? You clearly don’t understand the situation.”

“Then help me to understand why it’s the management company’s fault that you haven’t handled the mess in your condo yet?”

Tai narrowed his eyes as if trying to determine whether Lucas was being sincere or sarcastic. “Well…I didn’t say it was their fault, per se. Just that it was really annoying.”

Lucas rubbed Tai’s back with one hand while still hanging on to him with the other. He didn’t know why the switch with such a big personality brought out such a need in him for more than sex or a scene. “So, what you’re really saying is that you’re irritated with yourself for not taking care of your clutter, but that the management company is an easy target because they’ve already wronged you in other ways.”

Tai struggled against him again, but with much less vigor. “I am not. I merely… They… You see…” He pressed his lips together. “The offer to fuck is off the table, mister. I don’t need more aggravation in my life right now.”

“How about more kissing?”

Before Tai had the chance to protest, Lucas claimed his mouth, pushing his tongue past Tai’s lips. They’d only kissed one other time, early on, and it had been scary enough that Lucas had avoided it ever since then. Tai hadn’t complained, so Lucas always wondered if it had been scary for him too. He rarely kissed men he was playing with, so he surprised himself by the move.

But Tai tasted so good, smelled so enticing. Lucas could breathe him in all day and lose himself in the man who refused to be a sub the way he needed. If only… He would rock Tai’s world. Cherish and keep him, not break his spirit at all if Tai would just give him the chance. But Tai remained adamant that he needed to dominate too. The situation left them at an unfortunate impasse as a pair.

Tai had yielded to him, though, and he took it as a good sign in a bad way. If Tai felt the connection between them the same way he did, then what sort of trouble were they setting themselves up for when they both knew they could never work in the long run?

They both finally broke for air. “Oh, all right. We can fuck.” Tai smiled at him with a glint in his eye. “Just don’t be a big meanie anymore.”

Lucas chuckled and pecked Tai on the nose. “Never.” He cleared his throat, wondering if he was about to set Tai off again. But it might work… “Have you ever thought about D/s, having a full-time Master?”

Tai gave him an exaggerated eyeroll and smirked. “What do you think?”

Lucas popped him on the butt. “Now, now. If you need a spanking, all you have to do is ask for it nicely.”

Tai wrinkled his nose. “Of what use is a nice spanking?”

“True. But you’re avoiding my question.”

Tai batted his eyelashes. It was something that had always annoyed Lucas when subs would use it on him. But for whatever reason, he found it adorable when Tai did it.

“What question was that again?” Tai ground his hardened cock into Lucas’ groin.

Lucas whacked him harder on his ass. “If you don’t want to talk right now, that’s fine. However, I’m not going to be a party to letting you use sex as a distraction from having a reasonable discussion regarding something I’m serious about.”

“Sorry. I just thought you weren’t into all that TPE stuff, so I guess I’m confused.”

Lucas nodded. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking lately. While I’m glad I joined Kiss of Leather, I’ve realized that I’m at the point in my life where chasing after a different sub every night is not my thing anymore.” He let out a sigh. “I just turned forty-five. In my younger days, TPE was what I would pursue when seeking out a partner. But the demands of my career made it too difficult to do right by my subs.” Lucas trailed his fingers along Tai’s shoulder. “Over the years, I made do with scenes and visiting clubs. Kept it simple. But not only am I done with chasing young subs around, I’m ready to build a life with someone, someone who I can see myself growing old with. And now that my company has reached the point where I can afford a management team? I’d like to explore a power exchange relationship again.”

Tai regarded him intently, his brow knitted as if he couldn’t believe his ears. “Damn. Can’t say I was expecting that. But…” Tai’s frown deepened, his eyes glimmering. “You know that would never work between us, right?”

Lucas swallowed around the lump in his throat. Even if Tai could be a drama queen and indulge in knee-jerk reactions, he did have a certain emotional maturity to him that Lucas found pleasing. Tai was a dichotomy that added up to an exciting, enjoyable and sexy package, and Lucas hated the idea that they would likely go off and find other partners. He only hoped it would be later instead.

Switching Places is out now and you can get your copy from Amazon US, Amazon UK, and Barnes & Noble.

~~~~~

Author Morticia Knight spends most of her nights writing about men loving men forever after. Even though she’s been crafting her naughty tales for more years than she’d like to share – her adventures as a published author began in 2011. Since then, she’s been fortunate enough to have several books on bestseller lists, along with two titles receiving recognition from the Rainbow Book Awards. Morticia currently resides on the beautiful northern Oregon coast.

Find and follow her on Facebook and Amazon.

Sexy Sunday Snippet: Fade to Black: Iris and Ezra by Holly Halsey Mayes

2 Mar

Sunday! More sexy happiness. Today we have a snippet from Holly Halsey Mayes’ contemporary romance, Fade to Black: Iris and Ezra.

cover Iris

Book Blurb:

When thirty-five year old nursing student Iris Walker accepts a concert invitation with a self-proclaimed “Ivy League go-getter”, little did she know she would be attempting to escape from him by the end of the date. She runs into Ezra Black, a man in the woods behind the concert venue, and later discovers he is the lead singer of one of the bands. Desperate to ditch her date-gone-bad, Ezra helps her escape. Even though their encounter is brief, she quickly learns she can’t get him out of her mind. He can’t forget her either, and when Iris inadvertently leaves her ID on his tour bus, he takes advantage of the opportunity to see her again.

Even though Iris is attracted to him, he’s ten years younger than her and leads a busy life in the public eye. She’s divorced, with an eight year old daughter, and trying to regain custody back from her manipulative ex-husband. Dating a rock star isn’t going to help her case, particularly one tormented by the secrets from his past. Despite the different paths they find themselves on, Iris and Ezra are drawn into in a relationship that seems destined to fade away before it can begin.

Book Excerpt:

The locker room is empty. I change out of my clothes, which are still damp with sweat. I wasn’t initially going to use the steam room or sauna, but now that I’m done working out, I feel like it may be a nice way to wrap up my visit. Besides, who knows when I will get a chance to do this again?

I put on a fluffy white robe and head over to the hot tub first. These are separate for men and women, but the sauna and steam room are same sex. I lay my white robe on the chair and step into the hot tub, letting the warm water wash over me. On the edge of the tub, there is a pitcher of ice water with lemons, along with paper cups. I pour myself a glass and take a long drink.

Leaning back, I clear my mind. Even though the yoga was good for me, my heart still aches with sadness. I miss Ezra.

Stepping out of the water, I wrap my robe around myself and push open another door that leads to the steam room. The air is hot, but moist. I lay my robe down in a chair and wrap a towel around myself.

The steam room is empty so I sit on the corner bench and rest my forehead on my knees. I can’t get him out of my mind. It’s been two weeks, and my heart breaks every hour of every day. I can’t erase him from my memory—our late night conversations, his stories about the fans on tour, the places he’s seen. And the way he makes me feel when we’re together, the way he makes love to me, cherishes me. Moisture rolls down my face, from either sweat or tears, and a sob escapes me.

The door opens, causing the air pressure in the room to change as the steam rolls out. I sniff and wipe my nose with my towel. I keep my head down in a relaxed pose, and hope the person who came in leaves me alone—I’m not in the mood for conversation.

My mind strays to Ezra—his green eyes that get darker when he’s turned on, his slow sexy smile, crooked on one side when he’s teasing me, the one dimple that appears when he laughs out loud. It’s no wonder women go crazy for him. And he liked me, an older woman with a child and baggage out to here. The smell of his cologne haunts me, even in here. Did I make a mistake, letting him go? Pushing him away?

The steam jets spurt on, pushing hot air into the room, filling my lungs. I close my eyes and pull my towel over my face.

Warm hands press onto my shoulders, followed by heat—lips, softly placed on the center of my back.

Ezra.

He’s here.

I start to cry, my shoulders wracked with grief. Part of me is relieved, but at the same time, this is starting all over again with the loss. We’re postponing the inevitable.

“Why are you here?” My voice is choked up. I don’t look at him. I’m facing the wall, my knees drawn up to my chest.

“I miss you.” His deep voice echoes in the room, even though he’s trying to speak softly. “I miss the person I was when you were in my life.”

“Ezra, we can’t do this—” I start shakily, still amazed he’s here. He turns me around to face him. A towel is wrapped around his waist, hanging low. His chest hair, dark and glistening in the moist air, gathers around his navel into a trail that leads down beneath his towel. The steam vents have stopped, but the air is thick. He stands like a ghost in the mist before me. Perhaps I’m imagining him after all.

“I haven’t taken a full breath since you’ve been gone.” His eyes are pleading. His face is drawn, thinner, tired. Like he hasn’t slept in days. A lock of dark hair curls and falls down over his forehead. “Please, don’t send me away.”

My heart shatters and I let out a sob. He doesn’t hesitate, grabbing my hand to kiss my palm as he rubs his cheek against my hand, the scruff on his face lightly scratching at my fingers.

He leans me back on the hot tiles and loosens the towel from my body. For a split second, I consider the fact we are in a public steam room. He takes the lemon scented hand towel and gently lays it over my eyes. I can’t see anything, but the heat from his gaze and the steam in the room is like molten lava on my skin. I should tell him no. I should stop this, but in this instant, I don’t care—one more time, just one more time to be with him.

I smell lemon from the towel and mint as he lets out a breath before softly kissing me, licking and tracing the edges of my lips. He nips my bottom lip and gives it a tug. I kiss him back, hesitant at first, but he deepens the kiss, encouraged by my acceptance. When I reach my arms up, he backs away, leaving me lying naked on the tiles and blindfolded by the hand towel.

He pulls my arms up around my head and his mouth travels downward as he traces around my nipple with his tongue, drawing it into his mouth and sucking before letting it go with a pop. I’m on fire from the inside out.

He continues his descent, kissing and licking down my stomach, pulling my knees apart, and lowering his head between my thighs. Using his fingers, he spreads me wide, licking gently from the bottom to the top. When he gets to my clit, he gives it a hard suck and I cry out.

~~~~

Get your copy now on Amazon.

~~~~

Holly Mayes is a native of Michigan and enjoys reading, writing, photography and spending time with her two daughters, husband, cat and dog.

She has been published for her short stories in the Lansing Community College Washington Square Review, the women’s online journal When Women Waken, and the Rescued Pets Anthology by Splattered Ink Press.

Sexy Sunday Snippet: Found by Annabelle Michaels

25 Feb

This week’s Sexy Snippet is extra awesome. We have a bonus interview Kris Michaels did with Annabella Michaels.

KRIS MICHAELS: Hi, Annabella! I have to gush for just a moment. I LOVE your writing. I’ve read every one of your books–twice, and I’m secretly doing a fan girl dance right now. So, while I settle down, why don’t you tell our audience a little something about yourself?

ANNABELLA MICHAELS: I was born and raised in a small town near Cincinnati, Ohio. I’m 44 years old and I’ve been married to my high school sweetheart for 23 years. Together, we’ve raised two amazing kids. My daughter is in her third year of college, studying special education, and my son is a high school senior/sophomore in college, studying software engineering. Our home is a bit like a zoo at the moment because we have 3 cats, 3 dogs and 40 rabbits, which explains why I lock myself in my writing cave all the time. LOL

KRIS MICHAELS: When did you first realize you wanted to be a writer?

ANNABELLA MICHAELS: I’ve always been an avid reader, but I’d never really considered writing. Then one of my best friends started writing and she would often ask me my opinions on things, such as, what things I’d like to see in a story or what song the characters should dance to at their wedding, etc. It got my creative juices flowing and my own storyline started to unfold in my head. My friend encouraged me to give writing a try and to just write for my own enjoyment. So, I did and soon, I had taken off with an entire series.

KRIS MICHAELS: What drew you into writing romance?

ANNABELLA MICHAELS: I’ve always loved romance stories. From the moment the characters feel that first spark, to the second they realize they can’t live without that person; I love it all. When I decided to give writing a try, there was no question in my mind that it would be romance.

KRIS MICHAELS: How long does it take you to write a book?

ANNABELLA MICHAELS: It honestly depends on how much time I have to write and how well the characters are “speaking” to me. Generally, it takes me about a month to write everything and then another month to go through the editing process.

KRIS MICHAELS: Do you write full time? What is your work schedule like when you’re writing?

ANNABELLA MICHAELS: I WISH! LOL. Hopefully someday soon, I’ll be able to write full time. I own another business and on the days I work there (usually 2-3 days/week), I’ll write in the evenings after I get home. All other days, including weekends, I write as much as possible. Luckily, I have a very patient and supportive family.

KRIS MICHAELS: What would you say is your interesting writing quirk?

ANNABELLA MICHAELS: Okay, I’m not really sure if this is a quirk or just my being inept, but my family makes fun of this all the time. I can’t type. Like, AT ALL! I haven’t had to do it since my high school typing class, so I lost that skill over the years. I AM, however, an outstanding hen pecker. I’m really very fast at it and it’s how I’ve written all my books. Sometimes, though, I’ll be in the zone and just furiously pecking away and my kids will shout from the other room, “Can somebody, please open the door and let that chicken outside?” Haha! Did I mention they think they’re comedians?

KRIS MICHAELS: What do you like to do when you’re not writing?

ANNABELLA MICHAELS: READ!!! That’s the one thing I’ve missed since I started writing. I don’t have nearly the time to read that I used to have, but I do give myself 20 minutes to read each night before bed. It’s my way of unwinding and getting lost in someone else’s world.

KRIS MICHAELS: How many books have you written?

ANNABELLA MICHAELS: There are 7 books in the Souls of Chicago series and I’m currently working on my eighth book, which is a spinoff from that series.

KRIS MICHAELS: What do you think makes a good story?

ANNABELLA MICHAELS: For me, it would be lots of emotion. I enjoy sex scenes as much as the next person, but I love a story that makes me laugh, cry or get angry, right along with its characters. If a story has a lot of depth, then I care more about what happens to the characters and when those intimate scenes occur, it’s like I’m right there with them.

KRIS MICHAELS: As a child, what did you want to do when you grew up?

ANNABELLA MICHAELS: I wanted to be a child psychologist and actually started out majoring in psychology in college. Then I found something else that was a better fit for me, and that’s what I do when I’m not writing.

KRIS MICHAELS: If I stranded you on a mountain top for a year in a cabin, with everything but internet or entertainment provided, and told you only had access to three author’s books, which authors would you read?

ANNABELLA MICHAELS: Oh, wow! That actually sounds heavenly. Haha! My three choices would be Charlie Cochet, Abigail Roux and T.J. Klune. Hands down, my favorites.

KRIS MICHAELS: Thank you so much for taking the time to visit with us today. If you love wonderful character driven romances with deep emotion, check out Annabella’s Soul’s of Chicago Series. I highly recommend it!

~~~~~

Found is part of the Hamilton’s Heroes series.

Copy of found-customdesign-jayaheer2018-eBook-complete (1) (2) copy

Book blurb:

As a former U.S.A.F. Pararescueman, Jeremy O’Brien is used to following orders, no questions asked. So, when Micah, his boss at Hamilton Security, asks him to take on a special case, he readily accepts. Micah’s instructions are simple, find the man in the picture and bring him back to Chicago.

Seven years ago, Zane Wilkinson left the hospital against doctor’s orders, only to suffer a final, devastating blow that left him with no choice but to leave the only place he’d called home. Feeling heartbroken and empty, Zane moved from town to town just trying to survive, while never letting anyone get too close.

In a chance encounter, Jeremy finds himself crossing paths with a man who fits Zane’s description. His instincts tell him that he’s on to something, but Micah warns him that he needs to be absolutely sure. Jeremy sets a plan in motion that will allow him to get closer to the man he believes to be Zane. However, the closer he gets, the more he likes the man and begins to question why he was sent to find him.

Will Jeremy be able to follow through with his orders without becoming too attached? Or will he realize that in his search for Zane, he’s found so much more than he bargained for?

Excerpt:

The ache in my chest was something new. I’d never felt so much pain for someone else, but seeing him hurting actually caused my heart to hurt. Without thinking, I reached over and took his hand. He stiffened at first and I kept my hand loose, giving him the option if he wanted to pull away, but after a few seconds I felt him tighten his grip, just a fraction. We stayed that way, with his hand in mine, the rest of the drive. I stared out my window, trying to figure out what was happening to me.

I was no stranger to developing bonds with other people. After all, I’d been very close with my mom, and I’d even had the occasional boyfriend before. The men I’d served with in the Air Force and the guys I worked with at Hamilton security were like brothers to me. I trusted each of them with my life and they trusted me with theirs. Yet, sitting in that truck, holding his hand was the most connected I’d ever felt to another human being.

What had started out as a simple attraction was quickly becoming more, at least for me. How much more, I couldn’t say. Logically, I knew that getting involved with him was reckless, but I was also helpless to stop it. I still didn’t know why Micah wanted him brought to Chicago, or if he was in fact Zane. For all I knew, he could be wanted by the police, possibly as a hacker or a drug dealer, although my instincts told me that he wasn’t a criminal.

Regardless of all the unknowns, two things were perfectly clear: the man sitting beside me affected me more than anyone I’d ever met in my life and, reckless or not, I wanted to get to know him better.

~~~~~

Get your copy of Found now on Amazon.

Here’s what Annabella has to say about herself:

I am married to my high school sweetheart who let’s face it, is a saint for putting up with me all of these years. Together we have been blessed with the chance to raise two amazing human beings and so far we haven’t screwed it up; I’ll let you know for sure later. I am a business owner and spend more time laughing than actually working most days. I love watching movies, cooking, going to the beach and spending time with my family and best friends. I am an obsessive reader who is a complete sucker for a good love story, but loves to feel a broad range of emotions throughout a book. I think real life is hard enough and so my books offer twists and turns, but always with a happy ending.

Find her on Amazon and Facebook  and join her Facebook group, Annabella’s Sexy Souls.

Sexy Sunday Snippet: An Actor’s Guide to Romance by Catherine Curzon & Eleanor Harkstead

18 Feb

Happy Sunday Sexies! This week we have some hotness from Catherine Curzon’s single title pairing, An Actor’s Guide to Romance.

An Actors Guide to Romance cover

Book Blurb:

For twenty years, Adam Fisher and Thomas Fox have been the best of enemies. From their first meeting at drama school to shared stages, shared bills and a competition to amass the most illustrious awards, they have been the names on every theatregoers’ lips. Separately they can sell out an entire run in an hour, so when they’re cast as lovers in London’s hottest new play, the tickets are gone in minutes.

But for rakish Adam and gentlemanly Thomas, the small matter of their first on-stage kiss is causing a headache for everyone. Over a bottle of wine on one rainy night in the city, these two acting legends will do whatever it takes to banish their first-night nerves. After all, as everyone knows, the show must go on!

Excerpt:

This was more than the script called for, more than their history of arguments and jibes and rivalry called for too, and it was Adam who broke the kiss first. He gazed at Thomas through eyes that shone with desire, his lips parted in a perfect, tempting pout.

“The first time I read the script,” he purred, “I thought how much better it would’ve been if they went to bed at this point, don’t you think? Our brave young playwright missed a trick there.”

Thomas panted, trying and failing to make sense of what had just happened. And what Adam was saying. Bed?

He rested the tip of his nose against Adam’s, staring into those beautiful blue eyes, his mouth fallen open as if the kiss had robbed him of the power of speech.

Since Thomas was an actor, the silence didn’t last long.

“I think you’re right. Damn right.” Thomas swallowed, grinning as he stroked Adam’s back. “What this play needs is a love scene. A proper one with naked, tangled limbs…” He brushed his lips against Adam’s. “Lots of sighing… Perhaps a headboard banging against a wall as well. Do you agree?”

“The way I see it, we need to really work through this tension between us.” Adam nodded gravely. “Twenty years of rivalry haven’t done it, so we could just see if a very sweaty, very dramatic fuck achieves what awards and curtain calls can’t. You might still hate me at the end of it, but you’ll be very happy at the same time.”

“I’m pretty happy now, to be honest.” Thomas brought his other hand between their bodies and cupped it over the bulge of Adam’s erection. “As are you, I notice. Now—if my co-star wouldn’t mind leading the way to the bedroom, we can get this love scene blocked out properly.”

“This is a one-time, gala performance. A royal command, if you like. One night only.” Adam took Thomas by the hand and led him from the sitting room. They passed along a hallway decorated with bright oiled canvasses showing splashes of color and seaside scenes, alongside vintage posters of long-since-forgotten productions. Then he pushed open a doorway and told Thomas, “After you!”

Adam’s white, metal-framed bed was heaped with quilts and cushions and Thomas wanted to grab Adam and dive at it with him in his arms. It looked antique, like the rest of the furniture, complementing the busy William Morris wallpaper.

“What a glorious room for a romp!”

“I remember how you hated my digs at RADA—you said they looked like a Turkish brothel!” Adam laughed and turned to the dresser. He took a cigarette lighter and ignited it, touching the flame to the candles that stood there, each as irregular as the next. “I’m still embracing Turkish brothel chic, though it’s a lot less damp these days!”

Just as Adam spoke, the rain began to fall hard against the windows and hiss against the sill outside.

“That rain tells me that we’re still in London.” Thomas bent to loosen his shoelaces. He kicked off his brogues and pulled off his socks. “But Turkish brothel—oh, yes, perfect for our daring actors as they explore the inner depths of their characters.”

“This doesn’t make us friends, you know, or lovers. It just means we get all that unhealthy competition out.” Thomas wasn’t sure who Adam was trying to convince, but from the need he felt and the outline of Adam’s erection in his linen trousers, it wasn’t working. “Then a simple on-stage kiss will be no challenge.”

“Oh, of course, Adam—this is textbook Stanislavski.” He began to unbutton his shirt with one hand and caught Adam around the waist with the other. “Always go to bed with other members of the cast. Even barmy old Brecht recommends it.”

Was that sarcastic enough? Thomas wondered, as he ghosted his lips across Adam’s cheek and brought them to settle on his mouth again. He felt Adam’s hands brush against his own to take over unbuttoning his shirt, felt the fabric fall away and those same palms brushing over his naked chest.

“The curtain rises,” Adam whispered against his lips. “The moon hangs low above the horizon.”

Then, his voice trailing into a breath, Adam abandoned Chekhov in favor of another kiss, even as he eased Thomas’ shirt from his shoulders and let it whisper onto the floor.

Still deep in their kiss, Thomas popped open the buttons of Adam’s shirt one by one. He slid his hand between the folds of fabric and took Adam’s hardened nipple between finger and thumb. He felt the heat of his rival’s—no—his lover’s breath, heard the hint of a whimper deep in his throat before Adam gasped, “You’ve found my weak spot, you old fox.”

~~~~

Get your copy now direct from Pride Publishing or Amazon.

~~~~

Catherine Curzon  is a historian of 18th century royalty. Her work has been featured on many platforms and she has also spoken at venues across the UK. She lives in Yorkshire atop a ludicrously steep hill.

Eleanor Harkstead likes to dash about in nineteenth-century costume, in bonnet or cravat as the mood takes her. Eleanor lives somewhere in the Midlands with a large ginger cat who resembles a Viking.

Sexy Sunday Snippet: Spanking the Senator by Elizabeth SaFleur

11 Feb

Think Femme Domme might not be your thing? Elizabeth SaFleur promises her alpha male submissives who meet the female Dominants of their dreams are no pushovers. That’s what makes it so much fun, right?

 

About the book:

“No one is regular when it comes to sex.” ~Candor Moore

Secret Service Agent Candor Moore puts her life at risk every day to protect the men and women this country elects to high office. She expects no thanks, would prefer to remain invisible. So when she saves the life of Senator Thomas Kincaid she doesn’t know how to handle his sudden romantic interest in her. Love is messy. Love is unpredictable. Love cannot be controlled. But sex where she can exercise her full Femme Domme nature? Oh, yes.

 

Thomas can’t stop thinking about the beautiful guardian angel who put her body between him and a bullet—the first woman to spark his interest since his wife died. Candor proves to be a hard sell when he asks her out, and even harder to pin down around commitment. Thomas had never considered himself a sexually submissive man, but for his Mistress Angel’s love, he’ll go all in—which proves to be the key to earning her heart.

~~~~~

“Thomas.” Candor tapped her fingernails against her glass and scrutinized the man who sat before her full of hope, good looking, and, quite frankly, ignorant as to what he was getting himself into with her. Why did she find his innocence attractive? Perhaps she had delayed too long in immersing him in her brand of relationship, or non-relationship.

“Yes?” he asked.

“You like the idea of me dominating you.”

He nearly spat out his wine. She handed him his napkin.

“Would you like to find out how much?” she asked.

“Will you come to Montana?” He coughed a little into his napkin.

Negotiator, indeed.

She rested her bare foot on his. He didn’t pull it back as he had at the restaurant.

“I will do more with you. Tonight,” she declared. Oh, that look on his face was priceless.

“Are you getting hard for me, Thomas?” she asked.

His neck flushed but his eyes stayed trained on hers. “Yes.”

She pushed out her chair and held out her hand. “Come with me.” The time for talk and teasing was over.

He looked up at her as if to ask, already? Yes, already, she thought.

She wasn’t going to go away with a man who didn’t understand she had one kind of relationship on her mind, and her preferences would never change. She’d tried a few vanilla dates here and there, even dated a man for six months whose idea of deviant sex was doing it upright in the shower. She’d been bored witless. Thomas, however, fascinated her.

Thomas pushed back his chair and rose. “Can I bring my wine?” He threw her a smile, trying to lighten the mood, which was not his job. She wouldn’t allow him to direct the atmosphere.

As they took the steps, her mind cleared of the day’s events. She tuned into Thomas. She noted his breathing, the way he clutched his wine glass, how his eyes stayed trained forward.

“Don’t be nervous,” she said as soon as they reached the top of the stairs. “You can always say no.”

“Not likely,” he said under his breath.

She turned for his bedroom where she’d napped in a very comfortable king-sized bed draped in soft green, white, and taupe bedding. The tall bedposts begged to be put to good use, and despite being surrounded with classic cherry furniture with brass handles, the room had potential for what she planned. When she woke earlier, she was sure she’d been transported to Colonial Williamsburg. Time to add her flavor to the décor.

He set his wine down on his nightstand. “Candor, it’s been a while.”

“I understand.”

“It’s just if this is an audition . . .”

She smiled, but he looked grim. “No, Thomas.” She ran her palms down both his arms and captured his hands. “Remember, I won’t harm you,” she promised. “If you’d rather—”

“No,” he said quickly. “I want to.”

“Then take off your shirt. From there, I’ll direct your access to my body.”

His eyes darkened with lust. “Access,” he said.

“Yes, consider it like giving you permission.”

He swallowed so hard she saw his Adam’s apple move up and down. If this didn’t work, then there was no reason to torture each other with a trip across the country.

“You game?” she asked.

He nodded. “I’m game.” The words came out in a hoarse whisper, but his fingers moved to his buttons.

She stepped backward to give him room. Plus, she wanted to watch the reveal of his naked body. It wasn’t just men who got off on visual delights. Two buttons undone, and she could tell this man had hidden treasures.

His fingers stilled, and she glanced up at his face.

“Why, Thomas Kincaid, are you shy?”

“No. I just like taking my time.”

“As do I.”

“And I like watching you watch me. It’s like nothing bad can happen when you’re in the room.” The man smirked. “The first time I saw you, I thought a guardian angel stood over me. Silly, huh?”

“Not at all. Consider me your Mistress Angel.” She liked that—the sound of the name and its meaning. She would never let anyone hurt this man. She recognized a feeling of protectiveness toward Thomas, something she hadn’t felt in a while, certainly not about someone she wasn’t paid to protect. Other than Franco, of course.

More buttons released the constriction of fabric across his chest. He unbuttoned the cuffs of his shirt, shrugged out of the garment, and hung it over a chair back. His hands grabbed his under shirt and pulled it off over his head—a manly move she’d always adored—to reveal a delightful dusting of hair across his muscled chest, hair that was also peppered with gray and made him look even more masculine. This man pushed more than paper all day.

“Then I noticed your hair,” he said.

She walked to him and put a fingertip over his lips. Politicians made talking an art form, and silence would be one of his greatest challenges. Perhaps she’d gag him later—see if he could take not speaking.

She pushed him so the back of his knees hit the bed and he tumbled backward. He caught himself with his hands but didn’t try to get back up. His chest lay bared with his abs starkly delineated in muscle and a V of hair that trailed beneath his belt buckle.

She ran a fingertip over his stomach ridges. “You’ve been quite physical in your life.”

“Hay bales. Lifted thousands of them in my lifetime. No one who owns a horse ranch gets away without doing work.”

“Okay, then. I’m considering going to Montana with you.”

“Considering—”

His words choked in his throat as soon as she reached his belt buckle.

After ridding him of his belt and dumping it unceremoniously on the floor, she cupped his trapped erection.

“Yes,” she said. “I like to consider all my options.”

After unbuttoning his trousers, she freed a cock she knew would be as magnificent as the man who leaned back on his elbows receiving her handling. She’d felt him before but now was treated to the full visual.

“They do grow you country boys big, don’t they?” she said, marveling at the flesh in her hands.

“Now you’re just flattering me.” His eyes held an astounding confidence. Clearly, her dominance fueled his courage—something she’d rarely seen in a man but which was oh-so-welcomed.

She let go of him and stood upright. Taking three steps back, she slowly lowered herself into a corner wingback chair.

“Thomas, take off the rest of your clothes. Show me what else you’ve got.”

He smiled and rolled his eyes, but God love the man, he rose and did what she asked. The loss of his shirt, trousers, socks and then those tight black briefs confirmed all the high hopes she had for this man.

Some men were just proportioned correctly with well-developed legs, torso, and arms as if they were designed to go with one another. Someone high above definitely designed Thomas Kincaid well—very well. He should have an ego the size of Montana. Instead, he stood before her, nude and comfortable, as if masculinity was in his genes, a man who had embraced the physicality of life from an early age.

Now she’d see how much he got off on being truly, thoroughly dominated.

BUY LINKS for Spanking the Senator

Amazon US    Amazon UK    Amazon CA    Amazon AU      Barnes & Noble     Kobo

 

~~~~~

Elizabeth SaFleur writes contemporary romance that dares to “go there.” Expect alpha males (and females), seductive encounters, and love. Learn more about her steamy and sexy stories by following her on Amazon and Bookbub.

 

Sexy Sunday Snippet: Won’t Feel a Thing by CF White

4 Feb

How lucky are we! This week we have a hot bit from Won’t Feel a Thing, Book 1 of CF White’s St. Cross series.

CFW_WontFeelaThing

About the book:

It takes more than a doctor to mend a broken heart.

Ollie Warne is fresh out of nursing school and working his dream job as a pediatric cardiology nurse at St Cross Children’s Hospital, London. He wants to start the new year free of personal heartache after his track record of falling for the wrong man–his New Year’s resolution is to live a life of carefree liaisons from now on.

He immediately meets Jacob, father of one of Ollie’s patients and a man harboring more guilt and past demons than even Ollie, which is saying something…

Their growing attraction makes it hard for Ollie to keep his distance, but he has to. Not only do the ethics of his profession demand it, but Ollie is entangled with another man–a predatory doctor who has a huge personal and professional stake in Ollie’s life.

Ollie risks more than his job by getting involved with a patient’s father–and much more than just the success of his New Year’s resolution, something that was supposed to ensure that, this time, he won’t feel a thing.

Excerpt:

“You want my opinion?”

“Yes.”

“My honest opinion?”

“Yes,” Ollie repeated. “Please.”

“Brutal honest opinion?”

Yes.

“Even if you don’t like it?”

“Even if I never want to talk to you again.” Ollie took a sharp slurp through the straw of his smoothie and winced, his glasses tipping to the end of his nose. “Until tonight, anyway.”

“Then leave well alone.”

Ollie sighed. He sucked up another mouthful of his daily fruit and veg intake, flicked back his blond hair that had lost its vigor after a twelve-hour night shift, and glanced away from Taya’s wide brown oval eyes. The eyes that signified she meant every damn word. Bitch.

“Told you.”

Taya freed her dark, waist-length hair from its curled bun and stroked it over one shoulder. She wrapped the band around her slender, dark-skinned wrist, then sipped her dainty cup of pink hot chocolate. The blue edges of her lips, caused by the freezing weather, were subsiding back to their usual reddish tinge with each guzzle of the pink cream and rainbow of chocolate candies scattered over her ridiculous, sickly concoction. She hadn’t even an offered a spoonful to him. Twelve hours straight on night shift clearly meant she needed the sugar all to herself.

“He’s not worth your time, your worry, or your respect.” She clanged the cup down onto the glass surface of the table, pulled her winter trench coat over the scrubs she hadn’t bothered to change out of, and reached for her packet of menthol slims.

“Neither are they.” Ollie pointed to the cigarettes.

Taya glared across the table. She unhooked the top of the packet, took one of the white sticks between her teeth, and lit it with her pink lighter. Blowing the smoke into the freezing cold air, she waved her hand.

“We all have our vices, Oliver.”

Ollie stuck his middle finger up. He slapped it back down and shoved it into his jacket pocket. It was freezing, and Taya had to bloody sit outside the corner coffee shop in order to smoke her way out of the trying night shift. She was right. Everyone needed their vices, especially with what he and Taya did for a living. He sighed.

“I think he needs patience.”

“He’s got plenty of those.” Taya pointed her two fingers clutching the death stick at Ollie.

“Har fricking har. Patience with a c.”

“He’s a c all right.” Taya took another drag. At Ollie’s glare, she sighed and rested her elbow on the table top. “What? He is.”

“I think you may be the only female in the entire hospital who doesn’t like him.” Ollie slurped the dregs of his raspberry-ripple smoothie and shivered. He should have gone for a hot drink, but it was hard enough to sleep during the day as it was. Caffeine would only make it infinitely more difficult.

“That’s because I know him,” Taya replied.

Urgh. Not you too?”

“Ew.” Taya grimaced around her cigarette. “No, thank you.”

Ollie leaned back in the chair. He waved a hand to waft away the smoke drifting into his face. To give her some credit, Taya was trying to blow it out of the side of her mouth to avoid him, but the icy-cold January breeze from the earlier sleet downpour blew it straight back. Ollie zipped up his puffer jacket, folded his arms, and jiggled on the cold metal chair.

“You nearly done?” He nodded to the half-full cup of violently pink chocolate.

Taya blew another puff of smoke into the air, stubbed out the remains of her cigarette, and downed the rest of her drink, leaving a foam mustache on her top lip. She licked it away. “Yeah. Home to bed, miss the snowfall, back at eight. You?”

They scraped back their chairs, and Ollie tucked a five-pound note under the ashtray for the servers. Anyone willing to come outside and serve drinks in this weather should most definitely get tips, even if his measly nurse’s wages were probably far less than those of the coffee baristas working this part of London.

“I should go see my dad,” he replied.

Taya linked her arm in with his, curling her slender fingers around his quilted sleeve. Checking both ways along the crossroads lined by independent boutiques, high-class restaurants, unconventional cafes, and health-food shops, she steered him across, narrowly missing a black cab speeding over the miniroundabout. The glass-enclosed bus stop’s bench overflowed with waiting passengers, so he stood, waiting, jiggling on his freezing toes within his inappropriate-for-the-weather slip-on loafers, and checked the time on the electric board for when the next bus was due.

“How’s he doing?” Taya asked.

“Good days and bad days.” Ollie sighed. “Keeps calling me Tilly.”

Taya tried to hold in the chuckle but failed miserably. Ollie didn’t mind so much. A good sense of humor was always best in these situations, not to mention their line of work. He pulled Taya in closer. It was fricking freezing, and snowflakes fell from the overcast sky. How would he get back to work later that night? London came to a standstill if even one flake hit any mode of public transport. Him living in the other end of the city—the cheap end—would make it all the more difficult to travel across town. On occasions, where there wasn’t a downfall, he would have cycled in. But that was out of the question with the ice on the roads. And the fact he hadn’t woken up in his own bed last night. Ollie shuddered at the memory.

“Right.” Ollie bounced to keep warm while awaiting the number 252. “It’s January. So that means New Year’s resolutions. What’s yours?”

“Quit smoking.”

“Good luck.” Ollie meant it.

Taya stuck out her tongue.

“Well, we both know mine—”

“Which you broke last night.” Taya was a bitch like that.

“I don’t believe New Year’s resolutions should start until the second week of January.” Ollie rubbed his hands together, digging Taya’s arm into his side, and wondered why he hadn’t thought to bring gloves. Ah, yes, he hadn’t had any where he’d been before his shift started. He wasn’t allowed to leave any trace of his existence there.

Riiight,” Taya said. “So that means from today, you’ll be steering clear of arsehole men?”

“Sadly, no. Unfortunately, I will no doubt encounter many of them in my time without realizing until it’s too late.”

“Amen.” Taya saluted.

Ollie wasn’t sure what the salute was about. But he wasn’t particularly religious, so maybe that was how it was done in church these days? Or temples, considering Taya’s family were Hindu.

“So what is your resolution, then?”

“No baggage,” Ollie replied.

“Baggage?”

“Yep,” Ollie confirmed.

The gleaming new red Routemaster bus edged along the narrow High Street, bumping over the speed mounds meant to slow the traffic down, which Ollie thought ridiculous as the morning rush-hour pileup tended to last all day in central London. The streets were filled with scuttling people carrying take-out coffee cups, cyclists braving the ice, and the occasional honking of a taxi horn. This time of the morning, most people were trying to get to work and not home from it like Ollie and Taya. He was never quite sure who were keener to reach their destinations.

“I don’t mind a complete arsehole—”

“Obviously.” Taya cut Ollie off with a rise of her perfectly plucked eyebrows. That new Rainbow Hot Chocolate had clearly contained one too many e-numbers and sent her loopy. That and the long night shift. Not that she hadn’t been a little bit loopy to begin with.

“Ha-ha.” Ollie pushed her forehead. “Like, I can handle a dickhead—”

“We all know.”

“Jesus Christ,” Ollie muttered. “No more white hot chocolate with pink dye for you, okay?”

“Sorry.” Taya pressed her lips together. She rose up on her tiptoes to check on the bus’s progress but needn’t have worried as it had traveled all of a millimeter since the start of their conversation. At this rate Ollie might get home in time to have a shower and come straight back.

“What I mean is—”

“You don’t want a man who can’t commit because of circumstance,” Taya finished for him.

Ollie was capable of finishing his own sentences, but Taya was getting warm from flapping her lips, so he allowed it. “Exactly. I’m married to my job. I love my job. Therefore, I should have the occasional fling and become the arsehole myself.” He pointed a finger at Taya. “Don’t fricking say it.”

Taya shrugged and mimed zipping her lips up.

“What do we nurses say on the daily?”

“No, you can’t have McDonald’s?”

“Not that one.”

“You’re going to feel a little prick?”

Ollie sniggered. “Not that one either.”

“Oh, I know. It’s, of course I’ll change your TV channel for you—it’s not like I have anything better to do with my time?”

“No! I mean the big one: you won’t feel a thing.”

Taya nodded. “So?”

“So, my resolution is to no longer feel a thing.”

“Good luck.” Taya smiled. Bitch.

The bus pulled up, and Ollie jogged on the spot, waiting for the doors to open. They hissed to the side, and even though he and Taya were standing correctly at the hop-on part of the Routemaster with the exit farther along the double decker, a tall man with floppy dark hair jumped straight off and bashed Ollie’s arm as he rushed up the High Street, heading toward the gleaming glass frontage of St. Cross Children’s Hospital.

“Ouch.” Ollie pouted and rubbed his arm.

“Ha!” Taya jumped the step onto the bus.

“What?”

Amusement shimmered across Taya’s face as she bleeped her Oyster card onto the yellow reader. “You just felt something.”

“Oh, bog off.”

~~~~~

Get your copy now at Loose Id or Amazon.

CF White was brought up in a relatively small town in Hertfordshire, C F White managed to do what most other residents try to do and fail—leave.

Studying at a West London university, she realised there was a whole city out there waiting to be discovered, so, much like Dick Whittington before her, she never made it back home and still endlessly searches for the streets paved with gold, slowly coming to the realisation they’re mostly paved with chewing gum. And the odd bit of graffiti. And those little circles of yellow spray paint where the council point out the pot holes to someone who is supposedly meant to fix them instead of staring at them vacantly whilst holding a polystyrene cup of watered-down coffee.

She eventually moved West to East along that vast District Line and settled for pie and mash, cockles and winkles and a bit of Knees Up Mother Brown to live in the East End of London; securing a job and creating a life, a home and a family.

Find CF on Twitter and Facebook.

 

Sexy Sunday Snippet: Tapped by Liz Crowe

28 Jan

Tip up your mugs, this Sunday we have a hot excerpt from Liz Crowe’s Tapped, from her Brewing Passion series.

tapped_800

About the book:

One hot entrepreneur plus a driven saleswoman and sultry brewer: simmered in the craft beer world for a unique, sexy reading experience!

When wealthy brewery owner Austin Fitzgerald meets sexy saleswoman Evelyn Benedict, angry sparks fly. They seem destined to clash, until a hot hookup in a cold beer cooler changes everything.

For Austin, it’s a life-altering moment that sets him on a path away from his birthright, while Evelyn must face her fears about committing to a man considered the playboy of the micro-brewing world.

The power of their preconceived notions nearly tears them apart—until they meet up with brewmaster Ross, who opens their eyes to a deeper, more erotic connection.

But three strong personalities don’t always make for the best emotional mix and when a simple misunderstanding causes chaos, it’s up to Ross to somehow repair the tattered shreds of their relationship.

Excerpt:

Austin sat, sipping coffee and watching the sun rise. He’d slipped out from under the soft sheets and Evelyn’s warm embrace, smiling as she mumbled and flopped over onto her other side. After a freezing five-mile run along trail around the lake, he’d come back, gotten coffee from the smiling B & B owner and sat, watching Evelyn sleep for a few minutes. After deciding to let her rest, he took his coffee to the adjoining room with a giant floor-to-ceiling window.

To say that life as Evelyn Benedict’s boyfriend was tumultuous constituted an understatement in the extreme. Her mood swings were wide and at times breathtaking. She lived and worked with a passion matched only by her enthusiasm for sex.

And she expected a lot of the people around her, so when someone disappointed her at work, or in his case, at home, there was hell to pay. But he loved it. Absolutely fucking reveled in it, using his own much calmer nature to cool her, to temper some of her more egregious outbursts of anger and frustration.

Of course, ‘home’ was a misnomer. She refused to move in with him, keeping that shitty apartment like a badge of honor, staying over at his condo on the weekends but insisting on sleeping in her own bed during the week.

So he stayed with her, mostly. And since he’d never been a guy who gave much thought to his surroundings as long as his basic needs were met, he didn’t care. Because she met every single one of his needs—emotional and mental with her constant questions and challenges about brewing, his company, and how to make it better. And her physicality—her near constant need for skin-to-skin contact—matched his in a perfect and sometimes scary way.

As for the sex, he’d never met a woman more inclined to experiment. One many levels, she reminded him of Ross—and not just the way she threw herself into sex, enjoying every moment, every touch, every caress as if it might be her last. She was also somewhat alarmingly like him in other ways—guarding herself, second-guessing anything that might hint at actual emotion, willing to let others commit before she would. Ready to retract into her hard, tough-girl shell, emotionless shell at the slightest provocation.

Maddening. But he was so deeply in love with her, he felt prepared to meet it, head on.

Most days.

“Austin?” Her voice behind him made him stand and stretch, his cock already tingling in anticipation. “Where did you go? Jesus, what time is it? Get your ass back here.”

He grinned. “Think you can just boss me like that, woman?” He leaned on the door frame, drinking her in with his eyes. “Because you can’t.”

“I’m not bossing, dear. Just suggesting.” She let the sheet fall aside, revealing her completely naked body. His smile widened when she bent one knee and reached down to touch herself. “You know, only suggesting that you get your sweet self over here and help a girl out.”

He grinned, yanked off his shirt and shorts, and dove into the warm nest of sheets and Evelyn. The frustration at her most recent rejection was already forgotten in the amazing smell of her skin and the lovely sound of her moans as he did what she suggested, for an hour or two.

Later, when they lay tangled in damp sheets, catching their breath, their fingers clasped together between them, Evelyn sighed. “So, tell me something,” she said. Austin forced himself up to full consciousness as best he could.

“Hmm,” he said, turning to face her, taking in the flushed, well-fucked look on her face with more than a little self-satisfaction.

“How is it…I mean, with two, um, guys and a girl?”

Austin hesitated, then put her knuckles to his lips, buying himself some time.

She pulled her fingers free of his, sat up and wrapped the sheet around herself. One thing about his Evelyn, he mused, watching her. He would never accuse her of being indirect. About anything.

“Don’t baby me, Austin. I mean it. I want to know.”

“I have no doubt that you want to know, my love.” He propped himself on one elbow and ordered his thoughts.

“Don’t think about it, damn you. Just…tell me.” She swept her hair up off her neck, making his mouth water at the sight of her flushed skin. Making him want to grab her, hold her down, lick the sweat droplets and lose himself in her all over again. “Yo, earth to lover boy,” she demanded, snapping her fingers in front of his face. “Spill it. What’s it like? I mean do you… Would you… Oh hell, never mind.” She turned and started to climb out of bed before he reached out and grabbed her arm.

“Hang on a second. I don’t mind telling you. I guess I didn’t expect you to want to know. Most…women…aren’t that into it.”

She let him pull her back into the warm bed and curled into him so he was pressed up against her back, his lips on her bare, delicious shoulder. “Stop it,” she whispered. “Tell me what it’s like to have sex with a woman with another guy in on the act.”

He sighed and held onto her. “It’s…pretty amazing,” he admitted. “I mean, I can’t speak for the women I’ve… We’ve…well, you know what I mean.”

With a grunt of frustration, Evelyn turned and faced him, taking his face between her hands. “Are you bisexual, Austin? Because if you are, I want you to know I’m okay with it.”

He chuckled and shook his head. “No, I’m not. Unless being comfortable watching my friend have sex with a woman right in front of me, or fucking her ass while he does the same to her pussy makes me bi, of course. Because I really do enjoy doing that.”

Admitting this felt like a giant weight lifting off his chest—the last barrier to complete honesty with her was gone. Something about this made his dick hard. Or maybe it was the way one of her legs was draped over his hip, and the way her beautiful, lush breasts were barely covered by the soft white sheet right in front of him. Or perhaps it was the rich, raw, smell of her, of them, and of their recent activity in this small bedroom.

He shifted, pulling her closer, but she held back, not taking her gaze from his face. “You really enjoy it, eh?”

“Yes, Evelyn, I do. Feel this? That’s how much I enjoy it. And I’d swear after the last hour or two it would take me a day to recover.” He took her hand and put it on the erection tenting the sheet over his hips. Her slow, sexy smile made him shiver. “God help me, woman, I love you so much…” He kissed her hard, owning her, frustration with her melting away into a puddle of lust.

She broke the kiss, but kept up her hand work. “Tell me more, Austin,” she whispered, leaning close to nip his earlobe. “I want to hear about it—how you do it. How you and Ross pleasure a woman together.”

Austin froze for a split second, pondering the implication of this specific request. But the sheet covering her breasts drew away, distracting him. He reached out and held the pleasant heaviness of one in his palm. “You want to know how we do it, huh?” He grazed her nipple with his thumb, making her shudder and his dick even harder. She nodded, her blue eyes sparkling and bright, the now-familiar turned-on Evelyn sensations enveloping him.

“Like this,” he whispered, pulling away and flipping her over so fast she squealed.

~~~~~

Get your copy now on Amazon US, B&N:  and iTunes.

Author, mom of three math-minded adults, Realtor, brewery marketing consultant and sports fan, Liz Crowe is a Kentucky native and graduate of the University of Louisville living in Ann Arbor. She has decades of experience in sales and fund raising, plus an eight-year stint as a three-continent, ex-pat trailing spouse. Her unique, realistic style has been dubbed “Romance for Real Life,” and has gained thousands of fans interested in the “WHA” (“What Happens After?”).

Find her on Website, Facebook Fan Page and Sign Up for Liz Newz.

 

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