By: Beth D. Carter
Publisher: Evernight Publishing
The Art of a Kiss
One of the things I have to do as a writer of erotica romance is describe the art of a kiss. After all, a kiss is everything. It brings two people close together. It conveys emotions through lips. It can be punishing or accepting. And above all, it has to be believable. The dictionary defines a kiss as to join lips in respect, affection, love, passion. There is a Chinese Proverb that says “kissing is like drinking salted water, you drink and your thirst increases”. After all, a first kiss represents the spark of love, the hope of the future, quivers in the belly, and tingly sensations all over the body.
It should be easy, right? Writing a kiss should be the easiest thing in the world for someone like me. But capturing the beautiful act of kissing can be extremely difficult to describe. A written kiss has to be just the right blend of romantic and Oh la la! with no hint of being wet, sloppy or smacking (as I’m sure we’ve all experienced at least once in our lifetime!)
Also, writing such a monumental step as a kiss in the love story of two people has to be stimulating for the reader. It’s my job to not only write a believable love scene, but to bring that love scene to life. So sometimes dragging out that first prolonged moment can be sweet torture.
In “Invincible”, my hero and heroine haven’t seen each other in twenty-two years. He’s ready to kiss and make up, while she is hesitant. There’s a lot of unsaid emotion between them. So when he goes in for the kiss, she turns her head and his lips land on her cheek. It’s a bittersweet moment for both of them.
So how does a writer write a kiss? We close our eyes and jump back to that first moment, when we experienced that soul shattering kiss that changed us forever. We write them from our heart, from our hopes and wishes, we draw them out from every movie and book that turned us on. We study kisses, deconstruct them, fantasize about them. And we read…a lot!
While there are many ways to write a kiss, and many different scenarios to engage in a kiss, perhaps the most rewarding is that kiss when the happily ever after starts. Love stories start with a kiss, and though they may not end specifically with one, the reader knows that the kiss is there, waiting in our imagination when we turn the last page.
Lee Masterson is a gun for hire. He’s shut himself off to almost everything, existing with the memory of a woman he loved fiercely but had to let go for her safety. But his carefully constructed walls are shattered when a threat is made against Lidah Wilcox’s life, sending him back to Kentucky in an desperate effort to protect her.
The hole in Lidah’s heart never fully closed when Lee died, and when he suddenly resurrects from the grave, she’s overwhelmed with emotion and memories. Twenty-two years of emptiness lie between them, and she’s unprepared for the love that comes surging back to life.
Lee will do anything to protect Lidah, yet he can’t walk away for a second time. Danger brought them back together, but can they keep each other safe when it stalks them again?
He headed into the kitchen and grabbed a beer from the fridge, popping the top before making his way to the living room. The cool marble tile gave way to plush, cream colored carpet and he sank down into his comfortable, cushiony sofa before toeing off his shoes and propping his feet up on the coffee table. The sparse decoration fit his lifestyle, since he was constantly on the move. He took a long swig of beer and leaned his head back. Exhaustion descended over him and he closed his eyes. The thought of how much longer he could continue in his line of work was an abstract concept that solidified with every job completed. The simple fact was he was getting far too old for the same old shit.
“Play the tape.”
A second later, a soft voice came through his speakers. A memory from long ago that always managed to soothe him whenever weariness took root in his soul. For an infinitesimal moment, the world fell away to transport him back in time. He could still see her, the one woman he could never forget, frozen forever as a teenager who looked up at him with love in her eyes.
“Hi Lee, it’s Lidah. I was wondering if you’d like to, um, go to the Sadie Hawkins dance with me. ‘Cause, you know, girls have to ask boys. All right. No worries if you don’t want to. Um. Okay. Bye.”
Of course, he’d accepted. He had a crush on her the moment he’d laid eyes on her his first day of high school. If life had dealt him a better hand, he would have married her one day, and the thought still broke his heart.
“Lee,” Lidah the computer said, breaking into his melancholy memory. “You have a message coming through from an unknown IEP.”
Lee opened his eyes and sat up a little straighter. He placed his beer on the coffee table. “Spam?”
“No. It’s encrypted.”
“None. It is addressed to you, marked as urgent.”
Suddenly wary, he dug out his phone from his front pocket. “Send it to my cell.”
His phone beeped, and he swiped it to check the message. A black screen appeared, and a sentence rolled across it. “They say you’re invincible.”
Lee frowned. “What the hell?”
The screen went dark, only to be replaced with a picture. A photo of a woman, and although time had brought maturity and wisdom to her face, Lee recognized her immediately. Lidah! Layered red hair looking like fire in the sunlight. Kindness shining from her brown eyes. The living Lidah had developed into a beautiful woman, but just as that thought flashed through his head another message came through.
Bio & Social Media Links:
I like writing about the very ordinary girl thrust into extraordinary circumstances, so my heroines will probably never be lawyers, doctors or corporate highrollers. I try to write characters who aren't cookie cutters and push myself to write complicated situations that I have no idea how to resolve, forcing me to think outside the box. I love writing characters who are real, complex and full of flaws, heroes and heroines who find redemption through love. I love to hear from readers so I’ve made it really easy to find me on the web:
Amazon author page: http://www.amazon.com/BethD.Carter/e/B00EOTD1T0/ref=sr_ntt_srch_lnk_1?qid=1385417145&sr=8-1
Destined by Dragonblood
Blood Born Series 2
By Lynn Burke
Publisher: Evernight Publishing
MMF, Shifters, BDSM, Bi-sexual, Menage, Contemporary, Romance, HEA
*WARNING: This title contains explicit sexual scenes, BDSM, and anal sex.
Dolyn Kemmerly has found his destined mates. Unfortunately, they are more human than dragonblood. While his inner beast longs for them, his male stubbornness insists there are mates more worthy of his royal bloodline.
Due to Ashley O’Connor’s traumatic past, only the painful slap of a Dom’s toys can help her find release. A celibate sub, she’s never ached for a man’s tender touch—until a mysterious stranger follows her into her Master's club.
When Ashley lifts one of her hard limits, Giovanni DiLoreto, her sex-therapist recommended Dom, is finally allowed to touch the flesh he’s been lusting to caress. Doing so, however, earns him a bloody nose by a hot-as-fuck stranger. Master Vanni has never touched a dick in pleasure, but the sudden desire to dominate the newcomer—while Ashley watches—consumes him.
Dolyn’s ancestors might accept Vanni for the heart of the dragon inside him, but it will take Dolyn’s complete submission to his alpha to help Ashley heal and unlock the destiny awaiting them all.
Evernight Publishing: https://www.evernightpublishing.com/destined-by-dragonblood-by-lynn-burke/
Amazon Universal: http://mybook.to/BloodBorn2
Cloaking myself and following Ashley into the nondescript door at the end of the hallway came easy. Slipping through what appeared to a main entrance rather than a locker room of sorts she had entered proved a bit more difficult as a receptionist’s desk and bouncer flanked the double doors.
I glanced around the reception area, fully present, yet visually, nothing more than a bend of light to the two in the room with me. Gray walls. Glass desk. Abstract art on the walls and two other doors besides the one Ashley had disappeared through—boring and not giving me a hint of what lay beyond.
I eyed one of the chairs along the wall to my left and considered waiting until Ashley returned.
The double doors opened, however, releasing a flood of sensual delights mere humans wouldn’t catch. Heat, aroused murmuring, and sex. My dragon hummed his delight, but I frowned and raced forward, slipping through the opened door as the patron of whatever the place was bade the receptionist a good evening.
A holding room with another set of double doors that couldn’t muffle or contain the patrons’ arousal. Still nothing more than a flicker in a person’s peripheral vision, I pushed one of the doors open enough to slip through.
I stepped over a threshold leading to a sinner’s delight. Musk, sweetness, and the scent of anxious perspiration swept over me. Humans … dozens of them in all sorts of dress and lack thereof mingled in the huge lounge area. Dim lights. Low music. Leather seating and a bar lay on my left, a dais beyond held a St. Andrew’s Cross with a woman moaning beneath a Dom’s ministrations.
Chains clanked from a man strung to the ceiling directly on my right. Groans rose from two men getting their cocks sucked by kneeling submissives as they lounged by the bar on my left.
My gaze returned to the cross and the woman strapped to it.
How many times had I allowed Elijah to do the same to me? How many times had he forced me to climax before shoving his cock so far up my ass I lost my breath?
My dick swelled in my jeans, but it wasn’t the actions of the Dom that turned me on. It was the thought of being on the receiving end of his flogger—the one receiving the type of pleasure found in pain.
My dragon’s whimper to play hit me hard, the fact I wanted to be the one submitting rather than dominating even harder. “Alpha,” I muttered aloud, reminding us both of our dominance as a blood born dragon from the royal line.
I’d caught a hint of Ashley’s scent while following her down the hallway into the sex club, but the overwhelming perfumes of human and sex masked her—if she’d even made her way into the lounge area.
My female … found delight in a sex club. I couldn’t have asked for more. Couldn’t have been more pleased—so why didn’t my inner dragon hiss his desire to tie her up? Stripe her ass in the way Elijah had mine countless times? Why did I want to pleasure her with gentleness—loving tenderness?
A fierce frown dented my brow as I licked my lips, hoping for a taste of Ashley’s sweetness in the air.
Cries of ecstasy jerked my head to the left … the lounge’s far corner. A dark-haired man fingered a woman through her climax, her cum slipping around his hand, dripping to the floor.
Her scent slammed into me with a wave, and my dragon growled a rumble deep in my chest to taste. To claim.
Pale, shapely legs led to her rounded ass the man now caressed, and my need to taste leaped to fierce protectiveness in a single heartbeat.
No longer cloaked, I strode across the room, darkness seizing my mind, my self-control, something that hadn’t happened in over a hundred years.
He’s touching her. Mine.
My dragon hellbent on ripping the man’s arms from his torso, I stalked forward, eating up the distance between us in a matter of seconds, my claws shimmering in and out of sight.
The width of his shoulders came close to mine, but the breadth of his chest didn’t compare. An easy to defeat opponent, my dragon shrieked, clawing at my brain as I pulled all attempts to shift deep inside me where he couldn’t explode into a mass of muscle, sinew, and scales.
I grabbed the man’s shoulder and spun him toward me, my other fist shooting out, connecting with his nose before he had a chance to blink.
Green eyes. Brilliant like spring grass--
My dragon shrieked again as he grabbed hold of my upper arms to keep from falling. Electrical charges raced up through my chest, catching my breath as we stared into each other’s eyes.
Dick immediately swollen—leaking at his touch—I hesitated a mere blink, my desire to drop to my knees and worship him shattering all I had hoped for my future.
His punch landed on my side with enough pain my stubbornness rose with a flap of dragon wings, and growling with the need to kill, the need to fuck, goddamn need—I clocked him on the side of the side of the head. He held tight to me, yanking me down as he fell like a bag of bricks, stunned but not knocked out.
I landed on top of him with a groan, my aching dick pressed against his, a wave of desire slamming into me. “Fuck. Me,” I gasped the words, blinking once more.
A cocky grin wobbled his lips, and he shifted his hips beneath me, pressing his own hard-on against mine. “I’m usually the one in charge, but that’s one command I would love to obey.”
His low voice slithered over my skin, waking goosebumps in its path, like a physical caress, and I froze.
My mate, my beta … a goddamn, fucking Dom.
© Lynn Burke 2018
Don't forget BOOK 1 in the BLOOD BORN Series, DRAWN BY DRAGONBLOOD, available at all major retailers.
ABOUT LYNN BURKE:
Lynn Burke is a full time mother, voracious gardener, and scribbler of spicy romance stories. A country bumpkin turned Bay Stater, she enjoys her chowdah and Dunkin Donuts when not trying to escape the reality of city life.
Claire and Liam had a good thing going until he walks out of her life. Being dumped without warning is devastating enough, discovering she isn’t pregnant leaves her without even a part of him.
Withdrawing from everyone, she moves to another city and immerses herself in work, the better to forget Liam. Not that it’s working. Claire is a one-woman man, to her despair.
Back stateside after an unexpectedly long deployment, security contractor Liam Cafferty has accepted the truth: walking out on Claire makes him a coward. Thinking it for the best, given his dangerous profession, doesn’t cut it. She should have been given the choice.
With the biggest heart of any woman he’s known, he’s hopeful she might take him back and makes it his new mission to convince her.
Claire must decide what matters: her pride or taking another chance on Liam—and love.
Barnes & Noble: https://tinyurl.com/y33va2hf
The streets were full of people as she used her phone to arrange an Uber. Small groups with youthful faces, couples, and the occasional single individual moved along, their destinations unknown but likely the restaurants that crowded downtown, or maybe a club later on after dusk fell. The camaraderie left her cold, and with some desperation to escape, she scanned the curb for her lift.
Maybe she was indeed crazy, choosing to cut herself off from everyone, cutting ties with her old life, all to forget Liam. Because, newsflash, it wasn’t working. She was like one of those historical romance novel heroines who languished and withered into old age after losing a beau. Whatever empty spaces that opened up in her head, past all her attempts to fill them, Liam snuck in.
While she waited, she opened her messages, trying to shut out the people and noise around her that were reminders of a different life. There weren’t many on the phone. She had no one local to give the number to, outside of work, sad commentary. She was more like one half of those werewolf or vampire couples who wasted away without their mate.
Joanne’s number came up several times, and there was also a text. Hoping nothing was wrong, she opened it.
Haven’t been able to reach u b/phone and u haven’t responded to vms. Assuming u r busy but u should know Liam is looking for u. Call me!
Suddenly lax fingers nearly let the device slip to the pavement, and she tightened her grip. Rereading the text, she remembered to breathe and swayed on her feet.
“Claire?” His familiar voice, hard on the heels of Jo’s text, was surreal. Had she conjured him?
She resisted the urge to spin wildly and shriek at the top of her lungs. It couldn’t be. She wasn’t prepared. How was this happening?
His SUV was nose-in to the curb, the back end blocking traffic and already, impatient drivers were honking. But her attention was on the tall, broad-shouldered man rounding the hood.
He hadn’t changed at all. Unless one considered the burnished skin and a leaner look. Her stare took in his appearance in minute detail, and something in her chest lurched his way, even as her feet tried to carry her in the other direction.
Hand shaking, she held it up as if to ward off an advancing horde and shook her head. “Go away!”
About the author:
Peri Elizabeth Scott aka Allyson Young lives in cottage country, Manitoba, Canada where she and her husband pretend to work well together in their seasonal business.
She has always enjoyed the written word, and after reading an erotic romance, quite by mistake, decided to try her hand at penning one. That was followed by a mix of spicy (Ally) and sweet (Peribeth) romances in various genres as well as a post-apocalyptic adventure without a lick of romance by Peribeth.
A bestselling Amazon author, a hybrid, and a coauthor, as of April 2019 she has published eight series and several standalones, with others in the works.
She lost him seven years ago. Now he’s back in her life…and back in her bed.
April Donovan thought she’d gotten over Grant Carmichael. He broke her heart, took her feelings for granted, and chose a baseball career over her. She moved on with her life and eventually healed. Seven years later, a chance meeting throws that theory asunder, and several passionate moments rekindle the fire.
He wants her again—mind, soul, and...body
And in about five minutes, he would be strolling back into her life. Not on a permanent basis, but she would see him again, and a flood of emotions would swallow her in their depths. She’d want him, both with her mind and her heart. She would fight, and she would lose the battle.
As a settlement agent, her job was to close real estate transactions. Grant was a real estate broker who, along with his brothers, purchased houses, renovated them, and then flipped them for a profit. He had been quite successful and often used her. “April Donovan, it is you. I had wondered if AD stood for you.”
She motioned toward a visitor’s chair opposite her. “Mr. Carmichael. Please sit down.” No, don’t sit. He stood astute and gorgeous in a charcoal, three-piece suit, with a soft gray dress shirt and burgundy tie. The slim fit complemented his physique. The Grant she remembered had worn jeans and T-shirts. This version was one hundred percent eye candy.
His head tilted to the side, and his lips formed a thin line. “We have a past. No need for formalities.”
April prayed her pulse wasn’t visibly pounding in her neck. Her eyes bored into his. Damn, he’s still gorgeous. His black hair was trimmed close to his head on the sides and longer and more disheveled on top, suiting his angular face. His jaw was still strong and could probably still take a punch. She had seen it happen before. Her gaze fell to his lips—lips that could make her tremble as they moved over her skin. Heat flooded her core, and she clenched her thighs together.
She cleared her throat. “That is correct, Mr. Carmichael. We did have a past, but we have nothing now.”
His brows rose, and a slow, sexy grin turned his lips upward. “Okay. We can play it your way.” He
lowered his six-foot, two-inch frame into the vacant seat. “For now.”
Barnes & Noble: https://bit.ly/2uSz8YN
LM Spangler lives in South Central Pennsylvania with her husband, daughter, three dogs, a cat, a rabbit, and some fish. Her son serves his country in the US Navy.
She is a fan of college football and any kind of baseball and likes to watch the Discovery, Velocity, HGTV, DIY, Science, and any channel showing a college football game. She also watches old game shows like $25,000 Pyramid and Match Game.
Social Media Links:
#MCRomance #Erotic #Suspense #Series #HEA
Devil’s Outlaws 2
By Lynn Burke
Publisher: Changeling Press
World-WideRelease Date: April 5, 2019
Keywords: MC Romance, Contemporary, Erotic, Romantic Suspense, Veterans, PTSD, Alpha Biker, Military, SEAL, Series, HEA
Will Gunner choose to stand with his loyal Outlaw brothers or will he choose the path that crosses them—and leads him right into her arms?
Mitch “Gunner” Flannigan rules the Devil’s Outlaws with a firm hand, one trained by his stint in the SEALs, yet tempered by empathy for other vets. When a curvy redhead in Army fatigues snags his attention—and puts him in the line of fire—he’s torn between wanting to bury himself between her lush thighs and helping to ease her return to American soil.
The recent death of Shelby’s mother and her cousin’s terrorizing only adds to the PTSD hindering her return to civilian life. Flames ignite when she’s thrown into Gunner’s arms, where she also finds safety with someone who understands her struggles.
Attempts on Gunner’s life threaten their future, but so do the secrets Shelby withholds from him. When those secrets come to light Gunner will have a decision to make. Will he choose to stand with his loyal Outlaw brothers or will he choose the path that crosses them—and leads him right into her arms?
Warning: Contains adult content, graphic violence, and dark emotional scenarios that may trigger some readers.
Changeling Press - 15% sale: www.changelingpress.com/gunner-s-flame-devil-s-outlaws-mc-2-b-2851
Amazon Universal Link: http://mybook.to/GUNNERSFLAME
“You look like you could use some help,” I said, coming to stand in front of her. At six-foot-two, I towered over most women, but the flame-haired beauty didn’t have to crane her neck much to keep our gazes connected. Pale lashes, red at the tips, framed eyes blue as a summer sky, wide and a bit unfocused. Freckles covered her tanned skin, adding an innocent appearance that didn’t match her troubled eyes.
“G—Got a smoke?” she whispered and swallowed, the pulse in her neck galloping.
“Gave that sh** up a few years back.” My gaze lingered on her naked, plump lips. “You okay?”
“Yeah.” Her attempted smile faltered, and she ran her palms down her thighs. “Trying to adjust to being a civilian again. Crowds like this…”
Her gaze snapped up from my leather vest with its patches declaring who I was. “Army?”
She rubbed her naked lips together, and I stared. “Did you see any action?”
“Afghanistan.” I held up my hand. “Lost these two fingers, lost my ability to be a SEAL, and got an honorable discharge when my contract expired.” I glanced from one of her pale eyes to the other, trying to read the turmoil inside. “You?”
She swallowed again and nodded, glancing around.
I knew when not to pry. “I’m Gunner.” I held out my whole hand, and the touch of her soft grip raced a shot of lust straight to my groin.
Escaped tendrils of her hair blew over her freckled face in a breeze that held no hint of fall air. “Got a red ’66 Shelby in my garage at home.”
A bit of life lightened her gaze. “My father might have had a thing for mustangs once upon a time.”
“I like him already,” I said with a grin, finally releasing my hold on her hand.
“He passed a few years ago.”
My lips flat-lined, and I shoved my hands in my pockets as the desire to wrap her up in my arms and comfort her made me twitch. I was all about getting some, but the emotional connection? I sure as f*** wasn’t looking for that sh** since I had enough of my own to deal with. “Sorry for your loss.”
“Thanks.” She glanced over her shoulder and wrapped her own arms around her midsection, needing that hug my body wanted to offer even if my brain didn’t.
Deflated but not defeated for possibly hooking up with Shelby in the future, I angled my thoughts toward being her friend. I wasn’t a total douche, after all. “Do you have a support group? They’re great for helping vets like us transition back to civilian life.”
“No. I just got back home three weeks ago.”
“There’s lots of groups—I can give you some names and numbers.” I wanted to offer my own, but bit my tongue.
“I have crowd issues.” Her voice small, gaze flitting—she was similar to many such souls returning from war. “I only came down here to meet my cousin. Otherwise?” She shook her head with a huffed, faked laugh.
“A therapist, then?”
She shrugged and glanced over her shoulder as a loud truck rumbled past.
“It’s safe here,” I said, a part of me softening in ways I’d almost thought long gone from my personality since returning home and joining the Devil’s Outlaws. “Middle of D.C., people here who’ve gone through what you have, myself included, there’s nothing to be—”
Pop! Pop! Pop!
Instinctively, I grabbed Shelby and threw her to the ground behind the closest cement bench, crowding against her curled up form as burst shots sounded close by.
© Lynn Burke 2018
Appropriate or not, I rifled through Shelby’s bureau, pulling out comfortable-looking clothing rather than the sexy underthings I’d have loved to see on her body. The second she’d stripped down to a mere t-shirt, nipples pebbled from the cold air of the house, my dick had decided to fuck with the goddamn situation and enjoy the sights.
And her ass beneath those damn fatigues? Shit. Even better than I’d imagined.
I adjusted myself, teeth clenched, and made my way back across the hallway to the closed bathroom door. My soft knock went unanswered, and I opened the door enough to speak though. A blast of that herbal scent from her shampoo tightened my dick to the point of pain.
“I got you some clothes,” I said, slipping them onto the sink beside the door, keeping my gaze averted from the shower directly ahead.
“Thanks.” Her voice broke.
“You okay?” How many times had I asked her that, knowing she’d say yes even though she wasn’t? I wasn’t usually one for a loss of words. “Shelby?”
“Y—Yeah.” She sniffled a bit, and the shower shut off.
I forced myself to step back into the hall and quietly closed the door in front of me. Shelby had to be in shock—I wouldn’t put it past her to climb out of the shower without a thought of her nudity while I stood in the doorway.
Dick aching, hands clenched at my sides, I told myself she needed a friend, nothing more. Sitting on the edge of her bed to wait for her didn’t lessen the tight confines of my leathers. A bookshelf on the far wall held old paperbacks, pictures, and knickknacks, and even an old gray stuffed bunny that looked well-worn and well-loved.
I wondered at her life before that day, her childhood, what happy moments she’d tucked away in her memory. I wondered, too, at the life ahead of her and how she would cope with becoming a civilian again—alone, without family except for a cousin she wasn’t close with, and without the brotherhood-type club that had helped me.
While I expected she wouldn’t be able to handle group therapy, I knew of two therapists who would fit her in if asked. Talking her into it would be another matter altogether since most returning vets didn’t want to be seen as being weak—even though seeking help wasn’t in my book.
With a shitty family—old, drunk dad, deceased mom, younger sister addicted to pain killers—I’d been thankful to find someone who helped me unload. I’d had a few girlfriends here and there, but none of them had understood my need for the Navy and the Outlaws after getting out. I needed that companionship, that brotherhood that gave my life meaning after struggling to adapt to home again.
Shelby’s arrival in the bedroom’s doorway prickled my skin with awareness and wiped all thoughts but her from my head.
Waves of damp red hair hung to her waist. She’d gone without the bra I’d included in the pile of clothes, and the tight t-shirt revealed every goddamn curve of her plump tits, including her tightened nipples.
I clenched my teeth and tore my gaze off her before my eyes could eat up her long legs encased in dark leggings and wonder at the color of hair hiding her pussy. “Come over here,” I said, pulling back her comforter and angling my body away from hers to hide my straining erection.
She obeyed without a word, curling on her side to face me, hands folded beneath her cheek. Light blue eyes fringed with equally pale lashes with a hint of red at their tips, peered up at me as I slouched to a crouch beside her bed.
My hand moved on its own to smooth strands of her hair away from her face, and she sighed, her eyelids fluttering shut beneath my touch, her freckles stark against her pale skin. “Will you stay while I sleep?”
“If you want me to.”
“Yes. Beside me, please.” Her brow furrowed. “I—I can’t be alone right now.”
Knowing there was no way in fuck I could crawl under the covers and hold her close, I laid down on top of her comforter behind her after texting Brewer to let him know I wouldn’t be returning to the compound that night. Shelby turned and tucked herself into me the best she could considering the blankets between us and let out another sigh.
“Thank you for saving my life and bringing me home.”
“Thank you for allowing me to be your knight in shining armor.”
A huff of light laughter escaped her, and my lips responded. I pulled her closer, settling her cheek on my chest and rubbed my fingertips against her scalp.
“Promise you’ll be here when I wake?” she murmured, her voice fading.
“Promise, sweet thing. Close your eyes and sleep. I’ll keep you safe.”
© Lynn Burke 2018
ABOUT LYNN BURKE:
Lynn Burke is a full time mother, voracious gardener, and scribbler of spicy romance stories. A country bumpkin turned Bay Stater, she enjoys her chowdah and Dunkin Donuts when not trying to escape the reality of city life.
Dragged back into the human world by well-meaning friends, jaguar shifter Matteo D’Cruz realizes he’s been in cat form for over seventy years. With another transformation, he could lose his tenuous hold on his humanity. There’s no salvation for a feral shifter, only execution. Damaged by grief and guilt, he doesn’t care overmuch. However, when he discovers an unmated female shifter, he can’t resist her scintillating allure or his instinct to protect her at all costs.
Carefree Dakota Gorman travels to Brazil to rescue her sister. Determined to expose the drug lords who have manipulated her sibling into a hurried wedding, she’s certain the baffling hottie Matteo is one of them. After Dakota’s sister turns into a giant jaguar before her eyes, she must confront a new reality, one including hidden family traits.
Matteo helps her trigger her first exhilarating metamorphosis into a jaguar, leaving no doubt about her genetics, but her joy is cut short. A blackmailer sends Matteo a video of her transformation, demanding DNA samples. The extortionist threatens to post the recording to the internet and expose the shifters to the world. Dredging up courage she didn’t know she had, Dakota joins Matteo and the other jag shifters to save her family—and her new species—from scientific experimentation.
Matteo D’Cruz recognized the scent of his old friend Cristiano Salazar in the humid Brazilian Amazon. Even so, territorial invasion raised hackles across his shoulders, and he drove his claws into the bark beneath him. The sensitive lining of his nose told him Cristiano escorted two other jaguar shifters—one an impossibility--a female.
A harsh male scent polluted her essence. Mated. Adrenaline surged his heart into a gallop. The possessive warning didn’t temper her allure, as a mate’s mark should. His lack of control triggered alarms in his head, but he ignored them. Base cat instinct overruled his long-lost sense of propriety.
Matteo strained to hear her above the never-ending insect symphony. She was close. A hundred meters, or so. Mated or not, she traveled his territory, and he would have her.
God forgive me.
Driven by ages-old instinct, Matteo barked a series of courting roars into the canopy’s understory. He waited a breathless beat. No response. Rocketing from tree to tree, ignoring the branches slapping his muzzle, he raced toward the queen. Flat-out shifter speed wasn’t fast enough. Monkeys screeched a warning to the entire jungle and scampered from his path. After an agonizing half-minute, human conversation reached his keen ears, slowing his pace.
“Jaime, keep Kelsi close. Matteo’s near.”
Odd. Cristiano spoke English rather than Portuguese.
A metered growl came from the unknown male. “Papai, your friend flirts with disaster.”
“You two act like he’s dangerous. Maybe we shouldn’t invite him to the wedding.” Odder still, the queen’s Yankee English was likely her native tongue.
The sound of her voice assured Matteo he hadn’t entirely lost his mind. For an instant, he’d suspected his overlong solitude had sparked a hallucination. The soft compost layer of the jungle floor muffled her nearing footsteps.
Compelled to lay eyes on the female, he used a lifetime of hunting experience to glide through the leaf-covered branches. He aimed for a lone rubber tree where his auburn rosettes and tawny hide would fade into the two-tone ochre bark. Careful not to disturb the foliage, he peered down between green leaves.
“He’s Papai’s oldest friend and—I suspect—very lethal.” Jaime added the last with a warning tone, scanning overhead with a predator’s eyes.
The younger shifter had Cristiano’s features and jet hair. If not for the scar from his ear to his jawline, and Cristiano’s gray streaks, Matteo might have mistaken the two. The graying version of his friend restrained the young doppelganger by the arm.
In a protective motion, Jaime pulled an attractive, fair-skinned girl to him and stepped in front of her. Matteo indulged in a draught of the queen’s floral scent and then snorted to clear the male’s distasteful mark.
Jaime’s her mate! Somehow, an unknown line had produced a female. A tsunami of aggression, a primal drive Matteo had never experienced, overtook the last of his will.
The glands at the base of his whiskers throbbed, demanding release. He had no doubt he could best the younger shifter. After he won the challenge, he’d smother the queen with his scent, eradicating all trace of the cub from her body.
Meu Dios! Furious with his friend for testing him so, Matteo snarled at his murderous jaguar thoughts. He didn’t even know this Kelsi, yet he couldn’t dredge up the will to turn away from the queen.
Cristiano’s attempts to entice Matteo back into society had dwindled over the years. This time, however, he had gambled poorly. Too many seasons in cat form.
Helpless against nature’s gale force, Matteo prayed Cristiano could save his son. He stepped from cover, and fixing a predatory glare on Jaime, he roared a challenge. Even the insects fell silent.
The big male charged forward with a dark glower.
Cristiano looked up at Matteo, his mouth a firm line. “Come to us. Now.”
Matteo dropped from the three-story-high branch and sailed effortlessly to the jungle floor, landing in a crouch. With eyes locked on his adversary, he stalked low to the ground, set on attack.
Dark light shimmered across Jaime’s exposed skin, signaling his impending shift. Scowling at Matteo, he tossed his shirt and pants next to a clump of ferns. “You’ll never have her.”
Cristiano, face drawn tight with rage, hurtled to block Matteo from his prey. “You’d challenge your own godson for his mate? Kill my son? Shift now, or die as feral.”
Matteo snarled in anguish, praying Cristiano could make good on his threat.
Kelsi’s green gaze darted from him to Jaime. She lunged at Cristiano to tug at his arm. “Just leave him.”
He pushed her back, keeping his focus on Matteo. “Not possible. If his humanity’s lost, he could mate with a natural jaguar.”
“As in sire a litter?” The female grimaced in plain disgust, turning an appalled expression on him. “This is who you thought my sister should meet?”
“A selfish misjudgment. I wanted my best friend at my son’s wedding.” Cristiano’s amber eyes shone with tears. “Instead, I’m his executioner.”
Sister! Where had the females come from? The last known living queen was Cristiano’s mate, Maria. The thought of females in the world overpowered any concern Matteo had for his own life.
“Kelsi, you know genetic diversity is crucial.” Though Jaime spoke quietly in her ear, Matteo’s sensitive hearing picked up his words, as though he’d spoken aloud.
“No.” She turned tear-filled eyes to her mate. “Invite someone else, please.”
Pinning his ears back, Matteo snarled in misery and lowered to his belly. He wanted to shift, to stifle his cat, and turn from killing the men before him--his only family. Matteo’s life meant nothing. If he killed Cristiano and Jaime to steal a mated female, his life would mean even less.
To throttle back his jaguar instincts, Matteo focused on the existence of another queen. The drive to possess diminished by a fraction, allowing him to breathe and sense his humanity. Matteo grappled for the sliver of control.
With more concentration than he’d ever required before, a shift’s searing heat journeyed snail-like through his muscles until electric current chased the fever away. Every molecule in his body screamed with the metamorphosis. He couldn’t recall another shift so long or painful.
His hoarse bellow of agony rang off the thick foliage above. With his head low, and still on all fours, Matteo took stock of his limbs, ensuring he was indeed human.
Despite the jungle’s damp heat, gooseflesh traveled his torso. His skin objected to the loss of his pelt. Or maybe the magnitude of the averted crisis produced the cool shudder.
“Matteo? Are you with us?” Cristiano kept his distance.
Worried he’d lost his ability to speak, Matteo nodded. Ropes of tawny hair moved against dead leaves below him, and curtained his face from the world. Now in human form, his compulsion to claim the jag queen abated. Matteo sent up a heartfelt prayer of thanks.
Shaken by his uncontrollable reaction to the female and his sluggish change, he rose to a wobbly biped stance. He dared a glimpse of the woman. Silent, with wide green eyes, she stared at him with parted lips.
Matteo couldn’t imagine his abhorrent appearance—his nakedness being the least offensive. He scrubbed at the irritating beard itch that had replaced his feline muzzle’s glandular throb. Years’ worth of beard.
A violent urge to return to jaguar form threatened to overtake him. He forced himself to meet Jaime’s gaze and remembered the blue-eyed toddler who’d begged piggyback rides. With an iron will born of terror, Matteo smothered the urge to return to cat form.
Jaime retrieved his clothing and then stepped in front of his mate, blocking Matteo’s view of the female. Murderous lines carving the younger shifter’s face replaced all hint of the adoring child who’d called him Uncle Baddeo.
A gusty breath deflated Cristiano’s aggressive posture and a limp smile creased his face. He scrutinized Matteo from head to toe, his uncertain expression dropping to a grimace. “My God, when did you last shift? Are those rosettes?”
Matteo tracked his friend’s line of sight to his left shoulder. Rust-colored spots embedded his skin. Worse, sharp, oversized canines filled his mouth. Dios! His cat had truly overbalanced his humanity. Part of him was terrified. Another part didn’t care.
“He looks like a savage. The hair and beard might even house critters.” Kelsi whispered the insults to her mate in her Yankee tongue.
Matteo seethed. The woman must think him uneducated as well as unkempt. Unburying Brit English from his Oxford days, he sneered at her. “Don’t worry, Kelsi. I want nothing to do with you—or your sister.”
He was grateful he’d formed words; however, his voice sounded gravelly from lack of use—or a partial shift. Along with spots, he may have retained other feline traits. He swallowed, staving off a fearful shudder.
“Sorry.” Color crept into her face. At least she had the decency to look embarrassed.
Now dressed, Jaime fired a wad of clothing that slapped against Matteo’s chest. He slid on a pair of cutoffs and threw the t-shirt back at Jaime. “And you, cub, never take me on without your father’s help. You’ll die.”
To his credit, the whelp didn’t back down. “I’ll give you a pass today, old man. Instinct is brutal. But make another move on my mate, I’ll kill you.”
“Jeesh. Take the testosterone down a notch. No wonder we’re nearly extinct.” Huffing, Kelsi grabbed Jaime’s hand and pulled him toward a path leading to a narrow waterway. The trio could only have come by boat. The male glared over his shoulder at Matteo, until the couple disappeared from sight.
He turned to study his old friend. Cristiano had changed in a way Matteo couldn’t identify—subtler than a few added gray hairs. Something was missing.
Cristiano’s amber gaze warmed. “I’m glad to see you, amigo.”
Matteo wanted to enjoy their reunion, but his anger wouldn’t allow it. “I won’t forgive you.”
“I don’t care.”
“What if I’d killed you? Or worse, Jaime?”
Cristiano snorted. “You think me so weak?”
Matteo followed the young couple’s trail, and Cristiano fell in behind him. In tacit agreement, the two males kept an old woman’s pace, creating a semblance of privacy.
Cristiano cleared his throat. “How long since your last shift?”
“Not sure—sometime after I left the war. What happened with Hitler?”
Cristiano puffed air through pursed lips. “That was over seventy years ago.”
Stunned by the revelation, Matteo was grateful his friend walked behind him. He couldn’t have schooled his features. After seventy years, he’d been lucky to shift at all. “Hitler?”
“A few months after you disappeared, he killed himself in his bunker.”
“Despicable coward.” Matteo spat his disgust.
Cristiano grunted. “Probably sits at Satan’s right hand.”
When Brazil entered the Mediterranean Theatre with the Allies late in ’44, he and Matteo had volunteered together but with different goals. Cristiano, a pilot, fought from the air to rid the world of a tyrant. Matteo battled on the ground in hopes of permanent serenity. When final peace eluded him, he’d returned to the jungle.
Matteo didn’t want to talk about the war. “You still like to fly?”
“Yes. I go up almost every day. Manaus is a huge metropolis now, but still no roads to get there. Those with enough money use aircraft. Jaime flies, too.” Pride filled Cristiano’s voice.
“Bold one. He was ready to take me.” Matteo forced a smile. Jaime had been lucky to walk away. “Where did his queen come from? I thought Maria was the last.”
Halting, Cristiano sighed before resuming his leisurely pace. “Kelsi’s a gift from God. She was a latent when Jaime stumbled upon her in the jungle.”
Bewildered, Matteo slowed to pace next to his friend. “You mean latents really exist?”
Cristiano nodded with a chuckle. “Poor boy had thought females were a myth, too.”
“Hardly a boy. Must be near eighty by now.” Matteo snorted a laugh. Likely, Jaime had had his own instinct crisis and now understood how a queen devastated a male’s senses. “That explains the pass.”
Cristiano’s chuckle confirmed his suspicions.
A couple hours later, Cristiano led Matteo to a sleek motorboat. Vessels traveled the river every day, but Matteo hadn’t been near one in decades. He rapped his knuckles on the white hull. “What’s this stuff?”
“Fiberglass. Use it for automobiles, now, too.” Cristiano waved him into the padded seats.
Holding hands, and appearing to snuggle while walking, Jaime and Kelsi emerged from a patch of shade on the bank. He lifted her fingers to his lips for a brief touch. Sunlight glinted from his hand. The gold engagement band, circling Jaime’s right ring finger, taunted Matteo with what he’d nearly destroyed—and what he’d lost.
The couple’s obvious joy in one another poked at a damaged piece of his heart. Kelsi’s bruised lips and mussed hair conjured memories that Matteo didn’t dare indulge. Seven decades wasn’t long enough for some wounds to heal. In self-preservation, he climbed into the boat, focusing on the floor mat.
The ride was quiet aside from the motor and rush of parting water. Conversation became scarce after one tried to steal a man’s mate. Jaime and Kelsi spoke in low tones in the rear seat, engine noise keeping their conversation private. Most likely, they discussed Matteo.
Instead of socializing, he passed time reading an unfamiliar current events magazine--Manaus Now!. The headlines meant nothing, although he marveled at the photographs—all in color and so crisply focused. And the people in them wore so little, especially the women. At least changes in their culture would hold his interest for a time.
“We taking the river all the way to … where’re we going?” asked Matteo.
“The boat’s a rental. My chopper’s at a dock about fifteen miles downstream. We’ll take it to our home.”
“Helicopter. You’ll see. It flies.”
Of course. Matteo recalled the experimental aircraft from years ago. The noisy machines occasionally hovered above the canopy and more appeared each season. Chopper seemed an apt term.
Cristiano ferried them north, eyeing an ancient kapok tree with raised, wall-like roots dominating the shore ahead. No doubt, he recognized the ancient marker flagging the edge of Matteo’s range. Passing the boundary, he realized he hadn’t ventured beyond the tree since 1945.
Dread of the unknown settled in Matteo’s chest. He loosened his hold on the boat’s trimmed edge lest it crack under his grip. As an added embarrassment, his scent had probably announced his anxiety to the others.
In a barely-veiled attempt to distract him from the milestone, Cristiano pointed to the opposite shore. A cinnamon and black jaguar used the shadows to stalk a caiman. The gator-like reptile glided beneath the surface, its scent reaching Matteo’s astute nose.
The male jag was hunting too near Matteo’s territory. Mine.
Without thought, he lifted to balance himself on one knee. A metered rumble vibrated in his chest, and heat traveled his spine.
With knitted brows, Cristiano cut the engine and gripped Matteo’s forearm. “My friend, stay with us. Years from now, caiman will still be in the river.”
During the few beats of tense silence, the boat slowed to bob with the current. Cristiano’s subtle message came through loud and clear, though Matteo didn’t need the warning.
Decades prior, as the shifters’ Enforcer, Matteo had tracked and executed feral males—always males. Two. Killing friends lost in their cats had withered his soul. Anna, his mate, had been his only solace—anchoring him in humanity. He’d nearly condemned Cristiano to the same haunting remorse.
What have I done? Still, part of him didn’t care. For now, he would stay human for Cristiano.
Matteo’s shift to biped had been a near thing. Going cat within the next three years would almost certainly trap him in jaguar form. Followed by a swift execution as feral. Or maybe not.
He studied his aging friend. Cristiano’s physical supremacy over the jag males might have slipped over the years. Matteo doubted Cristiano could have executed him alone. Maybe with Jaime’s help.
A warm hand on his back startled Matteo. The female’s scent announced her mated status, so her touch had nothing to do with attraction. Mated pairs didn’t stray—ever.
“Hard to see through the hair, but I think he has a few more rosettes on his back.” Kelsi’s low voice held concern, not the derision he’d expected. Close behind him, she pushed his waist-length knotted hair to the side. She gave his flesh a soft pat before dropping her hand. “I get it. Caiman rile me to shift, too.”
Her olive branch gave him hope. Even more impressive, Jaime had held his possessive instincts in check while his mate touched Matteo. With their support, maybe he could face his biped sentence. Emotion tightened his throat. Avoiding eye contact, he gave a curt nod and reclaimed his seat.
Cristiano started the engine.
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Keywords: MC Romance, May/December, Contemporary, Erotic, Romance, Suspense, Series, HEA
Can Bowie cut through the blindfold of lies and surrender to the truth in his heart?
When a barely-legal blonde with a lithe, young body shows up at the Devil’s Outlaw MC strip joint to audition as a dancer, Ian “Bowie” Davies wants nothing more than to burrow between her long legs and claim her. She's too young for his dominant side though, too innocent for the sharp edges of his darker desires. And way too hot to let another man touch her -- a thought that has his hands itching to use his signature knives against any bastard who messes with his angel.
Hannah Harris ran away from home at age eighteen, desperate to escape the prison of her strict parents. Determined to delight in the sins her father preaches against, she puts her ballet talents to work, using a stripper pole to make a living. Dancing for Bowie and his blade has her panting to explore some of the “firsts” she planned to save for her future husband.
But when Bowie and his brothers attempt extortion beyond her parent’s ten-thousand dollar reward for Hannah's safe return, she's left with a difficult choice. Offer up the evidence to put the notorious biker gang behind bars, or protect Bowie and chalk the shit-show up as a lesson learned and begin her independent life anew -- without the lying bastard who owns her heart.
Can Bowie cut through the blindfold of lies on Hannah’s eyes and surrender the truth in his heart to win her back?
*Warning: Spanking, anal sex, knife play
The scent of evergreen and something warm and mouth-watering washed over me. I moved inside the office, every inch of my skin tingling.
Framed pictures of nude women, in chains and gagged, tied up and panting, lined the walls, snaring my gaze and instantaneously dampening my panties. My lips parted before I could stop them sucking in a gasp. I’d seen my fair share of porn and naughty images since lighting out on my own, but none of them had turned me on in the way the stark black-and-white images on the office walls did.
Perhaps it was the combination of the scent flooding my nose along with the images, but desire to be one of those women swept over me, and I bit my lower lip against the rush of warmth between my thighs.
“Who are you?”
A shiver slid over my skin as the sexy, raspy voice caressed my ears. I turned my focus on the brown-haired man behind the desk, and my heart seized, robbing me of breath.
Caramel-colored eyes squinted from a clean-shaven face with the most alluring lips I’d ever set eyes on, perfectly bowed on top and plump on bottom. I wanted to lick across his mouth, see if he tasted like I’d always expected my first kiss would.
He stood, and my gaze stalled on the tight, black T-shirt hugging every ripple of his upper body. My mouth flooded with drool, and I swallowed. Sinfully sexy. Hottest man on the planet. Temptation in the form of an apple like Satan must have offered Eve, and oh, how I wanted a bite.
I gulped as he rounded the desk and approached me, moving like a lion, silently stalking me, crowding in close enough my feet shuffled backward on instinct. He followed until I bumped into the door I hadn’t even heard close behind me.
I cursed myself from one end of D.C. to the other for how quickly timid, little Past Hannah took over my body, slouching me beneath his stare. I swallowed as I realized the heat in his eyes had nothing to do with anger, but pure lust, and I dropped my gaze from his, my heart in my throat.
He brushed some of my hair over my shoulder, his fingertips grazing along the side of my neck before he clasped my nape in his hand and squeezed.
A shudder rippled down through me, and I bit my lower lip to keep from moaning. My mind screamed danger, but my body screamed yes as he dipped his head, running his nose beneath my ear to my collarbone, his body like a furnace mere inches from me.
“Mmm. Cotton candy.” He nuzzled the hollow of my throat, tightened his hold on my neck, and turned my head, sliding his nose up toward my other ear while clasping his other hand on my waist. His hot breath pebbled my skin. “If I licked you, would you melt on my tongue like sugar?”
The man had complete control over me, something I vowed to myself would never happen again. “I-I think I’ve made a mistake,” I somehow managed to whisper past the thrumming pulse beneath the pad of his thumb.
He pulled back enough to look me in the eyes, his slow smile revealed a dimple in his right cheek. If not for the door at my back, I would have swooned. “You’re right where you belong, sugar.”
Oh, mercy, yes. My eyes clenched shut and I gulped.
© Lynn Burke 2018
Too motherfucking young, but it was no wonder she’d gotten past Brewer. Mile-long legs, sexy-as-fuck flared hips, pert little breasts, all wrapped in leather that screamed sex but didn’t match what her pale green eyes revealed.
The young woman who had sauntered into my office like she had every intention of dropping to her knees if I told her to disappeared the second I’d crowded close. Close enough to drop her focus to my chest. Close enough her heartbeat thrummed beneath my thumb. Close enough I could feel the purity of her soul as though her body’s energy rippled across the inches separating us.
An inexperienced submissive for sure, and she had my dominant nature kicking and screaming for release -- along with my dick strangling in my jeans. Fuck, yes.
“Look at me.”
Her eyelids snapped up, those pale eyes letting me see right into the depths of her.
“How old are you?” I asked, my smile long fucking gone.
“Twenty-one,” she whispered.
She gulped again, but held my gaze.
“H-Hannah.” She swallowed again as I smoothed my thumb up and down over her thumping artery. “Hannah Morris.”
“Hannah. A pure-as-fuck name for a pure-as-fuck little girl who should be with her mommy and daddy rather than in the devil’s playground,” I murmured, and she straightened, tensing beneath my hold.
“I am not a little girl.” Fire shot from her narrowed eyes as she all but spit the words at me.
I pressed flush against her body, grinding my dick against her hip. “Sassy. I like a little backbone in my women.”
She gasped, her eyes going wide. “Get off me.”
To the point words, but nothing other than desire laced her voice. She made no move to escape either, her hands grasping at my shirt as though hanging on for the ride of her life.
“Twenty-one, hmm? Got proof of that?” She shook her head, and I leaned in closer, my lips a breath from hers, so fucking ready to give her that ride. “So you came in here thinking you could get a job baring your tight body and fucking that pole up on stage without an ID.”
“Yes,” she whispered even though I hadn’t asked a question, her sweet breath jerking my dick in its prison.
“Gonna cost you.”
“Not sure yet.” My lips brushed hers like a feather, far from a kiss, and she moaned. “A kiss?” I suggested.
She swallowed, no longer tense but trembling.
“Mmm, I think so,” I murmured when she didn’t answer, lust and satisfaction simmering throughout my body. “But where?”
I pulled back, and her eyelids fluttered open, her pupils dominating the green of her eyes.
“Here?” I asked, smoothing my thumb over her plump, glossed lips.
“Here?” I brushed my knuckles down over the swell of her right tit, my dick jerking again at the hardness of her nipple beneath my grazing caress. “Or…”
I worked my hand between our bodies, down over the front of her leather skirt until I caressed the smooth, warm skin above her knee.
“Here?” I slid my palm up the inside of her thigh.
Another shudder rippled through her, and she fisted her hands in my shirt.
I rubbed my thumb in circles just shy of her pussy, need like I’d never known taking me to the edge of my self-control, a self-control I prided myself on.
“What’s it going to be, Hannah?” Ragged and low, my voice sent a shiver over her body.
I took her mouth in a bruising kiss, tightening my hold on her neck, tilting her head and thrusting my tongue between her lips that tasted of strawberries and cream. Not just innocent, but fucking untried in every way -- she didn’t have a clue what to do with her tongue, so I showed her, sliding alongside hers, tasting, taking until she got the hang of sucking face.
She whimpered, and beyond giving a fuck how old the little temptress was, I cupped her pussy.
Hot and soaked.
She tore her mouth from mine and whimpered.
I licked the sweet taste of her gloss from my lips and pressed the heel of my hand against her clit.
“Oh!” Lower lip between her teeth, she clenched her eyes shut, her brow furrowing as she bucked beneath my touch.
“You like my hand on you.”
She whimpered and ground against me even though she shook her head.
“You’ll like my tongue even more.” I dropped to my knees and shoved her skirt up around her tiny waist. Pink lacy panties -- so fucking virginal, I groaned. Goose bumps pebbled her legs, and I lifted my gaze, sliding a finger along the edge of her panties and pushing them aside while grasping her ass cheek with my other hand.
Hannah still had her lower lip between her teeth, eyes clenched shut, hands fisted at her sides.
“Look at me.”
Like a good little girl, she obeyed, and I held her gaze, flicking my tongue out.
Sweeter than any fucking cotton candy I’d licked before. Addictive honey…
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ABOUT LYNN BURKE:
Lynn Burke is a full time mother, voracious gardener, and scribbler of spicy romance stories. A country bumpkin turned Bay Stater, she enjoys her chowdah and Dunkin Donuts when not trying to escape the reality of city life.
“What do you think you’re doing, Tasha?” Those slowly whispered words seemed innocent enough, but she knew there was a hint of anger in them.
“Dancing,” she returned. “What are you doing, Marcus?”
“Trying to keep you from making a mistake you’d regret.” He held her tightly to his chest, never halting their movements. And just as her hands came to rest atop his, Marcus spun her around, causing her chest to plaster against his front. Tasha swallowed a gasp as he bent his face close to hers and said, “You’re not ready for what those two have to offer.”
She struggled fruitlessly against his strong hold, her temper flaring as her teeth ground together. “What the hell would you know about what I am or am not ready for? You lost your chance to find out.”
“Is that so?” Menacing didn’t even begin to describe the tone his voice held as his eyes challenged.
“That is so,” Tasha replied, lifting her chin, her gaze never leaving his. Something dark flashed between them, and she wondered where her sanity must’ve gone when she gave him a seductive smile.
Now who’s challenging?
In a split second, Marcus crushed his lips to hers, his tongue demanding entry. Tasha opened on a whimper, surprised at the intensity of this assault on her mouth. There was no escaping as he pressed firmly to her back with one hand, the other reaching for her ass, squeezing none too gently.
But Tasha didn’t want to escape, she wanted more. Rising on the toes of her shoes, she matched his raw passion, suddenly ravenous for the man as she feasted on his rich mouth that hinted of cinnamon. Pressing into him, she clawed at his t-shirt, wishing she had his skin beneath her hands. Tasha took the excitement building from their earlier encounter and let it fuel her, let it propel her to something she knew would be glorious with this man. She managed to remove her hands from between their bodies so she could clutch his head, letting him know not to move his mouth from what it was currently doing.
Marcus growled as he continued to plunder, both hands pawing her ass and grinding their bodies together. There was no doubt his body was aroused, but he pulled away abruptly, staring at her with uncertainty.
“Tasha,” he rasped, “we’re playing with fire.”
“Do you want me or not, Marcus?” She practically panted while she massaged the tense muscles in his neck.
“Do you really need to ask?” He pressed into her, the heat of his straining erection radiating through the barrier of their clothes.
“Then why don’t we do something about it?” She gently pulled his mouth to hers, kissing him sweetly now. As much as she loved the fierce and wild, she wanted a slow burn, a lasting fire with a few explosions now and then. Okay, maybe more than just a few. And it seemed Marcus did as well as his hands gently cradled her face while he returned her kisses with such tenderness she wondered if this was the same man who had nearly come undone just moments ago.
He pulled away and stared, his eyes softening, questioning. Then he said, “Let me take you home.”
Laura M. Baird
Wife, mother, former U. S. Army sergeant, and dental hygienist, I can now add published author to the list. I’m slowly transitioning out of hygiene, hoping to make writing a full-time endeavor. After writing for many years, my publishing dreams came true (at the age of 50!) in August of 2017. Since then, I’ve had the fortune to work with four publishers, connect with fantastic people, and am constantly learning on my journey.
A voracious reader myself, I strive to write stories I can be proud of and enjoyed by many; ones that are not only sexy and fun, but thoughtful as well.
I grew up on the East Coast and now reside on the West Coast, having lived in Florida, Georgia, South Carolina, Massachusetts, Idaho, and Washington State. Hubby and I hope to fill our passports with stamps from many destinations, Scotland and Fiji being at the top of the list. We’ve raised two sons who make us proud. And when not writing, I’m reading, doing house projects, and simply enjoying time with hubby.
re to edit.
Amazon page: https://tinyurl.com/y98u9mva