The spotlight is on Linda Andrews today with her new release, Brianna.
lies, and an ancient Egyptian curse. Brianna Grey holds the key to mankind's
destruction and someone is willing to kill for it. Having spent most of her
life dying, one man's kiss has resurrected her desire to live. For US Treasury
Agent, Duncan Stuart, love means death. He works alone, lives alone and plans
to die alone until he meets Brianna again. Under the harsh Egyptian sun, Duncan
will break all his rules to save her but will it be enough to overcome the
secrets that could get them both killed?
can ye hear me?” Panic fed the primal rage bucking through Duncan. He bound the
fury. A treasury agent had nerves of tempered steel, control of iron. A white
lock rested on her pale cheek. Peppermint-scented breath slipped past pink
lips. She was fine. She had fainted, nothing more. Nothing more.
she had not wakened.
had thought she would be accustomed to violence, especially after the tales she
told of Arizona.” Miss Phillips’s whine sliced through his musings.
man had been murdered, poisoned in front of a roomful of wealthy, influential
witnesses. August would have been the likely suspect—it was his valet, after
all. Except, he couldn’t have known his servant would be in the room, let alone
would drink from the glass. So who was the intended victim?
laid Brianna on the plush carpet and knelt beside her. He brushed her bangs out
of her eye, sweeping aside the feather headdress.
who was the poisoner?
might have spied something if he hadn’t dallied over his evening dress, and
what had his delay accomplished? Not a bluidy thing. His hair still stuck up a
little in front. As for the noose around his neck, he could feel the ends
brushing his jaw.
it, Brianna, wake up!”
Stuart?” Esmé pried apart the Van Sargents. Worry pinched her features,
increased the pitch of her voice. Two men in ship’s uniform squeezed through
behind her, parting the assembled crowd. An elderly man in a somber suit
appeared and set a black bag on the table.
the newcomers, Duncan leaned close to Esmé’s ear. “Has Brianna eaten anything
flashed in her brown eyes. Her gaze flicked to the corpse before meeting his.
señor. The dinner, it has not been served.”
nodded. Relief flooded him.
believe she has fainted.”
are smelling salts in our room.”
you a doctor, sir?” Curry and garlic permeated the air as the elderly man who’d
arrived with the ship’s crew creaked to a stop beside Duncan. He leaned over
Brianna with his ear near her mouth. “Peppermint,” he whispered, straightened
then peeled the glove off her left hand. His index finger settled comfortably
against the inside of her wrist. “An admirable heartbeat.”
nae a doctor.”
yet your prognosis is undoubtedly correct.” The man peered at Duncan over the
gold rims of his spectacles. “The ladies do like to lace tightly, don’t they?”
His Adam’s apple bobbed in the wattles of his throat. “Smelling salts should
set Miss to rights. You’ve sent the companion to fetch them, hmm? ”
won’t be necessary.” Sir Reginald stepped forward. “Mrs. Van Sargent, the
salts, if you please.”
grabbed the small glass bottle—he didn’t trust the missionary any more than he
did the others. Glass scraped glass as he plucked the stopper free. Ammonia
invaded his nose, stripped the moisture from the back of his throat. Definitely
smelling salts. He shoved them under Brianna’s nose.
winced, turned her head and coughed. Her eyes flickered open.
are very much mistaken.” She shoved herself into a sitting position, tucked a
stray lock of hair behind her ear and straightened her bodice. “A Grey does not
alright, dear.” Mrs. Van Sargent tucked the bottle back in her purse. “I
daresay, if Mr. Stuart hadn’t caught you you would have crashed right into the
caught his eye. At the doctor’s nod, the burly crewmen lifted the body. Duncan
shifted his weight to block Brianna’s view. Her lips parted; her eyes grew
round. He had acted too late. She had seen the corpse.
man.” She pointed to the blanket-draped body with her bare hand. “He...”
to death,” Van Sargent added with relish.
a terrible tragedy,” said Miss Phillips, dabbing her dry eyes.
Reginald doesn’t think it will prolong our stay aboard the <i>Osiris.”
skin crawled as Mrs. Van Sargent beamed down at them like a goddess spreading
he—“ Brianna’s nails dug into Duncan’s arm.
to death.” He kept his voice firm, his tone final. Brianna had been around
death most of her life, was intimately acquainted with most of its faces. He
wouldn’t allow her knowledge to get her killed.
had that feeling that you’re drowning? Suffocating. Panic tightening your
throat as you come closer and closer to deadlines? Yeah? That is exactly how I’ve
felt the last few weeks.
severely neglected my blog, give or take a few fabulous spotlights by fellow
authors, but other than that, I’ve been too swamped.
seems to be happening NOW and it’s all urgent and needs dealt with yesterday. All
my social networks have gone down the pan, my social life is non-existent and sleep…sleep
is something I used to do.
I just say this is not an ‘aw poor me’ post. I’m chuffed to bits and wouldn’t
change a thing for the world!
why am I feeling like this? Well…
up, I had my final line revisions for my October release, The Monster of Fame.
But, my editor did mention it was the last chance I had to change anything so,
of course, I read it meticulously. Twice.
I received edits on my other (we’ll say January) release, Isle of Sensuality. I’ve
to get these back in three weeks. It’s been so long since I’ve read this, and
can’t wait to get stuck in to Cait & Jake’s story. Unfortunately, that’s
not all I have on just now…
editor at Mills & Boon approved the partial I’ve been working on for RIVA,
and the full is due by the end of September! Alexa & Enrique’s (Ric) story
is set in Marbella, and Alexa is mid-girlie holiday. She’s a bit wild, very
bubbly and doesn’t have much of a filter on what comes out of her mouth.
Needless to say, I already love her! Ric’s a bit harder to peg, but he’s a
work-a-holic, has a shady past and needs a PA for the next month. After ending
up in her knickers in his penthouse, then embarrassing him at a glam charity
doo when he’s networking, Ric decides to punish Alexa with the role as his
dogsbody. Still ironing out the details on this one, but having such fun
and I can’t forget Never Say Never, the second book in The Price of Fame series
(The Monster of Fame being the first). I’m having a tough time getting to know
Sander. He’s emotionally shut off—or so he thinks—but his actions contradict
his thoughts. I love Chloe, the heroine. I’m really getting to grips with her
as a character. She’s kind, self-less, but still has hang-ups and flaws. I can’t
wait to get dug into their story, but looks like it will have to go on the back
burner for a while.
lots to do and so little time! Thought I’d stop by and let folks know I’m alive
though! Will come up with a spectacular post soon though, full of wonderful
advice and everything I’ve learned thus far. Promise :o)
Another fab read from Lacey Wolfe. Can't wait to get stuck into this one!
Read on to the bottom and enter the raffle to win a copy!
Bound by Pleasure by Lacey Wolfe
Can Megan let her guard down enough to experience the pleasures Greg has to give?
Megan thinks she knows all about the BDSM lifestyle. Her best friend is active in it and she is an erotic romance author who writes about the lifestyle. So when Megan decides to explore it first hand, she learns quickly that everything she thought she knew, she didn’t.
Greg isn’t your typical Dom. He’s an artist and his life is anything but organized. He likes Megan from the start. She’s honest and he sees something in her. The more time he spends with her, the more he finds himself acting in ways he never has before. He decides to see if she might feel the same way, but the more he pushes to get her to open up, the more it seems she’s stepping away.
Can Megan sort out her feelings before it’s too late?
Turning off the car, Megan grabbed her purse. She quickly checked her makeup and hair in the rearview mirror. It was now or never. Taking a deep breath, she climbed out of her car and headed for the front door. The house was gorgeous and the yard was well taken care of. Once she made it up the stone walkway, she saw that the door was ajar. Strange.
She pushed it open and called out and was greeted by a deep voice that echoed from somewhere in the back. He directed her to go to his study which she would find to her left.
Well, she had made it this far, and he knew she was here—there was no turning back now. Once again she took a deep breath, and she made her way to his study. The door was closed when she found it, so once inside the room she made sure to shut it back.
Megan couldn’t believe the sight of his office. It was in complete disarray. Not one bit of organization. There were half started paintings on canvases scattered here and there, and piles of paper stacked on the bookshelves and desk. Perhaps it was best to get out of there. She couldn’t understand why Dawn had recommended him. This was not what she’d expected at all.
Right as she was about to leave she heard the doorknob jiggle. Her eyes widened as she wondered what to do next. Should she meet him on her knees? Or simply take a seat in a chair since this was only an interview? She opted for the chair and sat just as he walked in.
It took every ounce of Megan’s self-control not to let her mouth drop open when she saw the man who presented himself in front of her. Once again, this was not what she had expected. In strutted a man in loose, ripped jeans and a baggy t-shirt. He had sandy brown hair that was long and tied back in a ponytail. His eyes were crystal blue. A gorgeous smile was plastered on his face as he took a seat directly in front of her on a bar stool.
“You must be Megan,” he said.
“I am.” She had no idea how to address him or what to say.
“I apologize for keeping you waiting.” He reached over and took a piece of paper from the pile on his desk. “I looked over your application, and I see that you only have a little experience in this lifestyle. Have you ever had a Master?”
“No,” she responded.
Greg’s eyes drifted up and down her body. If she wasn’t feeling self-conscious before, she definitely was now.
“Is something wrong?” he asked.
“You have to be honest with me or else I won’t even consider you. Trust is very important in a relationship such as you’re wanting to enter into.”
Taking a deep breath, she blurted out, “To be frank, you’re not what I was expecting.”
He chuckled. “Continue.”
“You’re so laid back, your office is not organized, and well, as I said, you are not what I was at all expecting.”
Lacey Wolfe has always had a passion for words, whether it’s getting lost in a book or writing her own. From the time she was a child she would slip away to write short stories about people she knew and fantasies she wished would happen. It has always been her dream to be a published author and with her two children now of school age, she finally has the time to work on making her dream come true.
Lacey lives in Georgia with her husband, son and daughter, their six cats and one black lab who rules the house.
I’m thrilled to have
Elise Whyles on my blog today with a sneak peak at her newest release. This
book sounds HAWT.
Five Alarm Lust by Elise Whyles
Survivor Gillian Hilliard is finally healing from a
nightmare past. Fearing no man will ever find her attractive, she hides behind
simple attire and large glasses. When Gillian meets firefighter Jack Payle, she
is instantly attracted, and enjoys a wild night of sex with him. But in the
cold light of day she’s torn apart by guilt and shame, and retreats to the
familiar comfort of her simple, if unfulfilling, life.
After years of chasing the wrong kind of woman, Jack
is shocked by the instant attraction he feels for the mousy historian with
shadows in her eyes and passion simmering beneath her surface. Jack can’t get
past the lust firing his blood or the memories of her response to his touch,
for passionate, sexy Gillian is everything he’s ever wanted. Are they strong
enough to face down the demons haunting Gillian? Can she trust the man who
holds her heart with her darkest secrets and accept his help to overcome the
shadows of her past? Or will the darkness destroy them both?
“That’s it, Miss Hilliard. As per your
request, I left most of it down.” The young woman leaned down, her hand on
Gilli’s shoulder. “You’re going to knock ’em dead.”
Gilli offered a short, weak laugh and patted
the girl’s hand. “Thanks.” She slipped her glasses on and rose to totter toward
the door on the stilettos her mother persisted she wear. As she exited, the
door closed behind her with a click. Gilli turned, smacking face first into a
tall, hard wall of flesh before her. Heat seared her body at the touch of his
hands on the bare flesh of her back. Putting a couple of inches between them,
Gilli glanced upward. Her heart dropped before galloping in place.
Dark brown hair curled over a tanned
forehead, green eyes as dark as pine stared at her, bemusement sparkling in
them. “Excuse me, miss.”
She shuddered at the slow drawl curling like
a lover’s touch into her core. Her labia pulsed beneath the lace of her
panties. A flush crept along her throat to heat her cheeks and she ducked her
head to hide the wave of color washing over her face. She cleared her throat.
“No, pardon me. Entirely my fault.”
Scurrying down the hall, she gasped at the
sensitivity in her breasts. Heavy, full, the nipples throbbed beneath the
layers of satin and lace. Desperate to cool her blood, she darted past a couple
of women and into the ladies room. The thin metal door offered minimal
protection as she locked herself into a stall. A thud filled the silence as she
let her forehead drop and leaned against the icy metal and inhaled.
above, Zeus in the flesh right before me. What I wouldn’t give to have him …
but he’s not going…Arousal scorched along her
veins, pooling between her legs and soaking her underwear. Like venom, her ex’s
sneering tone filled her mind. You
couldn’t turn a light bulb on, Gillian, sexless. You should get a boob job.
The soft clunk of the heavy public bathroom’s
door opening preceded Barbara’s biting tone. “Gillian, don’t think I didn’t see
An uneasy cringe escaped in spite of the
relief at the shattered memory. Gillian squeezed her eyes shut. “Mother, can I
not use the facilities without you harping at me?” Gillian smoothed her skirt
down, rolling her shoulders forward in the hopes of hiding her erect nipples.
“I’ll be therein a moment.”
“Well hurry up, they’ve already got everyone
seated. Goodness, child, you’d think you’d remember this was my wedding!” The
bathroom door clicked shut on her mother’s tirade.
With a roll of her eyes, Gillian stepped out
of the stall, shot a look at her reflection in the mirror and inhaled.
“There’s no point in getting hot and bothered
over the likes of him. He ain’t going to want you.” Gilli waved a hand at her
reflection, a perfect imitation of her mother. “Horn-rimmed glasses,
mousy-looking hair, notits. Didn’t Mike teach you a damn thing, Gillian? Men
don’t want a mouse, they want a sex pot and you’re not it.”
With a quick shake of her head, she smoothed
her skirt down, sucked in a deep breath, and pulled open the bathroom door. She
glanced around carefully before darting into the hallway.
Pressed close to the wall, she took her place
before her mother, feeling like an over-stuffed Easter egg as the wedding march
began to play. A smile pasted on her face, she gripped the flowers in her hand
tighter and began the slow but steady shuffle toward the preacher.
Focused on getting there without falling,
Gilli gasped at the man standing next to the altar. Laughing green eyes watched
her, his lips turned upward at the corners. A slight shadow covered his square
jaw. The dark suit he wore clung to his broad shoulders, tucking in at his
waist. She wondered if beneath his suit coat, his ass was as good as the rest
of him. Embarrassed, she stepped back, narrowly missing tripping on her own
gown’s hem. Her mother’s pointed clearing of her throat drew her attention to
the woman sashaying along, the yards and yards of tulle and lace out of place
on a woman in her fifties—who’d had six previous husbands and more lovers then
Gillian thought healthy. The unspoken warning in Barb’s eyes pierced clearer
than any shouting match could be. There would be hell to pay if any attention
slipped from the bride.
“Typical.” Gilli glared at the flowers,
disgust rolling in her nauseous gut. She offered a prayer the ceremony would
draw to a quick end so she could ditch the shoes, the flowers, and find a quiet
corner to relax in, with the help of an expensive bottle of champagne.
She shot a glance across the aisle, heat
suffusing her face when she caught sex in a cummerbund’s eye. Screw the
wine—what she wouldn’t give to get lost in him. Maybe if she’d been different…
Pushing aside the vague thought, she focused on the drone of her mother’s voice
as she spoke her vows.
in a small community, Elise Whyles lives in Canada with her son and husband.
She’s currently working on the next book in the Canadian Heros Trilogy as well
as the next book in the paranormal romance series Forsaken. Elise writes in
multiple genres, paranormal, contemporary, erotic, m/m. To learn more about her
or to drop her a note please stop by her website.
I’m thrilled to have Kristy Centeno on my blog today
with a sneak peak at her new release, Call of the Wolfe! On a hot scale of one to ten, this sounds sizzling...
Call of the Wolf by Kristy
When desire battles with the forbidden and passion
overrules obligation, at the end of the night, which will win?
Victoria Bonvalet, a purebred werewolf, has no desire
to mate to an alpha not of her choosing and after a one of a kind encounter
with the mysterious blood lord Tristan Garland rattles her existence, she knows
that she could never share any part of herself without love being the number
Tristan, a vampire of over a thousand years, no longer
cares much for the world or the creatures inhabiting it. But when he meets the
beautiful she-wolf invading his deep woods territory, he realizes that it’s
never too late to find your perfect match, even if she belongs to the opposite
branch of all mythological beings. But even as they begin to explore their
in-depth feelings for each other, can they find a way to be together without
starting a war between two enemy species?
Even as she took several steps towards her car,
Victoria could still sense it getting closer. The scent emanating from this
being wasn’t one she was used too. It was different, unique somehow. It was not
unpleasant by any means, just different. The incredibly fast speed in which it
traveled was another clear indication of its supernatural origins. No human on
earth could move that fast. Victoria was certain of two things, this being
wasn’t human and neither was it a werewolf. Then what could it be?
Victoria refused to be afraid even though she did not
comprehend the nature of this being. It was different from what she was used
to. All she had to do was identify what it was. Normally, she would rely on her
keen sense of smell for that, but since she didn’t recognize this scent, it was
nearly impossible to pinpoint what it was. The only supernatural creatures she
was familiar with were her own kind, werewolves. But this thing hiding back
there was no werewolf, of that she was absolutely sure.
Once Victoria was close enough to her vehicle, she
stopped and turned to face the woods. It was dark out but she could see her
surroundings very clearly. A slight breeze picked up, bringing this unknown
being’s aroma in to fill her nostrils. It was strong and male, very male. If
this being were a werewolf he would most certainly be an alpha, a powerful one
at that. But this was no huge puppy, this was something else.
Victoria surveyed the area with her eyes. So far she
detected no movement which meant this thing was still too far away to see. But
it was getting closer by the second. The speed in which it traveled made her
slightly uneasy. Werewolves were known to move fast but this thing moved faster
still. She could sense it moving, gliding through the forest as if it was
flying. She was utterly amazed by it and she hadn’t even seen it/him yet.
Victoria waited, her eyes focusing in on her
surroundings. Her she-wolf abilities ready to strike if this thing presented
itself to be a threat. She gripped her car keys tightly in anticipation of what
would happen next. She waited patiently for it to show itself. She wasn’t
looking for a fight, she didn’t want to ruin her outfit, but if push came to
shove she wouldn’t hesitate. She was a she-wolf, therefore she was a fighter.
She could defend herself quite readily. She didn’t need the pack to protect her
despite her father’s beliefs.
Victoria’s eyes narrowed when she caught movement up
ahead. At first, it seemed like one big blur moving from one side to another
but then it started to get closer. The woods seemed to disappear as all she
could see was this black and white mass moving towards her. She couldn’t make
out any features because of the speed in which it traveled. Her entire body
tensed as she readied herself for a fight. If this thing attacked her she would
fight back. There would be no hesitation at all to use all her armor, and she
was well packed.
Soon, the white mist finally appeared before her, a
tall figure was now clearly identifiable. Victoria gasped as she caught sight
of a man standing not twenty feet from her. She blinked several times to make
sure her eyes weren’t playing any tricks on her. She noted, after opening and
closing her eyes for like the tenth time, that there really was a man standing
nearby. He didn’t move. He just stared at her with as much intensity as she was
gazing back at him.
Even in the darkness encasing them both, she took in
every distinctive feature of his. He was tall, as tall as the trackers from the
pack usually were. Shoulder length hair as white as a hand full of snow framed
the sides of his face. His eyes were a shade of blue so pale, they appeared
almost translucent. Unusually whitish skin and a lean and well-muscled figure
finished his physical description.
His inhuman eyes assessed her in much the same manner
she did him. Victoria watched as the breeze toyed with his hair, bringing a few
stray locks to caress his right cheek. Werewolves tended to have unique
features but this being was unique even for her. His white hair, pale skin, and
clear eyes made him look like a marble statue. Had it not been for the few
strands of hair being tossed around his shoulders by the light breeze, she could
have easily mistaken him for one.
“Who are you?” She managed to ask at last. “What are
His eyes narrowed as she spoke but he said nothing.
“What do you want?” She asked angrily when she noted
he refused to answer.
The man took several steps towards her then stopped.
He cocked his head to one side as if he was having trouble hearing her.
Victoria did not flinch or move as he approached. There was no need for her to
back away like a frightened kitten. She refused to show any form of fear. Not
that she feared him; she was more intrigued than anything else.
“I was once known as Tristan Garland,” His voice
startled her; it sounded so deep and gruff that she couldn’t help but think
that perhaps he used it very little.
“Why are you following me?” She dared to ask.
The being now known as Tristan eyed her with
“I do not follow you.” His eyes narrowed as he glared
at her. “You invade and hunt in my territory.” He stated simply. She couldn’t
tell whether he was angry or not. His passive face revealed nothing of what he
was thinking. “You are the one trespassing, not I.”
As a child, Kristy used to lose herself in an
imaginary world by the means of a good book. Now that she’s all grown up, she
gets to create her own fictional realms and make them come to life in ways that
most readers might not expect.
always been a passion of hers but she never had the opportunity do so until
now. After trying out numerous options, she realized that writing was what she
loved the most and so she decided to give it a shot. As it turns out, her very
active imagination helped her achieve her goals of creating believable plots
with some ordinary, and some not so ordinary characters that move the stories
along in one way or another.
As she keeps achieving her dreams of becoming a
published author, she divides her time in between four children and a very
Grant is joining me on my blog today as part of her book tour for Male Review.
I started on this blog tour I was told write about anything. Surely it’s easy
for a writer to write about anything. Or
maybe not. I much prefer to hide behind
my characters and my books than write about myself. I think most authors prefer
to sit in a room by themselves and invent lives for other people.
lives I create are so much more exciting than my own. I spend my days stuck in
an office doing boring stuff with numbers and tax legislation. The biggest
excitement we get is when the muffin lady shows up or we get a fire drill. As
soon as it hits one pm I rush to my car, drive to a nearby rooftop carpark and
break out my netbook to escape to another world. I have no idea what the people
who come and go with their groceries and other purchases think I am doing shut
in my car, CD player blaring as I sit hunched over tapping away. The dirty
concrete and steel disappears as I am whisked away to Rio or Sydney or some
other exotic location where I meet up with the funny, eccentric and sometimes
sexy people who frequent my imagination. When the hour ends I am sent back to
reality to count the minutes until the working day is over and I can once again
torment the cast of my latest novel.
I am working on Hot Male, Book Three in my Reigning Men Series.
One, Male Order is the story of my hapless heroine Meg. Sleeping with her flatmate, Sam had been a
mistake–becoming a strip club manager’s pimp was adisaster.
Two, Male Review continues Meg and Sam’s story. A nymphomaniac octogenarian great aunt, a
frigid mother, and a BDSM male strip club, what could possibly go wrong?
Book Three, Hot Male is in final reviews.
Sam Stephens and Meg Riley are in
love, and finally on the cusp of sex anytime, anywhere, anyhow. That is until
Meg’s Great Aunt Maud, the octogenarian nymphomaniac, gets tossed out of the
old folk’s home and moves in with them, closely followed by her polar opposite,
Meg’s scarily frigid mother.
Meg’s best friend Laura
convinces Aunt Maud to invest in Male Review, a BDSM-themed male strip joint.
For Meg, it’s just one more step along the path to disaster, made even worse
when former prostitute Michael is hired as the bar manager. After all, Laura’s
last venture ended with Meg being arrested as a pimp. And Michael’s to blame
for the crazies invading Meg’s home, and even worse, he still has the hots for
If she wants to get her
life back, all Meg needs to do is find a new home for Maud, resolve the dispute
between her warring parents, keep Michael at arm’s length, and rescue her
relationship with Sam before it disintegrates completely. Male Review appears
to be just one more problem to deal with, but perhaps it could provide an
Meg rolled her eyes as a
loud snort rent the air. She lifted her head, smashed a fist into her pillow,
and glared at the comatose old woman lying next to her. This wasn’t how things
were supposed to work out. Once Sam declared his undying love for her they
should have ridden off into the sunset together. Instead, they jumped into her
compact Korean car and hustled around to the old folk’s home to meet her
Clearly it wasn’t her fault
that St. Andrew’s had tossed Aunt Maud out. The whole disaster had been down to
Laura and her stupid idea to start a male escort business. Meg went to the
hotel to try and fix things. Given a few more minutes she would have un-cuffed
Michael Monaghan from the bed and persuaded Aunt Maud elderly ladies had no
need to use the services of a male prostitute. She might even have recovered
Michael’s clothes so he could get dressed. Thank God her mother arrived at the
old people’s home after the police left and she never got the whole story
behind Maud’s eviction. Although, having her mother yell and show
disappointment in her debauched daughter might have been a quicker and less
painful punishment than agreeing to let Aunt Maud move in with her and Sam
until she found a new home. To date, every old people’s home in Sydney,
Australia had turned the crazy old lady away.
Meg’s mind turned to her
new beau. They’d been on the cusp of sex any which way, anywhere, any time, and
then, when Aunt Maud showed up, the sex fest was over. She couldn’t sleep in
his bed because Maud would know what they were doing and Meg would be horribly
embarrassed. How was he coping? Sam had needs. Big needs. Often needs. She
hadn’t heard yips of “yee-haw” coming from his room since Aunt Maud moved in a
month ago, so either he was suffering from a case of blue balls, or he’d
learned to jack off quietly. The thought of him lying in his reclining chair
naked with his fist wrapped around his hard, hot, heaving cock sent a heat wave
through her body and a definite dampening in areas that had no business being
damp when you shared a bed with your eighty-something great aunt.
Another loud snarl made Meg
sigh loudly and check her alarm clock. She hadn’t planned on getting up until
after eight as, on top of everything else, she didn’t have a job to go to, but
sleep was impossible. Maybe an early morning snack would help. Yes, she was on
a diet, but everyone knew calories consumed before seven in the morning didn’t
count. Besides, she might check out the gym where Sam worked later, purely for
exercise purposes. The thought of Sam and exercise wouldn’t cool her down, but
Ben & Jerry were more than up to the job.
She climbed out of bed and
dragged on her robe. One last look at Sleeping Beauty, sans teeth and wig,
assured her Maud was dead to the world and she should get going while the
getting was good. The door squeaked on its hinges, but Aunt Maud continued to
saw logs. Meg pulled the bedroom door closed behind her and relaxed. In the
last thirty days the only time she’d been without Maud was when either of them
went to the bathroom. Except the hour she left her with Sam while she went to
buy groceries. That hadn’t ended so well. She’d found Sam’s whimpering and
begging never to be left alone with Maud again quite disturbing. The old girl
seemed to think men were game for sex twenty-four seven, and Sam usually was,
but not with octogenarians who had a penchant for pinching butts and ripping
towels off freshly showered men.
Meg crept down the hall,
through the living room, and into the kitchen. The place shone. No one would
fault Maud on her work ethic. She had cracked the whip for hours, only stopping
her nagging when Meg had cleaned every surface until they could eat off it. So,
she was a bit slap dash about housework, and Sam was no better, but who cared.
Now the place didn’t feel like home at all.
After retrieving a large
spoon from the cutlery drawer, Meg opened the freezer and bent over to find her
favorite flavor made by her favorite men. Just as she reached inside to pull
out a tub of Chunky Monkey, two hands splayed across her back and something
rigid buried itself in her arse crack.
She’d recognize Sam’s
particular brand of foreplay anywhere. He had a thing about bending her over
and taking her from behind, but she wasn’t so hot on the idea with her head
buried in the freezer and Maud likely to walk in at any moment. The old lady
would never believe she had a platonic relationship with Sam if she found him
buried up to his testicles inside Meg. Once her mother found out she had taken
up sleeping with her male flat mate Meg would be moved into a nunnery, or Sam
tossed out on his ear before either of them had a chance to explain. Her mother
didn’t do sex, and neither did the rest of the family, if she had anything to
say about it.
God, Meg was beautiful. How
she could think otherwise escaped him. The sight of her abundant curves sent
Sam’s already thumping pulse rate higher. Unable to believe his luck at finding
her alone, and in such a seductive pose, he leaned forward and wrapped his arms
around her still bent form. He slipped his hands inside the front of her robe.
The fingers of his left hand edged inside her panties on a seek-and-plunder
mission between her thighs, while he used his right hand to tweak her left
nipple into surrender.
Maud was a pain in the
arse. All his good work at not only finally seducing Meg, but getting her to
lose her inhibitions, was coming unraveled. He missed her. His cock missed her.
The bed felt empty when she wasn’t in it. Never before had he felt this way
about a woman, but Meg was the one. He’d fallen hopelessly and passionately in
love with her and he wanted to show her … hard and often.
Heat spread through his
body. Oh, she felt so good. He fingered the dampness between her thighs and
brushed his thumb over her nipple. Her breast was heavy in his hand. Her
womanly curves sent a rush of desire straight to his already straining dick.
She was his perfect wet dream. Warm, soft, and the girl had a mouth to die for,
but that could wait for next time. He had no idea when he would get another
opportunity like this. He growled in her ear and tugged her robe up the back of
her legs, desperate to bury himself inside her.
She wriggled out of his
grasp and he groaned his disappointment. His stallion bucked at the gate waiting
for the starter’s orders. The feisty bugger would put an eye out if it broke
free of his very tight white boxer briefs.
He took a deep breath. “I’m
Meg glanced at his bulging
“We can’t. Maud might come
Sam growled, “Fuck Maud.”
A giggle escaped Meg. “I’m
sure she’d be a more than willing partner and at least you could get some
relief.” She popped the top off the ice cream and filled the spoon. Maybe she
hoped the cool dessert would bring them both back to their senses. She offered
him the first taste. “Here, have some ice cream instead.”
He took the spoon from her
and slipped it seductively between his lips then pulled it back out and slowly
licked the remaining dessert from the stainless steel surface. The way she
licked her lips and swallowed showed his actions were getting the desired
reaction. Encouraged, Sam reached out, took the tub, and refilled his spoon. He
leaned forward and brushed his ice cream cooled lips against hers as he
Meg squeaked out, “Not
yet,” then followed him as he disappeared through the house.