by Maya Banks
he wanted more. All of her, all the time.
At work, Billy usually found himself daydreaming about her, anxious for the clock to move the little hand to the six, the large hand to the twelve, so he could get off and finally get to see her.
But Hannah was so guarded, spoke so little about herself. Maybe at one point in his life, more than one woman had annoyed the hell out of Billy by going on and on about what she needed, how everyone including her parents had failed to give it to her, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera. But where Hannah was concerned, Billy wanted—no, craved with every fiber in his being—to know more.
He wanted to know whose pictures had occupied the empty photo frames in her living room. He wanted to know who’d inspired her to paint that blinding, violent masterpiece he’d seen yesterday. He wanted to know why she’d let Billy inside her body, but not her mind, her heart.
He wanted to know her, damn it!
This arrangement sucked.
“This is just sex, occasional, no-strings, and certainly no involvement beyond,” she’d said that second time they’d “bumped into each other”.
“That’s fine by me,” Billy had said. And it had been fine—for like five days. Now it wasn’t fine. Nope. It was not fine at all.
And the message Hannah was getting across wasn’t very heartening. She was flirting with Lance, leaning close to him, whispering into his ear, right in Billy’s line of vision. And as much as Billy hated watching her, his cock felt like a baseball bat. His balls were heavy, an aching pain inside his underwear.
He narrowed his eyes, bile rising up his throat. She was trying to drive him away. Trying to show him they didn’t mean anything. He didn’t mean anything. Of course.
Clenching his jaw together, he rose to his feet and set his drink down on the chair seat. Damned if he was going to sit here all evening watching her. Damned if she thought she could drive him away. And damned if she wasn’t asking for it.
He wound his way across the lawn, ignoring a string of salutes and inquisitive gazes as he headed for her.
Now Lance chuckled over something she said and Billy seized the moment to draw up behind her. “I know what you’re trying to do,” he murmured into her ear, cupping her hips and letting her feel his erection—the erection she had given him. “You’re trying to make me jealous, drive me away, aren’t you?”
She’d gone stiff. Mute.
Well, good. Because he wasn’t through talking.
He grazed her earlobe, his voice but a whisper. “Guess what, Hannah? I am so hot for you I’m near bursting. Even if you go on and fuck him, I’m still not going anywhere.” He pressed a wet kiss to her ear, his lips lingering against the delicate shell of her earlobe. “I’m in for the long haul.”
“Billy, please, not here.”
He barely heard the words; she spoke so low.
“Not here? Are you afraid of a show, Hannah? You’re doing fine all by yourself—you’re so hot you’d come now if I touched you, wouldn’t you? It excites you…my watching you.”
“Yes.”
A shudder coursed through Billy at that breathy word, lust tightening his muscles. “Ask him up to your room.”
“No, I—”
“Look at the front of his pants, sweetheart. He’s hard for you. You’ve been working him all night. I’ll bet if I stick my hand under your dress right now, you’d be wet as a seal. You want to fuck him. You want to see if he can make you feel what I do, don’t you? You want to try someone else, see if he does anything for you?”
“Yes, yes, all right, I do!”
In this heat wave, anything and everything goes.
Heat of the Moment
© 2008 Elle Kennedy
A Red-Hot Summer story.
Shelby Harper has lusted over Navy SEAL John Garrett for over a year, but no matter how many sexy signals she sends out, the man shows a complete lack of interest in getting naked. Then she overhears Garrett talking to his SEAL teammate—a discussion in which they conclude she’s vanilla. Stung, Shelby sets out to show them exactly how un-vanilla she is.
Garrett can’t believe it when sweet, sexy Shelby suggests a wild and sweaty ménage. He’s been trying to figure out how to ask her out without coming off as a guy who only wants to get in her pants—her friendship is too valuable to him to risk it. But if a crazy, heat-wave three-way is what Shelby wants, then he’s ready and willing to give it to her.
Once she gets it out of her system, however…well, then he’ll let her know he wants her all to himself.
Warning: This title contains two dangerously hot Navy SEALS and a heroine determined to get it on with both of them. Be prepared to take a cold shower (or maybe two) after reading this heat-wave ménage.
Enjoy the following excerpt for Heat of the Moment:
Carson’s soft whistle broke through the silence. “Jesus, Shelby,” he hissed out. “You’re fucking gorgeous.”
Heat spilled over her cheeks. Both men were completely dressed, and there she was, standing in front of them without a stitch of clothing so they could openly admire her. And under their scrutiny, her nipples tightened, her breasts grew heavy and a rush of moisture pooled between her legs. Maybe it made her the slut of the century, but she couldn’t wait to get started.
Evidently Garrett felt the same urgency, because before she could blink he had stepped toward her and was pulling her naked body to his clothed one. She stared at his mouth, knowing her excitement was written all over her face. “Kiss me,” she whispered.
He quickly complied, pressing his lips to hers. His mouth was hot, firm, insistent. Oh yes. Carson had kissed her like he had all the time in the world, his mouth lazy, but Garrett was more intense. His kisses were rough and hungry and passionate, as if he wanted to devour her. Well, she wanted to devour him too. So she did, sucking hard on his tongue and shamelessly rubbing against his lower body.
Breathing hard, she tugged on the hem of his T-shirt and pulled it over his head. Underneath the shirt, his chest was all muscle, a wide expanse of hard ripples and smooth golden skin, with a dusting of light brown hair leading to the waistband of his cargo pants.
Her mouth went dry, her hand unsteady as she reached out and touched that incredible chest. She brushed her finger over one of his flat, brown nipples, eliciting a ragged sigh from his throat.
She was trying to decide if she was bold enough to lower her head and suck on his nipple when she felt a warm pair of hands stroking her bare back. She nearly jumped, then realized it was Carson, obviously eager to join in the fun.
Oh God, this was surreal. Her naked body sandwiched between these two big men, Carson’s hands squeezing her ass, Garrett dipping his head and kissing her again. Shivers of arousal danced up and down her spine, and a resulting moan slid out of her mouth.
Garrett chuckled softly, then planted his hands on her waist and turned her around, pressing his groin into her ass as Carson filled her mouth with his tongue.
She could feel Garrett’s erection nestled between her ass cheeks, and when Carson pulled her closer and parted her knees with one hard thigh she could feel the ridge of his arousal too. She sighed, pushing her ass against Garrett and reaching down to rub Carson through his khakis.
“Take your pants off,” she murmured.
She was addressing both of them, but Carson was the only one to reply. He offered her a lopsided grin and muttered, “Do it for me.”
She found herself glancing over at Garrett, who simply glanced back, his dark eyes flickering with raw heat. “Don’t keep the man waiting,” he said with a faint smile.
Drawing in a slow breath, she tugged at Carson’s zipper. It lowered with a metallic hiss.
Shelby hesitated, unsure of what to do next. This was all so new to her, the entire experience seeming more like a figment of her dirty imagination than a real-time occurrence.
“Help me out here,” she said with a nervous laugh. “What comes next?”
Carson’s blue eyes twinkled. “I do.” He to
ok her hand and guided it inside his pants. She took another breath, gathering every ounce of naughty courage she possessed, and finally wrapped her fingers over his cock and started stroking him.
He groaned, and she saw him fumble with his waistband, attempting to push his pants down. “Help me out here,” he mimicked, his features taut with unrestrained lust.
Sinking to her knees, she pulled down his khakis and boxers, wondering if the blood drumming in her ears was a result of the tequila she’d drunk downstairs or the hard cock that sprang up against her face. God, he was big.
She circled his tip with her index finger and he shuddered. “Shit, that’s nice,” he said hoarsely.
She shifted her head and saw that Garrett was now leaning against the arm of her old patterned sofa. He was still clothed, still watching her with those sexy dark eyes.
She squeezed Carson’s shaft, then met Garrett’s gaze at the same time she took his friend’s cock into her mouth.
Summertime…and the living is steamy in Hotlanta.
Lady Sings the Blues
© 2008 Mallery Malone
A Red-Hot Summer story.
Alina Gabriel has hit on the perfect formula to make her club, The Scarlet Lady, the hot spot in Atlanta’s night life. Men flock to see her alter ego, retired exotic dancer Miss Scarlet; and women line up to see Joshua Hanover and his blues band steam up the stage.
Alina herself isn’t immune to the blind guitarist’s sensual songs and musical dexterity, but she refuses to be just another notch in his groupie belt.
That is, until Joshua debuts a new song, “Red-Letter Woman”, to entice Miss Scarlet to dance. The song and dance leave them both hot and bothered, and when Alina retreats to her office for personal relief, Joshua joins her and offers to strum her desire.
But Joshua wants more than a one-night stand. He’s pushing for an encore, and Alina wonders if it’s her he’s after—or her exotic persona.
Warning: This title contains sensuous solos, decadent duets, dirty dancing, and a man who’s really good with his hands.
Enjoy the following excerpt for Lady Sings the Blues:
Damn. He had to issue a challenge. She never backed down. Ever. It was her stubbornness as much as her business aptitude that made The Scarlet Lady a success. And her love life a mess.
The only other thing she couldn’t seem to resist besides a challenge was Joshua’s voice and the mesmerizing play of his fingers.
As if reading her thoughts, he stretched out a hand to her and gave her a smile as smooth as jazz. “Come here,” he repeated. Only this time, his voice was soft, full of promise and seduction and sin. Just as it was when he sang.
She slid both feet to the floor and stood. Keeping her eyes on his face, she moved around the corner of her desk until she stood in front of him.
“Sit on the edge of your desk,” he ordered.
She raised her eyebrow at the tone, not that he noticed, then sat. “Well?”
He shifted his chair forward, pushing her thighs apart. “Put your feet here,” he requested, patting the sloped armrests of his chair.
Alina complied, mesmerized by that voice, the promise of his fingers. The balls of her feet balanced on the edge of each armrest as her thighs fell open for him. She briefly wondered how long she could keep her balance like that, then decided she’d hold the position for as long as it took.
Pure challenge filled his grin. “Why don’t you lean back? You’ll still be able to see what you need to see.”
She snorted in response and was rewarded with a low chuckle. “I promise, I won’t let you miss any of the show.”
She didn’t know what she expected him to do next. Certainly not make her wait. She watched his hand, strong, long-fingered, sweep over her boot. From the pointed tip to the stiletto heel, back up over the laces to her knee.
“I’ve become very tactile,” he told her as his hands skimmed up her knees. “This is the way I see.”
She had to swallow before she could speak. “All right, you’re free to look all you want.”
His fingers stroked over her thighs. “Just look?”
Little electric pulses zinged through her, heightening her need for him. “God, I hope not.”
“Good.” His hands moved over her skirt. “Wow, that is a blink of a skirt, isn’t it? No wonder those guys were screaming at the foot of the stage.”
“You had your share of screaming fans,” she felt compelled to remind him. “I think a few of them lost their panties.”
His fingers dipped between her thighs. “So did you.”
Alina’s heart triple-beat as his thumb brushed over her pussy. Desire ramped up another notch as she whispered his name. The whisper became a gasp of protest as he continued “looking” at her, rising from the chair as his palms skimmed up the front of her Chinese brocade corset.
“May I?” he asked, his fingers hovering over the hooks running down the front.
“Please.”
He took his time unhooking the busk, working his way from top to bottom. She took a deep breath as he eased the corset away from her breasts, then lost it again as he lowered his head to brush his lips across her belly button.
She thrust her fingers into the lush thickness of his hair, closing her eyes as his lips roamed up her belly to her breastbone, leaving fire in his wake. So focused was she on his lips that she gasped with surprise when he cupped her breasts.
“Joshua.” Her head lolled back as the string-roughened pads of his fingers stroked over her already hard nipples, tightening them further. His mouth warmed her skin as his lips traced her throat, her chin, her cheek.
Finally, oh God, finally his right hand slid down her belly to stroke her clit. “Kiss me, Alina,” he demanded. “Kiss me like you did onstage.”
She curved an arm around his neck and plastered her mouth to his, kissing him with everything she had. She’d been on a slow burn and he’d just thrown kerosene on the fire.
“Have you ‘seen’ everything you wanted to see?” she asked against his lips.
“God yes.” He pulled away from her long enough to fumble free his belt and unzip his trousers.
“Good.” She made quick work of the buttons on his shirt then pushed his trousers and boxers down his hips, freeing his cock to her gaze.
“Happy birthday to me.” She stroked the hot, hard length of him. God, he was the perfect size for fucking, and not overly thick. What would it feel like to have him filling her ass? The thought made her breathless.