“Damn, woman.” She rolled her eyes. “What is it with you and the melodramatics today?”
Sera hurried from the bathroom into her bedroom. She wasn’t lonely. The fact she didn’t really connect with anyone made little difference. She had her cousin. Sure, he was a bit of an oddball, but at least he didn’t give her a hard time about always feeling cold no matter how hot the day, or teasing her for wanting to constantly be in the sun. At least he didn’t call her “lizard” like her work colleagues did.
She liked her life the way it was, thank you very much. She was doing exactly what she wanted to do—looking after reptiles. One big reptile, in fact. Despite what her fellow animal keepers called her behind her back, how many people in the world could say they cared for a Komodo dragon?
And how many could say they’d been kissed senseless by a stranger in the street? A tall, dreamy, gorgeous stranger who didn’t faze her cousin’s dog and scared the crap out of a cop? A mysterious man who would bring her to climax after climax after climax if given the—
“Oh, for Pete’s sake.” The exasperated groan fell in the silence of her room and she dropped onto the edge of her bed. “Now you’re freaking hornier than you already were.”
This was ridiculous. She wasn’t normally like this. What was going on? Anyone would think the guy had worked some freaky voodoo magic mojo on her to make her so obsessed.
Letting out a sigh, she slumped back on the bed. Her pussy throbbed with the fading echo of her recent orgasm. Her clit still felt tender. Swollen. What she really wanted now, right now, was her stranger between her thighs, sucking on it, licking it. Nibbling on it with not-so-gentle bites before lapping at her—
Sera’s belly flipped-flopped and she caught her bottom lip with her teeth. She truly was a skanky ho, it seemed. An insane, skanky ho with an obsession for a guy she didn’t even know.
“Again, I say brilliant. Freaking brilliant.”
She lay motionless for a long while, refusing to touch herself no matter how much her body demanded she do so. Her body was a slut. As it had proven today. Once she got herself under control, she’d pull on some clothes and head over to work. It was almost dark. She didn’t normally take the long cross-city commute to the zoo come nightfall and the zoo’s sole Komodo dragon, a cantankerous reptile by the wholly silly name of Puff, certainly wasn’t expecting her. But she felt the need to go see him anyway. See him and take comfort in his ancient presence.
Okay, now you really do sound insane, Sera. You need to—
Her doorbell rang.
She snapped upright, bending her body into an abrupt right angle. The towel dug into her armpits and she let out a little yelp, and another—the latter from ridiculous nerves when the doorbell rang again.
So are you going to go answer it?
It rang again. And a fist pounded on the door. An insistent fist.
Sera pushed herself to her feet and ran for the door. It made no sense, of course, especially when wrapped only in a damp towel, but she had to answer the door. She had to. A warm tension in the pit of her belly demanded it. Told her to run to the door, fling it open and throw herself into the arms of the man every fiber in her being, every molecule in her body, told her was standing on the other side. Throw herself into his arms, wrap her leg around his hip and kiss him until—
She stopped herself from yanking open the door half a heartbeat after her fingers wrapped around the knob. What the hell was she doing?
Pulse pounding, mouth dry, pussy aching, she looked down at herself.
The towel had fallen from her body somewhere between her bedroom and the front door. Her breasts were swollen and heaving, her nipples hard and puckered. Her belly was doing some bizarre, hitching dance, as if it knew what was about to happen and couldn’t wait.
She sucked in a sharp breath, dismayed and, quite frankly, more than a touch worried, and let out a soft groan. The air smelled of her pleasure. She was so ripe, so ready to be fucked she could smell her own need.
And even with that horrifying realization, even at the sight of her naked body, at the feel of her juices on the tops of her inner thighs, she was still about to pull the door open. Because on the other side was her stranger, her psychotic kisser. She was sure of it. Completely sure. And she so wanted to be kissed by him again. Kissed and fucked and claimed.
Holy moly, woman, what is wrong with you?
She jerked her hand from the doorknob as if it was a snake. An angry snake. Took a step back from the door.
Stared at it.
Heard her blood roaring in her ears, like the hungry call of a creature from her dreams.
The doorbell rang again and she gasped.
“I can hear your want,” a man called from the other side of the door, his deep voice muffled by two inches of steel-cored wood. “Just as powerfully as I can smell it.”
Sera gasped again. She scurried back, stare locked on the closed door. He was here. Holy fuck, how could he be here?
Doesn’t matter. Open the door and let him in.
She shook her head. “Not by the hair on my chinny-chin-chin,” she whispered.
“I’m not a wolf,” he called from the other side.
Sera didn’t just yelp this time, she squealed. She stumbled back several more steps, mouth open, ready to tell whoever her stranger was to go the fuck away, when her heel came down on the towel so conveniently on the floor behind her. Soft Egyptian cotton slid over polished wood, and before she could save herself, the world slipped under her and she landed on her arse. With a thud. And another yelp.
“Fuck, that hurt!”
The door slammed open before the exclamation could finish bursting past her lips, the sound of splintering wood drowning out her cry a second before her mysterious stranger stormed into the house and scooped her from the floor.
“What the hell are you doing?”
Her question squeaked from her. There wasn’t really any other way to describe the way the words came out of her mouth. She squeaked them, like a trapped mouse. Except no mouse had ever been held naked against a chest so broad and hard, by arms so strong and perfect. Oh God, were they strong. And perfect.
Reality hit her.
“Put me down!”
She thrashed in his arms, far too turned-on for her sanity. She writhed and bucked until, with another shout, she tumbled from his strong, perfect arms to her feet. God, she was all about making stupid noises today, wasn’t she?
She hit the floor with a solid thud, bounced on her feet, stumbled sideways and scooped up her towel as she went. For a surreal moment she saw herself in all her naked glory—damp hair lashing around her face like red strands of rope, boobs jiggling, arms and legs waving about. For another surreal moment she thought thank freaking God I waxed yesterday, and then she was backing up against floor-to-ceiling mirror, knotting her wet towel around her chest and glaring at the man currently standing in her house.
“Who the hell do you think you are?” she spat out between ragged breaths.
Eyes the color of midnight studied her. He didn’t take a step. He just stood motionless, his tall, imposing, dominating body decked out in snug, faded Levis and a black polo, his gaze trained on her through an artfully messy tumble of glossy raven-black hair. “I—”
She didn’t let him finish. “How did you find me…are you a stalker? Are you stalking me?”
He shook his head, a pained expression flashing across features that were way too gorgeous not to be unnerving. “No,” he said, and Sera ground her teeth at the hungry way her body reacted to the deep timbre of his voice. “But I need to—”
“Fuck off,” she snapped, narrowing her eyes. “That’s what you need to do. Why the hell did you just break in my door if—”
“I heard you fall and hurt your—”
“That doesn’t mean you can—”
“Listen, you need—”
“Get lost, creep! And to think I just masturba—” She slapped her hand to her mouth. Oh Jesus, had she r
eally almost said what she’d been about to say?
Her stranger—stop it! He’s not your anything!—cocked his head to the side and took a step toward her. “What did you just do?”
Sera smooshed herself closer to the mirror and cursed her idiocy—one, for backing her bare butt against a solid surface, limiting her escape options, and two, for opening her big, idiotic mouth. “Take another step,” she snarled, fighting to keep her anger, “and you’re in for a world of pain.” She should have been furious and petrified and panicked. Instead, the closer her stranger came, the more she wanted him, as if she were a cat to his funky-arsed catnip.
Cat, mouse…what other kind of animal do you purport to be this afternoon, Sera? Goat? Monkey? Lizard?
Her stranger’s eyes seemed to shimmer with a burnished heat. “I like the sound of that last one.”
Sera’s mouth fell open. He didn’t just read her mind. No way. “Okay, seriously, take one more step and I’m kicking your balls in!”
A small, crooked grin curled one side of his mouth. “One more step and I’ll have you flattened to that mirror with my mouth on yours.”
A wave of traitorous heat rolled through her, tight and delicious and…wrong. This was so wrong. A strange man was in her house, had broken into her house and seen her naked—God, held her naked. He’d kissed her, stalked her back here and now she was horny? Again? This couldn’t be any more wrong.
So why does it feel right, Sera? Right on every damn level?
She narrowed her eyes. And then said the most ridiculous thing she’d ever uttered in her life. “Try it.”
His nostrils flared. “Okay.”
He moved. With wholly unnatural speed.
One second he was several feet away, the next he was pushed against her, his hands pinning her wrists beside her head, one thick, hard thigh rubbing between her legs. Rubbing over her clit. Stimulating it. Teasing it.
“H-how…” she began, her voice barely a croaking whisper. “How did you…”
“Because I’m a dragon,” he stated on a low murmur, gazing into her eyes, “and you’re my Fire Mate.”
And then his mouth did indeed claim hers. Thoroughly.
Note from Lexxie
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About Lexxie
Award-winning romance author Lexxie Couper started writing when she was six, and hasn't stopped since. She's not a deviant, but she does have a deviant's imagination, and a desire to entertain readers with her words. Add the two together and you get erotic romances that can make you laugh, cry, shake with fear, or tremble with desire…sometimes all at once.
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eBooks by Lexxie Couper
Visit Lexxie’s website at
http://www.lexxiecouper.com
Stimulated, a Contemporary Romance series
1. Blowing It Off
2. Revving It Up
3. Switching It On
4. Plugging It In
Heart of Fame, a Contemporary Romance series
4.5. Compliance
5.5. A Single Knight
8.5. Combustible
9. Balls Up
10. Lust’s Rhythm
The Boundaries, a Science Fiction Romance series
1. Assassin
2. Agent
3. Animal
Savage Australis, a Paranormal Romance series
1. Savage Retribution
Fire Mates, a Paranormal Romantic Suspense series
1. Sera’s Dragon
2. How to Love Your Dragon
3. Crouching Tigress Horny Dragon
4. Scorched Desire
Dangerous Desires, an Erotic Contemporary Romance series
1. The Bad Boy Next Door
2. The Good Girl In My Bed
Stand-Alone Titles
The Stone's Soul
Shadow Whispers
Copping a Feel
Kat and Mouse
Lexxie recommends … Mari Carr & Lexxie Couper
Outback Princess
Farpoint Creek Cattle Station, Book 1
Mari Carr and Lexxie Couper
Prologue
Annie: Mornin’ sunshine!
Dylan: G’day, love. How’re things in your neck of the woods this evening?
Annie: Long-ass day. Started with rain. Ended with rain. The middle bit was filled with my boss calling me Princess in a staff meeting. Grrrrr. I may end up killing him soon.
Dylan: Don’t kill him. I’m too far away to bail you out.
Annie: LOL. Thanks for the offer, but Monet’s already promised to have my back with the bail money.
Dylan: I think I like this Monet.
Annie: Yeah. She rocks. Actually, she might be the only thing rocking in my world these days.
Dylan: That doesn’t sound good.
Annie: It’s not. You ever been sick of your life, Dylan?
Dylan: Me? Sick of life? Nope. Sick of Hunter at times. The bloody bastard’s been giving me a hard time about chatting with a woman in America again. I told him if he says another word, he’s dead.
Annie: Careful. I’m too far away to bail you out. Snort! Sometimes I wish we lived closer.
Dylan: Me too, love. But let’s be serious, a city girl wouldn’t last a day in the Outback.
Annie: What? You must be joking. I’d last a hell of a lot longer on your little ranch than you would in my big city.
Dylan: Station, Annie. Station. We don’t own ranches Down Under. Do you reckon you’d handle the snakes in the loo?
Annie: I deal with the rats in the sewers just fine.
Dylan: I’ll accept your offer of rats in the sewers and give back crocs in the river and spiders on the toilet seat. How’s that sound?
Annie: Deal.
Dylan: Two days. I’d give you two days before you were on a plane heading back to New York. Me, of course, well…I’d make one hell of a city boy. Blend in like I was born and bred there.
Annie: You wouldn’t last a New York minute, tough guy.
Dylan: I tell you what. Let’s see who outlasts the other. A Yank in the Outback or an Aussie in New York. Next week. Game?
Annie: Game on.
Dylan: Let me take a look at the flights online.
Annie: LMAO. Are we seriously doing this?
Dylan: I’ve never been more serious in my life. Okay. I’ll see you in four days, city girl. This Saturday. Qantas. Sydney International. One p.m.
Chapter 1
Annie Prince sank on to one of the hard plastic seats at Sydney Airport, giving in to exhaustion. She looked down at her very wet, now defunct iPhone—she vowed she’d never text on the toilet again—and decided this trip had been cursed from the word go.
In the past twenty-four hours she’d run the gamut of emotions—anger, frustration, annoyance, disappointment, excitement, happiness, sheer panic and now…nothing but numbness.
She studied the hubbub of the airport again. How the hell did she get here?
She’d roamed the International Arrivals area for nearly an hour before giving in to the realization he wasn’t anywhere to be found. Dylan wasn’t waiting for her.
When she’d replayed this scenario in her mind three thous
and, four hundred and twenty-seven times—it had been a long-ass flight to Sydney—she’d always seen him standing in front of the crowd of families and friends waiting to welcome loved ones home. In her mind’s eye, he’d been smiling widely, holding flowers, maybe even a balloon. She’d imagined he’d give a true cowboy woot when she stepped through the doors and every woman around them would watch with jealousy as he rushed over to pick her up, spin her around and kiss her.
Instead, she’d watched all her fellow travelers receive those warm welcomes while she stood completely alone, in a foreign country.
How the hell did I get here?
She closed her eyes wearily, thinking of that fateful night when she’d met Dylan online, the night that had set her on this misguided, insane path.
It was all Monet’s fault.
“I can’t tell you how much better I feel. Thanks for coming over, Monet.”
“Wine cures everything,” Monet announced. “You know that.”
She and Monet had been neighbors in their high-rise Manhattan apartment building for nearly a year. They’d met on the elevator the day Monet moved in, and had clicked. Their friendship had flourished through numerous nights of drinking, broken hearts and, “oh my God, I just had awesome sex” chats.
“It cured my lousy day.”
Monet topped up her wineglass. Annie winced when she noticed it was empty. Hadn’t she just filled it up a few minutes ago?
“Damn.” Monet squinted at the bottle. “That one went fast. Should we go for broke and make it a three-bottle night?”
Annie giggled. “Sure. Why not? My hangover is pretty much guaranteed at this point.”
“So what’s wrong?”
“My boss skipped over me for another big assignment, the paparazzi were out in full-force this afternoon and I dumped Joel.”
Monet reared back. “That’s a lot of shit for one day. Let’s tackle this one at a time. Your boss is a prick. Why are you still working there?”
“Because it’s one of the few magazines in New York my father doesn’t own. You know how I feel about making it without his help.”
Plugging It In Page 12