by Sierra Dean
In that moment, any thoughts of might disappeared, and Emmy knew she loved him. She’d known, really, since the trip to Chicago. But seeing him look at her in the harsh morning light—with no makeup and terrible hair—and still be impressed…well, he must be crazy about her.
He touched her again, tentative at first, then greedy, exploring her exposed skin with his palms fanned wide. He tucked his fingertips into the waistband of her jeans, grazing the top of her ass and making her shudder with unrestrained excitement. With each new area he traversed, Emmy’s brain became cloudier, wondering how she’d resisted him for so long and how stupid she’d been to live without this in her life.
Withdrawing, he shifted his attention to her breasts, cupping each mound with a hand so large even her C cups looked small being held by them. He rubbed her peaked nipples through the sheer lace fabric of her bra, sending another shock wave directly to her core. No one had ever managed to get her so wet, so quickly, with most of her clothes still on. It was as if Tucker’s every ministration was attuned to her, and he knew the wants of her body better than she did.
The work they did together on the field had proven she understood the mechanics of his body, and she’d used that knowledge to make him a better pitcher. What could he do to her once he’d learned the finer details of her form? She was eager for him to know her that well, and yearned to know him better than she already did.
Tucker dropped to his knees on the kitchen floor, his tousled brown hair all she could see when his head settled between her breasts. He hugged her waist possessively with one arm, locking her to him, and with his other hand he lowered the cup of her bra. He teased her nipple with short, hot licks, drawing it into a tight, almost painful nub, and latched his mouth on to it.
Emmy shivered as he worked her with his lips and tongue, burying her hands in his soft, messy hair. When her knees buckled, he kept her upright with his arm, and she ended up kneeling on his thighs. Never once did he stop teasing her nipple, and Emmy hadn’t known she could feel so much pleasure from the most basic foreplay.
It wasn’t enough, though.
Her whole body pulsed with a need so demanding it throbbed in her ears and blotted out all sound except for their twin heartbeats.
“Bedroom,” she rasped.
No holds barred. No mercy. No going back…
Hard Way
© 2013 Katie Porter
Vegas Top Guns, Book 4
Throughout their eight-year marriage, U.S. Air Force Captain Liam “Dash” Christiansen and his wife, Sunita, stayed strong through long separations. However Sunny’s new job as a high-profile legal advisor puts a severe strain on their enduring bond.
Her abrupt announcement that she wants a divorce is like a missile to Dash’s gut—but her confession that she’s met another man is what unleashes his shocking passion. Sunny is surprised and nearly repulsed by her body’s reaction to Dash’s animalistic attempt at complete possession. That doesn’t stop her from craving more.
With Sunny’s whispered approval, their sex life explodes. Not only does Dash’s aggression tap into dark fantasies, she’s hopeful that now, at last, she’ll get what she’s always wanted from her devil-may-care, don’t-give-a-damn husband. Something honest and candid. Something real.
Yet fiery, carnal encounters won’t heal two long-broken hearts. Their bodies are finally speaking the same forbidden language, but it will take more than taboo desires to learn each other for the first time—and to save a marriage that’s only just begun.
Warning: Time to put the kidding aside. Although 100% consensual between a husband and wife, this book contains violent sex that, in some scenes, will appear forced. Readers sensitive to rape scenarios should proceed with caution.
Enjoy the following excerpt for Hard Way:
The quiet beep of her alarm the next morning was useless. She’d been lying flat, staring up at the coffered ceilings, where white-painted molding outlined boxes of pale yellow. Sunny had painted the ceiling herself. Liam had offered to help, but life kept getting in the way until she’d pulled out the buckets and the ladders while he was off at some exercise.
It hadn’t felt like a big deal at the time.
Lying there, she couldn’t help but see the contrast with I would give you anything. Maybe he’d give her anything when it came to his dick.
Too much of her wanted to believe he meant it.
She got up and went about getting ready for work—all the usual stuff, along with aching legs, stiff shoulders and a sore ass. The lightweight linen pantsuit was the best she could do to hide the evidence—not because she feared they might get caught, but because she wanted to keep their night close and private. Theirs.
At least it was Friday. She would only need to hide it for eight hours.
Then what? It wasn’t as if facing a weekend alone with Liam meant she’d be healed by Monday—healed in any sense.
Emerging from the bedroom, she tingled with the same heightened awareness she’d experienced the night before when stepping out of her office. The hair stood up across the back of her neck and her hearing flared. She was prey leaving the safety of her den, sneaking out as if a taxi were her only escape route.
The house wasn’t exactly quiet. It ticked and sighed with all the usual noises of a house she knew intimately. The refrigerator hummed and wind whistled around the eastern cornice.
No sign of Dash.
He wasn’t asleep in the living room, so maybe he’d left early. He’d taken to folding the blanket and topping it with a pillow after crawling off the couch for each of the five mornings.
Maybe he’d… What, took a taxi himself to go get her Acura? Headed to base in some turnaround means of spiting her, leaving her to her own devices. One was generous, if a little over the top. One was too easy for her mind to latch on to. Dash, letting her down.
She curled her hand around the handle of her attaché case. The leather smashed into her flesh—not cutting, because the case was too well made for that. She could use a bite of pain to keep her jaw from locking.
Trailing her hand down the cool wall, she waited for something. The cab’s honk? A sign? So damn stupid. A few feet more and she’d be free for the day. She could bury herself in work and let everything else go away.
Just over three weeks now.
A pair of steps from the door, she heard him behind her. Not heard. Felt. The skin between her shoulder blades prickled. The air shifted and weighed heavily against her skin.
“Where are you going, Sunny?” His voice was low. Gravelly.
That was what she’d been waiting for.
She didn’t look back. Her tongue slicked over her bottom lip, and there was no denying the way her body clenched and readied. A flood of moisture dampened her panties. Her expensive, pretty pink panties, which matched her lace balconette bra. She was such an idiot, holding on to secret hopes and wants that she hadn’t stopped to examine. She’d wanted to be pretty. For him. Just in case.
But she still played along.
“I’m going to work.” She lifted her chin and put as much attitude as she could into her words. She reached for the brass door handle. Let him come for her. Let him try. “You can’t stop me.”
That quick.
Between one breath and the next.
She’d turned the knob when the slam of their combined weight made the door shake in the frame. Her already-raw knees burned where they ground against the wood. The oval leaded glass shuddered.
He was bare from the waist up. Jeans were hitched around his hips, but what pressed against her torso and bent over her shoulders was pure skin. Smooth, healthy, tanned skin. He was warm with sleep.
She managed not to shiver.
His head bowed low, and he nudged her neck with his chin. Tousled hair tickled her ear. “You’re not going anywhere. Thought you would’ve learned that last night. You go where I let you.”
His bare foot shoved between hers, his thigh pressing hers apart. She tried to surprise him
with her heel—lifting and slamming down. His reflexes were too fast. He jerked back at the same time as he pushed his upper chest more firmly against her back. She was pinned.
“You’re a mean little whore, aren’t you?”
She ground her teeth and tried to headbutt him. She caught him across the temple, but he didn’t even sway. Her insides clamped in a happy little lost-girl response. This was what she wanted. Being completely dominated meant she could give up her choices, let the world fall away and scream her goddamn head off.
She wasn’t going down easily.
After throwing her case to the side, she dropped to her bruised knees. Pain spiked up to her hips, but she didn’t let it slow her down. She kicked.
He caught her ankle. That grin. Oh fuck, that grin. It did wicked things to her pussy, making her heated and soaked and ready.
“Uh-uh, Sunny,” he said. “Don’t be a bad girl.”
She couldn’t help but grin as well, which quickly turned into a laugh. Maybe a giggle. It probably sounded hysterical. “Fuck off, Liam. Don’t do this. I’m going to be late. Again.”
He put one bare foot on her other ankle. She thought about trying to jerk him off balance, but he caught the direction she was looking. “Nope. Won’t work. You’re too small. I’m too well centered on my other foot.”
“You beast.”
His smile was positively lethal. She couldn’t look straight at him, but looking anywhere else meant swaths of bare skin and strong torso. He held her ankle at his hip in a seemingly casual grip. Lean muscles twitched and pulled.
“Okay, fine. You wanna play a different game, Sunny?” He spoke with latent threat. “I’ll let you go. If you manage to get all the way down the hallway without me pinning you…well. You’ll win. And you know what won’t happen.”
Her first response was no. She didn’t want to play. Because shit, he was right. What if she won? This felt like a choice, and she didn’t want choices.
But she nodded.
The moment dripped like cold honey—him watching her and her watching him, and her breath catching in her throat as she waited for him to blink and let go.
He stepped away from her ankle and released her leg. She flipped. Scrambled to her sore knees. Her elbows protested. Even a well-aimed donkey kick didn’t save her.
First she felt his fingers inside the back of her slacks’ waistband. The tight pinch across her waist snatched her breath. She tried to evade, slip sideways. He knew her too well. She slapped backward, connecting with his cheekbone.
He shoved her down. Her breathing jerked into overdrive. White stars bloomed across her eyes.
With his hand like a vise between her legs, he pressed his mouth against her ear. She’d expected his growl of victory, but she hadn’t anticipated the shivers it pushed across her skin.
“I win.”
Chasing Kings
Sierra Dean
A porn star and a bookseller walk into the same BDSM hotel room suite…
Samantha Hart wishes things would stop happening in Vegas when a case of mistaken identity lands her in the Hard Rock’s racy Provocateur suite—an S&M wet dream that’s occupied by an honest-to-God porn star. Ethan Silver’s reputation should put her off, but his naughty charm and wicked-sweet smile have her agreeing to a night on the town. Then wishing for a night in, as well.
Ethan knew the instant he stepped through the door that this wasn’t the Samantha Hart he was almost desperate to see. Yet he can’t help it. He wants to ease the blushing bookseller out of her shell and show her a good time…and not just in the bedroom.
As a hot night on the Strip turns into a hotter night at the hotel, Ethan begins to prove there’s a good guy under his bad-boy façade. There’s a loan shark hot on his tail, though, and only Sam can help keep his movie-star face intact. But telling her the truth could cost him something he needs more than money. Her love.
Warning: Contains a bad boy porn star with all the right moves, a good girl who wants to go bad, and one wild week in Vegas.
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This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.
Samhain Publishing, Ltd.
11821 Mason Montgomery Road Suite 4B
Cincinnati OH 45249
Chasing Kings
Copyright © 2013 by Sierra Dean
ISBN: 978-1-61922-012-6
Edited by Sasha Knight
Cover by Angela Waters
All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
First Samhain Publishing, Ltd. electronic publication: December 2013
www.samhainpublishing.com