by Olivia Brynn
“I want to feel you come.” He released one breast to reach farther down to her slick clit.
“Yes. Please, Marc.”
“Bring your knees up. Give me room to play with you here.” He brought his weight back onto his bent knees as she lifted off the bed to him. He braced himself on one arm, and started a hard pounding that had no rhythm or style, just the fighting need guiding him. She bucked back against him, jostling him inside her with a crazy fury. Her nubbin was slick and swollen. He used the pad of his middle finger to trace its shape, then his thumb to pinch and tease.
He didn’t let up on his pace. He drove into her relentlessly. She opened to him so beautifully, selflessly giving him all he needed. She panted hard against the pillow, strands of her hair curled damply against her temple, and she had a tight hold of the sheet in both hands.
“You’re so fucking hot, Marienna. You like it from behind?”
She nodded, but he wasn’t satisfied.
“Do you? Tell me, let me hear it.”
She reached behind and hooked her hand around his thigh. She opened her eyes, and his heart leapt to his throat when she met his gaze. “I love it.”
Marc clenched his teeth. “God damn it. Come for me. I need to feel it on my cock.”
He didn’t know if he had good timing, or if she was waiting for his command, but she immediately let loose with a long, shuddering moan, just as the contractions hit, clamping tight on his buried prick. When the first of three hard spasms hit her, he was able to relinquish control. His balls tightened and shot heat up and out, spitting come into the end of the condom, with a tiny electric jolt accompanying each spurt. The sensation of her muscles cocooning him with the remnants of her orgasm only served to prolong his own. Using three fingers against her clit, he soothed her. She straightened her legs, and he followed her down, once again covering her as completely as he could, from fingertips to toes. He was exhausted. It had been a hell of a day. He’d give anything to just collapse, fall asleep right here with his softening dick still inside her. Of course, he’d probably suffocate her if he did. He adjusted his weight and kissed his mark on her one more time.
“Should I expect a visit from you after every standoff in the city?”
He pulled on her earlobe with his teeth. “Are you being a smartass?”
She smiled a smartass grin. “Not at all, francotirador. Just wondering if I need to invest in a police scanner.”
“Or we could exchange phone numbers.” He shifted away from her and disposed of the condom. She didn’t move. Her head was cradled on her folded arms, and her face had relaxed into an expression of pure satisfaction.
She rolled onto her side and looked at him. “This is just so crazy. I don’t know a thing about you.”
“How about dinner tomorrow? I’ll tell you all of my secrets.”
Her smile faltered. “A date?”
“Yes, it’s that thing most people do before finding themselves in bed having amazing sex.” He shrugged. “Just because we skipped a few steps doesn’t mean we can’t go back and make them up.”
She reached out to him, running her index finger through his chest hair, even teasing his nipple with her fingernail. “Like having dessert before dinner?”
“Exactly.”
They spent the next half hour in bed, touching and learning each other. She even brought him a piece of caramel cake and fed it to him where he was propped up on the pillows. Rarely did he spend the night with a woman. It was even more uncommon to stay up half the night just staring at her as she slept in the dim light of a bedside lamp. They might have started this thing backward, but they could make up for lost time. He reached for the light and settled in for the night. Marienna cuddled closer, rubbing her soft heat against him and stirring his chest hair with her breath. He kissed her crown.
Yeah, he could get used to this.
Marienna woke up the next morning with her face pressed against a muscular wall. She couldn’t help the smile that spread across her face. He’d stayed.
His heart beat slowly against her cheek, and his breathing was deep and even, proving he was asleep.
There was a cop in her bed. A naked cop. What the hell had changed from yesterday to today? How had she let a man with a badge into her life so easily? Mari imagined taking him to meet her mother and brothers. They’d have a field day with this. She giggled.
“What’s so funny?” Marc grumbled from above.
His voice startled her from her thoughts, but she inched closer and laughed again. “You. Me, this whole…thing. I told you I hate cops, right?”
He grunted. “Not all cops.”
She sighed and kissed his pectoral muscle. “Not anymore.”
About the Author
To learn more about Olivia Brynn, please visit www.oliviabrynn.com. Send an email to Olivia at [email protected]
A hard man is good to find…and impossible to resist.
Tempting Grace
© 2009 Anne Rainey
The Vaughn series, Book 4
Since a car accident left her unable to have children, Grace Vaughn has hidden her heart behind a wall. So far it’s held strong, and no one complains much—except the few men she dates.
Now that fortress is crumbling thanks to Jackson Hill, an annoyingly attractive man who makes her imagination go wild just watching him in the office. He’s practically bullied her into attending a Vegas conference with him. Three days alone with the delicious Jackson—in Sin City, no less—is sure to push her right over the edge.
With a loving family, a decent bank account, a nice set of clubs, Jackson’s life is almost complete. Except for the missing piece. Grace. She sets a fire in his blood, and the conference is the perfect crowbar to get past her defense mechanisms. It’s time to see if the bump-and-grind potential in that booty of hers can be channeled into something a little more satisfying than looking.
He’s got just the tactic to get her to let down her guard—and hopefully her panties. A wicked bet. Because if there’s one thing he knows about Grace, she can’t resist a double-dog-dare…
Warning: This title contains graphic sex, rope bondage, anal sex, and a deliciously inventive hero who just happens to be really good with knots and a doling out spankings.
Enjoy the following excerpt for Tempting Grace:
He winked and wrapped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her closer. “You’re too stubborn to let percentages keep you from having what you want. Even I know that much.”
“Thanks…I think,” she said.
He leaned toward her, noting the way her lips parted and her breathing increased. “You know what I think, Gracie?”
“W-What?”
“I think if I don’t kiss you, I’ll die,” he murmured as he closed the gap between them and pressed his lips to hers. Jackson inhaled her gasp of surprise and pulled her close. As his tongue dipped inside her mouth, Jackson knew he’d been right about one thing: Grace’s kiss was definitely potent.
Grace couldn’t think, couldn’t move. Jackson pressed his lips to hers. His tongue played and teased. Her body turned to liquid fire in two seconds flat. She should push him away, send him home. Instead, she lifted her arms and wrapped them around his neck. Jackson groaned as if pleased with her response, slid his arm beneath her knees and pulled her into his lap. Her body seemed so light against so much power and strength. It devastated her senses.
He lifted his mouth from hers and whispered something against her skin, then moved his lips downward, teasing her beyond measure. Grace leaned back, giving him permission to lick a fiery path along her chin and collarbone, before he zeroed in on the V of her ivory colored blouse. He kissed her cleavage and dipped his talented tongue beneath her white satin bra. She arched against him, desperate for more, so hungry for his touch all over.
Jackson chuckled and stopped long enough to murmur, “Easy, Gracie. We’ll get there, I promise.”
She didn’t like that answer to her body’s demands. “Faster
or you can leave, damn it.”
Jackson stopped his ministrations and stared at her in the brightly lit room. What went through his head in that moment was anyone’s guess. When he touched her cheek, she practically melted at the tender caress.
“Is that what you really want, baby? Do you want me to leave?”
She hadn’t expected him to take her seriously. She’d only been trying to get him moving along, to quit dawdling.
“No. I’m just…”
“Anxious?” he helpfully supplied.
She clenched her eyelids shut and admitted, “Yes.”
Jackson’s lips against her forehead forced her to open her eyes once more. His gaze held a wealth of tenderness. Butterflies came to life inside her. An entire swarm of them fluttered around in there.
“I like you like this. Anxious, wanting me. I’ve wanted you for months, but you were so damn good at evading me.” He paused as if carefully choosing his next words. “Rushing isn’t an option, baby. I like to take my time with a woman. A good, long time.”
“You talk too much, Jackson. That’s always been your downfall. All talk, no action.”
“You’re mean when you’re horny.” He grinned and let his gaze travel over her torso. “Fuck, you’re a vision. I think I’d like to keep you for my pet.”
She smacked him on the chest. “That’s the most sexist thing I’ve ever—”
He effectively cut her off with a press of his lips to the pulse in her neck.
“Oh, my God,” Grace moaned as she dug her fingers into his closely cropped dark hair, holding him firmly while he suckled her skin. She ached to feel those lips and that tongue lower. Much lower.
As if she’d spoken the thought aloud, Jackson inched downward, touching off several spasms as he went. Air brushed against her stomach, and she realized he’d somehow managed to unbutton her blouse and pull it down her shoulders, exposing her torso. When his tongue flicked over one hard nipple through the soft material of her bra, Grace nearly shot off the couch. She forgot her misgivings. Her body craved his touch. It’d been so long since she’d had sex. So damn long since she’d derived any real pleasure from a man’s body.
As if afraid she would break, Jackson lightly ran his tongue back and forth over her areola seconds before sucking her nipple into his warm mouth, satin and all. He hummed in satisfaction, and the raspy vibration of his voice tormented her. Somehow Grace found herself sprawled, Jackson’s hands on either side of her body effectively pinning her to the cushions. He surrounded her. His lethal strength and intoxicating scent filled her vision and her senses.
While he switched to the other breast, Grace marveled at his patience. He sipped at her skin and toyed with erogenous zones she wasn’t aware she possessed. When he appeared to be settling in for a damned meal, Grace urged him lower with a tug on his hair. He obliged and moved his loving torture south. Her body reacted with a flow of moisture to her center. Every inch of her was ready for him to take her. To fuck her. He’d be hard and savage, she knew it in her bones.
“Please, Jackson.”
A grunt was the only indication he’d even heard her plea. By tiny increments, he tugged her slacks down, and with each piece of flesh he exposed he sprinkled her with kisses. By the time the material was all the way off, Grace’s pussy throbbed.
He sat back on his haunches, his gaze devouring her. “You don’t wear panties?”
Grace didn’t like embarrassment, and at that moment, she seemed to be swimming in it. “Wow, pretty observant. No wonder you’re the VP.”
“All night you sat here chatting with Jordan and you weren’t wearing panties.” He passed a hand over his face and grumbled, “Damn, Grace. You sure know how to drive a man crazy.”
“Oh, gee, such a sweet talker you are.”
He reached down and cupped her mound. “You’re a real smart ass. One of these days I’m going to spank you for it too.”
“Spanking my ass. Sounds kinky.”
“Who said anything about your ass?” he growled. “I think I’d rather tie up these pretty tits and spank those instead.”
His words brought an image to her mind, a totally forbidden image. Her clit swelled. She tried to maintain her cool composure, but when his middle finger found its way through her curls and sank all the way to the knuckle inside her heat, she gave up any pretense of control.
“Mmm, just look at you. Your cunt is ripe for the plucking. I think I’m going to really enjoy making you scream with pleasure.”
When a second finger joined the first, her hips began to move, matching his pumping rhythm. After thrusting several times, Jackson brought both fingers all the way out. She wanted to beg him to come back, but her words died on her tongue as she watched him suck her juices off each digit.
“Tangy, but I’m going to need a little more to be sure.” He spread her wide and dipped his head between her thighs and swept his tongue over her swollen clit.
Sun, sex and Satanism—and Via is the chief sacrifice…
The Devil and Via
© 2008 Marie Treanor
The seventh child of a seventh child, Via has always lived a life just shy of normal. That life is also a mess. She hears things other people don't, and has prophetic dreams she can never quite remember. Eager to escape, she jumps at the chance for a cushy summer job in Italy—where her life goes from merely messy to downright disastrous.
Taxi driver Giancarlo knows what it’s like to feel vulnerable, and can bear any burden—except pity. Rescuing Via from the clutches of a nightmarish satanic cult comes easy. Shielding his heart from her determination to become his lover is a different story. But in her irresistible arms, he begins to believe it’s worth the risk.
Then Via discovers why she is the target of Marinuzzi, a murderous Satanist. He wants her newly unleashed psychic gifts for himself, and he’ll do anything to convince her to give them up, including trap Via into an impossible choice.
A choice that would save Giancarlo’s life—but take away his reason to live.
Enjoy the following excerpt for The Devil and Via:
Without meaning to, Via blurted, “Do you know the really funny thing? I never believed such nonsensical things went on outside the pages of my dad’s old Dennis Wheatley novels. Yet it was almost as if I’d been there before, seen it all before…”
Frowning with concentration, Via tried and failed to retrieve the memory. All she had was tonight’s living nightmare. And coffee with this kind man who would now think she was completely mad.
Giancarlo asked, “How did you escape?”
She shrugged. “I pretended to be so overcome with fear—not a great test of acting, I assure you—that I fainted. Then, when they took me down from the cross to ready me for my ritual murder, or rape, I don’t know, I kneed the old man in the balls and pushed him into the others. Then I ran like hell. They chased me all through that wood and down the hill to the road where you stopped for me.”
Via looked away. “You see why I’m doubtful about the police. Who would believe that? I’d just be dubbed a hysterical woman with morbid sexual fantasies.”
“I don’t think so.”
Her eyes widened, swinging back to his.
He said, “This is not such a rare event in Italy. The police are very aware of these so-called devil-worshippers. We had a wake-up call a few years ago, when members of a rock band began murdering one another in their rituals.”
“Seriously?”
“Seriously. Mostly they are just confused, alienated kids living out sick fantasies, but they are taken as a serious threat in our society. Even the priests are taught special courses on it now, to try to understand and help. To be honest, I think you had a very lucky escape. Others will not be so lucky.”
Her heart quailed. She felt cornered and furious.
“But this is different,” she objected. “Someone was encouraging, controlling these young people.”
“The police need to know that, too.”
There wa
s no way round it now. Resigned, she said, “I’ll tell them in the morning. Where should I go? The local Carabinieri office?”
“Yes. Or I can phone them for you and get someone who speaks English to come here to see you.”
She smiled. “Can you really do that?”
His eyes smiled into hers. “I can do anything.”
Her breath caught again. Was he flirting with her? Suddenly she remembered her hand in his, burning into her leg. She laughed unsteadily. “I know you can,” she said with feeling. At which point the barmaid brought the coffee, and he said something teasing to her, too, and Via realized that, of course, it was just his manner and the fact he felt sorry for her.
To cover her embarrassment, she drew her hand free and rummaged inside her bag for her worn and much-scribbled-on map of Pisa. Spreading it out on the table between them, she reached for the strong espresso and took a sip, sighing in thoughtless appreciation.
“You like Italian coffee? I should have asked you before ordering.”
“I love Italian coffee,” she assured him. “Can you show me on this map where we are? This hotel?”
“Sure.” He bent over it, dragging a pen from his back pocket and stabbing it immediately on a marked road near the river. “Just here.” He carefully made a cross between the scribbles that made sense only to her. “And in case the Carabinieri don’t come to you, their office is here.”
Via, who hadn’t been looking at the map at all but at his fascinating face, was caught suddenly by his intense, dark gaze when he glanced up at her and found her staring. His eyebrow twitched.
“What?” he asked, smiling.
“Nothing.” Via flushed. “I…I have a problem with directions. That’s why I don’t drive. And another reason I don’t really want to face the police—I’d never be able to explain where it happened and…”