To the Max

by Annmarie McKenna

  To distract herself, she picked up her plate and stood. “You done?” Without waiting for anything more than his nod, she picked up his empty plate as well and carried them both to the sink. A small pile of dishes had already been gathered there.

  As she grabbed the sponge and drizzled some soap on it, she heard the scrape of his chair behind her. “You don’t have to do that.”

  “I don’t mind.”

  “Seriously, leave it.”

  Trying to diffuse some of her tension, she forced a smile into her voice and made a tsking noise. “Look at all these dirty dishes. You and I both know you’ll let these gather until you don’t have any other choice. I still have a few minutes, and I’ll just—”

  Without warning, hard hands closed over her hips, and she dropped the sponge. He swiveled her around. Reaching behind her, he wrenched the water off. “Goddamn it, Leyla. Stop treating me like a kid.”

  She blinked up at him, stunned at both the anger on his face and the hard tone of his voice. “I’m not.”

  “You are. I’m not your son, and I’m not your brother. I can do my own fucking dishes.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “You don’t need to swear at me.”

  He sneered. “Are you going to chastise me for my language now?”

  “Someone needs to. You idiot. I certainly don’t think I’m your mother.”

  “Then stop acting like it. You don’t have to clean up after me. You certainly don’t need to do my fu-”

  She slapped her hands against his chest. “That’s a nasty swear, Mason. Say it again, and I will make you sorry. I was doing the dishes because you cooked, you ass.”

  He stilled. “Do you mind if I use it and I’m not swearing at you?”

  “What?”

  “Fuck.”

  The short, graphic word looked erotic on his full lips. She caught her breath.

  “Do you object to the word or the context?”

  “The-the context.”

  His lips quirked. “I’ll keep that in mind. I apologize. I’m sorry if I overreacted.”

  “I’m not your sister,” she blurted out.

  “I know that. I’ve known that for a while. The question is, do you know it?”

  “Yes.” She realized at that moment that her slightly damp hands were flat against his chest.

  His naked, hard, hot chest.

  Leyla had never touched him so intimately. Hugs, pecks on the cheek, pats on the back; that was it. The way she’d been raised, males and females who were platonic friends didn’t touch each other inappropriately. Mason knew and respected that.

  She couldn’t look at his face. Instead, she studied her hands, so small against the wide expanse of his chest. Her one hand curved over his developed pec. She only had to move just a smidgeon to scrape the nail of her pinky over his nipple.

  Then he was growling, a low rumbling noise, using his tight grip on her hips to pull her closer and crowd her against the counter. He shoved one hand into her hair, tilted her head and lowered his lips to hers.

  All she could think was that she no longer needed to wonder if he desired her. He didn’t bother with an exploratory foray or gentle teasing. He kissed her as if they’d been kissing for years, as if he had an absolute right to her lips and her mouth. It was hot and carnal, his mouth open on hers, his tongue stroking against hers and inside. When she twined her arms around his neck and sank into him, he made a rough noise and captured the zipper on her hoodie. One quick tug had it undone, and then it was like her shirt just magically undid itself of its buttons for him as well. He pushed it to the side with rough impatience until her breast filled his hand.

  When he pinched her nipple, Leyla figured she was pretty much done for. Her breasts were sensitive, but Mason touched her with just the perfect amount of pressure. She arched her back and whimpered into his mouth. God, she wanted more.

  He ripped his mouth away and studied her with hot eyes. She knew what she would see if she glanced down at herself right then. Tousled hair, unbuttoned top, her right breast plumped up by his hand, her nipple long and tight. She didn’t want to look down at herself. The reality would force her brain back into action. There was a certain comfort and simplicity in letting one’s vagina do the talking. “Mason, please…”

  Slashes of red crested Mason’s high cheekbones. “You’re so beautiful.” He dipped his head, pulling her nipple into the wet cavern of his mouth.

  If she’d thought that Mason knew how to touch a nipple, that was nothing compared to how well he could suck one. He was a freakin’ maestro of the nipple, suckling hard and fast, teasing her with light flicks of his tongue. She looked down at his blond head against her skin. Instantly, doubts and worries crept into her mind. She shut her eyes and they faded. She didn’t want to think. Just feel.

  He drew away from her nipple. “One day, I want to spend just an hour or two sucking your breasts. Will you let me do that?”

  What was a girl supposed to say to that? Yes please? She nodded, since she really couldn’t think of anything she’d rather have at that moment.

  “Good.” He flicked his nail against the wet tip of her breast and she shuddered. His eyes narrowed. “Are you close? Already?”

  “Mason, I need…”

  “Don’t worry. I know.”

  The heat is on…

  Dangerous Lover

  © 2010 Charlene Teglia

  Take Me, Lover, Book 4

  Just a few more weeks and accounting student Cherry Harris will officially get her master’s degree and kiss her pink waitress uniform goodbye. There’s something else she’d like to make official, too—no more bad boys.

  Tired of getting burned, she’s determined that from now on, it’s nice guys or nothing. What could be nicer than a firefighter rescuing a kitten from a tree? Joe Deluca looks like the perfect way to break her romantic destructive pattern.

  Perfect melts like ice cream on a hot day when Cherry finds out that when Joe’s not in uniform, he rides a motorcycle and wears a leather jacket over his tattoos. Is he a nice guy, a bad boy, or the man who’s just right for her?

  The five-alarm passion Joe inspires proves an irresistible temptation, but Cherry’s determined to guard her heart if not her body. Until a firebug leads them both into danger and Cherry is forced to admit her heart’s been in jeopardy from the beginning…

  Warning: Contains a sexy firefighter and burning-up-the-sheets sex scenes that use ALL the words. May induce Harley-Davidson motorcycle fantasies you should not attempt on a moving vehicle.

  Enjoy the following excerpt for Dangerous Lover:

  Her cell phone rang on her way home. Cherry fished it out of her bag and answered it. “Hello?”

  “Cherry.” Joe’s voice filled her ear. “Just heard about the fire at the ice cream shop. Are you all right?”

  “Fine.” Except the hand holding the phone was shaking, she realized. “Mostly.”

  “Were you there when it happened?”

  “Yes.” She blinked hard, eyes still stinging from the black cloud she’d left behind. “It happened so fast. One minute everything was fine, and then I smelled smoke.”

  “Nobody hurt, according to the report.” But his voice sounded taut, not his usual relaxed tone.

  “No,” Cherry agreed. “We got everybody out and the fire truck arrived almost immediately.”

  She heard him exhale as if he’d been waiting for her to confirm it before he believed it. “Good. I wasn’t sure if you were working today, but I had to call.”

  “Worried about me?” A spot of warmth flickered to life inside her.

  “Yes. I have plans for you.”

  Oh, yes. Plans that included him, his bike, a loose dress, and a pair of panties she could live without. What did he have in mind? Whatever it was, it was sure to take hers off the unexpected emergency she’d just been through.

  “If you’re offering to distract me, I could use a distraction,” Cherry said.

  “Me too.” His voice took on a
raw sound.

  She blinked again, not entirely due to the irritants she’d subjected her eyes to. The dangers Joe risked every time he reported for a shift had to make the relatively small and uneventful fire at the restaurant pretty minor on his scale. But he had been worried about her. Maybe because he knew firsthand how bad a fire could be.

  “I’m all for distractions.” She tried for a light tone, but a note of real longing came through. She needed the diversion Joe offered. “You’re not working today?”

  “Not at the station. When I’m on there, it’s for twenty-four hours straight. I do two of those shifts a week.”

  That had to make for really long days. Especially if an emergency happened after twenty-three of those hours. The relatively open schedule must make up for it.

  “What do you do the rest of the time?” Cherry reached her building and headed for her apartment, curious about what Joe did off-duty.

  “I’ll show you. Are you home now?”

  “Just.” She stopped outside her door and fished out her keys.

  “Be ready in fifteen minutes.”

  Figuring that was long enough for a shower, Cherry let herself in and locked the door behind her, stripping as she headed for soap and water. She wadded her discarded clothing and dumped it in the laundry basket, hoping the smoky smell would come out in the wash.

  After she hopped out of the shower rinsed and clean, she felt better. A few minutes with some hair gel and a blow dryer got her mostly ready. Cherry skipped a bra and pulled on a soft pink T-shirt. A flared mid-calf-length denim skirt went on next. The draping fabric was loose enough to let her straddle a bike and long enough to keep her decent. She decided to live dangerously and wear pink lace briefs underneath. If she had to sacrifice them to great sex, she was pretty sure the orgasms would be adequate consolation.

  A knock sounded at her door just as she finished. Joe appeared in the peephole. Cherry grinned at the fish-eyed view of him then opened the door.

  His eyes took her in from her sneaker-clad feet up, warm with approval. “You’re right on time.”

  “So are you.” Cherry retrieved her bag and slid it up her shoulder as she joined him outside, locking the door behind her and dropping the keys into her bag.

  His hand settled on her waist as he pulled her against his side. “You feel unscathed.”

  “Yep. Just a little shaken up.” She leaned into him, enjoying the warmth of his body touching hers, the sexy way his fingers gripped her waist and the buzz of anticipation his closeness filled her with.

  “I should check you out thoroughly,” Joe said. “In case anything got overlooked.”

  Cherry nodded, trying for a solemn tone. “You’re right. Better safe than sorry.” Although, right now, she didn’t want to play it safe, and she wasn’t sorry.

  They reached Joe’s motorcycle and climbed on. Cherry leaned forward, loving the feel of her breasts pressed against Joe’s back and her arms around his middle. Her feet found their pegs as he revved the engine and then they moved forward.

  He drove her through neighborhoods with spacious yards and shady trees, winding around side streets, before coming to a white two-story house with a long driveway and a detached garage that sat sideways at the end of it, surrounded by a copse of ash and birch trees.

  The Harley came to a rumbling stop while Joe retrieved an electronic opener from a pocket. The garage door slid up and they rolled in. Joe aimed the Harley at a metal stand and parked on it. The stand raised the bike up a little and held it stable. Cherry could see shiny rows of tools hanging neatly on one wall and various other bikes on similar stands, some with wheels off and in differing stages of assembly. Parts covered a workbench that ran the width of the back wall.

  Joe reached back and ran a hand up her thigh under her skirt. “Climb off and get back on in front of me.”

  What did he have in mind? Cherry swung a leg over, stood, and came around to the front. The motor continued to idle, a deep rumbling sound. The open garage door meant whatever they did, they weren’t going to die from carbon monoxide in the process. And the sideways angle of the garage to the street, with the additional privacy afforded by the screen of trees, meant nobody passing by could look in.

  With a mental shrug, Cherry did what he wanted and climbed on, facing the gas tank while Joe slid back on the leather seat to make room for her.

  His body framed hers as his arms wrapped around her. His mouth found her ear, nipping at the sensitive skin of her lobe before speaking. “Hands on the handlebars.”

  Okay. Cherry leaned forward and gripped them. It helped her balance, especially when Joe’s hands moved to cup and squeeze her breasts, thumbs seeking out and rubbing her nipples through the thin fabric of her T-shirt. Then down her waist and hips, catching the hem of her skirt and hiking it up to her waist. She drew in a sharp breath when he toyed with the lace edge of her panties.

  “You going to miss these?”

  “Terribly,” Cherry said, the catch in her voice giving away the lie. “You can console me by making their loss memorable.”

  “You won’t forget this.”

  Joe kissed the nape of her neck, his warm breath sending shivers dancing down her spine. The rumbling vibration of the bike between her spread legs made her feel like she was primed to take off and rocket into ecstasy. He teased her, running his fingers around the upper edge of her panties, then the legs, starting at her hips and slowly moving towards her center.

  “Joe.” She wanted him to touch her there, between her legs, to feel the pad of his finger pressing against her swollen clit.

  He answered her with more instructions instead of the touch she was on the edge of demanding. “Scoot up a little.”

  Cherry hitched forward and gasped as that put her clit in contact with the warm, vibrating gas tank.

  Joe reached around her and gunned the throttle, increasing the vibration.

  “Oh.” Cherry’s eyes went wide and her lips bowed as she rocked into the machine.

  “Now you. Work it the way you like it.”

  New Year’s resolutions have never looked so good.

  Make Mine Midnight

  © 2009 Annmarie McKenna

  New Year’s Eve. The party is rockin’, and Claire is in her usual spot holding up the wall. It’s all right. She’s much happier scribbling in her trusty little notebook than mingling. Especially since those notes turn into the sexy erotic romances she pens in secret. Those two gorgeous gods across the room are perfect hero material and…oh dear, are they headed her way?

  Mason and Hunter know she won’t remember them as the scrawny geeks they were in high school. She also doesn’t know they’ve been lusting after her for ten long years, waiting for her to meet a man and have a normal relationship. They’re through waiting. The time has come to make their move—and show her exactly how much they’ve changed.

  One night in the middle of a Mason/Hunter manwich, and Claire has enough research material to fill a hundred notebooks. Good thing she’s got OfficeMax on speed dial to order more. Except suddenly her two hunks have this crazy idea that keeping her is selfish. Selfish? She may be mousy, but this mouse is about to roar…

  Warning: Threesomes! Light bondage, blindfolds, breakfast made by two hot men who used to be geeks. Parades, cotton candy, more sex, and convincing said men they are WRONG and threesomes are RIGHT.

  Enjoy the following excerpt for Make Mine Midnight:

  “I want the whole scoop later, sweetie,” Paul called after them as Mason and Hunter practically frogmarched her down the hall to the stairwell. There were no slow feet, no stopping or pausing, just a straight, quick arrow to the stairs. Two short flights down had them on the next floor where they proceeded to continue down the hall like they’d done so a million times. Like she had so often. Before she could say a word, they stopped right in front of 13A.

  Interesting since she’d never given the directions. They should have had to ask where she lived, not known how to take her right to her fr
ont door.

  Her suspicion rose again. “How did you know where I lived?”

  “Paul.” Hunter felt her jeans pockets and victoriously extracted her set of keys.

  “I knew that man had a big mouth, but damn. He told you everything, didn’t he?”

  “Don’t get mad at the middleman, sweetheart.” Hunter pecked her cheek as he fumbled the key in the lock then pushed open the door to her place.

  “I still want to know what’s going on.”

  “Later,” Mason growled in her ear. Literally growled. “Time for talk later. We need to see you, want to touch you, taste you.”

  Claire wondered if it were possible for one’s heart to actually explode. The thing was beating so hard surely it was close.

  “And what if I don’t want to do those things?” The act of defiance pretty much fell flat. She knew it based on their twin predatory grins.

  “If you really didn’t want this, you’d go inside and slam the door in our faces. One thing we remember for certain about you is your stubbornness.” Hunter turned serious and touched her cheek. “If there’s anything we do that scares you or you don’t want, just tell us. We’ll back off.”

  They would. She didn’t know how she knew it, but she did. They wouldn’t hurt her. Maybe leave her heart crushed in a million pieces when they left, but they wouldn’t physically hurt her. They weren’t that kind of men. Not ten years ago, and she could see they still weren’t.

  What could she say to that? She nodded and stepped inside, letting them follow her in. Not want this? Pfft. The door sounded with what seemed like an ominous click and then Hunter spoke again.

  “Take off the shirt, Claire. I can’t wait to see you.” Mason’s hands fisted and she wondered if he were trying not to pounce on her. His expression clearly showed he wanted to do just that.

  She swallowed and reached for the hem of her shirt, revealing inch by inch of smooth, creamy skin in an almost provocative dance. Where her inner vixen suddenly came from she didn’t know and didn’t particularly care. When her bellybutton appeared, Mason dropped to his knees and placed a kiss on the indentation. The act startled her and Claire bumped back into the wall. Mason took advantage. He held her hips and kissed a circle around her navel, tickling her into a rush of giggles.