Rough Riders 01 - Long Hard Ride

by Lorelei James

  It was a challenge he couldn’t ignore.

  “The thought of me pressing my lips to yours, of my tongue delving between them doesn’t make your nipples hard?” He waited only briefly before saying, “Tell me your breasts aren’t heavy. That a slight tingle hasn’t begun slowly filtering through them, aching for me to stroke them? Place my hot…wet…mouth on them?”

  He trapped her gaze with his and paused. “Tell me you’re not moist just thinking of how my hands would feel caressing your body, stroking the flame that burns in your belly, building it into a raging wildfire.

  Because that’s exactly what I would do to you.”

  With his last words her eyelashes lowered halfway, the thick fringe hiding how her eyes had grown steamy. The increased rise and fall of her chest was a dead giveaway that he had aroused her.

  He continued.

  “I would touch every inch of your body with my hands and mouth. I’d make you scream for me to take you. Then when every nerve ending grew so raw that your skin was alive, I would enter your pussy slowly until you tossed back your head and screamed my name.

  “Nicolas,” he said his name in a whisper. “Your orgasm would explode as I filled you.”

  “Stop.” She breathed the word.

  What the hell had he done? His cock was rock hard. His palms itched to touch her. His mouth watered to taste her. This was torture and he had driven himself to this unbearable point. He couldn’t find the strength to release her from the hold he knew he had on her.

  “Stop? Or do you really want me to lay you on this table in front of all these people? Grab your ankles, slowly parting your legs, before I bury my face between your thighs, licking and sucking your clit?”

  Jana gulped down a gush of air. “Fuck.” She squirmed in her chair.

  “Oh, doll, I will do more than fuck you,” he promised, the idea sending his hormones into a frenzy of desire.

  “No. I didn’t mean— Oh shit! Just stop, Nicolas, stop.” She pressed her palm to her mouth. She mumbled through her fingers, “This isn’t right. You’re sleeping with Lisa.”

  Nicolas’s hand slipped beneath the table. He cupped his hard erection as his eyelids grew heavy. God, I wish this was your hand, doll.

  “Lisa and I have an agreement.” He ran his fingers across his engorged cock. “There is no commitment between us.” He reached for her hand, removing it from her full lips, and she didn’t fight him. Instead her hand trembled. What would she do if he placed her hand between his legs, showed her how she affected him? He scooted closer to her.

  Jana was almost his. He could feel her surrender in the softness of her skin, the way her fingers intertwined with his.

  The server arrived with their main course and the moment was lost.

  She jerked away from his touch. A light blush crossed her cheeks as her spaghetti was placed before her.

  Damn!

  But the evening was still young and Lisa had promised to stay away the entire night.

  There’s nowhere to run and no place to hide from old wounds and demons for the vulnerable woman behind the bawdy attitude.

  Tamara’s Spirit

  © 2007 Nicole Austin

  How ironic to be captured by an Indian when not one of the Shooting Star Ranch cowboys is available to race to her rescue.

  City girl Tamara Dobbs lives on the ranch to be close to her friends and even closer to her gorgeous cowboys, but still she feels discontent, fragmented. From the minute she runs into the new guy—sexy, unflappable equestrian, Dakota Blackhawk—she runs from the intense emotions he evokes.

  On first sight, Dakota knows nothing will stop him from claiming the brazen little princess as his own—heart, body, and spirit. He’ll accept nothing less. While he would gladly take on the fight for her, she must face her own battle to become whole. Taking her out of her element is the only way he can help the sexy, stubborn woman.

  Tamara may survive the emotional roller coaster ride, but she still must conquer the ultimate challenge…forgetting what others want her to be and becoming true to herself.

  Enjoy the following excerpt for Tamara’s Spirit: With a deep sigh he moved behind her, boxing her between the fence and the steel bands of his arms as his hands held a firm grasp on the top rung. The warmth of his big body enveloped her. Tamara felt a heated flush rise from her breasts and over her neck to settle high on her cheeks. It took every ounce of willpower she possessed to keep from leaning back against him, luxuriating in his presence surrounding her.

  His breath created a hot caress against her ear as he leaned forward and began speaking. The sexy, raspy baritone slid over her skin like heated molasses, slow and sensual. “Watch them, princess.”

  The firm caress of his lips brushing against the shell of her ear made her breasts feel heavy, achy, her cunt warm and wet. The whisper of his breath over her neck made her body shudder.

  Fucking need to get laid. And soon!

  “You can tell the female is ready to be mounted. Her cunt is swollen.

  See how her hot juices slide from her vagina in anticipation of taking the stallion’s big shaft. She wants him. Every muscle is tensed as she waits for him to come to her, to fill her up.”

  Oh shit! How about filling me up, stud? She had no problem imagining how the horse felt. Tamara was reacting the same way as Honey—flesh quivering, pussy lips swollen and dripping—wet and ready. If only she were able to have an enjoyable experience with one man, but she knew better. For her, orgasm required more stimulation than one cock was capable of delivering. All of her attempts at one-on-one sex in the recent past had left her frustrated. She was not able to get off anymore without at least three big cocks fucking all her orifices at once.

  Her body readied itself anyway, betraying Tamara and confusing her jumbled thoughts. Her breasts were so full, needy. It took all her self-control to keep her hands on the fence rail and not rub the small globes or tweak her peaked nipples. Dakota’s heady, masculine scent enveloping her made her clit pulse. The silky material of her panties flooded with her cream, the scent of arousal rising on the heated air between them.

  “She wants this, weeps for it.” Dakota whispered the words against her ear.

  Tamara watched as Brock walked the big stallion into the corral at a measured pace, keeping the horse under his rigid command. She tried to keep the animals at the center of her attention instead of the big man behind her. She made a concerted effort to keep her breathing steady so he wouldn’t know how much his words and actions affected her, but a knot of sexual need twisted her stomach as she watched the horse pace close behind the mare.

  She felt Dakota moving, the heat of his body warming her back, intense sexual energy crowding her closer to the fence. Tamara was certain his actions would mirror those of the stallion’s cautious yet eager approach to the filly.

  “You can feel the stallion’s anticipation of shafting the mare—see it in the trembling of his body. He can smell the scent of her need as her body prepares itself for him. He knows she is wet and all he has to do is mount her from behind, sliding his huge cock into her slick, ready passage.”

  Hell fucking yeah, she screamed within her head.

  Tamara stifled an inward groan as Dakota’s thick erection pressed against the crevice of her ass, hot and insistent. He was so wonderfully hard and long. Her legs became weak as he rocked against her. She couldn’t resist pushing back into the harder-than-steel length of his questing shaft or take her eyes off the scene taking place in the corral before them.

  Brock led the stallion toward the mare at an angle, not allowing the horse to mount right away. He kept the stallion far enough away from the mare so all the horse managed to do was extend his neck over and nuzzle her genitals.

  Fuck! That had to feel good.

  Dakota continued to speak against her ear, sending tingling currents of electricity through her entire body. Right then she would have risked everything to feel his mouth teasing her wet folds, his tongue lapping at her inf
lamed clit.

  “First he will taste her desire, let it roll around on his tongue and fill him with her essence. He’ll lap up as much of that sweet cream as he can, teasing the mare. Make her long for what only he can give her.”

  The wet swipe of the stallion’s big tongue over Honey’s sensitive folds had the horse screaming out in need. Tamara felt an echo of the same need ooze from her sensitive skin as Dakota continued to rock his erection into the crease of her ass.

  He felt better than good. He felt like something she needed with a desperation bordering on obsession. She wanted nothing more than to drop her jeans, spread her legs and impale herself on his thick length.

  Have every hard inch filling her all the way to her empty heart.

  “See the way Honey’s muscles ripple beneath her skin as she anticipates Rowdy’s long cock ramming into her? She wants to feel him pounding into her hot cunt, stroking her sensitive walls.”

  Hell yes she saw it. She shared Honey’s eagerness to experience such a glorious impalement. Dakota created a longing in her well beyond anything in her experience. It burned through her body with an incomprehensible molten desire.

  They watched as Zeke braced the mare, providing a bit of physical support as the stallion mounted her, his forelegs and chest resting over her back. The stud looked downright primal, single-minded in his desire to mate. He rutted around until he was properly aligned with the mare then slid forward, driving his shaft into her body, his teeth nipping at her neck. Animal grunts and cries of passion rose in the air.

  At the same time, Dakota thrust his cock against her ass, his teeth capturing the tender flesh where neck and shoulder meet. Tamara’s eyes clamped shut as carnal wants flooded her system. The words he spoke between swipes of his tongue over the pulse point in her neck were lost in her lust-fogged mind. She dissolved into a mass of quivering, hypersensitive nerve endings.

  Time lost all meaning for Tamara. She had no idea how long she stood there with the big stud rocking against her ass. All she knew was she desired him more than she ever had any other man. Yet desire wasn’t quite right. This reaction was much more, reaching toward becoming an all consuming requirement. She needed his cock filling her, making her complete.

  She was astonished to find watching two horses fuck, combined with Dakota’s words, was turning her on so much. More than any porno flick ever had. As the stallion groaned out his satisfaction, Dakota’s moan filled her ear.

  “I want you so much, princess.”

  Hell yes!

  Taking a ride on the wild side is a dangerous proposition Running With The Devil

  © 2007 Lorelei James

  Drug dealer? Hooker? Blackmailer? Kenna Jones was the last person to have contact with a murdered federal informant and DEA Agent Drake March goes undercover during the Sturgis Motorcycle Rally to find out just what her relationship to the dead man was. One problem—from the moment Drake encounters the gorgeous, hot-tempered chameleon—he doesn’t trust her—or his immediate attraction to her.

  Kenna’s situation can’t get worse. Posing as arm candy for rich bikers is a humiliating way to earn tuition. But the financially strapped grad student has no choice. And it appears too-sexy for his badge Agent Drake March isn’t giving her a choice either. He threatens to have her arrested if she refuses to cooperate in his investigation.

  But bullets fly and Kenna’s life is in danger from an unknown threat.

  Drake’s protective instincts kick in when he realizes sweet Kenna is innocent—and in far over her head.

  Lust, fear and desire make for a volatile combination in the hedonistic atmosphere, leading Drake and Kenna into taking a dangerous ride on the wild side—with explosive results.

  With their lives at stake, will they learn to trust each other before it’s too late? Or will the devil come calling and finally get his due?

  Enjoy the following excerpt for Running With The Devil: Drake braced himself against the wall while he toed off his boots.

  Wallet, leather pouch and keys landed on the bed.

  Kenna dropped her duffle by the door and flopped on the bed closest to the window. She yawned and flipped back the covers. “I’m wiped.”

  “Aren’t you changing into pajamas?” Visions of sexy nightgowns teased him; a frilly baby doll barely covering her gorgeous ass. A black silk nightie highlighting her dangerous curves. Or his personal favorite: nothing but fire flashing in her eyes and a “do-me-big-daddy” smile.

  “No. I don’t wear paj—”

  “Even better. That way I know you won’t be sneaking out.”

  She propped herself on her elbow and scowled at him. “Here’s where you threaten to tie me to the bed.”

  Drake grinned. “Only if you ask me real nice.” He yanked his T-shirt over his head and pitched it toward the chair.

  “Don’t hold your breath.”

  The barb didn’t hold any sting when Drake noticed her eyes were glued to his chest. Hmm. No matter what her smart mouth said, her body didn’t lie. Seemed she was the one having a hard time catching her breath.

  He stretched, flexing the muscles in his biceps and contracting his abs. At the stunned, hungry look on her face he decided the hours spent in the gym were well worth it.

  “What are you doing?” she croaked.

  “Getting ready for bed.”

  Drake sighed, dropping his hands to his waistband. His fingers fiddled with the top button.

  Then he unbuckled his belt.

  Her gaze zoomed to his fly as he oh-so-slowly lowered the zipper.

  Damn if his cock didn’t appreciate her rapt attention and offer an enthusiastic, hopeful salute.

  She swallowed hard as he began to slide the jeans down his hips, inching them over his muscular thighs and past his knees.

  “Enjoying the show?”

  “God, yes,” she responded eagerly before she caught herself. A faint blush stole across her cheeks, highlighting her freckles. She abruptly turned on her side.

  Drake shucked his jeans completely off and stood there, feeling like an idiot with a hard-on pressing out of the top of his black boxers.

  “What? No goodnight kiss?”

  “You can kiss my ass,” she retorted.

  “Careful, hot stuff. I might consider that an invitation.”

  “Go to sleep, perv. On your own side of the room in your own bed.”

  He laughed softly. “Goodnight, Kenna. Sweet dreams.”

  Kenna slowed her breathing, pretending to be asleep. Drake would probably start snoring any minute. Wouldn’t that blow her fantasy of him straight to hell?

  Oh yeah, he was man enough to fill a hundred fantasies.

  She squeezed her eyes shut, but it was no use. Her brain insisted on reliving his sexy, impromptu strip tease. Over and over again until she’d memorized every damn detail.

  His body boggled her mind. Long, lean and hard, muscled in all the right places—he definitely looked long and hard where it counted. Sweat beaded on her brow thinking about touching and tasting that tanned golden skin and corded muscles. Sifting her fingers through his unruly black hair. Taking his big cock in her hands. In her body. In her mouth.

  She suppressed a moan, but her body launched a rush of moisture south anyway.

  Hell. She’d never get to sleep now.

  A deep masculine grunt. Followed by a heavy sigh. The bed squeaked and the polyester covers rustled as he rolled over.

  She stared at the warped pine paneling surrounding the window, then at the brownish water spots on the ceiling. Think of something not sexy.

  Rocks. She smiled to herself and began to recite the geological periods. In order. By the time she reached the Paleolithic age, she’d relaxed enough to drift off.

  Her sultry voice drifted to him in the dark.

  “You asleep?”

  Drake went absolutely still beneath the thin sheet.

  She laughed softly. “I know you’re awake, Agent March. I’ve heard you tossing and turning.”


  He sighed. No use pretending.

  “Tell me something.”

  “What?”

  “Is it hard to sleep with an erection?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Don’t think I didn’t notice you had a pretty impressive hard-on before you crawled in bed. I imagine you’re still hard as a rock, aren’t you?

  “Kenna—”

  “Can’t be comfortable with that big thing poking you in the stomach.

  And I doubt you want to touch yourself with me in the room.”

  “Why—”

  “Although you could sneak in the bathroom and jack off in the shower and I’d never know.”

  “What?”

  “You heard me.” The bedspread crinkled as she shifted on the mattress. “Every time you get in the shower, I’ll think that’s what you’re really doing. Slicking your hands up with soap. Sliding up and down your shaft.” She paused. “Who do you think about when you’re stroking yourself?”

  He didn’t answer.

  “An old girlfriend? A famous actress? Or a model? Think any of them know how to give a decent hand job?”

  His heart started to pound. “Why are you doing this?”

  “Because I want to know what you’d do if I wasn’t here.”

  Jack off in the shower. Thinking of you the entire time.

  “You really think I’ll answer that?” She might talk tough but he doubted she could handle his answer.

  “No. But since I am here I can give you the relief you’re dying for.”

  He must have misunderstood her. He was so focused on how the fringed curtains stirred whenever the air conditioner kicked on that he didn’t realize she’d moved until she’d slid beneath the sheets next to him.

  “Kenna. I don’t think—”