The Lady and the Vixen

by KT Grant

  With a dangerous highwayman also terrorizing the land who has close ties to Martin, Thomas becomes a target in a deadly game of cat and mouse. It’s up to Martin to save Thomas and hope they can sail away on their tide of passion, where he will end up being the Prince’s groom.

  Excerpt:

  “There you are, lad. I’ve been lookin’ for you everywhere.” The older man strolled toward him with a bright grin on his face.

  He looks at me as if he loves me. He clasped his hands behind his back to stop from reaching out and taking Martin in his arms. He was so wrong. Martin didn’t love him. Desired and lusted for him, yes. But loved him? No.

  He remained silent as Martin cupped his cheeks and tipped his head back. He swallowed, overcome with the need to get down on his knees and worship the man’s cock. He had never experienced anything like it. He would never forget him as long as he lived.

  “What are you thinking of, Your Highness?” Martin licked his lips.

  He clenched his fists, wanting desperately to run his fingers through the dark goatee, spread his palms on his bald head, and press kisses on the elder man’s face. He frowned. He didn’t even know how old Martin truly was, let alone his first name.

  “Please don’t call me ‘lad.’ And certainly not ‘Your Highness’. I’m very much a man and no longer a prince, and haven’t been for many years. I would have no idea how to run a country even if given the chance.” He added the last as an afterthought.

  Martin released his neck and slid his hands down the younger man’s body until he seized his ass and cupped both cheeks. Thomas moaned in response. His eyes flicked shut, and he inhaled deeply, smelling the dark yeasty ale Martin had drunk earlier in the night. He barely stopped himself from placing his lips on the bushy jaw and sucking there.

  “You’re in a bit of the bite, now, aren’t you?”

  He snorted. Martin’s way with words always made him smile; it was one of the things he adored about him.

  “Mr. Martin, I wish I could place your dialect. It’s a strange one indeed. Where did you say you resided again?”

  “Nowhere important.”

  He opened his eyes and held back from fixing the front of his breeches. His prick had risen, and it was most likely noticeable to a roving eye. But since he was alone with Martin, his erection wasn’t a cause for concern. He disregarded his want, however, and allowed ire to grow in its place.

  “I find it odd that although we have been intimate in every sense of the word, you still won’t give me a straight answer about your past or who your people are. Why is that? He eased out of Martin’s embrace and leaned against the headboard of the four-poster bed.

  Martin wiped the crown of his head, muscular biceps flexing under his sleeveless tan shirt. His lover never wore a jacket, and his shirt was always missing the sleeves.

  “I’m not one to share too many details about myself. The less you know, the better.”

  He unbuttoned his own dark-blue coat, allowing his body to cool in the humid air. “For whom, Martin? Or is that even your real name? Why won’t you tell me your first—”

  “We’ve been through this already. Why harp on the issue again? There are more important things to do than gab about our secrets.”

  He lifted his hands and then dropped them to his sides. “See, that’s the difference between you and me. I have no secrets. I’m an open book. You, though, are a mystery that refuses to be solved.”

  “Oh, you’re an open book? Heh. That’s one lie you have been tellin’ yourself right along, Thom.”

  What in God’s earth is he talking about? “I must have misunderstood just now. When have I ever lied?”

  Martin grabbed his arms. He tried to pull away, but it was no use. The man held him immobile.

  “You’ve been lying most of your life about this.” Martin swooped in for a deep kiss.

  He landed his palms on Martin’s chest and dug his fingers in the damp material of his shirt. Martin sweated a great deal more than he did, not that he minded in the least. He loved to lick the man’s brawny chest and flat stomach, addicted to his musky scent.

  All thoughts of arguing were soon forgotten as he curved his arms around Martin and drew him in close. His tongue slipped in Martin’s mouth and swiped the inside of his cheeks. Martin chuckled deeply and licked the roof of his mouth. He bit Martin’s bottom lip in response.

  Martin released him but only backed up a bare inch away from his face. “I’ve taught you well.” He shoved his hand between Thomas’s legs and fondled him through his pants.

  A shudder ran through him, and his cock grew harder. Martin’s expression told him the next few hours would be full of fucking and mindless pleasure.

  The Princess’s Valentine (Pirates of Flaundia #2.5)

  Daisy and her ex-pirate wife of one year have created a wonderful life together on an island paradise, after many years of separation and heartache. Daisy worries Chelsey has become bored and misses her life on the open seas. When she catches Chelsey in the arms of another, she runs away with a broken heart.

  Chelsey made the mistake of trusting an unscrupulous individual who ended up playing a cruel joke on her. Now she must regain Daisy’s trust before their relationship is ruined forever. She’ll use abduction and seduction to claim her princess’s heart and soul again.

  Excerpt:

  “Are you willing to enter my abode, Ms. Daisy?” Chelsey twined a piece of her hair around her finger and gave her a sultry look.

  She pressed her palms to her cheeks and dropped her jaw in fake shock. “I might be taking my life into my hands if I do.”

  “There’s that possibility.” Chelsey held out her arm. “But I’ll be here to protect you from all harm.”

  “And who will protect me from you?” she replied in a saucy tone, flipped her hair over one shoulder, and walked inside.

  Not much had changed. The roses still hung on the wall, and the floor and bed were covered in petals. But now, lit candles stood on shelves, and a sumptuous meal had been laid out on a table. A small velvet box lay on a plate and next to it was a slim, wider box.

  She rested her palm on her stomach. “I’m suddenly famished.”

  “You didn’t eat much of your breakfast?” Chelsey drew her forward.

  “I had a strawberry tart or two.” She sat in the chair Chelsey held out for her. “Those were a nice touch.”

  “I thought you’d enjoy them.” Chelsey sat down next to her. “It makes me remember better times with my mum, and with you when you were all sweet and innocent.”

  “I’m still sweet.” Daisy picked up a red grape and popped it into her mouth. “But no longer innocent, thanks to you.”

  Chelsey sat back, silently watching as she chewed. She grew self-conscious but brave enough to speak up. “You always stare at my mouth when I eat. Is it because you’re recalling all those naughty ways I use my mouth on you?”

  Chelsey cleared her throat and tapped her lip. “When I thought of us having our discussion, I didn’t think it would lead to you flirting with me.”

  “When you set the room for seduction, what else should I do?” She lifted a brow and popped another grape into her mouth.

  “We could always skip our important chat and put those grapes you’re sucking down to good use. And I can’t wait to lick the wine off your titties. But then nothing would be resolved between us.”

  The Countess’s Mistress (Pirates of Flaundia #3)

  Mrs. Julia Whitney, a widow of two years, blames herself for her husband’s suicide. She hides a dark secret that could ruin her good family’s name, which has become the target of cruel gossip because her sister has been locked away in an asylum for the criminally insane. She has no one to turn to for comfort, even though Isaiah, her former childhood friend, and father’s protégé wants to marry her.

  Things become complicated when she makes the acquaintance of Katherine, the Countess Guetall, who happens to be the cousin of the man Julia’s sister attacked and kidnapped. Kat
holds no ill will, and extends an olive branch in the hopes she and the timid widow can become friends.

  Kat’s affection heals Julia’s broken heart, and soon they embark on a secret love affair. When Isaiah learns of the affair, he resorts to blackmail and threats to claim Julia as his own. Julia may have no other choice but to comply with Isaiah’s wicked plan even if it means sacrificing herself in order to protect those she loves.

  Excerpt:

  Julia bit Kat’s finger before Kat pulled it away and swept her mouth over Julia’s moist one. She gasped and hugged Kat tight, lapping Kat’s lips until Kat increased the pressure of the kiss and their tongues tangled together.

  She ran her fingers through Julia’s hair, sharing decadent kisses, until she started to squirm from the dampness in between her legs. Julia sat still, her hands fisted in her lap. She wanted to feel Julia’s hands on all those key points on her body that would make her climax, but first she had to take care of Julia and bring her pleasure.

  She tilted Julia’s head to the side and broke the kiss. Julia’s eyes closed and she panted softly. She brushed Julia’s hair off her shoulder and licked the side of her throat. She smiled in satisfaction when Julia moaned and jerked when she sucked.

  “Ohhh…that’s lovely.” Julia curled her arms around Kat while Kat tasted and licked.

  “Want more kissing?” She ran her tongue down and over the top of Julia’s chemise, barely holding back from cupping the two small globes and the firm nipples spearing the fabric.

  “Yes. More.” Julia started to fall back on the floor. Kat drew her in tight and rose up on her knees.

  “Let’s go to the bed.” She helped Julia rise.

  “But…the dresses.” Julia’s head rolled across her shoulders as she drew one of Julia’s breasts out of her chemise and circled her nipple with a nail.

  “Don’t worry about them.” Using one hand, pushed the dress off Julia.

  The dress pooled at Julia’s feet. She wanted to undress, but she was too busy enjoying Julia’s breast and how it tasted in her mouth. She clutched at Kat, begging for more.

  She stepped toward the bed and lay Julia on the mattress and on top of the gowns. She arched when Kat snagged the front of her chemise and drew it down until both of Julia’s breasts were revealed.

  “Oh!” Julia gasped and gazed at her under heavy-lidded eyes.

  She chuckled, and tugging on both of Julia’s nipples, claimed Julia’s mouth with her own.

  Julia joined in on the kiss with a swipe of her tongue. She rubbed and nibbled, pressing her lips down hard. She circled and jabbed with her tone, mimicking the sex act she would soon do to Julia’s juicy plump quim. She bit Kat’s bottom lip and sucked in response.

  “You can bite, but I can’t?” She broke off the kiss to reclaim one of Julia’s breasts in her mouth.

  “I…oh,” Julia raised her arms over her head and lifted her hips against Kat who rocked back and forth. She spread open her legs and Kat inserted her knee, rubbing slowly over Julia’s mound.

  “I like that,” Julia whispered in a shy tone.

  She released the nipple with a pop. “I know something you’ll like more.” She wiggled down until her face hovered over the junction of Julia’s thighs. “Have you ever had your pretty cunny kissed before?”

  “No.” She peered at Kat but then turned her face away.

  “Don’t be embarrassed, my lady. I’m thrilled to be the first to pleasure you with my mouth and sip on your honey.” She curled her fingers around Julia’s knees. She folded them up to Julia’s chest and instructed her to hold them.

  The scent of Julia’s arousal wafted up to Kat’s face, and she groaned, anxious to taste Julia’s plump cunt shining with her excitement. She opened Julia’s folds with two fingers then curled a finger up and flicked the stiff bud that made her quiver and yelp Kat’s name.

  She didn’t waste any more time and dipped her face and lapped in between Julia’s legs, sucking and licking her moist cleft and playing with Julia’s pleasure button that caused her quim to swell and unfurl like a beautiful pink rose. She took a second to admire the dewy flesh then wrapped her mouth around the salty tissue, pumping her tongue back and forth and savoring the glistening dampness that would bring forth Julia’s climax.

  Steamy Nights, Cool Lights

  Kennedy Segal travels to Reykjavik, Iceland for a once in a lifetime business trip to sign a multi-million dollar deal for Segal Holdings, her older brother’s billion-dollar company. The first night she’s there, she meets an alluring woman only known as Marella, who tempts Kennedy in ways she has never been tempted before.

  What should have been a one-night stand, becomes more because Marella is also Svana Landvik, former European pop star who left it all behind to run one of the biggest breweries on Iceland.

  Kennedy’s mistake with Svana may ruin everything she has achieved, including the respect she has been striving for her entire life. But if Svana has her say, Kennedy may have a bright new future with a woman who wants much more than just a fling.

  Excerpt:

  She accepted a menu from the bartender, a handsome man near her age. He set down a cocktail napkin and said something in a strange language, probably Icelandic.

  Oh no. He doesn’t speak English? “I’m sorry. I don’t understand you.”

  “He said you have remarkable eyes.” A woman with no recognizable accent mounted the stool next to Kennedy.

  “Yes, you have very unique eyes.” The bartender pointed to his green ones.

  Kennedy’s face warmed. “It’s hereditary.”

  The woman nudged her arm. “You must feel special, then.”

  Her comeback stalled on her lips. The woman next to her had finely shaped eyebrows, one of which was pierced with a silver hoop. She also had a pixie cut with various shades of blonde highlights. Silver hoop earrings dangled from her ears, and her face was sharp but welcoming.

  “Um, hi,” she responded when she could speak again.

  Her seatmate wore a sexy-as-hell outfit consisting of a tight ivory blouse that barely restrained her ample chest, along with a knee-length leather skirt that looked painted on. Her black leather thigh-high stiletto boots encased her trim legs.

  “Hiya.” The woman grinned at her, highlighting a large freckle or mole near her plump upper lip. “You’re the first person I’ve met with different colored eyes.” She turned to the bartender “How about you, myndarlegur?”

  “Nei.” He dipped his head, showing a flag of red on his cheeks.

  The woman set her hand on the bar near his. “Aw, don’t be embarrassed. I’ll bet the lady gets the question a lot. Right?”

  “All the time.” Kennedy studied the woman’s hand, fascinated by her multiple silver rings, and shiny red nails. She curled her dull, unadorned fingers into her palms to hide them.

  The tip of the woman’s tongue grazed the corner of her mouth, staying there long enough for Kennedy to zone in on it. As soon as she realized what she did, she shifted her gaze back to the bartender.

  “Um, I’ll have a wine spritzer,” she requested.

  The woman said something in Icelandic to the bartender then laughed while he just smiled.

  She scrolled through her emails until curiosity got the better of her. Was this beautifully arresting woman making her the butt of a joke?

  “Since I’m not fluent in your language, would you mind telling me what you said to the bartender just now?”

  “She said she’ll have something stronger and to put yours on her tab,” the bartender responded in accented English and turned to make the drinks.

  “Seriously?”

  “About putting your drink on my tab? Absolutely.” The woman shrugged then held out her hand. “So I don’t end up calling you Wine Spritzer the entire night, we should share names. I’m Marella.”

  Her uncommon name sounded familiar. Instead of concentrating on why, she focused on the woman next to her. “My name is Kennedy.”

  “Welcome t
o Iceland, Kennedy.” Marella gave her hand a strong pump.

  “How do you know it’s my first time in your country? You’re a native, right?” She left her hand in the other woman’s, despite her usual preference for short handshakes.

  “Yes, I am. It’s obvious you’re visiting for the first time. Usually Americans order one of our beers or at least wine.” She loosened her hold but kept their fingers tangled together.

  Unsettled, Kennedy drew her hand back and laid it on her lap. Just far enough away so Marella wouldn’t have easy access, not that this very affable woman would do such a thing.

  “I don’t like beer.” She checked her phone. It had only been a few minutes since she sat down. Why did it seem time had slowed in Iceland?

  Marella gave her a sympathetic smile. “Between you and me, I’m not a fan of beer either. I prefer wine.”

  The bartender returned with their drinks, and Marella requested he keep her tab open.

  Kennedy lifted her glass. “Is everyone here like you? I mean, do your people go out of their way to buy tourists drinks?”

  “I’ve done it a few times. This is one of my favorite hotels in Reykjavik to have a few drinks, especially on a Friday night after work. Their happy hour is also one of the best.” Marella pointed to the small plastic tabletop display, indicating the happy hour times and specials in English. “Skál.”

  “Skál?” Kennedy winced as she murdered the word.

  “It’s Icelandic for cheers and good health.” Marella tapped her glass to Kennedy’s and took a sip.

  She spoke the foreign word much clearer this time. As she sipped, she watched Marella drink her wine, a dark red that almost matched her nail color.

  “Hm, I love a good Merlot.” Marella lowered her glass and licked her lips, flashing something metallic in her mouth.