“I was in the shower. I came so fucking hard I thought I was going to pass out,” he admitted gruffly. “Can you wear those tomorrow? The overalls?”
She nodded then cleared her throat when she realized he couldn’t see her. “Yes. If you want me to.”
“Hell yeah. I want to unwrap you like a present. No bra. Pinch your nipples for me now, Frankie,” he murmured.
She covered one breast with her hand and tweaked her nipple. Her body was already in overdrive from the night of almost unbearable tension, and excitement and wetness flooded her center. She pinched again, more sharply this time, and gasped.
“I love that sound.” Mac groaned. “Do it again. Play with your nipple and imagine it’s my mouth, my tongue, my teeth. I can’t wait to cup those full, gorgeous breasts in my hands. Do you remember the second car I brought you, Frankie?”
She writhed against her hand as she plucked at the straining tip of her breast. “No,” she breathed.
“The Z-28. You were leaving midday to go to the dentist. It was summertime, and you had on a halter top with tiny little roses on it. All I could think about was sliding it down and covering one of those luscious breasts with my mouth. Kneading the other with my hand. Want to know something really dirty?”
She did. So much. “Yes,” she whispered, grinding the heel of her palm against her pubic bone.
“Every day for a week I had the same dream. You were naked on your knees in front of me.” His voice went rough, guttural, and she strained to understand him, desperate for the words and the sensations they caused. “I didn’t even ask. You just opened your beautiful mouth and welcomed me inside. Deep, deep inside. Working your tongue, pulling and sucking me off until I was ready to come.”
“Un-huh.” Her legs had begun to quake as she arched against her hand now, the tension in her thighs building.
“Then you’d stop and raise up to kiss my stomach. I could feel your tits on my cock, your hard nipples brushing my thighs. You’d press my dick between your breasts and squeeze. It felt like dying. You’d start to move, bouncing high on your knees, then down again, faster and faster, squeezing tighter and tighter. Right when I thought I’d die, you would stare up at me, those gorgeous lips swollen from sucking my cock. Right as I was about to come, I’d wake up. I’d be so fucking hard, so ready, I’d grip it and give it one stroke and explode.”
“I want you to do that now. Let me hear you,” she begged.
“Oh yeah. You too. Are you touching yourself?”
“Yes. Outside my underwear.”
“Take them off,” he growled.
Her whole body shook as she put the phone down and stripped off her clothes. She’d never felt so desperate for an orgasm, so wild and out of control in her life. Scooping up the phone, she lay back down and slipped a hand between her legs. The wet heat engulfed her fingers, soaking them. She let out a hiss.
“That’s it,” he crooned. “Is your pussy wet for me, Frankie? Because my cock has never been so hard.”
“Yes, I’m wet. So wet, and I want you inside me so bad,” she whimpered.
She could hear the creaking of his bed through the phone now, and the slow, steady beat set her aflame. There was no question what he was doing.
Desire as reckless as a fighter jet in freefall…and just as dangerous.
Double Down
© 2012 Katie Porter
Vegas Top Guns, Book 1
As part of the 64th Aggressor Squadron, Major Ryan “Fang” Haverty flies like the enemy to teach Allied pilots how not to die. The glittering excess of the Strip can’t compare to the glowing jet engines of his F-16. But a sexy, redheaded waitress in seamed stockings? Now she gets his blood pumping.
Cassandra Whitman’s good-girl ways haven’t earned any slack from her manager ex-boyfriend, or prevented a bad case of frazzle from holding down two and a half jobs. She sure wouldn’t mind letting the handsome Southern charmer shake up her routine.
Their wild weekend lives up to Sin City’s reputation. Especially when they discover a matched passion for roleplaying. For Cass, it’s an exciting departure from her normal, shy persona. But for Ryan, it triggers memories of a time when his fetish drove away the woman he loved—leaving him reluctant to risk a repeat performance.
Except Cass refuses to settle for ordinary ever again. She’s about to show the man with hair-trigger hands that she’s got a few surprise moves of her own.
Warning: This book contains dirty-hot roleplaying, featuring an all-alpha fighter pilot and an ambitious waitress with a fabulous imagination. Also: dressing-room sex, a plaid schoolgirl skirt, and a sprinkling of spankings.
Enjoy the following excerpt for Double Down:
She assessed her appearance in the bathroom’s full-length mirror. For the hundredth time. No change. She still looked like a naughty fantasy.
A French maid. She should’ve guessed.
Her grin took on a distinctly sexual edge, which she didn’t mind at all. The blush too felt right—a little self-conscious, a little anxious. Already the temperature in her blood upped toward scalding.
“You greedy slut,” she whispered to her reflection, the grin broadening. “One great time wasn’t enough.”
Her nerves stretched and stretched as she waited. She’d ordered room service and managed to take a quick shower. Her hair was still wet, but she’d bound it in a sleek bun at the base of her neck. A light application of the cosmetics she’d snagged during a two-minute run through a store in The Paris’s lobby had done wonders to hold back the look of fatigue.
Ryan’s knock, when it came, sped her heartbeat. If she played the French maid, she wondered what he would be. A bedraggled traveler who’d had the buttons yanked off his shirt? A down-on-his-luck gambler?
And just how far would she push this? Cass had spent the last hour trying to get inside his head. There was a huge gulf between a bit of dress-up and full roleplaying. She was almost surprised at how much she wanted it to be the latter. Something that tipped over, deep inside. Something had unlocked. She could be anything, say anything, do anything.
The worst he would do is laugh, maybe flash that pulse-pounding smile and tell her to drop the act. He might merely be a guy after something different to look at, but that didn’t feel right, not for Ryan. She had a guess as to what he liked, and she was willing to give it a shot.
His knock was more insistent the second time. Good. She didn’t like to think that he’d give up on her.
Cass took a deep breath and opened the door.
Ryan stood at the threshold wearing a fantastic dress uniform. The dark blue did marvelous things for his healthy tan, and the braided silver trim looked impressively realistic. Navy? No, that wasn’t right. Air Force, maybe?
More than the color and the authenticity of the costume, she loved how it was exactly tailored to his body—tall and lean, long and strong. Only a slack, bewildered expression gave away his response to her maid’s outfit. Otherwise he embodied everything impressive and sexy about a man in uniform.
“Oh! Monsieur Haverty,” she said in her best French accent. A year spent studying art in Paris would finally prove good for something. “I hadn’t expected you so soon. Merci, come in.”
He hesitated for only a second. Then the reality of what she’d done and said—how she sounded—seemed to click in his brain. “Thank you. I didn’t expect to be kept waiting.”
“My apologies, monsieur. I was only just finishing up.”
“I don’t appreciate sloppy service.”
She nibbled her bottom lip, daring to glance up from beneath lowered lashes. He surveyed the hotel room with the air of a man who expected perfection and found it lacking. A curious heat bloomed in her stomach, reveling in his command of the moment.
She’d been right. The man wanted to play.
“Your room-service order is waiting for you in the bedroom,” she said, pitching her voice toward conciliatory. “As you requested.”
“Oh?” He lifted his br
ows. “I’m curious if you managed to get that right, at least.”
She ushered him into the bedroom where a rolling silver-tone cart was topped with a plate of fresh fruit and a bottle of champagne on ice. She’d ordered the items no matter the sticker shock, figuring they’d sort out paying for it later. Tonight was about living a fantasy.
Ryan strolled to the cart. His expression verged on haughty as he surveyed the assortment. “Good enough.”
“I’m pleased, Monsieur Haverty.”
“It’s Major Haverty, actually.”
“Major?”
“Yes. And you are?”
“Cassandra,” she said, briefly shaking hands. That same electric zap they’d shared from the first moment reappeared, only stronger. She almost dropped character. Ryan’s teasing grin made a brief reappearance, as if he too was tempted to laugh.
Then it was gone. He was Major Haverty again.
“Where are you from, Cassandra?”
“Montparnasse, in Paris.”
Dear Lord, he was unbelievably handsome in that uniform. She wondered again where he’d picked it up. Had he returned to the sex shop? Or someplace else? He stood with his shoulders back, his posture firm and solid. The thought turned her on in funny, unpredictable ways. The roleplaying was easy to indulge when he fit the part so perfectly.
“What do you do in the military? Is it the Air Force?”
“That’s right,” he said. “I fly fighter jets. F-16s.”
Cass’s jaw dropped. He could do that all day, adding facts to his character that would’ve seriously jeopardized the absorbency of her panties—had she been wearing any.
No matter how fabulous Ryan looked, her hands were restless for wanting to see him stripped. Something about his expression, however, told her he’d be the one giving orders.
Yes, sir.
“Well, I should finish up my duties.” So breathless now, she heard her accent slipping.
She turned to leave the bedroom, but he called out, “Miss? Could you help me first?”
“My pleasure, monsie—I mean, Major.”
He seemed to stifle a private smile. “This coat.” He began undoing the buttons. “It’s too hot in here for it. I won’t be able to get comfortable.”
“I should think not.” She crossed the floor, her knees shaky. “Here, let me help.”
He dropped his arms to his sides as she undid the remaining buttons. Her breath was coming in fitful gulps, but she forced herself to concentrate.
Calm down.
By the looks of how they were playing this hand, they would take their time. She needed to get herself under control or she’d wind up begging for a quickie down on the carpet to cut the tension. What she loved about their game was what would rip her up inside. The waiting. The deliberate buildup.
She pressed her hands flat against his body, right above his ribs. Slowly, slowly, she smoothed them up the inside of his coat, making love to his chest with her palms and her fingertips. His shoulders were tense. Corded ropes of muscles bunched and relaxed beneath her touch. She eased the dress coat over his shoulders then down his brawny arms.
Through it all he held his tense stance, chin thrust out. She liked to think she had all of him at attention, but she didn’t dare go for his crotch. Not yet.
The coat dropped to the floor behind him. “Thank you,” he said curtly. “You can hang that up now.”
Cass hid her smile. She angled her backside in such a way that he would get the choicest view as she bent at the waist. She took her time, first retrieving the coat, then strolling to the closet where she found a hanger. Every action felt bathed in molasses, so achingly slow. In that hotel room, time had ceased.
A pop sound yanked her heart into her throat. She turned to find Ryan pouring champagne. The pale blue dress shirt did even better things for his tan than the dark coat. Muscles pulled and shifted with every movement. Her mouth watered at the prospect of seeing him fully nude. They’d shared so much so quickly, but damn did they have a long way to go.
“Come,” he said.
“So soon?”
His gaze jumped to hers. His expression told her she was naughty to risk ruining their charade. “Cut the impertinence, miss. Come here.”
She toyed with the lace edge of her skirt as she approached. His eyes jumped and danced, as if trying to take in everything.
He handed her a full champagne flute before downing a big gulp from his. Maybe he wasn’t as controlled as he managed to appear. “Now, drink.”
Cass dove in for a healthy sip. The bubbles went straight to her oxygen-starved brain. Ryan made her half-drunk already. The alcohol didn’t stand a chance when compared to his blatant sex appeal.
“I want you to do something for me,” he said, his voice tight and low.
“Anything. Anything you need.”
“Go sit on that loveseat.”
Cass willed her feet to move. She crossed away from the serving cart and sat primly on the edge of the loveseat’s stiff cushion.
The window behind her allowed the lights of the Strip to shine in, bathing his face and his crisp, pale blue shirt in color. She just waited, perched there, loving the way he touched her everywhere with his hot gaze.
“Cassandra,” he said softly.
“Oui?”
“I’m going to go down on you.”
Gone Country
Lorelei James
She’s a little bit country, and he’s…not.
Rough Riders, Book 14
Arizona businessman and long-lost McKay love child Gavin Daniels has been awarded sole custody of his teenage daughter Sierra for one year. In order to steer Sierra back on track after a brush with the law, he pulls up stakes and heads to Wyoming, looking for support from his ranching family…even if he isn’t sure where they fit in the McKay dynamic. He’s prepared for every contingency with the move: the less-than-enthusiastic response from his daughter, learning to run his corporation remotely, but he’s thrown for a loop when his new housemate, Rielle, is a whole lot sexier, funnier and sassier than he remembered.
Rielle Wetzler has finally overcome the stigma of having hippie parents and being a young single mother. In the two years since she sold her ailing B&B to Gavin Daniels, she’s become financially stable running the homespun businesses she loves. But now Gavin is in Sundance to claim the house that’s rightfully his. Although Rielle knew this day would come, she isn’t prepared to leave the home she built for herself and her now-grown daughter. And to further complicate matters, her long-dormant libido is definitely not ready to live with this newly buff Gavin—who isn’t a cowboy, but has the take-charge attitude to prove he’s all McKay.
Sharing a roof, their troubles and their triumphs is too much temptation, and before long, Gavin and Rielle are sharing a bed. But sharing their hearts and lives forever? That’s a whole ’nother ball of wax.
Warning: Contains a feisty, independent heroine who doesn’t need a man to take care of her needs outside the bedroom and a sweet, sexy and bossy hero who’s up to the challenge of proving her wrong
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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.
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Gone Country
Copyright © 2012 by LJLA, LLC
ISBN: 978-1-61921-529-0
Edited by Lindsey Faber
Cover by Scott Carpenter
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Table of Contents
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Gone Country: Rough Riders, Book 14 Page 42