Sugar and Sin Bundle

by Stacey Joy Netzel

  Michael kept exploring her till she started to moan. She was so silky, so wet, his mouth watered to taste her clit on the end of his tongue. Not yet, he thought, first he wanted to feel her body catch fire against his, feel her heart rate rise, hear her pant with longing and scream with release. She reached back and ran her fingers through his hair. Her touch made him ache. Violet took his trapped hand and began nibbling and sucking on the fingers. Now, it was Michael’s turn to moan.

  Yes, I want him to enjoy this, Violet thought. After so many months of hoping, and now finally lying here with him. She shifted her hips slightly and gasped. “Oh, yes. There.” The words were out of her mouth before she could think. He obliged, and she felt her clit harden like stone. He must have felt it, too, as he teased her. Her mind went numb to thought. There was only sensation, the flutter of kisses on her neck, the salty taste of his fingers in her mouth, a thrumming at her back, the building tension in her core. She felt it first as a tickle at the back of her brain, within seconds she was gripped with wave after wave of sensation, not only where Michael continued to touch her, stroking at that most sensitive part, but her mind also wheeled. She felt her hips crush against his hand. She bit down on his thumb in her mouth. Felt him bite gently into her shoulder. Heard herself loose a strangled cry. Then she was left panting. Michael’s arms came up around her pinning her hard against his chest.

  “Did I hurt you? It all happened so fast. I didn’t mean to bite down on your thumb. I've missed your touch.”

  “Mmm, no, you didn't hurt me. Just a love bite.”

  “When you were touching me, I felt something against my back that had a mind of its own and a definite pulse.” She was smiling wickedly now.

  "Michael, I will make love to you tonight." She was grinning from ear to ear. With that, she pushed him to his back and pinned him to the bed. Her hands were splayed on his shoulders, his hips secure under hers, her thighs clasping them, she had her feet behind her tucked between his thighs.

  He still didn’t think it would work, but seeing her astride him looking so happy and delicious, he almost didn’t care that there might be no release. She was so warm, and the weight of her felt so good. And...what was she doing with her hips? This was breathtaking. She had a beguiling smile on her face as she continued with her hip twirling. He couldn’t speak, but he didn’t think she expected conversation. She leaned forward now, and her hair cascaded over him. He raised his arms over his head to get lost in it. She continued the twirling motion of her hips. She teased him with her nipples just out of reach of his mouth. He did feel odd down there. She was sitting directly over him now with one hand stroking his belly. It was all so luxurious, he lay back and closed his eyes. Oh God, what was she doing? His mind reeled, and his eyes flew open. The sensation was not painful but startling after nothing for so long.

  She had done her homework, which made her smile thinking about it. No one could make any promises, but with what she had read, using repeated stimulation, engaging his mind, the ED drugs, all should mean he would at least have a chance. Maybe it didn’t matter. He was enjoying how she felt and looked on top of him. He was startled when she stopped and got off him. But that was nothing compared to his surprise following her gaze at his penis. Holy hell! His mind whirled.

  “I believe I was correct then, Doctor.” She was laughing at him while she slid her fingers up and down the still wet shaft. “Well, what do you want to do with it now?”

  “I’d like you back up where you were..” he growled. “I’d like to make love to you—you my own brave, beautiful Lady Godiva.”

  Even in the half light she could see his eyes shining. She did as he asked. He reached his arms out and massaged her breasts pulling her down and forward so he could bathe the nipples with his tongue. She used her feet to spread his legs and then, arching her back, reached behind her and found his perineum and began stroking it. She saw his eyes roll back in his head. That was accompanied by a low throaty moan. She could feel him stiffen inside her. She loved what she was doing to him and what he was doing to her. Then suddenly her breath caught in her throat. She could feel herself tense, get tight, and then close on him again and again. Oh God, that was what was missing. He felt so good inside her. She fought to remain upright. She heard him keen, and then she collapsed on top of him. He pulled her in close, both of them panting.

  She had hurt him, she knew it. This wasn’t a nip on the finger. She was sure she had wounded him. Why else would he scream like that? She steeled herself to look up into his face. He looked in shock. “Oh, Michael, I love you so much. I’m sorry,” she whispered.

  He snapped out of his reverie. He turned them both over so that now she was pinned under him with her legs wrapped around his hips.

  “Sorry! You’re sorry? You’ve raised the dead and you’re sorry?”

  She was so confused. “I heard you scream, I... thought I hurt you when I...” Now she blushed. He laughed deeply, till tears formed in his eyes. Then kissed her till she was laughing too.

  "Violet, I know this will sound ridiculous considering everything I have done with and to you but—damn this is embarrassing. I... I had never done that before. He looked to the side so she couldn't see his face. She reached over and turned his face to hers.

  "Michael, are you saying what I think you are saying?" She was grinning from ear to ear.

  "Violet, if you start laughing I swear..."

  "I only laugh at you when you’re being an ass, remember? No, I want to scream to the world. How long do those pills last? No, I don't care. So, all that and no ill effects, right? I mean, other than the scream, which I'll chalk up to not knowing exactly what it was all going to feel like." She was so excited she was talking a mile a minute.

  Then she licked her lips.

  "Darling, we have an awful lot of catching up to do. Can you stand me to touch you yet?"

  "You can always touch me."

  "You may regret saying that."

  Epilogue

  "How are the wedding plans going, darling?"

  "Aaaghhh!"

  "That well." Michael started laughing.

  "Oh, you have no idea. You get to just glide in and.... Are you laughing at me?"

  "Never, dear. Maybe you’re just feeling more emotional than usual."

  "What is that supposed to mean? Why do you have that smirk on your face? Oh, has Cam agreed to be your best man?"

  "Yes. You know we could just go get married at City Hall. Avoid all the bother."

  "And wouldn't you be surprised if I said yes!"

  "We may want to move the wedding up, dear."

  "What? I don't know how I'm going to get everything done as it is."

  "Well, it will be your first, so you shouldn't show too much."

  "Wait. What? My first...wedding? It will be my only damn wedding, I can tell you."

  "No, dear, um, in all the excitement you haven't forgotten something? Something that shows up fairly regularly, monthly to be exact."

  "Michael, I am up to my ears in plans. The invasion of Normandy was less work. What are you talking about?"

  “Violet, dear, you are pregnant. At least I suspect so."

  "I'm what?"

  "With child. My child. Hence, the ridiculous grin I can't get rid of. Um, that first night, we were rather focused on other things. We never really considered protection. I especially should have known better, but..."

  "That can't be right. I got my period, didn’t I? Oh! Oh, Michael!"

  "Violet, is it so awful?"

  "No, just a shock. I'm scared."

  "I promise to be with you every step of the way. So, Violet, can we just elope? Tell a few friends, be done with the formalities. I want to spend every minute I can with my wife and child. God, in a million years I never thought I'd say that."

  Violet let the papers she was holding fall to the floor. Walking over to Michael, she sat on his lap. "I want that, too. I suppose this means I am not your kitten anymore?"

  "You will alwa
ys be my kitten. Quite frankly, I think that when you are nine months pregnant I will still want you to walk around naked, if for no other reason than I find you breathtaking. Though for the sake of the children, things would have to get a little tamer."

  "Children?"

  "Oh, yes. A village to fill this huge house of yours, my Lady Godiva."

  ***

  Writing a story with a paralyzed romance hero may seem odd but I have no doubt that they are out there. I tried to be sensitive to the actualities of what may or may not be possible for a man with that level of impairment. Every spinal injury patient is different and I drew inspiration from many factual sources. If you or a loved one has a spinal cord injury I recommend the following sites for more information.

  http://www.spinalcord.uab.edu/show.asp?durki=21720

  http://www.christopherreeve.org/

  http://www.nationalmssociety.org

  ***

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the written permission of the the publisher.

  This is a work of fiction, names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental. Trademarks are the property of their respective owners.

  His Lady Godiva

  L.C. Giroux

  Copyright L.C. Giroux 2011

  License Statement

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people except under the lending programs authorized by some e-tailers. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each reader. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to the vendor of your choice and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  ***

  LOVE BY DESIGN

  Liz Matis

  Little Hondo Press, Contact: littlehondopress@yahoo.com

  Copyright © 2011 by Liz Matis

  Print ISBN: 978-0-9840098-7-9

  Digital ISBN: 978-0-9840098-0-0

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or utilized in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, scanning, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system now known or hereafter invented, without permission in writing from the author.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Smashwords Edition: October 2011

  This book is dedicated to my husband Chris. After 26 years of marriage I think we can safely say we got our happy ever after.

  Love is a voyage my infinitive woman

  Fusion of two bodies blasted in our delectable passions

  Your look is mine, my love

  Your lips are my lips

  Your breath, your heartbeats, all is mine

  You are my love

  My fingers trail your naked flesh, a thin stardust line,

  Delicate pure and with goddess dew

  Unflawed body of petals and honey

  Then a kiss

  Nothing persist but the wind

  Nothing persist but our midnight moans

  Nothing persist, only air and water, moonlight and whispers

  Labyrinth of shadowy hands

  Burning skins

  Burning in our own blood

  Penetrating each other’s veins

  Juan M. Frisanccio Muñoz

  Chapter 1

  Victoria tossed the head shot of Russ Rowland onto the conference room table. “Why him?”

  Ava picked up the photo and waved it under her client’s nose. “Have you gone blind? The man is smoking hot. You two are going to look great together.”

  No, she hadn’t gone blind. When it came to gorgeous men her vision was twenty-twenty. Her inner sight, however, could use coke-bottle glasses. Victoria ignored the glossy print and turned away to look out the window of the towering skyscraper. Steam rose from the rain-soaked pavement of the hot New York City streets. Despite the air conditioning chilling her skin, she longed for the cool breezes of the family home in the Hamptons, even if her mother was currently in residence. “Design Intervention is not a reality dating show. You’re my friend. You’re supposed to do what’s best for me.”

  “In this room I’m your agent. And I am doing what’s best for you.”

  She turned from the window, rubbing her arms. “Have you seen his show in Australia? It’s one step away from porn.”

  “But an important step. Besides, nothing wrong with a man using power tools while shirtless.” Ava tapped the picture. “Nothing at all.”

  Victoria didn’t need the photo to remember the man was Playgirl material. Not that she read Playgirl. Well, not since college anyway. “It’s one thing to be on TV with a fabulous male gay designer, it’s another to be on with a half-naked, very straight man. The paparazzi will have a field day. Mother throws a fit every time I’m on Page Six.”

  “Ratings are the name of the game. So if the pho-hogs take your picture, you smile nice. Besides, your mother doesn’t scare you. What are you really afraid of?”

  “Nothing.” Everything. Would she be able to back up the first season’s success without Neil? And despite Ava saying so, Victoria was afraid that her mother was right about everything. From how she wore her hair to her career to the most contentious subject between them: marriage. “Couldn’t I just do the show solo until Neil gets back?”

  “One, we don’t know when he’ll be back.” A long silence followed.

  Victoria arched an eyebrow. “And two?”

  “I hate to break it to you, but you can’t carry a show on your own. You need the back and forth interplay. And as beautiful as your designs are, the audience stays tuned to watch the antics between you and Neil.”

  She hated that Ava was right. Viewers may love the big reveal at the end, but according to the fan letters, they were equally fascinated with the relationship between the two co-hosts. Some days it was like a damn soap opera. But Victoria needed Neil, not some surfer dude who decorated like a beach bum. This Russ probably didn’t know the difference between silk and satin, and thought stripping referred to him peeling off his shirt instead of refurbishing old furniture.

  This was Neil’s fault. Victoria knew that was unfair. Dear sweet Neil, how could she be upset with him? While her co-host flew to his mother’s bedside in Arizona, she was whining about starring in a design show with a hunky, straight male, and an Aussie to boot. She must stop feeling sorry for herself. Stop depending on others for her happiness. She grinned at her agent. “You know what Neil would say?”

  “Oh, this is going to be good,” encouraged Ava.

  Victoria snapped her fingers and lowered her voice two octaves. “Honey, I wish he’d go all down-under on me.”

  She and Ava shared a laugh. She needed Neil’s sense of humor. Needed him to be the co-star of this show, which he had conceptualized and named. Production should wait. Neil was fun, smart, cute, and gay. While Russ had predator written all over him. Her laugh faded. “He’s going to be difficult. He’ll try to take over.”

  “He won’t be a problem.”

  “He’s already a half an hour late. Keeping the network executives waiting is really impressive.” Victoria shook out the negative feelings swamping her. This was all wrong without Neil, but he’d assured her it was the right thing to do—the only thing to do.

  Ava handed her Russ’s picture. “Come on, the ratings will go through the roof. You’ll get your design line for sure.”


  That’s all Victoria ever wanted since she could put crayon to paper—her own design line. She’d created her logo at the age of fourteen. Designed her friends’ bedrooms even as her own mother refused Victoria free reign in her own room. All through high school her mother steered her towards law so she’d make the perfect politician’s wife. Victoria would nod and in secret she would dream and sketch. Now that she was so close to proving her mother wrong, would working with Russ hurt or help her cause?

  She examined his image. Russ’s burnished blond hair fell in waves past his neck in such a way that begged for her fingers to dive in and explore its texture. His dazzling smile mocked her as if he knew she craved to kiss the photo like some thirteen-year-old. And to top it off, his light brown eyes colored like the hues of the outback at sunrise stared back, daring her to do so.

  If a two-dimensional photo made her feel like a feline predator ready to pounce, what feelings would the 3D version churn out? She would just have to deal with it. Not that she had much choice, as they say, ‘The show must go on.’ “I can handle him.”