by Kate Douglas
She sensed Stefan’s laughter, his love for Xandi, for all of them.
Merry Christmas, guys. Always glad to be of service.
Then searching lips once more found hers. Stefan faded away, and all she thought of was Anton.
Like to watch? Here’s a sneak peek
at Karin Tabke’s sizzling
“Stakeout,” from
THE HARD STUFF.
Available now from Kensington…
“Who said size doesn’t matter?” Stevie asked.
Must have been a little man with a little…
She whistled admiringly at the package, grateful for the unexpected perk.
Grinning, she dragged her eyes for a breathless second from the high-powered telescope and looked over her shoulder. The last thing she wanted was for one of the task force guys her lieutenant insisted on saddling her with to think she was some hard-up sexpot.
She laughed out loud. Okay, maybe she was. It had been too long since she last felt the sinful pressure of a man between her legs. And it wasn’t because she was a prude. Unfortunately, the most intriguing prospects were the same ones she’d sworn off for years: cops.
She’d learned the hard way not to be the company inkwell. Too many hassles. Too many knowing grins from her fellow officers, followed by suggestive wolf whistles.
Nope, she made damn sure she wasn’t the hot topic of any lineup. Besides, since her promotion to detective two years ago, she didn’t have time for a relationship anyway.
She shrugged and focused back on her subject.
Mario Vincente Spoltori, aka Rocky. Not an original alias, but hell, the man was a walking hard-on. And she bet he gave granite a run for its money.
She’d been surveilling the escort for nearly a week, and finally after tedious hours of watching the paint dry, she got her first look at what the privileged ladies of Sacramento couldn’t get enough of.
And mamma mia, there was plenty to go around.
She couldn’t blame the ladies who waited months to get an hour of this notorious stud’s time. No more than she could help that familiar tingle between her legs. Not for Mario. As delightful as she was sure he was in the sack, she was more straight-laced. One-nighters weren’t something she actively pursued. She’d only had one in her life, and although it was the best sex she’d ever had, and she would have followed the guy to the ends of the earth, the whole experience left her feeling…well, tawdry.
He never called.
No use thinking about a guy she’d never see again.
Prick.
Shaking her head, Stevie gave rock-hard Rocky her full attention, and for a minute put aside the fact he was the reason she’d worked round the clock for the last three months.
She laughed and thought how ironic her current predicament was. Here she was, a perfectly healthy female, and she was considering paying for stud service. Her life was too hectic for anything less than the occasional quickie. And as picky as she was, her options were severely limited.
Strictly as a woman to his man, Stevie considered Rocky’s slick muscles and generous endowment. She sighed. Too bad she wasn’t into this kind of stuff.
He bent over, flexing his taut ass at her, and continued the slow slide of his underwear down his thighs before he kicked them off.
Well…maybe…nah. Besides, on her cop salary she’d have to give up a lot of somethings for a roll in the hay with the likes of the Italian Stallion across the way.
“Oh, you selfish bastard.”
What a waste. Looked like Adonis was sneaking some of the goodies. As big as his cock was, his hand was larger. He stood stark naked facing her in front of his exposed window and started across the wide boulevard that separated their respective buildings.
He smirked, closed his eyes, tilted his head back, and put on a show. If she didn’t know better, she’d swear he knew he had an audience.
Impossible. While his windows were transparent, the small, stuffy office she’d begun to detest had a dark film covering the window, with just a small square cut out for her ever-watchful eyes. No way could he know he was under surveillance.
Stevie dismissed that thought and instead zeroed her attention back on what God had so benevolently given the man. His long dark fingers grasped his rod and in a slow pump he manipulated it to staggering proportions. Stevie licked her dry lips.
Jesus.
His hips ground against an imaginary pussy and he bit at his bottom lip.
Faster and faster he pumped. Stevie’s breath held when he splayed himself up against the window, still pumping. Her skin warmed. She didn’t want to get sucked in by his erotic display, but she did nonetheless.
She screamed and about jumped out of her skin when the pressure of a large hand squeezed her shoulder.
“Am I interrupting?”
Her shock caused her to lose her balance and fall backward off her chair. As she was trying to catch herself, two large, very capable hands grabbed her. The touch sent shock waves through her body. She had the undeniable inclination to rub herself up against the hard thigh that supported her back.
“Christ, what the hell?” she yelled, collecting herself and sitting up. Quickly she twisted around and pulled her piece.
She felt the blood drain from her face.
Son of a bitch.
“Jack Thornton.”
“It’s been a long time, Detective Cavanaugh.” His grin rivaled a wide-open barn door. He seemed taller, more muscled. The faint smile lines at the corners of his deep-set hazel eyes accentuated his natural mischievous nature.
She braced herself.
Humiliation and excitement riveted through her, running neck and neck for the finish line. Her skin flushed hot and she resisted the urge to lick her dry lips.
Instead, she did what any woman scorned would do. She slapped him. Hard. White imprints of her fingers stood boldly out against the tan of his cheek. Before her hand returned home, he grabbed it. He yanked her hard against him, the connection forcing her breath from her chest. Her sensitive nipples stiffened against the hardness of his chest.
“Was that because I didn’t call you or because I wouldn’t let you get on top?”
Visions of their sweaty, naked bodies writhing in passion amongst the twisted sheets in her academy dorm room sprang to mind. Jack Thornton could give Rocky across the way a few lessons in pleasing a woman. Her chest tightened while other emotions she chose to ignore vied for playtime.
Stevie’s breath hitched high in her throat. “That was because you’re an egotistical bastard.” She pushed hard against him. He released her. She holstered her Sig.
Thorn continued to grin, but the harsh glare of his eyes belied his mirth. “What’s so egotistical about making love to a beautiful woman?”
Despite the warmth of the room, her nipples stood at full mast. Stevie pulled on her jacket. The last thing she wanted was to give his inquiring eyes a show.
“More like seducing a virgin.”
Thorn moved in closer. “That was your choice, Stevie, not mine.” He grinned like an idiot. “By the way, thanks for picking me.”
After so many years, the shock of seeing the only man she’d ever had feelings for forced her off balance. The sensation left her angry, and scared.
He backed up at her fist.
“Go ahead, dickhead,” she said, “keep the BS coming, I don’t need more of an excuse to nail you.”
“I need less of one to nail you.” He stepped forward, his face a happy place. “Since we’re both in agreement, what do you say, my place after we’re done?
“Pig.”
“Pride in Grace, don’t I know it.”
Stevie couldn’t believe it. The only guy she’d dreamed about stood in front of her more than willing to go back down that seductive road with her. If her pride weren’t at stake, and her heart unwilling to get squashed again, she’d have her running shoes on.
“What are you doing here?”
Casually he walked past her and look
ed out the tinted window. He gave the long expanse of buildings quiet contemplation. As if he’d just come back from a coffee break, he righted the tipped-over chair, then sat down, and focused in across the way.
“Hmmm, looks like the Italian Stallion over there needs a clean up on aisle nine.”
Regaining her composure, Stevie swung the lens from him, and squatting level with it, she zeroed in herself. Geez, Rocky had his chum all over the window. “I swear, you guys just love to spread that stuff around, don’t you?”
Thorn pulled the lens his way and refocused. “Yeah, it’s what we do. Men hunt and propagate the species, women nurture and gather. Basic.”
Stevie’s eyes narrowed. Neanderthal. She’d been too starry-eyed to see it in the academy seven years ago; at least she’d evolved since then.
She pulled the lens back her way and focused on Rocky. “That’s it, clean up your mess,” she said to the gigolo. Then, as if to herself, she said, “I wonder if there was some kind of statute back then about instructors fraternizing with students?”
Thorn leaned in behind her. “No.” His hot breath against her ear stirred up old familiar heat. His clean, woodsy scent engulfed her. Her blood thickened in her veins and whatever hormones she had that induced sex surged through her body. She clenched her muscles before they turned to warm mush.
Stevie remembered how she couldn’t wait for her defensive tactics classes. Sergeant Jack Thornton was her instructor, and she repeatedly paid with bruises to be his test dummy.
She almost laughed. She’d had such a crush on him from the get-go. Little did she know she’d end up his parting gift.
“How’s the wife and kid?”
He pulled away. “You know my divorce was final before graduation.” His eyes clouded. “My stepson is with his father.”
Stevie inhaled a deep breath and slowly exhaled. She didn’t give a rat’s ass about his home life.
“What are you doing here, Thorn?”
He grinned and stood back from the telescope. Casually he pulled back his Italian-cut suit and said, “Special Agent Thornton at your service, ma’am.”
Renée Alexis presents “Reacquainted.”
And it feels so good.
From GOTTA HAVE IT.
Available now from Kensington…
The tour along Lake Shore Drive was amazing. Caroline had seen it many times, but never from the window of a Porsche. It was a beautiful, sunny day, a more perfect day hadn’t been created, and what made it absolutely perfect was that she would be spending it in Marc’s arms. The minute they entered his mansion, she knew she’d wrap herself around him so tightly that they’d make the first human rubberband. She could actually feel Marc sliding that hulking thick meat into her and shattering what was left of her sanity. That was what she needed. No man in her past left an impression upon her the way he did with one evening in a shower. From that point on in her life, wherever she moved to, she made sure the shower was on jam!
Marc took her mind from her bathroom orgasm. “Hey, pretty girl. Whatcha’ thinkin’ about?”
The side of her dainty little mouth perked up. “I don’t think you want to know that.”
“Now I really want to know.”
Her hand stroked his inner thigh. “Well, I was thinking about showers.” She faced him bluntly. “And I don’t mean rain showers.”
“Girl, I like the sound of that. So tell me, what were we doing in the shower?”
“I didn’t get into it that deeply, but there’s something about showers that turns me out!” Her hand moved from his leg, to his groin, on to his stomach and caressed his chest. He was still so soft, baby flesh, like she remembered from years ago. “You still feel so good.”
“I think it’s that aftershave I advertise.”
“I have seen that commercial. Sexy, sexy as can be.”
“So, finish that shower thing you went off on.”
“I was just wondering how it would be making love to you in your shower. I’m sure you have many.”
“I have four, and I plan to christen you in all of them.”
Her hand moved back to his erection, stroking it, making the linen pants material cause friction against it. She loved the way his muscles tensed, how hot the heat was emitting from those pants. Heat wasn’t exactly the only thing she wanted from those pants; she wanted fire, steam, white-hot lava and she wanted it dripping slowly and thickly down his shaft. She tugged at his zipper, then eyed him. “May I?”
“God! Yes.”
There was no one on the tree-laden street but them, so he pulled the Porsche to the side of the road. “Why wait for the shower when we can get wet right here?”
“Ummm, I like how you talk, Mr. Marc Brown, king of the Sox bullpen.”
“I want to be your king, your every-damn-thing, pretty girl!”
With his hand covering hers, they slid his zipper down. Before the zipper was at half-mast, his tight, seething erection was trying to bust apart all that was in its way. To tease Marc into exquisite hardness, her wet tongue darted at the clothed tip, against the roughness of the Hanes briefs. Marc was ready to go into spasms just from the friction of underwear and her mouth. The feast d’ resistance came when she totally took the covered shaft into her mouth, sucking the damp material, making it cling against his rod.
Watching Caroline dine on him made his breathing quicken, his stomach heaved in and out. Her other hand raised his shirt, stroked soft thick flesh and muscles—taming his breathing. His words worked on her as she worked on him. “Damn, this is so fucking good, Caroline. Don’t stop…don’t stop.” He reached down and delivered his shaft from the wet material while reclining the bucket seat.
Exposed to her hungry eyes was a shaft so beautiful and cinnamon brown that she almost came. Her fingers glided up and down the thick, rigid erection as it continued to pulsate. The sight of it took her breath away. It’d been so long since her beloved Marc was in her arms; just knowing she’d never mix with him again, never feel any real love from him. But as she stroked his molten flesh, she knew it was real, Marc was real, and her dreams were about to come true once more.
He beckoned her. “Take it, darling.”
More than just words, it was action. Caroline’s tiny mouth started at his tip, feasting on it, tenderizing it before she dove in for the rest. Marc stroked it up and down for her satisfaction, and his, as her mouth sank deeper and deeper onto it. His thick veins tickled her inner cheeks and throat and she smiled over that fact that he was still way different from what she remembered in dad’s medical book. He was an awakening, then and now.
Marc’s hips pumped to her rhythm, forcing the shaft deep within her mouth. She was taking it, taking it all but found her comfort zone at the plump, rounded tip. She sipped him, as though he were a fine wine and watched as he erupted from her hand action. He slumped in the seat, staring at his glorious princess. “You are so incredible, Caroline. How’d you learn to do that?”
“I had a good teacher—you. You made me want to be good at it.”
“But we only did it once.”
“Good teachers need only teach a lesson once.”
He kissed her in a long, sucking motion, getting his fill of her before pulling away. “Sit on me. Let me feel what it’s like again to be with you. You were so good.”
“I was a virgin.”
“That meant you were a natural. Come on, sit on me.”
Elegant. Decadent
And very, very sexy.
That’s THREE by
Noelle Mack.
Available now from Kensington…
The maid lugged the bucket through the bedchamber into a connecting alcove, where a gleaming tub stood on lion’s paws of bronze. There she lifted the bucket high and poured in the hot water all in one go, a crystalline stream that splashed into the cold water already in the bathtub, sparkling in the candlelight. Steam rose from the tub in delicate wisps.
“Shall I undress you, my lady?” Sukey inquired, looking at L
ady Fiona as if she knew perfectly well that someone already had, at least half way. The rumpled state of her mistress’s black velvet gown—the disheveled bed, which looked very much as if someone had been clawing at the covers while in the throes of bliss—gave the evening’s delights away.
“No. Just go.”
Sukey nodded and took her leave, swinging the empty bucket by her side and closing the door quietly enough behind her. Fiona heard the maid’s footsteps echo down the hall and return, then patter down the stairs. Evidently the easily aroused Summers had decamped. Fiona had no doubt that Sukey hoped to finish what she’d started.
If she didn’t waylay Summers, the maid would have to find another man to tease. It was a miracle that Sukey got any work done at all.
Fiona undid the ties of her bodice and let the black velvet gown fall into a heap on the floor, stepping out of it. Since Thomas had already done away with her drawers, she was quite naked, not having bothered with stays.
She pushed the dress aside with one foot and walked to the alcove, enjoying the feel of the cool night air on her skin, wearing nothing but the triple strand of pearls. The rim of the bathtub was wide, warmed by the water within, and there she perched, swishing a hand to and fro through the water, anticipating the delicious sensation of a good long soak.
She touched a hand to her tender nether lips, still slick from Thomas’s double shots of spunk, wondering if it might be a better idea to wash there first, separately, and deciding that it would.
There was an ewer and a matching basin of Meissen porcelain upon an ebony table in the alcove. Fiona rose, picking up the ewer and dipping it into the tub. She poured the water into the basin and added a soft cloth, wringing it out to just the right juiciness before rubbing it luxuriously between her legs, cleaning herself as thoroughly as a cat.
Stimulating her already stimulated flesh in this fashion aroused her once more. She dropped the washcloth back into the basin and stood before the mirror, legs apart, admiring her proud breasts and curving hips for a few seconds. Then Fiona took her pleasure bud between forefinger and thumb and stroked it, gently pinching it with womanly delicacy, watching herself do it with increasing intensity and speed until she felt soft thrills pulse through her body. She closed her eyes, throwing her head back and letting the deeply sensual feeling overtake her.