“Shall we go and find that Meursault?”
Mark gave her a wicked grin and turned on the light. “I might have put it on the top shelf this time.”
“Then you’ll have to give me a hand.” She took the first few steps down into the cellar.
“That was the idea.”
Katy stopped and looked back over her shoulder. “How did you know I would come back?”
“I trusted my heart.”
“And I trust mine.” She felt the undeniable truth of her feelings deep in her soul.
Mark pulled the door closed and they made their way down the stairs. When they reached the wine cellar, he turned Katy to face him and then cradled her face between his hands. “I imagined this.”
Katy laughed softly. “I remember. We lived out this particular fantasy of yours in my bedroom.”
A smile curved his lips. “No. This.” He leaned down and slanted his mouth over hers, kissing her with a passion that left her breathless.
“Loving you.”
About the Author
Award winning author, Sarah Castille, pens steamy contemporary romance and erotic romantic suspense. She has been an established lawyer both on the West Coast and at one of the world’s largest law firms in London, England. Her thrilling sensual tales feature red-hot alpha males, kick-ass heroines, dark desires and dangerous passions…all with a legal flavor.
After many years of working and travelling abroad, Sarah traded in her briefcase and stilettos for a handful of magic beans and a home in the shadow of Canada’s Rocky Mountains. When she is not glued to her keyboard or e-reader, she can be found playing piano, shuttling munchkins and burning dinners.
Sarah is a firm believer in justice, caffeine and the seductive power of a sexy…smile.
Look for these titles by Sarah Castille
Coming Soon:
Undercover Brief
The more she wanted out, the more they dragged her back in.
With A Vengeance
© 2013 Jacqui Jacoby
Daughter to murdered CIA officers, niece to a deputy director, Jaime Walsh has never known life outside the world of espionage. Until a high-action case in Buenos Aires leaves her gutted. Physically, emotionally…and professionally.
She’d planned for her long-overdue vacation to be a time to rest and reassess. With her longtime partner Stephen not far behind, it’s a tropical paradise away from work. A paradise where boundaries will be tested.
From their training days, Stephen Reid has watched Jaime kick ass while performing what has become his second job—watching her back. But now his feelings have grown.
As best friends look at each other in a new light, they like what they see. And Jaime dreams of a new life outside “the company”.
Except someone from their past won’t be satisfied until Jaime and the man she loves are hunted to the brink of death. Now Jaime must find the strength to trust her heart and let go of her fear. Before she loses everything…
Warning: This book contains world travel with stops in exotic locations, a kick-ass heroine who just wants to be left alone and a sexy hero who can’t seem to stop himself from watching her back.
Enjoy the following excerpt for With A Vengeance:
Jaime, Collin and Stephen splashed through the drainage pipe, heading into the belly of the city, long since immune to the stench around them. The pipe narrowed two more feet, forcing them to hunch over. In the dark, they felt their way along the wall, knowing sooner or later they were going to find a manhole or drain from the street or something big enough to let them crawl out of this hellhole.
“Hawaii,” Jaime said, breaking a long silence.
“What about it?” Stephen asked, directly behind her. He kept one hand in hers, the other on the wall.
“I think I’m going to go to Hawaii.”
Collin chuckled from in front of her. Always the heroes, they had stuck her in the middle. Again. “When is that taking place?”
“As soon as I get out of here. I need a vacation.”
Now Stephen laughed. “You wouldn’t know how.”
She stopped to stretch. The roof was too low for her to stand, so she leaned over, stretching her back and arms. “I might surprise you.”
Here in Argentina their job had been simple. To ascertain the production of uranium was used for nuclear reactors and not nuclear weapons. So far, the job had been a piece of cake. Posing as American representatives of the civilian company, Agency of Nuclear Technology, they had easily obtained access to the Ezeiza Processing Plant and the Pilcaniyeu Enrichment Plant.
Rico Chavez, an employee of Ezeiza, had been born in Argentina and educated at MIT. Already suspicious of his superiors’ motives when Jaime had approached him with an offer of cash in exchange for a look into the Ezeiza records, he had readily agreed.
The records indicated nothing improper was happening at the plant, and the crew had been about to call it quits and head home.
Except now Rico Chavez had been hit and Jaime had been seen in the room.
God, I’m tired. Jaime couldn’t even remember the last time she had taken a holiday.
Keeping to the left, they traveled through the maze.
The tunnels led to a ladder. A manhole. The street above. Two cars were parked directly beside them, blocking their ascent to the real world from anyone who might happen by. The rain fell, but it had lost its wrath.
When they crawled onto the street, they didn’t have a clue how far they were from where they entered the drains.
Collin replaced the cover and put his arm over Jaime’s shoulder. They walked off, Stephen two steps behind. The buildings they walked by advertised rooms for rent by the hour.
Collin detoured into a late-night market while Jaime and Stephen leaned against the outside wall.
Collin was back within three minutes, stuffing a small package into his jacket pocket.
They kept moving.
Walking past a dilapidated building whose neon window sign proclaimed the establishment simply as “Hotel”, they exchanged looks, walked over the threshold and got themselves a room.
The clerk’s eyebrows arched when he looked up from his newspaper. His chapped lips spread into a crooked smile over his short, dirty beard when they requested one room for the three of them.
“Si.” He leered. “Si, si.”
If they hadn’t been so tired, if they had cared one iota what this moron thought, they might have defended themselves. But they were and they didn’t, so they let him think his perverted thoughts, grabbed their key and took the stairs to the second floor.
The carpet had been red at one point. Torn and discolored, it fit perfectly with the spotted walls that screamed for paint.
Room 2A. Top of the stairs and to the right.
Stephen entered first, turning on the lights.
Collin shut the door behind them, snapping the lock.
“Bathroom. Now,” Stephen ordered Jaime.
She grunted as Collin pulled out the brown paper bag and tossed it to Stephen. Stephen caught it overhand.
Jaime sat down on the edge of the stained tub, her hands on her knees as she waited for the torture.
The three-by-five bathroom reeked of things living where they shouldn’t be living. Stephen sat on closed toilet seat and used the back as a table. Opening the bag, he pulled out the peroxide, aspirin, gauze and first-aid tape. Stretching his leg out, he reached into his jeans pocket and got out his Swiss Army knife.
She saw him in the mirror on the back of the door as he worked, the concentration etched on his chiseled features, his blue eyes watching his own fingers move.
“This could really use some stitches,” Stephen said.
“And?” she said, wincing when he dabbed at the wound with a cloth soaked in peroxide.
She could see her blood on his fingers and on his watch. A droplet was even running down the back of his hand, but he ignored it.
“FYI,” he said, tossing the cloth into the sink.
“You scared me,” he added, looking her straight in the eye before cutting a couple of butterfly bandages.
“You should learn to drive better.”
He smiled. Jaime always loved his smile. It made even the worst times seem okay.
Like now.
“You do need to get another hobby besides babysitting me, you know,” she told him. He smiled again, only this time there was a mischievous edge to it and she knew she would pay.
She did.
He pushed harder on the cut, making her yelp.
“Bastard,” she said.
“Whiner,” he shot back.
Collin appeared in the doorway. “There’s no phone so we can’t check in,” he said.
Jaime winced as Stephen pulled the edges of the cut together with the tape.
“We’ll sleep here and call first thing in the morning,” Stephen said.
“There’s only two double beds,” Collin said. He reached in his pocket and pulled out a coin, positioning it on his bent thumb. “Head’s gets the single. Tail’s gets her.”
They’ve got the sex factor in spades. But can love survive the “ex” factor?
Knowing the Ropes
© 2013 Teresa Noelle Roberts
Selene has harbored kinky, submissive fantasies most of her life, but her experience as a domestic abuse counselor leaves her leery of giving up that much control. Case in point: the ex-fiancé she didn’t love quite enough to test the limits of trust.
At a BDSM meet-and-greet, she sets out to learn how far is too far. Nick seems like the ideal dom to show her the ins and outs of ropes, floggers, and paddles—with no commitment clause.
After losing a sub he loved too much, Selene’s country girl common sense and smoking sensuality is like a dream that Nick never dared to have—a perfect blend of kink and long-term domestic bliss.
Yet it’s tough to figure out just how far they can push their limits when they’ve both agreed to a no-strings affair. Especially when an ex needs Nick’s muscle and Selene’s counseling skills to get out of a dangerous situation. By then it may be too late for love to survive all the things they’re afraid to say.
Warning: Sexy, kinky, geeky dominant guy. Smart submissive woman. Crazy ex. A little experimentation between girlfriends. And lots and lots of kinky sex.
Enjoy the following excerpt for Knowing the Ropes:
Selene found herself with Nick, drifting toward an early dinner somewhere. He had a place in mind but hadn’t actually told her where, and she found she liked the feeling that she’d put herself into his hands in this small way.
The more she talked with Nick, the more his cool blue gaze and warm smile distracted her, and the more she felt his body language sync up with hers. No, not exactly in sync but one step ahead, anticipating her next movement and influencing it, as if starting to mold her already. She watched his big hands, imagining them alternately caressing and slapping her breasts, her thighs, her ass.
She looked down at his feet when she imagined her fevered thoughts were too obvious in her eyes, then imagined herself kneeling there, naked, trembling, wet.
Actually, she didn’t need to imagine the wet and trembling part. Her panties already felt suspiciously damp and her knees were shaky.
They walked more or less in silence. Between traffic noise, noise from the perennial construction along Atlantic Avenue and the melting heat, talking seemed far too much like work. Even the breeze off Boston Harbor was sticky.
By the time they crossed a bridge over Fort Point Channel, she was wishing she’d worn flats, even if they wouldn’t have looked right with the outfit. She prayed that the restaurant would be an informal place where she could slip her shoes off under the table.
Once she saw the restaurant, her feet breathed a sigh of relief.
The Barking Crab was a tribute to the beachside clam shack. Rough picnic tables covered with butcher paper—they even provided crayons for doodling. A mix of fried and steamed seafood, with a few more sophisticated but still basic selections. And outdoor seating on the harbor, so she could kick off the damn heels and relax. “It’s a tourist trap,” Nick said, “but it’s fun.”
Soon they were drinking cold beers—he’d recommended the fascinatingly named Smuttynose, from a brewery in New Hampshire—and awaiting plates of fried scallops, fried calamari and steamed mussels. Selene hadn’t eaten a great deal that day and the frosty, hoppy beer was making her feel pleasantly euphoric.
Or maybe that was Nick.
She stretched out her bare foot, brushed it against his calf. Hard muscle under soft denim. Nice.
Yeah, Nick might just have something to do with the euphoria.
He took the hand that wasn’t holding her beer.
No, he didn’t exactly take her hand. He covered her hand with his and closed his fingers around her wrist. Then he looked into her eyes.
A slow, sensual smile opened on his face as he said, “That’s better. Isn’t it?”
It wasn’t really a question, but he was giving her an out if she wanted it.
She didn’t. That firm grip on her wrist hinted at so many things she’d dreamed of. “Oh yes,” she breathed. “Better.” She dropped her voice a notch. “And wetter.”
It may have been purely coincidence that the woman sitting behind her giggled at that second, but Selene was sure she’d overhead.
Heat flared in Selene’s cheeks and, to her surprise, between her legs. She squirmed in her seat, less from actual embarrassment than to enjoy the pressure the movement put on her swollen lips.
Under the cover of the first round of food arriving, Nick leaned forward. “So, you enjoy a little bit of public embarrassment? I’ll file that away for later.”
“You’re so confident that there’ll be a later?”
“What do you think?” He ran one fingernail down the tender inside of her forearm.
His nails weren’t sharp, but she still shivered.
“What about the common-sense test?” she asked. Her voice sounded a little desperate to her own ears, grasping at verbal straws. “Don’t I fail it retroactively if I go home with you tonight?”
“If you come home with me and let me lock you in a cage, then yes. But to do that, I’d need a cage, and where will I find one in downtown Boston on a Saturday night?” He laughed. “I’m regretting that test. It’s making us both think we have to be sensible, and right now I’d rather be impulsive.”
“Would it help if I said I wasn’t thinking of much of anything except you?” Had that really come out of her mouth? “Okay, you and food. I’m starving.” She grabbed a ring of fried calamari and popped it into her mouth, hoping the squid would keep her from saying anything too stupid. Calamari had the texture of bubble gum, in her experience, and it was rude to talk with your mouth full.
Damn it if this place didn’t manage to make calamari tender. Delicious too, with a nice, crunchy coating and a bit of spice.
Much tastier than what she’d been expecting but not nearly as effective for keeping her safely quiet.
“Try it with a bit of the banana pepper,” Nick suggested, picking up a calamari ring and a piece of yellow-green pepper. She thought for a second he was demonstrating the proper technique.
He wasn’t.
He reached across the table and held the food before her lips. “Try it,” he urged.
Her mouth opened of its own accord.
He brushed his finger across the pout of her lower lip, making her shiver.
She opened her mouth slowly, took a tentative nibble to test the pepper’s heat, then parted her lips wider and engulfed the food and Nick’s fingers.
Unfortunately, there was only so much room around the morsel for tongue and fingers to work their wiles upon each other. She did her best, though, sucking and nibbling on his fingers while he moved them against her tongue, tantalizing something besides her taste buds, which were already busily dealing with piquant pepper and warm, spiced calamari. She found she was leaning forward to take him, wantin
g to feel more, liking the sensation that he was filling her mouth.
She wanted him filling her mouth with his cock, wanted him to move in her mouth as he was now—no, harder, more forcefully, claiming that piece of her as his.
She arched her throat, tried to convey the fantasy through what she did to his fingers, and discovered that the calamari and pepper were interfering.
She coughed.
It didn’t stop the lovely, depraved images running through her head. Frankly, it fit with them, because the blowjob she was imagining was the kind where you might find yourself almost choking on cock but not wanting to stop. The kind where you’d actually revel in the bit of discomfort because your lover was getting off so much on thrusting hard into your throat.
On the other hand, cock couldn’t actually end up in your windpipe, but a stray piece of food could, and nothing spoiled a flirtation like a Heimlich maneuver and a visit to the ER.
Regretfully, she pulled away and actually applied herself to chewing and swallowing.
The pepper-and-squid combination was delicious, all right, but not as delicious as his fingers.
She thought of his cock deep in her throat, imagined how he might taste as he poured into her, felt herself flushing.
She forced herself to giggle. “Something more delicate might have worked better,” she said, making her voice stay even. “Maybe a taste of one of the dipping sauces next time.”
Something about the way Nick smiled in response let her know that he knew exactly what she’d been thinking, because he’d been thinking it too. Not just oral sex, because that was what you always thought about when you teased someone like that, but a very specific kind of oral sex, the kind that was claiming, almost brutal. “I don’t know. Are delicate morsels what you prefer?”
“Delicacy has its place. But so does less delicate, and that was perfect. Just considering other possibilities that might be…perfect in different ways.”
“Oh,” he said, smiling luxuriously, “we have time to try all sorts of morsels. This is just the appetizer.”
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