by Vivi Andrews
When she could speak again, she panted his name and he looked up. “Inside me,” she managed to gasp. “Need you.”
Jake beat the speed record for stripping out of a pair of jeans and was back against her in a heartbeat. He fit against her and pushed inside slowly, stretching her with the almost pain that was so intensely pleasurable. Lucy moaned and her eyes fell closed, but Jake growled, “Look at me,” in a voice that sounded barely human, and her eyes flew open to lock with his.
The intensity in his eyes coupled with the intense pressure of his body invading hers was overwhelming. Lucy trembled, afraid she was going to burn up and disappear, but Jake wouldn’t let her. His eyes held hers, his focus pulling her along with him, making her match him stroke for stroke, moan for moan. They locked together, closer, tighter, unbearably, impossibly linked, until they exploded together, transcending every experience that came before, breaking them apart and fusing them together. One heart, one body, one spirit.
Lucy sighed, utterly replete.
Then sighed again, resigned. “I’d better go talk the ghost out of the closet.”
Jake grunted. Lucy figured that was the extent of his verbal ability at the moment. She patted his shoulder affectionately. He had a right to be exhausted; he’d moved mountains, erected pyramids, and rebuilt the world as far as she was concerned.
Jake rolled off her and flopped bonelessly onto his back. Lucy slipped off the bed and went in search of clothes that weren’t in the closet, enjoying the feel of his eyes on her back as she puttered around the room. She finally settled on his shirt, wallowing in the scent of him that enveloped her as she pulled it over her head.
“Is this going to be a common problem?” he asked from his lazy sprawl in the center of her bed, nodding toward the closet where the ghost could be heard whimpering to himself.
“Karma said my client list would change, but I’m always going to get visits from ghosts,” Lucy answered hesitantly.
“And they’re always going to pop in on us uninvited, whenever the hell they please?”
Lucy squirmed, terrified that he was going to announce that she wasn’t worth the trouble, grab his clothes and walk out of her life forever. “Probably,” she admitted reluctantly.
Jake frowned and then dropped his head back to the pillow and sighed heavily. “I guess I can put up with a few ghosts.” He shot her a devastating grin. “As long as I get you.”
Lucy beamed at him and padded over to the bed. The ghost in the closet could wait. Her own private gigolo came first.
About the Author
To learn more about Vivi Andrews, please visit www.viviandrews.com. You can send an email to [email protected] or visit her blog at viviandrews.blogspot.com.
Look for these titles by Vivi Andrews
Tickle My Fantasy Anthology
Carolina Wolf by Sela Carsen
Witches Anonymous by Misty Evans
ParaMatch.com by MK Mancos
All it takes is a spark of Grrrrrl power to set the swamp on fire!
Carolina Wolf
Ó2009 Sela Carsen
A Tickle My Fantasy story.
Librarian Debra Henry is boring. And she’s okay with that. Really. It’s not as if the teensy amount of witchcraft that flows in her veins is worth getting excited about. Yet someone—or something—thinks it’s worth crawling out of the swamps to attack her. Those somethings are werewolves.
When one of them is hurt saving her, the least she can do is take him home and patch him up. Healing him stirs more than her senses. Maddox Moreau awakens the magic that sleeps in her blood. And suddenly, life’s not quite so boring.
A wildlife manager at Congaree National Park by day, Maddox likes being the BWIS—Big Wolf In the Swamp. By night, he lets his wild side out to play lone wolf. At least until he meets the one woman who can share his soul. Perhaps it’s best, though, if he holds off on sharing his preference for raw meat.
Rescuing her seals his fate—but only if he can protect her from a rogue of his kind. A werewolf with a nasty stalker streak…
Warning: This story contains hunky werewolves, librarian fetishes, Southern humor, smart-ass women and men who think that’s sexy, magic, medieval legends, disco music and flatulent Boxers. (The dogs, not the underwear.)
Enjoy the following excerpt from Carolina Wolf:
Maddox hid a shudder of lust as he watched her eat. The woman was sex on a stick and she had no idea how she affected him.
Too bad she didn’t trust him.
An acrid tinge of deception colored the air sometimes when they spoke. Mostly when they spoke about magic. Debra had power, but he couldn’t quite figure out what kind. Tonight, he needed answers almost as much as he needed her in his arms.
She finished her last bite, her last sip of wine, and delicately dabbed her mouth with a napkin. Close enough. He took her hand and helped her slide off the stool.
“Before we get to the part where you have to lie to me about what you are and what you’re protecting, I need to kiss you.”
Her eyes widened and she tried to pull away, but he wrapped his arms around her. “I’ve been dying to do this all day long, Debra. I can’t wait anymore.”
Every dominant instinct he possessed, both as a wolf and as a man, surged forward and he bent her over his arm, his hand cradling the back of her head as he kissed her. Devoured her. Consumed her.
Her lips melted under his, the tang of the dry red wine lingering in her mouth. Maddox dipped his tongue inside to savor more and tasted the overwhelming flavor of passion. Debra came alive in his arms. Not content to be swept under him, she fought his lead, vying for control, and he relished the battle.
She hooked one leg around him. Her skirt was long and slim, preventing her from moving higher, so he slid his hand down and yanked up the fabric, bunching it around her hips so he could grab her thigh and pull her in tighter to his body.
Thigh-highs. She was wearing thigh-high stockings. With garters. His knees went weak. His erection turned into a painful throb and he groaned, pulling away from her mouth to nuzzle her neck.
“You’re killing me, pretty little Debra Henry.”
“Likewise, Mr. Moreau.” Her soft, sweet drawl ripped his heart right out of his chest, but her scent changed from the spice of lust to sharp regret. She hugged him, tucking her face into his shoulder. “I’m so sorry.” Her arms sagged and the weight of her remorse pulled at him like a millstone.
He slid her thigh back down his leg and adjusted her skirt. “Please tell me what it is. I can’t help you if you don’t tell me.”
“I can’t. I’m so sorry, but I just can’t. Telling you may put us in even more danger than we’re in now. It’s…complicated.”
“You’re a witch. I know. I smell magic on you, Debra. Sweet and sparkling. It’s like champagne. I know you’re protecting something and I figure it’s got to be pretty big if you’re not telling me, am I right?”
The hitch in her breath and the way she caught her lower lip in her teeth gave him the answer he’d already guessed.
“There are rules that have to be followed. It’s not my secret to tell.”
“I understand that, but we’ll have to deal with it sooner or later.” He nuzzled her cheek. “Maybe later.”
Despite the lie that stood between them, he knew her down in his bones. It was bad enough when he’d only wanted her, when his plan was to woo her gently, but in the face of the danger and the power that surrounded them, they were well past a slow courtship. Something bigger than both of them was moving them together and he didn’t want to fight it.
“I have this fantasy,” he said, letting his hand wander down over her hips.
“Do we have time for fantasies?” Her eyes glazed, her lips parted, and she reached up to kiss him again. He licked at her mouth.
“We’ll make time. This one should be easy for you. You’re perfect for it, in fact.” Her glasses had slid down to their customary spot and she looked at him over the rims. While g
etting her naked and spread was high on his priority list, Maddox still wanted to give her something she needed—a loving that was fun and lighthearted.
He spun her out on the tips of his fingers. “You’re the sexiest librarian I’ve ever seen. Sharp haircut, hot glasses. Pretty blouse.” He trailed a finger down the modest V-neck. “Tight skirt.” His other hand palmed her ass. “Your shoes are a little on the sensible side. Got any hooker heels?”
She chuckled, a husky sound that fired his blood. “You have a librarian fantasy?”
“Only if you’re the librarian.” He reached into her open tote bag and pulled out a paperback. A romance novel, its cover a subtle, sensual twining of male and female limbs. He tossed it onto the floor behind her. Her head cocked in confusion.
“Oh, Miss Librarian. I dropped a book. Would you please bend over and pick it up for me?”
Debra eyed the book, then her lips quirked up in a sexy smile. Her hips rolled as she turned her back on him. Oh yeah. She was getting into it now. Rather than just leaning down for it, however, she bent at the knees and, spine straight, elegantly lowered herself to reach the book. Not quite what he had in mind, but he’d work with it.
Then she nailed him. Smooth and slow, her legs straightened. Her arm still touching the floor, her ass rose in front of him like a mirage out of the desert. Teasing. Taunting. Right about the time she began to lift her body, he stepped behind her, hugging her hips into his, savoring the slide of heat on heat. His cock was cushioned against those luscious cheeks as she stood fully into his hold, reaching back with her arm to pull his head down to hers.
His hands shook when he took the book from her and tossed it onto the couch. His arms wrapped around her waist as he nuzzled her neck.
“Why, sir, didn’t you want that book?”
“I don’t need to read love scenes, babe. Let’s go write one.”
Can a bad witch go good in thirteen steps? Not if Lucifer has his way with her!
Witches Anonymous
Ó2009 Misty Evans
A Tickle My Fantasy story.
Amy Atwood is a witch. Not the harm-none kind…the Satan-worshipping, devil-made-me-do-it kind. But after catching Lucifer in a particularly wicked hex act with her goodie-two-shoes Wiccan sister, Amy does what every self-respecting witch would do. She pops a Dove chocolate in her mouth, ends her affair with the devil, and swears an oath never to use magic again.
She wants to be normal. Human. Even if it means no more fun—and she’s looking for a nice, normal guy to complement her new lifestyle. And ice-cream-loving firefighter Adam Foster looks like perfect hero material.
Lucifer, however, isn’t about to be nice about letting her go. Stalked by Satan, manipulated by the angel Gabriel—and surprised by Adam’s true identity—Amy finds herself up to her black hat in trouble of Biblical proportions…
Warning: Welcome to temptation. Sexy Lucifer is going to enchant you. The original Adam is going to charm you. And the angel Gabriel is going to scare your socks off!
Enjoy the following excerpt from Witches Anonymous:
I woke from dreaming about Adam in his fire suit to the feel of a hot body next to mine. A body too big to be one of my cats, and much too hard. And then there was the hand cupping my breast through my Snoopy sleep shirt.
Frantically, I tried to clear the cobwebs out of my brain and get my bearings. Had Adam accepted my offer last night? Had we enjoyed more than a scoop of ice cream?
An image of him waving goodbye to me from his truck surfaced, and with it, a chill spread down my spine. With sudden clarity I knew who was sleeping in my bed. I jerked away from Lucifer, tumbling to the floor in my haste.
I have only one vice in life—lust. I lust for sinful men, dark chocolate and designer shoes. For ten years, Lucifer satisfied all my desires and then satisfied them some more.
The embodiment of lust, he made me choose bad over good, dark over light, hell over heaven. I simply couldn’t resist his wicked ways. Until he slept with Emilia, that is. Just thinking about him touching her, kissing her, the same way he’d touched and kissed me made me shake with disgust. Betrayal was one thing. Betrayal with my sister…well, that was more hell than I bargained for.
He rose up and peered at me over the side of the bed, his hair mussed and his eyes full of enchanting lust. “Good morning, Amy. Dream of me?”
Since I no longer had protection spells keeping my apartment off limits to demons and other magical creatures, it was no surprise Luc had wandered in.
“What the hell are you doing?” I shouted at him, even though I knew exactly what the hell he was doing. He’d been seducing me for years. I was familiar with his guerilla sex tactics.
He ran a hand through his shoulder-length, blue-black hair, mussing it into an even sexier look. “Thought you might be lonely since your boyfriend left you high and dry.”
“He did not…” I broke off, knowing it was useless to explain anything to him. Pushing myself off the floor, I grabbed my robe and shoved my arms into the sleeves, pulling the belt tight. “Get out.”
Luc threw the covers back and walked buck naked across the floor toward me. “I made your favorite breakfast.”
On cue, the tantalizing smell of French toast wafted by me. Breakfast. Adam was picking me up for breakfast.
I glanced at the clock. The blue numbers read seven-forty. Crap. I had twenty minutes to shower, make up my face and do my hair, not to mention kick a naked man out of my apartment. A naked, supernatural demon-man.
Who was not so surprisingly well endowed.
Taking a deep breath, I racked my brain for a non-supernatural way to take care of him and me. “I’m getting in the shower. When I get out, in like two minutes, you’d better be gone. Understand?”
He scratched the stubble on his chin. His eyes glowed with lust. “I could scrub your back. Massage your scalp while I wash it with that new herbal shampoo you just bought.”
How did he know about my new shampoo? Obviously he’d been snooping while I wasn’t home. “You have to leave. Now.”
“How about a pedicure? Or a bubble bath instead of a shower? Remember the bubbles I produced for you last time?” He advanced on me with each suggestion and I shook my head as I stepped backwards. The heat pouring off him made me want to shed my robe and the thought of those crazy, pheromone-laced bubbles made sweat trickle between my breasts.
Sticking my hand out to stop his advances, I hit his sculpted chest. Energy zigzagged through my fingers and up my arm. “Stop it.”
But he didn’t stop. He pried my hand off his chest and kissed the tips of my fingers. Panicking, I jerked my hand away and ran for the bathroom. Throwing the door shut and twisting the lock, I leaned against the solid wood door and prayed. Uh, God? Are you there? Your old arch enemy is at it again. I could some help here, your Godship. A little strength to resist the Devil?
“Amy,” Luc murmured to me through the door. “Come back to bed. Your breakfast is getting cold.”
I shook my head adamantly, even though he couldn’t see me. “No.”
The door warmed under my hands. “I brought your favorite boysenberry syrup.”
Oh, curses. Every cell in my body tingled. Boysenberry syrup and the Devil. What woman could resist such temptation? Come on, God. Cut me some slack here.
“There’s fresh whipped cream.” His sexy smooth voice singsonged through the door. “You know what I want to do with that.”
In the mirror over the sink I could see my flushed face. My robe had fallen open and my nipples were rock hard. Mercy, my brain screamed. Can you hear me, God? I’m crying, mercy.
She can match anyone. Except the man she can’t resist.
ParaMatch.com
Ó2009 MK Mancos
A Tickle My Fantasy story.
Dating in today’s world is tough enough. Pair it with a paranormalady, and Lucille Wainwright is living the recipe for loneliness. Born a talentless witch in a family of legendary spellcasters, she’s managed to c
arve a niche for herself with ParaMatch.com, a matchmaking service for paranormal beings.
What she lacks in the magic department, she more than makes up for with her uncanny ability to conjure committed relationships out of any combination of traits and backgrounds. Until now.
Enter Jager Cronus, deposed king of the Titans and successful paratrader. As a client, he’s a nightmare. As a man, he’s irresistible. When he demands a date with her to the annual Legion Halloween Dance, she’s hard pressed to refuse. With her professional ethics warring with a deep need to prove herself, she gives him two more chances to find love.
That’s all the opening Jager needs. After all, he didn’t survive his downfall without learning a few things about prevailing in the face of the stiffest negotiations.
Now he’s about to negotiate the deal of a lifetime—a future with Lucilla.
Warning: Contains inter-species romance, love potions, fallen Greek Gods, super-morphing wizards, and a male strip-tease.
Enjoy the following excerpt from ParaMatch.com:
She pulled slowly into her drive, looking in the rearview mirror at the car as the driver’s door opened. A tall, well-proportioned man stood. The light from the street lamp rendered his face half in shadow, but even from where Lucilla sat, she knew the identity of her mystery visitor.
Jager gazed over the top of his car and gave a hesitant wave.
Flutters like leaves stuck in a whirlwind flew around inside her stomach. She smoothed her hand over her abdomen in an attempt to calm the flying furies. What was it about Jager that made her body misbehave?
She motioned for him to come up to the house. It took him no time to get to her with his long strides.