He’s a rodeo I’d love to ride.
The martini was starting to get to me; even one and I was a little tipsy. They called people like me two beer queers where I came from, but I didn’t mind being a lightweight.
We walked through the marble lobby, got in the elevator, and attacked.
Seth pressed me up against the mirrored wall, pulling my leg onto his hip. He lightly bit from my collar bone to my chin while I slowly rubbed his growing erection. He growled into my neck, making my clit pulse with need.
“God, it’s been too long.” I huffed into his ear as he reached up my tank top and under my bra, tugging on my nipples just the way I loved it.
The elevator slowed, forcing us to pull away from each other until we were behind the closed door of his suite.
I went right to the bed, slipped off my boots, and stripped down to my bra and panties.
Seth groaned as he watched me slowly undress from the other side of the bed where he was already standing in his birthday suit, stroking his erect member leisurely. “Put your boots back on. Never leave them off, Jolene. Never.”
“Yes, sir.” I did as he asked then got on my knees on the bed, staring right at him. I slowly started to massage my breasts over the lace, playing with my nipples, watching how his dick pulsed in reaction.
“You like that?”
He nodded.
“And this?” I ran my middle finger under my panties, over my soaking clit, slowly biting my lower lip out of sheer pleasure. A low rumble came from the back of his throat.
“Fuck. You’re so damn hot. Come here.”
I got off the bed, went around to where he stood, and did what he wanted before he could speak the words.
I took his girthy nine inches into my mouth until it painfully stabbed the back of my throat.
His fingers curled into my hair, pulling my head back. “Look at me. The. Whole. Time.” He thrust into me and I gagged, never breaking eye contact.
His cock felt so good.
Hurt so bad.
I loved it.
He thrust harder and harder into my mouth until tears formed in the corners of my eyes. That’s what got Seth off the best: knowing it was painful. Right as his dick started to throb, he released my hair.
“Get on the bed. On your knees and put your hands behind your back.”
I faced away from him, hearing him open and close the nightstand drawer quickly. Handcuffs bound my wrists and clicked to the tightest setting they could.
“Painful?”
“Just enough.”
“Good.”
He pressed his chiseled chest against my back, letting his cock slide between my cheeks snuggly. “I want your ass, Joey. Can I have it?”
“You can have whatever you want.”
Quickly, he spun me around and shoved my head down next to his dick. “Get it nice and wet. We don’t want to go in dry, now do we?”
I spit and sucked until he was more than lubed enough to enter. I turned away from him again and quickly my face was on the bed, my ass high in the air and my black thong pulled down to right above my knees. His hands spread my cheeks and he spit on my backdoor. Slowly he put two fingers in.
I moaned and he pulled them out. “How was that?” His husky voice was coated in lustful desire.
“Fucking amazing,” I moaned into the comforter.
“How about this?” Forcefully, he thrust three fingers in and out of my opening, pushing in as deep as he could, stretching me, getting me ready.
I moaned and he spit again.
“More,” I cried.
Without warning pain and ecstasy shot through my body as he thrust his cock into my ass as hard as he could. Through sighs and growls he panted, “Did you bring them?”
I nodded as well as I could with my face smashed into the comforter. “My bag” was all I was able to mutter before a pleasurable scream escaped.
“Fuck. Your dick is amazing.” I sighed as he slowly pulled out.
Seth got off the bed and grabbed my purse to get the tiny pink vibrator out of its silk bag, along with a thick leather belt and a condom.
Still in the same position, Seth’s hand gently grazed over my bare ass. “You’ve been running.”
I nodded.
“Your ass is fucking gorgeous.” He nipped at my left cheek quickly with the belt, sending a slap into the air. I cried out. Pain was pleasure, such fucking amazing pleasure.
I could feel him start to unlock the cuffs. “Leave them,” I begged.
“As you wish.” His voice was gravelly with lust.
He rolled me onto my side, laying down behind me. He put the unwrapped condom in my hand and rested his hard cock on my fingers. I fumbled with the latex until it slid down his shaft. I lifted my leg and waited anxiously for his dick to finally fulfill my desire to have my pussy filled with his beautifully talented cock.
I heard the vibrator buzz to life and I moaned just from the sound.
“Tease,” I pouted.
“Beg.”
“Please, Seth. You know you’re driving me crazy. Fuck me the way I like it. Please.” I sounded like a fucking school girl on her prom night. I hated when he made me beg but I knew it got him harder and that was usually my main goal.
Slowly he started to rub the small bullet over my swollen bud. Gentle little circles swirled me into a frenzy that I could barely think straight through.
I stuttered, “Ple-please—Seth—fuck!”
Finally, his dick rested in between my slick folds, lightly putting pressure on my opening. I wanted his dick pressing onto my g-spot so badly, my entire body ached. Right as his cock started to fill me, my knees started shaking. He leaned back and grabbed my bound hands, thrusting harder and harder onto the perfect spot.
I cried out loudly as I felt my climax building in the pit of my stomach. “Fuck—Seth—I’m going to come.”
He pumped harder and faster while my pussy tightened around his length. His dick twitched with his own climax coming on fast. One hand’s fingers laced into my hair, pulling back hard as the other gripped around my neck perfectly.
God-fucking-damn-it.
I shook as a light layer of sweat coated my body. I could feel the pulsing of his dick pump harder as his release matched mine.
Slowly our bodies came out of our orgasms and our muscles relaxed. He released my wrists from the cuffs and kissed the top of my head sweetly.
“Fuck, Joey. That was…” His head hit the pillow as I threw my boots onto the floor on top of my crumbled clothes and pulled one of his white undershirts over my head.
“Yeah, amazing as usual.” I curled under the covers into his arms and drifted off into a post-sex coma.
Continue Reading Stupid Hearts
About the Author
Bestselling author, Kristen Hope Mazzola, is a Florida native that has found herself loving a North Carolina life. She writes contemporary romance ranging from steamy romantic comedy, sexy erotica, angsty new adult, all the way to sports romance – with dirty bikers, hot military men, and swoon-worthy rockstars in between. A portion of her royalties is donated to the Marcie Mazzola Foundation.
Stay Connected
www.KristenHopeMazzola.com
[email protected]
All books by Kristen Hope Mazzola
The Crashing Series:
Crashing: The Wedding
Crashing Back Down
Falling Back Together
The Unacceptables MC Standalone Series:
Unacceptable
Unspeakable
Unbreakable
Untouchable
Unbearable
Undeniable
Uncut
Unscarred
The Hysterics Standalone Series:
The Hysterics
Colt & Serena: A Hysterics Short Story
Shots On Goal Standalone Series:
Hat Trick
Cross Checked
Cherry Picked
Low Blow<
br />
Playoff Beard
Off Duty
Standalones:
Stupid Hearts
Rough & Tumble
Donut Be Easy
Boxsets:
The Crashing Series
Lust & Love
The Shots on Goal Series Box Set
The Unacceptables Series Box Set
The Huntress Series (co-written with Dawn Robertson):
The Huntress (Book 1)
The Hopeless (Book 2)
The Nameless (Book 3)
Charity Compilations:
30 Dirty Martinis
Word Search For Warriors: Authors For A Cause (Volume 1)
The 69 Series:
(multi-author collaborations for charity)
Hook & Ladder 69
Bleed Blue 69
Note From the Author
Thank you for reading Donut Be Easy. In doing so, you have helped fulfill a very important goal of mine. From every purchase of any of my books, I donate to the Marcie Mazzola Foundation. The mission of the foundation is to "help better the lives of abused and at-risk children, and to build community awareness regarding the needs of children."
The Marcie Mazzola Foundation was established in 2003 by my family. On July 6, 2002, Marcie died tragically in an automobile accident. Although she was only 21 at the time of her death, Marcie had experienced many things and touched many lives. She was a beautiful young woman whose inner beauty surpassed even her physical beauty because of her compassionate nature and treatment of others.
At the time of her death, Marcie was involved in a civil lawsuit against a school bus driver who had sexually abused her when she was 11 years old. Prior to her death, it had been expected that the case would be won, but since Marcie could no longer testify, it was going to be next to impossible to win. Marcie’s attorney met with her family to determine if the suit should be continued. He advised the family that Marcie had confided in him her intention to donate her entire award to help sexually and physically abused children if she won the case. Once this was known, the family had no doubt that the suit had to continue.
The attorney’s strong commitment to Marcie prompted him to proceed with the case, and against all odds, it was won. Marcie’s estate was awarded a monetary settlement. With her attorney’s guidance and continued support, the family established a foundation as a tribute to Marcie’s life, which would continue her legacy to help children.
To learn more about The Marcie Mazzola Foundation, please visit:
http://www.marciemazzolafoundation.org
Marcie Mazzola Foundation
158 Burr Road,
Commack, NY 11725
phone: 631-858-1855 • fax: 631-462-8544 email: [email protected]
Acknowledgments
First off, thank you to all of the crazy assholes of online dating. You all have helped formulate a pretty hilarious story one awful pickup line at a time.
To Kelly: Thank you for letting me use your name. You really are a knockout and I am so thankful to have you as my friend. Love you, girl.
To Mayra: You came up with his amazing, delicious concept and I am honored to be apart of this epic Donut Day celebration! You are an amazing friend and person.
To Lauren: For helping me struggle along in this awful dating world. At least we will always have each other.
To Teresa: I love our “working” lunches and book talks over beer and whiskey! I am so thankful that we live close to each other and that you actually get me. You’re priceless.
To Mikey: Thank you for assaulting over a dozen donuts to make this cover happen. You’re a true friend and one kick-ass cover model.
To Heather: Thank you for being such an amazing supporter of mine and for buying the two dozen donuts that made for one hell of a hilarious shoot. You’re a rockstar.
To Adam: You have really become an amazing photographer. The bloopers from the shoot for this cover will forever be cherished.
Donut Tease Me
Sneak Peek
By Kristen Luciani
Chapter 1
Stephanie
“And the winner of the debut season of Song Slam…the rising star who is going to be awarded a one-million dollar recording contract with Starr Records is…Bobby Moone!”
I clap a hand over my mouth to stifle the sob threatening to escape. But my efforts are no match for the strength of the despair I’ve kept bottled up for the past eight weeks. Tears flow in torrents, streaking the eye makeup I didn’t have time to remove before flipping on the television just in time to watch my entire universe vaporize. AC/DC blares from my iPhone seconds after his name is announced, and I decline the call from my sister Kelly, finally allowing the devastating reality to fully consume me, just as I suspected it would months ago.
Because my best friend Bobby is just that talented, and it was only a matter of time before the rest of the world figured it out.
I did the right thing when he told me about the audition. I pretended to be excited for him. Hell, I’ve never faked an orgasm that hard before. But that’s what you’re supposed to do when you love someone, right? Show them support and encourage them to take advantage of opportunities they would never have considered because they’re comfortable singing covers in dingy and sticky dive bars for the same crowd of drunks and groupies every weekend.
My shoulders quake as the grief takes hold. I was front and center for all of those shows, cheering on the love of my life and his grungy, greasy band members, who prioritized booze and weed leaps and bounds over personal hygiene. But despite the distaste I had for his musical friends, I always showed up.
I always left alone, too.
Those stupid bitches, decked out in their cropped tops, insanely high heels, and skirts so short the hems grazed their ass cheeks always turned his head. He always chose one of them over me.
Not that he knew I was an option, but still! He didn’t have to morph into the stereotypical lead singer, banging girls two at a time. But aside from my inner turmoil, it was a great life for Bobby. He was idolized, pursued, and paid for his passions. No risk…well, except for STDs, but I’m sure he’s had enough sense to cover the microphone if you know what I mean.
I figured he’d eventually grow up and choose a real career for himself. I had faith he’d actually mature and start planning a future, one which would have me in it. Of course, that required certain scenarios to unfold…things that would really get the ball rolling. The groupies would need to find fresh meat to pounce, his druggie bandmates would need to get arrested for possession leaving the group to fall apart…was it really too much to hope for?
The guitar solo intro to Back in Black screams out of my iPhone speaker once again, and I swipe at my eyes and sniff long and hard before clicking Accept.
I can’t even speak at this point, so I let Kelly handle both the greeting and the subsequent berating. “Steph, holy fuck! I can’t believe he won the whole thing!”
And there it is. The catalyst for my hysterics. I’d thought I was there before, but this round of wails is on a completely different level than its predecessors; wall-shaking, window-shattering shrieks that can summon all the cats in my quiet condo complex.
“Oh, sweetie. I’m so sorry.” Kelly’s voice is soothing, but there isn’t much at this point that can give me any degree of comfort when my best friend, the man I adore with my entire heart and soul, is about to be ripped out of my life forever. Forget the skanky groupies at the gross bars he’s used to. In a few weeks, he’ll be in LA, the beautiful people capital of the universe. Forget cropped tops and illegal-length skirts. They just waltz around in string bikinis. And ridiculously high heels.
Okay, so I may watch a little too much reality television. Sue me. I’m going through a massive quarter-life crisis right now.
I need a donut. Actually, scratch that. I need at least a dozen.
My stomach growls in agreement. I’d missed dinner because I was late finishing a report for a meeting tomo
rrow, and then I had to make time to watch my world crumble. And again, food took a backseat. Now, in the aftermath of the collapse, my body has decided I’ve lost too much in one night and my appetite is now raging.
“Are you going to speak, Steph? Or are you just going to drown your sorrows in jelly and glaze?”
Shit, she knows me too well. My fingers are poised over the donut box, hovering over my absolute favorite variety. It’s big, doughy, and dripping with sticky sugary goodness that will gift me with a jolt of artificial happiness. I need this. Actually, I need about eleven more…
So badly.
The first bite erases some of the sorrow. When the sweet strawberry flavor hits my tongue, my lips curl into a smile. It’s hard not to with this deliciousness exhilarating my senses. However, the sensation doesn’t last long…just enough for me to swallow that first bite. This is me, self-soothing.
A loud knock at the front door makes my eyes widen. Oh no, she didn’t. I place the donut on a napkin and lick the drops of jelly from my lips before I pull open the door. Kelly is standing in front of me, phone to her ear, eyebrow cocked. “Do you feel better now?”
I nod, swallowing a second bite. God bless my sister for coming to rescue me during my darkest hour. She can just watch me eat my way back to sanity in person instead of listening to me chomp away my agony. “Mmmph.”
“Good. Now, what’s your plan?”
I furrow my brow and stop mid-chew. “Plan?”
She pushes past me and tosses her handbag and coat on the couch. “Yes. What are you going to do next?”
“You mean, like climb Mount Everest? Or hop a plane to Vegas and put it all on black? Or—?”
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