by Selena Kitt
The way he said her name caused heat to slice through her, bathing her with lust. Her belly tightened with need.
Yesterday’s awful incident flashed through her mind. Her spine stiffened. “Why have you come? All threats can be coursed through our public relations office. You needn’t deliver them yourself. Or perhaps, you can send your grandmother to make trouble again at the store—” A gasp escaped her lips as he advanced on her, his expression stern and forbidding. He didn’t seem to see the big desk as a hindrance, for he went around it.
Erica staggered away from the desk, putting one foot after the other behind her automatically until her back hit the wall. Still, he came toward her until his face was but an inch away from her. She pressed against the wall, breathless. His hands shot out on either side of her head, trapping her.
She looked up into his clear gray eyes, liquid pools of something unidentifiable that sent her heart racing. Fear? Desire? Anticipation?
She didn’t know anymore. She only knew that he was here, in front of her, and yet so far, separated by a chasm called family. The worst of it was that she wanted him, wanted him as she wanted no other man before him, wanted him so much that she ached with it. But the thought of her father in the hospital—
“I have to come. I need to come.” His low, gravelly voice sent shivers through her body. He pressed against her, and his cock brushed against her belly.
She closed her eyes and moaned, savoring the long-awaited contact.
“We do have some unfinished business to take care of.”
The words made her eyes snap open. Anger stirred within her. She tried to push him away, but to no avail. She glared up at him. “What?! You came for more lies? Weren’t those enough for you?”
“Your body doesn’t lie, Erica. You want me, that much is clear.” He cupped her breast and one traitorous nipple peaked against his palm.
His heat was threatening to swamp her, almost causing her to forget her objections, his reasons for being here. With effort, she forced the words out, “So what! Stop taunting me, Heath Sullivan! Is this how you mean to get your revenge, humiliating me, turning my body against me—” Her words ended in what could pass for a sob, as a dizzying array of emotions coursed through her.
“There is no shame in your body’s needs for me,” he whispered fiercely. His eyes burned down into hers, his breath hot upon her face.
“I saw how you despise me yesterday, how you thought I deliberately sought to entrap you”—the words hurt her, more than it seemed to hurt him, but she forced herself to go on—”knowing that you’re a Sullivan—”
“I was wrong.” His masculine scent surrounded her. His hand moved down her body to cup her buttocks. He pulled her against him, such that she felt the hard throbbing length at the juncture of her thighs.
Her breath hitched. Heat spiraled. A sensual lethargy stole over her.
“There is no deceitful bone in your body, Erica. You’re all sweetness and honest passion.” Her head fell back against the wall. His head followed, his lips tasting the strong column of her throat. “You were kind to my grandma, even after all that she’d done against you and your family.”
“No!” Her fists flailed against his back, a weak effort. “We can’t—our families—feud—hate—”
Under her skirt, his hand skimmed the length of her thigh, light feathery touches that had her wriggling against him. Her nipples chafed against her bra as she rubbed her breasts against his chest. He dipped a finger inside her panties and encountered the satisfying wetness of her arousal. He murmured against the pulse point at the base of her neck, “Do you hate me, Erica?”
More sexy fairy tales to make bedtime exciting.
Naughty Fairy Tales Vol. 2
© April 2007 by Isabelle Rose
Have you ever wondered...
...about Red Riding Hood’s real story? Wolf follows her through the forest hoping to make her his next tasty meal. The last thing either one of them expected was for sparks to fly. With Geoffrey Hunter hot on their trail, who will get to Grandmother’s house first?
...if Beauty really tamed the Beast? Or did he bring out the wildness in her? After Linda hears her father’s ramblings about a monster in a far off chateau, she decides to see this creature for herself. What—or who—she finds there is more than she had bargained for.
...if Cinderella had really want to go to the ball? In this new twist on a classic fairy tale, Marie was an abused orphan trapped under her stepmother’s thumb. One night, she decides she’s had enough and runs away to her Aunt Millicent’s house, but not before having erotic adventures along the way. No fairy godmothers in this story, only a sneaky aunt and a crafty gypsy.
Bedtime got even more exciting!
Editor’s Note: This book contains scenes that may be offensive to some readers, such as multiple partners.
Enjoy the following excerpt:
A half-naked man jumped out from the bushes and landed in front of her.
“Oh!” Red gasped.
“Don’t be afraid, I won’t hurt you,” he said, lifting his hands up to the level of his chest, palms facing out. Yet. “My name is William Wolf. But you, my dear, you can call me Wolf. Where are you going in such a rrrush?”
“Good day, Mr. Wolf. My name is Red Wallace, and I’m going to my grandmother’s house.”
She couldn’t take her eyes off him. He was incredibly handsome ... and dangerous, with those scars across his chest. His pants were torn at the knees and his long hair was loosely tied behind his back, reaching the middle of his back. She smiled. He might be exactly what she was looking for. She noticed the way his eyes noted every small thing, how he flexed his muscles, and how he seemed to be very restless, unable to stand still in one place.
“Why? It’s such a beautiful day. Why waste it inside some old woman’s house?” Red wasn’t a slacker in detail either. She noted how Wolf wrung his hands nervously. He definitely had other things in his mind. She decided that she would have some fun with him—Mr. Wolf, who thought he was fooling Red into thinking that he was normal. She knew better. She knew a wolf when she saw one.
“My mother said that I had to. She says Grandmother is ill and needs bread and wine to make her strong again.” She showed him her basket, and just as she said, there was bread and wine neatly packed inside.
“You’ll miss it then,” Wolf said nonchalantly, as if he had nary a care.
“Miss what?”
“Oh you wouldn’t be interested,” he said, walking away from her.
“Interested in what?” she insisted as she followed him.
“The wild flowers that have started blooming. The rabbits chasing each other in the open field. The lake sparkling like the stars at midnight.” His eyes became glassy. She saw the veins popping out of his neck. “The freedom of the wild.” He growled.
For a moment she wanted to disobey her mother and stray from the path. She wanted to see the world like he did. That was when Red became frightened of him. She saw the golden glow of his eyes. She was right. He was a real wolf. She shook her head and then said, “No, no, no. You’re trying to trick me.” She lifted her chin and began walking away from Wolf.
“Me? Trick you? I’m telling you nothing but the truth. But you’ll miss it.” He smiled and walked away from the path.
“I want to see these things,” she whispered mostly to herself.
He flashed to her side, a blur of that had her head spinning. “Then go.” He whispered in her ear. He licked her from her throat to her nape, taking the time to suck on her plump lobe while he was at it. She shuddered and her knees buckled.
“But I can’t,” she murmured, her knees still shaking. Her groin became warm and she clamped her legs together. She wanted to spread them wide. She was filled with so much wanting. She wanted to make love to Wolf right then and there.
“Sure you can. Go pick the flowers. Smell them,” he said as he placed his hands on her waist and pulled her back against his crotch. She felt his erection right between
her butt cheeks. Her facial cheeks reddened and became warm as she felt him grow harder.
“Oh my goodness,” she moaned.
“There is nothing good down there.” He moved his hands from her waist to her inner thighs. Her vision grew blurry with so much wanting. He lifted her skirt. She almost made him stop when she remembered that she wasn’t wearing any undergarments. She gasped when she felt his hands on her pussy. He pushed his finger inside her and pulled it out. It was slick with her juices. He brought it up to his mouth and she imagined him sucking on his finger. The image caused her to grow even wetter.
“Oh God,” Wolf moaned. He spun her around and kissed her passionately on the lips. “I’ll see you soon, my dear.” He turned and ran into the forest.
Red’s knees grew weak and she slid down the ground. “He’s perfect,” she whispered, her eyes glued to his back until he disappeared among the trees.
A closet full of sexual toys,
a chronic masturbator, and matchmaking mothers.
Is it the right mix for A Christmas To Remember?
A Christmas to Remember
© December 2006 by Imari Jade
As if being beautiful, rich and self-centered isn’t enough, romance writer Jacinda Murphy is saddled with a therapist who thinks she can be cured just by going to group therapy, a manuscript deadline to meet, and a matchmaking mother who tries to fix her up with an old childhood friend whom she has despised for years. One thing they don’t know about her—she has a life and a closet full of sex toys waiting at home for her.
Sebastian Collins doesn’t understand why his family and his therapist won’t stop meddling in his personal life. His father thinks he’s gay, and his mother thinks he’s shy, just because he would rather work all day and relax in his home alone in the evenings. But he’s neither of these. He just likes to spend most of his free time in front of his television masturbating to porn and dreaming of Jacinda Murphy, the only woman he’s ever been in love with.
Jacinda’s and Sebastian’s meddlesome mothers are fed up by the lack of progress in the relationship between their children, and concocted several schemes to bring the two of them together. Because sometimes, love needs a little push ... in the right direction.
Editor’s Note: This book contains scenes that may be offensive to some readers, such as the use of sexual toys.
Enjoy the following excerpt:
Okay, she was still beautiful, Sebastian thought as he drove back to his home after his session with Doctor Betty. So were eighty percent of the women in the world. So why did seeing Jacinda Murphy make him giddy as a teenager? Because it had always been that way, he mused.
He walked into his house and pressed the button on the answering machine. There were a couple of business calls, and one from his mother reminding him about the annual Christmas fund-raiser they always worked together. Each year they collected toys for underprivileged children. His mother had been diligently collecting them since the day after last Christmas, but there were still some donations to pick up. His mother assigned him a few things to do to help. He had seen to most of them, and just had a few minor details to work out, like get a date.
“And don’t forget we’re having dinner with the Murphys on Christmas Eve,” his mother added before hanging up.
As he headed up to his suite of rooms, he found himself wondering if Jacinda would be attending this year. Her mother always made up some excuse for her instead of just saying that Jacinda had a life.
Sebastian had kept tabs on Jacinda even though he’d not seen her in ten years. He had read a couple of her earlier books. They were a bit on the girly side, but very well written. When they were kids, he hadn’t imagined she would become a writer. He thought she would be a fashion model or an interior designer. Or maybe a pampered rich girl who lived off her husband’s money. Perhaps he had been wrong about her.
Sebastian reached his suite. He walked through the wooden door and into the sitting room. He flipped a switch on the wall to turn on the lights and reached over to his left and hung his car keys on the key rack. As he passed by a mahogany Queen Anne chair, he tossed his coat on the back of it and continued into the master bedroom, where he flipped on another light switch. This turned on the two lamps beside his king-sized bed and the over-head ceiling fan, which began to circulate the air. He put his hand on his hips and surveyed the room. It was still too dark for his tastes, so he walked over to the window and drew back the heavy burgundy and gold drapes. Satisfied, he turned away from the window and sat down on his bed. He removed his shoes and socks and then stood back up on the thick burgundy carpeting. His thoughts turned to Jacinda as he headed toward the bathroom.
He wondered why she was seeing Doctor Betty. Maybe she had a fear of men. That could be it, since her mother never talked about her dating any one. Sebastian turned on the shower and adjusted the water temperature. He stripped off his clothes and stepped beneath the shower spray. She was probably frigid. If that was the truth, it was a shame, he thought as images of her soft blonde hair danced before his eyes. She wore it a little shorter now, a little more fashionable than she had worn it as a teenager. Back then it was so long that it hung down to her deliciously rounded ass. Now it barely brushed her shoulders.
He would be lying if he said she hadn’t changed. She had grown from a nubile young teenager into a beautiful woman. She had the perfect face of an angel, eyes as blue as a robin’s egg, and very high cheekbones. And those lips ... Where in the hell did she get those? They were so lush and full, and just the thought of them wrapped around his penis made him light-headed.
He ran his hand down his chest, rubbing the soap until it rinsed away. He rinsed lower, envisioning her pert breasts, her flat stomach and her rounded hips. He would bet his fortune that a golden nest of curls were laying between her legs, just waiting for a man to tangle his fingers in it. And her thighs were probably so creamy his fingers would sink inside when he parted them. He unconsciously put the soap in the dish and began stroking his swollen member. He looked down. He could barely get his fist around it and it nearly touched his knee. All the doctors he visited over the years tried to convince him that it was normal, but he didn’t think so. His penis grew thick in his hands as he moved it in and out of the cup he had fashioned with his fists. He thrust his hips forward, imagining he was inside of Jacinda. Her soft moans sweetly filled his ear...
Tess Avery’s quest for the man of her dreams ignites a killer’s vengeance and sets fire to the investigating detective’s heart.
Death by Indifference
© January 2007 by Caitlyn Hunter
Tess Avery’s innocent quest for the man of her dreams takes a frightening turn when the first two men she meets are brutally murdered.
Enter Lieutenant Sam Marshall; tall, handsome, and yummy enough to set her imagination on fire. She’s tempted to do more than fantasize, but she values her independence too much to get involved with an obvious alpha-male like him. Still ... all those sparks he’s giving off are enough to draw her closer to the flame, and when he kisses her, rational thought goes up in smoke as her body goes to permanent smolder. Yikes! Is it possible he’s the man she’s been searching for?
Sam’s a good detective, but after meeting Tess, his mind isn’t thinking about the job. Instead, it’s filled with thoughts of sex—wild, blazing, out-of-control sex, with Tess, as soon as possible, as often as he can—maybe for the rest of his life. Now, that’s a scary thought for a man like him. He knows he should focus on the case and control his urges, but all that heat is clouding his judgment and steaming up his brain. Is it possible he’s finally met the one woman who can make him give up his freedom?
The only things they have in common are irresistible desire and a growing number of dead bodies. Can they stop a killer and stay alive long enough to claim their happy ending?
Warning! This e-book contains substantial sexually explicit scenes and graphic language, which may be considered offensive to some readers.
; Enjoy the following excerpt:
Growing old sucks, growing old sucks. The thought whirled through Tess Avery’s brain like an out-of-control dervish.
Growing old sucks—yeah, okay, truer words and all that. Now, stop whining and focus! Come up with a plan, Tess, or you won’t have to worry about growing old because you’re going to be ... don’t think it. Please, don’t think it! Think about your girls. Think about Sam. Oh, God, Sam, who showed you what real passion was. Sam, who made you believe in the possibility of happily ever after. Sam, who says he loves you.
You remember that. Get your brain in gear and come up with a way to get out of this, or you’ll never know if true love is real or just a myth. Think, you idiot!
Light glinted off the blade of the knife, and a new mantra slammed into her brain. I don’t want to die. I don’t want to die!
She strained against the scarves binding her wrists as he used the knife to slash open her nightgown, muttering as he worked, “You’re mine, Tess, you’re mine.”
The words were repeated over and over, an off-beat echo of her spinning thoughts. Growing old sucks. You’re mine. Growing old sucks. You’re mine. I don’t want to die. You’re mine. I don’t want to die. You’re mine.
Well, set it to music, Tess. It can be your funeral dirge because this lunatic is going to kill you if you don’t do something here!
He folded back her gown and swept his eyes over her body. She shivered, shook her head in denial then stilled when the knife caught her attention. It gleamed in the light, sharp and shiny, hungry for her flesh, her blood and ... oh God, please, I don’t want to die.
He smiled as he set the knife on the bedside table, stroking the gleaming blade as if caressing a lover. After patting the handle fondly, he turned those crazed eyes back to Tess and whispered, “You are mine, Tess, my darling.”