Black

by Donya Lynne

  To make sure you get details about the latest news, updates, preorders, and new releases, subscribe to my newsletter and follow me on BookBub.

  Now turn the page for an excerpt from Micah’s Bride, book 9 of the All the King’s Men Series.

  Excerpt from Micah’s Bride

  “Micah, where are you taking me?” She peered out the passenger window at the unfamiliar surroundings. Colossal mansions with gated driveways and yards the size of football fields whizzed past.

  He didn’t answer her.

  She shifted and stared across the front seat at him. When he still didn’t respond, she asked again, a little more pointedly. “Where are we going?”

  His smirk turned into a wry smile. “I told you, it’s a surprise.”

  “I thought you were taking me to dinner.”

  “You assumed I was taking you to dinner.”

  “Fine, I assumed. Clearly, that’s not the case.” She gestured out the window at another mansion as they flew past it.

  “Are you hungry?” He glanced at her like the thought hadn’t even occurred to him.

  Her brow knitted inward. Actually, she wasn’t hungry, but admitting that to him felt like defeat, and she hated admitting defeat. “A little. Maybe.”

  “No you’re not.” He chuckled.

  She withdrew her hand from his. “Yeah, well, I could be.”

  He put both hands on the wheel, not even bothering to pretend he was affronted. “If you get hungry, there will be food where we’re going.”

  “Where exactly is that?”

  “It’s a surprise, Sam. Meaning I can’t tell you. If I told you, it wouldn’t be a surprise anymore.”

  With a frustrated growl, she crossed her arms. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

  He laughed. “Relax. I’m your hero, remember?” His voice took on a dramatic flair. “The dude who saved you from Steve. You know, Superman to your Lois Lane. So just sit back and let me play the part tonight.” He tugged her arm free and wrapped his hand around hers again. “Trust me, baby, you’re going to have an incredible time.”

  Something in his tone harkened to a night not too long ago when they’d attended a sex party hosted inside a mansion much like those lining both sides of the road. It was the party where Micah discovered that Trace was a submissive. What a night that had been.

  She glanced down at her silk blouse and dress slacks. “Micah, I’m not dressed for this.”

  His eyebrows rose in amusement as he picked up her thoughts. “A sex party? That’s where you think I’m taking you?”

  “Aren’t you?”

  A low, dark chuckle laced with mischief rumbled from deep inside his throat. “I’m not taking you to a sex party, Sam.”

  “Then where are you taking me?”

  The car began to slow, and Micah let go of her hand and hit the right turn signal. “You’ll find out soon enough.”

  Not surprisingly, the driveway they turned onto was gated, just like all the rest they’d passed in the last mile.

  “I hate surprises,” she muttered.

  Actually, she didn’t hate surprises. She loved them. She just hated knowing a surprise was coming and not knowing how long she had to wait for it.

  Micah pulled up to the gate and glanced out the driver’s side window at one of the numerous cameras aimed at the car. Almost immediately, the mechanized gate crawled open, and Micah accelerated through.

  What lay beyond was something out of Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous. A long, winding driveway led up to a behemoth of a home that looked more like a palace than a house in Chicago’s suburbs. Lights illuminated the windows, and giant columns bookended the double-doored entrance that looked big enough for the Jolly Green Giant to pass through with inches to spare.

  The grounds were just as impressive. A large fountain with a pair of stone angels on top rose opposite the house, and decorative crab apple trees covered in white and reddish-purple blossoms dotted the rolling landscape. Even at night, she could see the diagonal pattern in the freshly cut lawn.

  Whoever lived here probably employed an army of gardeners and landscapers, as well as a squadron of servants who cooked and cleaned twenty-four hours a day. Perhaps a butler with a perfect English accent who laid out his master’s clothes every morning and drew a bath in a tub the size of a small moon for the lady of the house every night.

  Did butlers have sex?

  It was an odd, random question, but Sam had been thinking a lot about sex lately. All kinds of sex. It seemed that now that she was pregnant, she could get turned on by something as insignificant as a display of cucumbers in the produce section of the grocery store.

  And now she was obsessively fascinated with how butlers sounded when they had sex.

  Might you spread your legs wider for me, my dear? That’s lovely. I do hope your groans mean you are enjoying yourself. Oh, yes, I am, too, thank you for asking. I do believe I’m about to come. I hope you’re prepared. Ah, here it is. Climaxing with you is always such a joy. Shall I fetch a warm towel and tidy you up?

  Sam grinned at her version of English-accent butler sex. It was pretty preposterous, but she just couldn’t imagine a butler going from the pinnacle of propriety to raunchy and debased, saying things like, “How do you like it, baby? How do you like my cock in your ass?” while rutting like a wild animal.

  Micah sighed and shook his head, casting her an exasperated glance as he took the final curve that led to the home’s entrance.

  Sam raised one eyebrow. “What?”

  “Butlers don’t talk like that during sex. All ‘might I fetch you a towel?’”

  “They don’t?” She was toying with him, but if he wasn’t going to tell her where they were or why, he deserved a little sassiness.

  “No.” He stopped the car in front of a set of wide, rounded granite steps that looked like they would have been right at home in front of the White House. Or Buckingham Palace.

  “Then how do they talk?”

  “Not like that.” Micah unfastened his seat belt and gave her a sultry look. “You’d be surprised how debased a ‘pinnacle of propriety’ can become when he—or she—is in the throes of passion.” He winked, then pushed open his door.

  “Oh? And you know this because . . .?” She unbuckled and started to open the passenger door when a male wearing a tuxedo with tails appeared out of nowhere and opened it for her.

  Startled by the unexpected assistance, she briefly hesitated. “Oh, uh, thank you.”

  The male held out a white-gloved hand. “Madame.” Obviously, he expected her to let him assist her out of the car.

  She was perfectly capable, but she let him help her anyway.

  Micah tossed his keys to a second overdressed male, who stepped out of a small valet house off to the side. Then he joined her and took her hand, leaning in close, continuing their conversation as if they hadn’t been interrupted. “I know how butlers talk during sex, because I’ve seen it in their thoughts.”

  Of course he had. Micah probably knew every sordid secret of everyone he’d ever come in contact with, but you’d never know it. The male was like a vault, never divulging what he knew unless he had to. Which made Sam respect him that much more.

  “You have, have you?” She wrapped her free hand around his forearm, imagining herself on her knees in front of him, his cock in her mouth. “Tell me what I’m thinking right now.”

  Lust-filled shadows darkened his navy blue irises as his gaze swept her face, landing on her mouth. “Thoughts that are going to make us very late if you don’t stop thinking them.”

  She pressed closer and dropped her hand to his groin. He was hard. Just that fast, the thought of swallowing him down her throat had gotten him as hard as concrete. “I don’t mind being a little late.”

  She didn’t even know why they were there anyway, so who cared if they didn’t arrive on time? They could duck around the side of the house, find a nice dark shadow, unbutton and strip out of a few clothes and—


  He nudged her away with a soft moan. “All of that sounds nice, but trust me, baby, you don’t want to be late for this.”

  Really? He was putting whatever waited behind the skyscraper-tall double doors at the top of the steps over sex? This was a first.

  “Raincheck then?” She took a small step back, a little disappointed that she couldn’t cash in some of the pregnancy hormones playing with her arousal like it was their own personal petting zoo.

  She was rapidly becoming obsessed with sex. She’d read that pregnancy could affect the libido, but she hadn’t been prepared for this. She was like a guy, thinking about sex every five minutes. Exhibit one: butler-sex fantasy. Exhibit two: her current fantasy of accosting Micah like he were an ice cream cone she wanted to lick and suck all night.

  “Jesus, Sam . . .” Micah briefly tipped his head back as he gripped her hips and pulled her against him. When his head came forward again, he clenched his jaw and issued a long, low growl as he rested his forehead against hers. “You’ve got to stop thinking those thoughts.”

  “You don’t like them?”

  “It’s not that.” Another growl, this one more abrupt. “I fucking love them. It’s just that”—he glanced toward the front doors as if he were having second thoughts—”we can’t. Not yet. Trust me, you really do not want to be late. And when you find out why we’re here, if I let you molest me right now—which I’m really fucking tempted to do, by the way—you’ll be pissed at me for making you late. So, no.” He gave her a nudge in the direction of the door. “We are not going to get it on in the dark shadows of the side yard.”

  She bit back a coy smile. “Fine, you win.” But it sounded like what lay inside this very fine, very impressive home would be worth putting off her hungry-for-sex pregnancy hormones a little longer. “But after we leave here, you’re mine, Black.” She trailed the tip of her index finger down the center of his full lips, his chin, his neck, to his chest. “All mine. To do with as I please.” Brushing her thumb over his nipple, she placed a soft but smoldering kiss on his mouth. “Have you got a problem with that?”

  His gaze burned into hers. “Hell, no. Bring it, female.”

  “Good. Then take me in there”—she bobbed her head toward the house—”show me what you need to show me, and let’s get this over with so I can take you home and fuck the hell out of you.”

  He licked his lips, then folded the bottom one between his teeth as his nostrils flared on an inhale. “God, I love you.”

  “I love you too.” She backed away and held her hand out to his. “Now let’s do this. I’m horny.”

  He chuckled darkly as he took her hand and started up the steps. “Have I ever told you you’re my kind of female.”

  “Every day.”

  The towering home seemed to loom larger the closer she got.

  “Who lives here anyway?” she asked. “Jay-Z and Beyoncé?”

  Micah let out an amused snort but didn’t answer.

  The word house didn’t even seem appropriate for this place. Grand architectural wonder meant to be stared at in awe? Yes, that was a more fitting description.

  “Well . . .?” Sam eyed him.

  He grinned. “This isn’t Jay-Z’s crib.”

  There was something playful about Micah tonight. Different but playful. And he was quieter than usual, as if he didn’t want to say too much for fear of ruining the surprise. The question was, what surprise?

  “Then whose crib is it?”

  They stepped up to the door—God, it looked even taller from up close—and Micah rang the bell. “So impatient,” he gently admonished.

  Loud, musical chiming came from inside, reminding her of church bells in the distance. You knew you were wealthy when your doorbell sounded like the bells of Notre Dame.

  A moment later the doors opened in unison, pulled inward by twin servants dressed much the same as the valets. Tuxes and tails, white gloves, and black loafers that shined like polished ebony.

  “Ah, Micah. There you are.”

  Sam’s mouth fell open as King Bain walked toward them, arms outstretched in greeting, followed by a tall, elegant female dressed in a dark-blue, floor-length gown. Long, loosely spiraled strands fell from her dark, upswept hair and tumbled past her shoulders.

  This image of grace and poise could only be the queen.

  Sam glanced at Micah. Back at the king and queen. Down at her less-than-appropriate attire. Back at Micah.

  “This is the king’s home?” she whispered sharply. “You didn’t tell me . . .? You should have told me.” Her face felt like the business end of a frying pan on a hot stove.

  Bain laughed as Micah released her hand and placed his on the small of her back, as if he were presenting her.

  “Welcome to my home, Samantha,” King Bain said, lifting his thick arm to indicate the opulent foyer with its gold accents, two-foot-diameter floral arrangements, and a pair of chandeliers so sparkly they had to be made of diamonds. Then he turned devoted eyes to the magnificently appointed female at his side. “This is my mate—my queen—Cara.” The way he said “my queen” made it clear he thought the sun revolved around her.

  This concludes this excerpt. To continue reading, download Micah’s Bride today.

  Books by Donya Lynne

  All the King’s Men Series

  Rise of the Fallen

  Heart of the Warrior

  Micah’s Calling

  Rebel Obsession

  Return of the Assassin

  All the King’s Men - The Beginning

  Bound Guardian Angel

  BLACK

  Micah’s Bride

  Strong Karma Trilogy

  Good Karma

  Coming Back to You

  Full Circle

  Good Things Come (2019)

  Banger Trilogy

  Choose Me

  Covet Me

  Cherish Me

  Savage Storm Trilogy

  Coming in 2018

  Standalones

  Finding Lacey Moon

  Little Things

  Suspicion

  Standalone M/M Titles

  Winter’s Fire

  Collections and Anthologies

  All the King’s Men Vol. 1 (books 1-3)

  All the King’s Men Vol. 2 (books 4-6)

  Strong Karma Trilogy Boxed Set

  About the Author

  Donya Lynne is the bestselling author of the award winning All the King’s Men and Strong Karma Series and a member of Romance Writers of America. Making her home in a wooded suburb north of Indianapolis with her husband, Donya has lived in Indiana most of her life and knew at a young age she was destined to be a writer. She started writing poetry in grade school and won her first short story contest in fourth grade. In junior high, she began writing romantic stories for her friends, and by her sophomore year, she’d been dubbed Most Likely to Become a Romance Novelist. In 2012, she fulfilled her dream by publishing her first two novels and a novella. Her work has earned her two IPPYs, five eLit Awards, a USA Today Recommended Read, and numerous accolades, including two Smashwords bestsellers. When she’s not writing, she can be found cheering on the Indianapolis Colts or doing her cats’ bidding.

  Connect with Donya Lynne

  Sign up for Donya’s newsletter

  Join my reader group:

  Donya Lynne’s Reader Group

  Follow me on BookBub:

  https://www.bookbub.com/authors/donya-lynne

  Follow me on Facebook:

  www.facebook.com/AuthorDonyaLynne

  Follow me on Amazon:

  Donya Lynne Amazon Author Page

  Like my Fan Page:

  www.facebook.com/DonyaLynne

  Follow me on Twitter:

  @DonyaLynne

  If you’d like to email me:

  donya@donyalynne.com

  Check out my Website:

  www.donyalynne.com

  sp;