Some Write It Hot

February 14, 2011

New Release Back In The Closet by KevaD

Filed under: New Release — dangerouslysexy @ 04:00
Tags: , , , , ,

Blurb:

Sometimes the best-laid plans don’t mean you get laid.

Chaz and Mike are inaugurating their life together as an openly gay couple. Bliss is inevitable, until a dead relative rises up and brings their plans to a screeching halt.

Chaz’s not-so-dearly departed Amish Uncle Silas has bequeathed his nephew his farm . . . and a $60,000 tax bill if Chaz doesn’t play by the rules.

With empty wallets, the duo and their kitten, TCT, head off for Iowa to live on the farm for ninety days – without electricity or plumbing . . . or sex.

While Mike finds trees to climb, horses to ride, and a big ax to play with, and TCT discovers a wide array of critters to chase and capture, Chaz faces a past veiled in mystery.

As a young boy, Chaz spent time on the farm. Why can’t he remember the giant oak tree or the ancient barn? Each time he tries to enter the barn, terror stops him cold.

Chaz will need courage he’s never had before, along with all the strength in his partner’s lusciously muscled body, to solve the riddles plaguing him. Keeping Mike and his axe from chopping off the wrong piece of lumber might not be a bad idea, either.

Excerpt:

“Chaz, it’s a dick, not a birthday candle.” Mike rolled his eyes.

This wasn’t working out at all like I’d thought it would. It had become painfully obvious the best-laid plans didn’t always mean you got laid.
I looked up from between Mike’s muscled thighs. The un-bottled perfume of his heat and pearly drops of natural lubricant hung in the air.

“Then why do they call it a blowjob?”

I certainly didn’t know. I’d bruised myself the first time I tried to beat off. The epiphany – and me – came when I massaged my swollen member to ease the pain.

He flopped his head onto the pillow and rubbed his brow in an attempt to stave off the obvious headache. “I don’t know, man. Why do they call showing somebody your ass, ‘shooting the moon?’ The moon doesn’t have a butt crack through the middle of it.”

The size of the monster in my hands set my tongue on a collision course with my quivering nerves. “Actually, it has nothing to do with the moon. Well, not in the classic idiom of the earth’s singular satellite. The terminology relates to the concept of bringing darkness into the light. The adage purportedly has historical references as far back as Adonis. You see, Adonis, by popular opinion, somewhere along the line became confused, intertwined if you will, with a nonexistent god named Adidas. Thusly, Adidas holds reference to ‘false identify,’ which in turn may, at times, depending on the debate, also mean ‘to bring out the reality of that concealed.’ In layman’s vocabulary, ‘shooting the moon’ is a primitive means of revealing something previously hidden. I can explain it further if it would help?”

His left hand joined his right in massaging his temples. “No. I’ve got it. Thanks.”

A muffled shriek rose from my throat. “You’re losing your erection!”

“Ya think?” Rolling onto his side, he patted the black silk sheets. “Come up here and lay with me.”

Begrudgingly, I obliged him. It was to be our first time. Not just as a couple, but as an openly gay couple. Two virginal homosexuals surrendering our homosexual virginity to each other. A beautiful, life-changing experience, and I’d blown it . . . sort of.

Mike pulled me in close. Even had I wanted to resist, which I didn’t, the strength of the high-rise construction worker wouldn’t have allowed me to. Tall and lean, the man’s muscles had muscles.

His abs weren’t washboard, they were those warning strips the street department puts down to wake up drivers so they don’t cruise through a stop sign. I swear his eyelids could lift as much weight as my spindly arms could. I leaned against telephone poles. Mike climbed them – upside down.

Warm, wet, his lips pressed a kiss onto my throat. My cock responded with a few drops of its own wetness, then shuddered and throbbed when his hand engulfed it.

“Let me show you how it’s done.” The words, throaty, all man, thrust more blood into my erection than I thought it could handle. My testicles tightened when he dotted my chest with kisses, a trail of wanting to my waist.

“Mrrrrowwww. Ssssss.”

The Cat Too. TCT for short. A tuxedo kitten Mike had given me, the traitorous creature had abandoned me for Mike. Sat on his shoulder like a parrot.

“Ssssss.”

I’d put it out of the bedroom. If it was going to throw a hissy fit every time Mike and I made – tried to – make love, we needed another plan.

Bzzz, bzzz, bzzz, bzzz. The doorbell? Great. Just fricking wonderful.

The moment, and my erection, waning, Mike rolled onto his back and sighed. “You get the impression this isn’t supposed to happen today?”
“There’s always tonight.” I whispered, kissed his forehead, then tumbled off the bed. Slipping into gray flannel shorts and a T-shirt, I opened the bedroom door. There stood TCT, back arched, tail perpendicular, eyes focused towards the entrance to our apartment. He hadn’t thrown a fit about us, he’d known before the bell rang somebody was at the door.

“Good, kitty.” I stroked his back. He responded by wrapping his fur ball body around my hand, sank needle-sharp teeth and claws into my skin, then left me bleeding while he bolted through the doorway and scrambled up the covers to lie next to Mike.

My cat. Yeah, right.

Wounded, both in body and spirit, I opened the front door.

“Chaz Westerbrook?” the woman asked – in a baritone voice.

“Yes?” I scoured the face. Nothing about it held any familiarity. Either as a male or female. The orange bouffant looked nice, in a Folies-Bergere sort of way. The Adam’s apple had a point capable of popping balloons. He was tall enough, that’s where my line-of-sight rested.
“Would you autograph this for me? Please?”

In his hand he held a copy of my debut novel, “A Kiss From the Shadows,” the first book of my gay love trilogy. A fan. My chest and ego swelled with pride.

“Certainly.” Taking the novel from him, I asked, “Do you have a pen?”

He unbuttoned the top three buttons of his lavender paisley sundress and pulled a pen out of his black lace bra.

I opened the cover. “Who would you like it to?”

“Jasmine. If you don’t mind?”

His smile was priceless. Really. All of the teeth were capped in gold with diamond insets on the canines. I didn’t want to ask why. He might have told me.

“To Jasmine,” I said aloud. “You will always be in my thoughts. Chaz.” It was true. How could I forget him? His chest was hairier than TCT. I handed the book back to him. “Have you ever considered filling in your cleft? You remind me of a young Kirk Douglas.” I left out the part about a young Kirk Douglas crossbred with King Kong.

“I get that a lot.” He embraced the book to his chest, licked it – yuck – and opened a lime green shoulder bag. “You seeing anyone?” The long-lashed, brown eyes looked a little too hopeful.

“Yeah, snow cone.” The growl came from behind me. “He’s in a relationship, so hit the bricks.”

“Well,” he huffed. “In that case . . . .” The book went in the bag. When he withdrew his hand, a sheaf of papers thumped against my chest.

“You’ve been served.”

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January 31, 2011

Releasing February 1–Masters of the Shadowlands Five: Make Me Sir by Cherise Sinclair

== Blurb for Make Me, Sir =====================================

Her job is to make his life miserable. His job is to make her submit. Whose heart will surrender first?

Across the country, rebellious BDSM submissives are being systematically kidnapped, one from each club. When her friend falls prey to the slavers, FBI victim specialist Gabrielle volunteers to be bait in a club not yet hit: the Shadowlands.

She finds that being a bratty sub comes naturally, especially when she gets to twit the appallingly conservative Master of the trainees. But she soon discovers he’s not as stuffy as she’d thought. Or as mean. She’d expected punishment, even humiliation, but she sure never expected to fall in love with a damned lawyer.

Courtesy of a prima donna ex-wife, Marcus loathes disobedient submissives. When the club owner insists he admit an incredibly bratty trainee, he’s furious. But as he comes to know Gabrielle and sees the alluring sweetness beneath the sass, he starts to fall for her.

Unfortunately, Marcus isn’t the only one who believes the feisty redhead is a prize worth capturing. And in the world of the slaver, such treasure is worth a hefty fee.

===Excerpt for Make Me, Sir =======================================

The model-gorgeous guy in the suit didn’t like her. Gabrielle saw that already, but no real problem. The only one she had to impress was Master Marcus, and hopefully the suit wouldn’t tell on her. The man positively oozed rich and powerful, so he must be a big shot in the club. “I guess I’d better get back there before my boss arrives.”

“Who?”

“Master Marcus. I’m waiting for him.”

“You most certainly possess a poor idea of how to wait.” He stared at her for another minute, disapproval radiating from him. “I have a notion that introductions are in order before you work your way further into trouble. I am Master Marcus.”

She choked. Oh, no. This day is so not going well. “Ah.” She cleared her throat and tried again. “Nice to meet you. Um –”

“And might I ask your name?” he asked politely. Too politely.

She took a second look at him, at his fancy tailored suit. Dark gray with pinstripes. Oh please, like she’d really believe he was a dom at all? “Gabrielle Anderson. Are you sure you’re Master Marcus?”

He cocked his head. The guy was way too good-looking. Tall, broad-shouldered, lean. His hair, a rich brown shading to gold on the ends, was flawlessly styled. Definitely a perfect person like her parents. Gag. Even his tan wasn’t leathery, but just dark enough to set off incredibly blue eyes. Very sharp blue eyes, in fact, and turning colder by the second.

“Why would you think I’m not Master Marcus?” he asked.

Well, good grief. She waved a hand at him and kept the duh from slipping out. Just in case he really was Master Marcus. Maybe he hadn’t changed yet or something. “The suit? Where are your leathers or latex or…biker jacket or vest? And black? Did you forget to wear black?”

He stared for a second, as if she’d turned into a drooling idiot, and then simply roared. Deep, full laughter — amazing coming from someone who looked like he should have a stick up his ass.

She felt heat flooding her face and decided she really didn’t like him. Maybe he was the club accountant or administrator or something. Shifting her weight, she looked past him. Hopefully the Marcus guy would arrive soon. She needed to get all established before the arrival of the kidnapper — the unsub, as a real agent would call him. She frowned. Unsub sounded too much like fake submissive. That would be me. Maybe she’d call him a perp instead.

“Best you tell me about your previous experience in BDSM,” the suit said, and damn but he appeared totally different when he smiled. How many women had he destroyed with that devastating dimple in his left cheek and crease in the right? “Was it mostly in downtown clubs? Perhaps of the Goth variety?”

“Well, yeees. Why?” Several years ago too, but that’s not what she’d written on her application.

He motioned for her to precede him down the hall, and when she stepped in front of him, his hand closed on her nape. Firmly, as if she were a stray dog. “I do believe you’ll find a private club a mite different. A wider age range, diverse incomes, assorted tastes. Many doms here wear leathers and black; some prefer other attire.”

Her stomach sank with the authoritative way he’d gripped her neck. No accountant from the back would act like this — she’d run into a dom. In a suit. Who called himself…? “You really are Master Marcus?”

“I’m afraid so, darlin’.” He stopped at the place where chains hung from the low rafter and released her, only to walk around her slowly as if she stood on a display stand. “Is all your experience in public clubs?”

“Uh-huh.” In her college days, she’d pop into a club, have some fun, and maybe take someone home. But she hadn’t indulged since then. She’d set her sights on the FBI from day one and wasn’t about to mess up her chances by doing anything less than respectable.

“I see.” He tapped the ribbing on her bustier. “Remove that, please.”

She stared at him. Just like that? I only met you, dammit. She hesitated, but the merciless look in those blue eyes kicked her into gear. After undoing the hooks, she tossed the bustier onto a chair outside the ropes that fenced off the scene area. She forced her arms to stay at her sides and tried to ignore the air-conditioned draft on her bare breasts.

“Very pretty.” When he brushed sure fingers over her shoulder, into the hollow below her collarbone, and over the upper curve of one breast, her body woke up from her breasts all the way to her pussy — and that was damn disconcerting considering she didn’t even like the guy. But he had that ruthless attitude going for him — the dominant edge that put butterflies into her stomach as if she’d swallowed fluffy bugs.

“And did you play somewhere else?” he asked. “Privately?”

Her cheeks warmed. “Not…really. I might have gone home with a man after, but for kinky stuff, I stayed in the clubs. More public or something.”

“I see. You didn’t trust any dom enough to let him restrain you without other people around.”

“Ah.” She’d never thought of it like that but — okay. He was right. She nodded.

“I prefer to have verbal answers,” he said ever so softly. “‘Yes, Sir’ will serve for now.”

She couldn’t keep the shiver from running down her spine. The guy wielded a razor-sharp voice, no matter how soft it was. “Yes, Sir.”

“That sounds very pretty, sugar,” he said, and the caress in his voice turned all her bones into a seriously mushy state. Until he added, “Remove the skirt, please.”

She looked up, and his eyes could be just as lethal as his tone. Why did he bother to say ‘please’? She stepped out of the skirt, wishing she’d done more time in the gym. Done any time in the gym. Maybe walked a little at least. Nothing like a fat ass to impress a man.

But hey, this wasn’t about impressing the fussy dom. She’d come here to lure a kidnapper — a killer — into a trap. She shivered.

His eyes narrowed. “Do you have a problem with being unclothed?”

Hell. Keep your mind on business, Gabi. “No, Sir. Just cold, Sir.”

“Um-hmm.” He walked around her again, inspecting her as if she were the star at a dog show. Totally insulting — and yet she felt her nipples contracting to dagger points and a disconcerting wetness between her thighs. She shifted to put her legs closer together.

“Master Z requested I take you on. Did you read the rules for the trainees?”

“Um. Yes.” She caught the hint of ice in his eyes and added a hasty, “Sir.”

He unhooked a set of golden-colored leather cuffs from the back of his belt. After buckling them on her wrists, he carefully checked the fit and then attached her left cuff to a chain dangling from the rafter. “The safe word for the trainees is red,” he said as he reached for another chain and did her right arm. He kept the chains long enough her arms could remain at waist level. “I want for you to use it if you become overwhelmed in any way, from fear, pain…whatever. It will bring the dungeon monitors a-running.”

“If I use a safe word, does that mean everything is off?” She couldn’t afford to blow this.

His face softened. “No, sugar. It means I stop whatever we’re doing and we sit down and chat for a bit.”

“Oh. Okay. Good. Um, Sir.” Can I really see this through? This lethal dom wasn’t anything like the ones she’d played with in the downtown clubs. Fear wavered inside her, and she shoved it away. Mostly.

She saw his gaze on her and realized her fingers were tracing the scar on her cheek. He pulled her hand down and enfolded it in his warm one. “Gabrielle, do you have a problem with bondage you didn’t mention on the application?” he asked.

“No, Sir.” When he didn’t move, she added, “Really. I’m just a little nervous, Sir.”

“All right then.” He walked to the wall, and the chains attached to her wrist cuffs began to tighten, pulling her arms over her head. He stopped before she had to go up on tiptoe.

She tried to be grateful for the small concession, but suddenly she felt…naked. Really naked, much more than when she’d taken off her clothes. Then she’d worried about how she looked. Now…now she felt the intensity of his gaze as he strolled around her again.

“What…what are you going to do?”

“I’m fixin’ to acquaint myself with my new trainee’s body as we have a chat.”

* * * * *

Buy from Loose Id

Read more from Cherise her website: www.CheriseSinclair.com
Dominant Males, Sizzling Tales
Author of Masters of the Shadowlands series

January 3, 2011

A Taste of Scarlet–Coming Soon! by Evanne Lorraine

A Taste of Scarlet releases soon from Loose Id! Just for Some Write It Hot fans here’s an excerpt from chapter one:

With the right players even the most mundane chore takes on new excitement. Scarlet ran to the store for a few essentials and….

On any other night, she would have tucked her dormant tail between her legs and run back through the woods all the way to the safety of the old house. But not tonight. How could she track the whisperer if she was too cowardly even to buy groceries?

Her arm trembled as she reached for the handle. No cringing, she reminded herself firmly. She was on a mission. Wimping out at the first sign of an Alpha wouldn’t cut it. She wasn’t a submissive Beta, and even a flawed Omega did not cower. Besides, she was still in charge, not her inner bitch. Nothing would ever change unless Scarlet took action.

Abruptly she pushed into the store. Grabbing a basket, she scurried toward the dairy section clear in the back.
She spotted the Alpha instantly. Aggression rolled off shoulders big enough to block the coming moonlight. Even in human form, he prowled toward her — a powerful male in his prime, pure lethal poetry in motion, and scary as hell.

As Scarlet fought to hold her ground, she felt her inner wolf hum for the first time in a decade. Her breath caught; she was afraid to breathe, afraid to believe. She’d endured so many treatments, sessions with the visiting Omega, meetings with Alphas to overcome her phobia of the dominant males, but nothing had worked to restore her damaged connection to her inner Omega bitch.

Hope beat wildly at her Omega’s gentle but unmistakable nudge toward the Alpha, infusing Scarlet with badly needed courage. Perhaps the connection wasn’t as damaged as she and the pack had believed. The link responding so soon made her impulsive trip to the mountains seem more like a valid inspiration and less like a desperate chase after myths.

Her wolf’s message came through loud and clear: this Alpha was different. In a good way?

Gradually her heart rate slowed to something almost normal, her knees firmed, and she took a step forward. Alpha or not, her wolf had responded to him, and that was all that mattered.

Suddenly she couldn’t look directly at him. A weird tingling washed over her skin. If she’d been wearing fur, it would have fluffed. In challenge or dare, she wondered. Definitely not in terror, which was freakily strange for her.

Determined and more than a little curious, she braved another step.

As he came closer, she forced herself to meet his gaze. Instantly his dark gray eyes pinned her in place.

She quickly dropped her focus to the floor, quivering with tension, but she didn’t panic. Her inner bitch made a throaty sound of approval. The sudden urge to grovel and show him her throat washed over her, making staying upright a challenge.

When she darted another look, he’d halved the distance separating them. He stopped, glanced down at his hip, and glared at an insistent buzz from his pager. A deep rumble of irritation issued from his throat. The sound was so loud, she could’ve sworn it shook the pyramid display of microwave popcorn on his left.

Once again, she sensed his focus locking on her.

“Stay,” he growled at her. Then he whirled and strode off, disappearing down the soups and spices aisle.

Read more about my dangerously sexy stories at Evanne Lorraine

December 10, 2010

Sex, Sin and Surf by Lauren Fraser

Available today from Ellora’s Cave. Sex, Sin and Surf by Lauren Fraser

Blurb

Holidays are all about relaxation. And what better way to relax than with a hot holiday fling?

On vacation in Mexico with her two best friends, forty-one-year-old Celeste Kopp vows to break out of her middle-aged rut and live life to the fullest. Taking surf lessons is on the top of her to do list. However, when she meets sexy surf instructor Ben, the idea of a holiday fling with a younger man becomes the only thing on her list.

Ben is more than willing to live out Celeste’s fantasies as well as a few of his own. But their holiday romance turns out to be more than either of them bargained for when the connection between them deepens. Being with Celeste forces Ben to deal with his own baggage in a way he never expected.

As the vacation draws to a close, Celeste realizes she wants so much more from Ben than a holiday fling, but can she convince him that their future together is worth the risk?

Excerpt

“I don’t think you should kick his ass,” he told her. His husky, lightly accented voice slid over her body, caressing her with its sexy cadence.

Surfer god stepped around the counter and shot the kid a fierce look before he eased the boy out of the way. “Sorry about him. What can I help you with? You ladies interested in learning to surf?”

“Well…” Nancy grumbled.

“Which is easier to learn, surfing or paddle boarding?” Celeste asked before her friends could change their minds.

“That depends really. A lot of people find the paddleboard a bit easier because they have something to hold onto for balance.”

Celeste stared at him, unable to speak. His English was flawless, with almost an American rhythm to it, but everything about his body language said Latin American.

Realizing she was staring at him like an idiot, she smiled. “Okay, well maybe we’ll start with that.”

She turned to glance at her friends. Focused on the surf god in front of them, it hadn’t registered on the two women that Celeste had turned around. Celeste bit back a laugh. God, they were like a bunch of dirty old ladies ogling the man. He was just a baby, probably not much older than his early twenties. “Any chance you guys have lessons or something since we’ve never done this before?”

“We can certainly help you out. When did you want to go out?”

“Tomorrow sometime?”

He pulled out a day-planner from under the counter and flipped it open to the next day. “Do you have a preference if your instructor is a male or a female?”

Hell, if they were going to humiliate themselves, they could at least enjoy the view while they did so. Celeste rested her elbows on the counter. “Any chance you could give us a lesson?”

She couldn’t be sure which one of her friends gasped. But if forced to guess, odds were the outraged noise had to have come from Nancy. Screw it. This was her holiday, and she was going to enjoy it

His gaze flickered over her shoulder, amusement lingered in his eyes before he turned his attention back to Celeste. The look on his face quickly changed, a slow sexy smile eased across his face. He rested his elbows on the counter, his face inches from hers. “I could probably teach you a few things tomorrow afternoon.”

Her nipples beaded tightly beneath her bathing suit. Without breaking eye contact, she licked her lips. “That sounds perfect. What time works for you?”

A strong nudge to her hip forced her to look away from the man and toward her friends. Nancy glared down at her. Celeste wrinkled her eyebrows and mouthed, “What?” Nancy’s jaw clenched tightly as she stared back at her. Clearly, Nancy wasn’t on board with the whole relaxation and trying something new experience yet. Rolling her eyes, Celeste stood up. “Right, so what time tomorrow for our lesson?”

He laughed. “You’re on vacation, ladies, Mexican time. We’re a little more relaxed here on the beach. Do you plan to take a siesta during the day?”

“Not that I know of.”

“All right, well, the waves are pretty tame mid-day so why don’t you come down after you finish your lunch, maybe around one p.m.? I’ll take you out then.”

Nancy stepped closer to the counter and asked, “So our appointment is for one p.m.?”

Surfer god laughed. “Around then, yes.”

Nancy growled, which made Celeste and Sarah laugh until she turned her glaring stare to them. Celeste coughed to cover her amusement. “Sorry, Nance. Tomorrow around one-ish works just fine for us.”

“But…” Nancy stammered. Not giving her a chance to speak, Sarah pushed Nancy toward the door of the shop.

“What’s your name?” Surfer god asked.

“Celeste.”

He grinned and wrote her name in the book. “Celeste. I’ll see you tomorrow.” He nodded his head toward her friends. “Your friend needs to have a couple more margaritas to get her in the holiday spirit.”

Celeste laughed. “She already did.”

He snorted and shook his head. “I’m Ben by the way.” He grabbed a business card from the counter. “Call if you need to make any changes to the lessons.”

“Oh, I won’t.”

“I didn’t think you would, but I imagine your friends might.”

“Nope, they’ll be here too.”

“All right then, I will see all three of you tomorrow.”

“Great, sounds good,” Celeste said. Turning, she herded her friends toward the entrance.

Celeste walked by a rack of t-shirts and glanced back. Ben was watching her ass as she left. She turned back around, a smile on her face. She still had it. She added a little extra sway to her hips as she left the store.

Once she stepped onto the beach, she kicked off her shoes and strolled down to the water. Her friends immediately joined her. “What were you thinking flirting with that guy?” Nancy demanded.

“What do you mean? I thought we were on holidays. Weren’t you the one who said a little holiday romance would be good for me?”

“I did, but he’s so young.”

“He might be young, but he sure seemed interested in Celeste,” Sarah piped in. “And damn, if a man who looked like that even glanced my way, I would be all over him in a heartbeat.”

Celeste glanced back over her shoulder to the shop. “He was damn sexy, wasn’t he? Mmm.”

Nancy shook her head. “Just don’t make a fool of yourself.”

“Oh relax, Mom, I’m not going to do anything stupid.”

Sarah hip bumped Nancy. “Drop it, let’s just move on. We’re here to relax and have fun. Think of it like Vegas. What happens in Sayulita stays in Sayulita.”

“Sounds good to me,” Celeste said. “Let’s go explore the beach.”

A shell caught her eye and she bent down to pick it up. Celeste trailed her finger over the beautiful pink swirls before sticking the shell in her purse. Glancing down the beach, she spotted a cute little restaurant.

“Let’s get some drinks,” she said to her friends and plopped down onto a lounge chair in front of one of the many beachfront restaurants. This holiday was all about relaxation and enjoyment and if she stood a chance with Ben, she planned to make the most of it.

Buy Link

See what else Lauren has going on at Lauren Fraser

December 6, 2010

Sunday Awakening by KevaD

Filed under: New Release — dangerouslysexy @ 04:00
Tags: , , ,

Blurb

If the microwave hadn’t blown a fuse, she might not have killed him. But it had, and she did. Sundays are like that sometimes.

After stabbing her keeper to escape his abuse and her sex slave life, Cheryl faces the greatest decision of her twenty-six years: “Now what?” Only one thing has ever brought her comfort and a sense of freedom – – running. So she does.

On her journey to discover who she is, and where she came from, Cheryl happens upon a woman who puts her onboard the modern-day Underground Railroad for abused women.

At each stop, each ‘depot,’ she encounters people who teach her love may not just exist in novels. But is love possible for someone who doesn’t know what it is?

Criminal Investigator Taylor Hughes reluctantly agrees to locate Cheryl and find her “home.” When Cheryl poisons him, Taylor realizes the hardest part of the trip may well be the day he has to leave her behind.

Excerpt

She stripped the bed and tossed the old sheets into the parking lot. A creak of faucet handles preceded the spray of water in the shower. After unfolding and shaking out the new sheets, she listened intently to the muted noise in the bathroom. The walls were tissue paper thin. The beat of the water on the porcelain of the tub stalled when he stepped under it. He was naked.

The image of his sweaty body running beside her – lying beside her, refused to fade. She tucked the edges of the bottom sheet under the sagging mattress and slowly smoothed it with an open palm. The musical resonance of lathering soap floated about the room. There were no washcloths in there. The two Stockard gave her were on the side table. Taylor’s hands were the bow playing the muscled instrument of his body.
Lying on the bed, a hand slipped beneath her shirt, then, massaged sweat-oiled skin under the waistband of her jeans while she continued to listen. Behind closed eyes she watched him scrub from his wonderfully broad chest to the hard slab of belly.

She traced a line from waist to breasts. Barely a B, they had swollen at the sound of him, at the nakedness of him, so near. The tips were erect and over-sensitive.

Heat pulsed beneath her skin. Her tongue wetted dry lips at the thought of his sinewy body so near, so out of reach, yet, reachable, if she chose him to be.

Continuing to explore her body, visions of his strong hands sliding over his manly form under the water and froth performed a mental ballet. A throaty gasp erupted at the slapping of his hands lathering the soap again. Fingers drove under her jeans, then beneath her panties. The basin of the triangle between her thighs thickened with moisture. She wanted this man. The ball of passion rolling from her throat to her groin demanded him.

Fingertips massaged the center of her desire. Hips writhed in response.

She jerked her hand out of her clothing and stood. Her decisions were her own now, and she had met a man she wanted. A smile formed. It hadn’t happened before. There was a man in this motel room she desired. She wanted Taylor Hughes in her, on her, and every way he wanted to have her. He might be gone tomorrow, and this opportunity with him, once he learned the truth. There might only ever be this one night to know what it felt like to make… love… if such a thing held possibility for her.

If it did, she wanted him to be her first. And she wanted him now.

He debated where he’d be sleeping while he washed. She was only feet away on the other side of the wall, and he was having trouble keeping his loins from expressing their wanting for her.

He turned the hot water off. The heat of his skin immunized him to the cold. He couldn’t begin to explain why he felt a hunger for this woman he had just met. It didn’t make any sense at all. Every logical part of his brain said this was wrong.

She needed his help, not his complications. There were things going on inside her he couldn’t fathom, and his mounting longing to taste her might only serve to push her further from herself.

He couldn’t stay in this room tonight. Maybe he’d just sleep in the Jeep.

The clink of the shower curtain rings spun him around. His brain funneled every thought to one—she was the most beautiful and sensuous woman he had ever seen.

“Cheryl, no. I can’t…” His body throbbed its betrayal of his words. A finger to his lips silenced the objection.

She stepped into the tub. “This isn’t about what you want.”

Buy your copy of Sunday Awakening here

October 26, 2010

Master of the Abyss by Cherise Sinclair

Filed under: New Release — dangerouslysexy @ 04:00
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Blurb:

On the mountain, the watcher seeks out evil women. And then they die.

Two years ago, when Jake Hunt uncollared his slave, she committed suicide. Guilt-ridden, he will commit to a woman for one night only, devoting his energy to a mountain lodge that caters to a BDSM crowd.

Kallie Masterson is tough. Unwanted as a child, she worked hard to become a wilderness guide. She’s proud of who she is, and hurt that Jake frowns on her for acting like a man.

After rescuing the macho guide from a bar fight, Jake is stunned that the ugly men’s clothing hides a warm, responsive woman. A submissive woman. When guide business brings her to the lodge on BDSM night, and she is obviously aroused by the play, Jake takes the little sub right into his world of pain and pleasure. He warns her: one night only. But she responds so beautifully — so joyously — under his command, that one night soon becomes two, then three…

Then a missing hiker reminds Jake of his past lover, and he realizes he’s become too involved. He pulls back.

Meanwhile, the watcher on the mountain has rendered his verdict: Kallie Masterson is evil. The sentence: Death.

Excerpt:

“Uh.” Kallie’s face heated. Why couldn’t those floorboards crack open and let her disappear? Where was a good earthquake when you needed one? How much had he heard?

“Yes, Kallie, you do resemble her,” he said in an even tone. He’d definitely caught Simon’s comment. Her face was probably red enough to light the room.

“Oh. Well.” I look like an old girlfriend. Reassuring at first, then rather uncomfortable.

He set his foot on the couch beside her hip and leaned forward, his forearms braced on his knee, studying her until she had to force herself not to squirm. His masculine scent had the tang of a high mountain forest, clean and compelling, but he was intimidatingly close. She edged back against the couch cushions, realizing that after flinging her to the wolves, to Jake, Simon had abandoned her without a word. Her heart thudded inside her chest, more loudly than any spanking or whipping going on.

“I had planned to leave you alone,” he said, half under his breath.

Well, that hurt. “Then go.” She made a shooing motion with her fingers.

“But then you planted yourself in here. Asked questions.”

“I won’t ask any more.” If her heart would only slow down, she’d be able to think. “I don’t want to know anything at all about you or your girlfriend, okay?”

“She was also my submissive,” he said, his voice deep. Rough as a talus slope and as dangerous. “I was her master. Do you know what that means, sprite?”

Mouth too dry to answer, Kallie shook her head. Master?

He stroked one finger along her jaw, slowly enough that she could feel the warmth, the uneven skin of a man who worked with his hands. The strength. “I like the way you heat under my touch,” he murmured, then looked Kallie right in the eyes. “It means she did what I ordered her to do. Always. If I told her to strip and bend over the bed so I could take her from behind, that’s what she did.”

She could feel how his hands would hold her in place, his cock hard between her legs, demanding entry and… The air had completely disappeared from the room.

He gripped her chin, keeping her head tilted up, revealing her face. “I could tell her to lie on the bed with her legs spread, and no matter what I did, no matter how long, she wasn’t allowed to come.”

Kallie felt a burn start in her nether regions. And couldn’t help wondering what he had done. How had he touched her?

His eyes crinkled, and he rubbed his knuckles over her cheek. “You’re flushed, little Kallie.”

“I…” She put up a hand to push his away.

“Don’t. Move.” The command swept over her like a strong gale bending the trees in its path, pinning her into stillness. Her body froze…and yet grew even more sensitive. Awake. In fact, she’d never felt like this before…and he’d not even done anything.

He chuckled. “Little submissive.” With both hands, he grasped the front of her shirt and pulled her to her feet. “Simon was right. You do want to play.” It wasn’t a question.

Her heart pounding, her eyes captured by his, she tried to back away, shaking her head. “No. No, really.”

“Don’t lie to me, Kallie,” he said ever so softly, yet all the spit in her mouth dried up.

She averted her gaze and tried to think. She’d wanted him since the first time she saw him. Now she might have him. But here? How brave was she?

She’d never deliberately done anything really outrageous in her whole life, always tried to fit in and not rock the boat. But right now she wanted to swamp the boat completely. If she did some “you know” with Jake this one time, her cousins would never find out. Her lips curved up. And my dreams will be very interesting. God, yes, I want to try it. But when she looked back at him, at his level gaze, the words stuck in her throat, and she managed only a firm nod.

“Good enough.” His sky blue eyes darkened as if storm clouds had rolled in. “We’re playing together only this one time. Only tonight.”

“I know.” Jake Hunt’s infamous “one night only” rule. With the women he dated, months would go by before he’d call again, and everyone knew he wanted physical intimacy without emotional commitment. But at least he didn’t try to lie about it like some guys. She could handle it. “Not a problem.”

He studied her for a long moment, as if to judge her sincerity. “All right then.” One corner of his mouth turned up, his dark five-o’clock shadow making the half smile look dangerous. “Let’s start with this.” He grasped her country-western shirt, and the snaps spatted like gunfire as he yanked it open.

“Hey!” The air brushed against her hot skin, and she grabbed at the shirtfront.

“Leave it open, sprite. Happens that I like skin.” His devastating grin flashed, halting every single protest. Why did he have to be so gorgeous? “Now let’s find out what you like.” He turned, pulling her in front of him so that her back rested against his chest.

Kallie gulped when she realized he’d turned her to face the woman on the coffee table.

The redhead was still restrained, stomach down. One of the dom’s hands was between her legs, his fingers obviously inside her, thrusting in and out. With his other hand, he alternated swats on her butt cheeks. Hips bucking, she pulled against the restraints.

Kallie’s heart started to pound. She could almost feel the fingers pressing inside her, the stinging of the spanking, and she shook her head. This was way too…too…something. She tried to turn away.

Jake clamped his arm around her waist, an iron bar holding her pinned against him. “Watch, Kallie.” His warm breath brushed her ear.

The woman’s voice kept getting higher — “Oh, Sir. Oh, oh, oh.” — until she climaxed with a scream, her head back and spine arching.

Kallie realized she was panting, and heat pulsed through her with every inhalation. “Let me go.” Her voice came out husky.

“Nope.” He closed his teeth on the muscle between her shoulder and neck, and she gasped as electricity streaked to her groin.

“You’re just full of surprises,” Jake murmured.

No, he was the surprising one. Despite her hot, erotic dreams of him, she’d figured he’d never see her as a woman. He didn’t like her — he hadn’t liked her –so why had he changed his mind? Worry niggled in her stomach like hungry lake trout. “I’m not your old girlfriend.”

“Uh-huh,” he said, his voice a deep, warm rumble in her ear. He splayed his hand, hot and hard, against her bare stomach.

Every bone in her body dissolved.

But did he understand what she was saying? She tried again. “I’m not her.” And I don’t want to be a substitute for some old girlfriend.

He huffed a laugh. “You sure don’t have her personality.”

That didn’t sound like a compliment.

“Don’t worry. I know you’re Kallie ‘Macho’ Masterson.”

Despite the insulting term, warmth bloomed in her. He had actually, finally, seen her.

He slid his hand beneath her jeans waistband until his fingers rested at the top of her mound, and as with a match held to dry grass, flames erupted inside her. He pressed her back against him, and she could feel the bulge of his erection. Hard. He wanted her. Pleasure warmed her heart. He really did.

Her breath caught as his other hand slid under her bra, settling right over her breast. Her very small breast. She stiffened and tried to pull away, expecting the usual stupid guy’s comment: “Why do you bother with a bra?”

Instead he tightened his arms. “Don’t move, sub.”

The firm command sent heat streaking across her skin. She tried to move — couldn’t — and with the feeling of being immobilized came the realization that he could do…anything. Her insides melted into warm liquid.

He chuckled and bit her earlobe. The sharp, unexpected pain sheared straight to her pussy, and a moan escaped her.

“I think I’ll enjoy tonight after all,” he murmured. “So, short stuff, have you tried anything like this before?”

She barely kept from rubbing against him like a cat. Touch me. Why did he keep talking? Asking a question she didn’t want to answer. But his expectant silence forced a reply. “A few times. But I never liked it.” She’d known this was too good to be true. Be fair to him, Kallie. She added reluctantly, “I’m not submissive or anything, so it’s okay if you find someone else.”

“Sure you’re not.” He slid his hand another inch, one finger on each side of her labia. So close to her clit that she had trouble paying attention to anything but the throbbing bundle of nerves.

“Tell me about those times. What did you do?”

Her brain didn’t want to work. “I… One wanted to handcuff me to the bed, and I wouldn’t let him…although it had sounded exciting at first. Another tried to spank me, and I couldn’t stop giggling.” What else? “Um, pretty much that kind of stuff.”

“Uh-huh. Sounds like no trust and no true submission.” He turned her around.

The removal of his warm hands left behind cold places on her skin, and she ached down below like she’d wrenched something in a place where things didn’t get sprained. He’ll tell me to go home now; I should have lied.

He closed his hands on her shoulders. “How much do you trust me, Kallie?”

The question was unexpected, and she had to shift directions. Want, yes. But trust? “I –”

“Let me rephrase that. Can you trust me in here, surrounded by other people, to restrain you, spank you, and give you pleasure?”

Her mouth went dry. The thought of him — Jake — his hands on her, tying her, touching her… She frowned. But spanking?

His eyes crinkled. “You wear your emotions right out there on your face, don’t you, sugar?”

She thought of the dom and his sub, how he’d brought her to climax with his fingers. “Does pleasure mean us both or just me?”

“Well, now” — he slowly stroked his finger down her cheek, his gaze intent on her face — “I figured on just you, using my hands.”

The words welled up like a balloon expanding in her chest. “I want more; I want you in –” Couldn’t say it; just couldn’t… “Um.”

“You want my cock inside you. Is that what you mean?”

Run over and buy your copy of Master of the Abyss

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