Here we are again with Snippet Saturday and Author’s Choice. I have several to choose from, several to tease you with, it’s just figuring out which one I want to use. Decisions, decisions.
I’ve also been writing all day which is why I’m so late posting this. Sorry ’bout that.
I think we’ll go with a book few of you have read… 😉 It was a fun story, very hot and full of smuttiness and sex. It was the first book I wrote that was accepted at Ellora’s Cave and I fell in love with the cover at first glance.
The fire raged out of control. Angel stood off to the side, blending into the gathered crowd, and admired her handiwork. The damn man hadn’t been worth her damn time. He had been nothing but a waste of an orgasm. She should have known better. She should always know better, and wondered when it was going to sink in finally that there was no human who could satisfy her needs and cravings. If her brother hadn’t forbidden every male demon from mating with her, she wouldn’t have to settle for less-than-stellar encounters. This human’s life was certainly going to look a little bleaker when he came home and found his house reduced to a pile of ashes, his bank account empty, and his boat sailing off to destinations unknown with a couple of women, looking to escape bastards like him, at the helm. She sighed. It really sucked that she couldn’t kill the ones who made her miserable, like her brother and the other demons could. Without that quality, she could only torture them, tempt them to destruction, and destroy or relocate their most prized possessions.
Men were such a pain in the ass, and not the good, pleasurable kind either. The women she’d come across hadn’t been much better, but then who could blame them? She’d enjoyed both men and women as lovers but it was all always empty in the end. They always wanted more, wanted things, wanted material things that didn’t matter, and she hated them for it. They were full of greed, always coveting what someone else had.
Demons were wasted on them, honestly. Humans could and did and would continue to destroy themselves without any outward help.
But as long as the demons were around, and since she was part demon, she’d help. She loved being bad, demonic, full of fire. She knew the dangers of drowning the angel inside. She couldn’t seem to help it though, couldn’t seem to give a shit. She wasn’t going to find what she wanted, what she craved with a human, a fact she’d long ago accepted, so what other choice did she have?
She turned away and crossed the street. Jumping in her little black car, she sped off with the radio blaring, passing the fire engines on their way to what’s-his-name’s house.
Her cell vibrated against her hip and she had the fleeting thought that if she’d placed it in her pocket, she might be having a pleasant thrill right about then. Damn hindsight and all. She would have to remember that.
Taking it out and seeing her brother’s number on the screen, she debated answering and finally decided against it. He knew what she’d done just as he always did, and she just didn’t want to hear it.
You’re killing him.
It was true too. Every time she blew something up, lost her temper and started a firestorm, or just instigated general mayhem, he knew and called to admonish her, to remind her… She didn’t need reminding. Riko had drilled it into her all her life. She was the one who could bring balance and she was tired of hearing about it. The demons would find another way to survive. They would have to.
As she pulled into her driveway, she could see the smoke over the tops of the trees at the back of her house. It would be a while before the good men of the fire department were able to put it out completely, and she tried not to think about what one of them or all them would look like naked afterward, showering away the soot and ash and sweat. Should she chance a stop by the station house to offer her services? The wicked thought made her grin.
“That your handiwork?”
Angel spun her head around at the voice. A man, a very average-looking man, was walking up her driveway. She looked him up and down with blatant hunger, mirroring the same look in his bright blue eyes. He was a walking cream dream in hip-hugging threadbare jeans and a T-shirt that outlined every muscle in his upper body. Okay, well, maybe not quite so average after all. He certainly made her panties wet. She flung the car door open and stepped out, slamming it shut, irritated that she was horny. Again. “Yes. How did you know?”
“My brother sent you? Why? Who are you?”
“Honestly? He wants me to fuck you, tame you, and get this…love you. And the name is Delan.”
Angel laughed out loud and in his face. Tame her? Love her? Was he serious? The fuck-her part she was good with, very, very good with. “Riko said all that?”
“Yes.” He took a step toward her. “Interested?” The last word, spoken softly, almost with a growl, had Angel feeling it right between her legs.
Yes. Oh hell yes! We are interested. Tell him we’re interested. “No. I’m not.” She turned on her heel, flipping long, dark red waves over her shoulder, sure to catch him in the face with the black-tipped ends, and started to walk away. His hand gripped some of the strands in a fist, stopping her flight and pulling her forcefully back against the solid wall of his chest. The hard cock pressed against her own denim-covered ass filled her with images of bending forward to take him in each hole.
On the one hand, she was outraged at his audacity to manhandle her like that. On the other hand, she wanted him inside her, leaning up against her car, not caring one bit if the neighbors watched or the paint got scratched.
Besides, her brother had gone to all the trouble to send him, she might as well take him for a test drive.
His lips were against her ear, rasping along the edges. “I wasn’t done talking to you.”
Two could play this game. Angel rubbed herself against him like a cat in heat. “Why do we need to talk? That’s not what you were sent here for.”
The fist loosened and his hand slid around the back of her neck to her throat, then up, until one finger slid between her willing, open lips. “No, you’re right, it wasn’t. Let’s go. Unless you’d rather do it out here in the driveway.”
I need to get back to writing so, while I do that, hopefully you’ll enjoy snippets from the following authors…
Megan Hart:Read in bed!
Mandy M Roth
Have a great weekend…
Love scenes. It’s a critical part of the romance genre. There are the sexual love scenes but there are also emotional loves scenes. At times, I prefer the emotional over the sexual. Getting through the pain to the other side, when you can feel the love the characters have for one another practically leaping off the page and curling up inside you. I read a book the other night that had a moment like that… There was no sex, no nakedness save for the naked emotion. These are sometimes so powerful…
I aspire to write scenes, emotional love scenes that make the heart clench and the belly flutter.
Warning: Explicit sex scene…
She got out of the car and walked up the dusty drive to the bottom step of his front porch. He’d known she would come eventually. She’d taken her own sweet time about it, however, and he couldn’t say he was happy about having been kept waiting. He was tired of living with this need inside when there was an answer, a cure. Albeit a stubborn one.
She had the prettiest, softest voice and she was a better woman than a man like him deserved. Didn’t mean he was willing to give up the chance to have her though. He was country, she was city and he was the last man on earth she should be with. He was her brother-in-law, she was his dead brother’s wife. They couldn’t do this, shouldn’t do this. They couldn’t be, shouldn’t be together and there were a million reasons why, but he’d be damned if he’d turn her away. Neither of them could deny the feelings. Not when his whole family had known for years, not when his brother lay in the dirt in his arms, telling him it was okay that he love her. He needed more than the absolution of his twin, more than any church could ever give him, but he’d take her, take her body and live with her contempt after.
“You said if I ever came back through this way, I should stop by.”
She must have been visiting his parents or sister. There was no other reason for her to be in this neck of the woods. “Yes, I did.” He’d said it out of courtesy, fully expecting she wouldn’t, always hoping, knowing deep down she would.
She took one step up then another until she was standing just to the side of him, looking down as he swung back and forth slowly in the double porch swing. Her petite, full-figured body was covered in a pretty yellow and white knee-length sundress. Her feet were clad in a pair of yellow strappy sandals and her toes were painted a bright shade of purple.
Jethro liked looking at her. Always had. She had the deepest green eyes he’d ever seen and the truest strawberry blonde hair that hung down her back in one long sheet unless she had it pulled up in a ponytail like she did today. She had an all-knowing look about her, even though she was soft-spoken and hesitant in her approach toward him.
“Did I come at a bad time?”
“Nope.” He raised his gaze to her chest, to the little nipples poking through the thin cotton of her dress. “You wearing a bra under that thing?”
“Sort of. The dress has the wires and cups sewn in because it’s backless.”
She was every fantasy he’d had for the last ten years. “Uh-huh. Panties?”
She blushed so pretty. “Yes.”
“Take ‘em off.”
“You heard me. Take ‘em off.”
“What are you doing out here, Caitlyn? I told you what would happen if you came back. I told you I’d fuck you and that if you showed up, I would take it to mean that’s what you want too. I told you to come by if you wanted it, otherwise to stay the hell away. You’re here, so take off the panties. I won’t say it again.”
Awareness dawned. “But… Out here?”
He nodded. “Out here. Not as if anyone’s around but us.”
She didn’t move right away and Jethro was content to wait until she was ready. He wasn’t in any hurry at the moment. He would be once he got inside her for the first time, but not yet.
She finally pulled the skirt of her dress up her thighs until she could reach under and tug her panties down. He saw them as they slid down her over her knees and landed at her feet, a bright yellow piece of lace pooled on top of her sandals. She stepped out of them and looked expectantly at him again.
“Good girl, Caitlyn.” He stopped swinging and focused on her face as he lifted his hips off the wooden bench and unfastened his jeans. He liked how her eyes widened when he pulled his cock out, all hard and angry purplish-red. He shucked his t-shirt and tossed it at her feet in the direction of her panties. “Climb on.”
“Just like that?”
She was stalling. He wasn’t going to give her the option of walking away, of giving her an out, of making it easy for her. “Yes.”
“Will it hold us both?” She looked skeptical, as though she wasn’t sure it would. He fought the urge to smile. Of course it would hold them. He’d built it, hung it, sat on it almost every night jacking off while thinking of her.
“Yes. Climb on.” He held out his hand to her, and when she took it, he tugged her down over his thighs. The skirt of her dress rode up her legs and he liked the sight of the creamy-white skin against the dark blue denim of his jeans.
With his hand on her lower back and his fingers just brushing the top of her ass, he pulled her close, closer still until she could slide down on his cock. Her pussy was wet, easing the penetration into her body.
“Didn’t know you’d be so tight.”
“It’s been a long, long time.” Her hands gripped his shoulders as she tested the length and breadth of him, lifting up then dropping back down. “Didn’t know you’d be so big.”
Jethro laughed and nipped her shoulder. “Don’t know why not. I’m a big man.”
He took her mouth in a hard kiss, tasting, not for the first time, the sweet temptation of the big city girl she’d tried to become. She kept him up at night, thoughts of her keeping his mind charged and his dick hard. He bit her tongue and tried to swallow her whole. And then…he started them swinging.
Just a small motion, front then back…front then back, the straightening and bending of his legs sending his cock deeper inside her. Her small nails dug into his skin and she wobbled slightly. “That’s my girl. Hold on for the ride.”
“Feels so good.”
He kissed her neck and held her tighter, using his teeth to mark her. “Yes it does,” he said, licking at the redness left from the sucking of his mouth.
She moaned into his hair, moaned into his shoulder, moaned against his lips when he picked up speed in the swing. His boots came up off the floor when they swung forward and pushed her into him. When they swung backward, her head dropped back and her dressed pulled tight over her tits.
The swing hadn’t been built for this purpose, but after this afternoon, he wouldn’t be able to look at it any other way. It was always going to be theirs now. Whether she came back or not, the swing was theirs, sacred.
He pulled her hair from the ponytail and sifted his fingers through the strands. It fell down her back in a fall of red, and when she arched, dropping her head back farther, the ends brushed his thighs. If he were naked, it would be an amazing erotic touch.
The dress was, as she’d said, backless and his fingertips drew circles on her skin. Her nipples stood out against the thin material and he slipped his hands under the straps, gently tugging them down her over her shoulders, exposing just the upper swells. It wasn’t enough, but at the same time it was very sexy seeing her like that.
She was the one woman he shouldn’t want and the one woman he was bound and determined to have.
He buried his face in her chest, licked at the salt and sweat in the valley between her breasts. Her arms wrapped around his shoulders and she rocked her pelvis in tight, short motions. She fucked herself on him as he held her against his body, as he used the movement of the swing to propel them back and forth.
“We shouldn’t be doing this.”
“But we are.”
“I won’t come back.”
“Damn you, Jethro.”
“Yes, Caitlyn. I know.”
He felt her tears on his neck and her body shuddered in orgasm. Her muscles pulled and pulsed over his cock and he still rocked them, still screwed her until his own come shot into her, matching her throb for throb. And that’s what this was. A screwing, a fucking. It wasn’t soft and sweet. It wasn’t tender, even though he had the most tender feelings toward her. He couldn’t stop wanting her. No matter how many times he saw her, talked to her, fought with her, he couldn’t stop wanting her.
She was right in damning him. He was damned the moment they met. He was damned when she walked down the aisle to marry his brother. He was damned the day his brother was put in the ground. He’d been damned for years and would remain so. He coveted his brother’s wife, the one woman in the world he shouldn’t want but couldn’t live without having.
He held her for a long time until her breathing calmed and she lifted her head.
“We can’t be together.”
She was wrong. “I know.”
“And I mean it, this can’t happen again. This won’t happen again.”
“Stop being so fucking agreeable.” She pushed against his chest and scrambled off his lap. She righted her dress and backed away.
He knew the come would slide down her thighs. He’d used no protection and she’d asked for none. They both knew he couldn’t get her pregnant. “What do you want me to be? Angry? Sad? What, Caitlyn? What do you want me to be?”
“I want you to feel the same turmoil that I do, Jethro. I want you to hurt as much as I do.”
“How do you know I don’t?”
“Because you…you’re so distant, so callous, so in control.”
He stopped the swing and stood. His leg pained him today and had for the last week. It always did around this time of year moreso than at other times. It was the second anniversary of the day he’d pulled Marcus out of the upside-down Humvee. It was the day his brother died from war wounds. It was the day he let himself hope Caitlyn could finally belong to him. He hated himself sometimes for wanting her so much, but more than he hated himself, he loved her.
He took one step then another and another until he had her backed up against a post on the porch. “He was my twin. He was every other thought in my head. He was the one person I loved more than anything in this life besides you. He was the last of my family. He was your husband.”
Jethro kissed the corner of her quivering mouth and licked softly at the tear streaming down her cheek. “I do feel pain, every day. I have the physical scars to prove it. I have the nightmares that wake me up in the middle of the night. I have… Caitlyn, I have the broken heart beating inside my chest. I do feel pain. I do hurt. And fucking you today on that swing I made for us to share was the best and worst mistake.”
He pulled her bottom lip in between his teeth and tugged, sucked. He took her mouth in a scorching, searing kiss as he held her captive between his body and the wood at her back. He could drown in her taste, and one day he’d have his face buried between her thighs, drowning in her creamy, hot cunt.
“I have to leave.”
“Yes, you do. You have to keep running away from this. You have to keep being the strong one, the one able to resist.”
“You bastard. Be a man. Don’t let me go.”
She was crying harder now, beating on his chest with her fists, and he let her. He let her take it all out on him because he didn’t know what else to do. This time he was the one held captive. She had him pinned against the front wall of the house, her mouth devouring his, her tongue so, so deep in his mouth. The moment he started to wrap his arms around her though, she broke free and ran out to her car.
She drove off, spinning her tires. He watched after her until the dust settled then fastened his jeans back. He started to sit on the swing again, but instead went inside the cool, dark house.
Unless he had her, nothing would make much sense. She didn’t seem to understand that he didn’t let her go as she accused him of doing. She chose to leave. She chose to run just as he’d told her she had to keep doing.
Nothing would bring Marc back. Nothing would stop Jethro from loving his brother’s widow. Nothing would ever feel right without her now that he’d had her.
He glared at the dozen or so beer bottles inside the fridge then slammed the door. It wasn’t alcohol he wanted to drink. He wanted to drink from Caitlyn, from her mouth, from her cunt. Instead of beer, instead of Caitlyn, he went back outside, this time out the back door toward to woodshed. He’d work himself into exhaustion, just as he’d done nearly every day for the last year and a half. Between the sex and the woodworking, maybe he could sleep one full night without seeing things he couldn’t have anymore.
It was then he remembered the small scrap of yellow lace still lying in the same place she’d nudged them to when she took them off. Shit.
I love this book, this story, these two characters…
Please take some time to visit the following blogs for more love scenes:
Megan Hart:Read in bed!
Mandy M Roth
Have a great weekend!
Emotion. It’s something some of us experience deeply and something some of us bury so deep… Some of us want to feel everything and some of us don’t want to feel anything. Emotion encompasses, good and bad, love and pain, hurt and anger, sadness and joy, boredom and excitement.
But when we think of emotional scenes in books, we often picture the deepfelt, heart wrenching scenes of love or hurt.
I know for me, Cheryl Holt and Lisa Kleypas are amazing at these kinds of emotional scenes. There’s a scene in Lisa Kleypas’ Suddenly You that breaks my heart every time I read it and it’s one book that the pages are worn thin from so much re-reading. The same for nearly any of Cheryl Holt’s books. The sex in her books isn’t scorching, but the emotion to me has been WOW…
That’s one of the things I want to learn to create in my books. That soul searing emotion, the kind that grips your gut and twists and holds tight and makes you feel it…
Caroline watched out the driver’s side mirror as Buck walked around the back of the trailer. He was checking the locks one more time to make sure they were secure. She was tired, and her eyes were gritty. She’d cried some before she went to sleep then cried again when he made love to her early this morning.
She was a damn basket case, worse than she ever figured she’d be. But Buck was solid. His lip hadn’t even quivered. He didn’t tell her not to go. He didn’t ask to come with her. He didn’t even say he’d call, write or send up a flare.
He didn’t want things to end either, though. It was in the way he touched her, the way he kissed her, the way he looked at her when he thought she didn’t know. They were both grownups. They could do this. People moved and separated all the time even when they cared for one another. And…if she kept telling herself that, she might actually start to believe it by the time she reached Atlanta.
“Everything looks good. Got the keys?”
He stood at the window. She wanted to reach out and touch him but didn’t dare. “Yeah. In my pocket.”
“Okay then, I’d say you’re all set. Take care with the turns.”
They’d had this discussion before that she’d never towed anything on the back of a vehicle. “I will. I’ll be fine, Buck.”
“I know you will. I would say call me when you get there…”
“I don’t know if I can.”
He nodded. She knew he understood and that it didn’t make things any easier. “Be careful.”
It was her turn to nod as she cranked her Jeep and put it in drive. It was awkward, this feeling of something being unfinished. She wasn’t used to it and didn’t like it. Not one bit. There was more to say, more to do, oh hell lots more to do, but…
“You need to get on the road. You don’t want to hit Atlanta anytime between now and eight tonight.”
He was trying to make a joke, and she did manage a smile that didn’t seem forced. Not to mention, Atlanta was hell on traffic. She dreaded going up I-75 anywhere near the large city. Come to think of it, I-75 sucked no matter if you were near Tampa or Valdosta or Atlanta. There was construction at every mile marker it seemed and dumbass drivers that didn’t know they weren’t supposed to brake on the interstate. Hence, the lack of traffic lights and stop signs.
Thank you was on the tip of her tongue, but it wasn’t enough to convey what he’d brought to her life in the months she’d known him. He saved her from that too with his next words.
“It’s okay, Caroline. Nothing needs to be said.”
He stepped back and hooked his thumbs in his waistband. She drove out of the driveway and turned at the street just as she had for the last twenty years. Only difference was she wouldn’t be coming back. On the upside, she was getting exactly what she’d wanted all along after her divorce. On the downside, she’d met Buck in the midst of it all and the large stone sitting in the middle of her chest making it hard to breathe reminded her of something more she wanted but hadn’t dared hope for. A second chance at love, kinky love, hot and delicious in blue jeans.
Her heart skipped a beat when her cell phone rang. It wasn’t him.
Now, it’s time for you to hop around on this Easter weekend to the following blogs for more emotional scenes and snippets.
Megan Hart:Read in bed!
Mandy M Roth
Have a great day!
Choices. So many choices.
I seem to be in a bit of a mood so, let’s go with something a little different…
This snippet is from something new I’ve just turned in and that I’m now waiting on an answer from my editor. It’s called Malachi’s Heart (I’m not sold on the title yet either) and it’s a M/M Contemporary Western…
Last call at the Bar Next Door. In about an hour, Malachi could go home. Eli would handle the end of clean-up, per their deal. Malachi would open the bar and Eli would lock the door at the end of the night.
Last call. Much as he loved the bar, he sometimes loved leaving it just as much. Especially tonight. Danny was here again and almost too drunk to sit steady on the barstool and way the hell too drunk to stand, walk, or drive himself home. When he was sober, he was Daniel. All grown up and hotter than fire, tempting every man and woman with his crooked smile, his whipcord frame, and his bright green eyes. When he was drunk though, as he seemed to be more often than not lately, he was Danny. All grown up and acting like a teenage kid, full of angst and sadness.
“C’mon Danny. Time for you to go.” Malachi ‘Mal’ Rhalston picked up Danny’s half empty glass of whiskey.
“Hey asshole. I wasn’t done with that,” Danny said, louder than necessary with Mal standing right in front of him. Mal held up the glass and and swirled the amber colored liquid against the sides.
“This? You weren’t done with this?” Mal looked at it. “It is a bad idea to waste such good whiskey.” He downed it himself in one swallow, feeling the burn all the way to his soul. Danny wasn’t the only one suffering over anything, but he always liked to think he was. Selfish prick.
“I was right. You are an asshole.” It was said without heat or rancor, only a weariness that hurt Mal to hear.
Mal smiled his typical bartender smile. It wasn’t one he usually gave Danny being they were best friends and all, but right now, it was all he could muster. “Never said I wasn’t.” He wiped down the bar in the immediate area of Danny. The man never wore cologne, but had a spicy, earthy scent all his own that Mal would know anywhere. He didn’t know if anyone else could smell it and it didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered was that he could, that he knew Danny so well… He mentally shook himself and focused his attention once again on Danny, on his face. “So, what had you in here tonight tyin’ one on?”
“Same shit, different day.”
One thing Mal always admired about Danny was the fact that the man could be stinkin’ drunk and still speak without slurs or ripples in his words. Most men in the bar that got that blasted couldn’t string the syllables of their own names together, much less carry on an actual conversation. To talk to Danny, one wouldn’t know he was fifteen sheets to the wind aside from the lack of balance and the smell of his breath. “Which shit would that be? Job shit or man shit?”
Danny was working his own place a few miles outside town. It was something neither of them ever wanted years ago when they had a chance to own a ranch, but Danny had found a small one that needed a lot of work and he’d thrown himself into it.
“Man.” Danny spat the word with disgust and Mal wiped the bar again just to be on the safe side. “It’s always about a man.”
“Things not work out with that pretty thing you carted out of here the other night?” The glare Danny leveled at Mal would have frightened a lesser man. Mal wasn’t now nor had he ever been scared of Danny. Their friendship went back too far. They knew everything about one another. Danny, drunk or sober, wouldn’t hurt anyone unless it was to protect someone else and he sure as hell would never strike Mal.
“You should know the answer to that one.” Mal did know and secretly, whether it was the right thing or not, he was always glad. Danny always did do things the hard way.
“Then why do you bother?”
“Can’t have who I really want.” The words were miserably spoken, full of sadness and resignation. Mal understood exactly what it meant and felt like to want someone so much and not be able to have them. He’d been dealing with it most his life, but hearing those words from Danny… Well, it was the first time the other man had admitted he felt something for someone.
“You mean there is someone? A serious someone?” He desperately wanted to ask who the man was that had Danny all fucked in the head and drinking the desire away every night. He wanted to know who had been lucky enough to garner Danny’s romantic interest so he could help the guy get his head out of his ass. Danny was special and deserved someone just as… Mal should know. He’d always wanted to be the man Danny fell in love with.
“Where the hell have you been? Of course there’s a serious someone. You think I like fucking a different ass every other week? Damn, Mal. I thought you of all people would… Shit. I’m outta here.”
“I’ve been trying to get your ass outta here for ten minutes.” At Danny’s confused looked, Mal laughed and hoped he’d pulled it off as nothing more than friendly. “Last call, remember?”
(a little man candy for y’all since there’s no hot cover)
Now, please have a wonderful Saturday and make sure to drop in on the other authors participating in Snippet Saturday:
Megan Hart:Read in bed!
Mandy M Roth
Bad Boys. At Night. Oh. My.
I have a few of those. Vinter. Dallon. Jaz. And readers LOVE bad boys…
Snippet: Simple Need
Vinter grinned again. He couldn’t help it. He’d watched her from the moment she walked in, to the moment she sat down at the bar, to the moment he couldn’t stand it any longer and he got up to sit next to her. He’d never seen her before, and while the bar attracted all sorts, the buttoned-up type of woman usually wasn’t it. He’d had innocent intentions from the get-go. He only wanted to say hello, talk to her for a few minutes, give her a friendly ear, listen to whatever her story was, because often people went to a bar for the first time because they didn’t know where else to go. They wanted to get lost in a place no one would know them and some would open up in that safe environment of anonymity.
Vinter wanted to know what had brought her into his bar, and getting her into bed had been the farthest thing from his mind. However, the second he sat next to her and she turned those big emerald eyes on him, he’d been a goner.
Lust flared in the green depths when she looked at him, and his gut twisted into a knot that slid down to his nuts and tugged hard. She tried to bank it, to mask it, but it remained steady as her eyes traveled up and down his body, lingering on the tats on his arms, zeroing in on his mouth. Hers went slack and her tongue slid out to lick her lips. He would have kissed her but he had the feeling the moment his mouth touched hers they’d be on the bar making out with him trying to get them both naked. Not that he would care.
“What’s your name?”
“Does it matter?”
Does it matter? Of course to hell it mattered. How was he supposed to whisper it in her ear as he pounded her ass if he didn’t know it? “Yes.”
“Really? Why? This is just about sex. Names don’t figure into it.”
Was she serious? It might start out as just being about sex, but he had a feeling that it wouldn’t end that way. “Trust me, names do figure into it. Maybe not tonight or even tomorrow, but by the end of the weekend, names will be figuring into it a lot.” When she stood there with her lips compressed into a thin line and her eyes looking everywhere but at him, he relented. Only for the time being, though. “Very well. You don’t have to tell me yours. Yet. However, mine is Vinter.”
Her eyes snapped up to meet his. He read relief there that he wasn’t going to press the issue. “Thank you. I just think names are a complication this kind of thing doesn’t need.”
“This kind of thing? Just what do you think this is?”
“You know, one night.”
“Huh.” He nodded once, though he completely disagreed and slid off the barstool, gesturing for her to walk ahead of him. She stopped short and had he not been paying attention, he’d have bumped right into her. As it was, he was able to catch himself just a hairsbreadth from her. When she turned around, her nose brushed his chest and she ended up being the one to stumble back in surprise. He caught her around the back of the neck only to haul her into his body.
Her breath came out on in a whoosh. “Th-the drink. Are you sure?” she panted out, her gaze locked in the center of his chest.
“I’m sure.” Vinter breathed in deep, the warm scents of fruit and spice wrapping around him. She looked up, questions in her eyes, and he smiled. “I own part of the house.”
“Oh. Okay then.”
She gave him a short, crisp nod and maneuvered out of his hold and out the door. He ignored the laughter ringing out behind him from the bartender and followed her outside into the cool night air.
She was on him in a second. The force of her launching herself at him pressed him back against the wall of the building as she pulled his mouth down to hers. Maybe she wasn’t as buttoned down as he’d first thought.
Her kiss was hungry and desperate. He hated that she’d been driven to need what he could give, but at the same time, he’d give it all and then some, grateful that he had what she needed. He was suddenly very glad that he’d stopped at the bar on his way home.
Snippet – Carnal Ecstasy
Dallon wiped down the bar for what seemed the hundredth time. Damn. Was the night ever going to end? He didn’t want to be there. It was that simple, but what he couldn’t figure out was why. He loved the bar, loved being in the bar, loved owning his third of the bar. It was his home, his safe haven, but tonight he just couldn’t muster up the love for it.
Tossing the rag in the sink, he knew exactly why he was so restless. Carrie. The woman he’d met at the grocery store earlier in the day. He’d walked out, carrying his purchases and stopped dead when he heard her voice as she talked on the phone and just stared at her. Dressed conservatively in a knee-length skirt that hugged her hips and a blindingly white, stiffly starched button-down shirt, he couldn’t take his eyes off her. Her dark brown hair was pulled back in a tight ponytail and all he wanted to do was pull it. He’d wanted her on her knees right then and there, sucking the hell out of his dick while he held his bags of pretzels and cans of peanuts in one hand and pulled on that ponytail with the other. And here hours later, he wanted her still, naked on the bar, with her legs over his shoulders while he ate at her pussy. He wanted her and the innocence in her eyes so much he hurt.
They spoke briefly when she’d approached him and asked for directions to her new job. She’d explained that she was new in town, knew how to find her way from her apartment to where she would be working, but that she’d gotten all turned around while running errands and was lost. As she talked, all he could see in his mind was his ass burning in hell for the outrageously impure thoughts he was having about her mouth, her tits inside a bra he figured was serviceable and not at all sexy, and the holy land between her thighs. He’d had virgins and innocents before, and at times loved being the one to pop cherries. But this particular cherry was not going to be picked by him because she worked at the one place in town he swore never to associate with again, and that included the people there. She was off limits.
What a goddamn fucking shame too.
She’d asked his name and had willingly given hers, something he could have gone without knowing because now he knew what to call out when he came later. And that was just going to make it worse. Her name on his lips, in his mind.
Dallon looked up at the clock. Thirty minutes and he could close everything down for the night. He could lock up and head upstairs, jack off to the memory of her sweet, soft self. It was probably a good thing he didn’t know where she lived or that’s where he’d be going. He didn’t think someone like her would venture into a bar, so he was safe there too, even though she’d asked where he worked and if it was likely she’d be seeing him again, how it would be nice to have at least one friend.
He’d cursed himself for telling her where the bar was at the same moment he was giving her those directions too. Resisting temptation had never been his strong suit and damned if he wasn’t tempted from head to toe by her lush body and sweet voice and dark, melted chocolate eyes.
His head shot up and his gaze landed on her. “What the hell are you doing here?” he barked.
Her eyes widened at his harsh tone and the question he’d carelessly thrown out at her. He hadn’t meant to, but he was too close to the edge. He couldn’t remember the last time he wanted someone so much. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it that way, I just…”
She smiled and walked closer to the bar and to him, undeterred. God help him. He flinched inwardly at his choice of word. “It’s okay. I’m sure we’re both equally surprised.”
She was so pretty, so downy and pure. He wanted to defile every inch of her flesh until nothing could ever erase the memory of him from her skin. He wanted so much but he fucking needed her to leave. “You shouldn’t be here, Carrie.” Literally, the man or woman upstairs needed to send a bolt of lightning south and strike him dead for the thoughts he was having about this woman.
“Why not? This is a bar and I want a drink.” She sat down on a barstool directly across from him and linked her fingers on top of the dark, scarred wood.
He sighed. Why not? Oh, because the kind of things he wanted to do to her would ruin him for any other woman. And he’d bet she’d never had a drop of alcohol before. “You do, huh? Anything in particular?” There’s no way he’d give her just anything. He didn’t want her throwing up.
“Maybe a beer? One of those kinds with lime. You know, from the commercials of the couple on the beach. I like lime.”
Right. Beer wasn’t a bad choice. He personally couldn’t stand the stuff, but it was milder than a whiskey or tequila or rum. He dug around in the ice chest to his right for a Corona, popped the top off with the bottle opener and placed it on a cardboard coaster in front of her. “Take it slow. Don’t take a big swallow at first.”
She nodded and picked up the bottle and inhaled. It was the cutest thing how her nose wrinkled. She tentatively put the beer to her mouth, and just before she wrapped her lips around the opening, she looked up at him and lowered it slightly. “Do you like beer?”
Should he be honest or should he tell a little white lie? “Yes, every now and then.” What could the fib hurt? Whether he drank beer or not didn’t matter. What did matter was her feeling as if she weren’t completely alone in this.
When she wrapped her mouth around the lip of the bottle and tilted it up, letting some of the smooth, golden liquid flow across her tongue, Dallon fought back a groan. She swallowed, and as he watched her throat working, all he could think of was her mouth wrapped around his dick and her swallowing his come. “What do you think?”
She took another small sip then a bigger sip, and then set the bottle back down on the coaster. “It’s hard to describe. It’s not really a pleasant taste but it’s not a bad one either.” She smiled. “I think I like it. How much do I owe you?”
“You don’t. It’s on the house.”
“Oh no, I couldn’t accept that,” she said, and reached into her purse.
Dallon reached across the bar and stayed her hand. The contact was sizzling hot. “Yes, you can accept it. It’s on the house,” he said again. He didn’t want to let go of her wrist, but he did. It was time for her to go, time for him to lock up and forget he’d ever met her. He liked being single, unencumbered. He liked one-night stands and no morning-after awkwardness. If he had her once, he’d have her again and again. Not good for his peace of mind and his carefree existence. “I need to close up.”
He didn’t know what else he should say, but she didn’t respond. She was looking around the bar, turning full circle on the stool. When she faced him again, she picked up the bottle and took another swallow. Damn, but she had a pretty mouth.
“I don’t want to leave.”
Shit. Don’t say anything. Not a word. Not a single solitary word. “You should.”
She raised her eyes to look him square in his, a silent challenge reflected there. “Why?”
Dammit. He planted his hands on the edge of the bar and leaned toward her until he could smell the beer on her breath. “Because you don’t know who I am and you don’t know what fire you’re playing with.”
She licked at her lips. He wasn’t even sure she knew she did it. “W-who are you?”
No sense lying about it or anything else now. “The devil himself.”
Snippet – Ink Spots
“Did she tell you why I couldn’t be there for her?”
And she took that moment, that one serious moment to use that tongue of hers on her fork. It snaked out and licked at a drop of the liquid sugar before it could drip back onto the plate. His dick ached painfully under the table. He had to force himself not to reach down and adjust himself. The damn woman was hell on him.
“It doesn’t bother you?” he managed to croak out.
“What? That you were in jail for a bit? No. Should it?”
She just kept licking syrup from the tines. Heaven help him. She dipped the fork in the syrup on her plate then lifted it to her mouth and slowly licked at it, front and back, repeating the process a few more times, making it really difficult to resist the urge to pull her across the table and shove his cock to the back of her throat. “You need to stop that.”
Wide eyes flew up to lock with his gaze and that damnedable blush was back. She took one more long, slow lick of the piece of silverware before putting it down. The tip of her tongue took a swipe of her lower lip before retreating back behind her teeth.
She didn’t look one bit contrite, so he wasn’t sure he believed her on that. “How many candles?” There, he was changing the subject to something very, very safe.
“It’s not polite to ask a woman her age.”
“I didn’t. I asked how many candles. You could say one, two, thirty.”
“Uh-huh.” She smirked and he winked. “Forty.”
“You’re shittin’ me.”
“You don’t look a day over thirty. Not that I’ve ever been good with guessing people’s ages, but you don’t look any older than me.”
“How old are you?”
“Well, I’m not too much older than you and Jackie is my age.”
“I know, but she doesn’t look it either, and if I had to guess her age, I wouldn’t think she’s forty.”
“Forty is the new thirty, you know.”
“Age really doesn’t mean a whole lot to me.”
“What does? And if age doesn’t mean anything to you, why’d you ask?”
“So, I’d know how many birthday swats you get. And at the moment? You. You naked means a whole hell of a lot to me.”
The last blush hadn’t completely faded before another took its place, and he couldn’t stop himself. He pushed his plate then hers out of the way and leaned across the table. His intent was to give her a small kiss, but the second his lips touched hers, his tongue was inside her mouth, tasting sweetness that had him on the brink of a whole lot of improper public displays of affection.
When he pulled back, her eyes were dilated and her pulse was visibly throbbing in her neck. Reluctantly he nudged her back down and he sat, both frustrated and pleased with himself at the reactions he could cause in her. “Can’t very well do that here in the pancake place though.”
“Then I guess we need to go.”
Her words caused his dick to jerk in his jeans and Jaz couldn’t blame it for wanting at her as soon as possible. He looked around the very busy and full-for-one-thirty-in-the-morning restaurant and lifted his hand when he spotted their waitress. She nodded and would eventually make her way over to them.
Mandi picked up her fork again and was drawing designs in the syrup with it. He could think of a lot of things he would like to do with the syrup and her body. He cleared his throat and took a sip of his water. For not even trying, the woman had him so horny, so damn ready to fuck on the table. He couldn’t remember the last time a woman had made him feel that way.
Every time he saw her at Katz, he was ready to throw down and fuck her. Right now, in the middle of a family restaurant, was no different. There weren’t really any families to speak of at the moment, but… Even he didn’t know what it was about her that had him so tied up in knots, but that was quite all right with him. He didn’t need to know. He just needed to make sure she never forgot him, never forgot anything he did to her earlier, or would do to her later. He wanted to imprint himself on her body, on her mind, eventually on her heart.
“You really don’t care about age?”
“Nope. It’s just a number.”
“Good. I have a confession to make then.”
“I’m all ears.”
“I’ve been crushing on you since my first night at Katz. I argued with Jackie when she wanted to seat you and your friends at one of my tables.”
“Why were you arguing?”
“Lust at first sight, I think. I don’t know. I saw you walk in behind Vinter and Dallon and…” She shook her head and looked away. Hell if he wasn’t going to make her finish that statement.
“I can’t say it.”
“Oh yes you can. Spill it.”
“No, I can’t.”
He couldn’t tell if she was just being a tease or if she really was embarrassed because she still wasn’t looking at him. “What do you want to do after we leave here?”
That got her attention. She turned back to him. “Ummm…you.”
“Good. I wanna do you too. But we’re not leaving here until you tell me what comes after the ‘and’.”
Her mouth dropped open for a split second before she closed it. “That’s not nice.”
“I didn’t say anything about nice.”
“You make me wetter than any man I’ve ever known.”
“Is that what—”
“Yes. I creamed my panties when I saw you. Felt them get all wet as I watched you looking around. Every other guy paled in comparison. I told Jackie I couldn’t wait on you. That I couldn’t talk to you. She just smiled and said she understood.”
“So she was matchmaking from the very beginning.”
“We need to go. Now.” And lucky for them, their waitress chose that moment to stop and drop off the check. Jaz didn’t hesitate in picking it up. He tossed a few bills down for the tip and held his hand out for Mandi. When she took it, he pulled her up against him. “And we’re even too.”
“What do you mean?”
“You give me more hard-ons than any woman I’ve ever known.”
I just couldn’t resist. Now, once you’ve fanned yourself, head off to enjoy snippets from the following awesome authors.
Megan Hart:Read in bed!
Mandy M Roth