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Mid Week Tease: Red Robin and the Huntsman #MidWeekTease #MWTease
Hello, lovelies! This week I’m teasing you with a new snippet from my holiday novella Red Robin and the Huntsman. In it, we get a look at Duncan and Roberta: The Early Years, and see how things went sour between them. Man, I’m a mean author…
Many thanks to Angelica Dawson for hosting us, and make sure to hit the list after the teaser to see other great Mid Week Teases!
Getting ready for bed was a matter of shucking out of the day’s clothes, giving himself a quick wash with the now-cold water left on the dresser, then climbing into bed. The sheets were as cold as the water, and Duncan wondered if perhaps his men in the camp weren’t better off after all. At least they would have a decent fire, unlike the pitiful pile of twigs burning in his fireplace.
Waiting for the bedclothes to warm up, he thought about the woman sleeping not a hundred yards from his own bed. I suppose I should consider myself lucky I have a room at all. Considering the way she was looking at me, she would’ve put me in the stables if Devines hadn’t spoken up.
He turned over in the chilly bedclothes and remembered a happier time…
****
“Hellas?” Roberta Duquesne’s eyes widened at the news. “For how long?”
“Six months, give or take,” Duncan said, pacing the length of her father’s sitting room. He’d come straight from the barracks with the news and was too excited to sit down. “Possibly longer if we’re held up by storms.”
Being chosen for the Ypresian military delegation that would be sent to the island nation was an incredible honor, especially for an ensign fresh out of the academy. The ambassadors of King Matthias and King Cresus of Hellas had been working for the past year on a massive trade treaty between their countries. After all the details were finally hammered out, it would be sealed by the marriage of the king’s son Crown Prince Lucas to the Hellene heir Princess Danaë, once both of them were old enough to wed.
Even better, the treaty would also involve co-training of the two countries’ military forces. This delegation was the test case to see how that could best be achieved. Duncan wasn’t all that enthusiastic about having to spend time on a boat, but the experience he would gain in Hellas would be invaluable for his career. Once he returned to Ypres, he would be one of the officers setting out the track for the entire army’s future. His father was already lieutenant commander of the Ypresian army; he might even surpass that someday and become Lord Commander himself.
So he was disappointed when Robin sank onto a chair at his news, confusion and dismay warring on her face. Her father, Colonel Gerard Duquesne, had served as the commandant of the military academy for the last ten years. Of all people, she should know that a soldier’s life wasn’t his own. “They only chose three ensigns to go,” he said now, trying to ignore his irritation. “If I do well in Hellas, I’m sure to be promoted within the year.”
She still looked miserable. “But you’ll be in Hellas for half a year, Duncan. That’s so far away.”
“Aye, but it’s the only way we can learn how to fight alongside sailors. They can come here for the land trials, but we have to go where the water is for the sea trials.” He paused in front of the fireplace, relishing the heat. It was only autumn, but Mons had already seen a light dusting of snow. Hellas is supposed to be warm year ’round. Perhaps I could bring her out there for a trip–with a chaperone, of course.
He glanced at her, wondering how to snap her out of this puzzling funk. Their fathers had been army comrades for years, their families mingling at holidays and other celebrations. For most of Duncan’s childhood Robin had been a thin, gawky, annoying girl who insisted on being included in his war games with Ewan and Hamish. After he had gone off to the military academy, determined to follow in his father’s footsteps and become a renowned cavalry officer, all thoughts of Robin Duquesne evaporated from his head until his last year of school when his class was required to attend the academy’s Harvest Ball.
The event was held in order to give the future officers a semblance of social polish, and was always well attended by pretty young women eager to find a military husband. Reluctantly, Duncan had accompanied the other officer candidates to the ball, lurking on the outskirts of the dance floor. His unusual height presented certain disadvantages when it came to dancing; either the girl got a crick in her neck from peering up at him, or he spent the dance staring at the crown of her head. Granted, it also meant he got a good look at her bosom, but that tended to cause a certain reaction below the belt. The offset alignment in heights made it hard to hide his interest and had earned him a slapped face more than once.
He’d been on the verge of leaving when a tall, gorgeous redhead broke free from the feminine throng and approached him. Her pale teal gown made her look like a seamaid rising from the foam and outlined sleek curves that made his palms sweat. “Thank the gods you’re here, Duncan,” she said with a delighted smile. “Will you please dance with me and save me from the lead boots of your brother officers?”
With a start, he recognized Robin Duquesne. The annoying little girl of his memory had grown up into a stunning young woman. It took a moment to find his tongue, but he finally managed, “If you like. I’m warning you, I’m not much better.”
“At least you’re light on your feet. I’m willing to risk it.”
The sparkle in her eyes had been impossible to resist. He led her onto the dance floor, surprised at the way she fit so well in his arms, and found himself gliding around the ballroom with her as if they’d been dancing together for years. Without quite intending to, he found himself courting her. The sniping of their childhood slowly transmuted into easy bantering and a genuine rapport, spiced with sweet kisses and stolen caresses. Best of all, Robin had a knack for anticipating his thoughts, which was why her current dismay at his posting was so surprising.
“Six months isn’t that long, if you think about it,” he offered.
She scoffed at that. “Easy for you to say. What am I supposed to do while you’re off learning naval warfare?”
“I assumed you’d keep doing what you’ve been doing. Helping your ma, studying with your da, volunteering at the widows and orphans’ home, that sort of thing.”
Her eyes narrowed. “I see. So you go off to learn naval battle tactics, while I stay home with my parents and do charity work.”
Her chilly tone was as clear as a trumpet call to battle. “If there’s something else you want to do while I’m gone, you don’t need my permission,” he said, trying to sound conciliatory. “Go off and do it.”
“How kind of you. Unfortunately for me, the one thing I want to do requires the assistance of a husband.”
Duncan smothered a sigh. He knew she didn’t mean bedding, much as he longed to get her naked and under him. She wanted to marry him. “Robin, we’ve talked about this.”
“Yes, we have. You didn’t want to get married until you graduated. I could see your point, so I waited. Then, you had to find your footing in the army. Once again, I saw your point, so I waited. Now I learn that you’re heading off to Hellas for six months, give or take.” An elegant hand rose, opening in a sharp gesture. “Were you ever planning on marrying me, or was this all some elaborate ploy to stay in my father’s good graces?”
Duncan bristled. “That’s not fair, and you know it.”
“Isn’t it? I know Father was the one who drew up the list of officers to be sent to Hellas.”
“Which my da approved,” he shot back.
“Your father would’ve never put you on that list, and you know it. He’s bent over backwards to stay away from your military career.”
He tried to tamp down his rising anger. For the gods’ sake, why was she being so irrational? “I didn’t need my da’s help to get this posting, or yours,” he snapped. “I earned my way onto that list. I had the highest grades of my graduating class, and I’ve excelled at every training opportunity I’ve been given. I’m a damned good officer, Robin, and I deserve to go to Hellas.”
In prior years, she would have shouted at him, giving as good as she’d gotten. Now, her expression closed off, leaving him with a marble effigy of the woman he loved. Damn it, Robin, why can’t you see how this will help both of us? Sighing, he knelt down in front of her chair, taking her cold hands in his own. “Don’t you understand what this can mean for me, love? Quicker promotions, better postings, more money for a household.” He rubbed his thumbs over her delicate skin, trying to warm it. “And I need that money if I’m to marry you. Do you want to live in some run-down boarding house while I’m deployed? Because that’s all I can afford for you at the moment.”
She looked away, profile limned by the firelight. “I suppose not.”
“No, I didn’t think you would.” He lowered his tone, making it persuasive. “So I go to Hellas, do the best job I can do, and line things up for a promotion when I get back. And after that, we’ll get married, if that’s what you want.”
Now she turned back, storm-blue eyes focusing on him. “Is that what you want, Duncan?”
He paused, aware that he was treading on dangerous ground. He had always assumed that they would marry at some point. He had no issue with the idea, especially if it got Robin into his bed, but he wanted it to happen at the right time with regards to his career. Taking on a dependent (or more, if she got pregnant early) wasn’t on the schedule just yet.
But saying that out loud would just anger her even more. “Of course I want to marry you. And we’ll talk about it in more detail when I get back from Hellas, I promise.” He leaned closer, gazing into the storm-blue eyes he loved. “Trust me, Robin. Please.”
She hesitated for a moment, then nodded. “All right. Go to Hellas and make your mark. But I’ll expect regular letters, understood?”
“Of course, love.” He kissed her, breathing in her honeysuckle perfume as he memorized the softness of her lips. Gods, he truly would miss her. “I’ll write you every day, I promise.”
He had meant to keep that promise, even bringing paper, sealing wax, and ink with him to the island of Rhodope where the training would commence. But there had been so much to do, what with the working on the integration of Ypresian and Hellene fighting styles, teaching sailors how to ride horses and learning how to handle sail lines and tillers. And then there were the multitudinous tasks delegated to him and the other ensigns by their superior officers. By the time he reached his cot every night, he barely had enough energy to crawl under the thin cotton blanket and fall into dreamless slumber. He kept meaning to write to Robin, would remind himself to do just that the next day before drifting off. And then the next day would dawn and he would be back in the grind.
It wasn’t until his delegation was preparing to leave that he found himself with enough time to compose a letter. He had sat there, staring at the blank paper, a drop of ink hanging off the nib of his quill. Why even bother? It’ll take a week to reach her, and I’ll be there less than a week afterward. Better to save all the news for when I can tell her in person.
Cheered at the thought, he wiped off the quill and put it away. Two more weeks, and he would be back in Mons with his beautiful Robin. Everything would be wonderful then.
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Mid Week Tease: Red Robin and the Huntsman #MidWeekTease #MWTease
Hello, lovelies! This week I’m teasing you with another snippet from my holiday novella set in the Two Thrones universe, Red Robin and the Huntsman. This is the scene where a captured Duncan first finds out who’s behind the banditry plaguing the province of Wellen. Heh, heh, heh…
Many thanks to Angelica Dawson for hosting us, and make sure to hit the list after the teaser to see other great Mid Week Teases!
The first thing Duncan became aware of was a sullen, painful pounding in his head. Groaning, he tried to straighten up, and couldn’t.
Opening his eyes didn’t improve matters much. His smeary vision slowly came into focus, revealing a room in what appeared to be a small cottage. Its once-whitewashed walls were stained yellow with age and in dire need of repair. Glancing down, he saw that someone had tied him to a wooden chair.
The leader of the thieves came into view, peering down at him. “Good, you’re awake,” he said. The brazen tone from the raid was gone. Now he sounded conciliatory. “I was hoping we wouldn’t have to toss a bucket of water over you. Bit too nippy for that sort of thing, you see.”
“Thanks.” Duncan winced as the words set off echoes of pain in his skull. “Where am I?”
“Somewhere safe. The Redbird wants a word with you.”
“He does, does he?” That caused the painful fog to dissipate. “You do know how much trouble all of you are in, yes?”
The thief’s shoulders twitched. “I’m not the one tied to a chair, captain. Best mind your manners with the Redbird. None of us will tolerate lip.” He hefted his pike meaningfully.
Duncan tried to swallow, but his mouth was desert-dry. “Let’s get this over with. Send the bastard in.”
The thief shook his head, snorting. “You’ve got bollocks like boulders, my friend. On your own head be it.” He nodded to someone out of sight.
A figure in a long, dark red cloak with a hood strode into view. It was the stride more than the dramatic cloak that caught Duncan’s attention. Clearly this was the infamous Redbird, leader of the Wellen brigands.
“You shouldn’t have come here, captain,” the cloaked figure whispered, a harsh sound in the silence of the cottage. “Now we have to kill you.”
Duncan bit his lip to restrain a laugh. The dim illumination from the room’s fireplace couldn’t penetrate the shadows of the hood, presumably on purpose. He focused instead on the boots. Good quality, excellent even, unlike the footwear he’d noticed on the rest of the thieves. And on the small side.
He took in a deep breath. What he smelled on the cold, dusty air confirmed his suspicions. “You can always ransom me,” he offered. “My father’s lord commander of the royal army. He’ll pay for my safe return.”
The Redbird’s hood shifted, turning to the thief for a moment. “How much?”
“Oh, I’d say enough to pay for a decent breakfast with meat. Maybe even some bread as well.” He allowed himself a brief smile. “Your dining hall could do with some variety, Robin. A man can only eat oatmeal so many times.”
The cloaked figure let out a hissed curse before yanking back its hood. Lady Roberta Busse’s now-irritated face appeared, glaring at him. “How did you know?”
“Your walk. Men and women walk differently. Something about the difference in our hips, I suspect. Then I noticed your boots. They’re smaller than a man’s.” He shrugged as best as he could in the ropes. “Finally, I recognized your perfume. You still wear honeysuckle essence.”
“Damn it.” She planted fists on her hips, looking like a furious fire sprite with her flaming hair. Duncan’s treacherous heart ached at the sight. “So what now? Are you going to threaten me with prison? Haul me back to the capital in chains for theft against the crown?”
He had to be careful. He was still tied to a chair, and the thief behind his lost lady love was armed. “I could. But somehow I don’t think you’d risk capture and imprisonment, not to mention the ruin of your son’s reputation, just for gold.” He held up his bound hands. “Plus there’s the fact that I’m somewhat tied up at the moment. What say you cut me loose, then take a seat and tell me what in blazes is going on here.”
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Mid Week Tease: Red Robin and the Huntsman #MidWeekTease #MWTease
Hello, lovelies! This week I’m teasing you with a snippet from my holiday novella set in the Two Thrones universe. Titled Red Robin and the Huntsman, it introduces a few new characters to the series such as Duncan Bardahlson, the eldest son of Matthias’s lord commander Ferdal Bardahlson. And if you follow my FB or Twitter, you know who I cast as Duncan in my head, heh, heh.
When Duncan is sent (along with his annoying brothers Ewan and Hamish) to investigate bandits attacking tax collectors in a small province, he comes face to face with a lost love, the now-widowed Lady Roberta Busse. Will Duncan get a second chance at happiness with Roberta, or is he doomed to spend Frost Fair alone? You’ll find out in December!
Many thanks to Angelica Dawson for hosting us, and make sure to hit the list after the teaser to see other great Mid Week Teases!
They sat on the bed, Robin’s head on his shoulder. “I missed you.”
“I missed you, too. I’m sorry.”
“So am I. We were both fools.”
“No, just young and hotheaded.” Without thinking, Duncan kissed her hair. To his relief she didn’t push him away. “And stubborn as blazes.”
“That’s an understatement.” She chuckled. “Poor Charles. He thought he was getting a demure, gently raised flower as his wife. And he got me instead.”
“Aye. But from the sounds of things, that’s what he needed. Someone strong enough to hold things together when he couldn’t.”
She looked up at him. “And you didn’t need that.”
This time he kissed her forehead. “Says who?”
“Duncan.”
“No, I mean it. I needed you, Robin. I was too arrogant and foolish to tell you, aye. But I needed you.”
Praying he wasn’t doing the wrong thing, he kissed her lips. They were cool against his own, and his heart sank. I’m a fool, I never should have done this…
Then her mouth softened. He heard a small, hungry noise. He wasn’t sure which one of them had made it, and didn’t care. Raising his hand to cup the tangled silk of her hair, he kissed her harder. She responded, opening her mouth and meeting his tongue with her own.
It felt like coming home. She tasted the same as she had twelve years ago, when she was still Roberta Duquesne and he thought he had all the time in the world to woo her. He lost himself in the sensual, swirling dance and the sweet taste of her, the only woman he had ever loved.
And then they were stretched out over the heavy coverlet, Robin in his arms. Her breasts and belly pressed against him like he’d always dreamed, filling him with a hot craving to take her. He had enough presence of mind to pull away from her mouth, sucking in a breath. “If you want to stop, say so now. Please.”
****
Robin wasn’t sure if she wanted to laugh or cry at Duncan’s agonized question. If he moved away now and left her aching and unfulfilled, she’d go mad. “I don’t want to stop,” she breathed, stroking the soft prickly stubble on his cheek. “I need you. Please, Duncan.”
“Gods.” It was curse and prayer at the same time. His lips came down on hers again, a welcome invader claiming new territory. She surrendered happily, kissing him with all the passion that had lain dormant since Charles’s death.
One large hand with those long, clever fingers stroked her cheek, her throat, tracing lines of fire along her skin. They dropped down to the top of her chest, toying with the neckline of her nightgown but going no further. That was Duncan, a gentleman to the end.
Impatient, she grabbed his hand and placed it on her left breast. The lovely sensation of it made her groan, and the warmth of his palm caused her nipple to stiffen.
He chuckled against her lips. “Forward lass.”
“When was I not?”
“True.” He cupped her breast, squeezing gently before letting it go. Unlacing the ties of her neckline, he tugged it open and exposed her to the air. He gazed down at her breasts like a devout man might look at an effigy of the god Rebben. “So beautiful. Gods, Robin, you’re all cream and pink, like two cherry blossoms.”
The unexpected poetical description made her blush. “Baby-chewed, I would think.”
“No. Perfect.” His head lowered until the wet heat of his mouth surrounded her nipple. She whimpered when the velvet of his tongue licked across it deliberately, the sweet friction setting her on fire.
Duncan continued to make love to her breast with his lips and tongue, hand cradling the other one as if in reassurance. When he switched between then, she keened for a moment in complaint before his mouth worked new magic on her other nipple. Between her thighs a familiar, hungry ache began to grow.
“Wait,” she begged.
He let go of her breast with a soft pop. “What?”
“Take off your shirt. I want to see you.”
He hesitated, grimacing. “I don’t know why. I’m not nearly as lovely as you.”
“Please, Duncan. Let me look at you.”
Letting out a soft sigh, he leaned back and pulled off his shirt. It exposed an impressively muscled chest covered with dark, curling hair. “Ewan says I look like a bear,” he muttered.
“Ewan’s an idiot.” She wound her fingers into the crisp curls, lowering her face and taking in a deep breath. The scent of leather, salt, clean sweat, and a rich, dark musk tantalized her nose. “You have no idea how much I loved seeing you with your shirt off. I kept wandering past the exercise yard when you were sparring, hoping you’d get too warm and strip down.”
He blinked at her. “Truly?”
“Truly. I only wish I’d had the nerve to spy on you when you went swimming with your brothers.” She grinned up at him. “I always wanted to see you naked.”
And now he blushed. “You never.”
“I did. I used to daydream about that lovely band of muscle that disappeared into your breeches like a V. I always wanted to see how far down it went.”
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Mid Week Tease: Gentleman Jackson #MidWeekTease #MWTease
Hello, lovelies! This week I’m teasing you with another snippet from “Gentleman Jackson” because I haven’t gotten into any of the sexy stuff in Cross Current yet. Besides, this’ll be out in less than three weeks in Evernight’s hot new antho Lawless — trust me, you’ll want to pick that one up.
Many thanks to Angelica Dawson for hosting us, and make sure to hit the list after the teaser to see other great Mid Week Teases!
Colton’s place turned out to be a gorgeous three-bedroom loft in a converted factory building. Colton pulled out a burner phone and handed it to Ria, then headed off to the bathroom.
Taking a deep breath, she checked the unlabeled number on her phone and tapped it into the burner phone.
Two rings, then a familiar voice said, “¿Si?”
“Carlos, it’s Ria,” she said in Spanish.
A pause. “This isn’t your number.”
“No, it’s a burner phone.” Quickly, she explained the day’s events in family code, glossing over names or identifying information that could be used by law enforcement agencies listening in. Carlos knew enough to fill in the details. “So I’m out of Dallas,” she finished, pacing along the length of the granite kitchen counter. “I’m going to stay with my friend for awhile.”
He chuckled softly. “Good. You were bored stupid in Dallas, hermana. This man you’re with, he’s a gentleman, a caballero?”
A memory of riding Colton flashed through her mind. She was grateful Carlos couldn’t see her blush. “He’s a gentleman, hermano. He’ll take care of me.”
Another pause, a longer one. “If he doesn’t, tell him there’s no hole deep enough to hide him from me, you understand?”
“Si. I’ll send my details later.”
“Good. Te amo, hermana.”
“Te amo también.”
The call cut off. Only then did she notice the sound of the shower. Putting the phone on the counter, she headed in search of Colton.
The bathroom was just as luxe as the rest of the apartment, with mocha wall tiles and coordinating floor tiles, a twin sink countertop over espresso cabinets, and a huge square tub in one corner. In the other corner was a large glassed-in shower area. Steam rose from it and she could just see Colton’s body through the foggy glass.
Stripping out of her clothes, she stepped into the enclosure. After everything she’d gone through that day, the hot water felt amazingly good. “How’s the nose?”
He turned, rinsing shampoo out of his hair and blinking at her through the cascading water. “I’ll live.” His voice sounded nasal and stuffy. “How are you?”
“Tired. Hungry.” She stroked her fingertips across his chest, laying her palms flat over his pecs. His nipples felt like little rivets against her skin. “Glad to be here.”
“Well, good, because I’m glad to have you here.” He finished rinsing and kissed her delicately, tilting his head to keep his injured nose out of the way. “You call your brother?”
“Yeah. He’s glad I’m safe, threatened to kill you if you hurt me, the usual macho bullshit.”
Firm lips curved into a smirk. “I don’t think it’s macho bullshit, especially coming from your brother.” His arms came down around her, hands slicking down her back and curving over her ass. He tugged her flush against his groin, holding her there. “Luckily for me, I intend to treat you like the lady you are.”
“God, I hope not.” She kissed his chin, careful not to touch his nose. “I mean, would a lady do this?”
She dropped carefully to one knee, resting her hands on his thighs for balance as she laid a kiss on his still-soft cock. Silently she prompted him to lean back against the shower wall. He did, playing with her wet hair as she started licking the silk-soft skin before taking all of his shaft in her mouth, enjoying the feel of it swelling on her tongue.
She finally had to let it slip out before it choked her, using her hand to pump the hardening thickness while she crouched lower and laved his balls with long, gentle licks. They didn’t look bruised, but she was acutely aware of the injury they’d taken earlier in the day. “If this hurts, tell me and I’ll stop.”
He let out a long, rumbling groan. “It feels great. Just be careful—they’re still a little tender.”
“Got it.”
She kept her licks gentle and loving, stroking the furry skin of his sac with her tongue while she caressed his cock with equally slow, gentle touches. Keeping one hand on his thigh, it wasn’t long before she felt the thick muscles there start to tense, then tremble.
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Mid Week Tease: Cross Current #MidWeekTease #MWTease
It’s Wednesday? Awesome! Because I have a little teaser for you from the WIP currently up on Scrivener, Cross Current (Olympic Cove #4). Here, my main character Matt has not only learned that Greek Gods, mermen, and selkies are real, but he has his own role to play in the battle against the Mad Goddess Thetis. He just wanted a few weeks of sun and fun before school started, poor sweetie.
Thanks go out to the lovely Angelica Dawson for doing this every week, and make sure to hit the list after the teaser to see other great Mid Week Teases!
Matt’s tentative knock at the green cottage’s door was met by an unsmiling Griffin. “Hi. Welcome to Greek God Central.”
The repetition of Atropos’s phrase from his dream sent a chill down Matt’s spine. “Hi. Um, Pythia said that I should talk to Amphitrite?”
Griffin moved to the side, letting him in. “Right. She and Poseidon are busy with Donald at the moment. It might be awhile.” He gave Matt a sympathetic look. “How are you holding up?”
“I kinda feel like I got sucked into an episode of Stranger Things. Apart from that, I seem to be okay.”
“Yeah, sounds about right.” The Englishman took him into the kitchen, where he pulled two brown bottles out of the fridge and handed one over. “This’ll help.”
Matt read the microbrewery label. “I thought Brits didn’t chill their beers.”
“We do when we’re in Florida. I take it Nick gave you the scoop on what’s been happening here?”
“Crazy goddess trying to destroy Earth, a bunch of gods and other mythological creatures fighting her, yeah, I know.” He twisted off the bottle cap and took a welcome swig. “I’m not involved.”
“I’m not arguing. I’m new to the whole thing myself.” Although the knowing look in the Englishman’s eyes gave lie to his words. “How are your guests doing?”
“Nick’s treating them. The blond guy’s really a merman?”
“Yep, just like Aidan and Liam. You can probably talk them into going for a swim and showing you their tails.”
“Yeah, no, that’s okay.” He leaned against the counter, rubbing his thumb over the cool, sweating surface of the bottle. “I’m thinking maybe I should go back to Jupiter. If I can’t get my deposit back, I can crash with a buddy until school starts.”
Griffin folded his arms, leaning against the opposite counter. “If that’s truly what you think you should do, then do it. Nobody wants to keep you here against your will.”
Amphitrite picked that moment to appear, looking concerned. “Oh, good, Matt. You’re here. Donald wants to speak with you.”
He straightened up. “Donald?”
“The Oracle of the Waters. Tall man, white hair and beard, came out of the water with our other guests?”
He tried to get his tongue to work properly. “I—why does he want to talk to me?”
“I don’t know,” the goddess said, just a bit exasperated. “That’s something you’ll have to discuss with him.”
She gestured towards the hallway she’d just exited. Feeling like he was walking towards a firing squad, Matt slowly headed deeper into the cottage. Soft voices were coming through an open doorway and he peeked into what was clearly a guest bedroom
Inside, the old man from the beach had been dried off and tucked into bed, wet clothes piled on a chair next to the bed. Poseidon stood over him, handsome face lined as he listened to the man’s words. He glanced up at Matt’s arrival. “Oh, good, they found you. Donald needs to talk to you.”
“Um.” Matt edged into the room, studying the man in the bed. He looked to be about seventy, with Santa Claus-white hair brushed back from a high forehead and a slightly overgrown beard hiding a craggy face. His eyes, however, were his most notable feature. Pale as sea glass, they seemed to burn in that pale face.
“Ah. Matthew,” the man said, a faint lilt coloring his voice. “You’re quite the difficult man to track down.”
Dunn—no, Poseidon—turned and considered Matt. “You’re going to want to listen to him, I’m afraid.” The affable host from last night was gone. Replacing him was a being who radiated power and authority like nothing Matt had ever experienced before. Every rational cell in his body screamed at him to turn around, leave, jump in his car and head north until he was out of reach of the divinity standing in front of him.
“Hi.” He raised a hand and realized he was still holding the beer bottle. With a sigh, Poseidon plucked it out of his hand. “Um, yeah. Ammie said you wanted to talk to me?”
The sea god left, beer bottle in hand, and the man in the bed chuckled wearily. “Poor Poseidon. I don’t think he ever expected me to impose on his hospitality. But if Mohammed won’t come to the mountain, the mountain must come to Mohammed.”
More of the Fates’ words from his dream came back. “Are you talking about my trip to France?” That didn’t make any sense.
But the man nodded. “Yes. You were supposed to visit Marseilles, yes? While you were there, you would have found your way to my cavern and I would have begun your instruction.”
“Whoa, wait. Instruction?”
The old man gave him a wide, white smile. “Yes. Every good teacher knows that learning never truly ends. I’m Donald, by the way.”
“Matt.”
“I know. Matthew Taber, teacher of history to indifferent teenagers, warrior, scholar. You’re my personal choice, you know.”
This was getting far too weird. “Okay, wait,” Matt said, grabbing the wet clothes off the chair and putting them on a nearby dresser. After wiping the seat dry, he sat down in it. “Personal choice for what?”
“To replace me as the Oracle of the Waters.” Another ferocious smile. “I’m not actually immortal, you see. Just very long lived. But even my life is winding to a close, and someone must take over my position and my responsibilities. And out of all the mortals on this planet, I’ve chosen you to do that.”
****
Nick closed the guest room door in time to see a red-faced Matt storm back into the cottage. He went straight into the kitchen and grabbed the bottle of Scotch from the counter, opening a cabinet and grabbing a glass before pouring himself a triple. Nick winced as the other man tossed back the drink in two huge gulps. “I take it that didn’t go well.”
Matt panted and blinked, sniffing hard. “That’s a fucking understatement, my friend.”
“Okay.” Nick reached down a glass for himself and pulled the Scotch out of Matt’s hand, pouring himself a reasonable finger. “You’ve been given your marching orders?”
“Marching orders? Marching orders?” Matt’s voice rose to a bellow on the last phrase. “Do you know what that old hippie in the cottage over there just told me? Apparently I’m the new Oracle of the Waters. I’m supposed to give up everything in my life and go live in a fucking cave on the coast of fucking France so that fucking sea creatures can come and get me to consult with the fucking Fates on their problems.”
“Huh. Yeah, that’s got to come as a surprise.” Nick took a tiny sip of his liquor. “Kinda know all about that sort of thing myself.”
Matt had started to pace the length of the kitchen floor. “Really? Because I don’t see you going off to live like a fucking monk in a goddamn cave.”
Nick had to give him that. “Is it the cave part that bugs you?”
The pacing man stopped, glaring at him. “What’s bugging me is that I came out here for two weeks of sun and relaxation to get over my damn divorce before I have to go back into the trenches. And suddenly not only do I get dragged into some sort of weird-ass battle against a crazy goddess, but I’m supposed to become the supernatural world’s version of Dear Prudence. In a cave.”
“So it is the cave part.”
“Gimme that.” Matt snatched the Scotch bottle back and poured himself another healthy knock. “You say you know about this sort of thing. How the hell do I get out of it?”
“I don’t think you can. It’s one of those fated things.”
The teacher twitched at that. “God. I dreamed about them last night, you know? The Fates. We were having beer and hot wings at a sports bar. They told me—” He stopped. “They told me I was about to get a new job. And a new romance. Who the fuck is going to want to date a guy living in a cave?”
“I think you’re a little fixated on the cave thing.”
They both turned. The blond merman leaned into the entrance to the kitchen, hands on either side of the entryway and still naked as when he first came out of the water. Nick gave him an admiring once-over. The wide shoulders, thick chest, and well-muscled arms common to merfolk tapered down to a narrow waist and a nice Adonis belt of V-shaped muscle. And under that was a great cock, not too large and not too small, nestled on top of a set of heavy balls and surrounded by a short cloud of dark gold hair.
From the corner of his eye he spotted Matt going very still, then looking away quickly. Interesting. “Uh, hi,” the man muttered.
“Sorry. You were shouting. Kind of hard to ignore it.” The merman padded over to them, holding out a huge hand. “I didn’t get a chance to introduce myself. I’m Finn.”
Nick shook his hand. “Well, that’s appropriate.”
Finn chuckled once. “I know, right?” He offered his hand to Matt. “Thank you for taking us in. You’ve got my eternal gratitude for that.”
“No problem.” Matt’s voice was slightly strangled as he shook the mer’s hand. “Do you want me to get you some pants? I think I have a pair of sweats that’ll fit you.”
Finn glanced down at himself. “Sure, why not?”
“Okay.” Stumbling just a little, Matt headed out of the kitchen, Scotch glass still in hand. Cheerful, Finn watched him go. “He’s cute.”
“Yeah, I guess.” Thanks to his agapetos Nick already knew that most mers were bisexual. “How’s your friend?”
Finn sobered. “Still sleeping. He’s not used to swimming that far. I told him to stay behind, but…” He grimaced. “Damn Fae. Stubborn as all hell.”
“How did you wind up with the Oracle, anyway?”
Now the big mer looked uncomfortable. “We’d gone to him to get some advice. When we got there, he told us the price for it would be us escorting him here. I wanted Duncan to stay at the cave, but he insisted on coming along.”
From his accent, Nick placed him as somewhere along the upper East coast. Swimming back and forth across the Atlantic Ocean was something a mer could do, albeit with effort. But to have a seal, even a magical one, in tow turned it into something impressive. “How are you feeling?”
Finn spread his hands. “I’m fine. Hungry. Worried about Duncan. Is the Oracle all right?”
“I haven’t had a chance to go check on him yet. I was going to go do that now. Will you be okay if I leave you here?”
“Oh, sure.” Finn glanced in the direction Matt had taken. “He’s not going to shoot me or have me stuffed and mounted, right?”
“I think his mind is on other things at the moment.”
“Then I’m good. And thank you again for taking care of Duncan.”
The sudden tenderness in his voice said a lot about his relationship with the selkie. Nick was used to unusual hookups happening on the cove, but a mer and a Fae getting together was something he wanted to hear about later on. “If anything goes wrong, I’m in the yellow cottage own the beach. Come get me, okay?”
“I will.”
Nick headed out, wondering how well Matt was going to adjust to his new reality.
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Mid Week Tease: Lady of Thorns #MidWeekTease #MWTease
Hello, lovelies! This is the last snippet from the third book in my Two Thrones series Lady of Thorns that I’ll be teasing you with. And I mean that this time!
Many thanks to Angelica Dawson for hosting us, and make sure to hit the list after the teaser to see other great Mid Week Teases!
Amelie held up the missive. “I received a letter from Marcus, of all people.”
“Oh? What does he have to say?”
Clearing her throat, she read:
My dear Amelie:
I’ve just received word of your upcoming wedding to Counselor LaPorte. Allow me to pass along my best wishes, as well as an explanation for my hasty departure in the spring. As you know, I left Illium due to my dear brother Antonious’s clumsy efforts to frame me for his attempted assassination. I had hoped that my grandmother would temper matters at the palace, but it seems that Antonious is still determined to see me dead, and had sent assassins to Lierdhe to achieve this. I was able to dispatch them with Roylus’s help, but I couldn’t bear the thought of putting yourself or your good lady mother in danger so I decided to leave and take any further threat with me. Please know that I will always have the greatest affection for you, and if LaPorte puts a foot out of line I will be pleased to sweep you away and make you the happiest woman on the continent, as well as the richest.
All my love,
Marcus
She laid the letter aside and slid down into Alain’s waiting arms. “So he didn’t leave because of me. Well, not because of my looks, in any case. I feel a bit guilty now for being so angry at him when all he was doing was protecting me.”
Alain kissed her temple. “Don’t feel bad. I’m afraid our friend will always have an adventurous life, what with his family and all. If he truly does care about you, the best thing he could do for you is take the target off your back.”
“Which he has.” She slid her leg up his. “As long as you keep me happy, of course. Who knows, I might enjoy being the kept woman of a robber baron or whatever scheme Marcus is pursuing these days.”
“Oh, really.” Alain clambered over her, giving her a firm kiss. “Is that a challenge, my lady?”
She grinned up at him. “I do believe it is, counselor. What are you going to do about it?”
“Well, clearly I need to stop my wayward bride-to-be from looking elsewhere for her pleasure.” He slid a hand underneath her pillow and pulled out pieces of soft cotton rope. “Perhaps if I tied you to the bed and drove you insane with pleasure, that might keep you from straying?”
A delightfully wicked heat flared to life inside her. “Perhaps,” she drawled. “But you’ll have to be very forceful to hold my attention. I’m quite strong-willed, you know.”
“Yes, I’m quite aware of that,” he drawled back. Plucking up one of her hands, he tied one end of a rope around it, then bound it to the headboard. “Luckily for me I’m equally as strong-willed. Quite a match for you, don’t you think?” Repeating the process on her other hand, he tugged the bedcovers from her body before sliding down the mattress with more ropes. He secured her ankles to the footboard, siting back to admire his work. “There. You’ll be hard-pressed to chase after Marcus like that, sweetheart.”
She squirmed in her bonds, enjoying the soft but firm grip on her limbs. Pretending to yawn, she arched her back, letting her nipples rub against the thin fabric of her nightgown. “Oh dear. It seems that I’ve been captured by the most dangerous, vicious street rat ever to stalk the streets of Mons. Whatever shall a poor, innocent noblewoman do?”
“Surrender to her captor, of course.” Running his fingertips along her calf in a ticklish caress, he stroked the underside of her knee. “Especially as he plans on ravishing your helpless body.” His fingers trailed upwards, dragging the hem of her gown up and exposing her spread thighs and the fluff of dark curls between them. “Look what we have here. Could this be where her ladyship hides her secret treasure?”
Amelie tossed her head, fully into her imaginary role now. “You’ll never make me give in, villain. Never!”
“We’ll see about that.” His fingers dipped between her legs, stroking and teasing. “It seems you like this, you naughty girl. You’re wet as a spring shower.”
She held in a giggle, relishing the way he played with her slick outer lips and clitoris. “Nonsense. I hate everything about it.”
Smirking, Alain leaned down and kissed her mound before shifting his oral attentions to her damp, aching flesh. Amelie wished he’d gagged her because the way his tongue was dancing on her clitoris promised to bring her to climax quickly and very strongly. Dammit, and Sibeal and Tomas are in the next room, and Maman and Stefan are down the corridor. It’s not fair!
Just as she was about to tumble over the edge, he stopped, blowing a cool breath over her. “Not yet. Not until I say, my lady.”
She whined, raising her hips in a silent plea, but he ignored it in favor of scattering kisses and nibbles on her inner thighs. Once her passion had ebbed sufficiently, he returned to his efforts, sliding two fingers inside her and adding a wonderful massaging tease to the sensual work being performed by his lips and tongue.
He backed off twice more, leaving her more and more wound up until she was straining against the ropes and biting her lip deep enough to taste blood. “Alain, please,” she finally begged in a ragged voice. “I can’t stand this anymore!”
He lifted his head, licking her wetness off his lips. “You don’t climax until I say so,” he murmured. “And quite frankly, I don’t think I’ll be letting you do it anytime soon. If I do, you’ll just get up and run after Marcus.”
“I won’t, I swear it,” she gasped. “I’m yours, now and forever.”
He kissed her clitoris and she shuddered at the sensation, so powerful now that it was just this side of pain. “Mm, still not convinced. You’ll have to do better than that.”
“How?” It came out as an embarrassing wail.
“Tell me how beautiful you are.”
She stared down at him, momentarily drawn out of her erotic haze. “What?”
He rested his chin on her mound. “Tell me that you’re beautiful. Make me believe that you believe it. You do that, and I’ll let you climax.”
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Mid Week Tease: Gentleman Jackson #MidWeekTease #MWTease
Hello, lovelies! This week I’m teasing you with the last snippet from “Gentleman Jackson,” the hot hitman on the run story that will be appearing in Evernight’s new Lawless antho.
Many thanks to Angelica Dawson for hosting us, and make sure to hit the list after the teaser to see other great Mid Week Teases!
There was something about knowing people wanted her dead that kicked her libido into high gear. Feeling wicked, Ria guided Colton back to the bedroom, urging him into a sitting position on the edge of the bed. She untied the knot on her robe belt and let the terrycloth slide free.
His eyes darkened in need as he eyed her nude body. “Oh, yeah. So fucking gorgeous, baby girl.”
“So are you, papi.” She coaxed his knees apart and knelt, studying the thick bulge that poked through his dress pants. No underwear held it down, and she could see the thick mushroom head against the fine wool cloth.
Dios, she missed this. She loved giving head, taking a man’s dick in her mouth and driving him wild with her lips and tongue. She wanted to taste Colton’s cock and see if it was as yummy as the rest of him.
She unzipped his fly and the head popped through immediately, as if searching for her mouth. She leaned forward, licking a broad stripe up from the base to just below the plummy head, under the corona where a man had a sensitive triangle of flesh. She teased it with the tip of her tongue, wanting to learn what pleased him.
He leaned back on his hands, watching her. “That’s it, baby girl. Suck it. Yeah.”
Following his lead, she took the head in her mouth, careful to cover her teeth with her lips. He was so big that there was barely enough room to swirl her tongue over the smooth, rounded head. The tiny slit in the center wept salt into her mouth and she swallowed, enjoying the fresh taste.
There was no way she would be able to deep throat Colton. Instead, she wrapped her hand around his shaft, fingertips just barely meeting her thumb, and brought the ring of her fingers to her lips. She started bobbing her head, careful to breathe through her nose while she sucked and slurped the thick flesh in her mouth. Veins throbbed against her tongue and she could taste more pre-cum as she brought her left hand up and wrapped it below her right, giving him the illusion of an impossibly long, tight throat.
He’d started cursing softly, running thick fingers through her hair but not trying to press her head down or control it. She was getting wet from sucking him off, but feeling him strain for control made her pussy clench in greedy need. His cock stiffened even further and his balls started to pull up in their sac as he chanted, “Baby, please, stopstopstop.”
She pulled her mouth off, licking her lips. “Getting close?”
“Yeah. Don’t get me wrong, I wanna come in your mouth, but not right now.”
That worked for her. She scrabbled for the remaining condom packets on the night stand, opening one and sliding the latex sheath over him. “On your back, caballero. I’m taking you for a ride.”
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Mid Week Tease: Gentleman Jackson #MidWeekTease #MWTease
Hello, lovelies! This week I’m teasing you with a another snippet from the short story “Gentleman Jackson,” which will be in Evernight Publishing’s new romance anthology Lawless. Colton Jackson is a hitman from Shreveport, Louisiana who accepts a contract on a shady Dallas lawyer, but when the lawyer’s secretary witnesses the hit things get complicated. It doesn’t help that Ria Guzman turns out to be the younger sister of one of the most powerful gang leaders in the US. What’s a gentleman hitman to do? Take her into his own form of “protective custody,” of course.
Many thanks to Angelica Dawson for hosting us, and make sure to hit the list after the teaser to see other great Mid Week Teases!
Colton pulled his hand out, tugging at her rucked skirt. “Take this off, baby girl.”
Obediently Ria wiggled out of it, sprawling naked across her bedspread. He gazed in admiration, drinking in her beauty. “Letting a woman like you wear clothes is a downright sin. You’re meant to be as bare as Eve, and just as beautiful.”
“Thank you. I think.” She poked at him with a toe. “So why are you still dressed?”
She had a point. Kicking off his shoes, he skinned out of his shirt and tie, then paused with a hand on his belt buckle. “Hold on.”
He slid the gun and silencer out from the back of his waistband, considering the room. Leaving it on the bedside table where she could reach it was asking for trouble, but putting it on the dresser was farther than he liked. He compromised by pushing down his pants and briefs in one tangled bundle, leaving them on the floor and placing the gun on top. His newly released cock bobbed and he swore he heard the damn thing sigh in relief.
Ria’s eyes widened as she took in his pride and joy. “Mierda. What are you, part bull?”
“Bullheaded, according to my momma.” He wrapped a hand around his cock, squeezing firmly. The veins stood out even more and the head swelled, looking like a dark red mushroom over the thick shaft. “Told you I’m gonna make you come at least two more times. And this is gonna help me do just that.”
She squirmed on the soft bedspread, staring at him as she unconsciously rubbed her thighs together. “I don’t know. That thing’s a monster.”
“Don’t worry about a thing. Remember, I had my tongue in your pussy. I know you can take it.” He slipped a hand between her thighs, urging them wider and paddling his fingers in the sticky wetness coating her flesh. She was tight, yeah, but she wasn’t a virgin. As long as he went slow and let her get used to him, it would be all right.
He rolled between her legs, letting his cock rest in her warm cleft as he push-dragged it across her clit. Her eyes closed in pleasure and he was tempted to do the same, but it was too sweet watching her react to him. She coated him in her wetness, and he was about to slide back and start easing his way in when her eyes flew open. “Wait. Condom.”
“Damn. Hold on.” Rolling to the edge of the bed, he fumbled for his wallet and the three-pack he always kept there. Pulling one of the squares free, he opened it and fished out the XL condom, rolling it down over his aching shaft.
Getting back into position, he reached down and guided the tip of his latex-covered cock between her pussy lips into tight, wet heaven.
She sucked in a breath, wincing at the stretch. Fighting his eagerness, he slowed down, letting her get used to his girth. Inch by inch, he buried himself inside her in increments until she was snugged down around him. “Good?”
Her hips rolled experimentally, and she gave him a sunburst smile. “Uh-huh.”
“Thank Christ, because my head’s about to explode.”
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Mid Week Tease: Lady of Thorns #MidWeekTease #MWTease
Hello, lovelies! This week I’m teasing you with yet another snippet from the third book in my Two Thrones series, Lady of Thorns. By this point Alain’s sensual education of Amelie has progressed admirably — perhaps too admirably. I believe a certain lawyer’s heart may be thawing just a bit towards his fractious, sexy student, muwahahaha…
Many thanks to Angelica Dawson for hosting us, and make sure to hit the list after the teaser to see other great Mid Week Teases!
Alain had set Colombe onto the task of procuring some soft cotton rope. His clerk had performed admirably as usual, and a hank of the stuff, neatly cut into useful lengths, now resided under the pillows.
But erotic restraint required a certain mindset for both parties to enjoy it, and he’d nettled Amelie with his questions about young Vandenberghe. His concern was honest; the earl’s heir was certainly handsome enough, and his blood made him an appropriate candidate for the Lady’s Consort, but there were neither shared interests nor frisson between Amelie and Vandenberghe the Younger. A pretty face would pall if there was nothing interesting behind it; with that lack of connection, Alain feared that Amelie would wind up turning to a lover for comfort within the first year.
And it won’t be me. By that point he would be back in Mons, pursuing his legal career and his next bed partner. There was nothing more than physical attraction between the two of them, he was aware of that, but he was surprised to find that he wanted her … happy.
He tugged her into his arms, brushing a soft kiss across her lips. She responded, molding against him with that mind-melting ease that made him re-consider the hidden ropes. No, another time. I know what I want to do with my spirited little minx tonight.
He eased the nightgown from her shoulders, kissing them as each one was bared. “Have you ever heard of soixante-neuf?”
She blinked up at him. “I have not. I wasn’t aware there were that many positions.”
“It’s not a number so much as a description of what the participants look like.” He smiled at her confused expression. “Let me remove my clothes and I’ll demonstrate.”
He stripped quickly, laying his breeches and shirt across the footboard of the bed while Amelie crawled onto the golden velvet bedspread. The color lent a glow to her pale skin and dark hair, making her look like an otherworldly goddess waiting to receive her due devotion. He felt himself thicken in anticipation, but didn’t try to encourage his erection more than that.
He joined her on the bed, stretching out in such a way that they were roughly top to tail. It gave him a wonderful view of the dark moss that crowned her mound, with a hint of the feminine cleft at the bottom. “This position allows the participants to enjoy each other orally at the same time.”
“I see.” She reached out and stroked his shaft, running a fingertip around the edge of the head. “Oh, I see. Sixty-nine. Yes, we would look like the numbers, wouldn’t we?”
“Indeed.” He leaned forward and rubbed his nose against her crispy curls, following it up with a kiss. He could already smell her desire, warm and humid, and looked forward to dipping his tongue in her honey. “Granted, it’s not as straightforward as lying back and receiving your lover’s attentions and then returning the favor, but I find the distraction rather useful in extending the festivities.”
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Mid Week Tease: Lady of Thorns #MidWeekTease #MWTease
Hello, lovelies! This week I’m back to Lady of Thorns for my teasing snippet (mainly because I’m on deadline to finish it by Friday and yeah, WHEE). Amelie is back in Alain’s bedroom for more one-on-one instruction when he mentions an, um, advanced course of study. Ahem.
Oh, and yes, that is a Star Wars in-joke there. I do love my meta pop culture references…
Many thanks to Angelica Dawson for hosting us, and make sure to hit the list after the teaser to see other great Mid Week Teases!
Alain got to his feet when he heard the scratching on the door. It opened and Amelie peered around the oak panel. “May I come in?”
He couldn’t stop the curl of anticipation that went through him. “Yes, please.”
Tonight she wore the same plain wrapper she had the night before, but when she undid the belt and let it slide off her shoulders he almost swallowed his tongue. Underneath she wore a short, silky gown of pale yellow with a low décolletage that framed her collarbones and the subtle curves of he breasts. Lower down it clung to her hips, and he imagined he could see the pink dots of her nipples and the dark fluff at the tops of her thighs through the delicate material.
“I’d forgotten I had this,” she admitted, draping the wrapper over a chair and walking into his arms. “It’s one of my ceremonial gowns from when I was younger. Do you like it?”
The way he was rapidly swelling in his breeches was physical proof of that, and he pressed his groin against her. “You are absolutely luscious. Although I have to wonder why a girl was wearing something so revealing.”
“It was an overgown. I wore a white chemise underneath.” She draped her arms around his neck and sighed happily. “Although I have to say, I much prefer wearing it this way. It’s extremely soft, don’t you think?”
He groaned as she executed a little shimmy against his throbbing cock. “You’re a minx, woman. It’s soft and very lovely, but I’d much rather be touching your skin.”
“I see.” Another wiggle. “The nice thing about this gown, counselor, is that it’s short. Quite easy to lift.”
He was never one to overlook a hint. Sliding his hands down, he gathered the hem of the gown and pulled it up until he’d bared her firm, silky rump. “If you continue to be this naughty, I may have to spank this beautiful bottom of yours.”
The glint in her eye turned challenging. “You might find that something of a challenge.”
He stroked the lovely curves, gently pinching one. “Not if I tied you to my bed first.”
A soft inhalation and a widening of her eyes was his answer. Interesting. She likes a bit of spice with her lovemaking. “Would you enjoy that?” he purred.
“I … I don’t know.” But her sped-up breathing and the color in her face indicated otherwise.
Tying a beautiful woman up and turning her into a writhing bundle of sexual need was one of his favorite activities. “I’d be very careful and use the softest ropes so that your skin wouldn’t carry a mark. But you wouldn’t be able to move when I was done. You would be completely at my mercy, your body turned into my own personal playground. And believe me, Amelie, I would play with you for hours until you begged me for release.”
She shivered deliciously at his words. “I don’t know if I could stay quiet if you did that.”
“Oh, a soft cotton gag would mute any noise you made.”
“Then how could I beg you?”
He brushed his lips over her ear. “You would whimper, of course. Widen your eyes and plead with me silently. Strain against your bonds towards my hands, my mouth, my cock. There are all kinds of ways you can beg without words.”
That lovely scent of fruit and cream from her skin deepened, taking on a hot note of mulled cider, and she squirmed. “You’re a wicked man, counselor.”
“Mm, I know.” He pushed his thigh between hers, gently rubbing against her heated flesh. “It’s why you like me, my lady. You need more wicked men in your life.”
She groaned as his hands cupped her ass, squeezing. “I like nice men, too.”
“I can be nice. Allow me to demonstrate.”
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Nicola Cameron Writes 