Friday, July 30, 2010

Summer Of The Cougar by Nicole Austin

Ellora's Cave

A standalone title in the Cougar Challenge series.

With the big four-oh looming, Larissa Cross is more than ready to shed the roles that have defined her and make drastic changes. Gone are the widowed Army wife, soccer mom and empty nester. She’s even setting aside the school teacher until fall. 
A naughty challenge issued by fellow erotic romance booklovers on their blog, Tempt the Cougar, has come at the perfect time and ignited Rissa’s competitive drive. It’s going to be a glorious summer full of hot younger man lovin’ for a new cougar on the prowl. Rawr!

Tattooed and pierced fireman JD Harmon is tempting prey but there’s much more to the hunk than his bad boy good looks. A one-night stand isn’t in his plans and sex—no matter how mind-blowing—won’t distract him from his goals. JD intends to tame the wicked cougar and stake a claim on her heart.

The spicy scent of chorizo and onions grilling in the skillet had her stomach growling. She scrambled in some eggs and raisins then the completed dish went into the warm oven along with a plate of fresh tortillas. Earlier she’d made salsa and set the table. But she was hungry for more than food. Rissa had every intention of getting JD on the menu.

She headed for her laptop to check email when someone knocked on the door. Glancing at the clock she noted how fast he’d made the drive. She started talking as she opened the door. “Wow, you made good ti—”

The sight of JD waiting on her doorstep, smiling at her broadly, had the words dying in her dry throat as Rissa nearly swallowed her tongue. She’d imagined how he’d look out of the uniform. Her imagination had nothing on reality.

Washed so many times the material was nearly threadbare, his blue T-shirt bore the fire department emblem and lovingly conformed to his chiseled torso. Intricate lines of a black tattoo that accentuated his huge biceps disappeared under his left sleeve. She longed to trace all those twisting, twirling lines with the tip of her tongue, and contemplated how much skin they covered.

He’d tucked the shirt into a faded pair of low-riding shorts that failed to disguise the thick bulge that extended all the way to his left hip. Saliva flooded her mouth and she wondered how he’d taste. Her breasts felt swollen and heavy, and with each ragged breath her rock-hard nipples rasped against her top. Shifting her weight from one foot to the other, Rissa realized more than her mouth had gotten wet.

“Damn, honey. You’re even more beautiful than I remembered.”

He lifted his right hand and held out a red fire extinguisher bearing a festive streamer of multi-colored ribbons. How had she failed to notice the large red cylinder dangling from his fist? “I brought you a present.”

“Um…thanks.” Rather unique gift.

“When you get another car, I want you to put that in the trunk so I’ll know you’re safe.”


The sweet gesture left her speechless. For several long moments she stared into his dark eyes. Reflected in their depths she saw the potential for a future. A long-lasting relationship.

Rissa shook her head to dispel the rather disturbing idea. She wanted to live, have fun, sample all the different flavors she’d never tasted—not tie herself to one man. No matter how sweet and sexy and thoughtful he may be.

Breakfast. They were supposed to be having breakfast.

“Come on in.” Stepping back from the door, she allowed him to enter her home. Not sure what else to do with it, she put his gift in the hall closet. Turning back toward him she said, “I hope you’re hungry. I cooked—”

The breath rushed from her lungs as her back came up against the wall. Warmth and JD’s masculine scent enveloped her as his hard body fitted against her soft curves. It was a glorious fit. His body caged hers and his fingers tangled in her hair, holding her in place.

“I’m starved.” His voice rumbled close to her ear. “For you.” Then his lips, soft yet firm, brushed along her jaw, moving slowly toward her mouth. She could have ducked or turned her head away. Longing for his kiss, she did neither. At the first touch of his lips to hers, Rissa spontaneously combusted. Fire raced across her skin and her blood turned to molten lava. From head to toe she burned and her toes curled into the carpet.

Dios, she might need that fire extinguisher to put out the flames.

He claimed her mouth in a scorching hot kiss and her lips opened wide, inviting him inside. JD accepted her summons. His tongue thrust into her mouth, slid against hers and she moaned as his bold and sweet taste washed over her like warm, delicious honey. Without conscious thought, her arms wrapped around his neck and she clung to him.

JD took over, exploring her mouth with his tongue, drinking down her needy moans and whimpers. Her breasts were crushed against his chest and everywhere they touched, from shoulder to knee, his body heat left a wake of desire licking at her skin.

She had never been so thoroughly and completely kissed. And if the shudders that shook his body were any indication, she wasn’t alone. Their kiss had the same potent effect on him.

The heady mating of their mouths ended way too soon. Resting his forehead against hers, JD stared into her eyes as they both struggled to find solid footing. Her body hummed with desire, aching and ready for more. She wanted so much more.

“Damn, baby,” he panted. “You’re burning me alive.”

Burning him? He’s the one who started the inferno. He damn well needed to do something other than stare at her. Preferably something involving the long, thick erection that had left its impression branded over her abdomen.

“Now that we have the first kiss out of the way, we can relax and enjoy breakfast.”

Wednesday, July 28, 2010

My Three Lords by Juniper Bell

My Three Lords
by Juniper Bell

How is one innocent country girl to choose between a Duke, a Marquis and an Earl? Must she?

When Miss Alicia Silverwood marries the Earl of Dorchester, he whisks her off to Notre Plaisir, a country manor where erotic surprises await in the company of three powerful lords.

The young Earl needs a wife and heir. The cynical Marquis de Beaumont needs a playmate. And the commanding Duke of Warrington needs a reason to live. As for the new Lady Dorchester, she’s about to discover the true nature of her own sensual needs. On top of that, she’s falling in love.

It might take a miracle for Lady Alicia and her three lords to come to an arrangement that makes them all happy. Or perhaps all that’s required is a little scandalous rule-breaking.

Reader Advisory: Contains an m/m/f/m ménage with brief m/m sex, as well as a deflowering and much sweet loving.


Copyright © JUNIPER BELL, 2010

All Rights Reserved, Ellora's Cave Publishing, Inc.

“I make you two promises, Alicia. The first is that I shall not take your maidenhead. Only one man may do so, and that is your husband. The second is that tonight you will experience more pleasure than you’ve ever imagined, thanks to me. If the Earl were here tonight, you’d receive no gentle caresses, no stroking such as I intend to give you. Your nipples would be left untouched, save for a rough tweak or two. Whereas I intend to savor their sweetness and watch them stand to attention like pink sentinels of your desire.”

Pinned as if I were a helpless butterfly, I lost myself in the soothing cadence of his speech. I became aware of the heat and strength of his body, and an unfamiliar tingling in my belly.

“You may think you prefer the Earl, but you’d regret it deeply. Your deflowering would be painful rather than pleasurable. Harsh rather than sweet. Such an event in a young girl’s life should bring tears of joy along with the tears of pain. That is what I offer, and the Earl, cognizant of your best interests as well as his own, has allowed me to provide this service. Do you understand?”

I nodded, and when he didn’t respond, whispered, “Yes.”

“Then come. Rise now.”

The weight lifted off me and he helped me to my feet. When I stood facing him, I saw a look such as I’d never seen on his jaded face before. He looked almost tender. Slowly, gently, he traced the skin along the edge of my loosened stays. I felt a prickling in the tips of my breasts. When I looked down at myself, my nipples were just as he said, pink and standing up under the layers of undergarments. He hooked his finger in the busk between my breasts. My breath caught.

“I won’t proceed further unless I have your full consent. Despite my reputation, I am not in the habit of forcing my attentions on unwilling girls. I must know that you accept what I’m offering you, fully and completely.”

His black gaze seared into me, as if he could see all the hidden corners of my soul. And perhaps he could, because God help me, I wanted the things he’d promised, and more. I wanted to lie down on the bed and roll myself in the bedclothes, or strip off my chemise and run outside under the stars. I didn’t fully understand what was happening to me. My body felt heavy and yet light at the same time.

“I do,” I whispered. “I accept.”

His eyes glittered in the candlelight. I felt dizzy. For a moment, I was back in the barn at home, caught with a goatherd’s hand hovering over my breast. I’d looked up in alarm at the sound of soft laughter. The sight of the Marquis’ delighted, mocking smile had turned me to stone.

There had been another feeling as well, a charge in the air that had made my skin prickle.

I felt it again as his eyes deliberately consumed my body, top to toe. Under my eyelashes, I performed an inspection of my own. The Marquis was not a bad-looking man, slender of build, perhaps a head taller than myself. As always, he was dressed in the height of fashion, with an embroidered cream waistcoat and a splendid coat of dark blue superfine that fit him to perfection. He always appeared to be mocking the world around him, but over the years I had on occasion seen him perform small kindnesses that surprised me.

“There has always been a special feeling between us, has there not?” As he spoke, he deftly removed my stays until I stood in nothing more than my chemise. I shivered at his nearness. Not for the first time, I thought what a powerful man he was, not in physique but in presence…a powerful man inclined to darkness.

He picked up a candle and slowly walked around me, shining its light on my body. The warmth from the candle paled in comparison to the penetrating weight of his gaze. I fixed my eyes on the pretty dressing table on the far side of the room. I counted five silver-backed brushes and considered attempting to count the individual bristles to distract myself from the strange feelings stealing over me.

A gentle touch on my posterior made me start. His hand cupped my bottom and warmth flooded my being. How could such a simple touch create such an uproar within me? With a firm hand and wandering fingers, he stroked my flesh. I felt the back of my chemise inch up my legs. The feel of his fingertips roaming across the backs of my thighs was so exquisite, I closed my eyes so the pleasure would continue.

“Ah no, my dear, you are not allowed to close your eyes. I want you to fully comprehend that it is I, the dreaded Marquis de Beaumont, who is bringing you this enjoyment. Whose hands are now stroking your tender buttocks?”

Tendrils of fire seemed to spread across my bottom as he quickened his touch. “Yours,” I gasped.

“And who intends to remove this interfering chemise from your body?”

My throat became suddenly parched. If he removed my chemise, I would be naked before the most notorious rake in England. “You,” I whispered. “But, please…”

“Yes?” His fingers danced up the curve of my spine and my belly seemed to quiver in response. Cool air caressed my back as he drew up the chemise. “Ah, so lovely. I’ve waited a very long time for this moment.”

I clutched the front of it to my chest. My head was such a confusing swarm of thoughts, I didn’t know what I wanted to say. Please continue. Stop this instant. The two opposite impulses battled in my mind. “Why me?” I managed. “Why a long time?”

“Why you?” My question did not make him pause in his intrusions on my body. Every inch of exposed skin drew a caress or a pat from his relentless, curious, knowing hands. Every touch sent a cascade of shivers across my flesh. “I’m sure you don’t remember, but you first caught my eye as a girl dashing after your brothers. You ran directly into me, like a Spanish bull into a cape. I have been accustomed to find myself a figure of fright for young girls. But you seemed to have no fear of me. I plucked you off the ground and held you high. You looked back at me with those frank eyes of yours, whose color I find no words for, somewhere in the mysterious realm between gray and blue, and you said, quite simply, “You were directly in my path. You will please to put me down now.” And so I did, and watched, bemused, as you raced away to join your brothers. At that moment I knew you were an unusual girl.”

By this time he was in front of me, loosing my hands from their grip on my chemise. I looked up at him and found myself surprised by a hint of softness in his usually sharp eyes.

“This chemise,” he told me softly, “can hide nothing from me. I know your soul, ma chérie, perhaps better than you do yourself. You desire things you cannot name. You sense it in the springtime air, the moonlight over a stream, the scent of lilacs in the sunshine. The world promises you something just beyond your senses, something you cannot grasp, simply because you don’t yet know how. I will show you how, my dear.”

Wednesday, July 21, 2010

What She Needs by Cris Anson

What She Needs
by Cris Anson
Ellora's Cave

Older widow Delia Barnes greets fellow authors before an erotic romance convention sporting a black eye, which she explains away with “I didn’t say ‘Yes Master’ quick enough.” Sitting at the bar, burned-out ad executive and former Dom Kurt Reinhardt overhears that comment once too often and interrupts to suggest, “Maybe you need a new Master.”

Urged by her friends to accept the younger man’s invitation to learn some D/s basics—hey, an author needs to do her research, right?—Delia joins him to get first-hand experience at being submissive, starting with removing her panties in a corner booth. Later, she learns more than she bargained for when she spends a weekend at Kurt’s home with his eager business partner added to the mix.

But an innocent misstep brings Delia’s world crashing down around her. Can she trust Kurt with her heart…and her life?

Reader Advisory: Delia gets up close and personal with a delectable m/f/m ménage.


“A woman could get spoiled very quickly here.”

He moved in close, kissed her temple. “Exactly what I had in mind.”

His scent, an exotic spice—applewood smoke and fresh air—intoxicated her. “Kurt…”

“I know. I can’t wait another second.” He lifted the glass from her nerveless fingers and set it as well as his own on a side table. His thumbs caressed her cheeks as his fingers tunneled through her hair. “I’ve been wanting to do this for a whole week now.”

“Kurt,” she repeated, her ability to string two words together suddenly deserting her.

They were almost of a height with her three-inch black pumps and his bare feet. His gaze bored deeply into hers, and it felt as if he were staring into her soul, searching for her most profound yearnings. The intimate penetration caused her lower lip to tremble. His eyes snapped to the subtle movement and he moved those last few millimeters between them and touched his mouth to hers.

Tiny explosions detonated around her lips and she softened, opened to his touch. His tongue took instant advantage, exploring the perimeter then stroking over hers, thrusting and sucking in turn until she was wild to feel him aligned against her. Yet he held himself apart, nothing touching except their lips, and his hands in her hair.

So Delia took the initiative. She snaked her arms around Kurt’s waist and arched her back, rubbing against him, thighs to thighs, hips to hips, silently berating her lack of foresight in not removing her suit jacket when she’d handed him her car coat. She wanted to feel his chest against her breasts, skin against skin. Heat bloomed inside her, seeking an answering heat. After all the phone sex she was primed for the real thing. His kisses, the solid reality of his body against hers, were dangerous to her sanity.

“Delia.” Kurt’s voice was ragged, his erection pressing hard against her as he took her upper arms in his grip and gently disengaged their bodies.

“We have all weekend,” he continued smoothly, apparently having regained his control. “I will teach you that a little anticipation, a little withholding of ecstasy, can be most rewarding.”

She couldn’t suppress a delectable shiver at the thought. Her only worry was what his reaction would be when he saw her body with its more than four decades of wear and tear. Not that she lacked self-confidence. She had it to spare. But this was entirely new territory for her.

“You’re cold,” he said. “I’m a terrible host. Here, let’s get you into the Jacuzzi. I’ve set it at ninety-nine degrees. Did you bring a swimsuit? Or would you be comfortable lolling around in your birthday suit?”

Delia blinked. This was the moment of truth. Was she a cougar or not? Did she want sex with this man or not?

Go for it! She could hear Judith urging her to grab the brass ring. Still, he was the first man she’d kissed—and what a toe-curling kiss it was!—since Robert died four years ago, and no one else had seen her naked in twenty-two years.

“Delia. Your Master is asking you to remove your jacket and skirt. Will you do that for me?”

Yes. That’s what she needed, to have the decision taken from her after all the myriad decisions she’d made at the office. And that’s why, she reminded herself, she’d removed her prim white blouse just before leaving said office. She had to take a deep breath for this. Yes, she’d dressed for seduction, but actually doing it took all the nerve she could muster.

Slowly she undid the three fabric-covered buttons from her gray faux-suede jacket and slid it off her shoulders, revealing a silky, cobalt blue bra that molded her B cups perfectly to create a gentle cleavage. His eyes flared but he said nothing as he reached out a hand for the garment. She draped it over his arm.

“Now the skirt.”

She could do this, no sweat. Just think how all the other cougars would handle it. Undo button. Slide zipper down. Wiggle hips to let the skirt slither down her legs.

He inhaled a harsh breath.

A part of her rejoiced that she could elicit such a reaction from him at the sight of her. Thigh-high sheer gray stockings rode her long legs. Bikini panties, matching the bra, barely covered her scar.

Reaching out a hand to him for stability, she lifted one leg to remove a black stiletto.

“No. Not yet.”

Seeing the lust on his face made her spine straighten and gave her a much-needed shot of courage.

“Step out of the puddle of your skirt, take it to that chair in the corner and set it down. Then come back, walking slowly.”

Was that a wobble in his voice? Perhaps he wasn’t as unaffected as he portrayed.

As she followed his instructions, she couldn’t help but notice the involuntary sway of her hips, the catwalk saunter that suddenly felt the right way to walk, to tease Being an exhibitionist was a high she hadn’t expected.

“Sit here. On the edge of the tub.”

She did, lowering herself gracefully.

He knelt before her, lifted her left leg and slid her shoe off. Began to massage her foot, gently kneading her sole, the arch, each individual toe. Delia closed her eyes in bliss. His fingers strayed higher, to her calf, the back of her knee, the outer muscles of her thigh.

“Let’s get this off, shall we?”

Her eyes snapped open. He tugged at the elasticized lace garter, rolled the stocking down to her ankle. Then set his lips on the indentations of her skin where the elastic had constricted her all day. He licked and nipped, skimmed his fingertips across her mound as he massaged the skin.

The sight of his black-haired head so near her crotch sent a shock of cream drizzling through her pussy lips to dampen her panties.

“Don’t move, Delia.”

She didn’t even realize she had shifted her hips to bring his mouth closer to the spot between her legs that throbbed so heatedly.

After a few delicious minutes of torture, he moved to her right leg and performed the same combination of magic and teasing. Delia felt her breathing go shallow. He’d spread her legs and knelt between them. He couldn’t not smell her arousal, so close to the source was he.

“Delia. Delicious Delia. You smell of ambrosia.” Kurt’s fingers delved beneath the elastic of her cobalt panties, one hand on each side, and he slowly slid them toward each other. Hesitated. Continued until both index fingers met at the juncture that hid her clit.

“Bare. I like bare. Thank you, Delia, for that gift.” His fingers stroked abstract designs on the sensitive skin surrounding her nether lips, and Delia was glad she’d acted on a whim and shaved all of it, not just her bikini line.

Kurt dipped his head then, stroked her through her panties with firm pressure of his tongue. Delia almost jumped, but his grip on her thighs reminded her not to move. Such delicious torture, his mouth sucking, tongue delving, fingers probing, and she unable to flex her hips for more. She gripped the crown of the tub as she felt her muscles tense, her insides clench. Oh god, it felt so good, it had been so long, she was going to—

He leaned back, still on his knees. “Stand up.”

Friday, July 16, 2010

Deep In The Woods by Annabel Joseph

Deep In The Woods
by Annabel Joseph
Ellora's Cave

Sophie finally finds the courage to re-enter the Atlanta BDSM scene after extricating herself from an abusive relationship. At a local munch, she meets Dave, a funny, laid-back erotic photographer who’s new in town. When she sees him again later at the dungeon, Sophie is surprised by her strong feelings for him. Although she’s nervous about starting a new relationship, Dave takes her home and eases her fears. They embark on a sexy, thrilling D/s relationship and Sophie finds healing and fulfillment in Dave’s arms.

But Sophie is haunted by nightmares of her past. On a dark night in the woods with Dave and his friend Ryan, frightening memories overtake Sophie. She knows she must uncover the tragedy that haunts her subconscious to move on. Her quest for answers brings her face-to-face with her old tormentor, and Sophie finds herself not just fighting for answers, but for her life. Will Sophie ever make it out of the woods and find the peace she seeks?

Note: Contains m/f/m ménage scenes and brief but graphic violence.


He placed a fingertip against her lips. “I’m not assuming anything. I am telling you that if I kiss you…if I touch you tonight the way I want to…”

The way he was staring at her made it impossible to concentrate on his words. Her eyes dropped to his lips, full and sensual. His bottom lip was perfection, something to lick and nibble. Before she could stop herself, she drew her tongue across her own lips. His hand cupped her chin and his gaze forced her to focus. “Listen to me. If I kiss you… Sophie…” He leaned forward and she parted her lips with a sigh.

The moment his lips touched hers, she felt relief. She felt a peace that had eluded her for months, perhaps years. He held her face in his hands as his mouth possessed hers. The kiss quickly intensified and his tongue pushed into her mouth. He moved closer. His hands grasped her shoulders, then ran down her arms to pull her against his chest. The entire time, his lips never left hers. He tasted her eagerly, and his kiss was demanding. She felt possessed, challenged. He could master her and she knew it. He was letting her know he could master her if that was her desire.

Oh god. One hand moved up her back to twist in her hair. He pulled hard, sending thrills of stinging pain down the back of her neck and around to her flushed face. She arched her spine and moaned against his lips. It was not in her nature to beg, although she wanted to at that moment. She wanted to plead for what she wished. She wanted to prostrate herself before him. She wanted to surrender to the intensity and fire of his touch. His touch, his touch…his fingertips were trailing back down her arms, then to the hem of her dress. She broke away and looked around. The light. Not in the light. She pushed at his hand and he stopped and pulled back.

“What’s wrong?”

“I…can’t we…the light is so bright and…and your dog is staring at me. It’s kind of freaking me out. Can’t we…? I’m sorry…”

“Turn out the lights?”

She blushed, feeling like an idiot. “Can we please?”

“I would like to see you, Sophie. Your lovely body. Your beautiful eyes.”

She bit her lip, hating this moment, hating everything about it. She could run. She could just run out the door and… No. She didn’t want to run. But she couldn’t show her body to him, not at this moment. Later. She would deal with it later. And if he rejected her when he saw the scars, at least then she would have had one night to be with him.

“Please, Dave. I’m just shy. It’s been so long and…” She looked over at Cerby again, who was helping her case by gawking at them from a couple feet away. “Your dog is sweet but—”

“You’re telling me you’re embarrassed to get naked in front of my dog.”

“Yes.” Yes, and please believe me. Please just go along with this.

Dave sighed. “That’s really the problem? It’s not that you don’t want to get intimate tonight? Because hey, we just met. I’m fine with waiting. Really, Sophie, I am.”

Nooooo. “No, I want to. I’m just… I’m weird that way.” I’m weird. I’m weird. Don’t make me show you just how weird I am. “Maybe…maybe the first time would be better in the dark. So we can really feel each other. You know?”

He nodded, his fingers caressing her hip. “Depend on our other senses?”

“Yes, exactly.”

“Well, you realize I’m a photographer, that I’m very visual. We can always shut Cerby out of the bedroom. In fact, it would probably be a good idea.”

“I guess. I mean, we could. But something about me is that I really… I really like the dark. I really, really like darkness, especially when I’m feeling…”

“Scared?” he supplied when her voice got too tight to continue. “Are you feeling scared right now, Sophie?”

“Nervous,” she whispered. “Because I really want to be with you.”

He looked down at her trembling hands and then back at her face, and something in her expression must have caused him to relent.

“Okay. Only because the first time is always slightly scary. My bedroom is really dark with the lights off, you’ll like it. We can get to know each other by touch alone.”

* * * * *

Dave was fairly sure she wanted sex. He had scrutinized her, analyzed every signal. She was obviously aroused. Her cheeks were flushed and her body language was open and willing. He was ninety-nine percent sure she wanted sex.

And he was one hundred percent sure she wanted it in the dark.

Well, it would be a new and novel experience for him, sex in the dark. He liked girls under 500 watt photography lights. He liked to see everything, every mole, every muscle, every secret place. He liked to expose girls. He liked to make them see there was nothing they could hide.

But this one, she clearly needed to hide, at least for now. She would need to be introduced gradually to his particular brand of exposure. He would train her to it.

Now was not the time.

Her hand trembled as he led her into his bedroom and shut Cerberus out. He ignored the dog’s indignant whine. Cerb was never allowed in when Dave was with girls, because he sometimes took umbrage when Dave played rough. His canine instincts, while finely honed, could not always differentiate between moans of pleasure and pain. The first time the dog had nipped at Dave to stop him from “hurting” his partner, Dave had understood and hadn’t censured him. But for safety, he locked Cerb out now every time.

“There, no more staring dog,” he said, turning to Sophie with a grin. She returned his smile and looked around his bedroom. It wasn’t huge, but it didn’t need to be. He let her see it in the light, gave her a moment to look around. He watched her take in the king-size bed that took up the lion’s share of the space. And yes, the photography lights rigged in the corner. Cerberus’ dog bed, completely unused of course, took up another entire corner. A door on the right wall led to a bathroom. He went in to get some condoms, showing them to Sophie before he placed them on the bedside table.

“If we need them they’ll be there. We can do as much or as little as you like. I mean that, no pressure. I actually didn’t ask you here expecting you to fuck me.”

She looked away and then back at him, blushing. “I didn’t really come here to fuck you. But to be totally honest, there’s nothing in the world I want more right now.”

“To be totally honest, I hoped to God you would say those exact words.”

She giggled. She was so sweet, so beautiful. He thought of the terrible things he’d learned about her last relationship, and wondered how anyone could harm someone like her. He took her in his arms, his hands sliding around her slender waist to rest at the small of her back. He kissed her, reveling in the soft, tentative way she gave herself to him. He drew away to take one last look at her eyes before he turned out the lights. He saw so many things there in that luminous violet gaze. A jumble of emotions—fear, excitement, lust, happiness, sadness. He traced his thumbs over her delicate eyelids before dropping a kiss on each soft surface. Her long black eyelashes fluttered. Beautiful lost princess. Snow White in the forest.

“Sophie, you can trust me. I promise you can.”

“Okay.” Her voice trembled a little.

He turned out the lights and they both stood still. Darkness. It was true and total darkness. There was no moon to cast even soft light, just black empty space. No, not empty. He could feel her there beside him like a magnet. Elemental pull. His hands went to her of their own accord, drawn to her soft skin, her womanly curves. His fingers traced over her shoulders to grope for a zipper at the back of her neck and she bowed her head toward him. He felt her forehead come to rest against his chest. In the black darkness all his other senses were heightened. He could smell her fresh, flowery scent and feel the lightest brush of soft hair against the side of his chin.

He drew the zipper down and opened his hands on the skin of her back. His fingers nudged the dress down and off. He could barely make out the outline of the black bra against her pale skin as his eyes adjusted to the darkness. He reached for the clasp and undid it. She didn’t stop him, but he could feel she was tense. He stroked his fingers across her breasts, then cupped their weight. As the pads of his thumbs teased the taut peaks, he was finally rewarded with a shivery moan and the feel of her relaxing against him.

He skimmed her tights down over her hips, taking a moment to explore her curvy ass with his palms. No panties, just bare, smooth skin. It was impossible for him not to give her a couple tentative slaps. She gasped and pressed herself closer, reaching for him in the darkness. Her hands seemed at a loss for what to do, fluttering against him like lost birds. He took them hard and whispered, “Put them behind your back. Keep them there.”

That seemed to settle her. She did as he asked and stood still, her breathing even and measured. He took a few more moments to explore her exquisite ass cheeks, landing a few more smacks. Then he resumed pushing her tights all the way down her legs, his fingers tracing down thighs, knees, calves, ankles. Going by feel in the dark only made him appreciate the exquisite sensations more. He breathed in the faint scent of her arousal. Without thought, he used his thumb to probe the folds of her mons, finding hot slickness. She gave a low moan as he slid the pad of his thumb against her clit and then pressed and teased the sensitive nub. She reached for his shoulders and made a small hip movement forward.

“Hands,” he reminded her. Her hands left him and returned to the position he’d told her, but not before she sighed, “Oh, Dave…”

“Go get in bed.” He turned her in the right direction, guiding her with firm hands on her shoulders, then set to tearing off his own clothes, letting them fall in a heap at his feet. He slid in beside her, finding her by touch and scent. He clasped her, aligning her body to his. He trapped her hands behind her and found her lips in the dark.

God, she tasted wonderful, sweet. The way she kissed drove him mad, alternately tentative and eager. His cock poked against the front of her and she arched her hips forward in response. Dave was bursting. He had to be inside her. He explored her full breasts and hard nipples, then stroked down her thighs and parted her again. She was so wet. She moaned almost inaudibly as his fingers smoothed across her slick center. He wished he could see her eyes.

“Do you like when I touch you, Sophie?”

She sighed in reply.

“Yes or no?” he prompted. “Answer me.”

“Yes.” The word came out as a gasp.

Monday, July 12, 2010

Magenta Starling by Natalie Dae

by Natalie Dae

Cursed at birth, Dion is a demon who has searched for his beloved for centuries. Upon meeting Morgan, he knows she’s the one he’s been waiting for, the one woman he can love forever, the one woman capable of helping him break the curse. However, Jistin, the curse-giver, has other ideas…

Morgan longs for a relationship and release from her solitary life aboard her yacht, The Magenta Starling. She longs for Dion—who’s not all that he appears. When he reveals his feelings for her, Morgan allows Dion to take her to his world, the realm of Thradmos. Her love for him growing even as she struggles to accept his reality, Morgan realizes she would do anything for him—including give up her life in the real world.

At a party held in celebration of Dion’s impending freedom, Morgan is snatched away by Jistin. In a final battle, Dion will fight not only for his freedom, but also that of his beloved, lest he be cursed for all eternity…and lose Morgan in the process.

At anchor in the deepest part of the bay, Morgan’s large yacht, The Magenta Starling, bobbed intermittently on languid evening waves. Morgan stood on deck, leaned on the prow rail and took in the lit shoreline, a pitch sky the backdrop to golden lights. The ocean crept up the beach as though unsure of its welcome, yet retreated just as slowly. Music filtered from the bars and clubs, a cacophony of mingled beats, unrecognizable as any individual tune. A carnival atmosphere raged ashore, the same as every other summer night—nothing unusual for this part of the world, where holidaymakers partied hard and spent their cash fluidly.

Morgan smiled. If only they knew what their cash could buy here.

A taxi-boat chugged toward her yacht, the tall floodlights illuminating white foam in the smaller vessel’s wake. Morgan made out two occupants—the captain and her client. He’d telephoned earlier and requested an evening appointment, but she’d been fully booked this sultry Friday. As soon as the call had ended, her cell rang again—her last evening client cancelling. She’d contemplated another night alone before a rush of abandonment gripped her. She’d contacted Dion and informed him of the free slot.

Now she released a harsh laugh at the pun. She hadn’t been filled in a long time. Unwilling to give herself to just anyone, she rebuffed any offers from clients wishing to include sex with their spankings. No. She wanted a genuine relationship, not men who visited her for what they couldn’t get at home.

Morgan sighed and ousted the dismal thoughts. Tonight she would once again play a part. The role of a woman in total control. And revel at being in Dion’s company.

The boat drew nearer, so she straightened and smoothed the front of her dress. Unusual for a client to request a little black frock that wasn’t made of rubber, but Dion always did. Still, she wasn’t complaining. Her normal attire would have been hell to work in tonight. The heat still lingered despite the cooler breeze, an almost stubborn refusal to be gone and give respite. She wiggled her toes in strappy black sandals and peered at the boat as it chugged alongside hers with a splutter-chug-burp. The captain waved and smiled, his gap-toothed grin dull in a face tanned deeply by the merciless sun. Dion stood, his back to her, hands in suit trouser pockets. The cut of his jacket appeared expensive, as did that of his blond, wavy hair, and Morgan deduced he’d had it trimmed since she last saw him.

“All right there, missus? I’ll be back at eleven then?” the captain shouted, the engine noise and burble of the ocean from its propeller muffling his words.

“Yes, thank you.” Morgan smiled, though her gaze remained on the man in his boat.

Dion turned in slow motion and revealed his profile, one she had seen in her dreams day and night since he’d first set foot on her yacht. He faced her, his skin bronzed, white shirt open at the neck. Tawny chest hairs peeked through the gap and set her heart racing.

God, I want to fuck him.

He gave a lazy smile and stooped to pick up a picnic basket, his gaze remaining on her. Excitement fluttered in her stomach and she swallowed to wet her suddenly dry throat. He walked toward the side of the taxi-boat and Morgan leaned over the rail to relieve him of the basket he held aloft. Though curious as to what lay inside, she stilled her tongue and placed the basket on deck.

Dion turned to the captain. “I will call you later. I may not be ready by eleven.”

His voice, so cultured, reminded her of olden-day gentry. The captain saluted and Morgan frowned. For all Dion knew, she had another client booked after him. But in truth his audacity heightened her desire.

Dion held the rails of her yacht ladder and Morgan stepped back as he hauled himself aboard. His aftershave wafted in the humid air and she inhaled as deeply as she dared without alerting him to what she was doing. Undertones of bergamot and lemon assailed her, images of him naked and at her mercy dancing through her mind. Her cheeks heated and her pussy grew wet. Dion eyed her, his brown eyes harboring…lust?

Morgan swallowed again and clasped her hands in front of her. The taxi-boat sped off back to shore, and she bent down and gripped the basket handle. Dion’s hand covered hers and he lifted the basket between them. Dion’s palm was warm against her fingers and Morgan stared up at him, into eyes that set her clit to throbbing, and wished, wished…

“Good evening, Morgan.”

His smile, a slight tilt of his head and a wink jellied her knees.

Damn him for making me feel like this when I can’t have him!

“Good evening, Dion. What’s in the basket?”

She began to lift the lid but his free hand pushed hers away, their fingers entwining. Heat rushed to her face and she cursed the telltale stain that would surely alert him to how she felt.

“Oh, just a few things.” He uncurled her fingers from the basket handle.

“Things?” She quirked a brow.

“Yes. Shall we?” He motioned to the steps that led below deck. “Or would you rather play outside tonight?”

Her stomach churned and excitement swirled through her. She glanced around—no other boats in sight—and said, “Oh, outside should be fine. Besides, if anyone approaches, we’ll hear their motor.”

“And if anyone watches us through a telescope, we will be none the wiser.”

Morgan stifled a gasp and Dion laughed, loud and hearty, quelling the momentary flare of panic inside her. She shoved the thought of Peeping Toms from her mind and breathed deeply, willing herself to take command. Without her tools, though, she floundered, hands by her sides.

“I’ll need to go down and get—”

“I told you,” he leaned in and whispered beside her mouth, “I’ve brought some things…in the basket.” He kissed her lower lip.

Startled, she jumped back and a high-pitched “Oh!” escaped her. Dion had never crossed the line before, had never kissed her.

Does that mean…?

“Right,” she said on a ragged sigh, heart skipping a beat, legs lust-addled. “Let’s have a look insi—”

“I rather thought we would reverse roles tonight. I want to take charge.”

Thursday, July 1, 2010

Ex Appeal by Cari Quinn

Ex Appeal
by Cari Quinn

After reading Full Disclosure I couldn't wait to read the second book in the Hunk De Jour series, and Ms. Quinn didn't disappoint with Ex Appeal. Jenny and Ty were easy to relate to and root for. And the lengths Jenny goes to in order to get her ex--the delicious Ty--back is hot, hot, hot! I especially melted when Ty displayed his artist talent in a very special way to...well, you'll just have to read Ex Appeal to find out for yourself.

As the webmistress for one of the Northeast’s hottest dating sites, Hunk Du Jour, Jenny Talbot is no stranger to reading the applications of potential clients. But when the latest application that crosses her inbox belongs to Ty Randall, the guy she broke up with a mere twenty-seven days ago, she does a double take. Reading what Ty wants in bed not only gets Jenny hot, it also makes her rethink ending their relationship. All she longed for was a little more spice in the bedroom—okay, a lot more—but he let her go without an argument. Faced with the possibility that Ty may really be moving on, getting her ex back becomes more appealing than ever. But will revealing exactly what she needs allow Jenny to finally experience ultimate pleasure or will she drive away the man she loves for good?


Ty inhaled deeply. His head swam at the scent that filled his nostrils, an aroma that was all Jenny. His fingers clenched the door frame above his head as he took in the sight of her lying on the bed. Jesus, she was beautiful. Her skin glowed under the track lighting, and her cinnamon nipples protruded straight into the air like an invitation. The pain that had seized him moments ago when he’d walked in the unlocked door and heard her moans coming from the bedroom faded in a flood of lust.

He couldn’t stop the sounds that escaped him. Part groan, part growl, all need. Her gaze swung toward the door, her pupils widening until her hazel irises all but disappeared. He met her eyes briefly, electrically, before he deliberately shifted his attention back between her golden thighs.

Abruptly, her movements stilled.

They stared at each other in silent challenge. Her flushed face reddened more, the color inching all the way up to her hairline. She’d always been a blusher, but he hadn’t seen that reaction from her in too many years to count. It had been a long time since he’d flustered her, and he liked it.

For an instant, neither of them moved. Hello, awkward. But in spite of the strained circumstance of their reunion, he only wanted one thing.

For her to finish.

“Don’t stop,” he murmured.

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