Tag: Sexy Reads

  • Sexy Reads – Hurt Me, Heal Me

    Sexy Reads – Hurt Me, Heal Me

    Blurp:

    Dante’s Purgatory, Book One

    After the death of her Master, Caitlin Bennett discovers years of sadistic cruelty at his hands have made her a slave to pain.

    Offering nearly everything she craves, Paul’s perfect—except for his aversion to the whip.

    Waiting in the wings is a newbie Dom determined to have Caitlin for his own…who’s learning the whip just for her.

    She’ll soon have to choose—the man who can give her what she wants? Or the man who can give her what she needs?

    Inside Scoop: Caitlin recalls scenes of abuse that could disturb the more tenderhearted.

    Excerpt:

    Chapter One

    Master was angry.

    And Master never got angry.

    In all the years Caitlin had spent with him, she had never seen him this way. Even with a bullwhip in his hand, when he was whipping her, punishing her, hurting her, he was always calm—eerily calm in fact.

    Those cold, flat, silver-gray eyes, always probing and assessing, delving into her soul to uncover all her fears, all her weaknesses. His almost monotone voice, giving definite but quiet commands. His thin lips, ever so slightly quirked up at one corner as she followed his every instruction to the letter.

    Already kneeling on the floor, Caitlin sat back on her heels. The contact of her feet with the welts on her behind stung and burned. She hunched over, naked and shivering as she tried to shrink into herself. Maybe she should just get out of his way? The thought was ridiculous. She never moved unless she was given permission.

    Master threw his whip to the ground in disgust. He grabbed her chin and roughly pulled her head up, forcing her to look into his eyes.

    “Are you listening to me, girl? Are you hearing what I’m saying to you?” He pulled her head up when she automatically tried to lower it again, forcing her to focus on his words.

    “You don’t look at me like that—with your heart in your eyes like I’m your fucking hero. I hurt you and I fuck you.

    “I. Use. You.”

    He moved his face so it was only inches away from hers. “You will not look at me like I’m your fucking savior—or the love of your goddamn life.” His lips twisted with distaste.

    Caitlin couldn’t stop the tears that started leaking out of the corners of her eyes, and with her hands tied behind her back she had no way to brush them away. They ran down the sides of her nose, into the corners of her mouth and dripped off her chin.

    Master sighed, and for the first time since their relationship began, she saw his eyes soften and he looked at her with something different.

    Kindness?

    Ivan stared at the frightened girl in front of him. She was twenty-five—definitely a woman, but to him she had always looked like a girl. Still did.

    She was beautiful. Jesus, she was beautiful, so petite and fragile-looking. With her heart-shaped face, porcelain skin and those huge brown eyes fringed with impossibly long, sooty lashes. Her full lips rosy, even with her face scrubbed clean of makeup, and that fall of thick, lustrous chocolate-brown hair that tumbled down to the middle of her back. She looked like a doll. An exquisitely formed, perfect china doll.

    He had always watched her so carefully during their sessions, attuned to everything she was thinking and feeling. He asked her questions, sure. But they were all about how much she was hurting, how afraid she was, how much she wanted to come. He never asked about other emotions—the ones he had no interest in. As though, if he didn’t care about her deeper feelings, they didn’t exist.

    Stupid, arrogant fool.

    Maybe if he’d actually spent some time observing her afterward he would have figured it out. But every time, immediately after it was all over, she would end up on her stomach on the bed while he rubbed lotion into her welts to help stop inflammation and scarring. Not because he was a nice, caring sort of a guy. No, definitely not that. He looked after everything he owned with extreme care. Just as he cleaned and maintained his whips and other toys, he looked after her.

    Maintenance—that’s all it was.

    And when he was done, he sent her away.

    Today when they had finished, he caught her looking at him. She had been trained to keep her eyes down, but before she could look away, he saw it. That look of pure adoration and something else. He couldn’t be sure since no one had ever looked at him that way, but could it be—love? God, that word that left a bad taste in his mouth.

    It fucking terrified him.

    “Caitlin,” he said quietly. A beautiful name but he hadn’t called her that in a long, long time. He had other names for her, ones that weren’t even remotely beautiful.

    She stared up at him with those huge, innocent eyes of hers. Jesus, how could she still look so innocent after all the things he’d done to her? He’d come to terms with himself and what he was a long time ago. But when she looked at him like the naïve girl she’d been when she’d first came to him…he hated her. Hated her for making him feel something, for making him despise himself. And that made him want to hurt her even more.

    God, he had to get her away from him.

    “Caitlin, you deserve more than this. You’re a young woman, and compared to you, I’m an old man.” He could see she disagreed with him but she dared not argue.

    “I’m fifty-six. You should have a chance to find a husband you can look at with your adoring eyes. A man who will go to sleep with you in your bed every night and wake up with you in the morning. A man who will take you out, show you the world. You should have babies—lots of babies. A family. A dog. A goddamn white picket fence if you want it.”

    He took a deep breath. “I want you to leave.” His voice cracked. Jesus, saying it was more difficult than he’d thought.

    “Should I…come back tomorrow?” she asked in a small voice.

    She wasn’t getting it. “No, little girl. I don’t want you anymore. It’s over. We’re done.”

    Her mouth opened in shock and she let out a sob, a high-pitched burst of air.

    She looked like a puppy that had been kicked too many times.

    God, that look drove him crazy.

    He could take it back. Tell her he was just messing with her. He could get out the cane and beat her for having feelings for him, for looking at him when she wasn’t supposed to. He could make some shit up—anything. He could punish her. He could punish her mercilessly and she would take it.

    And then he would free his rock-hard cock from his pants and feed it into her beautiful, hot, wet, waiting mouth. He could look down and see those perfect rosy lips wrapped around him as she licked and suckled greedily. Wordlessly begging his forgiveness with her mouth and tongue. And then he would grab her by the hair, tip her head back and drive into her, over and over, harder and deeper, until tears streamed down her face, until she gasped for air, until she choked, until she sobbed, until she cried.

    And she swallowed everything he gave her.

    Fuck, he would never get enough of her. And if he wasn’t very careful, he would end up fucking enslaved to her. And wasn’t that an interesting question? Who was enslaved to whom? He didn’t want to examine that too closely; afraid he might not like the answer.

    He pulled her to her feet and untied the bindings from her wrists. He turned her gently and stroked her face, cupped her cheek in his palm.

    When was the last time he’d done that? Maybe the first day she came to him, so lost, alone and confused. Yes, he was kind to her that day, but never since then.

    She was sobbing now, uncontrollably. It was obvious just how out of control she was, since she actually grabbed his hand and held it against her cheek. Under normal circumstances, such unheard of behavior would have resulted in a reprimand—No touching, you greedy little slut. No touching without my permission—along with a deliciously creative punishment. But oh, her skin, her perfect tear-streaked skin, was so soft and smooth. It was the last time he would touch her like this. His chest felt tight.

    Suddenly he wanted to take her in his arms and comfort her, his poor little girl. Hold her naked, trembling body in his lap as if she were a child, stroking her hair, brushing away her tears. Murmuring in her ear, telling her that everything would be all right.

    She continually threatened to break his control. If he let her, she would smash it until it was lying shattered around his feet like jagged shards of broken glass. And what would happen to him then?

    He used his Dom voice. The voice he used only with her. Always with her. “Turn around. Pick up your clothes. Leave. Now.”

    And good girl that she was, she did exactly what she was told. But she turned back just before she closed the door and looked at him. It was as if all the light had been extinguished from her gorgeous, expressive eyes. Christ, she looked—broken. After everything that had happened to her, after all the pain and misery he had inflicted, finally he had broken her.

    And for some reason, it was nothing he could savor.

    Ivan walked over to the bed on shaky legs, suddenly feeling weak. The tight feeling in his chest was like a fist squeezing his heart. He sat down heavily on the edge of the bed. Right where she’d been not long ago, facedown, ass up in the air, hands tied behind her as he fucked her—hard—until he came like a fucking freight train. And she didn’t.

    God, how long had it been since he let her come? Three weeks? Four? Yes, four weeks.

    He loved keeping her like that, squirming and desperate. Teasing her, bringing her to the brink and denying her—over and over and over. And she, his strong, brave girl, would beg. That was the one thing she would beg for. Beg and cry for his permission to come.

    And he wouldn’t let her.

    It was a beautiful thing.


     

    Love to read the rest of Hurt Me, Heal Me?  Purchase it on Amazon at the following links!

    Amazon US:

    http://www.amazon.com/Hurt-Me-Heal-Dantes-Purgatory-ebook/dp/B00MFQ6I62

    Amazon Ca:

    http://www.amazon.ca/Hurt-Me-Heal-Dantes-Purgatory-ebook/dp/B00MFQ6I62

    Amazon UK:

    http://www.amazon.co.uk/Hurt-Me-Heal-Dantes-Purgatory-ebook/dp/B00MFQ6I62

    Barnes & Noble:

    http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/hurt-me-heal-me-sayara-st-clair/1120066369?ean=9781419949258

    All Romance ebooks:

    https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-hurtmehealme-1587674-340.htm

    Ellora’s Cave:

    http://www.ellorascave.com/hurt-me-heal-me.html


    Image courtesy of Sayara St Clair
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  • Sexy Reads – Heat Wave for Five

    Sexy Reads – Heat Wave for Five

    Karen and Mike had their first group sex experience last week, and when three of their friends come over for a dinner party, Karen quickly realizes she wants it all to happen again tonight. So she devises a plan, and pretty soon she’s twerking tongues with Cassandra. When everyone else doesn’t immediately join in, Karen decides it’s time for a game.

    Excerpt

    I could tell she was thinking about it.

    The two of us—Cassandra and I—made our way into the living room while everyone else put their dishes away and refilled their wine glasses. She sat down right next to me on our couch.

    She lowered her voice. “So, um, not to be weird, but is the offer, like, actually on the table?”

    I didn’t respond. It was from me. I just didn’t want to speak for everyone else.

    “I mean, it seemed like it, but no one came out and said, like, ‘let’s do it I want to do it.’ You know?”

    Was it possible she really wanted to? It sure sounded like it.

    I didn’t think. I just acted.

    I kissed her on the lips. Hers were soft and sweet. I could taste the wine on her lips.

    At first they didn’t open. They pursed and retreated, though not quite enough to lose contact. But I could feel her start to think. There was a moment where she stopped completely and asked herself if she really wanted to do this.

    And then she gave in.

    When her tongue enmeshed with mine, they danced intensely. I mean, they were twerking. Our tongues twerked inside each other’s mouths. I could feel the strength of her desire, the heat of her longing. It was like she was being unleashed.

    I don’t know how long we made out. It could have been ten seconds; it could have been ten minutes.

    “Ho-lee shit.” The voice behind us finally brought us to a stop.

    It was Mike. He turned over his left shoulder.

    “Hey Dani! Kyle! Cassandra and my girlfriend were just making out.”

    “What? No way!” Both of them spoke at once. I heard a clatter of feet, and then two excited faces appeared next to Mike’s.

    “Do it again!” Mike said.

    “Guys, we’re not just going to—“

    But before I could finish my sentence, Cassandra’s lips covered mine.

    I could hear the crowd behind us cheer as our tongues once again interlocked. Now our hands joined the frenzy. She explored the flat of my back, my shoulder blades, and my rib cage. Then her hands found the curves of my ass. They squeezed my cheeks, and my muscles clenched in response. I heard her release a moan.

    Okay, time for me to get involved.

    I wanted to feel her breasts underneath my hands. I snaked my hands under her shirt and moved them up her ribs and stomach until I felt the bottom underwire of her bra. My fingers slid underneath her bra and clawed their way toward her nipples.

    She moved her mouth to my neck as I did this, sucking and biting at my neck. I could hear Mike muttering “holy shit…” behind me as he noticed my hands groping her relentlessly.

    Her mouth took a break from my skin. “Like what you see, guys?” Cassandra said.

    “I think they do,” I whispered in her ear. She quieted me with her lips, and we resumed our aggressive make out session.

    I knew where this was going. I reached for the bottom of her shirt, grasped the stitching, and began to pull the shirt up and over her head.

    “Whoa, whoa, hold on,” said Cassandra.

    I was crestfallen. I thought we were just about to experience a mind-blowing orgy. I was getting all wrapped up in the anticipation, the excitement of what was about to come…

    “Did everyone like where that was headed?” asked Cassandra.

    I swiveled my head back to our audience. They nodded dumbly, giggling.

    “Then let’s have some fun with this,” Cassandra said, pulling her shirt back down. “Let’s play a game.

    “Who wants to fill up my wine glass?”


     

    Want to read the rest of Heat Wave for Five?  Purchase it on Amazon at:

    http://www.amazon.com/Heat-Wave-Five-Friends-Group-ebook/dp/B00OYN6MXS/ref=sr_1_17?ie=UTF8&qid=1418321132&sr=8-17&keywords=Piper+Lee+Webb&pebp=1418321132548


    Image courtesy of Piper Lee Webb
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  • Sexy Reads – Underneath the Gargoyle

    Sexy Reads – Underneath the Gargoyle

    Underneath the Gargoyle: A Prologue

    What really happened between Kyle’s parents? A PROLOGUE explores the kinky back story which occurs about 18 years prior to the beginning of Christina Harding’s UNDERNEATH THE GARGOYLE series.

    Excerpt

    Marissa stares up at the gargoyles at the top of the church and frowns. She fumbles with her polaroid camera, frames one of the gargoyles in the viewfinder using the zoom function to get a close-up, and snaps a picture, her fingers going numb in the frigid cold air. I wish I had my textbook on gothic churches with me, Marissa thinks as she stands in front of the church, waving the polaroid and waiting for it to develop. Her eyes widen with excitement as she remembers she did, in fact, bring the text.

    Still waiting for the photo to develop, Marissa sits down on the steps of the church, despite the fact that they have iced over, and flips through the pages until she finds what she’s looking for. There is an entire chapter devoted to this church with detailed photographs of its features, including the gargoyles. She finds a photo of her gargoyle, the one who looks like a dragon. He is sitting in a crouching position, as usual, and he is baring his teeth as if he’s about to exhale a ferocious flame of fire.

    The polaroid of this same gargoyle is starting to come into focus, but his teeth aren’t bared. He’s crouching, but he’s staring almost peacefully off into the distance. Her heart racing, Marissa slips the photo into the text as a bookmark, and stands up to get another look at the gargoyle.

    His teeth are bared again like in the textbook, but not like the polaroid she took just moments ago. What the heck? Marissa thinks. Trembling, she looks down at her polaroid again. How could this be possible? The gargoyle must have moved while I was flipping through my textbook! she thinks. She takes another photo of the dragon-like gargoyle, now baring his teeth, and then sets off, hustling to the university with a skip in her step.

    “Professor John!” Marissa calls out to her thesis advisor, knocking on the door to his office. He opens the door.

    “Marissa!” he says, sounding surprised. “Come on in!” he opens the door wide, and Marissa slips through. His office is warm and welcoming with a fire sparkling in the fireplace.

    “I have found some solid evidence to support my theory of cryptozoology.” she announces, excited and still breathless from running.

    Professor John closes the door to his office and sits down at his desk, waving for her to sit down too. “What have you found?” He sounds eager.

    “The gargoyle on top of the church,” she pulls out her two photographs, “I caught him moving today.” Marissa hands her photos to the Professor.

    He adjusts his reading glasses and gives the polaroids a long look. “When did you take these pictures?”

    “Maybe fifteen minutes ago. I came straight here. I took the photos only about a minute or two apart,” Marissa rushes to explain.

    “You realize the implications of this are huge?” Professor John says, placing the pictures on his desk. “This could be a major breakthrough in the study of cryptozoology.” Marissa’s heart swells with excitement, but the professor continues, “You know, not everyone is going to believe the authenticity of these photos. To date, every picture of a cryptid has been debunked. How are you going to prove that your photos are genuine and that they were taken only within minutes of each other? Who’s to say they weren’t taken years apart and that the gargoyle was not modified?”

    Marissa finds herself flushing; she was not expecting such a skeptical reaction. Stammering for a response, she asks, “Do you believe me?”

    “I think, a girl such as yourself, should not sully her hands in such matters.”

    Shocked, Marissa is speechless.

    Noticing her vulnerability, Professor John continues, “It must have been hard to get here so quickly.” He looks pointedly at Marissa’s stretching belly. “When are you due?”

    Marissa rubs her growing bump, finding her voice again, “In thirty-five days.”

    “As it seems, a child out of wedlock will cast shadow on your moral integrity. You are going to need someone to support your claim, someone with credibility.”

    “As my thesis advisor, can’t you…?” Marissa begins to ask.

    “Oh yes, that would seem like the obvious choice, wouldn’t it?” Rising from his seat, Professor John rounds his desk and approaches Marissa, “That would require extra effort on my part. And so, I would expect extra from you in return.”

    Hoping she’s hearing him correctly, Marissa eagerly responds, “Oh thank you, Professor! I would be happy to do whatever it takes!”

    Professor John reaches up and brushes the hair on the side of her cheek. “I was hoping you would say that.” His hand traces down her neck and starts circling her breast.

    Marissa tries to back up, but has nowhere to go. She tries to protest, “I love Matthew Cohen.”

    “Even though he won’t marry you? He has left you for any man to take.” Professor John reaches up with his other hand and starts caressing both of her breasts.

    “Matthew’s status with the church requires certain obligations.” Marissa futilely explains. She tries to squirm away from the Professor.

    “None of this. Lay down on my desk now,” the Professor commands.

    “No, and get your hands off me!” Marissa insists. She stands up and attempts to brush by the Professor, but he blocks her way.

    “If you’re not going to play nicely, I can just get rid of your evidence,” the professor says, grabbing the polaroids off of his desk and holding them over the fire.

    “No! Don’t!!” Marissa exclaims, lying down on the desk. “Please….”

    “I knew you would come around.” Much to her surprise, the Professor grabs the elastic waist band of her maternity clothes and pulls them down exposing her to the office. Marissa tries to clench her legs together in a last attempt for modesty, but even as she does so, she feels her pussy start to tingle with expectancy.

    The Professor pries her legs open and props them on his shoulders, one on each. Marissa feels the heat of the fire directly on her most private space as it starts to drip. Out of obligation, Marissa cries out, “Please don’t. I love Matthew!” even though her body is yearning for more.

    Ignoring her pleas, the Professor zips down his fly and pulls out his swollen cock through the front of his boxers. Even though the skin around his potbelly is loose with middle age, his rod is still firm and hard, ready to enter this flesh which is thirty years younger than himself. Professor John caresses Marissa’s youthful labia with the head of his dick, following the folds around her cunt. Marissa tingles as a rush of blood to her pussy makes her fully engorged. She moans.

    The professor is still fully dressed in his suit, his pants hiked up around his waist. Just his pink, swollen dick is unveiled, poking out of his boxers from a mass of curly pubic hair. Meanwhile, Marissa is completely exposed from the waist down, and her shirt is starting to ride up over her swollen belly.

    Smearing his pre-cum across her labia, the Professor observes, “I wonder how much you really love him. You seem to be enjoying yourself quite a bit.” He poises the tip of his cock right at the opening of her throbbing hole, entering her with just the head, wavering on the brink of her crevice.

    “Oh please…” Marissa starts whimpering. But as she says it, she realizes she’s not asking him to stop, but actually begging for more.

    “Now tell me, what are you planning on naming your child?”

    Marissa tries to focus, “If it’s a boy, we want to name him Kyle.”

    The Professor enters her completely. Marissa’s vagina seizes with surprise, but releases with pleasure. She feels a gush of wet escape her pussy. “Kyle is a solid name,” the Professor tells her.

    He draws slowly out of her, but then thrusts in again, quickly. Marissa shouts, “Oh, Professor John!” Her body shakes with pleasure, droplets of sweat forming on her pregnant belly.

    Her baby has increased the pressure inside of her, making her tighter than she was as a virgin. Her toes curl as she revels in the exquisite sensation. She’s more sensitive than she’s ever been before. Maybe it’s the change in my hormones? she asks herself. Marissa can feel Professor John’s every movement as his aged, but rigid, cock rocks inside of her. “You are so tight,” he moans.

    The Professor cups his hands around her belly and feels her baby kick. “Your child knows you aren’t being faithful to its father.”

    Marissa feels the baby kick too, and tingling excitement ripples across her abdomen. She looks up at the professor and sees his face contort in pleasure, his bifocals sitting askew.

    The professor reaches down and starts stroking Marissa’s clit. Her legs twitch involuntarily, and her body shudders. Marissa grabs the edge of the desk and pulls herself towards her superior so that he can drive more deeply into her. The Professor grabs around Marissa’s legs with his free hands and bucks harder into his student.

    All of a sudden Marissa, feels her orgasm coming. “I’m almost there!” She rolls her head back, “Don’t stop!!” The professor obliges, continuing to pump into her and rubbing furiously on her clit.

    Marissa and Professor John reach climax at the same moment. She twists and contorts as the pain of a contraction mixed with the releasing pleasure of an orgasm emanates across her body. John clutches her legs to his chest as he shoots deep within her expectant body. He lets out a grunt of pleasure.

    There is a knock at the door.

    Abruptly both teacher and student are both brought back to the present. Before they have a chance to respond, the door opens and they hear, “Is everything okay Professor?” Then a head pokes through the door.

    It is Matthew.

    His eyes go round as he takes in the scene in front of him.

    Marissa stumbles up as best as she can with her baby bump. “Matthew, this is not what it looks like!”

    Matthew’s face gets dark. “I saw he was inside of you. I know what happened here; there’s no need to say anymore.”

    “No, Matthew!” Marissa insists, but Matthew has snapped the door shut. Tears start to stream down her face.

    “Like I said, he’s left you available for anyone to take. And, there’s no need to lie; we both know you enjoyed it,” the Professor tells her, zipping up his pants. He casually picks up her polaroids on his way out of the office and tosses them into the fire. “Also, the cryptozoology of the gargoyles – that needs to remain a secret.”


    If you liked Christina Harding’s free story, then you may enjoy the rest of her UNDERNEATH THE GARGOYLE series as well. A PROLOGUE is also available for FREE download from Smashwords.

    Christina Harding is a pseudonym. She is a guest blogger for Romance at Random of Random House and the author of Underneath the Gargoyle, a paranormal erotic series. She also blogs at www.christinahardingerotica.blogspot.com and tweets @tinaerotica. Christina is happily married and enjoys reading sexy stories with her husband.


    Purchase Underneath The Gargoyle: A Prologue at


    Image courtesy of Christina Harding
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  • Sexy Reads – Predator’s Fire, Gemini Island Shifters 5

    Sexy Reads – Predator’s Fire, Gemini Island Shifters 5

    Tagline:

    In her world, he shouldn’t exist. In his world, she’s about to become an endangered species.

    Blurb:

    When Nina Suzuki discovers the body of her best friend Janine, her world turns upside down. Things go from bad to worse when Janine’s corpse seems to transform into that of a large, brown wolf. For the first time, Nina is faced to confront all the clues indicating her BFF was not what she seemed. A letter from the dead woman opens Nina’s eyes to a strange, new world. The same letter warns of a sinister group called the Alpha Brethren, and urges her to find Killian Moon of the Ursa Fishing Lodge and Resort on Gemini Island.

    Killian Moon is a jaguar shifter and teen mentor at the Ursa Lodge in Northern Ontario. He may be a comfort and inspiration to confused teen shifters, but he also has a fiery past. His past comes back to haunt him when human Nina arrives at the resort, demanding to speak with him. Demanding answers. Can he trust her with knowledge that will not only change her life, but possibly endanger those around him?

    As Killian begrudgingly tutors Nina on all things shifter, their mutual curiosity flares into passionate need. Once they touch, once they succumb to desire, there is no going back. Killian realizes Nina is his mate and they both begin to comprehend the terror threatening those on their shifter-friendly island. He is forced to confront the tragedy in his family and determines to protect Nina at all costs.

    But can they protect everyone they love from a cult of dangerous shifters, intent on horror and destruction?

    Excerpt:

    “How much longer do I have to wait? I want to see Killian Moon. Now.”

    The feminine voice, strangely soft despite its insistence, echoed deep in his being, awakening his jaguar. The great cat roared to life, turned toward the office and inhaled deeply. Its eyes flashed in interest.

    In…recognition?

    Killian breathed in at the same time, catching the scent of cherry blossoms through the door. The sweet perfume, mixed with human outrage, proved a heady distraction, making him forget why he was there. Shaking his head, he tried to dismiss the odd sensation as Ryland opened the door.

    The door swung open and the first person he glimpsed was one of the clerks from reception, trying his hardest to placate the unexpected guest. “I’m sure Mr. Snow and Mr. Moon will be right back.”

    And then his gaze landed on the petite human. Tapered Asian eyes, so dark and mysterious, but rimmed with circles of exhaustion. Smooth, cinnamon skin hinted at a mixed background. Wearing no makeup, she appeared younger than she must be, but her presence and keen eyes pegged her at around thirty years old. She had a riot of curly, black hair and feminine curves that ought to come with a warning. He could see it now. Beware: this woman’s body will cause insanity in men. Even as she gesticulated at the clerk, her boobs jiggled in such a way his throat went dry.

    He pictured her in a corset, her breasts spilling over delicate lace edging, and almost forgot his name.

    This Nina Suzuki was damn hot and his jaguar seemed to agree. The animal licked its lips, its golden gaze assessing and appreciating every detail, from her rounded hips to her come-hither rack.

    Yes, the creature uttered on a frenzied breath.

    Buy link: Predator’s Fire, Gemini Island Shifters 5, is available at: http://www.lsbooks.com/predator-s-fire-p946.php

    http://www.amazon.com/Predators-Fire-Gemini-Island-Shifters-ebook/dp/B00N7407TA/ref=la_B007X5P4I8_1_4/192-1587072-4901527?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1418010196&sr=1-4

    http://store.kobobooks.com/en-CA/ebook/predator-s-fire

    http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/predators-fire-rosanna-leo/1120325404?ean=9781622101498

    https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-predator039sfire-1618352-149.html


    Image courtesy of Rosanna Leo
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  • Sexy Reads – The New Orleans Hothouse

    Sexy Reads – The New Orleans Hothouse

    Excerpt

    The barkeep placed ten golden coins on the counter and smiled. “I think you need some relaxation, Mr. Rothstein. A young lady is working the peep show tonight, just for you. It’ll be worth your while, sir. She’s a real beauty, and I swear nobody will watch the two of you.”

    I took another sip of my scotch and pushed the glass back to the bartender. “Why not, I got time to kill.” I scooped up the coins and rose from the stool. He pointed to the curtain. “All the way in the back, behind them beads, Mr. Rothstein. The two of you will be alone.”

    I strolled over to the curtain, parted it, and walked into a labyrinth of dark corners and empty corners. The freaks had deserted the place, and except for a dribble of what looked like cum on the floor, no one would know about the strange happenings. Silence shrouded the place. No moaning or groaning, grunts or screams. No poor sap going through the motions of having sex with his drunken girlfriend on stained mattress. Otis had painted over the squalor and mopped the floors, leaving them pristine and devoid of semen except for that one spot. I looked down at my wristwatch with a sigh. It would be another fifteen minutes before I met with him.

    I stumbled through the dim light. Someone had lit votives to light my way, a polite gesture wasted on me. When I finally reached the darkest part of the club, past the last room, I saw a glass-fronted booth illuminated by a single light bulb. A young woman perched inside. My mysterious date. I couldn’t make her out very well since a mane of glossy black hair obscured her face. When I moved closer, my heart lurched and my head began pounding like a base drum. Yvette sat alone behind the glass.

    I hadn’t been wrong about her beauty. Even in the booth’s harsh light, she looked as stunning as she had in her skimpy outfit at the Mason-Dixon Line. Now I could really see her, and she more than passed muster, a voluptuous girl of about nineteen with flawless skin. Yvette sat on a red pillow like a beautiful spider in a glass nest, ready to ensnare some poor sap into her web. Instead of wearing a cheap cocktail dress like the women in the bar, she’d covered her curves with a crimson silk kimono tied at the waist.

    What she was doing in a dump like the Lucky 13 mystified me, but my stiffening cock told me the reason didn’t matter. I found myself standing in front of her.

    She looked up and we stared at each other for at least a half a minute. Her eyes suddenly flashed, and I knew she hadn’t forgotten the matter of me putting my hand down her dress. A few more bucks should handle it.

    “Hey, beautiful, I’m stuck in this shithole with time to kill. The bartender said folks in New Orleans do their best for guests and you’d show me something good. What you going to do for me?”

    Yvette didn’t say a word, just stared back at me for a long moment. She finally spoke in deep and smoky tones, possibly from one too many cigarettes, but maybe not. Her teeth were pearly white, her hands free from nicotine stains.

    “I could do a lot for a pretty boy like you. I bet your dick is as beautiful as the rest of you. Unzip, daddy and show me what you got.”

    What the hell? Who did she think she was? I thought hookers were supposed to be polite. When her beautiful mouth widened into an insolent grin, I felt my anger bubble over.

    “Pull out my cock? You want me to beat my meat? Screw you. On the worst day of my life, I could do better than you.”

    Yvette sat back in her cushion. “Oh, is that so?”

    “Yeah.”

    “Well, you aren’t very polite, especially when a girl is just trying to be friendly. But I’ll forgive you. You look upset. Poor baby, let me make you feel better. C’mon. Don’t be a chicken. Show me your dick.”

    “Fuck you, bitch.”

    Yvette opened her robe just as I turned away. “Hey, pretty man. Look at this.” She pulled back the crimson silk, slowly parted her legs, and exposed the treasure her creamy thighs concealed: a beautiful rose-colored pussy nesting in black hair. I usually went for chilly beauties, but Yvette’s earthy brazenness excited me. My rod stiffened and pointed at her. My arousal would have been obvious to a blind man.

    Her voice teased me. “Daddy, are you still mad at me.”

    I couldn’t pull myself away. “No.”

    Yvette gave me an earthy cackle. “You were mad. Those eyes of yours flashed amber like you were going to explode.” She gave a toss of her head and smirked. “I’m ready to play and from what’s poking out of your trousers, so are you. Come on, baby. Don’t be afraid. Show mama what you’ve got.”

    She licked her full lips when I unbuckled my belt, but before I could unzip my fly, a crimson curtain descended, and she disappeared from view. I yelped in frustration, dug in my pocket for one of the coins, and dropped it into the slot. The drape ascended. Yvette sat back on her pillow, grinning.

    “Well, hey, daddy, you still here? Guess you didn’t find something better, did you?”

    Yvette put a finger to her mouth, parted her full lips and gave it a slow, sensuous lick. She moved her hand southward, toward another pair of lips. I couldn’t contain myself and unfastened my trousers. They fell around my hips along with my shorts. I grabbed my cock and stroked the shaft. Yvette stared at it for a long moment.

    “Well, daddy, you got a pretty one, all big and pink. I like it, sugar.”

    Big dicks ran in my family. “Yeah, that’s what they say about us Rothsteins. Big dicks, big wallets.”

    “And I bet you love showing both off to all the young ladies. Don’t you, handsome?”

    Her grin widened as she slid her moistened finger in a circle around her pussy lips and undulated her hips, the movements slow and deliberate, her voice growling a low moan.

    “Daddy, play with that bad boy for me, but do it slow. I like it slow Real slow.”

    I groaned and moved my hips in rhythm with hers as if I was inside her.

    Purchase The New Orleans Hothouse here at http://www.loose-id.com/the-new-orleans-hot-house.html


    Image courtesy of Loose Id
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