Saturday Sexcerpt – Prisoner of the Heart by Anny Cook

Available at Resplendence Publishing!

This is an excerpt from Prisoner of the Heart:

When Rebecca Iversen graduated from college, she headed home with nothing on her mind but wedding plans. Less than a month later her plans were in ruins when she discovered she was pregnant the same week her fiancé was arrested for selling drugs. Anxious to provide legitimacy for her child, she married Tom while he was still in jail. Years later, Becky finally divorced him, resolved to make a peaceful life for her children and herself.

When the reunion invitation from Karen arrived in her e-mail, her Aunt Mary urged her to take the time to enjoy a little adult time at the reunion.

Young Joe Harris lived across the street from the old Victorian where Becky lived during college. He spent those years secretly yearning for the “older woman”. Now that Becky is back and single, Joe plans to do everything in his power to convince her that he’s exactly the man she needs.

Abruptly, she patted his arm. “Arnold, it was a great party, but you know what? Joe and I want to spend some time alone. And somehow, I don’t think we can do what we’re really interested in at a public party,” she confided with a little smile.

After a quick comprehensive survey of their expressions, Arnold backed away, smiling ruefully. “My mistake. Have a wonderful evening.”

Joe laughed. “Oh, we will. Goodnight, Arnie!” Taking Becky’s hand, he headed for the doors, anxious for them to be alone.

When he parked the car in the driveway and turned out the lights, he turned to her and asked, “You’re sure you’re good with this?”

She opened the door and got out. “I’ll meet you on the porch when you make up your mind.”

By the time her door slammed, he was out of the car so fast his door sounded like an echo of hers as he hustled to meet her in front of the car. “Sassy woman.” He swept her up in his arms, carried her up the steps to the porch and paused, stymied as he fumbled with the screen door. “Have you noticed the men in the movies never have to deal with screen doors, keys or door knobs?” he observed with a huff. “Why is that?”

Giggling, Becky tugged the screen door open. “There now. Where’s the key?”

“I have it.” Joe stuffed the key in the lock and turned it while she pushed. Once they were inside, he allowed her legs to slide down as he backed her up against the wall. “I thought I would never get you alone,” he murmured before capturing her mouth with his lips. Quiet murmurs and whimpers filled the dim hallway as they kissed, exploring with tongues, nipping with increasing abandon.

Tugging his tie loose, she struggled to unbutton his shirt, desperately wanting to touch him. Without releasing her mouth, he shrugged his jacket off before pressing closer. Wriggling her hips until she could rub her mound against his cock, she sighed and yanked his shirt open. A button winged off into the shadows, pinging when it hit the wall. Shoving the fabric out of the way, she smoothed her palms over his hard chest, enjoying the way the springy curls felt under her hands and the heady scents of soap and man.

“Naked. We need to be naked,” he muttered as he nibbled the tender spot under her ear.

“Working on it.” She wrestled with his buckle, cursing under her breath as he flinched when her knuckles brushed his cock under the fabric. She abandoned the buckle going for the hard flesh instead.

Joe groaned, backed away long enough to undo his buckle and the zipper on his slacks and then he was pressing her up to the wall again. Becky shoved his pants and boxers aside, clutching his hard hot length in her warm hand. He groaned again and groped for her dress zipper, failing to locate it. Finally, he lifted his head, staring down at her in frustration. “How the heck do I get this dress off?”

Without a word, she caught the hem, tugging the dress up and over her head. Then she was standing in front of him, in pearls, sexy underwear and stockings with high heels.

Joe gasped and muttered a curse before bending to shove off his shoes, socks and pants. Then he lifted her in his arms and headed down the hall.

“Where are we going?” she asked impatiently.

“Hell if I know.” He paused in the living room doorway, and shook his head. “The sofa’s too small.”

“The floor…”

“Too rough.” He shifted her in his arms and headed for the recliner in the far corner. “Perfect.” Plopping down, he helped her turn until she was straddling his lap and then he grabbed the release handle, and the chair tilted back.

Saturday Sexcerpt – Ringo’s Ride by Regina Carlysle

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Here’s a blurb and excerpt from Ringo’s Ride, available August 28 at Ellora’s Cave.

 Book 3 in the High Plains Shifters series but can be read as a stand-alone story.

 Rayne dreamed of the day Ringo would claim her as his mate, changing her into the lycan she is meant to be. One touch from his hands burns her with a flame hot enough to scorch the Texas plains. But the moody lycan has made it clear he doesn’t want her. That’s just too damn bad! The sexy Latino lycan belongs to her and she aims to claim him, no matter what it takes. 

 Ringo hides the pain of his tortured past behind a menacing sneer. Learning that Rayne is meant to be his mate is unwelcome news. She deserves better than to be saddled with a man with his checkered past. It isn’t until she is taken from him that he knows she is the only woman who can heal his battered soul.

 On to the excerpt!  This excerpt is recommended for adults 18 years or older.

Copyright © REGINA CARLYSLE, 2009

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

 Ringo Ramone raced through the hot Texas night as if someone had lit a fire under his ass. He dodged rocks and prickly cactus, ignoring the heat that singed the pads of his paws, too furious to notice. Rage beat at him until he practically shook with it. He sniffed the ground in an effort to pick up the trail of the rogue lycans who’d stolen his mate.

His mate!

Fuck!

He’d always suspected Rayne Poteet might be the one but he hadn’t wanted that. For years he’d watched her from a distance, drawn to her sweetness, her beauty. He’d slunk around in the shadows, fighting off the feelings that twisted tightly in his chest every time she so much as spoke to him. He wasn’t an emotional man and didn’t plan on changing for any she-wolf, not even Rayne. Besides, she was too good for the likes of him. He was a motherless son of a rat-bastard traitor and that’s all he’d ever be.

The huge black wolf stopped and panted. How much ground had he covered since leaving the ranch house to hunt down the men who’d taken her? Tonight they’d had a barbecue for the town of Cloverfield. It had been a happy time and, Lord knew, he’d seen too few of those in his many years. His alpha Joe McKinnon, and Quinn, the daughter of their former alpha, were celebrating their Consummation Ceremony when it all went down. Like a bunch of raving idiots, the males of the pack had been lured by rogue lycans to the south pasture while others had circled back to the ranch to steal away their unmated females.

Rayne!

She was his predestined mate. He hadn’t known it until tonight and then, in one instant of stupidity, she’d been taken before he’d had time to absorb it all. Spotting a grove of mesquite in the distance, he loped over, shifting as he ran. Naked, dripping with sweat, he leaned against the rough bark and closed his eyes. Ringo couldn’t help it. The look on her face tonight as the knowledge of their empathic connection, the proof they were a meant to be a mated pair, had gone through him like a blast from a flamethrower. Her pretty, sherry-colored eyes had gone wide as energy sizzled between them.

His cock thickened as he remembered.

Damn his horny ass!

This wasn’t the time.

Shifting back into his wolf, he took off again, scenting the air. Off in the distance, he spotted an old line shack at the edge of the ranch property. If worse came to worst, he could bring her to it. It was kept fully stocked with provisions.

Ringo continued on, running endlessly across the empty stretch of prairie. Suddenly, he spotted it. A low campfire was flickering in the predawn darkness, shooting up occasional sparks. Laughter. Male laughter. His heightened senses picked up the sound of Rayne’s breathing. It was accelerated.

A truck was parked at the very edge of the meager light and two naked men sat on the ground several yards from where Rayne lay, trussed up like a Christmas turkey. Her clothes were a mess and there were scratches on her legs. Her copper-colored hair was spread across the dusty ground like a pool of sunshine and he got a glimpse of her bare white belly and the tiny red panties she wore.

“What are we gonna do with her? Zavalos must be dead. He hasn’t shown up like he was supposed to.”

The other lycan stood and, planting his fists on his hips, stared across the fire at Rayne. Ringo lowered his body closer to the ground and moved slowly toward them, listening.

“Something went wrong. I feel it,” he said. “Let’s load her into the truck and head south. We can’t wait out here anymore. It’ll be morning soon.”

“Please. Let me go,” Rayne said.

Ringo’s heart thumped then sped in his chest at the sound of her voice. Just hearing it threatened to send him to his knees.

“Can’t do that, Red.” This from the man who was crouched before the fire. “Our pack is short on unmated females and you’ll have to come with us.”

“But I-I am,” she stammered. “I have a mate.”

The lycan who stood stalked toward her and, grabbing her shoulders, jerked her upright and slapped her. The crack of it shredded the quiet.

Red rage clouded Ringo’s mind. His fur bristled. They would die this night for trespassing on what was his. His snarl of outrage made his prey go still. With death and destruction on his mind, he leaped.

* * * * *

The first lycan had thrown her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and run with her into the night to where a truck waited. A second man had bound her hands and feet with duct tape and covered her mouth with it too. Callously they’d tossed her into the bed of the truck and driven off. She heard the cries of the McCafferty sisters and wanted to scream her outrage. They were just girls really, no older than seventeen. No doubt they were being handled in the same sickening manner. A second truck, carrying the girls, went in another direction.

Oh gods!

There was no way in hell she could help them.

Terrified, shaken beyond anything in her experience, she’d lain there as tears leaked from her eyes. All she could see was the smattering of stars overhead. All she could hear was the sound of the truck engine and the wind as it whistled by. Closing her eyes, she prayed for Ringo.

Yes, she was lycan but not yet fully in working order, so to speak. She’d yet to shift and only tonight had it been revealed that Ringo, the lanky, dark wolf with the blacker–than-sin eyes was hers.

Hers.

Finally. After all these years of hoping and praying that he was the one who would have an unbreakable psychic connection with her, the wish had come true. He would come for her. She knew it.

They’d barely touched tonight at the barbecue at the Wolf Creek Ranch. Big Joe McKinnon, the pack’s new alpha had taken Quinn, his newly consummated mate by the hand. Joy propelled Rayne to her feet as she took a step through the crowd and toward the bandstand where the couple had gone to make an announcement. Suddenly, she brushed against six foot four inches of steely-hard muscle. She smelled the familiar scent of clean, masculine cologne and stared into the black eyes that featured prominently in most of her dreams.

“Ringo,” she gasped as his hands reached out to steady her.

“Steady there, darlin’.”

He sucked in a breath and so did she. Their eyes connected and held.

Around her the world narrowed dramatically as a low buzz of energy zipped through her system. Instantly her panties were drenched and a ball of lust tightened low in her belly. Her first thought was to press her thighs together to soothe the harsh ache in her pussy. “Wha—”

“Fuck. No. This can’t be happening,” Ringo murmured huskily. He released her as if burned and shoved his fingers through his thick, black hair. His nostrils flared. His breath whipped in and out of his lungs as if he he’d run a race.

Rayne could do nothing but stare. Ringo’s eyes narrowed on her seconds before he grabbed her arm and ushered her toward the kitchen door of the house. His grip was strong but she didn’t mind. Even a simple touch from him set her on fire. In the distance she heard shouts of “Happy consummation” from the lycan population of Cloverfield, Texas. But then she heard nothing because Ringo led her through the door, pressed her against the wall and took her mouth with a hunger she’d never experienced before. Those lips, that to others might seem cruel, softened over hers and then he nipped her bottom lip. “This can’t be happening. It can’t be you.”

He regretted her. He didn’t want her. 

Copyright © REGINA CARLYSLE, 2009

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

 

Ringo Ramone raced through the hot Texas night as if someone had lit a fire under his ass. He dodged rocks and prickly cactus, ignoring the heat that singed the pads of his paws, too furious to notice. Rage beat at him until he practically shook with it. He sniffed the ground in an effort to pick up the trail of the rogue lycans who’d stolen his mate.

His mate!

Fuck!

He’d always suspected Rayne Poteet might be the one but he hadn’t wanted that. For years he’d watched her from a distance, drawn to her sweetness, her beauty. He’d slunk around in the shadows, fighting off the feelings that twisted tightly in his chest every time she so much as spoke to him. He wasn’t an emotional man and didn’t plan on changing for any she-wolf, not even Rayne. Besides, she was too good for the likes of him. He was a motherless son of a rat-bastard traitor and that’s all he’d ever be.

The huge black wolf stopped and panted. How much ground had he covered since leaving the ranch house to hunt down the men who’d taken her? Tonight they’d had a barbecue for the town of Cloverfield. It had been a happy time and, Lord knew, he’d seen too few of those in his many years. His alpha Joe McKinnon, and Quinn, the daughter of their former alpha, were celebrating their Consummation Ceremony when it all went down. Like a bunch of raving idiots, the males of the pack had been lured by rogue lycans to the south pasture while others had circled back to the ranch to steal away their unmated females.

Rayne!

She was his predestined mate. He hadn’t known it until tonight and then, in one instant of stupidity, she’d been taken before he’d had time to absorb it all. Spotting a grove of mesquite in the distance, he loped over, shifting as he ran. Naked, dripping with sweat, he leaned against the rough bark and closed his eyes. Ringo couldn’t help it. The look on her face tonight as the knowledge of their empathic connection, the proof they were a meant to be a mated pair, had gone through him like a blast from a flamethrower. Her pretty, sherry-colored eyes had gone wide as energy sizzled between them.

His cock thickened as he remembered.

Damn his horny ass!

This wasn’t the time.

Shifting back into his wolf, he took off again, scenting the air. Off in the distance, he spotted an old line shack at the edge of the ranch property. If worse came to worst, he could bring her to it. It was kept fully stocked with provisions.

Ringo continued on, running endlessly across the empty stretch of prairie. Suddenly, he spotted it. A low campfire was flickering in the predawn darkness, shooting up occasional sparks. Laughter. Male laughter. His heightened senses picked up the sound of Rayne’s breathing. It was accelerated.

A truck was parked at the very edge of the meager light and two naked men sat on the ground several yards from where Rayne lay, trussed up like a Christmas turkey. Her clothes were a mess and there were scratches on her legs. Her copper-colored hair was spread across the dusty ground like a pool of sunshine and he got a glimpse of her bare white belly and the tiny red panties she wore.

“What are we gonna do with her? Zavalos must be dead. He hasn’t shown up like he was supposed to.”

The other lycan stood and, planting his fists on his hips, stared across the fire at Rayne. Ringo lowered his body closer to the ground and moved slowly toward them, listening.

“Something went wrong. I feel it,” he said. “Let’s load her into the truck and head south. We can’t wait out here anymore. It’ll be morning soon.”

“Please. Let me go,” Rayne said.

Ringo’s heart thumped then sped in his chest at the sound of her voice. Just hearing it threatened to send him to his knees.

“Can’t do that, Red.” This from the man who was crouched before the fire. “Our pack is short on unmated females and you’ll have to come with us.”

“But I-I am,” she stammered. “I have a mate.”

The lycan who stood stalked toward her and, grabbing her shoulders, jerked her upright and slapped her. The crack of it shredded the quiet.

Red rage clouded Ringo’s mind. His fur bristled. They would die this night for trespassing on what was his. His snarl of outrage made his prey go still. With death and destruction on his mind, he leaped.

* * * * *

The first lycan had thrown her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and run with her into the night to where a truck waited. A second man had bound her hands and feet with duct tape and covered her mouth with it too. Callously they’d tossed her into the bed of the truck and driven off. She heard the cries of the McCafferty sisters and wanted to scream her outrage. They were just girls really, no older than seventeen. No doubt they were being handled in the same sickening manner. A second truck, carrying the girls, went in another direction.

Oh gods!

There was no way in hell she could help them.

Terrified, shaken beyond anything in her experience, she’d lain there as tears leaked from her eyes. All she could see was the smattering of stars overhead. All she could hear was the sound of the truck engine and the wind as it whistled by. Closing her eyes, she prayed for Ringo.

Yes, she was lycan but not yet fully in working order, so to speak. She’d yet to shift and only tonight had it been revealed that Ringo, the lanky, dark wolf with the blacker–than-sin eyes was hers.

Hers.

Finally. After all these years of hoping and praying that he was the one who would have an unbreakable psychic connection with her, the wish had come true. He would come for her. She knew it.

They’d barely touched tonight at the barbecue at the Wolf Creek Ranch. Big Joe McKinnon, the pack’s new alpha had taken Quinn, his newly consummated mate by the hand. Joy propelled Rayne to her feet as she took a step through the crowd and toward the bandstand where the couple had gone to make an announcement. Suddenly, she brushed against six foot four inches of steely-hard muscle. She smelled the familiar scent of clean, masculine cologne and stared into the black eyes that featured prominently in most of her dreams.

“Ringo,” she gasped as his hands reached out to steady her.

“Steady there, darlin’.”

He sucked in a breath and so did she. Their eyes connected and held.

Around her the world narrowed dramatically as a low buzz of energy zipped through her system. Instantly her panties were drenched and a ball of lust tightened low in her belly. Her first thought was to press her thighs together to soothe the harsh ache in her pussy. “Wha—”

“Fuck. No. This can’t be happening,” Ringo murmured huskily. He released her as if burned and shoved his fingers through his thick, black hair. His nostrils flared. His breath whipped in and out of his lungs as if he he’d run a race.

Rayne could do nothing but stare. Ringo’s eyes narrowed on her seconds before he grabbed her arm and ushered her toward the kitchen door of the house. His grip was strong but she didn’t mind. Even a simple touch from him set her on fire. In the distance she heard shouts of “Happy consummation” from the lycan population of Cloverfield, Texas. But then she heard nothing because Ringo led her through the door, pressed her against the wall and took her mouth with a hunger she’d never experienced before. Those lips, that to others might seem cruel, softened over hers and then he nipped her bottom lip. “This can’t be happening. It can’t be you.”

He regretted her. He didn’t want her.

Saturday Sexcerpt – Handcuffs and Lies by Bronwyn Green

 

You are in for a treat Naughty Girls – this is from Bronwyn’s August release, Handcuffs and Lies available now at Resplendence Publishing.

“You sure this is where you want to go?” the cab driver asked.

Michael’s motorcycle was parked in front of the house. “Yeah.”

The guy eyed her in the rearview mirror as he stopped in the middle of the street. “If you say so.”

She passed the fare over the seat. “Are you going to be in this area for a bit?”

“In this neighborhood? Hell, no.” He paused and scrawled something on a piece of paper. “Here’s my number. Call me if you need a ride.”

“Thanks.” Tori shoved the scrap of paper in her wallet and slid out of the car.

“Be careful out there,” the driver cautioned.

She smiled at him and hoped she wasn’t about to do something irreparably stupid.

Hands clammy, she wiped them on her jeans and walked up the rickety front steps to knock on the door. Her knuckled rasped against the peeling paint on the warped screen door. Nerves strung tightly, she jammed her hands in her pockets and waited for someone to answer.

The heavy front door swung open with a whoosh and she came face to face with the man she’d studiously avoided for three years. His rich brown hair hung loosely to his shoulders and he looked like hadn’t shaved for days. Brilliant hazel eyes stared at her registering surprise quickly followed by anger.

“I—I need to talk to you,” she stammered.

The sculpted shape of his lips thinned as they pulled into a tight line. Over his shoulder, she caught sight of three men coming toward the door. Instinctively, she retreated, but Michael’s arm snaked out and he tugged her against the hard planes of his body. Her traitorous nipples responded immediately. Despite the fact she could barely recall their one drunken encounter, her body certainly remembered, and it wanted more.

His eyes, intense and unwavering, bored into hers, and he lowered his head. Her heart sank as she realized he was going to kiss her and she couldn’t convince herself to move away. His mouth brushed against hers. The barest contact held her breath captive in her throat. It was all she could do to hold herself still and not shove her tongue in his mouth. With his chest skimming her breasts, his lips traced the line of her jaw, up to her ear.

“Act like you want me, or we’re both dead,” he growled softly.

With shaking hands, she reached out and grabbed his hips, pulling him flush against her. Michael fisted his hand in her hair and cupped the back of her head. Streaks of pleasure shot along her spine as his fingernails scraped across her scalp.

His lips descended on hers and his tongue slipped past her shocked defenses. A whimper escaped her as she released her pent up breath into his mouth. With a quiet groan, he pressed his lips to hers as he turned her and immobilized her against the door. Wrapping her leg around his, she kissed him back, her tongue darting into his mouth. He tasted like coffee, dark and rich, and something else that was entirely masculine and Michael. In spite of her misgivings, desire curled through her body, dampening her panties and pebbling her nipples where they pressed into his chest.

“Hey Mikey, we gonna finish our business, or what? ‘Less of course you’re sharing.”

The audible leer in the other man’s voice sent a shiver down her spine.

“Not a word,” Michael whispered against her lips. Turning his head toward the other men, he chuckled. It sounded cold. Deadly. “Sorry boys, this one’s mine.”

“You gonna fuck her, or are we gonna finish this?”

Michael looked at her, his eyes glowing with anger. “Oh yeah—I’m definitely gonna fuck her. Just as soon as we’re done here.”

Tori’s stomach dropped like an out-of-control freight elevator as she stared into his glittering hazel eyes. She should have waited for him to call back. She was so over her head.

Michael slid his hand possessively up her ribcage, stopping only when it rested under the swell of her breast. He held her gaze, as if daring her to object.

The three men drew closer. The man who’d spoken to Michael earlier reached out and tugged at one of her short curls. His eyes were small and cruel looking as he appraised her body with a hard stare. “C’mon darlin’, lemme show you what a real man is like.” He jerked his thumb toward a tall, lanky guy with watery blue eyes. “Me an’ my boy here can show you a real good time.”

Forcing a smile, Tori hooked her fingers in the front of Michael’s waistband. The backs of her fingers brushed across his tightly muscled stomach and his body heat soaked into her skin. She looked up at him through her lashes. “Sorry guys, Michael promised me the ride of my life.”

His fingers convulsed on her ribcage at her husky words. She knew, even if the others were clueless, that he was ready to throttle her.

            Michael chuckled again, that same cold, dead sound. “Let’s get this over with,” he said to the others. With ice in his eyes, he turned back to Tori and pulled her closer, close enough to feel the raging erection pushing against his fly. “Seems I’ve got things to do.”

Don’t forget to check out these other Titles from Bronwyn Green!

Saturday Sexcerpt – The Human Touch by JL Wilson

Here’s an excerpt from Human Touch, which released on September 4 from The Wild Rose Press. It’s the story of Cyrus Durant, an undercover cop on Delmorna, a distant planet. He’s undercover as a Paid Male to Isbel Kensington, a suspected traitor. There’s only one problem: Cyrus is a programmed clone & he’s never had sex before.

Until now ….

“Is it supposed to feel like this?” he whispered, exploring her with his warm, restless fingers. His hips took on a rhythm of their own, a sliding, grinding, pulsing motion making her squirm with anticipation. Isbel’s orgasm started at her toes and worked its way upward until she was solar-charged with it.

“Like what?” Isbel managed to gasp, her entire body beginning to ignite.

His hands dug into her bottom, pulling her hard against him. He ground into her body as Isbel felt the explosion begin. “Like I’m being torn apart by you and I love it,” he gasped. “Oh, Isbel—what’s happening?”

Cyrus expanded in her, filling her even more. “It’s an orgasm,” she murmured.

He put his hands on the sides of her head, holding her face cradled in his palms. His body pushed her against the platform as he stared into her eyes while his orgasm rocked through him. “Isbel,” he breathed. She saw pleasure wash through him, shaking him. Isbel longed to close her eyes so he wouldn’t see the pleasure she, too, was feeling. But his eyes hypnotized her and she had to watch as his expression changed to something like pain then a stunned pleasure. Then her own orgasm began, washing through her. He held her pinioned by his body, pulsing in her as the pleasure rolled through her like the tide.

When it finished, she clung to Cyrus, her body so sated she felt boneless. The water washed over them while she was suspended in love and pleasure. He stared at her with a look of such awe she touched his face gently. “That’s what it feels like, Cyrus.”

He shook his head, dazed. “I’m surprised anyone gets out of bed. It feels so good.”

She laughed aloud then slid her hands over his arms. They were still connected by their sated bodies. She squeezed experimentally and he twitched then began to harden. “My, my.”

He looked surprised. “I didn’t know that could happen.”

She laughed again but reality was starting to intrude on her happiness. “Cyrus?”

“Hmm?” He was staring at her breasts, the fascinated look on his face making it evident he’d never been so close to breasts before.

“Why is a virgin a PM?”

He raised his eyes slowly to meet hers.

Saturday Sexcerpt – Surrender Love by Kayelle Allen

Warning:  Content below contains M/M love.

When I asked Kayelle for a Sexcerpt this is what she gave me. 

This is from my latest book, Surrender Love. Remember, you asked for Sexy!

This scene takes place shortly after Luc Saint-Cyr and Izzorah “Rah” Ceeow make love the first time. Luc helps the shuddering Izzorah into a bath and wraps himself around him to keep him warm, resulting in a hot surprise for Luc.

=======================

Set into a corner, the tub had three angles. Luc settled into the biggest and drew Izzorah back against him, between his legs. He grabbed a hand towel, dipped it into the hot water, and then draped it around Izzorah’s shoulders. He wrapped his arms around him from behind.

“There, love. Warmer?” He pressed one cheek against Izzorah’s and held him until his shivering lessened. “What a perfect beauty you are.” Luc splashed hot water over him, wetting down the towel. He drew him close. “I loved seeing you come apart in my arms.” He laid a hand on Izzorah’s cheek and leaned down for a kiss.

Izzorah tilted up his face.

“Mine,” Luc whispered against his lover’s lips, and sank into the welcoming heat of his mouth. He broke away to take a deep breath. “Mmm.” He held him fast, nibbling little kisses down his cheek and out his jaw. “I want to kiss you forever.”

Izzorah twisted around to face him, chest flat against Luc’s, arms beneath Luc’s to hold himself close. He devoured Luc’s mouth with kisses.

Izzorah’s passion inundated him, and Luc groaned with pleasure. Feet out, Luc braced himself and wrapped both arms around his lover. He slid his hands over the wet velvet of Izzorah’s skinfur, the solid muscle beneath. Exploring, Luc skimmed down Izzorah’s body, out over the firm cheeks of his ass. He pulled him up tight against his own rigid cock, gasping at the unexpected joy of a hand around his shaft.

“Want to please you,” Izzorah kissed down the side of his throat, along the top of his shoulder. “Show me how.”

“Kosset, as hot as I am for you, all you have to do is move.”

“What is a kosset?”

Luc brushed a kiss across his mouth. “The ultimate luxury. A treasure beyond compare. That’s what you are to me.”

Izzorah blazed one of his perfect smiles up at Luc. “Do you like this?” Hand tight around Luc’s cock, he slid it down, rocked it back up, fingertips sliding along the underside.

“Oh!” Luc hissed in air over his teeth, eyes shut. “Oh, oh, yes, kosset. Yes.”

Izzorah squeezed as he stroked. “I want to watch your face while you come. I want to see you lose it like I did. I want to make you as crazy as you did me.”

Luc laughed-sobbed, the pleasure piercing. “Tighter. Yes! Oh, yes. Like–like that. Mmm.” He thunked his head back against the wall. “Perfect, Rah. Keep–mmm–yes.”

“You are the one who’s beautiful, Luc.”

He opened his mouth as Izzorah rose to capture it, and stroked his tongue across fangs half-again as long as a human’s canines. Luc sighed, lost in the tender roughness of a Kin’s kiss. The feel of that cat-scratchy tongue along the corners of his mouth sucked a raspy groan out of him.

The wet heat of the water, the tightness of his lover’s grasp, the squeezing, milking pressure sent Luc close to release.

Izzorah kissed along Luc’s throat to where shoulder and neck met. Open-mouthed, he dragged his fangs across Luc’s skin.

The sting of fangs jerked Luc to the edge, the precipice of climax. “Rah! Oh, yes. Yes. Bite me.” He wrapped both hands behind Izzorah’s head and held him against his shoulder. “Hard. Like you love me. Like you mean it.”

Luc stiffened, his neck as rigid as his cock as the piercing bite sank home.

=====================

Izzorah — A little feral, a little innocent, all male. Fleeing a world that denies him basic rights, forced into a society blind to his needs, his music keeps him alive. When a freak accident throws him into the care of the most powerful man in the empire, the attention he receives is beyond anything he’d ever dreamed. But is the attraction he feels toward his rescuer gratitude, lust, or a deeper, abiding call to yield all that he is?

Luc — the prestige of his power, wealth, and influence directs an empire scattered across the stars. His word shapes the foundations of business and his financial prowess is of mythic proportions. Yet beneath the myths beats the heart of a man who craves what he has never given and is certain he will always be denied — steadfast, faithful love.

This is book one of the Surrender series; Love, Trust, and Will.

Surrender Love
It’s not rebound, payback, loneliness, or the great sex, and it’s way beyond love. It’s surrender.

Buy link:  http://www.loose-id.com/prod-Surrender__Love-887.aspx
Genre:  Erotic M/M Science Fiction Romance, GLBT Multicultural/Interspecies Action Adventure
ISBN: 978-1-59632-874-7
Heat Level:  R=graphic sex, plus extreme cuddling, tenderness, and the seduction of a virgin who knows exactly what he wants
Warnings:  male/male sex, explicit content, anal sex, violence (referenced, not portrayed)
Format:  ebook in multiple formats, including Kindle

Saturday Sexcerpt – My Lord Raven by Jan Scarborough

Here’s an excerpt from My Lord Raven by Jan Scarborough Naughty Boys and Girls!

He entered the solar, shut and bolted the door. Nothing but silence greeted him. Turning, he gauged his surroundings, shadowy in the dim light of candles on two wall sconces and the one he carried. As befit the lord’s station, there was an enormous four-posted canopy bed in the middle of the room, already curtained by linen hangings. Other than that, the contents of the room were a few stools and chests, Castilian carpets on the stone floor and a tapestry suspended on the far wall.

As he gazed across the room, eagerness almost overcame him. He controlled the fires that threatened to explode within and walked forward, placing the candlestick on a chest for safety. Where was Olwen? A heady floral scent filled his nostrils. Preparations had been made for him that was certain. He surmised that she was awaiting him in bed.

In a hurry now, he sat on one of the stools, wishing for Rhys attendance, and pulled off his boots. Rising, he stripped off his outer surcoat and the tunic beneath. Standing in only his braies, his feet upon the cold stones, he stifled the need to cry out with joy. Undignified as it was, he could hardly suppress the strange emotions that ranged through him.

Bran fumbled as he untied the strings that held his undergarments around his waist, and then dropped them to the floor. Cool air bathed him, soothing his overheated skin. He approached the high bed, his heart thrumming mercilessly in his chest.

“Olwen?” No answer. He grasped the linen hanging and jerked it back.

Somewhere in the midst of the sable coverlets, his wife slept, her gentle breathing music to his ears.

“Cariad,” he sighed.

Unwilling to disturb her, but eager to see her, Bran lifted the candlestick and brought it nearer to the bed. The soft light spread a dim illumination, enough for him to see Olwen’s gentle brow, peaceful now in slumber. Her fair lashes touched her high cheekbones, her full lips relaxed. Her hair, feathering around her, was smoothed so that it created a natural drape for her ample breasts, and her arms outside of the covers, were pale, her fingers long and tapered.

Bran reached across the bed and touched her velvety hand, fascinated by its beauty. This woman belonged to him. Legally. Physically. He was in awe of her for that reason. Gently, he slid his fingers under hers, holding her hand, rubbing her short, sturdy nails with his thumb. The pad of her right thumb was roughened, almost as if something had nicked it. The thought of any injury coming to his precious possession angered him.

Filled with an instant, overwhelming need to protect her, Bran snuffed out the candle and placed it aside. Carefully, so not to awaken her, he climbed into bed, leaving the hanging drawn back. The mattress sagged beneath his weight. He slipped under the heavy coverlets, feeling the cool sheets on his warm skin, and stretched out, pulling the fur over both their shoulders.

His wife sighed in her sleep and turned on her side to face him. He studied her in the dim light that was left from the dying fire, inhaling her intoxicating floral scent, feeling her breath against his face. How he ached to draw her to him. To feel the swell of her breasts against his chest. To feel his swelling inside her.

Bran tamped down his aching arousal. Snuggling deeper under the coverlets, he shut his eyes. In a moment, he would awaken her. In a moment, he would do what needed to be done, he thought as he relaxed and drifted off to sleep.

***

“Don’t move!”

Awake in a heartbeat, Bran’s eyes opened with alarm, his senses suddenly alert. Something sharp pressed against his throat.

She loomed above him, straddling his hips, her naked body outlined in the shadows.

“You have me at your advantage, my lady,” he said as courteously as if he’d been at court.

“So tell me, my lord raven,” his wife hissed. “Why did you kill Gilbert Fitzalan, Earl Rothmore?”

You may find Jan’s books at:

www.janscarbrough.com

Join me on Monday for the LSB Labor Day Blog Tour!

Tina

Saturday Sexcerpt – Trouble with the Law by Tatiana March

Hey Naughty Boys and Girls Tatiana is sharing the Saturday Sexcerpt with uss!!! This is from Trouble with the Law.

 “No,” he told her. “I want to watch you watching me.”

His gaze locked with hers as he methodically unfastened the buckle on his belt. Rather than reach for the zip on his jeans, he slowly pulled the worn leather band out of the loops and folded it in his hands before stepping aside to set it down on the desk by the window.

Then he scraped out the chair and settled on it, lifting one foot over the opposite knee. Justine felt her mouth go dry. She hadn’t looked at his feet before, hadn’t realized that instead of shoes or sneakers he wore hiking boots. She listened to the sounds as he yanked the laces loose, and one by one removed the boots and the socks underneath.

Still looking at her, he stood up and raised his hands to his waist. “Sorry,” he said, and a quick smile quirked his lips. “Commando. I was in too much of a hurry to look for underwear when I got dressed.”

The metal zip rustled as his hands edged down, and then with a sweeping motion he shoved the jeans down his powerful legs. His erection swung free, pointing at the ceiling. Justine couldn’t help but stare, her mouth ajar. Her breath ran in swift gasps as she tore her attention back to his face.

She caught the flash of pure male satisfaction in his eyes, and then he moved to the bed and crouched down beside her. “Happy birthday,” he murmured, brushing a chaste kiss on her lips.

Justine laid the flat of her palm over his chest. She could feel the warmth of his skin, the slight moisture the steamy night had drawn on it, and the steady pounding of his heart. She slid her hand along the smooth muscles, following the downward taper of the dark line of hairs.

“Not yet,” he murmured. Gently but firmly he placed his hands against her shoulders and pushed, until she fell back to lie down on the bed. “I want to kiss every inch of your body. I don’t care how long it takes, but I’m going to make you mine like no man has ever made you his. I’m going to find nerve endings on your body you didn’t know existed.” A crooked smile played around his mouth. “And I’ll do my best to have you begging before I finally slip inside you.”

Justine closed her eyes. A soft moan rose deep within her as she felt the wet heat of his mouth over her collarbone. Her back arched, exposing her throat. His kisses trailed along her neck. His breath brushed over her breast as he edged down her side, and she realized he had meant it literally when he told her that he’d kiss her everywhere.

The drag of his lips in the sensitive dip of her waist sent her shivering. Her arms flew up from her sides, and she buried her fingers into his dark curls, attempting to guide him to her breasts.

“No,” he said, capturing her wrists and pressing her hands down against the bedspread. “Not yet.”

He roamed her body, found the tender spots inside her elbows and at the back of her knees. In between kisses, he smoothed his palms over her skin, feeling her contours–the curve of her hips, the swell of her buttocks, the long line of her legs–as he slowly removed the few scraps of clothing she wore.

“Please,” she whispered as he worked his way up along the inside of her thigh. He raised his head to look at her, and then he laid his hand against her abdomen, heavy and warm. Slowly, he inched his touch over her belly, finally reaching the valley between her breasts, and halting there.

Justine closed her eyes against the barrage of sensations. She wriggled in a desperate search, until his hand met her breast. She cried as a wave of tension gripped her, making her feel as if her body was a knot he’d suddenly yanked unbearably tight.

“Please,” she murmured. When his thumbs brushed over her nipples, she jerked up on the bed, a sharp cry escaping her throat.

He hushed her, but she couldn’t control her voice. A keening sound filled the dimly lit room. She felt the mattress dip as he climbed up beside her, and then his mouth closed over hers, in a slow kiss that dulled her cries to a muffled whimper.

And just when she thought she could bear it no more, he leaned on his elbows and covered her body with his, fitting his legs between hers. “Are you sure?” he asked, his words low and husky.

“Yes,” she told him, and shifted beneath him to welcome him.

Such a shame we have to wait until November for more.  Meanwhile you can beg Tatiana for more at her website.

www.tatianamarch.com

See you there,

Tina

Saturday Sexcerpt – Hot Crossed Buns by Maddie James

Hot Crossed Buns by Maddie James

 Here is a short blurb and excerpt book two in the Matchmaking Chef series titled Hot Crossed Buns

 Blurb:

 Wild Katie Long, she’ll never settle down, will she? But Chris Marks has had his eye set on her for a long time. She just doesn’t know it yet. When Chris hires Suzie to set him up with a romantic dinner for two, so he can woo Katie in style, Suzie does all she can to set the scene and the mood. Thing is, Katie isn’t about to be wooed and she’s hotter than hot crossed buns when she figures out what Suzie and Chris are up to.

 Then Suzie turns the tables on both of them, when she switches the mood by supplying Chris with a couple of items that just might tame Katie after all: handcuffs and a leather riding crop.

 Excerpt:

 Behind her, the porch creaked and at once, she felt something cold clamp onto her right wrist.

“Sh, sweetheart. Don’t turn around. Don’t say a word. And do exactly as I say.”

Chris.

Oh, hell’s bell’s.

Five minutes blurred by in a nano-second. He’d cuffed her, carried her upstairs, stripped her naked, and secured her to the four-poster bed with two sets of cuffs before she could protest.

Although she did protest. A little.

“What do you think you are doing?” she told him.

“Making you come to your senses.”

“I know my senses and they are just fine. Let me go, you bastard.”

“Not a chance, Sweet Pea. Tonight your ass is mine.”

“You can’t hog-tie me and…” Shit. She got it.

Oh, damn. Damn! Bless your ever-loving, matchmaking heart, Ms. Suzie-Q!

She trembled inside a little at the anticipation of what was to come.

Apparently, Suzie hadn’t forgotten what she’d told her last night and apparently, she had somehow communicated those private needs and desires of hers to Chris.

Apparently!

She strained against the cuffs looking up at him. From behind his back, he pulled out a leather riding crop and straight away, her pelvis palpitated.

Saturday Sexcerpt – The Centurion & The Queen

by Minnette Meador

THE CENTURION & THE QUEEN
by Minnette Meador

 CHAPTER ELEVEN
“Will you behave yourself?” he asked.

 “No, Marius,” she whispered, her voice deep with hunger and mirth. “Do you want me to?”

His lips curled into a grin, and he released her face and hands. “Absolutely not.”

With a fluid motion, he pulled the tunic and cloak off her body and watched the sudden chill make her breasts shiver.

Marius pressed his lips to hers slowly, evenly, sending a ripple through her flesh. Delia could feel nothing but the weight of him as it enfolded her, pressed against the length of her naked body. His strong arms wrapped around her and his wide chest crushed her breasts, her nipples begging for his lips. The feel of the hard skin and taut muscles of his buttocks under her fingers was exquisite. The pressure of his hardness grew against her pelvis, made her whimper with longing for it.

All at once, there was nothing in Delia’s universe but Marius kissing, touching, biting, and exploring every inch of her body with his mouth, his tongue, and his hands. For the first time in her life, Delia forgot everything else. The bliss sent an earthquake through her loins, causing her body to teeter on the brink of the sublime.

Nothing in her experience prepared her for the new sensations; the tingle in her neck, arms, and hands; the tightening of her belly when a wave of lightning engulfed it; the escape of her moisture as it saturated her, swelled her. Once unrestrained, her passion was urgent, desperate, and critical, but Marius forced her to yield to his slow pace, his unhurried touch, bringing her, again and again, to the edge of rapture and then denying her, until she wanted to beg for it.

Marius’ lips devoured hers; his tongue explored her mouth, her neck, and her ears. His teeth found her breasts and her nipples, his tongue torturing them until she moaned in need.

With a movement that startled her, he forced her legs open with strong arms, cupped her buttock in his hands, and lifted her hips to meet his mouth. With gentle, delicate flicks of his tongue, he brought her close to the edge so many times she lost count in delirium. Delia could do nothing more than squeeze the blankets.

His hands finally opened her, slowly, gradually, insistently. With his thumbs, he spread the softness, the moistness, grabbing her wrist to force her own hand to feel for herself, and laughing at her greedy caresses. Marius moved Delia’s fingers to the soft head of his erection where she let them linger and explore, running the tiny, delicate pads over the heavily veined skin. Delia could feel herself blush and prickles of pleasure moved through her arms when he grew harder in her hand. She squeezed instinctively, feeling the muscle throb and flex, forcing her to tighten her grip. More moisture drenched her in anticipation.

Marius’ fingers slowly entered her, first one for a slow count of ten and then a second one, stretching her, kneading her hot flesh, preparing it for something more. He stroked her with a gentle urgency and held onto her when the first wave of ecstasy took hold, making her back arch uncontrollably and forcing a scream from her lips.

Marius was on his knees, his erection full. He pulled Delia onto his lap, and slowly, very slowly, an eternity it seemed, slid her down the stiff muscle, inch by inch, sucking her erect nipples into his mouth, his teeth, and guiding her body with his warm hands.

When she was full with him, hardly able to take him all, she opened her eyes and touched his dark, creased face, losing herself in his black gaze. Love flooded her senses, mingled with the urgings of her body, and left her breathless. There had never been a moment like this in Delia’s experience. Marius began his rhythm—up and down, slowly, methodically, in and out. Again, Delia could barely hold her passions, but Marius used his eyes to command her to comply with his touch, bringing her repeatedly to the edge, but not letting her pass over. Pulling her wrists behind her back, he held them in one hand, forcing her to submit to the rhythm of his body.

Soon, their breathing, the movements of their bodies, and even the hiss of their blood, reflected on their glistening skin and resonated in their pounding hearts.

Finally, as the beat of their desire reached its climax, Marius let go of her wrists, wrapped his arms around her, and let them release together in an explosion that neither of them had ever experienced before. The room disappeared, the night became a cloudy blackness around them, and they clung to each other as if their lives, their minds, and their souls had melted into the darkness. The only sound was the scream of voices echoing repeatedly in their ears.

Ooh that was a tasty little Sexcerpt.  Yummy!  Remember you can find Minnette Meador online at:

Webpage

Blog

mmeador@minnettemeador.com

Saturday Sexcerpt – Hallie’s Cats by Fran Lee

Welcome Back Naughty Boys and Girls.  Join me in reading today’s Sexcerpt from Hallie’s Cats by Fran Lee.

Blurb:

 

Hallie James loves cats—she just never realized she was one herself. Not until she met delicious leopard shifters Gar and Cal, one sinfully dark, one beautifully golden. 

A terrifying meeting with a runaway pit bull lands her on her butt on the sidewalk. But when the dog’s owners appear out of nowhere, asking if she’s all right, Hallie has the most shocking reaction to their mouthwatering…scent!

 

Cat pheromones are powerful, and Gar and Cal’s attraction to the human is as instant as hers is to them. Hallie finds herself caught between two cats—hot and hard Gar, and his hot and delicious little brother Cal. When a gal is confronted with such a succulent choice, why not enjoy the fact that cats aren’t monogamous?

 

Excerpt:

“You all right?” The quiet, deep voice was directly behind her. The unexpectedness of the question finished her. The milk exploded, drenching her in white, and she gave a shriek of shock, falling sideways onto the pitted sidewalk, her paralyzed body going suddenly limp. It felt as if her heart was going to explode like the damn milk! She knew the voice had come from the other side of the tall, wrought iron and stone wall, but the next thing she saw was a man bending over her, reaching out a hand to take her bags from her clenched hands.

What the hell? She blinked up at the man then back along the sidewalk. There was no gate except the one the dog had burst from, and that gate was over a hundred feet or more away. He would have had to climb or vault over the wall, and that, even for an athletic man, would take some doing.

“Sorry about Tigger. He isn’t dangerous but he can be pretty damn scary,” the deep, warm-honey voice murmured as she was relieved of her destroyed bag, then the intact one was lifted from her death grip. “Come on, and I’ll get you some towels.”

Hallie reached for the lean hand dangling in front of her face, and allowed the stranger to drag her up from her ignominious repose on the milk-splattered concrete. She patted herself down for possible injuries before she blinked up at him and rasped incredulously, “You call that…that…thing…Tigger?” Visions of a sweet boingy critter almost made her laugh.

It was then she saw him clearly for the first time, and she almost sat back down on the wet sidewalk again.

Stunning dark gold eyes in a face that dragged her breath away and held it captive, forcing her to fight for air. Odd eyes on a man whose hair was jet black. And after she managed to get past that face, her eyes slid down the long length of a body so utterly mouthwatering, she was sure she’d died and gone to heaven. Because there wasn’t a man alive who could possibly look that frigging good in a ratty T-shirt and torn jeans.

Those gorgeous eyes looked so concerned, she barely managed to restrain her raging libido before she blurted out something completely unsuitable, like a squeal of delight as she tackled him and abused him terribly. She had the insane desire to lick him. Nibble him!

Yeah, he should be worried! Walking around unprotected from random female attackers who would love to get a piece of all that marvelous— Ooooh! Hallie dragged her milk-wet hand out of his and forced a shaky laugh.

“Did my steak survive, or am I gonna have to go back down the hill and catch that bus back to the supermarket?”

Dark brows drew together over those glinting topaz eyes, and his hand shot out to stop her from sagging sideways again. “You probably shouldn’t try to get up yet,” that delicious warm-honey voice said, somewhere just above her left ear.

Why the hell am I sinking again?

“No! I-I’m…fine,” were the last words out of her mouth before he tilted oddly and vanished from her sight. Whoa, she was back on the damn sidewalk again? Oh, there he was, leaning down and reaching to check her pulse. Why the hell was he bending over her again? Mmmm, she would love to reach up and drag his gorgeous body down to her level. And what the hell was he…

“You think she’s sick?” a quiet male voice asked somewhere beyond her line of sight.

“I think she got a good solid whiff of pheromones. She’s totally out of it. Here, you get the bags,” that lovely warm-honey voice murmured, and she was suddenly rising from the sidewalk, floating, and then she was nuzzling into a hard chest and inhaling the delicious, heady scent of the man with the golden eyes. Ooooh, he’s totally edible!

“That’s not normal, is it?” That quiet voice again.

“No. I think she’s sensitive to us for some reason. I feel like a fucking catnip mouse.” The warm-honey voice sounded irritated, but who cared, when he smelled so damn marvelous?