The Turning Kiss (11 page)

He pulled her sweater off in an instant and then very quickly her bra. He stood back for a moment, watching her, exploring her bare flesh with his eyes. Her nipples went harder beneath his searching gaze.

“Ah, beautiful,” he murmured, his accent thicker, his tone reverent. “You look like… I don’t know. But I know your body, as though I’ve touched you before. Maybe I have, if only in my dreams. Ah, but this is no dream.”

“Touch me, Reece.”

Then he was on her, his big hands cupping her breasts. She arched, pushing into him, into the pleasure of his touch, his smooth, dry palms. When he thumbed her nipples she gasped, the sensation shooting straight to her sex, making her ache.

It was even better when he snaked one hand down and cupped her mound through her jeans. Almost too much. She was trembling with need.

She could not get the misty image of the bed out of her mind. His bed. Their naked bodies pressed together. Reece fucking her…

“Please, Reece.”

“All right, that’s enough of these damn clothes.” His voice was a ragged growl.

He unbuttoned and unzipped her jeans, then yanked them off, her lace panties coming with them.

Yes, to be naked in front of him. Open to his touch, thighs spread for him.

His pants were gone just as quickly. His erect cock sprouted from a nest of dark curls, the silky head already glistening with pre-come. Her mouth watered.

Then he was on her again, sliding to his knees on the floor, kissing her stomach. Holding on to her hips in a tight grasp, he pressed her back against the door again. And then he put his mouth on her.

There was nothing gentle or exploratory about his mouth. He dove right into her, licking her swollen pussy lips, lowering his hands to spread them wide, opening her up to his hot, invading tongue as he plunged into her. She trembled all over, her body shivering with pleasure. Waves of it, hot and hard, driving into her along with his wet tongue. She could come at any moment.

Then he swept his tongue upward, licked across her clit, and a shock lanced through her, pure ecstasy. He sucked the swollen nub of her clitoris into his mouth and sensation drove through her body. He worked her with his mouth: lips, teeth and tongue. Licking and sucking, harder and harder. And she came, a stabbing pleasure so sharp she shook with the force of it.

She was moaning, shivering, coming harder than she ever had in her life. And just when the tremors began to subside, he pushed his fingers into her, curving them until he caught her G-spot with his fingertips, and suddenly she was coming again. Coming all over his fingers and his hot, sucking, beautiful mouth.

Before the last ripples of orgasm had left her body, he rose to his feet and pressed against her once more.

She ran her hands over his shoulders, across his wide back, down to fill her hand with the rigid length of his cock. Oh yes, he was big, his cock a solid shaft of velvet in her palm. She could feel the blood pulsing beneath his flesh. The desire.

“Lord, you feel good, Destiny. As good as you taste.” He groaned when she tightened her grip. “Condom, damn it.”

He swept her into his arms, carried her though the house as though she were no larger than a doll. And even that embrace felt familiar to her.

This is where I belong.

But she was overwhelmed by the sexual connection. Yes that was it. Wasn’t it? She couldn’t think, desire still raging through her body.

He kicked open a door, and she wasn’t surprised to find herself being laid on a big bed in a half-darkened room. A room lit by the golden glow of an amber-tinted glass lamp on the nightstand.

Leaning over her, he kissed her lips, her cheek, trailed down her neck and drew one stiff nipple into his mouth. She arched off the bed, wanting more of him, pushing into his mouth. He swirled his tongue over the rigid peak and pleasure was electric, shocking, making her need to come again. When he began to suck she thought she would, from nothing more than his hot, wet mouth on her breast.

Reaching down to grasp his cock in her hand, she stroked the long, hard shaft. Her own sensations intensified.

He moaned, sucked harder before letting her nipple go to rasp out, “If you keep doing that, my darlin’, I’ll come right now in your hot little hand. Not that I wouldn’t love to. But I need to be inside you. And I want you to come again first.”

He slid his hand between her thighs. Two fingers pressed into her while he used his thumb to stroke her clit. He went back to work with his mouth again, licking her nipples, first one, then the other.

It was almost too much—his mouth on her, his clever fingers working her clit, pushing deep inside her. She wrapped her hand once more around his thick, pulsing cock, like satin-sheathed steel in her palm. Writhing beneath him, she knew she was going to come again any moment. She wanted him to come with her. Wanted to feel the power of his cock in her hand, the power of making him come.

Yes…

A Shifter, A Vampire and A Demon walk into a bar…

My Shifter Showmance

© 2010 R.G. Alexander

Shifting Reality, Book 1

Thomas Lyons is your average cat shifter. Cool, seductive…and bored out of his mind. With the new popularity of all things paranormal, he doesn’t see why he should hide anymore. When his half-demon technophile roommate hooks him up with a computer, Thomas starts a blog announcing to the world who and what he is. Oddly enough, the more he shares, the less he’s believed. In fact, people begin thinking it’s a new online series with fantastic effects.

Margo Sheffield doesn’t dance on tables anymore, not since her reckless naïveté cost her so much. These days, her only guilty pleasures are dark chocolate, shoes—and a certain website with a man whose purring voice sends shivers down her spine. When the show, Shifting Reality, offers a week in a haunted Scottish castle with the stars, it seems a far-off dream. But when that dream becomes reality, her boss’s insistence that she mix business with pleasure—or else—is more like a nightmare.

Thomas’s focus on the show is blown by the luscious, camera-shy handful. And Margo can barely think about contracts when she’s surrounded by newlywed ghost hunters, a matchmaking demon and a man whose addictive touch makes her head spin. A showmance is the last thing she needs, but with a sexy cat like Thomas on the prowl…she just can’t resist.

Enjoy the following excerpt for
My Shifter Showmance:

“None of that, now, Margo. Not between you and I.”

That was all the warning she got before she was spun around and lifted in the air to settle, breathless, straddling his lap. “Mr. Lyons, I think we should talk about—”

“Hush.” Thomas curled his fingers into her hair, pulling her down to meet his searching lips before she could get another word out. Margo’s last thought was,
Oh hell
, before the kiss scrambled her brain.

He growled, the pressure of his lips opening hers as he sought entrance. God, his taste. And the way he was kissing her, exactly the way she’d always imagined he would. Greedily, hungrily…perfectly.

Her sex pressed against his thickening erection, and through their clothes she could feel the heat of him. He was blazing. She slid her tongue across his fangs. His body jerked in reaction, and she did it again, loving the fact that she could make him respond to her. Make him as crazy as he was making her from one simple kiss. Who was she trying to fool? She’d been crazy for him since the moment she’d seen the first video. Her fingers dug into the muscles of his arms, wishing she could touch his bare skin, desperate for more contact.
Closer. Harder. More
.

“Margo, baby…” He’d pulled away. Why had he pulled away? She looked at the agonized need tightening his expression, her brows lowering in confusion when he shook his head. “I never in all my years imagined saying this, but we should stop. We shouldn’t do this here. And if you keep grinding against me, I won’t be able to stop myself from tossing you on this table and taking you right now, in full view of our online audience.”

Audience. The cameras. Hell. Chi and Liam were gone, but Margo knew each room had its own grouping of stationary cameras. She’d been
grinding
? Mortification stung her cheeks. She imagined the people online watching her behavior, maybe even her coworkers, and she tried to pull away, but he wouldn’t let her.

He stood, holding her struggling body easily in his arms and strode swiftly to the kitchen, nodding at the Goth servants before heading into the large pantry room and closing the door.

The lock turned with a click of finality, and Margo bit her lip. Would Darcy fire her for her inappropriate behavior? She huffed out a dark laugh. Her boss would no doubt wholeheartedly approve. As long as it got her those
Shifting Reality
rights.

He swept his hand out, drawing her gaze to the deep pantry filled with dry goods and empty jars. It was nearly the size of her bedroom in the insanely expensive cubbyhole she called an apartment. And the ceiling was so high, stocked to the rafters, that they actually had a sliding ladder leaning against one of the shelves.

Thomas caressed her jaw with his thumb, bringing her attention back to him. “There’s no sound equipment, no cameras here. Just you and I. Talk to me, Margo, please.” He ran his fingers through his hair, looking frustrated. “If I were Saint or Mac, I’d have a way to know what you’re thinking. Know why you look like you regret what just happened.”

“If you were Saint or Mac, I wouldn’t be in this pantry.” She spoke without thinking, flinched as she saw his pleased expression. Shit. Why didn’t she just tell him she only regretted he’d stopped? That she’d wanted to smother herself in chocolate and whipped cream and be his dessert? She sighed. “What I mean is— Hell, I don’t know what I mean. I think we should go to bed. Separately. To separate beds. Alone. We can talk about the reason we both know I’m here in the morning.”

Work, keep saying it, this is for work. Contract not coitus. Contract not coitus.

“I smell you.”

She crossed her arms defensively and looked at him askance. “I’m sorry?”

Thomas shook his head, his eyes going dark as he took a deep, lung filling breath. “Just, now that there’s no distraction, I can really
smell
you. It’s rich. Spicy and sweet. Like pumpkin mousse or, well, I’ve never smelled anyone quite like you.”

Pumpkin?
“You smell nice too. I’m assuming we both shower. What’s your point?” She was being belligerent, but she couldn’t seem to help it. She was having a hard time accepting how easily she’d lost control. The old Margo would no doubt have thrown caution to the wind, damned the cameras and danced for him on the table, perhaps torn off his buttons with her teeth. Which was one of the reasons she’d been buried beneath mountains of to do lists and restrained hairdos for the better part of a decade. The old Margo was nothing but trouble.

So was Thomas Lyons. His pupils had dilated, his strong features had sharpened and his cheeks looked flushed. He looked…feral. Wild. Like he was ready to pick up where they’d just left off, whether she liked it or not. Her slender thread of control began to fray once more. She should leave now. The pantry. The castle. The country.

Thomas blocked her way to the door. Did his fangs look longer? More intimidating? He towered over her, backing her up until her shoulders hit the ladder. He took her wrists in his hands and lifted her arms over her head. She gripped the rungs of the ladder, clinging instinctively, fascinated by the predatory look in his eyes.

“My point,” his voice was rough, needy, “is that you aren’t going anywhere, kitten. Regardless of what your mind is telling you to regret or run from, your body is speaking loud and clear. And it wants what I want.”

“What?”

Thomas leaned into her, his lips lightly caressing her neck as he whispered, “More.”

She loves them too much to change them. Until they turn the tables on her…

It’s Raining Men

© 2009 Crystal Jordan

In the Heat of the Night, Book Three

Every one of Candy’s werewolf instincts tells her that Michael is her mate. He’s a lawyer—smart, sophisticated, and handsome. The catch? He’s gay. There is no way she’s going to try to change who he is. Then she meets his lover Stephen, a seductive Fae-siren jazz singer, and she’s positive she’s got a screw loose somewhere. Mates with not one, but two gay men?

She’s definitely doomed to be single forever.

Michael and Stephen know that their unexpectedly flirtatious advances have thrown Candy for a loop. But there’s method to their madness—they’re both serious about her. And they plan to make sure she never spends another birthday alone.

Enjoy the following excerpt for
It’s Raining Men:

Fire flooded my system, and my hips moved in the kind of sensual rhythm I couldn’t control. I clung to him, opening my mouth on his neck to suck and nip at his salty flesh. The wolf demanded that I bite down hard. I shuddered, holding back on my instincts to move against him in wild abandon. He pushed his pelvis into mine, working me in the hard, insistent tempo that took me right to the edge of orgasm but didn’t allow me to fall over. “Michael, I’m so close. Please, I need more.”

“Not yet, not yet.” He froze, and I died a little. My claws slid forward and dug into his shoulders. He grunted and shrugged against my hold. I loosened my grip, stroking an apologetic hand down his back.

He startled when he looked at me, his mouth falling open in shock. I pressed my fingertip to my mouth, and I felt my fully extended fangs. My eyes would be icy werewolf blue, the wolf wanting her mate. And my appearance obviously scared the shit out of him. I expected to feel a pierce of regret, but the wolf was too much in control, and I was too far gone to care that he would reject me. Unwrapping my legs from around his waist, he set me on my feet. I nearly cried out again, for entirely different reasons. My clawed fingers flexed and I turned away, not daring to look at him. The emotional pain would come later, when only the woman was left to deal with the hurt.