Are you ready to get Dirty?

Dirty is Book One in Kylie Scott’s Dive Bar Series.

Meet Vaughn & Lydia on April 19th!

 

 

Heavy footsteps roused me from my stupor. I don’t know how long exactly I’d been sitting in the bathtub, staring off at nothing, pondering the catastrophe my life had become. Couldn’t have been too long since sunlight still lit the room.

The footsteps came closer and closer. And then they entered the room. Oh, shit. I froze, not even daring to breathe. There was a loud yawn, followed by the cracking of joints. Then a large hand reached in beside the closed shower curtain and turned on the tap. A torrent of ice cold water poured down. It was like a billion itty-bitty knives stabbing at my skin. All of the scratches and raw patches from earlier stung like shit. I gritted my teeth, shoulders hiked up to around my ears as if that would provide any protection.

Yep, I sat there, all huddled up, listening to the man take a leak.

Awesome. Just plain awesome.

Wasn’t like I could jump out and interrupt the man midflow. And say what? I knew this was not a good situation to get caught in.

1. I’d basically broken into this guy’s house.
2. And had then gone on making myself right at home, having a messy emotional breakdown in his bathtub.

Normal, rational people didn’t do this sort of thing. I didn’t even have a criminal record, had never particularly done anything outlandish or interesting until now. This was all Chris’s fault, the bastard. I’d just have to make the best of it and hope this guy had a sense of humor.

Just as the water began to warm, he flushed the john and freezing cold water drenched me anew. I’d been about to open my mouth and announce my presence, but that put an end to that. Needles of icy cold water pelted down on my skin. I fucking froze. Teeth gritted, I suppressed a squeal of pain and rage.

Then the shower curtain flew back.

“Shit!” The man was very tall, very naked, and very surprised. He stumbled back a step, a hand clutching at the bench behind him, eyes furious and wide. “What the hell?”

Good question.

I opened my mouth, closed it. Language skills had apparently abandoned me. In total silence, the man and I stared at each other.

Even with no clothing to take cues from, the dude was clearly the epitome of cool. He looked about my age, or maybe a little older. He had longish red-blond hair, dark blue eyes set in an angular face, a lean but muscular torso covered in tattoos, and a rather large cock. Not that I meant to check him out, it’s just kind of hard to ignore a penis and scrotum when they’re dangling right in front of your face. I tilted my head, trying to get some perspective. Every viewpoint, however, was equally shocking. There was dick as far as the eye could see.

And I should stop ogling him. Right.

“Hi.” With a calm I didn’t even vaguely feel, I reached up and turned off the tap. Much better. His monster penis had momentarily derailed me, but I was back on track now. Time to talk myself out of this mess. “Hey.”

“What the fuck are you doing in my house?” he asked flatly.

“Right. Well . . .” I neatly tucked my dripping-wet shoulder-length blond hair back behind my ears. As if that would help. My winged eyeliner and false lashes were probably halfway down my cheeks. “I, um, I . . .”

“You what?”

“I’m Lydia,” I said, the first thing to come to mind.

No reply. His handsome face, however, took on a distinctly pissy expression. Even his strawberry-blond hair seemed a fiery hue. Fine, so we weren’t swapping names and getting cozy. Fair enough. You wouldn’t believe how hard it was, keeping my eyes on his face. The struggle was real. It might have been due to my not seeing one in so long, but his dick seemed almost hypnotic. The thing had magical powers, I swear. It was so big and mobile, subtly swaying every time he moved. My gaze kept darting down despite my best efforts.

Finally he put me out of my misery, grabbing a towel off a nearby rack and wrapping it around his waist. It made for quite the hot-looking miniskirt. Not just any man could have pulled off such a look.

But back to my explanations.

“Ah, firstly, I’d just like to say sorry about this.” I waved a hand at him and his bathroom and, well everything, really. “For any inconvenience I might have caused here in your bathroom.”

The guy stood tall, looming over me with his hands on hips. Tattoos covered his arms to his wrists. Still, he had a whole lot of sinew on show. Definitely not the kind of man you’d want to mess with. Dude could probably snap me in half in a second. I bet he was a tattoo model, or a biker, or a pirate, or something. Something a lot hot and more than a little scary.

Shit. I really should have chosen another house.

“I don’t normally break into people’s places and hide out in their tub,” I babbled, on the verge of incoherency. “So I’m really sorry. Seriously. So very sorry. But you’ve got a lovely home.”

“That so?”

“Not that, I mean, that’s not why I’m here. I just . . .” Fucking hell, my mind was a disaster. I took a deep breath, letting it out nice and slow, before trying again. “I love the old Arts and Crafts bungalows, don’t you? They have such soul.”

His brows drew tight. “Are you high? What the fuck are you on?”

“Nothing!”

“You haven’t been popping any pills or snorting something?”

“No, I swear.”

“Nothing to drink?”

“I haven’t had anything,” I said, but the suspicion and anger still lined his face. Paired with the stubble on his chin and the shadows beneath his eyes, my unwilling host was one tired, cranky man. Couldn’t really blame him.

“So you’re completely sober,” he said.

“Completely.”

A pause.

“You’re thinking I’m bat-shit crazy now, aren’t you?” I asked, despite the answer sitting plain as day on his pretty face.

“Pretty much, yeah.”

Oh, god. “I’m not. I’m sane.”

“You sure about that?” He looked down the long line of his nose at me, distinctly unimpressed. “Seen a lot of weird shit in my years. Stuff like you wouldn’t believe. But I got to tell you, right now, this . . . you, are taking the cake.”

“Great.” And I was so definitely probably going to jail. Someone ought to give me a cookie. My ability to take a bad situation and make it worse today was amazing.

“You touch any of my stuff?” he asked. “Take anything?”

“Yes, your sofa is cunningly hidden down the front of my dress. You won’t believe where I fit the TV.”

Again, his eyes narrowed dangerously. “Between you and me, probably not the time to be funny, babe.”

Crap. “Sorry. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that. You have every right to be mad.”

“Damn right, I do.”

I nodded, contrite. “I haven’t touched any of your things.”

The dude just stood there, staring. Lots going on behind his eyes. None of which I could read.

A stray tear trickled down my face. It must have saved itself up just for the occasion. Gah. How pathetic. I sniffled, brushing it off hurriedly with the back of my hand.

“Fuck’s sake,” he muttered.

“I really am sorry about this. The truth is, I just needed somewhere to hide for a little while. I didn’t mean to freak you out.”

He sighed. It wasn’t a happy sound. “Lydia?”

“Yes?” Despite my best efforts, my voice trembled slightly.

“Look at me.”

I did so. He still looked cranky and crazy cool while I remained a hot mess.

“I’m Vaughan,” he said.

“Hi.”

He tipped his chin and silence fell between us once more.

With the tip of his tongue rubbing at his upper lip, he looked at the wide open window, and then back at me. Yep, that’s how I’d gotten in. Houdini had nothing on my mad skills.

“What are you doing in my house, Lydia? The truth.”

“It’s kind of a long story, actually.” Along with being excruciatingly embarrassing. But then, what wasn’t about this day?

Vaughan crossed his arms over his wide chest and waited me out while I fussed with my ruined skirts and tried to come up with a way to spin the story to not make me look a complete fool. Christ, the holes in my stockings were huge. On one side, my entire foot stuck out. So screwed.

Vaughan crouched by the side of the tub, resting his arms on the side. Up close the shadows under his eyes seemed even bigger and darker against his pale skin. And there were bags big enough to use as carry-ons. Despite the strong lines of his lean face, the man looked done-in. Ready to sleep for a hundred years.

I knew that feeling.

“Looks like a wedding dress,” he said quietly.

“Yes, it is. I was going to get married today.” I took a deep breath, wiping my face with my hands. Just as expected, my palms came away smeared with black eye makeup. “Ah, boy. I must look a wreck.”

Without comment, Vaughan reached out and grabbed a towel, handing it to me. It was sort of threadbare, old. Dated like the rest of the house. I hadn’t seen more than one room, but real estate agents got a feel for these sort of things. Minimal upkeep for the past five or so years would have been my guess. Perhaps it’d even been left empty. Bushes out front hid the house from view, so I’d never gotten a good look at it before.

“Thank you.” I patted myself dry with the towel as best I could. What remained of my beautiful dress was a sopping wet ruin. “I’m sorry I broke into your house, Vaughan. I swear I don’t normally do this sort of thing.”

“No,” he said, his voice deep. “Figured as much. Where’d you come from?”

“The big house at the back.”

His brow wrinkled. “You climbed over the fence?”

“Yes.”

Tired, red-tinged eyes appraised me anew. “That’s a tall fence. Must have been one hell of an emergency.”

“It was a disaster.”

For a long moment he studied me, deep in thought. Then he sighed yet again, climbing to his feet.

“Are you going to call the cops on me?” I asked, my throat tight with tension. “I know you have every right to, I’m not disputing that. I’d just, I’d like to know. Mental preparation and all that.”

“No. I’m not.”

“Thank you. I appreciate that.” My whole body sagged in relief.

Then he clapped his hands together, startling the crap out of me. “Okay, Lydia. Here’s what we’re going to do.”

“Yes?”

“I arrived late this morning, have only had a few hours sleep. If I don’t get some coffee soon, things are going to get ugly. And you probably need to get dried off.” With no fuss, he held out his hand. “Let’s get shit sorted out. Then we can sit down and you can tell me the long story of how the hell you ended up in my house. Agreed?”

“Agreed,” I said, voice lightening.

He pulled me up. Then, with strong hands on my waist, lifted me out of the tub. Immediately water started dripping off of my saturated dress, pooling on the scuffed wooden flooring at my feet. Chris would have been distinctly unimpressed. Chris didn’t like messes. But as Vaughan didn’t seem to care, neither did I.

“You’re really not going to call the police?” I asked.

“No. Hold still,” he said, carefully plucking a fake eyelash from my cheek.

“Thank you.”

“Your dress is kind of fucked.” He looked me over from top to toe.

“I know,” I said sadly.

“I’ll leave you to get changed.”

“Wait. Please. I can’t get out of it on my own.”

More frowning.

“It’s vintage,” I explained with a grim face. “There’s no zip, just a line of little buttons up the back.”

“’Course there is.” Without another word, he turned me around and got started in on said buttons. As he worked, he hummed beneath his breath, the song vaguely familiar.

“Aren’t you still mad?” I asked, perplexed.

“Nuh.”

“But I broke into your house.”

“Window was open.”

“I still trespassed.”

Busy fingers kept working on undoing the dress. “You sat in the tub and cried because some dickhead fucked you over.”

That shut me up.

“Or that’s what I’m assuming, given the dress and all. I take it he’s the one that gave you that shiner on your cheek?”

“No. No one hit me. And yes, you assumed right about the being fucked over.” I tried to look back at him, but I couldn’t see a thing beyond my wild-ass hair. Impressive how it’d survived the shower. The stylist clearly knew her shit.

“You sure no one hit you?” He did not sound convinced.

“Yes. I lost my grip and hit the floor when I was climbing in the window. My home invasion skills need work.”

“I’d suggest you try a different career.” He finished with the buttons and took a step back, scratching his head. “You okay with the dress now?”

“Yes, thank you,” I told his reflection in the mirror. “For everything, I mean.”

“Sure.” He almost smiled and gave a small shake of the head as if he couldn’t quite believe what was going on. Or maybe it was disbelief that he wasn’t kicking me straight back out the window through whence I’d come.

Lord knows, it’d shocked the shit out of me.

He turned toward the door. “See you out there.”

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Title: UNSEEN MESSAGES

Author: Pepper Winters

Genre: Contemporary Survival Romance

Publication Date: March 30, 2016

 

Blurb

“Instincts are what keep us safe from fate. Ignoring them can change your life forever.

Fame and fortune arrived overnight and after months on the road with her singing tour, all Estelle craves is peace. Tired and ready for paradise, she travels to Fiji to recuperate.

Stubborn and surly, Galloway is avoided by most–which is exactly the way he likes it. However, he’s done spending his life in regret and hopes to find redemption in the tropical wilderness.

Together, they board the flight that changes their fate forever. Crash landing on a deserted island, they not only have to figure out how to survive with no skills and daily dangers–learning how to fish, find water, and build shelter–but also inherit two children who look to them to keep them alive.

However, staying alive might be the least of Galloway and Estelle’s problems. As days creep to months and rescue doesn’t find them, their desire for each other ignites.

They started as strangers.

They grew to be friends.

They fought the desire to be lovers.

Lust can be the most beautiful thing. Love the most rewarding. But not on an island where life hangs by a thread and giving into temptation can kill you.

Can they survive being forgotten or will love be their ultimate undoing?

From New York Times Bestseller Pepper Winters comes a timeless love story answering the question of what happens when everything is stripped away.

 

AMAZON US | iBOOKS | B&N | KOBO | GOOGLE PLAY

 

Excerpt

TOUCH.

She finally touched me.

And I let her.

Her fingers were hypnotically soft; moving over my face, across my lips, lingering on my throat.

My body instantly hardened.

I reached for her, but the touch dropped lower, across my sternum, along my lower belly, feathering on my hipbone to my thigh.

My cock stood up, begging to be granted the same treatment, but the touch vanished, tugging on something around my leg.

My teeth snapped together as the frustration I’d been fighting for months boiled over.

Lashing out, I connected with hair.

Not a faceless face or dream-figmented breasts.

Hair.

Real.

My eyes flew open.

The dream ended.

And I shot upright only to slam back down again when I noticed it wasn’t a dream. Estelle bowed over me. Her knees against my thigh, her fingers unbuckling the seat belts and fabric ties around my splint.

I sucked in a breath, whisper-hissing in the dark. “What the hell do you think you’re

doing?”

Her eyes flashed then skittered across the camp to Pip and Conner. They slept in individual beds tonight, not needing each other’s support from the lonely memories of being parentless.

She froze. “I’m doing what you want.”

“What I want?”

A Technicolor porno unraveled in my head. What I wanted was her mouth on my cock. What I wanted was her straddling my hips and me thrusting into her tight, hot heat. What I wanted was her.

A thousand times her.

I gritted my teeth; balled my hands. I did everything I could to fight the undeniable urges volcanoing in my blood.

“Estelle, I suggest you move away from me.”

I gave her a warning.

I was a gentleman.

If I touched her now, kissed her, fucked her…it would be her fault for coming too close when she knew the uncrossable boundaries between us.

“Just tolerate me for a few seconds and then I’ll be gone.” Her eyes dropped back to my thigh. Tolerate?

She thought I couldn’t tolerate her?

Shit, I was in love with her. I spent my days falling more and more into goddamn love with her, and she thought I could barely tolerate her?

Stupid, stupid woman.

About Pepper Winters

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Pepper Winters is a New York Times, Wall Street Journal, and USA Today Bestselling Author. She wears many roles. Some of them include writer, reader, sometimes wife. She loves dark, taboo stories that twist with your head. The more tortured the hero, the better, and she constantly thinks up ways to break and fix her characters. Oh, and sex… her books have sex.

She loves to travel and has an amazing, fabulous hubby who puts up with her love affair with her book boyfriends. She’s also honoured to wear the IndieReader Badge for being a Top 10 Indie Bestsellers, best BDSM series voted by the SmutClub, and recently signed a two book deal with Grand Central. Her books are currently being translated into numerous languages and will be in bookstores in the near future.

 

Author of Bestselling Titles: Monsters in the Dark, Destroyed, & Indebted Series

Purchase Monsters in the Dark: Tears of Tess | Quintessentially Q | Twisted Together

Purchase Destroyed

Purchase Indebted Series: Debt Inheritance | First Debt | Second Debt | Third Debt | Fourth Debt | Final Debt

Purchase Pure Corruption Series: Ruin & Rule | Sin & Suffer

 

In the streets of Chicago exists an uneasy, centuries-old truce between vampires and their distant cousins, a race of shifters called drecks. Vampire enforcement agency, All the King’s Men (AKM), is charged with maintaining the truce, but when volatile enforcer Micah Black loses his mate and falls into the biological agony that results from the broken bond, he tests the boundaries of the truce by seeking out Apostle, a leader in the dreck community. Micah wants Apostle to kill him, a request Apostle is more than happy to fulfill.

When ex-Army medic Samantha Garrett inadvertently disrupts the plot and saves Micah’s life, a chain reaction sets Micah’s heart on a collision course with Sam’s, but he will have to protect her from Apostle and her obsessive ex-husband, Steve, if they will have a chance at forever. Can Micah hold his emotions together to keep Sam alive?

Goodreads

I picked this book up for free on Amazon and I’m so glad I did. This is a great start to the series.  I started this and couldn’t put it down. The story line was good and the guys of All the Kings Men were great too. The world building was also done well.

Micah works for All the Kings Men (AKM) a vampire enforcement agency. He is all alpha male who did what he wanted when he wanted. The guys of AKM and Micah were always butting heads. When Micah’s mate , Jackson, walks away from him Micah hit bottom and goes off the deep end. Micah makes a deal with his enemy, a dreck which is a shape shifter, to take him down. What he didn’t count on was the ex-army medic Samantha.

Sam is on the run of from her abusive husband and is trying to deal with her demons.  She sees Micah in trouble, or what she thought was trouble, and saves him from the Drecks not realizing she put herself in danger. Micah is in aww of Sam and realized who his true mate is.

The chemistry between Micah and Sam is off the charts. Seeing Micah deal with the alpha female in Sam was enjoyable. I thought the guys of AKM were great and cannot wait to read more of them. I have to say Trace intrigued me so much and I cannot wait to read about him.

Donya Lynne is the author of the award winning All the King’s Men Series and a member of Romance Writers of America. Making her home in a wooded suburb north of Indianapolis with her husband, Donya has lived in Indiana most of her life and knew at a young age that she was destined to be a writer. She started writing poetry in grade school and won her first short story contest in fourth grade. In junior high, she began writing romantic stories for her friends, and by her sophomore year, they had dubbed her Most Likely to Become a Romance Novelist. In 2012, she made that dream come true by publishing her first two novels and two novellas. Her work has earned her two IPPYs, one gold and one silver, as well as two eLit Awards, also one gold and one silver. Donya has many more novels and novellas planned for years to come.

 

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Order Challenged by 11:59pm on April 8, 2016 and Get an EXCLUSIVE LOOK At Captivate Me the final book in the Ravage MC Series.

Click this link  http://goo.gl/forms/W2hFsn8vrX

 

 

Lust, love, and second chances.

 

Growing up in the fast-paced and rough life of a motorcycle club wasn’t easy. Cleaning up the mess his father had made of Vipers Creed meant sacrifice. Cade ‘Spook’ Baker had given up everything to bring the club life back to what it was supposed to be: a family.

 

The choices he made were not what he wanted, but they were necessary for the club as a whole.

Second chances rarely came to Spook, so when his Trixie walked boldly into his clubhouse, the decision was made. Trixie would once again be his, this time for good.

 

Trix Lamasters was raised by a master—a master con. All grown up, she made her life solid by making it about her club, Sirens. But one bad business decision brought her to her knees, forcing her to call on the one person she had sworn she would never trust again.

 

Pasts have a way of not staying there. Things that were buried deep have a way of finding themselves in the light of a new day. Could something that had once crashed and burned for Spook and Trixie find a way out of the wreckage? With the odds against them, can they find a way to overcome the challenges, or will it all blow up in their faces?

 

**Due to content, mature audiences only.**

 

 

Cover Design: Pink Ink Designs

Photographer: Eric Battershell

Model: Stefan Northfield

Trix

“You get anywhere with Cade?” Jett, my assistant asked as she plopped down in the chair in front of my desk.  She had a beauty that pulled everyone in and curves that made me insanely jealous. Her long, dark hair laid pencil straight, and her eyes were a blue that looked almost gray in different lights.

My stomach fell at her question, reminding me of last night. I couldn’t believe I fucking slept with him. Not just fucked him, but showered with him, fell asleep with him … woke up in his damn arms. Sneaky bastard.

I could still feel him between my legs. Hell, I even had phantom feelings of him inside of me. He’d had a lot of practice. I knew he had because I had heard all about it. And I wasn’t any better than one of those paid hookers.

Fucking moron. My reasons had sucked before. They meant shit now.

I wanted to pass off the night as being just another booty call, a way to fuck each other out of our systems, but both were a flat out lie. Last night was so much more than anything Taylor, or any of my other weak-ass booty calls, and I had ever been.

The rawness in his eyes captivated me. God, his eyes … I could see so much more in them last night. More than I’d ever thought I would see. But I was just fooling myself. I wouldn’t go back fifteen years to fall for the bad boy again, just to get my heart smashed all over again.

Mortification didn’t even cut it when it came to describing how I felt. Weak. Pathetic. I gave in, letting him have that power over me with his smooth talking and fantastic bed skills.  Plus, he had looked sexy as hell in his leather and jeans. To see him on a motorcycle, too, was just a recipe for disaster. And I had just spread my legs, begging for him to give it to me. Dammit.

Although I was dead serious in the note I left him this morning, it felt really odd to leave it for him in my own house. Nevertheless, I couldn’t stay and deal with the morning after shit. One look and I would have let him inside my body again. I would have let him take me over and over until I really couldn’t walk. Now that I knew how much he had grown, let alone changed in the bedroom, it would be more difficult than ever to say no to him.

I had to remember Cade crushed me. My first love left me to pick up the pieces of my torn heart. I couldn’t go back to the me from that time.

“He doesn’t know if Nanette is there.” I decided to leave out the whole him fucking my brains out bit. I wouldn’t open up that can of worms. I told Jett all about Cade one night after way too many shots of tequila. Regardless, the less people who knew about the now, the better.

 

Ryan Michele has a huge obsession with reading, which only came to life after her best friend said she had to read Twilight. After reading that series, her entire world changed in the blink of an eye. Not only was she sucked into new worlds and all of the wonderful words authors put down on paper, she felt the urge to begin to write down the characters that played inside of her head. In doing so, Safe was born. Then Wanting You and the Ravage MC series.

 

When she’s not reading or writing, she spends time taking care of her two children and her husband, enjoying the outdoors and laying in the sun.

Author Links

 

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We are very excited to announce the release date of When I’m With You by Harper Sloan. The release for the third book in the Hope Town series will be April 26.

Enjoy this sexy excerpt while you wait!

 

Nate:

It’s nearly impossible to be surrounded by love but not understand it. My parents, my sister, and just about everyone around us has no trouble accepting that love. To give your trust to someone else and believe they would die before hurting you. I’ve witnessed it—I’ve seen the power of it—but I’ve also seen the pain. Because for me, I’ve only loved someone I could never have, and my biggest fear is that by giving her my love, all I would do is ruin her. I should have tried harder, but I’m not sure I can because I only feel complete when I’m with her.

Emberlyn:

The only time I feel like I belong is when he’s near. His infectious smile warms me straight to my bones. Any insecurities I have vanish with just a wink from him. A sliver of his attention makes me feel invincible. But all it took was one drunken night of truths for me to lose everything I had begun to crave. Now, I’m not sure how to move on because I only feel complete when I’m with him.

 

He said I was too young. I said he was perfect. He said our families wouldn’t understand. I said we could weather any storm. He said he would ruin me. And he was right.

 

ADD TO GOODREADS

“I want you so bad,” I mumble through the arousal rushing and flowing over every inch of my body, tingling up every nerve and swimming around inside me in overdrive. “I’ve dreamed of this for so long,” I continue, my words coming out in a pant as I rock my hips.

“Ember,” he warns when I jerk my hips out of his unforgiving hold, giving us both the friction we’re in the need of when my wet and swollen lips slide against his erection. “Stop,” he barks in a deep rumble, his neck straining as he takes my hips again between his hands.

“Never.” I let my head roll back and start to pick up my movements, each thrust up getting the attention to my clit that has the burn in my core starting to fire up my spine, wrapping around me as it climbs through my body, gearing up to explode.

“Fuck!” he roars.

Before I realize what’s happening, he’s flipping us. My head lands in my pillows, just a breath away from the headboard in the center of my bed. It takes me a second, still clinging to the climax that had been just seconds away from taking over, and I push my hair off my face with both hands. When I look down my body, I almost retreat when I see the feral expression on the man kneeling between my spread legs.

He takes huge body rocking gulps of air, his chest heaving with their power. His hair is a loose mess hanging free to dance at his shoulders, a few pieces falling into his face that he either doesn’t notice or just doesn’t care about.

And his eyes are focused downward.

If I didn’t believe he was fighting the same all-consuming feelings as I was, I would have thought that his downcast gaze was for another reason, but seeing those brilliant emerald eyes locked on my very exposed and wet sex, I know that I’m the reason he’s being slammed with a hungered need.

The power I feel seeing his reaction to my excitement is a high I never want to live without. Something that I will wake up thinking about and fantasize every second we’re apart, trying to think of new ways to make him come alive like this. That uncontrollable, feverishly strong emotion he’s wearing can only be an aftereffect of our chemistry. Until it burns so bright that it’s exploding around us like a brilliantly beautiful display of fireworks.

And with that thought, he makes a sound low in his throat, pushing forward in the next breath to cover my body with his as his mouth takes mine in a deep, bruising kiss. His underwear still keeping him from me completely, but that doesn’t stop him from thrusting against my body as if he was already inside me. Each time he slams against me, the headboard slaps against the wall and my eyes roll back in my head.

It was foolish of me to think I would ever be able to control this man once I saw the fierceness burning in his scrutiny break free of his careful control. When I try to push my hands into his hair, he breaks our kiss with a hiss and narrows his eyes at me.

“You’re not to touch me, Ember. Not at all. I’m so worked up right now because of you. I’m about to fucking come all over myself and the only place that’s going to feel my fucking come will be the inside of your pussy. Do not test me by putting those wicked little hands on my body until I can take my time to show you what it’s really like to take while giving.”

“Please,” I rasp past my dry throat, needing that so desperately.

“No, not please. From this point on, the only word I want to hear from your lips is my name. Moan, groan, scream out your pleasure, but you say no other word than my name. I want to hear you scream that, Ember,” he stresses with a hard thrust. “You don’t come until I tell you to,” he rumbles deep in his throat. I lose his eyes as he bends to trace my ear with the tip of his tongue before whispering against it. “And when you do, you had better do it loud enough to feel pain in your throat from the pleasure I’ll give your pussy.”

“Take me,” I beg, trying to rock against him, but his weight on me restricts my movements.

“Nate,” he grunts in my ear. “No more fucking words but my name. Know who is claiming you. Let the whole fucking world hear who is taking you and making you his.”

He runs his hands up each of my arms, stretching them out until I can almost feel the edge of my mattress and his hands are curling around my fingers.

“Hold on,” he commands with a wink.

 

Harper is a NEW YORK TIMES, WALL STREET JOURNAL and USA TODAY bestselling author residing in Georgia with her husband and three daughters. She has a borderline unhealthy obsession with books, hibachi, tattoos and Game of Thrones. When she isn’t writing you can almost always find her with a book in hand.

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