Serial Killer...

There's been a lot of backlash against romance author's writing books as serials, specifically if they are short stories.  There's this belief that we're doing it for money, to bilk readers in some way.  That couldn't be further from the truth.

Here are my reasons for writing books as serials:
1) I work... a lot.  If I wrote a full length novel, instead of doing installments, I would only be posting new work on Amazon once every four to six months.  By dividing this up into serials, I can post more often and having more titles up there makes me more discoverable.
2) Discoverability is not about making money.  I don't write to earn a living.  It'd be nice if I could, but the bottom line is that I write because I love to, and knowing that people are reading my work and enjoying it is the greatest feeling in the world.
3) Pricing-- I don't price my serials the same way I price a full length novel.  My conscience (and yes I do have one) will not allow me to charge anyone $2.99 for such a short work.  I price all of my serial installments at $0.99 and take advantage of every free promo day that I can get Amazon to give me.  Unfortunately, a book has to be up at least 90 days on Amazon KDP Select before you can publish it anywhere else and have Amazon price match it to free.
4)Pricing Part B-- I price my serials at the lowest price that Amazon will allow me to have.  I can't make them any cheaper, or I would.

I say all this because a lot of people seem to take issue with the serial format, thinking that they are being jipped in some way.  Once the series is complete, I will compile them into an anthology and post that anthology for a reasonable price, typically the same price that a lot of authors take onto a single installment of their serials, so people have the option of waiting for that to be released.  I don't price my work cheaply because I don't have faith in it.  I try to price my work affordably because, again, I don't write for the love of money.  If I can use writing to keep a roof over my head and enough ramen noodles in the kitchen to survive, then I'm happy.  I don't want anyone to not read my books because my ego demanded that I charge a certain amount.

I hope this doesn't sound like a rant.  It isn't intended that way.  Just addressing some of the criticism of the shorter books and hopefully allaying some misconceptions.

The Big Fight....

Sometimes there is nothing better than putting your characters in the middle of a gigantic argument, just to see what fabulous things will fall out of their mouths....  The sex between Vincent and Ophelia isn't the only thing that gets dirty!


Excerpt:

"Are you kicking me out?” she asked.  

“I’m not kicking you out,” he replied calmly, though in fact, he was.  “I’m just mitigating the fall out of a bad decision.”  The minute the words escaped his mouth, he regretted them.  But it was too late to call them back, and if he wanted to put an insurmountable distance between them, they would do the trick.  

Ophelia’s breath seized in her lungs.  It was almost like a slap.  It wasn’t as if she’d expected a happily ever after ending.  She didn’t believe in fairy tales and she certainly knew that Vincent was no prince charming.  But she hadn’t expected to be thrown out of his bed in the middle of the night.  “Of course,” she replied, her voice slightly clipped, the words as brittle as glass.  Pushing the sheets back, she rose and retrieved what was left of her clothing.  She had no idea where her torn underwear had wound up, but she wasn’t going to embarrass herself further by digging in the dark for them.  Fastening her bra, she slipped her dress back on over her head.  The zipper was proving stubborn, but when she felt the weight of his presence behind her and the gentle brush of his hands on her back as he tried to assist her, fury washed through her.  

“I don’t need your help!” she snapped, and then quickly moved away.  It wasn’t simply that it hurt.  She was humiliated.  

“I’m sorry,” he said.  

“Sorry for what?” she asked.  “Sorry for breaking your damned rules or sorry for tossing me out of your bed in the middle of the night like some drunken mistake?”

He stared at her for a long moment.  “I’m sorry that it can’t be what you want.”

The shoe she’d picked up flew from her hand, sailing in his direction.  “Don’t you dare put that on me!  I never asked a thing from you!  I never made assumptions about what would or wouldn’t be between us... The only one doing that is you!”

“What the hell is wrong with you?” he demanded, picking up one shoe while dodging the other.

“You are so full of yourself, Vincent!  What makes you so damned sure that I wanted more than what you’ve already given me?”

He didn’t have a suitable answer for that.  It was a safe bet that anything he said would be wrong at that point.  “Let me get my keys and I’ll drive you home.”

“I’ll take a cab!”

“No, you won’t.  It’s dangerous.”

She whirled on him then.  “Right now I’m dangerous... You don’t get to treat me like a whore and then play the gentleman in the same breath.  I’ll take the goddamned taxi!”

Vincent placed the shoes on the bed and, with a sigh, walked out of the room.  He had wounded her pride and she had always had that in abundance.  But it would keep things from going any further.  If she hated him, there would be no more temptation to resist.  It would be easier for both of them that way, he reasoned.  No false hopes.  No disappointments down the road. It was safer for her that way.  He paused in the foyer, listening to the click of her heels on the stairs as she stormed down.  

“Let me drive you home,” he said.  “It will take forever to get a taxi here at this time of night.”

“I’ve already called one and it’s on the way... You’ve done quite enough already, thank you,” she said.  Some of the heat had left her voice and she sounded somewhat reasonable.  

“I don’t want to hurt you, Ophelia, but a relationship isn’t something I can even consider right now.”

“Please spare me the ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ routine.  I know it’s you, Vincent.  It’s glaringly apparent right now that it’s you... If you want to be a coward, fine.  Be one.  Just don’t expect me not to call you on it... I’ll wait out front for the taxi. I could use the air.”

CONTEST!!!!!

So, I've been slaving away on a new manuscript.  It's hot, but a little bit of a departure for me.  It's a contemporary erotic romance.  No suspense.  No paranormal elements.  But we do have a very tortured hero with a host of ugly secrets haunting him.  So, I'm giving you all a sneak peek... a hot and steamy excerpt.  And here's the fun part, for everyone who visits the blog and comments, tell them to leave the name of the person who turned them onto the blog and whoever sends the most viewers will get a $15 Amazon gift card!

Feel free to leave any comments about Vincent and Ophelia.... and here's a little taste of one of the photos that will be incorporated into the cover.


EXCERPT:  

VINCENT paused in the doorway, his tie dangling from his fingertips.  He hadn’t heard the music until he opened the door, and he hadn’t realized that Ophelia was in the house.  Kaitlyn had told him she was moving her belongings in that day, but he hadn’t seen Ophelia’s car.  Of course, he’d parked on the street rather than in the driveway to avoid having to move the car for the florist and caterer the next day.  He was cursing himself for it.  Had he realized that she was there, he never would have opened the bathroom door without knocking.  And the vision before him would not be permanently seared into his brain.  

It seemed as if every drop of blood in his body had rushed directly to his cock.  He was so painfully hard that his clothing had become a torture device.  Still, he didn’t move.  If he made a sound, she would know he was there and she would stop.  Watching one of her slender hands moving delicately over the lush globes of her breasts, tugging gently at one nipple before sliding over soap slicked skin to offer that same enticing treatment to the other, he was enrapt.  That her other hand had disappeared beneath the surface of the water had not escaped him.  Knowing that she was touching herself so intimately was wrecking the last shred of control he possessed.  Watching the flush as it crept over her breasts and pinkened her cheeks, he wanted to badly to touch her.  Her lips parted on a soft moan and his entire body seized.  

Even as he looked on, she kept her eyes closed tightly and her movements became more frantic.  The soft moans grew louder and her breathing grew more rapid.  When she arched her back, her breasts lifting entirely out of the sudsy water, it was all he could not to rush over there and simply take what she unknowingly offered  

“Vincent,” she murmured.  

He thought at first that he’d been found out, but her eyes remained firmly closed.  Which left only one possible conclusion.  Whatever fantasy was inspiring her to bring herself to release, he was a part of it.  The very thought effected him in ways he’d never imagined.  The possessiveness that consumed him in that moment didn’t frighten him.  Ophelia was his, and that was all that mattered to him.  Dropping his tie to the floor, he unbuttoned his shirt while toeing off his shoes at the same time.  In stocking feet and the pants that felt like a vice over his swollen member, he moved toward the tub and the temptress who awaited him there.  

He was only a few feet from the tub when she cried out, her body shuddering with her climax.  Her eyes fluttered open and met his gaze.  A dozen emotions crossed her face in that split second, shock, horror, embarrassment, anger, but the last was lust.  Her gaze had settled on his bare chest before wandering down to the unmistakable bulge in his pants.  

“You shouldn’t be in here!” she finally managed, hunkering down in the tub to shield her breasts from his view.  

“You’re one to talk about things a person shouldn’t be doing,” he said mildly.  “What a naughty girl you are, Ophelia.”

“Get out!”

“I don’t think so... Ten seconds ago, I might have left if you told me to.  But that was before I heard you whispering my name... I like knowing that I’m the man you think of when you make yourself cum.”

Ophelia blushed hotly, “Please, just leave.”

Vincent settled himself on the edge of the tub, one arm bracketing her wet, naked body as he leaned over her.  “Oh, no.  Not now.  Do you what that did to me?  It was bad enough to walk in and realize that you were naked... that divine body shielded by nothing but water.  But then I saw what you were doing, and it was the most beautiful, erotic think I’ve ever witnessed.”

“I can’t help wanting you... But that doesn’t mean were going to act on it.  I can’t be with you that way and keep my emotions out of it.  And my emotions are the one thing you can’t be trusted with.” she said.  

“We’ve got one year,” he said.  “One year to figure it all out... I want you too.  I’ve wanted you for so long that if Thomas or Ruby had known what dirty thoughts I was having about you they would have whipped me down to the river and back.  But we’re both grown ups now, and tomorrow you’re going to be my wife.”

“It isn’t a real marriage,” she protested.  

Leaning down, he kissed her shoulder, his tongue burning a path to her collar bone and then the hollows her throat.  Her head fell back against the back of the tub and he scraped his teeth over her the skin of her neck.  “It can be.  Just let me please you,” he urged, sliding his hand beneath the surface of the water to cup the softness of her breast.  Her pebbled nipple pressed impudently against his palm.  He knew she was weakening.  The shuddering breath that escaped her fanned against his cheek and he knew that if he pressed his hand above her heart, he would feel it pounding.  

Ophelia wanted to say no.  The logical, rational part of her was demanding that she push him away, but there was another part of her that urged her to let him continue.  It was so tempting to lose herself in the heat and the pleasure that he offered.  Closing her eyes, she savored the touch of his callused fingers on her breasts, the sting as his teeth scraped against delicate flesh, and delicious warmth when that abraded flesh was soothed by his lips and tongue.   Her memories hadn’t done the sensations justice, and even though she’d just climaxed, she knew that it would take very little effort for him to bring her to that precipice again--and it would be even more enthralling, more rapturous with him.  When his hand moved from her breast, she groaned in disappointment, but then his hand was moving lower, sinking further beneath the water and delving between her parted thighs.   As he caressed the plump folds of her sex, one finger skating delicately along her slit, she couldn’t stop the breathless moan that escaped her.  “Please.”

“Tell me you want this,” he commanded.  

“I do!  I shouldn’t, but God help me, I do,” she said on a broken sob, as his finger slipped between the folds to caress the hardened to bud of her clit.  Still sensitive from her own earlier explorations, her response was immediate and intense.  Her entire body tensed, straining towards him.  

“So beautiful,” he whispered against her ear.  “Wild and abandoned.”  Ophelia gasped his name, her fingers grasping at the sides of the tub, desperate for something to hold onto, as aroused by the harshly whispered words as by his touch.    

“I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you, of how it felt to be inside you... so soft, so hot and wet for me.”

She felt like she was drowning with need, as if it were pulling her under.  Nothing else seemed to matter in that moment except the tension coiling inside her and the pleasure that she knew was waiting on the other side.  Still, she found the strength to speak.  “I’ve thought about it too... Even when I knew I shouldn’t.”

“Don’t fight it, Ophelia. Don’t fight me.  Let’s just take what we can,” he urged. 

“Yes,” she said, her agreement a whispered plea for more.  

Vincent grasped her arms and hauled her up out of the tub, her body plastered to his.  The press of her breasts against his chest, the slide of his hands over her wet skin stoked the flame burning inside him.  There was no finesse, no gentle seduction.  He maneuvered her so that she straddled his hips, his cock cradled between her parted thighs.  The heat of her was scorching even through the last layer of cloth between them.  He ground his cock against her even as she fumbled with the fly of his pants.  The fabric finally parted beneath her hands, providing instant relief that faded in the wake of a new torment as she closed her hand around his aching cock.  Unable to resist the temptation of her lush lips, he captured them in a searing kiss.  Sliding his tongue over the lush curve of her bottom lip, he nipped it gently with his teeth.  Her lips parted on a moan, and he took advantage, deepening the kiss, sliding his tongue into the sweet recesses of her mouth.  It was a familiar dance, the thrust and parry of their tongues, mimicking the act that would follow.  

The knock at the door startled them both.

Excerpt from The Boss' Secret

Hey everyone!  I decided a couple of weeks ago that I wasn't quite finished with Grace and Anthony.  Their story had been hanging around, bugging the crap out of me, and insisting that I let it run its course.  So here's a glimpse at the second installment in the series (Callahan's Secretary).  Hope you enjoy this super steamy snippet.  It's available at Amazon for only $0.99 or free if you have Amazon Prime.  

“I have a business to run, Beatty.  There’s no time for chit chat.  Can I see you in my office, Ms. Marcum?”

“Certainly, Mr. Callahan,” Grace replied evenly.  “Excuse me, Mr. Beatty.”

Leaving the other man mumbling to himself as he exited the office, Grace followed Anthony into his office.  Outwardly, she appeared calm, but inside she was fuming.  She could not believe how he was behaving.  Closing the door behind her, she whirled on him immediately, only to be greeted by his face mere inches from hers.  Before she could even utter a protest, his lips were on hers, forcefully, as he pressed her against the door.  His hands tugged at her hair, tilting her head back to ravage her mouth.  She was gasping for breath, fighting to hold onto her anger in the midst of the sensual onslaught.  It was impossible.  Even though the kiss was punishing, a reflection of his temper more than his lust, she was helpless in the face of it.  Eagerly, she kissed him back, lifting one leg to wrap around his waist.  

Grace moved her hips against him, feeling the hard ridge of his cock against her.  After the first time, they had decided it was too risky to engage in that type of behavior in the office, especially during office hours.  But at that moment, Grace could think of nothing but having him inside her, feeling his hot, hard length sliding into her.  When he put his hands beneath her hips, lifting her and pinning her to the door, so that his erection pressed against the bare mound of her sex, she moaned against his mouth and clasped her hands around his neck.  

The kiss broke finally, his lips dragging away from hers, only to settle into the hollow of her neck.  His teeth scraped against that sensitive skin and she shivered.  “Anthony, I need you!”

“Not Beatty?”

She smiled at him, “No one but you.  Please!”  When she felt his fingers sliding over the damp lips of pussy, gently stroking the cleft, she closed her eyes on a groan.  “Yes!”

“It drives me insane,” he said, his voice a hot whisper against her neck.  “I can’t stand seeing other men look at you.  I hate not being able to tell the world you’re mine!”

“I know... But what would people say?  I’m your secretary!  It’s every bad cliche in the book!” she protested.  It was hard to think of all her very good reasons while he was doing such delicious things with his mouth and his hands.

“It’s bullshit, Grace.  Nobody’s opinion matters but ours.”

“I don’t want to fight,” she said, stroking his face gently, trailing her fingers along the roughened skin of his jaw. 

“Then what do you want?” he asked.  

Reaching between them, she deftly loosened his belt and then unfastened his pants.  “I want you.”

Anthony was lost.  He wanted to demand that she drop the secrecy, he wanted to push her on why she felt it was such a terrible idea.  But with the wet heat of her welcoming sex pressed against him, framed by the midnight silk of the garter belt and stockings he’d bought for her, it was too much temptation.  He pressed his cock against the damp cleft of her pussy, moving against her until those soft lips parted and her heat surrounded him.  He groaned deeply, savoring the silken glide of his cock between the honeyed walls of her sex.  There was nothing else that compared to that feeling.  It was perfection.  

“Tell me you’re mine,” he demanded.  

“I’m yours, Anthony... only yours,” she said, her voice little more than a breathless moan.  

He thrust into her again, driving so deeply that it was impossible to tell where her body ended and his began.  The inner muscles of her sex clenched around him, increasing the delicious friction with every advance and retreat of his cock.  No woman had ever gotten to him the way Grace had.  The unrequited lust from before he’d found her naughty little journal was nothing in comparison to the insatiable need that he felt for her after having her.  “Fuck, Grace!  You drive me crazy.”

She smiled at him then, and then she began to whisper, her breath hot against his ear, and the most deliciously wicked things falling from her beautifully shaped lips.    “You feel so good inside me.  Your thick cock filling me up... Feel how wet I am for you, how much I want you!” He knew she was only doing it to drive him crazy, and it worked.

Reaching between their joined bodies, Anthony touched the swollen bud of her clit, trapping it between two fingers.  With every thrust, the pressure on that sensitive bundle increased, and she was soon gasping for breath, unable to do anything more than moan incoherently.  He felt the first flutters of her orgasm, the walls of her sex clenching rhythmically around him.  Gritting his teeth, he fought the urge to simply lose himself in her.  When the last of the contractions receded, he withdrew from her, instantly regretting the loss of her warmth.  

“You didn’t... Why did you stop?” she asked.  

“I need your mouth, Grace,” he whispered.  “I want to see your beautiful lips closing around my cock.”

What Keeps a Naughty Girl Busy....

Hey guys!  I have been a naughty, naughty blogger.  Haven't posted in a while, but I have been writing up a storm.  In the last few months, I've managed to finish the sequel to my first foray into erotica, Dragon's Lair.

Dragon's Lair 2:  The Summoning is available on Amazon,  at www.cobblestone-press.com, www.barnesandnoble.com and www.allromance.com.    Here is a sneak peak of the cover art!


Check it out and see what Remy, Lilly and Philippe have been up to!

That isn't all I have been up to!

I also just self published a new novella on Amazon KDP, Snow Bound Enemies.  You can check out the cover art by the fabulous Leanore Elliott and an excerpt below!   

“You’re trying my patience, Kayleigh.  I don’t know how long we’re going to be stuck here together and you getting sick isn’t an option.  Now, strip and get into that tub, or I’ll put you in it clothes and all!”

Angry, not just at him and his orders, but at the situation itself and at the mess that had brought her there, Kayleigh yelled back at him.  “Fine!  You want me to strip then I’ll strip.”  With a hard yank she pulled her jacket open, sending buttons flying everywhere.  The silk blouse beneath it came next, again the buttons skittering across the tiled floor.  She shrugged out of both garments, letting them fall to the floor.  She couldn’t rip the skirt, she knew, but she unzipped it and let it drop to the ground until she stood there in only her bra and panties and the garter belt and stockings that she preferred.  Pantyhose had always been a misery to her, and the ultra feminine stockings and garters made her feel sexy and beautiful, no matter how sedate her outward appearance was.  

Breathing hard from anger, her face flushed and her lashes still damp with tears, she glared at him.  “Happy now?”  She was unprepared for his response.  He shoved her against the wall, his body pressing against hers intimately.  His mouth was on hers instantly--hard, unyielding, claiming, but oh so skillful.  It wasn’t a kiss so much as a vanquishing.  Her hands were above her head, pinned there by one of his larger hands.  His other hand cupped her chin, tilting her head up, giving him greater access to her mouth.  The kiss deepened even further.  His tongue swept between her lips, gliding sensuously over hers.  

Every subtle movement, every slight shift of his mouth over hers was both delight and torment.  It took her back to Steven and Dawn’s wedding, and that kiss under the mistletoe.  That had been the first moment in her life where she’d truly felt passion.  Prior to that, kissing and even sex, had been just something she could take or leave.  It was nice when it happened, but it wasn’t a focus in her life.  Then Patrick Murphy had settled his lips over hers in a ballroom crowded with friends and family and had literally set her world on fire.  Now he was doing it again, in the darkened bathroom of his home, while she was helpless and practically naked in his arms, her temper once again leading her down an unexpected path.  

Kayleigh fought back the whimper of protest when his lips finally broke from hers.  He stepped back and it was all she could do not to arch into him, into the strength and heat that his body offered.  She knew that he wasn’t unaffected.  She’d felt the delicious bulge of his impressive erection against her.  His ragged breathing and heated gaze only further proved the point.  

“Get in the tub.  Get warmed up and changed.  You have fifteen minutes,” he said and stormed out.  

Kayleigh watched him go, and after a moment, shook herself out of the lust and anger fueled stupor to do as he said.  

In addition to all this writing, I managed to finish graduate school (go me!!!), bake about fifteen billion holiday cookies and make more candy than I ever want to contemplate again!  Check out the new work and tell me what you think.  I love hearing from you guys!

Seraphina

Excerpt from WIP----ADULT CONTENT!

Okay this is a scene from my upcoming release, as yet untitled.  This scene is intended for MATURE AUDIENCES ONLY....  Very Mature!

Cass arranged herself on the bed, lying on her side with her head propped on her elbow.  The pose accentuated the deep curve at her waist and the flare of her hips.  She didn’t pull the covers up in spite of the chill of the air conditioned room.  He had wanted her naked and she intended to give him precisely what he asked for.  It was only a few minutes after that she heard the door open downstairs.  Her breath hitched in her lungs.  The sound of his footfalls on the stairs echoed the pounding of her heart.  When he stopped in the open doorway, his suit jacket had been discarded and his shirt sleeves rolled back, exposing tanned forearms lightly dusted with crisp, dark hair.  The tie he’d worn earlier, the one that he had used to bind her wrists and to torment her most sensitive flesh, was dangling from his fingertips in blatant challenge.  

He raised an eyebrow at her.  “I didn’t expect you to be obedient.”

“I can be with the right incentive,” she replied cheekily.  

“So if I want you to do what I say, I only need to promise to fuck you senseless?”  The question was posed as he strolled to the bed with a seemingly casual grace.  But Cass knew the power in his body, the strength that he held.  There was nothing casual about him.  The affable boy scout persona that he had adopted for the rest of the world had been peeled away just for her.  Reed was secretly dark and dangerous.  

Cass shivered with anticipation.  “Yes.”

“Get on your knees and face the headboard,” he said, his voice roughened with desire.  

Cass did as he said, tilting her hips back so that her bottom was high in the air.  The soft hum of approval from him was all the reward she needed in that moment.  She didn’t protest when he once again slid the silk tie around her wrist and fed the other end of the fabric through a discreet slot in the headboard.  When her hands were securely bound, he grasped her hips and dragged her down the bed, until her face and breasts were pressed to the mattress and her arms were outstretched in front of her.  

“You have no idea how beautiful you look,” he said.  “I’ve dreamed of having you here in this bed, bound exactly this way... your body offered up to me to take any way I see fit.”

The words were little more than a whisper but they lit a fire in her.  Her clit pulsed as if he’d touched her.  Her nipples hardened where they pressed into the bed.  “Please, Reed!  I need to feel you inside me!”

The hard swat on her ass prompted a startled cry.  Another stinging blow was landed to the other cheek.  “Spread your legs for me,” he demanded.  

Cass shifted her knees further apart on the bed.  But Reed still didn’t bury his cock inside her.  Instead, his hand drifted over her dew slicked mound, touching the plump, pink folds reverently until he encountered the hardened bud of her clit.  A few gentle strokes of his fingers and the little nub was even more swollen.  Cass gasped when he closed his finger and thumb tightly over her clit.  It wasn’t painful, but the sensation was so intense, so unlike anything she’d ever experienced before she began to shudder in response instantly.  Immediately her sheath began to contract, rhythmic spasms as her clit fluttered and pulsed helplessly, trapped in his unrelenting grip.  He didn’t let go for the longest time, not until he’d rung every drop of pleasure from her.  Her body ached in the aftermath.  Her clit throbbed mercilessly and the walls of her pussy felt swollen and sensitive.  

The bed dipped behind her and she felt Reed’s thighs against her own.  He gripped her hips and pulled her back so that she straddled his thighs, his erection pressing against her hot core.  She ached to have him inside her.  “Please, I need you.”

Reed smiled as he heard the desperate edge to her voice.  “I’ve given you orgasms... over and over today.  Isn’t that enough?”

“No,” she said.  “I want to feel you inside me.”

Grasping his cock, Reed guided it to her entrance.  With a small nudge, he slid the head of his cock into her tight sheath.  The heat of her body was scalding, the tight clench of her flesh on his was bliss.  She moaned in response as he pushed forward, sinking deeply into her welcoming heat.  Her cunt gripped him like a fist, the muscles clenching rhythmically around him.  He had to grit his teeth to keep from coming right there.  

“You’re so fucking tight,” he said, withdrawing slightly only to sink in again, slow and deep.  He pressed his hips forward, rocking into her, until she couldn’t take anymore.  His balls were pressed against her slit, rubbing against her clit with each thrust.  

“Fuck me harder,” she said.  

Reed gripped her hips, his fingers digging into the flesh.  There would be marks later.  He relished the thought of it, of looking at her body and seeing the evidence of his claim.  Rising up over her, he pressed her arms deeper into the mattress, angling her bottom up toward him.  He moved again, withdrawing from her, and then slammed his cock into her.  Over and over again, he withdrew only to pound his hard flesh into her yielding channel.  Her body gripped him, clutching at his shaft, caressing him with each stroke of his cock into her.  His balls slapped against the swollen lips of her cunt as he pounded into her.  He listened to her soft cries as they grew louder and more insistent.  Cass trembled against him, her thighs shaking as she accepted each brutal thrust.  He was so close.  His balls drew tight and he could feel the familiar tension building at the base of his spine.  

“Come for me, Cass,” he demanded, driving so deeply inside her that he literally saw stars.  

Cass screamed his name as the sweet tension broke through her.  Her pussy fluttered, quivering around his hard cock as wave after wave of pleasure crashed inside her.  The release was so intense she sobbed, tears blurring her vision.  Still pinned beneath him, his weight pressing her arms into the mattress, impaled on his cock, she was helpless to do anything but ride that wave of pleasure to its end.  She felt his hips jerk against her, once twice, and then the heat of his cum scorched her as spurt after spurt jetted deep inside her.  Every twitch, every hot spurt inside her triggered an answering pulse in her sensitive flesh.  

Cass felt him sag against her, his breath coming raggedly and his heart pounding at her back  Their bodies were both slick with sweat.  She felt him withdraw from her and roll to his side.  She was so tender, so sensitive after all that they had done that she was both relieved and bereft at the same time.  A sigh of relief escaped her as he reached over and began to untie the loops at her wrist.  When she was free, she rolled onto her back.  Her body felt achy and used, but she’d never been so sated in her life.  It had been amazing before, but now that she knew what Reed had been holding back, she understood exactly how much restraint he had shown the first few times they had been together.  A shiver washed over her as she thought about what other things she had yet to discover about him. 

Hybrid's Love --Excerpt

Chapter One

Wren Marlowe placed the basket of freshly rolled silverware onto the shelf by the door directly below the vinyl coated menus she had wiped down.  A total of five customers had wandered into the old truck stop that night, leaving her with a whopping fourteen dollars in her pocket in tips.  At least the small trailer that she lived in behind the diner was rent free.  Grimly, she took the bottle of spray cleaner and a towel and began to clean the ancient vinyl booths, cracks and all.  She couldn’t explain the restlessness that plagued her, but it was there nonetheless.  There was an impending sense of doom, but she knew better than to speak of it.  She had learned the hard way to keep her thoughts, her predictions, to herself.    

As Wren cleaned the booths along the front wall of the diner, she could look out onto the parking lot through the grimy windows.  He appeared out of nowhere.  One minute there was nothing but an empty parking lot and a deserted stretch of highway.  The next, he was striding across the pavement, his long limbs eating up the distance.  His stride was confident, purposeful, and aggressive.  Predatory, she thought.  In spite of that, she found herself watching him, appreciating the powerful play of muscles beneath his clothes.  Her breath hitched in her chest and her heart raced, blood rushing through her veins.  

As he approached, the blinking neon sign that announced their 24 hour service cast harsh shadows over his face.  It was both beautiful and frightening.  Hard, chiseled features and slashing dark brows were offset by lips that curved sensually.  Images assailed her, flitting through her mind, both shocking and erotic.  She could see them clearly, his body covering hers, her thighs parting to welcome him.  She could almost feel the weight of him on top of her, the exquisite fullness of his cock moving inside her.  Other images came, a flood of them, mirroring the rush of warmth, of liquid heat that now flooded her thighs.  Her knees quaked, and her breathing was ragged.  

When he entered the room, he filled the space.  His presence was overwhelming, powerful and frightening.  She noted that his hair was damp, though it had not begun to rain yet.  They were miles from anywhere, and there were no vehicles nearby.  She felt it then, a deep certainty that blossomed within her.  He was not what he appeared.  Instantly and with little provocation, she was intensely afraid of him.  She was also terrified of her response to him, of the spark of lust that had erupted into wildfire within her.  No man had ever affected her so, and he had done so without even touching her.  Instinctively, she backed away.  

“Wren Marlowe,” he said in a deep, slightly gruff voice, “You must come with me.”  His voice caressed her skin, warm and rough, it raised goose bumps on her flesh.  Her nipples puckered, hardening inside the padded cups of her bra.  Desperate to hold onto some semblance of good sense, she seized the most disturbing piece of information from his short greeting.  He knew her name.  

“No,” she replied, “I mustn’t.”  He might be beautiful and his body might make her mouth water, but she didn’t know him from Adam.  She wasn’t going anywhere with him.  

The sensual line of his lips firmed and he stepped toward her.  His movements were slow and deliberate, much like someone approaching a strange and frightened animal.  Without any real weapon and his large body blocking her only escape route, Wren dropped the dirty towel to the floor, and hurled the bottle of spray cleaner still clutched in her hand.  She aimed it directly for his head.  He ducked to the side, and it glanced off his shoulder.  It slowed him down not at all and he continued moving toward her, his face a grim mask of determination.  

Wren braced herself, clenching her fists tightly at her sides.  She didn’t know what his intentions were, but she wasn’t going to give in without a fight.  He reached for her, and she lashed out, knocking his hand away.  She lunged to the right, squeezing past him.  He spun quickly, grabbing her from behind.  His powerful arms closed around her upper body, pinioning her arms to her sides.  The lush curves of her behind rested in the cradle of his hips, and she could feel the hard ridge of his aroused cock.  She fought the urge to press back against him, to feel his hardness sliding against her flesh.  Her body might be out of her control, she thought, but her mind wasn’t.  She renewed her struggles, but in the steely band of his arms, they were futile.  

 In spite of the strength of his hold, he wasn’t hurting her.  Even in her fear, she acknowledged that.  Against her ear, he said, “I will not harm you, Wren Marlow, but you must come with me now.”

Wren didn’t respond.  Her eyes were drawn to the door of the café which had just opened.  Three men walked inside, their hands covered in leather gloves and the dark hoods of their sweatshirts pulled up, casting dark shadows over their faces.  Dread filled her, spreading icy tentacles through her body.  The man in the center reached up, pushing back his hood, and what he revealed elicited a scream of pure terror from her.   She knew those faces.  They had haunted her dreams for her entire life.  

Rather than flesh, he was covered in scales, ranging in shades of gray and black.  The structure of his face was vaguely feline, with a wide forehead, narrow chin, and broad, high cheekbones.  His eyes were red, with elongated black pupils, shielded by nictitating lenses.  Those strange eyes slashed sharply upwards at the end, giving the appearance that his face was twisted in a macabre grin.  He opened his small mouth, emitting a wet hiss and revealing double rows of sharp, jagged teeth.   

“She is ours, Kyr,” he rasped.  

The man holding her didn’t respond.  He simply clasped her tighter against him, and pressed his thumb against an intricate emblem on the leather cuff at his wrist.  Blackness swirled about them, and the world simply fell away.  Wren felt as if she were spiraling into nothingness.  She tried to scream, but no sound emerged from her throat as she was sucked into the void.