Wednesday, November 30, 2016


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Excerpt
You realize we’ve never been on a date?”  He smirks at me, and my stomach flutters. Riddick is right, we haven’t. We couldn’t go out in public when we were younger since we were forbidden. And now we can; we can do anything we want. Go anywhere. Simply just be. It’s as if time has frozen for one split second. A conversation similar to this one pops into my mind. He said the same thing to me once. How he wished we could go out, be seen. Tell the entire town that in spite of the rumors of his father killing my parents, we were two teenagers in love; and if we could overcome it, then they as adults should as well. We were never given that chance.
“Oh. Does this mean you’re asking me out? I mean, I’ve already proven I’ll give you whatever you want, so dating is irrelevant at this point, don’t you think?” He groans, lifts me up and over him. His hardness is pressing into my stomach. I lay my hands on his chest, my eyes fluttering to render my innocence.
“Temptation got you fucked last night. Don’t tempt me, my naughty little angel. I’ll fuck you until the only choice you have to get out of this bed is to crawl. So, yes, I’m asking you out. Just me and you.”
“Okay. Where will we be going?” I agree. My insides are dancing and jiggling about as I watch him reach up and stretch his arms above his head before bringing them down to grab my ass. I sigh. I fizzle, and I may internally blow up with the detonator button being my clit.
“You’ll see,” he utters. Voice stating it’s a secret. Whatever. I’ll go wherever he wants me to go as long as we’re together.
“Tell me about these?” I coax those words out with ease as I outline the spider web tattoo around one of his nipples. He laughs. I scowl.
“I’m serious. Do any of them have a special meaning?” I ask seriously this time. “I bet I could get off just by standing in the shower watching you wash these.” I trot on seductively.
“Same goes for me with watching you arch your back, your mouth-watering tits with those pink nipples begging me to suck them as you wash your hair.” He lifts his hand, tugs my hair out of the confines of the band, and pulls so that my neck is exposed.

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From USA Today Best-Selling Author
comes the first book in a series of standalones in The Saint Series.

Riddick by Kathy Coopmans releases on December 5th.

Add to your TBR: http://bit.ly/2fuoYsi
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Blurb
She told me Heaven would knock on my door one day.
That I would be swept away from the hell I lived in.
She was right about one thing and so wrong about the other.
Heaven came in the form of an angel just like she said.
Beautiful.
Perfect.
An angel.
And then.
My life became hell.
She disappeared. Vanished.
I left. Went to war. Killed. All for her.
Every face was the man who took her.
Every dream filled with her.
For twelve years I existed in hell. Breathed in the fires from down below.
Until her, the woman on the beach outside of my home.
Captivating.
Enchanting.
Mesmerizing.
It couldn't be my Cora, my angel, my heaven on earth.
She was dead.
Wasn't she?
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About the Author:
Kathy Coopmans
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Amazon Best Selling Author Kathy Coopmans, lives in Michigan with her husband Tony where they have two grown sons.
After raising her children she decided to publish her first book and retiring from being a hairstylist.
She now writes full time.
She's a huge sports fan with her favorite being Football and Tennis.
She's a giver and will do anything she can to help another person succeed!

Stalk Her: Facebook | Twitter | Website |  Goodreads | Newsletter signup







THANK YOU!
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Tuesday, November 29, 2016

perfectly-paired-available-now     perfectlypaired_highresA table for two Waitress Tiffany Hayes knows what she wants and she wants Sebastian. Top’s grumpy sommelier calls to her in a way no man has before. She simply needs to show him that they belong together. Finding an opportunity to spend some quality time with him turns out to be the easy part. Convincing Sebastian to look beyond his damaged heart and soul is far more difficult. A thirst he can’t deny After losing everything he held dear, Sebastian Lowe has finally rebuilt his life and the walls around his heart. Tiffany is a sweet temptation he struggles to resist. She’s bright and complex, but he’s sure she can’t handle his dark desires. When they’re thrown together on an assignment, he can’t help himself. A perfect pairing   As passion builds, the new lovers are both forced to face their pasts. To have a future, they must find a way to heal the wounds they thought would haunt them forever. * * * *  

Amazon | iTunes | Barnes & Noble 

 
Excerpt:
 
  Damn but she was a beautiful woman. She was also something he needed to keep his hands off of. No matter what Big Tag said, he did not date women he worked with. He didn’t really date anyone. He played with subs. When the need got too great, he found a partner for a brief time. He didn’t sleep with anyone. He fucked, and that was starting to get very old. Empty. “So you said something about house rules?” Tiffany leaned forward, her elbows on the bar. “Are these housekeeping rules or like big bad Dom rules?” “I don’t suppose I differentiate.” He couldn’t let those big eyes of hers soften him up. It had almost happened at her apartment. When she’d stood up after he’d spanked her and there had been tears running down her face, his impulse had been to reach for her. He’d wanted to draw her in the way he had that night when she was drunk and she’d cried on his shoulder. He’d wanted to smooth back her hair and promise her everything was going to be all right, that he could fix things for her. It was a path that was sure to lead to discomfort for her and humiliation for him. “I prefer a clean living space. I don’t like for things to be messy. I expect that you will keep your things in their proper place.” Because no matter how hard he tried, he could still trip. The legs he now walked on were only a year old. He’d spent the first two years in a wheelchair. The Garden’s Wheelchair Dom. He still wasn’t completely comfortable in the prosthetics. “I can try,” she said with a frown. “I’ll be honest, I’m not the world’s biggest neat freak.” He’d been able to tell that from the state of her apartment. It had been cluttered, a bit dusty. With the exception of her easel. That had been perfectly taken care of. He rather wished he’d taken the time to ask to see her art. He’d seen one painting that night he’d taken her home. It had been a painting of three laughing girls, the swirling colors so vibrant he could hear them giggling as they splashed in a puddle on a rainy day. The figures had been more impressions than photographic reality, but he’d known what she was trying to convey. “If you cook I’ll clean, and the other way around.” He’d started a list in his head on the long drive. The drive that would have been considerably shorter had they left at the proper time. As she’d sung along to sugary pop songs after she’d changed his radio, he’d sat and considered how to proceed. With caution. Lots and lots of caution. “I’m not the best cook in the world,” he continued, “but I can manage. Most nights, of course, we’ll be eating at Top as our training sessions for the new restaurant will last long hours, but I would prefer to eat breakfast here rather than skipping the meal or picking up fast food. Eric made sure the fridge was stocked with a few items I requested.” “Breakfast.” She gave him a little salute with her free hand. “I can manage that.” “In addition to our duties at Top, we will now be taking on the additional task of appearing to be a long-term D/s couple, and we need to talk about what that should look like.” Another thing he’d been thinking about ever since that moment the trap had closed around him. “You know you probably could have gotten us out of this assignment. It’s much more difficult for the Dom to say no. The sub always holds the power. Is there a reason you didn’t use yours today?” “I didn’t want to,” she replied simply. “I don’t have a full-time Dom and I thought it would be interesting to see what that’s like.” Was she thinking at all? “You know nothing about how I function as a dominant partner.” “And now I do,” she replied. “You like rules and schedules and you tend to be very fair.” “I can be quite exacting in my standards.” “I can be quite flexible,” she shot back as the sexiest smile crossed her face. “I’m serious about that. I can still do the splits and everything.” “You’re far too reckless, Tiffany.” He didn’t appreciate recklessness so why was she like a siren calling to him? If he listened, he would end up wrecked. “You’re far too uptight, Sebastian.”    
NY Times and USA Today bestselling author Lexi Blake lives in North Texas with her husband, three kids, and the laziest rescue dog int eh world. She began writing at a young age, concentrating on plays and journalism. It wasn’t until she started writing romance and urban fantasy that she found the stories of her heart. She likes to find humor in the strangest places and believes in happy endings no matter how odd the couple, threesome, or foursome may seem.

FACEBOOK / TWITTER / WEBSITE / AMAZON AUTHOR PAGE


Blog Tour: 

Man's Ruin 

(Original Sin Book 1) 

by

Nicola R. White 

Nov 24th - Nov 29th

 



Magdalene is a mob-connected madam. Tommy Flynn is the hitman who loves her. And when they're framed for the murder of a rival crime boss’s favorite son, Magdalene fears the sins of her past have come back to haunt her. After spending half a lifetime in a seamy underworld where love is for sale and men worship at the altar of sex and greed, claiming sanctuary in a cathedral is the last thing she wants to do - and the only chance she has to find out who set her up.

With all clues pointing to Magdalene's ex-lover, a working girl called Lola, the legendary madam is reluctant to trust Tommy, a smooth-talking hired gun, and risk being burned again. But as time grows short and secrets are revealed, Magdalene will have to look into the dark places inside herself if she is to catch a killer and survive with body and soul intact.


In the corrupt city of Crawley, Massachusetts, passion, crime and religion collide in this steamy, neo-noir romantic thriller.




  

 




Nicola R. White is no stranger to the fantastic. Although there are no Furies in her family tree (that she knows of), she comes from a small city on the east coast of Canada where ghost stories and superstitions abound. She has worked on movie sets, as a bartender, in a lighthouse, and as a lawyer, and though she’s never been an exotic dancer like her character, Alex Hughes, she does know how to pole dance.

She has always been fascinated by the strange and morbid, and often stays up too late reading books that give her nightmares. She believes truth is stranger than fiction, and just a few of her heroes are Buffy, Dana Scully, and Xena.

Nicola is a member of Romance Writers of America and Romance Writers of Atlantic Canada, and is an active member and supporter of the award-winning Romance Divas website and online forum.



  


     


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to-find-you-bt-ban   Today we have the blog tour for To Find You by Cerece Rennie Murphy! Check it out and grab your copy November 29th! to-find-you About To Find You: Two Souls One Desire To Find Each Other...Again The journey begins with Ama and Ekow ~ Two lovers betrothed, then torn apart by an enemy disguised as a friend. And in the midst of an unthinkable bargain, their freedom is sold for a bag of gold. But what their enemies thought would break them only unleashed a power greater than life itself. From the ancient shores of Ghana to the streets of pre-colonial India, From the burning embers of Oahu to the heart of a nation’s capitol, Their souls risked war, death, and betrayal to bend destiny to their will. Will they survive? Will they succeed? Join them on this timeless journey and see…


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You can also order signed copies directly from my website at http://www.cerecerenniemurphy.com/shop


EXCERPT:
 

Part I:

 

In The Beginning

1754 ~ Gold Coast, Ghana

 

I wait for him here at the place where the night sky and the earth become lovers.  In the tall grass of our homeland, between two kingdoms, we meet. 

 

Getting here early is easier than slipping away late, especially now when life in my village is bustling with the preparations for our wedding in just three days. 

 

But as the reeds lick the backs of my calves, I know that this is only one part of the reason I wait. 

 

The truth is that I like to feel him coming.  At this hour, when my imagination reigns over every shape and whisper, I can almost see him walking on limbs taller and stronger than mine will ever be.  He cuts through the night that hides his slightly lighter shade and stalks his prey.  I cannot hear his approach, but I feel him drawing near, compelled by the same force that holds me where I stand—the scent of my desire in the air.

 

I close my eyes and breathe deeply, imagining I can taste him, too.  The flavor is salt, sweet grass, and home.  It fills my senses and makes me thirsty.

 

On the outside, my knees shake and my heart pounds, impatient for its mate, while the deepest part of me grows calm and still—stretching towards the peace that only his presence brings.

 

And he’s close now, so close. 

 

***

 

When we were children, Ekow was such a scrawny thing.  I used to like to wrestle him just to beat him, just to prove that I could.  I was young, determined and more than a little jealous of the physical prowess of my older brothers.  Secretly, I wanted to be like them, but my youngest brother, Kofi, was already 10 years my senior by the time I could walk.  With Ekow, I knew I’d finally found a way to prove that no boy could match me.

 

My laughter rumbles in the stillness as I think of it.  Oh, how angry he would be every time I beat him!  And in the beginning, there were many, many times when I did.  He would get so upset that his ears would twitch.  He would stomp away from his defeat with his hands balled up in knobby little fists—eyes glaring, ears twitching, while one of our elders cackled nearby with me sticking out my tongue. We didn’t see each other often enough for me to beat him every day, but I looked forward to it whenever I could.  I was always stronger than I looked, and even when he grew a little taller than me, his limbs seemed to flail awkwardly about him so that he was never quite coordinated.  And in my delicious reign as his tormentor, time seemed to stretch on forever, until one day, it stopped. 

 

I remember the sun burned low in the sky that day as the dust and amber light conspired against me in swirling fits that stung my eyes.  Rolling around on the ground, I was shocked to find myself panting for air.  Suddenly, his legs overpowered me.  I couldn’t throw him the way I had been able to before.  His grip was a vice that I had to sweat to free myself from, and even then, he could catch me again, quickly—too quickly for my liking. 

 

Unable to break free, I grunted and cursed as he pinned me down on my back.  At first, I refused to meet his gaze.  Beneath my eyelashes, I could swear I saw my own taunting smirk, the same one I had given him year after year, curling the corners of his lips.  Enraged, I shut my eyes and kicked my legs furiously, all to no avail.  I could feel the muscles of his powerful thighs holding me in place without the slightest indication of strain, and I couldn’t stand it.  

 

As if sensing the scream that would send my brothers flying to my aid, he suddenly lifted his body from mine, then leaned over to adjust his grip so that our hands were stretched out above my head, palm to palm, fingers intertwined in the grass and the dirt beneath us.

 

How did I not know, even then . . . ?

 

Something about the gesture was so strange that it distracted me from my fury.  The feel of his hands pressed firmly into mine made my stomach flutter and clench in a way that was startling, but not unpleasant.

 

“Ama,” he called.  “Ama, don’t scream.  Ama, please, surrender.”

 

It must have been the “surrender” that made my eyes fly open to meet his in absolute indignation.

 

Sometimes I like to think that if I’d never opened my eyes, it never would have happened, but this is, of course, foolish.  I was meant to see.

 

I looked up to find him staring down at me.  The smirk I’d feared was nowhere in sight.

 

Instead, his eyes held the same wariness I felt as I looked back at him, then quickly dissolved into something I’d never seen in him before.

 

He eyed my mouth with what I understand now as a mixture of surprise and captivation.  Back then, I still had no idea what was happening, but as his gaze lingered, I began to feel that someone was seeing me truly for the first time in my life.  I remember fighting the nameless emotion that closed my throat and pricked my eyes.

 

“Ama, surrender,” he whispered, “Please.”

 

And that’s when I understood that I held him in place as much as he held me. 

 

“Please,” he said again, and I finally realized what I needed to do all along.

 

Seeing the answer there in my eyes, he released my hands and rose to his feet.  I remember averting my eyes against the sudden rush of loneliness that came as he left.  But at the corner of my vision, I saw it, his hand extended out to help me up.  He’d done it before, even as I beat him and he’d risen in defeat while I remained holding my belly in victorious laughter on the ground.  I’d always ignored the gesture until that moment, when suddenly it felt like the most natural thing in the world to accept his help.

 

When I finally stood, I noticed for the first time that he’d grown at least 10 inches since the last time I saw him.

 

Despite my daze, I frowned.  “You’re taller than me,” I said in dismay.

 

“No, Ama,” he replied.  Ekow’s voice was deep, yet gentle as he stepped forward to take my other hand in his.  “Now, we are exactly the same height.”

 

I was 11 years old; Ekow was 13, and after that, nothing between us was ever the same.



About Cerece Rennie Murphy: author-photo Cerece Rennie Murphy fell in love with writing and science fiction at an early age. It’s a love affair that has grown ever since. In addition to working on the release of the 2nd book in the Ellis and The Magic Mirror children’s book series with her son, Mrs. Murphy is developing a 2-part science fiction thriller set in outer space. Mrs. Murphy lives and writes in her hometown of Washington, DC with her husband, two children and the family dog, Yoda. To learn more about the author and her upcoming projects, please visit her website at www.cerecerenniemurphy.com. Website: www.cerecerenniemurphy.com Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/Cerece-Rennie-Murphy-205753729546299/ Twitter: https://twitter.com/CereceRMurphy  


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Monday, November 28, 2016

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Crown Jewels by Ella James Publication Date: November 20th, 2016 Genre: Contemporary Romance

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Synopsis:

From USA Today bestseller Ella James...
After that close-up of his package on the sailboat in Morocco, TMZ started calling him Crown Jewels.
Not that I keep track of Prince Liam. Definitely don’t stalk him online like my friends do. I’m out of that scene now. My family’s reality show might still be running, but I’ve been off-screen for a while. When people pass me on the sidewalk, they might squint, but most of them don’t scream “Lucy Rhodes” and ask about my love of Lucky Charms or how my broken toe healed.
Prince Liam—my stalking his Instagram—that’s just for fun. It’s my dirty little secret. Trust me, I’m the only woman in the world who doesn’t actually want him.
Except I’m back in the Hamptons for the first time in two years. I’m at a party, and Prince Manwhore is here as well. I tell myself that smile has no effect on me. That his ridiculous charisma is a parlor trick I see right through.
After our one night together, no one knows that I succumbed. It doesn’t matter. It meant nothing. Not until I see those two pink lines.
** Crown Jewels is an 80,000-word contemporary romance novel with no cliffhanger ending.

Excerpt:

LUCY I awaken in darkness. The room is pitch black, and someone’s arm is locked around me. For a blind, horrific second, fear grips my heart, so hard and painful that I gasp. And then I smell him. I’m not sure exactly where I am right at his moment. But I smell aftershave and soap, a little bit of sunscreen and a little bit of sweat, and my body knows it’s him. Prince Liam. Liam, prince of the Isle of Gael, is lying in this bed behind me. A few careful, quiet breaths and I’m pretty sure…he’s sleeping. Holy Hello Kitty. Prince Liam is sleeping next to me. My body flushes, bliss and horror. How’d we get here? What the hell is going on? And then I feel his fingers in my hair. His hand is in my hair—right now! He fell asleep rubbing my hair. My eyes fly to the windows: dark. What time is it? My clutch is somewhere in this room. I’m not sure where. I shut my eyes and try to keep my breathing even as I run the night’s events back through my mind. Downstairs, talking to the Playmate. Bryce. My body jerks at the memory, and I can feel Prince Liam’s body rock a little bit against mine. Big and wide and hard. He’s bowed around me like a shield. Heat blooms in between my legs. I freaked out, and he saw me. I embarrassed myself, walked in on some kind of threesome. Why did he come back? It’s his room, you moron. I’m probably in his guest room. I draw a deep breath in and feel his sturdy arm tighten around me. I feel his face against my neck, the roughness of his scruffy beard. Warmth spreads through me. Then he stirs some more and makes a low sound in his throat. And then I feel his mouth against my neck. His lips— He’s kissing me. I don’t mean to make a sound, but then I feel him press himself against my backside. Terror bubbles in me. “Stop!” I pull away, and he’s awake. His eyes, I see them in the dark. They’re wide. He pushes up on his arm and holds his big hand up. I watch him rub his eyes. He looks around. He looks confused. “You fell asleep,” I offer. He blinks at me as if he didn’t understand my words. Then he reaches for me. He takes my hand and cradles it in his two hands. He looks into my eyes. “Are you all right?” he asks me, voice low, words rolling with that Scottish-sounding accent of his. “I’m fine.” He shakes his head slowly, at least I think I see him do that. Then he’s simply staring at me. With those hazel eyes. Dear God, he’s gorgeous. His hand traces mine. Then he lies back down and pulls me down beside him. He wraps me up against his body, and I notice he’s not pushing his dick against me anymore. “You smell good,” he murmurs. “You have pretty hair.” “Are you drunk?” I think I see his lips twitch. “I don’t get drunk.” I turn around to face him. He pushes some hair off my forehead. Then he kisses me. It’s so gentle, so careful, I can’t help responding. He tastes like cinnamon, like liquor. His mouth explores mine, his tongue gliding past my own, his big hand in my hair again. He kisses me until I can’t breathe, and then he pulls away. “Tá tú álainn.” I frown. He smiles, that gentle, gorgeous smile. “Gaelic.” He tips his forehead to mine. He says something else I don’t understand, then kisses the side of my mouth, his lips feathering gently over mine. I feel his knee move, as if he’s shifting his hips, and I can’t help pulling him closer for another kiss. I touch his shoulders as I kiss him, and I can feel his body tense under my hands. His tongue glides back into my mouth, and he moans. Holy shit. I kiss him deeper and his body rocks against mine. His hands are on my head; he pulls me closer, till we’re pressed together, chest to hips. He says something low and very soft, something that sounds like, “On all that is holy…” Then his hand is on my shoulder, squeezing. His hand is squeezing, then he’s grasping my breast. I grind myself against him, gasping between kisses. My body burns with heat and fear. My heart riots. Adrenaline almost overcomes me at the feel of his hard body up against mine, his chest pumping, his breath warm. I’m losing it when his hand leaves my breast and slides around my hip to cradle me against his body. God, I’ve never been handled this way, as if…I’m everything. He’s rough then gentle, firm then tender, desperate all the while. I can feel the warmth of his breath, can hear the pattern of his ragged inhalations. His scratchy cheek presses against mine, and I can feel his body heat. He leans away, his chest still pumping. I put my hand between his pecs. I can’t help it. He’s so…perfect. My fingertips wander to the seal above his heart, the royal tattoo he got when he was younger. I trace my finger down his chest, and the prince’s abs harden. “Christ.” That was a flinch, I think. I swear to God, I can feel the heat pulse in between my legs. Something overtakes me, something big and brash and heady: power. I rub my fingertip over the hair that trails down toward his pants, and that’s when I see his stiff erection. My brain explodes with memories of perfection wrapped in wet boxer-briefs. I’m not thinking. I just touch. He sucks back a sharp breath. I trace the plump, perfect head, hating the fabric barrier between my hand and his skin. Liam groans, his length jutting toward me. I look into his eyes and find them hazy. “Lucy…” “You want me to touch it?” My voice is sultry, not my voice at all. I’m rubbing him before he has the chance to answer. His breath catches. Then he moans low in his throat and starts to pant. His eyes are shut, I find as I rub his thick cock through his pants. His hand hovers over my mine as if he wants to grab me. His long fingers curl into a fist. I drag my fingers down the length of him, surprised to find he’s even bigger than I thought. His heavy eyelids lift a little. My Lord, he’s fucking gorgeous. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a more perfect male, and this one, shirtless, panting as he presses up against my hand—he turns me on so much I want to screw him. Holy hell, I want to screw Prince Liam. I try to grip him through his pants, fondle his balls, waiting for him to jump up and throw me on the bed. Waiting for him to scare me. But he doesn’t. He just locks his big fist up over my arm and leans his head back on the pillow, groaning through his locked jaw as I unbutton his pants and come to his black boxer-briefs. I can see his head so well. I see the rim of it. I rub a fingertip over it and he mutters a curse. His hand uncurls, the side of his fingers touching my wrist. I reach inside his boxer-briefs and wrap my hand around him. Still, he doesn’t grab my arm. I watch his face as I firm up my grip and stroke him. I can feel his hips tremble. I fold his fly back, try to pull his briefs down. He lifts his hips and pulls them down himself. I look with wide eyes at what has got to be an eight-inch dick and the weighty balls below. Crown Jewels. I touch his balls and watch them draw up underneath my fingertips. I run my hand from the base of his cock back up toward the tip. His eyes open on a deep breath. “Fuck…” Oh my God, is that a little bit of precum? I feel a rush of heat between my own legs as I blink at it. For the first time in two years, I clench. I feel greedy. Needy. Holy hell, I have to have him. My head spins as I climb on top of him, straddling his hips as his eyes rise to meet mine. He flexes beneath me, and a zip of fear streaks through me. That he’ll throw me off and get on top of me. That he’ll grab my wrists and squeeze. Instead, Prince Liam peers up at me with hooded eyes, smiling a pirate’s smile as his hand rubs my knee. I pull my dress up and struggle with my thong. My hands are shaking too hard to pull it off. I rub myself against him, panting. Liam groans. “Christ almighty…” His jaw is locked as he rasps, “Lucy.” Then he rips my thong. He says something else in what I realize must be Gaelic. Then he’s reaching down, stroking himself. With the fingers of his other hand, he parts my lips. He rubs a finger over me, making me tremble. “Fuck, you’re beautiful…” I don’t know how he knows because his eyes are shut, but I love the way his face looks. Suddenly it’s all I can do to stay still. And then I can’t. I’m shaking as I pull his cock away from his amazing abs. My legs quiver as I rise up, holding his shaft, pushing his thick head against my entrance. His lips are parted now, his eyes still shut. I sink down on him inch by slow, amazing inch and watch him writhe, knees coming up around me as I take him deep—so deep I can’t help crying out. His hands squeeze my hips, not to hard. And then he’s lifting me off him, his muscular arms straining so my legs don’t have to. His powerful abs ripple with each thrust: he rises just a little, letting me sink down on him. I put my hands over his and use my legs to rise and fall, taking control of things. Taking control because I have to. He doesn’t let me fully. Liam sets the pace, his big breaths punctuating the rhythm of our thrusting. I’m rising up, using the well-honed muscles of my thighs, but his hands around my hips are lifting, too. When I sink, I lean over, pinching his nipples sometimes, reaching around behind myself to cup his balls. His groans are loud and ragged. His face is tense, almost pained, and I love it when I feel the goose-bumps on his diamond-chiseled hips. Then he changes something up… Changes the angle. When he fills me up…I lose control. I can’t stop the sounds from pouring from my throat. Can’t stop the way I lean sideways against his raised knee, gripping it with my arm. I hear a whimper, and it’s mine. “Oh God!” I’m so full. I don’t think I’ve ever been this full before… “That’s right,” he murmurs, thrusting harder. When he pulls out and lifts me up, I’m desperate for him, scrambling to get back on that huge cock. My skin tingles with sweat. My mouth is open; I can’t breathe— I feel him harden, swell and tighten, stretching me. When I’m filled with him, I grind around. “Oh my God!” I’m right there on the edge. He draws me off him, and I fumble to grab onto his arms and press myself back down. My fingers graze his hips, and then he pushes me down hard. I’m filled so deep and full, my body starts to quake. My stomach quivers, and my eyes flip open just in time to find he’s watching me. His lips are curved, his eyes lust-hazed. I do the only thing I can think of to equalize the situation, reaching around behind myself again to roll his big balls in my shaking fingers. One roll, followed by a gentle tug. I feel his cock thump hard inside me, causing me to lean down on him. That’s where I lie as heat fills me: there across his flawless chest. For just a second, his hands cup my face. His eyes linger on mine, his mouth still open with pleasure, his thick pecs rising under me. “Luce. Goddamn.” It’s an exultation. I feel so good there on him, I can’t move for a long moment. He just came inside me, and it feels so right. I marvel at how…fine I feel. How tired and good and…good. I stroke my nails up his side. “Mmm.” I grin. Liam laughs, a throaty sound. I feel his lips on my forehead as he leans up, the quick swipe of his palm over my hair. “You are fucking perfect, Lucy Rhodes.” He pushes up on one elbow, holding me against him for a moment, one big arm around me. Then I’m easing off him, and he’s moving lithely off the bed. “Let me get you something.” I sink into the covers, waiting for the fallout: for a shudder, for a sob. But nothing comes. He returns smirking, and grins broadly when our eyes meet. Instead of handing me the warm, wet cloth, he delves under the covers, his knuckles grazing my belly as he spreads the cloth over me and lays his hand there, as if offering some wordless blessing over my vagina. I start laughing, and he laughs with me. “You’re a real prince, Liam.” He grins. “I’ve been told.” And it’s so natural, I don’t feel funny cleaning up under the covers with him there beside me. I stretch out on my back, catching my breath. I’m thinking how sad I’ll be to get up when he lies beside me, his big shoulder bumping mine. “You were incredible,” he says in a gravelly voice. And somehow, it’s not patronizing or weird. Just very, very genuine. I giggle like a dumb teenager. He turns over on his side, propping his head in his hand as he looks down on me. Then he lies back flat, wraps an arm around me, pulls me close, and kisses just under my ear. One of his legs rubs mine. He makes a soft, male sound, then falls asleep as if we do this every night. I lie awake staring at him in the darkness. Who is this man? I run my open palm over his hair, which he let down sometime when I wasn’t looking. He relaxes just a little more against me, and I like it. That’s the last thought that I have before I wake up to an empty bed.
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Ella James is the USA Today bestselling author of fifteen teen and adult love stories. She's an angst-a-holic who loves exploring difficult situations and the emotions of the people caught up in them. Also, smut. But always, always romance.
Ella's obsessions include vanilla cream soda, hiking, other obscure, crunchy stuff like rock collecting, and the antics of her 2.5 little monsters. (Monsters 1 and 2 will meet Monster 3 in November).

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