He stuck the knife in the ground and stripped off his leathers. The tunic came off, revealing a long, lean, muscled torso, covered in tattoos. Snakes ran up and down his arms, his pecs and his shoulders. A skull blazed on his chest.
“You’re the big boss.” She looked up at me and smiled. She was dressed in a cheap cotton shirt and jeans that should be on the burn pile, but that smile was pure gold. This girl had guts.
“Not what I was expecting. You impress me,” he said to her, his voice low.
“I’m flattered. I get the feeling there isn’t much you’ve seen that impresses you,” she said.
“Katya,” he whispered, and she shivered. He so rarely said her first name. “I’ve never seen anything like you.”
Words like that, and he didn’t need to make any deals. He’d barely finished talking, and she was all over him. His assistant was somewhere in the building, Katya was positive the conference room door wasn’t locked, and she didn’t care at all. Not even one little bit.
She sat down in his lap with such force that his chair rolled backwards, threatening to tip over. She was able to kiss him once, but then his hands were in her hair, yanking her away.
“Ah, but this is supposed to be a punishment, remember? Who said you could kiss me?” he said, and she felt him nipping at the side of her neck.
“Please, I don’t want to – AH!” she ended in a shriek when he bit so hard, she wondered if he broke skin.
“Dissension. Tsk tsk, Ms. Tocci. You’re on a roll tonight. Get off me.”
She wasn’t given a chance to comply. He pulled harder on her hair, and she was forced to follow his hand. She slid off his lap and managed to get her feet under her, still moving with him as he stood up.
Katya was dragged across the room and pressed up against the floor-to-ceiling window. She gulped at the feeling of cold glass on her hot skin, then moaned when she felt his lips on the back of her neck. She wasn’t sure what had gotten into him – their last time together, he hadn’t been so aggressive. Maybe she was seeing a new side to him. Or the real him.
Very pleased to meet you, Mr. Stone.
“Please,” she said again, pushing her hips away from the window and rubbing her ass against his crotch. “Please, I need you.”
“Hmmm, that’s nice, but I don’t think that’s what you mean,” he whispered. As he kissed his way down her spine, his hand slowly slid out of her hair and crept over the back of her neck.
“’Please, Wulf’. She begs so sweetly, yet still can’t get what she wants.”
His free hand was at her hip, yanking and pulling at her underwear. Shoving them down, letting them fall to her ankles. Leaving her in only her bra.
She could feel his suit against her bare skin as he stood upright, and his hand slid around her neck, gently wrapping around her throat. She gasped as she was pulled back, her spine forced to arch as her head was drawn into his shoulder. She planted her palms against the window and started panting while his other hand moved across her stomach.
“I want …”
The hand on her throat squeezed tighter, the hand on her stomach moved lower, but neither pushed her over the edge she was so desperately seeking. She stood on the balls of her feet, almost crying from the tension running through her body.
“If you can’t even say what you fucking want,” he growled, his breath hot against her face. “I don’t know why I should bother giving it to you.”
“Please, I want you to fuck me,” she whispered. The chuckle she heard sounded more like a growl, and she moaned when she felt his tongue against her ear.
“What was that? I couldn’t quite hear you,” he hissed.
“Just fuck me,” she hissed right back.
“Just fuck you? That’s it? My, your demands are so very simple.”
Alright, Wulfric. You win.
“Please, Wulf,” she purred, placing one of her hands over his own and moving it down between her legs. “Fuck me right now. Right here. Against this window. Fuck me so hard, people down on the street will hear me screaming your name.”
She’d never spoken like that before, to anyone. She briefly wondered if it was too much. If she sounded ridiculous. But then he was slamming his dick into her, and she realized it wasn’t too much at all.
Jesus, I should’ve been talking like this years ago.
“I thought that was going to take you all fucking night,” he groaned as he bucked his hips against her. Slow and gentle certainly wasn’t on the menu that night – he just instantly started fucking her like it was his job. She couldn’t even respond. Could barely breathe. He was pounding the air from her lungs, and the hand on her throat was ensuring she couldn’t suck any of it back in.
“See what happens when you do as I ask? You get rewarded,” he panted, finally moving his hands. She gulped in air greedily and managed to nod.
“Yes. Yes, thank you. God, thank you so much,” she moaned. He gripped her hips and yanked them further away from the glass, forcing her to bend at almost a right angle. The new position enabled him to fuck her even harder, something she hadn’t thought was possible. She shrieked with every thrust, her hands beating against the window.
“So polite. So sweet. Katya Tocci, best fucking dessert I’ve ever had.”
She shrieked again as she was whirled around. She thought she was going to fall over, the position she was in wasn’t favorable when competing against gravity, but she didn’t have to worry. Wulf always had a plan. She was slammed down against the conference table top. She pressed her cheek to the hard wood and let out a long groan when his hips started banging against her, over and over.
“The best. God, you’re the best,” she was whispering. Babbling, unsure even of what exactly she was saying. She had her arms stretched out to the sides, gripping the edges of the table, but he roughly grabbed her right arm and jerked it back.
“Touch yourself,” he commanded, lifting her hips enough so she could work her hand between them and the table.
“Oh my god.”
One press of her fingertips, and she shot off like a starter pistol. Screamed as an orgasm rocked every single nerve ending. She went to pull her hand away so she could bathe in the sensations, but Wulf’s hand flattened over her own, his fingers working above hers. She whimpered and cried out as wave after wave of pleasure coursed through her. Became too much for her. Overwhelmed her. Yet still, he wrung more out of her, his fingers pressing even harder. It wasn’t until she was lifting her feet off the ground, her free hand pounding on the table top, begging him for mercy, that he let her go.
And immediately, she missed his touch.
Before she could beg him to start all over again, though, he had his own orgasm. He came with a shout, dragging his nails down her back before grabbing onto her hips. Digging his fingers into her flesh. While he throbbed inside of her, bruises throbbed on the outside of her, and every nerve ending throbbed within her.
“Holy shit, Tocci,” he panted, and she felt him lean forward. Felt his forehead against her back.
“You … you were … that was incredible,” she whispered, still finding it hard to breathe.
“Jesus, it was like you were angry at me.”
“I was – your little strip tease from earlier pissed me off. How dare you keep something so wonderfully inappropriate from me.”
She managed a laugh.
“Duly noted. Next time I learn a new trick, I’ll share it with you immediately.”
Are you ready to meet the neighbors?
Neighbors by Stylo Fantome releases on September 27th!
Add to your TBR at: http://bit.ly/2bxk5rb
Things a good neighbor can do for you:
1. Give you a cup of sugar
2. Let you borrow his lawnmower
3. Water your plants while you’re on vacation
4. Make your eyes roll back in your head with his tongue
Katya Tocci has never paid much attention to who lives next door – her career always kept her too busy. She’s a good girl, working her way to becoming the most sought after cake designer in all of San Francisco.
But even a good girl’s gotta cut loose once in a while, right? So one fake dating profile later, and she’s ready to tarnish her squeaky clean image. Little does she know, her fun time is closer to home than she ever imagined.
Throw in a neighbor who wants to corrupt her, and another who just wants to own her, and her entire world is flipped upside down.
Who knew neighbors could be so helpful?
About the Author:
Crazy woman from a remote location in Alaska (where the need for a creative mind is a necessity!), I have been writing since … forever? Yeah, that sounds about right. I have been told that I remind people of Lucille Ball – I also see shades of Jennifer Saunders, and Denis Leary. So basically, I laugh a lot, I’m clumsy a lot, and I say the F-word A LOT.
I like dogs more than I like most people, and I don’t trust anyone who doesn’t drink. No, I do not live in an igloo, and no, the sun does not set for six months out of the year, there’s your Alaska lesson for the day. I have mermaid hair – both a curse and a blessing – and most of the time I talk so fast, even I can’t understand me.
Yeah. I think that about sums me up.
Website | Facebook | Twitter | Amazon | Goodreads
They assume things about me because of the way I dress and my tattoos.
I am so much more.
You made it easy to fall for you.
Turns out I was the only one falling.
I hope you’re happy.
No, that’s a lie and you’re better than I am at telling those.
Publisher: The Wild Rose Press
No man. Bad job. And Murder. Hattie Cooks is still searching for her dream job and one might be available…in the Big Apple, far from friends, family, and Allan Wellborn, the man who still makes her heart race. In the meantime, she finds temporary employment at an accounting firm where two auditor friends turn up dead.
Detective Allan Wellborn dropped Hattie for Blonde Bimbo who, coincidentally, is employed at NLB where fishy things are taking place. When Allan interviews Hattie, he must determine why all signs point to her as a suspect.
Can Hattie discover why Allan dumped her and who is murdering auditors before death strikes again?
Amazon best-selling and award-winning author, Vicki Batman, has sold many romantic comedy works to the True magazines, several publishers, and most recently, a romantic comedy mystery to The Wild Rose Press. She is a member of Romance Writers of America, Sisters in Crime, and several writing groups. An avid Jazzerciser. Handbag lover. Mahjong player. Yoga practitioner. Movie fan. Book devourer. Cat fancier. Best Mom ever. And adores Handsome Hubby. Most days begin with her hands set to the keyboard and thinking “What if??”
Paige Abram never faces a problem she can’t solve until her high school sweetheart comes back into her life, and she’s bombarded with memories of their relationship. His presence is almost suffocating, but he’s still just as beautiful as she remembers.
His heart beat differently after its first love.
The moment Drake Wilkins sees her again, the numbness he’s felt since he walked away disappears. But she’s not the same girl he fell in love with back then. She’s colder, not as easy going; she’s a complete stranger now.
Her heart nearly quit after its first loss.
When a funeral has them returning to their hometown, a secret she’s kept from him all these years is revealed. She expects him to push her away but he doesn’t; he tests her just like when they were kids.
Their hearts resuscitate, but in the city, their love will face its biggest challenge of all: survival.
took off without a word to his pregnant young fiancé or their father. Having
secretly loved Lorraine for years, Dan assumes his twin’s identity as the
first-born son, as Lorraine’s husband and father of the baby she carried.
Around the lie, he created the perfect life.
long-lost brother is coming home—with amnesia. Dan is about to lose his tenuous
hold on this masquerade, and he must tell Lorraine the truth before Tom
remembers his true identity.
loves, the father of her children—or so she believed. Her first reaction to his
confession is disbelief…and then anger and hurt. Her whole married life has
been a lie. But Lorrie has a secret of her own—a secret that never seemed
important until now.
What will become of their family, their children…their marriage when everyone
learns the truth?
“Sometimes I want to take off the top of your head and screw your brain in right.” Turning from his brother, Daniel Beckett gripped the wrench and tightened the last spoke on his vintage Harley, his pride and joy, as though demonstrating the procedure. “You can’t be serious.”
“Never more serious in my life, Danny-boy,” Tom replied. “Don’t make like you’re so surprised.”
Dan stared up at his identical twin standing with their father’s old duffel bag slung over his shoulder, and shock stole any words he might have come up with. He dropped the wrench with a clang and stood, wiping his grimy hands on the jersey he’d appropriated from Tom.
Tom’s dark, troubled gaze swept over the shiny black bike without seeing it and returned to Dan. “I can’t stay, man.”
He turned and faced the road.
Dan struggled with the reality of just how miserable his brother was here. Tom hated the orchards and the rural Nebraska life, always had. “I know last night was bad. Dad rides you—”
“Rides me?” Tom cut in with biting sarcasm. “He has never, for one second, got off my butt for leaving college. He talks to me like I’m some kind of idiot. Like I’m an embarrassment to him, to all of you.”
Dan scrambled for words to keep his brother home. The night before, there had been another shouting match. As usual, Dan had tried to smooth things over and only gotten himself involved in the argument. Now their father was angry with both of them.
“He thinks he knows what’s best for you, Tom. Dad wants you to take over Beckett Orchards someday.”
Tom swung around, dropping the duffel bag. “I don’t want the damned orchards!” he snapped through clenched teeth. “If I stay he’ll keep bending me. He’ll make me work the farm. He’ll make me walk and talk and act like he wants me to.” The evening sun was setting behind his shoulder. “I can’t bend anymore.” His tone changed, becoming low-timbered as he confessed, “I’ll break.”
Dan’s chest ached with a growing panic. Maybe if he’d tried harder, fought harder, he could have made a difference.
“Danny, it’s me. Not you,” Tom said.
Tom always knew what he was thinking. Dan met his knowing gaze, and nodded. He shuddered to think of his father’s reaction to this. Whether Tom wanted to admit it or not, he was Gil Beckett’s pride and joy. Or so it had always seemed to Dan. Then his thoughts shifted and something in his heart contracted. “What about Lorraine?” he asked.
Tom and everyone else called her Lorrie, but Dan always thought of her as Lorraine. The name Lorraine held the air of mystery and femininity she deserved.
Tom tilted his dark head and shrugged. “What about her?”
The offhand question sparked the first flame of anger in Dan’s gut. There was a time when he’d had his own eye on Lorraine Loring, but after Tom quit college and came home, Gil had done his best to push a relationship between them, and Lorraine was crazy about Tom. But deep in his heart, Dan had harbored an insane hope that if things didn’t work out with Tom, she might turn to him. He shook his head to clear the image. “What did you tell her?”
Tom choked back a laugh. “Tell her? Man, I haven’t told anybody anything.”
“You’re going to leave without so much as a good-bye?”
Tom scraped his jaw with a thumb. “I’m sorry about her,” he said. “Dad pushed her on me. I like her,” he added quickly. “I just don’t want to marry her. Dad told me last week it’s time to take on responsibilities, get married. Well, I don’t want to marry anybody. At least not until I’m damned good and ready.”
“Then tell Dad that,” Dan coaxed. “Tell him you don’t want to marry her.”
Tom snorted. “Oh, right. And for once you think he’s going to listen? He won’t believe the farm isn’t my thing. Why would he believe Lorrie isn’t my thing either? He’d make my life hell.”
Dan didn’t argue. He knew Tom was right. It would take something drastic—something more than talk to sway the old man. “Shouldn’t you at least tell her?”
Tom stubbed his booted toe into the dirt and shook his head. He looked past Dan’s shoulder. “She’ll get over it.”
Anger seethed in Dan’s chest. In the distance a car stirred up a cloud of dust on the road. “If you’re going, get it the hell over with then.”
Angrily, Tom scooped up the bag. Their eyes met and held. On the outside they were mirror images of each other. On the inside they were as different as night and day. Dan wished like hell he could solve this problem. Wished he could say or do something that would make a difference. But he knew his brother’s discontent, and he knew, too, that there were no easy answers. He looked away.
Dan waited for his brother to speak.
“Tell Mom I love her. She’s the last one I’d want to hurt. It’s just that—” he raised his face to the lengthening summer shadows “—I can’t take this anymore.”
Their mother’s stroke had left her bedridden for the past eight months. “Sure. I’ll clean up after you, Tom. I’ve gotten pretty good at it.”
Tom didn’t reply.
Finally Dan glanced around. “How are you getting there?”
Tom’s old car had needed a new fuel pump for a month. Tom hefted the bag over his shoulder. “Someone will come along,” he said with his usual careless confidence.
Dan dug in his jeans pocket, came out with the key to his bike and threw it to Tom.
Tom stared at the key in his open palm. “You’ve barely paid it off.”
“Seems like a good deal to me, trading a bike for a farm.”
Tom turned and tied the bag on the back of the Harley. He threw one leg over the seat and started the engine. Levering the kickstand up with his heel, he headed toward the open road.
Dan’s brother and his bike grew rapidly smaller until both disappeared, leaving a cloud of dust on the gravel road. An unfamiliar emptiness filled him, one he wasn’t sure how to deal with, let alone explain.
Tom was gone. His brother. His twin. Half of himself.
As though by rote, he turned, picked up his spoke wrench, dropped it into the toolbox, and closed the lid. His promise to explain things to their mother, their father, and to Lorraine closed in with suffocating heaviness. Dear God, what had he done? What had Tom done?
He slumped down on the dented lid of the metal toolbox. From inside the garage, the radio announcer predicted fair weather for the extended forecast. Tom would have a safe trip. Wherever he was headed.
A fresh shard of anger knifed through Dan’s chest. Anger at the sudden twist of fate; at being left behind, which was crazy because this was where he wanted to be; at once again taking on the garbage end of the deal and picking up the pieces while Tom went his own merry way.
An hour later, he still sat on the toolbox, chilled by the cool evening breeze, his butt numb. He was no closer to an answer. How was he going to tell his father and break the old man’s heart? It was no secret that Gil Beckett favored Thomas, the son born only minutes before Dan. Tom had the love and approval Dan craved, and he’d just thrown it all away.
Dan carried the metal box to the garage. He might as well get it over with. Come clean. Let the chips fall where they may.
Behind him, gravel crunched. He stepped out of the garage and squinted at the headlights of the car that had pulled in. The engine died and the lights went out. There was no mistaking the old Buick. Lorraine Loring got out, closed the door and walked toward him.
His heart thundered against his ribs. Not now. Not yet. He hadn’t had a chance to talk to his father, hadn’t planned what he’d say, hadn’t come to grips with it in his own mind.
“We need to talk.” Her voice trembled with something strangely like fear. Did she know already? How? Had Tom done the right thing and stopped by on his way to the great unknown? The scent of jasmine floated to him on the night air. His heart kicked into high gear. Tom was gone. Tom was gone. Tom was gone.
And Lorraine was here.
The breeze loosened a silken tendril of hair the rich color of chocolate from her ponytail.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, intuitively sensing he wouldn’t like the answer.
“Tom, I… ”
Oh, hell. Dan glanced down at the faded jersey he wore. Tom’s shirt. As she often did—as everyone did— she’d mistaken him for his brother. He opened his mouth to speak, but she stopped him by pressing her index finger against his lips. The touch struck him like a bolt of lightning and rooted him to the spot. He couldn’t have spoken if his life had depended on it.
“I’m scared,” she said, tears glistening in the moonlight.
Her fear—and the vulnerability in her eyes—did something queer to Dan’s insides.
“Tom, I—I’m pregnant.”
The evening sounds faded to silence. Her words rang in Dan’s head. She stood in front of him trembling, waiting…waiting for what? His shock? Anger? Rejection?
Rejection. Like Tom’s refusal to marry this girl, or anyone? Like his flip “she’ll get over it”? Like his leaving? Not that Tom had known, but his actions would be a rejection all the same. Lorraine—and her baby—didn’t deserve that.
“Damn,” he said, cursing his brother.
“It was just that one time,” she said on a sob. “I didn’t think it would happen.”
She bit her lower lip and Dan’s heart wrenched. “But it did,” he finished for her.
She nodded. Her gaze touched his and her chin quivered. “Tom?”
He took her delicate shoulders in his hands. It was the first time he’d ever touched her and he liked it. More than he should have, but as much as he’d always known he would. Willingly she came to him—make that to Tom—and nestled against his chest. The tremors in her body arrowed straight to his soul and rekindled his anger. How could Tom have left her like this? How?
Beneath his chin, her soft hair beckoned exploration. He tunneled his callused fingers through the silken strands. Her firm young breasts pressed against him in a delectable fashion. If he was going to tell her, he should tell her now. He could easily grow addicted to her nearness. He’d watched her for years, wanted her from a distance, but she’d been chosen for Tom.
The thought that crept into his mind surpassed stupidity. That he entertained it in a rational state bordered on insanity. Sitting on that toolbox must have numbed his brain as well as his backside.
A soft shudder passed through her frame and her damp tears soaked through Tom’s shirt. How long he held her, he wasn’t sure. Finally sounds entered his consciousness: the motor tinging as it cooled beneath the hood of her father’s Buick; locusts in the orchards; LeAnn Rimes’ sultry voice from radio in the garage singing about underneath the starlight…’there’s a magical feeling, so right…it’ll steal your heart tonight.’
In the end, he really didn’t have a choice. No way could he make himself say the words. Tom’s gone and he won’t be back. Your baby’s father ran off and deserted you. But, hey—you’ll get over it. Had she not been pregnant, had she been someone else, he might have been able to explain things better.
But she wasn’t. She was Lorraine. And he wanted her.
‘Can’t fight the moonlight, no….’
She pulled back and gazed up, her expression so lovely and vulnerable it hurt. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.
The decision was surprisingly easy. “It’s not your fault,” he said shortly. “We can get married.”
She caught her breath.
“Will you marry me?” he asked.
Lorraine nodded and burst into tears against his brother’s jersey.
About Cheryl St. John
contemporary romances. Her stories have earned numerous
RITA nominations, Romantic Times awards and are
published in over a dozen languages. In describing her
stories of second chances and redemption, readers and
reviewers use words like, “emotional punch, hometown feel,
core values, believable characters and real life situations.”
With a 4.9 star rating on amazon, her bestselling non-fiction
book, Writing With Emotion, Tension & Conflict by Writers
Digest Books is available in print and digital.
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Now Luke had to find this woman and explain to her that the father of her child was not only dead, but was also a werewolf. How hard could it be?Ashe had always considered herself to be a strong woman, so when her baby’s father disappears she does the only thing she can…she carries on.
Now with her parents having passed, she’s back in her childhood home, ready to raise her daughter Lilly there as well. If only her uncle wasn’t such a nuisance things would be perfect.
There’s a new guy in town that grabs her attention. It’s just too bad that he comes bearing the worst news…her baby’s father has died, and her daughter is so much more than she appears.
Luke did his job. He delivered the news of his friend’s death. However, he didn’t count on Ashe being the one sassy, strong-willed woman his wolf would never allow him to walk away from.
Bianca Silver is back in her hometown, researching shifter culture with her two best friends. An unexpected encounter in the woods with the teacher she’s dreamed about since she was a teenager sends her quiet new life into a tailspin, putting Bianca in grave danger and offering her a depth of longing and pleasure she never imagined was possible.
Ian Anderson has spent the last ten years trying to repress the violent lust and protectiveness he feels toward honor student, Bianca Silver. When he reunites with grown-up Bianca in the woods the night of a scenting ceremony his control over his instincts is lost. But loving Bianca isn’t as easy as he thought it would be. Between her stubborn streak and the efforts of the person who seems to want her out of the picture, it’s going to take their combined wisdom for these fated mates to begin their new life.
Roman and his friends have come to Blue Creek for the scenting ceremony in search of mates, and Roman manages to stumble on the woman who can temper his alpha heart before they even get there. His wolf is ready to pounce on the little beauty even when Juliet barely gives him a second glance. Her sassy ways scream “catch me if you can” to Roman, and he’s determined to win the woman his wolf needs.
When Juliet can no longer resist her attraction to Roman she gives in to her wolf on one condition – she refuses to be dominated by a male no matter how much alpha is in his blood. But her need to prove she’s equal is so strong it blinds her good judgment, and she invites an evil to shift its course causing her to risk losing her Romeo. Forever.
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