Friday, December 28, 2012



Seven years ago on Christmas Eve, Justice, the one person Tristan cared about the most, vanished. Alone for yet another holiday, he rescues a man in an alley only to come face to face with his missing lover.

But something is different about Justice, and before Tristan can stop himself, he welcomes him back into his life. It forces him into the middle of vampire gang wars and he finds himself on the run with Justice. A car chase, a destroyed Christmas tree, and the alleged murder of a spy vamp sends them into the worst blizzard Pennsylvania has endured in years.

Can he allow Justice to have his heart, or will he demand Tristan’s life instead?


“Come here,” Justice said softly. “Let me hold you for a moment.”

At his words, Tristan gulped, the familiar surge of adrenaline jumping through his system. He allowed Justice to draw him closer. In the embrace of the shadows, he savored the feel of his ex’s lips on his forehead then along his temple and down to his mouth where he kissed Tristan deeply. Their tongues dueled, and dimly he remembered how Justice had sucked the steak dry and how he’d showed him fangs and a distorted face. But just as quickly as the memories surfaced, he dashed them to bits. This was Justice, his Justice.

He kissed his old lover back and threaded his fingers into his hair. Everything about his ex felt cold, but surely that stemmed from the winter wind? Justice pushed him more firmly to the bricks and then swept his hand inside Tristan’s coat and palmed his groin. Thoroughly aroused, Tristan groaned loudly, his cock hardening until it throbbed painfully against his zipper.

“I’ve missed you more than you can ever comprehend,” Justice murmured in his ear. He rubbed Tristan’s erection faster. “The memories of making love in your loft apartment are what kept me from going crazy.”

If he didn’t stop caressing him, Tristan would come right there in his jeans. It had been seven long years since they’d been together, and he’d not found it in himself to pursue anyone else, not even for pure carnal pleasure.

“Please, Justice.” He gulped. “Don’t do this to me."


Thursday, December 27, 2012



Perdition guide Damian is supposed to escort sexy Amanda to Hell. But he’d much rather keep her.

Damian Noire is a Perdition Guide. He escorts people who die to their rightful spot in Hell. Business always seems to pick up around the Holidays and this Christmas is no exception. Damian’s assignment is to bring a beautiful young woman to Hell to stand before the judgment assembly, and then take her to her assigned circle of Hell. It sounds simple. But it’s about to become the hardest assignment he’s ever performed.

Amanda Wright might have been unjustly judged. She might not belong in Hell at all. Problem is, Damian really kind of likes her. He especially likes enjoying her lush, willing body under the mistletoe. If he gets her the judgment she truly deserves, he’s probably going to lose her forever. But if he doesn’t help her, an innocent may spend eternity in Hell. It appears to be a lose/lose situation on all fronts. Proving once again that holidays truly are hell!


Holidays Are Hell: Devil Under the Mistletoe
Sam Cheever
All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2012 Sam Cheever
This e-book file contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language which some may find offensive and which is not appropriate for a young audience. Changeling Press E-Books are for sale to adults, only, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase. Please store your files wisely, where they cannot be accessed by under-aged readers.

"Fuck you."

"Not today, demon. I'm off to get a Brazilian wax. Maybe next time."

"Real men don't wax their balls."

Don laughed, wiggling his fingers at Damian as he walked out into the broiling suns of Hell to start his post-holiday vacation.

Damian watched him go, feeling sour. He'd really been looking forward to some time off. The holidays were a busy time for the perdition guides. For some strange reason, more people died around the holidays, and about a third of them had to be dragged South to much warmer climes when they did. His only consolation was that the guys in white were even busier than the perdition guides.

As always, it sucked to be an Angel. Not only did they walk around with giant, metaphorical sticks up their asses, but they never got a vacay. At least Damian knew he'd finally get his time off once he finished whatever hellish task the assembly had lined up for him.

Walking against the tide, Damian glared at all his fellow guides as they headed out. They all gave him some version of the grief he'd gotten from Don. It wasn't exactly a compassionate group.

He walked through the black onyx, double doors and past the few guides and their clients still sitting in hard-backed wooden chairs. They were waiting for their time in front of the assembly, to learn which circle of Hell they'd be placed in for eternity.

Tears and glowers dominated on the pale, sometimes torn and blood-covered, faces waiting to be placed. Supplicants rarely liked waking up from death to discover they were being taken South rather than North. That was usually when your average damned soul embraced his or her inner politician.
Much to their chagrin, they quickly learned that lies and obfuscations didn't go quite as far in Hell as they did in Washington, DC.

Unlike Heaven, when a body was brought to Hell, the guide didn't waste any time making them look better. There was no point getting pretty and then heading into the fiery, monster-strewn environs of Hades.

Worm, the assembly clerk, scowled at him from across the room. The small, round man wore wire-rimmed glasses and stood in a haze of smoke that rose from the cigarette dangling between his lips. Worm didn't like when people entered the vault without checking in.

Waiting his turn, Damian ignored the clerk and stood impatiently to the side of the high, curved platform where the assembly judges looked down on the damned. One by one, the supplicants were dragged before the judges and their guides were carefully questioned about their lives. Then the judges briefly discussed the facts and decided where the supplicant belonged. Once it was decided, the guide stepped back, and the chief judge pointed his pitchfork at the damned. In a burst of light, the supplicant would be dropped into the fiery pits beneath the floor or transferred to his new home in an outer circle of Hell.

No muss, no fuss.

An hour later, the chief judge turned his red countenance toward Damian and inclined his head. The overhead light sparked against the razor-sharp tips of the judge's horns. When human mythology created its first representation of Satan, it had been an assembly judge they had depicted. Only the judges were squat and red with white horns and forked tails.

By contrast, the perdition guides looked like exceptionally attractive humans.

Damian moved to the spot at the center of the room where supplicants were meant to stand. He bowed slightly as five massive, red heads turned his way. The chief held his black pitchfork upright in one hand, leaning slightly against it as he peered down at Damian. "PD Damian, I trust you have come before this assembly ready and willing to perform your duties?"

Damian glared at the judge, knowing him well enough to understand the asshole was tweaking him. "Sir, I've never been more ready, and the only other time I've been this willing was when I had two supra demon females naked and writhing on the black sand beside the boiling sea. But of course that couldn't possibly compare to this."

The assembly chuckled darkly.

"I trust you don't intend to whip your dick out in this instance, however," the chief added with a wicked gleam.

"Not just yet, sir. Though I wouldn't get me too worked up if I were you, or I won't be responsible for the results."

More chuckling ensued. Damian stood waiting, trying not to show his impatience. Not because he thought he'd be punished for it, but because he knew the assembly would delay his departure all that much longer if they knew how much he wanted out of there.

"I'll bear that in mind." The chief looked down at the granite tablet before him, running a curved, yellow claw over the words inscribed there. "Woman kills spouse when he admits her ass does look fat in her new jeans. Oh, never mind, that was last night." The chief shook his head with disgust.
"Human males are so stupid. You never tell a woman she looks fat. Even I know that. Hmm, oh yes, here it is." He glanced up. "Your client's name is Amanda Wright. She made the list for killing someone while driving under the influence. Ms. Wright apparently ran over an old man with her car.

She'll be ready to pick up in about two minutes. You'll want to hurry. The white ones have instigated a quota system, and they're not above taking ours along with theirs just to fuck us up. We always get them back, of course, but it takes hours of bookwork to set things straight." He glared upward, his claws digging into the stone tablet with a grinding noise. "I'd like to twist those pearly sticks in their asses until they scream."

"Sir, when you talk like that it makes me want to reach for my dick." Damian grinned, giddy with his timeline. It would only take him a few minutes to grab the girl, drag her to the vault, and wait for the judges to proclaim. With any luck, he'd be on the beach within a couple of hours.

Grinning, the chief slammed the pitchfork into the ground to dismiss him. Damian turned away. He had about a minute to get up to the earthly plane. He started to run, barely holding back a joyful whistle as he went.


Wednesday, December 26, 2012

ELF-SATISFIED by Sam Cheever

ELF-SATISFIED by Sam Cheever

This Christmas, Deirdre’s own, personal elf has a delicious present waiting for her!

Deirdre Phillips knows she's skirting trouble when she waits until late on Christmas Eve to finish up her gift shopping. But she has no idea how much trouble, until she walks out of the mall and finds herself embroiled in a timeless war between elves and dark fairies.

It seems that Christmas magic is more real than Deirdre ever suspected. And when she learns the battle somehow involves her, she quickly discovers the holiday season can be dangerous too.

Fortunately for Deirdre, she has her very own Christmas elf to help her survive the night. And he’s got very definite ideas for how he wants to spend Christmas!



Deirdre shoved the mall door open and walked out into a bitterly cold night. An icy breeze pummeled her, flinging small, bright snowflakes into her face and down the neckline of her sweater. “Damn!” Deirdre sucked air, nearly dropping her bags. Momentarily disoriented in the thick fall of snow, she looked around for her car, finding it parked at the far edge of the nearly empty lot. It was already covered in a thick blanket of snow. “Double and triple damn.”

She tucked her head and moved forward as quickly as she could with twenty pounds of Christmas bags hanging off her arms. The air swirled around her and Deirdre shivered, feeling suddenly dizzy. She stopped, closed her eyes and took a deep breath, coughing as she sucked snow into her lungs.

Opening her eyes again, she started toward the spot where she’d left her car. She walked for a few minutes and then looked up, thinking she should have gotten to her car already. She blinked. There was no car. Squinting through the dense curtain of snow, Deirdre turned in a slow circle. Maybe she’d gotten disoriented somehow.

Nothing. She realized with a horrified gasp that she couldn’t even see the mall.

Air swirled around her again and a light flashed past. A muffled explosion sprayed snow and ice into the air a few feet to her left. Deirdre gave a little scream.

What the hell?

The air swirled past and this time, something grabbed her. She shrieked, dropping her bags, as she was pulled sideways and down.

A large hand covered her mouth. “Shh! I’ll protect you, princess. Just remain quiet and let me deal with them.”

She tried to look at the man behind the husky voice but when she turned her head her face saw only the inside of her fur-lined hood. Deirdre tugged the hood away from her face just in time to see a firm, round buttock disappearing into the curtain of snow. More flashes sliced through the snow and the brief illumination showed Deirdre the large rock her invisible savior had shoved her behind.

A distant, muffled scream made Deirdre cringe. What would she do if her savior didn’t survive his rescue. And what the hell was she being rescued from anyway?

She listened carefully for another minute but heard nothing. Finally the now familiar sense of swirling air warned her that someone had joined her in her hiding spot. This time when she looked up it was into the jewel-green gaze of a man with shoulder length white hair and a sexy square jaw covered in stubble. “Who are you?”

He stood, bowing low before her. “Allain Darcassan Erendriel at your service, princess.”

She frowned. “How about if I just call you Al?”


Wednesday, December 19, 2012

THE BRIDE'S GAMBIT by Sandra Sookoo

THE BRIDE'S GAMBIT by Sandra Sookoo

A Scandal in Surrey Novel

Opportunity threw them together but circumstances might tear them apart.

She wants a dashing, courageous man…Vanessa Underhill is on the run from her fifth would-be groom. She doesn't care for any of the men her father has picked--none engaged her mentally or physically. Hunger for a man who will stir her imagination fires her virginal fantasies.

He wants understanding… When he's bored with his role as Viscount Blackpool, Collin Northington becomes a highwayman to gain anonymity and solace. With his face scarred fulfilling his military duty in India, he hides behind the brigand mask and persona. What he really desires is a woman who will look beyond outward appearances and take a chance.

If only for one night… In lieu of payment, Collin kidnaps Vanessa from the northern-bound stage. The more time they spend together—and in each other's arms—the more they find they have in common beyond heated desire. When Collin delivers an impromptu marriage proposal, Vanessa unmasks more than his scarred face, but will his true identity and her penchant for fleeing grooms ruin what could very well be love?



Vanessa refused to glance—or even hold conversation with—the young couple in the coach with her. Why should she when, again, she’d embroiled herself in yet another scandal, traveling without a companion.  Well, it cannot be helped, and I don’t much care besides.

Instead, she kept her gaze focused out the window at her right, and had been doing so since the coach started off not long after she fled the church. What else could she have done? She’d been more or less imprisoned in the vehicle for three hours, with no money and no luggage, but at least she wasn’t wed to a man she didn’t love or respect. She’d had just enough money in her reticule for a stage ticket to London and perhaps lodging at a posting inn midway through the journey. What she’d do once they arrived in London, she had no idea, but that wasn’t her immediate concern. Something would come about to settle her. It always did.

Settling against the worn squabbed bench, she rested her head against the wall and closed her eyes. Perhaps if she feigned sleep, the exuberant chatting between the young couple—newly married apparently—would cease. She stifled a sigh. Not that she begrudged them their happiness. The two were obviously in love if their significant glances and constant hand-holding were an indication. What she did resent was their blissful attitude. It mocked her, reminded her that she couldn’t go through a nuptial ceremony or do her parents proud.

Perhaps next time she should really make an effort to like the groom. A tear slid down her cheek. The sad fact was there wouldn’t be a next time. Papa had all but told her Mr. Abernathy was his last hope as all the other, more respectable bachelors were leery of her reputation now.

Her chin wobbled. Her married life was over before it could begin. The carriage jerked to a halt. Vanessa popped her eyes open and braced herself against the seat to keep from toppling to the floor. "Why are we stopping?" It was too early in the evening to consider taking a light supper, not that the coachman had said they would, and they wouldn’t gain the posting inn for another three hours yet.
She removed the strings of her reticule from her wrist and laid it on the seat beside her.  Not that I have enough coin to pay for supper in addition to a room. She fingered the crushed velvet and stifled a sigh. Useless frippery, much like me.

"I have no idea." The young gentleman’s tone was decidedly clipped, as if the driver had purposefully inconvenienced him. "However, I will inquire if it will set your mind at ease and prevent female hysterics."

Vanessa and the younger woman exchanged looks. "Pardon me for wondering." Silently, she wished the woman luck with her husband’s personality. "That would be lovely, thank you."

Her stomach clenched. What if someone had witnessed her entering the coach at the station? What if Papa had dispatched a rider to retrieve her? She plucked at the edge of a glove. Would she go back? She set her chin. I won’t. I cannot.

No sooner had the gentleman stood and pushed open the door than a gruff order rang through the silence of the evening. "Stand and deliver. Throw your valuables into the road, and no one will be hurt."

A chill raced down Vanessa’s spine. "Good Lord, a highwayman!" She leaned into the aisle, straining to see around the man but the tails of his coat and his arms blocked her view. She’d heard stories of mounted brigands in the area between Surrey and London but had never known anyone who’d been accosted by the thieves. Her heartbeat quickened. How lovely to have an adventure after such a disappointing day. "Should we do what he asks?"

A shadow filled the doorway. The rogue rapped gloved knuckles on the frame. "If you value your life, I would." The bandit slammed the door against the side of the carriage. "On second thought, everyone out. I’ll inspect you myself to move this along. I rarely trust a person’s word."

His smooth, smoky request caused her heart to palpitate. Why couldn’t her father ever pick this sort of commanding man to meet her at the altar?

The younger woman whimpered and shrank against her seat. "Henry, do something."

The husband stood immobile. "What would you have me do? I have no pistol."

Vanessa huffed at the general lack of bravery in today’s men. She sidled closer to the door—and the robber—while her curiosity ran amok. The brigand ordered them out again, and she sighed. Finally, a bit of excitement in Surrey, and it was here, staring her in the face. What better way to lift her mood and distract her from the dismal reality of her own life? She cleared her throat and put any scattered thoughts of potential danger from her mind. "Excuse me, sir, but have you a weapon? If so, perhaps showing it would persuade my travel companions to move more quickly."

"I beg your pardon?" His question rang with incredulity.

She stifled the urge to shiver with pleasure. Did the highwayman’s voice affect the other woman in the same manner? Vanessa slid a glance to the other woman. No, she still cowered against the seat. Is it the thrill of being robbed that plays havoc with my insides?

"While I dearly want to follow your order, I cannot access the doorway until this gentleman moves, and obviously, he’s not prepossessed of any sort of gumption to do so without incentive." She only wanted out of the vehicle so she could get a look at the ruffian. Did his physical appearance match the authority in his voice? Her face heated.

A rich chuckle came from the highwayman. "I do indeed possess a pistol as well as a dagger. If need be, I throw a tight right hook." He stuck his head into the coach, but the gathering twilight as well as his mask and a worn, low-crowned hat hid his face from view. "Which of you spoke?"

The words echoed with culture not in keeping with the picture she’d envisioned from such a criminal. What sort of man chose thievery as a profession? What drove him to such desperation? Vanessa waved a hand. "I did, but if you’re hoping to gain valuable trinkets from me, I’m afraid I have none. I… I left rather suddenly." She cursed her lack of preparedness as she traced her pitifully thin reticule on the seat.

"That is quite all right. There are other things of value you might possess. Fortunately, I know exactly how to make such an assessment."

What did he mean? What secret wealth could she possess? Surely she had nothing of value a highwayman could want. Flutters tickled her belly. No man of her acquaintance had provoked such a reaction, so why now, did an unknown one, and a criminal at that, make her want to discover his secrets and hers?

He jutted a strong chin toward the man who still stood in the aisle. "This is your lucky day, sir. I’m letting you and your ladybird go without molestation."

The man reclaimed the seat next to his wife. "What of her?" He pointed to Vanessa.

She shot him a glare, though she doubted he saw it, and her estimation of men sank another notch. Whatever happened to standing up for a woman’s honor on principle?

"That is not for you to know, but if I were you, I’d thank her until your dying day that I spared your life." The highwayman extended a hand. "Let me help you out, miss."

The next moments ticked by in pregnant silence. She could remain inside and stay safe for a while, or she could go outside into unknown danger and ruin. This washer choice, a step onto a new path. A slow smile parted her lips. It was time to live for herself, to discover who she was outside of her parents’ wishes and home, and damn the consequences. If Papa couldn’t choose a decent man for her, and she’d already proclaimed most dim-witted and uninteresting, maybe she needed an indecent one. She suspected the highwayman could do nicely.

"Thank you, sir." She slipped her hand into his. The instant his gloved fingers closed around hers, warmth slid upward to her elbow. Heat continued to bloom when she moved to the door and he placed his hands on her waist before lifting her out. For one breath-stealing moment, she was crushed against the hard wall of his chest. "Oh my." She slid her hands over the wide breadth of his shoulders and past a scarlet waistcoat decorated with black embroidery then her feet found purchase on the road and he released her.

The highwayman secured the door to the carriage. He strode, with a slight limp, to the driver. Not once did he look back at her. In black breeches that hugged every lean line of his thighs and calves and a billowing white shirt, he appeared the consummate mystery villain—and a man who would haunt her womanly dreams. He tossed the coachman a coin and touched the brim of his black hat. "Be sure you take those two straight on to your destination. Don’t return until they disembark, and tell no one what transpired on this road."

"As you wish, gov’ner." The driver flicked a glance at Vanessa then just as quickly snapped it back to the road. He slapped leather reins against the horses’ backs and the coach rumbled into motion. A cloud of dust trailed behind it, leaving her with the rogue.


Tuesday, December 18, 2012



Snowbound Series #13

It's the day before Christmas Eve and the second big snowstorm of the year is rolling into Detroit. Huge fluffy flakes are already falling as Jo runs to the supermarket to grab some much needed supplies--eggnog, cookies, ice cream--emergency rations for the holiday season. The only thing she's lacking is someone to enjoy them with.
Then she sees A.J., the hot guy who almost picked her up at a party last Halloween. He's a tall, muscular, blue-eyed blond, with a smile that warmed Jo right down to her toes and he's just as determined as she is to snag that last bottle of eggnog off the shelves.
Should Jo be selfish and keep the drink all to herself, or let A.J. convince her to share some Snowbound Christmas Cheer?



Jo grabbed up a rectangular carrying basket and began weaving her way through the crowd. She found a seasonal tin of the thin white cookies with the sugar coating and stuck it in her basket with a guilty look to either side. As an oral hygienist she knew the dangers of sugar but it was also one of her biggest vices. And what was the use of a holiday like Christmas if you couldn’t let down your hair a little and indulge your vices?

As she made her way to the dairy section, she added large bags of M&Ms and Hershey kisses to her basket. She passed on the little box of mints but snagged the little container of brightly colored hard candy. Then forced herself to hurry on out of the aisle, past the meat and into the dairy section.

The eggnog was almost all gone!

Darting forward Jo snatched up the very last half-gallon container—or at least she tried to. The container didn’t find its way into her basket because some white guy had grabbed it at exactly the same time as she had. There was no way she was going to let him have it!

“Excuse me,” she said, keeping her voice prim, proper and completely uncompromising. “This is my bottle of eggnog.”

“How do you figure—Jo?”

For the first time, Jo looked up from the place where their hands were almost touching on the carton of eggnog to look at the man’s face. He was handsome with blond hair and blue eyes and she was certain she’d never seen him before in her life.

“Jo? It’s A.J.,” the man said. “You remember? I was dressed as Elvis. We met at The Church Key on Halloween. Remember?”

“A.J.?” Jo repeated. The transformation in the man was astounding! Halloween night he’d had jet black hair and while she’d known he had to have dyed it—brunettes do not have blue eyes—she couldn’t believe how different he looked. She’d thought he’d been handsome before, but now?


Monday, December 17, 2012



When Greek billionaire Dimitri Petronides is forced to give up Xandra Fortune, his beautiful mistress, he's certain she won't be too distraught. For all the intense passion they've shared she's never let him into her heart, and such a commitment-shy woman could never be his wife...

But after their split, Dimitri discovers that Xandra Fortune is not who he thought she was - and she is also pregnant with his child. Now he has to track her down and claim his mistress as his wife!


Alexandra nervously smoothed the kerchief style silk halter-top over the non-existent bump where her baby rested under her heart.

The unaccustomed warmth of late spring had allowed her to wear the sexy outfit to boost her flagging morale. She turned to the side and surveyed herself in the full-length mirror in her bedroom. Her willowy body encased in the champagne silk hip-hugging pants and sexy halter looked no different than it had when Dimitri had left for Greece.

The week old knowledge that she was pregnant with his child might show in her wary hazel eyes, tinted sultry green by colored contacts, but it had not yet affected the shape of her body. She adjusted the gold chain belt resting low on her hips and the multiple thin bangles she wore on her wrist tinkled like small bells as they clinked together. Then in a nervous gesture, she pulled another curling strand of her hair down to frame the soft angles of her face.

Permed and professionally bleached so many shades, it looked like rippling sunlight when she let it down, her hair was a Xandra trademark. Only right now, she didn’t feel like Xandra Fortune, popular model and lover to Greek Tycoon, Dimitrius Petronides. She felt like Alexandra Dupree, daughter of an old New Orleans family, convent educated and shocked to be unmarried and pregnant with her lover’s child.

"You look beautiful, pethi mou."

Alexandra spun away from the mirror. Dimitri stood in the door, masculine appreciation burning in his startling blue eyes. For a moment she forgot her condition. Forgot the many truths she needed to tell him. Forgot her fears. Forgot everything but how much she had missed this man over the past three weeks.

She flew across the room and threw herself against his chest. "Mon cher, I have counted the minutes since you left!"

Strong arms locked around her in an almost convulsive movement while his body remained strangely stiff. "It has only been a month and you have been busy with work. You cannot have missed me that much."

His words reminded her how he had resented her refusal to quit modeling when they had become lovers, but she had not wanted to be any man’s kept mistress. Nor had she had the option of quitting her job. She needed the money she made to support the family he knew nothing about.

"You are wrong. Nothing can keep me so occupied I do not notice your absence. A day. A week. A month. I grieve them all." She grimaced inwardly at her blatant vulnerability. Where had her sophisticated cool gone, the career model fa├žade that had initially drawn Dimitri to her?

The first crack had appeared when he’d told her he was going to be in Greece longer than anticipated and she’d cried. After two-and-a-half weeks of morning sickness, a positive pregnancy test and her mother’s horrified reaction to the news, the Xandra Fortune persona was in definite risk of extinction.


Dimitri tried to hold onto his self-control, not an easy thing around Xandra. And this was Xandra as he’d never seen her. Clingy. Almost vulnerable, but he knew that could not be true. They had become lovers a year ago and although she shared her body with a generosity that moved him, she kept her heart and parts of her life hidden from him.

Their relationship was modern and free of long term commitment, something she’d made it clear by her actions she did not expect from him.

She pressed her body to his in blatant invitation and he laughed. "You mean you have grieved my absence from your bed, do you not?"

That was the only place he was convinced she need him. She wouldn’t let him support her, making it obvious she would rather spend time away from him than give up any part of her career. None of this, however, made it easier to say what needed to be said. In fact, he was sure it would be harder for him to say the words than for her to hear them. His sophisticated lover would not appreciate an drawn out, or emotional good-bye any more than he would.

She shook her head, stretching up to link her hands behind his neck and brushed the hair at his nape. "I missed you, Dimitri. There was no joy in cooking for myself alone, no pleasure in watching the French Open without you to mutter when your favorite double-faulted on game point."

He frowned, remembering the play. She smiled at him with a look that spelled his doom if he didn’t get his news out quickly. It had already wrought an instant response in his body. "I have news I must tell you."

Her arms went stiff in reaction to the seriousness of his tone. "Can it not wait, mon cher?"

He reached behind his neck to remove her hands, but she locked her fingers with surprising force.

He clasped her wrists. "We must talk now."


Alexandra did not want to talk. She was not ready to share her news. He’d seduced her from the beginning. She’d given him her heart, her body and her fidelity, as committed to him as any wife could be. Only she wasn’t his wife and she didn’t know how he’d respond to his lover getting pregnant.

Fear more than desire prompted her hips to grind against him. "No." She kissed his chin, tasting the skin and letting her body absorb the return of its other half. "No talk." She brushed her unfettered breasts behind her thin top back and forth across the crisp white silk of his shirt. "First, this."

"Xandra, no." He pulled her hands away from his neck, but made the mistake of letting them go.

She tunneled under his jacket and pushed it off his shoulders. "Dimitri, yes."

He glared at her, but he did not stop her from pushing his suit coat to a pile of expensive Italian designer fabric on the floor. She smiled in approval. "I want you, Dimitri. We can talk later."

She needed the affirmation that they were two halves of the same whole before she could tell him the truth about the baby she carried and equally as terrifying, the truth about who and what she was.

He grabbed her round the waist and lifted her until her mouth was even with his own. "Heaven help me, I want you too."

There was something about the angry tone in his voice she did not understand, but she could not focus on it for long, not with his warm lips closing over her own in overwhelming passion.

She tore at his tie while he made quick work of the two hooks holding her top together. He helped her with the buttons on his shirt. The two garments fell to the thick pile carpet together and his lips never separated from hers. He pulled her flush against his body and the naked flesh of her already aroused nipples brushed the heat of his muscular chest.

She shivered in reaction while he groaned.

"We should not be doing this."

The words registered only subliminally, planting a question as to why they should be said, but she could not consciously respond to them. She was too overwhelmed by the feel of his flesh against her own for the first time in over a month. He seemed similarly affected as his arms tightened around her until she could barely take a breath.

Seconds later they lay entwined on the bed, the rest of their clothes discarded, hungry hands touching intimate places, mouths devouring one another. They climbed to the heights together with a speed they never had before. When they tumbled into starbursts and oblivion, masculine shouts mingled with her own cries of pleasure.


Sunday, December 16, 2012

TWO MEN AND A VIRGIN by Kate Richards

TWO MEN AND A VIRGIN by Kate Richards

A 1Night Stand Story

Andie’s first trip to the 49th state is not just for sightseeing. She’s emptied her bank account to bring the two men of her dreams to Castillo Lodge, in Castle, Alaska for a Christmas Eve date of a lifetime. Only…they don’t know their date is also their best friend from back home.

Paul and Rex were delighted to “win” a date from Madame Eve, although they were surprised to find there had been a contest. Still, they plan to make the most of their time away, skiing, dogsledding…romancing a mysterious woman who is looking for two sexy guys for a night of over-the-top passion. A stranger with whom they can be themselves, and not have to hide their secret.



Rex stumbled until the armchair hit the back of his knees and he dropped into it. “Andie?”

Paul scrambled to his feet. “How did you get here? Are you here for the holidays, too? Do you—oh no, you didn’t win a date, too, did you?”

She looked back and forth between them, tension in her jaw he’d never seen before. “No, I didn’t.” Tucking her legs up onto the ledge, she wrapped her arms around them and rested her chin on her knees. She muttered something.

“What?” Paul loomed over her like an interrogator. “I couldn’t hear you.”

“I said—” She dropped her stockinged feet to the floor and rose to her full height of five foot two. “I am your date. Both of yours.” Her helpful clarification sent Rex’s heart into the pit of his stomach in shock.

He moved closer. “What are you talking about? Do your folks know where you are?”

“I’m not a child, Rex, of course they don’t know where I am. But I did tell them I had plans for the holidays.” She brought her gaze up to his, and he fought not to smile at her set jaw or her hands fisted on her hips.

“This is impossible…a mistake.”

“I’m sorry you feel that way.” Her defiant stare belied the tremor in her voice, and he longed to comfort her, but was too stunned to behave like a normal person. “I thought we could spend a nice Christmas Eve together, the three of us, but I guess I can see if they have a room in the lodge available.” She reached for her boots.

“Don’t be silly.” His mind raced, trying to assimilate her presence and determine the right way to respond. “You just surprised us.”


Saturday, December 15, 2012



Two people celebrating Christmas in Key Largo are surprised by the sudden appearance of a former lover. What could possibly go wrong?

When Tom McCoy fled to The Florida Keys a year ago to get over a bad break-up, he never dreamed he’d meet beautiful Brooke Devlin, who was recovering from her own romantic mishap. They’ve returned to celebrate a magical year together—but when a former lover unexpectedly appears, there’s trouble in paradise.

Will Tom and Brooke get around this unwanted intrusion and have a happy holiday? What other surprises will they find under the Christmas tree?



Brooke entered the room, wearing a large t-shirt that barely covered her butt. “Everything all right? You look tense.”

Tom put on the most relaxed air he could muster. “Everything’s fine.”

She slinked toward him then rested her hands on his shoulders. “I’m dressed down for the night but you’re way behind me.”

He caressed her shoulder. “Guess I should do something about that, huh?”

She kissed him. “Only if you want to show me how much you enjoy my company.”

Tom led her to the bedroom, pulled her close then kissed her deeply, exploring her mouth with his tongue. Brooke returned his heat by devouring his mouth while unbuttoning his shirt. Tom slipped his hand under her t-shirt to rub her back, then gently caressed her butt. Brooke slipped his shirt over his shoulders, then moved a hand to his groin, fondling him through his pants.

Tom quickly stripped off his clothes while Brooke pulled her shirt over her head. They reclined on the turned-down bed and resumed their kissing. Tom let his hand roam over her torso, rubbing her breasts then slipping between her legs to run his finger along her wet slit. Her scent was a libido-boosting blend of Giorgio Red and personal arousal. Tom’s **** hardened when Brooke stroked it.

Brooke rolled him onto his back, slithered down his body, then took his hard-on in her mouth, lovingly sucking and stroking him. Tom closed his eyes and moaned softly as Brooke moved her mouth up and down, causing him to swell. She teasingly ran her tongue around his swollen head, then swallowed his entire length again.

He pulled her leg toward him. Brooke changed her position to straddle him while keeping him captive in her mouth. She lowered her ***** to his mouth. Tom opened her with his fingers and began licking her. Her musky arousal added to his own lust as he flicked his tongue over her, lapping up her juices. Brooke sucked him with more fervor when Tom sucked her hard clit between his lips. He massaged it with his lips and tongue, feeling it swell until Brooke took in a rush of air and emitted a muffled cry of pleasure. After she came, Tom licked her again, sucking out her climax.


Friday, December 14, 2012



Hot, hungry and horny, Jim’s looking for a night of scorching no-name sex.

Desperate to feel alive, Julia’s on the prowl for a hot, hard body before the Marine Corps sends her back to war.

Who knew a one-night stand could be more than either of them ever hoped for? Or that they’d have such little time to enjoy it?

Sometimes a person has to take a chance. Do something a little crazy. Live like there’s no tomorrow.



“I need a name.” He had to have one. It drove him crazier by the second that she wouldn’t share it with him.

“For a drive-by, one-night stand? That was your intent, right?”

“Well…yeah. But I…” He couldn’t explain why it mattered. Hell, he didn’t know why it mattered. It just did. And what if she was a Marine? What about her rank? The whole fraternization thing? Fuck, he was going down for one rule-breaker after the other. But then, if she suspected he was a gunnery sergeant, she’d be on the watch for fraternization too. Maybe they were the same rank, or close, or…

“What are you calling me in your head?” Another naughty grin jerked his rambling thoughts to a halt. “Be nice now.”

“Little Red. Red.”

“Cute. Not very original, but it’ll do.” She took another bite.

And calling him Gunny was original? Subject closed. He let her win this round. The night was young and he was still horny. Getting hornier by the second.

Jim played out intelligent conversations in his head while they finished his burger then divvied up hers. Nothing scholarly came to mind. He was left with the basics.

Jim leaned back, one arm on the bench seat behind her, the other clutching the beer, ready to play twenty questions. One sip of his drink stopped him cold. He just couldn’t do it. He pushed the brew away, signaled the waitress, and ordered what he really wanted—wine.

“Make it two, please.”Red pushed her drink away too. “This lemonade isn’t working for me. And these drinks will be on me.” She scooted into the curve of his body. “That’s one pretense out of the way.”

“Speaking of which…”

She pressed her index finger against his lips. “No names, Gunny.”

It bugged the hell out of him. “All right.” For now.“Occupation?”


“Come on, Red. Gimme something.”

She tickled her fingers down to his navel. “I’d hoped to give you a lot tonight.”

“You know me? Been here before? Have we met?”

Her laughter felt like spring, all bright and warm after a long, hard winter. “No…to all of the above.
This in my first time in here. And no, I’m not new in town.”

“So why tonight, here, me?”

“Goodness, so many questions.” She thanked the waitress for their wine, grabbed both glasses, and handed him one. “I came in here to meet a heartbroken girlfriend. She bailed. I was getting ready to leave and saw you looking all…needful. How could I possibly resist? Plus, I didn’t think a decent-looking guy like you deserved to get tangled up with any of this.” She waved her hand toward the other females in the bar.

“You do this often?” Now that was a nasty question, and Jim regretted it the second the words left his mouth.

Judging from the startled look in her eyes, the question had hurt. Red should have kneed him in the balls and taken off. Instead, those green eyes softened, settled on him…in him. “No. Never.
Sometimes a person has to take a chance. Do something a little crazy. I needed. You needed. Good?”

Jim had thought so at first. “Yeah…good.”

Red rested her hot palm on his thigh and cuddled in close. “I like dogs, gardening and hiking. I’m a nerd and proud of it. Your turn.”

“Friends call me Rod.”

That brought snickers and a Spock-like lift of her eyebrow.

“Short for Roderick, my last name. First name’s Jim.”

“Preferences?” She sipped her wine. His eyes locked on to how her lips glistened afterward.

Jim honestly didn’t give a damn what friends called him. The nickname had also morphed into his work life, making him Gunny Rod. But from a woman he wanted more. He needed intimacy, especially from this woman.

He laughed to himself at the irony of it all. He’d come for a hook-up and here he was assigning more to it, needing more from it.

“Jim. As long as you don’t add any Star Trek reference to it.” Though he wouldn’t mind if she did.
“Jim.” She kissed him, soft and sweet. No tongue, just lips pulling at his. Tempting, not teasing. A nibble, a pull. As if he were somebody more than a desert-dried Marine who hadn’t been laid in six months.


DECORATING SPIRIT by Zenobia Renquist

DECORATING SPIRIT by Zenobia Renquist

She's making sure Christmas comes more than once this year.

The Spirit of Christmas should be a joyous person who can spread happiness around the world. Spir is anything but. His mood is as dark as the black clothes he wears.

Danette is hired to change his clothing in hopes that his attitude will follow. Spir doesn’t want to cooperate. When she finally gets him out of his clothes, Danette discovers something harder than her job and much more enjoyable.


Santa's Helpers: Decorating Spirit
Zenobia Renquist
All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2012 Zenobia Renquist

This e-book file contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language which some may find offensive and which is not appropriate for a young audience. Changeling Press E-Books are for sale to adults, only, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase. Please store your files wisely, where they cannot be accessed by under-aged readers.

"Wow." Alex's awe-filled voice filtered past the dressing room door. She swung it open and exited like a model strutting down the runway. "This is gorgeous."

"See?" Danette shook her head. "All that fussing for nothing."

"Yes, yes. You were right. I was wrong. I bow to your expertise."

"You used to bow to my expertise before you went and got yourself married and pregnant. Now you think being away from me for a few months gives you the right to talk back. I know you, Alex, and I know your style. You used to trust me with stuff like this all the time."

Before becoming the bride of Santa Claus, Alex had been an exotic dancer, and Danette had been her manager. Danette had been in charge of everything from Alex's clothing to her music, sometimes even choreographing Alex's dance routines. They'd become best friends because Alex trusted Danette completely. "I still do."

"Then why are you giving me such a hard time about all this?"

Alex grinned and stuck out the tip of her tongue. "I love it when you get all stern and stuff."

"You're a closet masochist."

The woman shrugged before she started twirling so her skirt billowed around her.

Danette stepped close to Alex and said in a low voice, "I made sure the skirt was made of enough wrinkle-resistant material so it could be bunched up for easy access."

"I love you, Danette. You know me so well."

Noel cleared his throat. From the light blush dusting his cheeks, Danette guessed he'd heard her. Her gaze went to his pointed ears. They resembled normal ears in size and length but with a little point at the top. The size and shape of the ears was a distinguishing feature between elves, which Noel was, and fey like Kris. Danette had been told there were others, but that was the easiest to identify.

He said, "I shall inform sire of the good news." He bowed and then left the room.

Alex scrunched her nose in his direction. "Such a prude, that one."

"He's fine. You're the one who's got no morals."

"I'm also the one who made the Aurora Borealis outshine the stars."

"Yes, you did. Meteorologists around the world are still freaking out about it. If you and Kris could have sex on a regular schedule, that might lessen the panic in the human population."

"Regular and sex should never be in the same sentence. Sex should be spontaneous and hot, just the way Kris and I like it."

"Why do I get the feeling that's the way you like it, and Kris is just following your bad example?"

"Naughty example. Get it right."

"Kris is right. You are going to be chronicled as the worst Mrs. Claus ever."

"I don't care what everyone else thinks. Kris loves me, and the way I am gets results. Speaking of results, how's it going with your other problem child?"

"Oh, don't even ask about him."

Alex referred to the other reason Kris had hired Danette. Kris's identical twin brother Spir, who was also known as the Spirit of Christmas. Spir and Kris were identical in every single way except for their hair. Spir's was black and waist length. The black clothing Spir swathed himself in was the reason he was Danette's second project. Kris hoped Danette could convince his brother to wear clothing more fitting his station, hoping a color change might somehow improve Spir's mood.

Danette doubted changing his color scheme would change him. Kris and Spir were day and night, physically and mentally. Kris smiled easily and had a good humor about everything, even his wife's antics. Spir prowled around the winter palace snapping at everyone and cussing up a storm. Danette never had trouble finding him. She just followed the sounds of horrified gasps and fleeing women.

She didn't know how other Spirits of Christmas had acted, but Danette was sure Spir would be remembered as the worst. How someone with his attitude could bring good cheer and brotherly love to anyone was a mystery to her. But then, this would be his first year on the job. His uncle, black-haired identical twin to Kris and Spir's father, had held the job prior.

That was how the House of Kringle worked. When twins were born, and they weren't born often, their hair color decided who donned the mantle of Santa Claus and who became the Spirit of Christmas. Danette didn't find that fair, and Spir's attitude denoted he didn't either.

But she'd been hired to do a job. She would do it even if Spir avoided her and yelled at her on the few occasions when she managed to corner him. They were at a stalemate, but she had a trap planned today. Christmas was a few days away. Even if a change of clothing didn't help Spir's attitude, Danette wanted to know she had tried.


Thursday, December 13, 2012

HOT RIVALS by Cheryl Dragon

HOT RIVALS by Cheryl Dragon

Jay and Robbie both bare their bodies at the most popular strip club in Vegas.

Pleasing the customer is their main job. However, Jay isn’t going to let the new guy knock him out of the top spot without playing dirty.

Dating another stripper is asking for trouble, but in the end Jay finds himself being seduced by the sexiest cowboy in Vegas!


Jay Belfer watched his main competition from the corner of his eye. Robbie Sloan was fairly new to the Big D’s strip club. Sexy and friendly, Robbie made it easy to like him. The clients went wild for that cowboy charm. Jay worked hard not to get too close but kept an eye on the new meat. This was a job, and Jay had a lot invested in Big D’s.

Everyone knew the “D” stood for Dicks but the owner insisted it stood for her last name, D’Agostino. She loved well-hung men performing in her club, which was actually two strip clubs sharing one big building. One side for male patrons, the other for female.

The men’s half of the club featured all-the-way performances on stage. All the men—at least those working on the men’s side tonight—stripped down to nothing. On the other side of the building, another group of guys were doing the exact same thing for a screaming crowd of horny women. Jay never got tired of the rush of being on stage, no matter who he entertained.

In this crowd of gay men, he easily spotted the owner, Bev, watching Robbie shake his ass for the crowd. A professional stripper seven years now, Jay kept his eyes on the crowd and connected with the customers. He was still the top draw—for now.

The new guy, Robbie, was hard to resist and two years younger at twenty-five. He was tan with short brown hair and dark brown eyes. The guy came from a rodeo background so he was flexible and rugged, but rumors reported he had zero cash. Not unusual given the type of work he’d fallen into.

As the men’s pants came off, the crowd cheered. Jay gave them a little smile and saw a lot of regulars out there. Down to gauzy briefs that were pretty much see-through, he let the thrill of the crowd and exhibition turn him on. Jay insisted to himself that it wasn’t Robbie’s tight ass or slightly hairy chest getting his dick up. No way!

Bev generally demanded meticulous manscaping, but Robbie’s chest hair wasn’t overly thick and laid flat against his muscled form. She said it gave him added sex appeal and matched his wild western image. Jay glanced over and saw Robbie’s cock growing. Bev liked men to show it all on stage. It set their club apart. One side for women, one for men, but all of the men went nude and got turned on!

Having to show their erection on stage sent many newbie and wannabe strippers running for the hills. Most new guys thought it’d be easy money on their first day, but Bev was tough on her dancers. Performing took practice and work. The group of men turned and ripped off their briefs. Jay looked at Robbie and cursed himself. With his back to the crowd, Jay admiring other men didn’t matter for the show, but he was really getting turned on. This wasn’t just his usual showing-off hard on today.

Turning, they strutted their stuff and fanned out on the stage to display their full potential. The crowd went wild and after a few minutes, the strippers all headed back to the dressing room. Nudity never bothered Jay, and it didn’t last long. He’d done worse things for money.

Dressing for their next rounds, Jay didn’t have to rush. He was in the last group as a featured dancer. Robbie had moved around the lineup and was growing in popularity. Of course, tonight, he grabbed the chair next to Jay.

“Great crowd.” Robbie closed his jeans then tugged on a long-sleeved shirt.

“They’re good.” Jay noticed Robbie’s cock was still firm in the jeans.

His own member wasn’t relaxing as fast as it normally did. Damn attraction. He always wanted the wrong men! Robbie wasn’t a bad guy, at least not that Jay had found out, but he was the main competition.

Robbie layered a vest and a worn leather jacket atop his shirt. When he bent over to tug on his cowboy boots, Jay forced himself not to imagine Robbie blowing Jay’s cock there in a room full of mostly naked men. No other stripper had turned Jay on so much without even making a pass at him.

“You okay? You looked lost,” Robbie said.

“Fine. Just some stuff on my mind. On stage, I can blank it out, but I don’t go on for a while.”

“I’m up now. See you later.” Robbie smiled wide and dashed for the stage.

Bev liked the contrast of going all nude at first then having men layer on the costumes and show off their individual appeal. The first dance with all the men let customers check them out. Whatever tips came in were split equally from that. From now until the finale, it was one to three guys on the stage performing.

Jay refused to get up and watch Robbie from backstage, no matter how much his cock twitched. Luckily, another dancer came over and sat next to Jay. Any distraction was welcome and Ken had been around Big D’s a lot longer.

“Hot guy. He’s got a crush on you,” Ken teased.

“He’s got a story.” Jay didn’t like competition, but no one could be on top forever. He’d unseated Ken as the top dog a few years back. Ken was blond with dark brown eyes and a swimmer’s body that made women drool. But at forty, he was a veteran. Women and men still loved him, but he wasn’t the new flavor anymore. Jay felt the tug of knowing he wasn’t new, either. Hopefully, he’d handle losing the top spot someday as well as Ken had. He hadn’t iced out Jay, and Ken certainly hadn’t given up.

“We’ve all got a story. I heard his family is in rodeo. They found out he liked dick and tossed him.” Ken adjusted his tie. His tuxedo costume was perfect for him. Classy, sassy, and let him show off his dancing skills at a slower tempo without screaming that he was the older guy here.

“There are gay rodeo riders. Tons of them. I’ve dated a few.” Jay had heard so many sob stories from new strippers that he’d turned a little jaded. Maybe he wanted to find fault with Robbie as an excuse to deny the attraction.

“I guess his family had money, and it was all wrapped up in their show or whatever. So he was out with nothing. He’s hot and can move, though. Bev can pick them.” Ken looked at Jay in the mirror. “You’re really not interested?”

“No, I’m not taking a new guy in and making it easy on him. As soon as he gets his footing, he’d dump me for someone else. Those types always want a nice guy to save them and then run off with a bad boy who’ll hurt them. I’m not into rebound relationships or dealing with someone else’s drama.” Jay didn’t have to spell it out for Ken. Some of the men in the profession were complete users and anyone would do. “Of course, he’s good, Bev doesn’t hire crap dancers.”

Jay made it through his rough years because Bev and one of his Aunt’s up in Reno had looked out for him. Bev had no reason to help thus she had his eternal loyalty and respect. A former Vegas showgirl who’d gone topless on stage and did all sorts of things in hotel rooms, Bev understood the tricks of survival and strength. Now pushing sixty, she helped young men without judging and used her experience to put on a show she swore would run forever!

“Don’t get bitter. You’re not even thirty. Romantics.” Ken chuckled.

“I’ve been called a lot of things, but that isn’t one of them.” Jay listened for the music. Shit! He suddenly realized he’d been waiting for Robbie to hustle his nearly naked body back here.

“You are. Sure, you hook up with guys. Date. But the second a relationship goes south or something bad happens, you bail. You want the perfect Happy Ending. Maybe this Robbie is the one?” Ken brushed off his jacket.

Chuckling, Jay ignored a tug of need in his gut. He wanted more than sex, but that wasn’t the world he lived in. “He’s the competition not the boyfriend. You should worry about finding yourself a man to settle down with. You’re old enough to have fathered some of these guys.”

“If I ever screwed a girl, may rattlesnakes strike my dick. Why would I want to settle down?” Ken stood and headed to the stage as the announcer took over.

Jay smiled but didn’t believe for a second Ken liked being alone. Neither of them had ever been with a woman, but it didn’t change the fact that age happened to everyone. In the end, no one really wanted to be alone. He wanted to see Ken find the right guy. It’d give Jay hope. Just then, Robbie strutted back, his tight g-string filled with money. All Jay saw were Robbie’s firm buns.


SOLDIER COME HOME by Jane Leopold Quinn

SOLDIER COME HOME by Jane Leopold Quinn

Army Ranger Jess Crofton doesn't plan on one last fling before his second deployment. He gets that and so much more with memories of a gorgeous Lorren Samples to carry with him into battle.

Lorren has her own fledgling career as a women's rights lawyer. She lives in the whirlwind that Jess creates in their one day together, not knowing until the moment he's leaving that he's an elite soldier. They promise to e-mail each other, but war intrudes on that plan.

Can a long deployment, a horrific Afghan mountain battle, and a wounded hero rekindle the passion he found on a hot Chicago summer's day? Will Lorren ignore their age difference and accept a new love in her life?



Lorren shivered in reaction to the change in temperature when they stepped outside the restaurant.

"You okay?" he asked.

"Ghah, I'd forgotten how hot and humid it was out here." She fanned her face with the flat of her hand. "The restaurant was so cold."

"I noticed."


"I could tell you were cold." He slipped his forefinger under the halter strap at her collarbone and lifted it.

She watched his finger, realizing that her popping nipples were quite visible under the thin material of her dress. "Oh."

"That's an amazing dress. The little checks look so homespun. Like one of my mom's old aprons."

"Well, thanks, I guess," she deadpanned.

"I wasn't finished," he said. "But the style is all sex."

She opened her mouth, closed it. "I just wore it because I knew it'd be hot today."

"Mm hum. Well, thank you! I applaud your decision." He bowed formally and clicked his heels.

She heated up. Inside and out. He was the sexiest man she'd met in a long time. Maybe in forever. Something had to be wrong with him. He hadn't burped, but maybe he farted regularly. Loudly and smellily. She chuckled to herself, doubting that smellily was even a word. But so far he hadn't done it. Maybe during sex. The laugh bubbled up and exploded out before she could stop it.

"What's so funny?"

"Oh, nothing. I'm just enjoying myself." There was no way she wanted him to know what she'd been imagining.

"That's good. I always aim to please." He jauntily tapped the bill of his cap in acknowledgement.

They strolled up the esplanade alongside the Pier. "And do you? Please, that is?" He sure was a pleasure to look at. That absolutely masculine face, shaded by the bill of the ball cap, topping a navy blue linen shirt and khakis drove her mad. He wasn't wearing cowboy boots or his Stetson, just brown tie, soft-soled shoes and the ball cap, but he was casual and elegant and sexy hot. Like a model. A masculine model, not one of those gay looking ones.

"I think I do," he answered modestly. His arm tightened around her waist.

Oh, he has to fart big time, she mused as she shrugged him off. Capering ahead, she pranced backward facing him and announced playfully. "You're too much. I think I need to take a deep breath. I'd tell you that you're too sexy for your shirt, but you'd get a big head."

He grabbed her hands and pulled her toward him. "Well, something big anyway."

"Oh nuts, I fell right into that, didn't I?" She chuckled.

"Yeah, I'd say you did." They reached the end of the pier, and he steered her over to the railing. "Are you going to let me kiss your sweet chocolate mouth any time soon? Don't you think I redeemed myself for being late?" He crowded her, his hands on the railing on either side of her blocking her in and nuzzled the tip of her nose with his chin.

Laughing again with lighthearted joy, she leaned back, shook her head, and let the breeze wild up her already unmanageable hair. The sun, the snap of the flags above them—it was glorious. Taking a deep breath, closing her eyes, she said, "Isn't this a magnificent day?"

He placed both palms on her cheeks and positioned her face.

"It's not..." She didn't get to finish her sentence. The next thing she knew, he was kissing her. This time his tongue didn't just spear, it attacked. It hadn't before. He'd been a gentleman. He wasn't now. His mouth opened wide, surrounding her lips, taking them. He drove her to the edge with that thick, hot, wet tongue and overwhelming senses already ratcheted up all afternoon.

He released her lips. Crap.

But no, they weren't finished. He re-angled his head and started in again stroking, thrusting his tongue in and out until all she could think about was how he'd do it with his cock. With a cry, high-pitched and delirious, she clenched her fingers in the shirt at his back and pressed, holding him as firmly as he was holding her. Every inch of their body fronts embraced, locked together as they were, thigh to thigh, bellies and chests fused to the other.

She moaned into his mouth as her breasts flattened against his hard chest, their ache not assuaged one bit. They wanted more.

His belt buckle molded a space at her belly, and it wasn't the only hard thing prodding her. Oh, my Lord, the length of his penis, the round shape of it pressed against her pussy. She rolled her hips, his answering groan heartening, arousing. She flexed her fingers open, dug her nails...

Shrieks filled the air. They both jerked apart, but didn't separate completely, still enfolded in each other's arms. What in hell was that commotion about? She peeked around. About a million kids swarmed the plaza, running to the railing, laughing, screaming about who got there first. Holy crap. They'd been putting on a live sex show for a bunch of grade school kids. She ducked her head to his chest, rolling her forehead back and forth, felt him shaking with laughter.

"Well." His hot breath wafted over her ear and neck. "I guess this is our cue to move on."

She looked up into his eyes. His lovely, sexy eyes. That's when it hit her. She hadn't felt like this in such a long time. This sweet, fulfilling, sensuously romantic awareness. The exciting spark with a handsome man that you didn't know where it would lead but knew it would be an outstanding experience. She smiled. And was rewarded with an answering grin. They were on the same page.

As if both tacitly agreeing to spend the rest of the afternoon in teasing foreplay instead of rushing off to bed, they wandered hand in hand back along the pier. They alternated between exhibits inside in the air conditioned building and enjoying jugglers and mimes and just plain, ordinary people watching outside in the sun. They availed themselves of soft drinks and ice cream, whatever looked good.

"What kind of law do you intend to practice?" he asked.

"I plan to do advocacy law for at-risk women and children."

"Wow, that's impressive."

"Well, it's kind of a personal thing with me." She pursed her lips in pained irritation. "My sister and niece were in trouble. The police and social services were useless. If you don't have family, you don't have anyone to help you. I intend to change the system." She gazed off into the distance. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to get on my soapbox."

"Hey." He slipped his arm around her shoulders and hugged her companionably. "I understand. If there's a way to make the system better, you can do it."

She wrapped her arms around his waist and rested her cheek on his chest. It felt good to be there. Comfortable. She took a deep breath, felt her breasts swell against his chest. He tightened his hug, and then pressed her head to his shoulder in a heart-warming gesture.


Even though he held her in his arms to comfort her, the fact she was in his arms didn't escape him. Burying his nose in her hair, he savored her ripe, soft body, feeling every inch of her torso through the thin material of her dress. He liked her even more knowing that she was going to be a good kind of lawyer. Someone to be proud of. They stood like that for several long moments.

Finally, she straightened her shoulders and gazed up at him. "Sorry, I didn't mean to depress you."

"I'm fine. How can I make you feel better," he asked, a teasing twinkle in his eyes. He'd had just about all the ice cream and Sno Cones he could handle. If he had to watch her lick and suck for one more minute, he was going to burst. And it wouldn't be pretty. It'd be messy, too. He needed to get her licking and sucking on something important. Like his cock.

"You are," she said noncommittally. "I'm fine now. Thank you."

"You're welcome." He gave her a quick buss on the top of her head. As much as he was enjoying their playtime out in public, he wanted her tucked away in his suite, on her back—or hands and knees—now! The hot, shimmering daytime had faded to dusk, and now, darkness edged in little twinkling lights cocooned them. Without discussion, they'd ambled with the crowd back to the end of the pier to watch fireworks. He leaned against the brick wall outside the Grand Ballroom and stationed her in front of him, her lovely, firm backside snuggled against his dick. All eyes turned toward the sky, and no one noticed the two of them hidden in the shadows.

He laced his fingers across her flat stomach and, with his thumbs, purposefully traced the elastic line of her panties stretched well below her belly button. That's my girl. Sexy dress, sexy panties. She wrapped her hands tightly around his wrists. Her stomach trembled in and out with nervous, rapid breaths. That she responded so easily to him was a huge turn on.

He hadn't told her that he'd be gone soon or that he didn't know for how long. He wanted her but had no right to seek a deeper connection than a one-night stand. He wished things could be different, but they weren't. Leaning closer, he nudged her hair back with his chin, nibbled kisses along her shoulder and up her neck to her ear. He felt her every gasp reverberate through his body and loved that her reactions to him were so powerful. He'd played nice all afternoon, acting the perfect gentleman when all he really wanted to do was slide his aching cock inside her hot, tight pussy. Time to see if she felt the same way.

Holding firmly with one splayed hand over her belly, he slid the other one down, around her hip to palm her ass cheek through the thin material of her dress. He felt her stomach jerk but couldn't hear if she moaned because fireworks had started exploding in the air above them. Slipping his hand further down, he trailed under the skirt to touch skin. Bare flesh. Her soft thigh. Curving around it, he brushed a thumb over the silk covering her pussy. Her nails dug into the hand on her belly, but it wasn't sending him a message to stop.

His thumb caressed over and over, lured to spread and play with puffy lips, until she squirmed and pumped her hips backward into his cock. Wiggling his fingers under the elastic, he came face-to-face, so to speak, with her pubic hair. Face-to-pussy would come later tonight.



Related Posts Plugin for WordPress, Blogger...