Wednesday, March 24, 2010
Thursday, February 04, 2010
Sharing an excerpt from a fellow erotic writer.
Anita Philmar's
Banished Scoundrel
Known scoundrel Jack Avery must earn the queen's forgiveness by rescuing her missing daughter from the human world. His sources reveal the Princess Noelani is being held by a powerful man who likes a good game of chance. So with twenty borrowed pieces of gold Jack enters the high-stakes game. Only the lady he encounters is no princess. This pretty Kitty makes him want to hear her purr.
Under a memory spell, Kitty recalls nothing before the governor bought her from her parents and offered her protection from those he claims would kill her kind. So what if, in order to control her, he forces Kitty to morph then deprives her of sexual release after transformation. But the crafty card player she is assigned to “entertain” reveals himself as a kindred spirit—a shape shifter—and unravels the lie she’s been forced to live.
Together Jack and Kitty risk it all, for the stakes are high and the prize is worth it...freedom, forgiveness, love.
Purchase at
Excerpt -
“Have you dropped off your stipend for the game tomorrow?” She laid her finely, manicured hand on his arm. The dainty touch sent sparks of awareness through him, and his cock swelled. “The governor likes to put all the money in his strongbox for safekeeping before the party begins.”
Jack reined in his desire and reminded himself of his primary objective—to transport the lady back to Ardenia.
However, he liked Sloan’s clever rule. If a man didn’t contribute the required gold coins to the game, the governor shouldn’t waste resources entertaining him. “No, I can’t say that I have. I arrived just a few moments ago.”
“Then let me show you to the study, and I’ll fetch you a drink.” She touched his arm again and stepped into the foyer.
He bowed his head slightly and played the unfamiliar part of a refined gentleman. “And you are?”
She fluttered her hand over her face and brushed a wisp of light brown hair from her brow. “The governor calls me Kitty. It’d probably be best if you did, too.”
“What an alluring name? It makes me think of a cat with its lips covered by a luscious coat of cream.” Jack stared at Kitty’s mouth, and his tongue tingled at the idea of tasting her rich, flavorful lust.
She giggled and wove her hand through the crook in his arm. The soft swell of her breast bumped against his arm. “Oh, you’re naughty, but I love the alluring image.”
“Then, I hope you’ll let me have a taste later.” He didn’t crowd her but allowed her to step back. She led him across the entranceway to a door on the other side.
Remember she’s a princess.
Anita Philmar's
Banished Scoundrel
Known scoundrel Jack Avery must earn the queen's forgiveness by rescuing her missing daughter from the human world. His sources reveal the Princess Noelani is being held by a powerful man who likes a good game of chance. So with twenty borrowed pieces of gold Jack enters the high-stakes game. Only the lady he encounters is no princess. This pretty Kitty makes him want to hear her purr.
Under a memory spell, Kitty recalls nothing before the governor bought her from her parents and offered her protection from those he claims would kill her kind. So what if, in order to control her, he forces Kitty to morph then deprives her of sexual release after transformation. But the crafty card player she is assigned to “entertain” reveals himself as a kindred spirit—a shape shifter—and unravels the lie she’s been forced to live.
Together Jack and Kitty risk it all, for the stakes are high and the prize is worth it...freedom, forgiveness, love.
Purchase at
Excerpt -
“Have you dropped off your stipend for the game tomorrow?” She laid her finely, manicured hand on his arm. The dainty touch sent sparks of awareness through him, and his cock swelled. “The governor likes to put all the money in his strongbox for safekeeping before the party begins.”
Jack reined in his desire and reminded himself of his primary objective—to transport the lady back to Ardenia.
However, he liked Sloan’s clever rule. If a man didn’t contribute the required gold coins to the game, the governor shouldn’t waste resources entertaining him. “No, I can’t say that I have. I arrived just a few moments ago.”
“Then let me show you to the study, and I’ll fetch you a drink.” She touched his arm again and stepped into the foyer.
He bowed his head slightly and played the unfamiliar part of a refined gentleman. “And you are?”
She fluttered her hand over her face and brushed a wisp of light brown hair from her brow. “The governor calls me Kitty. It’d probably be best if you did, too.”
“What an alluring name? It makes me think of a cat with its lips covered by a luscious coat of cream.” Jack stared at Kitty’s mouth, and his tongue tingled at the idea of tasting her rich, flavorful lust.
She giggled and wove her hand through the crook in his arm. The soft swell of her breast bumped against his arm. “Oh, you’re naughty, but I love the alluring image.”
“Then, I hope you’ll let me have a taste later.” He didn’t crowd her but allowed her to step back. She led him across the entranceway to a door on the other side.
Remember she’s a princess.
Saturday, January 16, 2010
Tie Me Up, Tie Me Down
Copyright © KyAnn Waters, 2010
All Rights Reserved, The Wild Rose Press
Erotic, Western Contemporary
e-book novella $2.50
rated double rose
www.thewilderroses.com
To Purchase
Excerpt:
Tristan opened the driver door, walked around the front of the vehicle, and opened her door. He put his hand on her left thigh and spun her around on the leather seat. Her skin was smooth and soft. His cock thickened with desire and swelled into the fly of his jeans. He relished the tortuous heat pooling in his balls and the tingle at the base of his spine. She wanted his truck? Fine. He wanted her.
"Tristan--"
He cut her off by slanting his lips over hers. He touched her silken lips with his tongue, silently demanding her surrender to what he knew still boiled between them. A fierce intensity that neither had ever wanted to fight--not until he’d pushed her too far.
Her lips parted and he slicked past her teeth. Tongue rubbed against tongue. He growled and spread her thighs with his hips. Reaching up, he tugged the elastic, freeing her hair to fall around her shoulders.
Her fingers clutched his shirt. His abdominals quivered. She moaned and wrapped her legs around his hips. Linking her feet, she dug her heels into his ass and urged him closer. Heat raced through his body. He dropped the keys to the floor mat then grasped her buttocks and lifted her hard against his groin. Her thighs spread wider.
Tristan ate at her mouth, trailed a hand higher, feeling each rib as he trekked toward her breast. When he finally cupped the soft mound, she whimpered and arched into his hand. Her taut nipple prodded into his palm. He pinched and rolled the beaded peak through her shirt. It wasn’t enough.
He backed away and tugged her tank top up and off. "Ah hell, Jaycee."
Damn, she was pretty. Rosy, nickel-sized nipples centered on gently slopping breasts. They were milky white against the tanned contours of her arms and shoulders. He recalled how sensitive and sweet she was. He bent and pulled one delicious tip into his mouth, slathering her with moist kisses. She moaned and cupped the side of his head.
"I hate you," she whispered.
Copyright © KyAnn Waters, 2010
All Rights Reserved, The Wild Rose Press
Erotic, Western Contemporary
e-book novella $2.50
rated double rose
www.thewilderroses.com
To Purchase
A big truck rolled into town. The cowboy wore a black Stetson. Tristan McKay. He knows how to tie her up, but she refuses to be the woman to tie him down.
Jaycee Craven hasn't had hot, tie-me-up sex since Tristan left town. Okay, so six weeks ago she'd told him to go to hell. Now he's back in her one-horse town for the rodeo, only she's the one who's about to get more than an 8-second ride.
Excerpt:
Tristan opened the driver door, walked around the front of the vehicle, and opened her door. He put his hand on her left thigh and spun her around on the leather seat. Her skin was smooth and soft. His cock thickened with desire and swelled into the fly of his jeans. He relished the tortuous heat pooling in his balls and the tingle at the base of his spine. She wanted his truck? Fine. He wanted her.
"Tristan--"
He cut her off by slanting his lips over hers. He touched her silken lips with his tongue, silently demanding her surrender to what he knew still boiled between them. A fierce intensity that neither had ever wanted to fight--not until he’d pushed her too far.
Her lips parted and he slicked past her teeth. Tongue rubbed against tongue. He growled and spread her thighs with his hips. Reaching up, he tugged the elastic, freeing her hair to fall around her shoulders.
Her fingers clutched his shirt. His abdominals quivered. She moaned and wrapped her legs around his hips. Linking her feet, she dug her heels into his ass and urged him closer. Heat raced through his body. He dropped the keys to the floor mat then grasped her buttocks and lifted her hard against his groin. Her thighs spread wider.
Tristan ate at her mouth, trailed a hand higher, feeling each rib as he trekked toward her breast. When he finally cupped the soft mound, she whimpered and arched into his hand. Her taut nipple prodded into his palm. He pinched and rolled the beaded peak through her shirt. It wasn’t enough.
He backed away and tugged her tank top up and off. "Ah hell, Jaycee."
Damn, she was pretty. Rosy, nickel-sized nipples centered on gently slopping breasts. They were milky white against the tanned contours of her arms and shoulders. He recalled how sensitive and sweet she was. He bent and pulled one delicious tip into his mouth, slathering her with moist kisses. She moaned and cupped the side of his head.
"I hate you," she whispered.
Thursday, December 10, 2009
Iron Man - Book 2 in the Blood Slaves series is out!!
Iron Man
Copyright © KyAnn Waters, 2009
All Rights Reserved, Ellora's Cave Publishing, Inc.
To Purchase http://www.jasminejade.com/pm-7833-400-iron-man.aspx
Rafe threw another log on the fire. Sparks exploded from the crackling wood and rose into the chimney. Outside the living room window, snow continued to pile up on cars, houses and shrubs. For the second time in an hour, a plow rumbled down the street with yellow lights flashing.
He went back to the sofa and sipped a beer, wishing for the mind-numbing intoxication that wouldn't come. He hadn't fed in days and without the warm elixir of blood surging through his veins, he was without human sensation. Yet, he didn't have the energy to feed and even less motivation for The Catacombs, the vampire club that would see to all his needs.
The neighbors had really outdone themselves this Christmas. Colorful lights dripped from the house. The shrubs twinkled under the blanket of white and the porch pillars were wrapped to look like candy canes. Rafe hadn't put up a single holiday decoration. He no longer considered himself religious--not for three years. Not since becoming vampire.
With a groan, he leaned into the cushions. He was twenty-six years old and a seasoned firefighter of five years. This week off work was going to be hell. Shit, his life was hell. He wasn't taking time off by choice. His captain had insisted that he needed to mourn. He worked the graveyard shift at the station. And while he trusted the humans he worked with in harried situations such as an out-of-control inferno, he didn't trust them enough to bring any of them into his personal life. He hadn't trusted anyone since Adam. And that relationship hadn't worked out as he'd hoped.
Adam had been more than a blood slave to sate his hunger. At least, Rafe had wanted more. Without forging a blood bond, he and Adam couldn't have eternity. For that Adam had to become vampire, had to exchange blood with Rafe. They would not only bind their lives, they would share thoughts and live as one.
"Love," he said into the empty room. Love hurt like hell. Rafe had pushed, obviously asking for more than Adam had been willing to give. Then he'd pushed Adam out of his life altogether because Rafe hadn't been willing to settle for less than forever.
Now, instead of the sweet taste of Adam's blood floating over his tongue and warming his body, he fed from slaves at The Catacombs. Men who served the sect, served vampires. Men who weren't like Adam. Adam hadn't fed any vampire except Rafe. They hadn't just been symbiotic. They'd been partners.
Rafe drove the maudlin thoughts from his mind and considered his current situation. Tonight he'd rather not be home. He'd rather be hanging out at the fire station or on a call. He didn't wish harm to anyone, especially this time of year, but nothing cleared the mind like focusing on something else. Fires were dangerous, explosive and unpredictable. Exactly the way he felt.
At some point, he'd need to think about feeding. Right now, he just couldn't summon the strength to move. The silence was deafening.
Rafe started at a knock on the door. The hour had grown late. He couldn't think of anyone who would bother him tonight—not after the funeral. At this hour, his friends would be at The Catacombs.
With a heavy sigh, he stood, strode over to the door and pulled it open.
"Hi, Rafe, I heard you had a bad day."
His gut clenched. Emotion choked his throat. Adam Cross was the last person he expected to see at his front door. "You could say it's been a bad year." And it hadn't improved when this man walked away.
"May I come in?"
Rafe stuffed his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. He swallowed hard at the sight of his ex. Today had already left him drained. He wasn't sure he wanted to handle a conversation with Adam. But he stepped aside anyway. "Sure. Can't say I'm very good company."
Adam dusted snowflakes from his rakishly tousled hair and hunched his shoulders as he crossed the threshold. "I used to be able to cheer you up." He faced Rafe. Heavy silence hung between them. His full lips pulled into a somber line and were slightly reddened from the cold. "It's been a while. I had to see you, although I wish the circumstance were better."
Memories of them together still stung. The breakup hadn't been bitter or angry. Adam had the opportunity to take a position in Washington, DC, consulting for the government. Prestigious, lucrative and a once-in-a-lifetime chance to excel in his field. All excuses. Adam had left to get away from Rafe. He'd made his choice.
Adam's skin warmed. Rafe flared his nostrils, drawing in more of the coppery-sweet aroma of the thick blood flowing through Adam. His cock stirred. Time hadn't lessened his appetite for this man. His acute hunger intensified and bordered on painful. As much as he needed to feed and wanted to fuck, now wasn't the time to ravage his former lover. Emotions still ran too deep and Rafe still wanted more than Adam's blood. He still wanted more than Adam was willing to give.
Adam shared Rafe's sexual predilections for adventure. Their playground had been The Catacombs, a highly exclusive place that catered to men with Rafe's appetite and Adam's inclinations.
Rafe nodded toward the living room and started forward. "Would you care for a drink?"
"That would be great."
Rafe walked to the bar. He still stocked Adam's favorite Scotch whisky, Aberlour, and poured two inches of amber liquid into a tumbler.
Adam stood next to the crackling fire and shrugged out of his camelhair trench coat. Damn, he looked incredible. Evidently their breaking up had been good for him.
A casual crew-neck shirt hugged the contours of his muscular chest. Adam kept in shape--he enjoyed the attention of looking good. His belted Dockers fit his job but not his personality. Not the real man that Rafe knew. Business casual was fine for the office but Rafe preferred him in a studded codpiece and leather chaps to show off his long legs and calves carved from granite.
Slightly damp chestnut curls brushed against his collar. Rafe hadn't forgotten the piercing eyes and thick lashes but he'd forgotten the intensity of the vivid green color. Square forehead, hollow cheeks and a cleft in his clean-shaven face gave him a masculine appearance.
Rafe handed him the drink then sat on the couch. He wasn't sure what to say. He hadn't seen Adam in a couple of months. With his mother's illness, he doubted he would've been good company.
"I came home…for Christmas." Adam sat in the chair facing the couch and rested his forearms on his widespread thighs.
"That's good. So how's your family?"
Adam rolled the tumbler between his palms. "About the same."
"I guess not much changes."
Adam lifted his head and met Rafe's stare. "We both know that isn't true." He took a healthy swig of his drink. "But not everything does." His heated gaze raked over Rafe, lingering on his face. "You look good."
Rafe smiled along with a nervous chuckle then combed his straight brown bangs from his forehead with his fingers. He should've had a haircut, but then he hadn't expected company. Hadn't expected Adam to show up on his doorstep. "I was thinking the same thing about you." He stood and crossed to the hearth. After opening the metal screen, he knelt on one knee and picked up a split log.
"I had to come over…when I heard about your mom. I'm so sorry."
Rafe paused then tossed the log on the dying flames. "Yeah, me too."
"If I had known she was sick, I would've been here for both of you."
Rafe released an unsteady sigh. "You left, Adam." He glanced over his shoulder.
"Theron knew where to find me."
Of course he would. Theron was one of the surviving seven, a Master Vampire. He controlled every aspect of his sect, including blood slaves. "I know, but I've never asked him about you." He turned back to the flames. "We both made our choices. I appreciate that you're here, but I haven't fed, haven't slept. It might be best if you go."
"No." Strong fingers closed over his shoulder. "To offer condolences isn't the only reason I came over."
Desire flared in Rafe's groin and his cock stirred.
"Come here."
Rafe paused then slowly stood. Adam wrapped long fingers around the back of his neck and pulled him into a kiss. A shiver skittered down his spine and his nipples tightened around the steel posts piercing them. Adam's lips were soft but insistent. Fuck, did Rafe really need this added complication? The man had a way of making him shed any inhibitions. They'd been wild and hungry for one another. Then Rafe's hunger had driven them apart. Adam hadn't thought Rafe could handle the limitations of their relationship. Adam had refused to bond with Rafe—refused to become vampire. He'd understood, but the rejection had still hurt like hell.
But the man could kiss. Rafe parted his lips and Adam's tongue delved into his mouth. Adam tasted good. A hint of mint blended with the essence of whisky and raw man. His grip tightened and he moaned low in his chest. Kissing back, his tongue swept into Adam's mouth, tasting, lightly sucking, then demanding.
Maybe Rafe needed this--to lose himself in his former lover, the man he still wanted, even if just for tonight. Inside, something snapped. A rush of need left him dizzy and his cock swelled against his jeans. Rafe became the aggressor, grasped Adam's buttocks and jerked him close. Adam groaned as Rafe pressed their erect cocks together.
"Is this what you came here for?" Rafe slithered his tongue against Adam's. He tasted better than he remembered. Intoxicatingly male. He threaded his hands through Adam's hair, holding his head as he deepened the kiss.
Adam ripped his mouth away and he gripped Rafe's shoulders. "I couldn't stay away." He shifted his hips, rubbing his groin into Rafe, pressing into the hard ridge of his shaft. "Is there another man in your life? A blood slave?"
He gave a low laugh. "Would you care?" Adam eased back and their gazes met. Rafe tugged on Adam's belt buckle. "Because I couldn't care less if there is anyone in yours." With fierce possessiveness, he cupped Adam's erect cock. "If you only stopped by for conversation, tell me now." He nipped at his lip, biting a little harder than he should. Part of him wanted to punish Adam for leaving but the bigger part was just damn glad he was there now.
"You always did want to fuck me."
With those words, Adam turned his head, laying open the flesh of his neck. Saliva pooled in Rafe's mouth, his tongue swelled and his canines lengthened. Control unfurled within him and the feral man, the part that wasn't human, took over. A growl rolled from his chest as his lips pulled back in a snarl.
Muscles throughout his body tensed.
"Now, Rafe. I feel as desperate as you."
Not possible. Rafe threaded his fingers into Adam's hair and angled his head. Opening wide, he hovered over his flesh, anticipating sinking his teeth into the sweet elixir coursing through Adam's veins--the drug that made Rafe human again.
Iron Man
Copyright © KyAnn Waters, 2009
All Rights Reserved, Ellora's Cave Publishing, Inc.
To Purchase http://www.jasminejade.com/pm-7833-400-iron-man.aspx
Iron Man
Book 2 in the Blood Slaves series
Rafe is a vampire and Adam is his human blood slave. But Rafe wants more—a blood bond. Adam is not willing to join the vampire world so he leaves it all behind and heads for DC and a new life.
Adam is back in town for the holidays. They rekindle their romance and head to the local fetish club, The Catacombs, where Adam is known as Iron Man because of his hardware—a steel cock plug and chain harness. They spend the week having wild, aggressive, kinky-as-hell sex. Anything goes.
When it’s time to return to the real world, Adam is torn. Rafe is more than a vampire, more than his lover. He’s his partner. Adam isn’t sure he can give up his humanity, even for the man he loves. He has to decide—a vampire blood bond or his lonely human life in DC?
Note: Two sexy men in a fetish club can get into a lot of kinky situations, so be prepared for anything, including all male, multiple-partner bondage sex and orgies in very public places.
Rafe threw another log on the fire. Sparks exploded from the crackling wood and rose into the chimney. Outside the living room window, snow continued to pile up on cars, houses and shrubs. For the second time in an hour, a plow rumbled down the street with yellow lights flashing.
He went back to the sofa and sipped a beer, wishing for the mind-numbing intoxication that wouldn't come. He hadn't fed in days and without the warm elixir of blood surging through his veins, he was without human sensation. Yet, he didn't have the energy to feed and even less motivation for The Catacombs, the vampire club that would see to all his needs.
The neighbors had really outdone themselves this Christmas. Colorful lights dripped from the house. The shrubs twinkled under the blanket of white and the porch pillars were wrapped to look like candy canes. Rafe hadn't put up a single holiday decoration. He no longer considered himself religious--not for three years. Not since becoming vampire.
With a groan, he leaned into the cushions. He was twenty-six years old and a seasoned firefighter of five years. This week off work was going to be hell. Shit, his life was hell. He wasn't taking time off by choice. His captain had insisted that he needed to mourn. He worked the graveyard shift at the station. And while he trusted the humans he worked with in harried situations such as an out-of-control inferno, he didn't trust them enough to bring any of them into his personal life. He hadn't trusted anyone since Adam. And that relationship hadn't worked out as he'd hoped.
Adam had been more than a blood slave to sate his hunger. At least, Rafe had wanted more. Without forging a blood bond, he and Adam couldn't have eternity. For that Adam had to become vampire, had to exchange blood with Rafe. They would not only bind their lives, they would share thoughts and live as one.
"Love," he said into the empty room. Love hurt like hell. Rafe had pushed, obviously asking for more than Adam had been willing to give. Then he'd pushed Adam out of his life altogether because Rafe hadn't been willing to settle for less than forever.
Now, instead of the sweet taste of Adam's blood floating over his tongue and warming his body, he fed from slaves at The Catacombs. Men who served the sect, served vampires. Men who weren't like Adam. Adam hadn't fed any vampire except Rafe. They hadn't just been symbiotic. They'd been partners.
Rafe drove the maudlin thoughts from his mind and considered his current situation. Tonight he'd rather not be home. He'd rather be hanging out at the fire station or on a call. He didn't wish harm to anyone, especially this time of year, but nothing cleared the mind like focusing on something else. Fires were dangerous, explosive and unpredictable. Exactly the way he felt.
At some point, he'd need to think about feeding. Right now, he just couldn't summon the strength to move. The silence was deafening.
Rafe started at a knock on the door. The hour had grown late. He couldn't think of anyone who would bother him tonight—not after the funeral. At this hour, his friends would be at The Catacombs.
With a heavy sigh, he stood, strode over to the door and pulled it open.
"Hi, Rafe, I heard you had a bad day."
His gut clenched. Emotion choked his throat. Adam Cross was the last person he expected to see at his front door. "You could say it's been a bad year." And it hadn't improved when this man walked away.
"May I come in?"
Rafe stuffed his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. He swallowed hard at the sight of his ex. Today had already left him drained. He wasn't sure he wanted to handle a conversation with Adam. But he stepped aside anyway. "Sure. Can't say I'm very good company."
Adam dusted snowflakes from his rakishly tousled hair and hunched his shoulders as he crossed the threshold. "I used to be able to cheer you up." He faced Rafe. Heavy silence hung between them. His full lips pulled into a somber line and were slightly reddened from the cold. "It's been a while. I had to see you, although I wish the circumstance were better."
Memories of them together still stung. The breakup hadn't been bitter or angry. Adam had the opportunity to take a position in Washington, DC, consulting for the government. Prestigious, lucrative and a once-in-a-lifetime chance to excel in his field. All excuses. Adam had left to get away from Rafe. He'd made his choice.
Adam's skin warmed. Rafe flared his nostrils, drawing in more of the coppery-sweet aroma of the thick blood flowing through Adam. His cock stirred. Time hadn't lessened his appetite for this man. His acute hunger intensified and bordered on painful. As much as he needed to feed and wanted to fuck, now wasn't the time to ravage his former lover. Emotions still ran too deep and Rafe still wanted more than Adam's blood. He still wanted more than Adam was willing to give.
Adam shared Rafe's sexual predilections for adventure. Their playground had been The Catacombs, a highly exclusive place that catered to men with Rafe's appetite and Adam's inclinations.
Rafe nodded toward the living room and started forward. "Would you care for a drink?"
"That would be great."
Rafe walked to the bar. He still stocked Adam's favorite Scotch whisky, Aberlour, and poured two inches of amber liquid into a tumbler.
Adam stood next to the crackling fire and shrugged out of his camelhair trench coat. Damn, he looked incredible. Evidently their breaking up had been good for him.
A casual crew-neck shirt hugged the contours of his muscular chest. Adam kept in shape--he enjoyed the attention of looking good. His belted Dockers fit his job but not his personality. Not the real man that Rafe knew. Business casual was fine for the office but Rafe preferred him in a studded codpiece and leather chaps to show off his long legs and calves carved from granite.
Slightly damp chestnut curls brushed against his collar. Rafe hadn't forgotten the piercing eyes and thick lashes but he'd forgotten the intensity of the vivid green color. Square forehead, hollow cheeks and a cleft in his clean-shaven face gave him a masculine appearance.
Rafe handed him the drink then sat on the couch. He wasn't sure what to say. He hadn't seen Adam in a couple of months. With his mother's illness, he doubted he would've been good company.
"I came home…for Christmas." Adam sat in the chair facing the couch and rested his forearms on his widespread thighs.
"That's good. So how's your family?"
Adam rolled the tumbler between his palms. "About the same."
"I guess not much changes."
Adam lifted his head and met Rafe's stare. "We both know that isn't true." He took a healthy swig of his drink. "But not everything does." His heated gaze raked over Rafe, lingering on his face. "You look good."
Rafe smiled along with a nervous chuckle then combed his straight brown bangs from his forehead with his fingers. He should've had a haircut, but then he hadn't expected company. Hadn't expected Adam to show up on his doorstep. "I was thinking the same thing about you." He stood and crossed to the hearth. After opening the metal screen, he knelt on one knee and picked up a split log.
"I had to come over…when I heard about your mom. I'm so sorry."
Rafe paused then tossed the log on the dying flames. "Yeah, me too."
"If I had known she was sick, I would've been here for both of you."
Rafe released an unsteady sigh. "You left, Adam." He glanced over his shoulder.
"Theron knew where to find me."
Of course he would. Theron was one of the surviving seven, a Master Vampire. He controlled every aspect of his sect, including blood slaves. "I know, but I've never asked him about you." He turned back to the flames. "We both made our choices. I appreciate that you're here, but I haven't fed, haven't slept. It might be best if you go."
"No." Strong fingers closed over his shoulder. "To offer condolences isn't the only reason I came over."
Desire flared in Rafe's groin and his cock stirred.
"Come here."
Rafe paused then slowly stood. Adam wrapped long fingers around the back of his neck and pulled him into a kiss. A shiver skittered down his spine and his nipples tightened around the steel posts piercing them. Adam's lips were soft but insistent. Fuck, did Rafe really need this added complication? The man had a way of making him shed any inhibitions. They'd been wild and hungry for one another. Then Rafe's hunger had driven them apart. Adam hadn't thought Rafe could handle the limitations of their relationship. Adam had refused to bond with Rafe—refused to become vampire. He'd understood, but the rejection had still hurt like hell.
But the man could kiss. Rafe parted his lips and Adam's tongue delved into his mouth. Adam tasted good. A hint of mint blended with the essence of whisky and raw man. His grip tightened and he moaned low in his chest. Kissing back, his tongue swept into Adam's mouth, tasting, lightly sucking, then demanding.
Maybe Rafe needed this--to lose himself in his former lover, the man he still wanted, even if just for tonight. Inside, something snapped. A rush of need left him dizzy and his cock swelled against his jeans. Rafe became the aggressor, grasped Adam's buttocks and jerked him close. Adam groaned as Rafe pressed their erect cocks together.
"Is this what you came here for?" Rafe slithered his tongue against Adam's. He tasted better than he remembered. Intoxicatingly male. He threaded his hands through Adam's hair, holding his head as he deepened the kiss.
Adam ripped his mouth away and he gripped Rafe's shoulders. "I couldn't stay away." He shifted his hips, rubbing his groin into Rafe, pressing into the hard ridge of his shaft. "Is there another man in your life? A blood slave?"
He gave a low laugh. "Would you care?" Adam eased back and their gazes met. Rafe tugged on Adam's belt buckle. "Because I couldn't care less if there is anyone in yours." With fierce possessiveness, he cupped Adam's erect cock. "If you only stopped by for conversation, tell me now." He nipped at his lip, biting a little harder than he should. Part of him wanted to punish Adam for leaving but the bigger part was just damn glad he was there now.
"You always did want to fuck me."
With those words, Adam turned his head, laying open the flesh of his neck. Saliva pooled in Rafe's mouth, his tongue swelled and his canines lengthened. Control unfurled within him and the feral man, the part that wasn't human, took over. A growl rolled from his chest as his lips pulled back in a snarl.
Muscles throughout his body tensed.
"Now, Rafe. I feel as desperate as you."
Not possible. Rafe threaded his fingers into Adam's hair and angled his head. Opening wide, he hovered over his flesh, anticipating sinking his teeth into the sweet elixir coursing through Adam's veins--the drug that made Rafe human again.
Erotic Romance Author
www.KyAnnWaters.com
www.KyAnnWaters.com
Friday, November 13, 2009
Ice Man: Blood Slaves
Available today!
Ice Man
Copyright © KyAnn Waters, 2009
All Rights Reserved, Ellora's Cave Publishing, Inc.
To Purchase: http://www.jasminejade.com/p-7799-ice-man.aspx
Book 1 in the Blood Slaves series.
Feeding and sex go hand in hand when you're a blood slave to a vampire. It's like a drug and Rowan is hooked. With the vampire Theron, Rowan has never wanted for more than his next fix. Until he meets Brett. Brett is hot, the sex is incredible and he's human.
Brett is looking for kinky sex when he goes to the Catacombs, an exclusive fetish club for men. Flair bartender Rowan, also known as Ice Man, is sexy and mysterious. Brett isn't ready to complicate his life with a lover outside the Catacombs and Rowan isn't interested in club-scene sex but coming together and giving in never felt so good.
Rowan's dark secret could destroy everything. He must never allow Brett to learn of his symbiotic relationship with the vampire. He has to choose--tell Brett the truth or remain a blood slave. He can only hope that Brett will trust in love enough to forgive him.
An Excerpt From: ICE MAN
Another busy night and patrons crowded around the counter. Rowan stood behind the bar, flipping bottles and mixing drinks. His hands were steady as he focused on the turns, juggles and flash that brought him excellent tips and inquisitive stares. Blood slaves and vamps mingled with unsuspecting humans. All gay men and all heavy into fetish and the lifestyle. The Catacombs was a pleasure palace to those seeking high kink and anonymity.
Rowan fed on the erotic energy and adoration. However, he never participated in the sex play happening in public rooms, private rooms, or the open fuck fest occurring in the Pit, a large room with few rules and few limits. His habits in the bedroom weren't for public consumption.
He couldn't say the same of his vampire lover. Some looked at Rowan with loathing and contempt. He supposed that was to be expected, considering he was the blood slave to the ancient vampire. It wasn't a role he accepted easily.
Rowan didn't have family. In his early childhood, he'd bounced from foster family to foster family. Adolescence was worse. He'd always known he was gay. His lips curled into a snarl as he took a mental trip down memory lane. Getting caught giving the captain of the high school swim team a blowjob had gotten him kicked out of the last home. He'd taken to the streets and had been there about a year when he'd met a man named Tac.
Incredibly attractive, obviously wealthy, dressed in all black and screaming sex, he looked good and smelled better. Rowan hadn't been able to take his eyes off the bulge of his cock encased in black denim. He'd worn a long black coat. That night seven years ago, Tac had offered Rowan a ride in his BMW, had taken him out to dinner then back to his bed.
Seven years.
Rowan shook off the maudlin thoughts. Part of him did belong in the club, belonged to the vampires. But that didn't mean he didn't want a traditional relationship. A man, not a vampire, to share his life. He glanced at Theron's private table. He sat with friends, laughing, exuding a sexual aura that attracted men like moths to a fire. They knew him as Tac, the king of kink.
"You have beautiful eyes."
Rowan focused his attention on the man seated in front of him.
"Ah," he said. "So you can smile."
"What can I get you?" Rowan wiped the counter with a bar towel.
"A mojito, a private room and an hour with you."
Rowan took a tall glass from the stack. "I'm working." He tossed the rum bottle and caught it above the glass.
"You're very good at what you do."
"Thanks."
The man had piercing blue eyes fringed with thick feathery lashes. He wore a gentleman's haircut, trimmed close on the sides and a bit longer on top. Gray hairs weaved though the dark hair at his temples. Laugh lines creased the corners of his eyes when he smiled. Sharp angles created an interesting face. Ruggedly handsome, yet his deep voice spoke of refined elegance. A man who could sip champagne and still get dirty.
Rowan's cock stirred. The stranger intrigued him. Unlike many of the members of The Catacombs, this man wasn't blatant in his predilections. Men around them wore leather, PVC or bare oil-slicked skin, chains and collars. This man had on a silk shirt and trousers.
"I assume this is your first time here." Rowan knew everyone in the club. That was his job. He'd never seen this man before. He passed a pad of paper and pen to the stranger. "Member number." So he could put the drink charges to his tab.
Inside the club, anonymity was a priority. Men could spend an evening, fuck one person or participate in group sex. Or a man could slip into a private room, revel in any fetish and never share his name.
The man jotted his number on the paper. "Not my first time." He gathered sweat from the glass on his fingertip. "Though I did recently move to the area." He didn't elaborate.
Rowan focused on the way he traced patterns on the glass. Manicured nails capped long, thick fingers. Sparse dark hair swirled between his knuckles.
"It's a bit awkward," the man said. "We aren't supposed to ask for names and telling someone you want to fuck them isn't supposed to be uncomfortable here." He sipped his drink. His eyes raked over Rowan's T-shirt-clad chest. An answering warmth rushed into his shaft. His cock jerked. It felt good.
Men in the club didn't usually affect him. Perhaps he'd become desensitized to the tempting flesh on display throughout the club or maybe his lack of interest in others stemmed more from the fact that Theron fucked him hard and often.
"Rowan," he said without thinking about it too long. He extended his hand and the man enclosed it in the strong, solid warmth of his. Fingers tightened and held for just a moment.
"Brett Kirsch." He loosened his grip and they slowly let go. "A pleasure."
What the fuck? Rowan's pulse pounded and blood surged from his brain into his cock. His balls tingled and his skin was electrified. Desire simmered in his gut, turning hot. Sweat trickled down his back. A pleasure for sure. An unexpected one.
Not that he could do anything about the rush of blood into his shaft or the flash of desire warming his balls. Not without interference. He immediately scanned the area for Theron. The vampire, in the Zenith, would know the dangerous thoughts in Rowan's head.
"So we have names." Brett took a sip of his mojito. Now would they have sex?
"Your offer is tempting but I don't fuck in the club."
Brett raised an eyebrow and his mouth twisted with mirth. "You don't find the surroundings arousing?"
Rowan glanced at the men sipping beers, hooking up, determining who could best fulfill their darker desires. "No." He snapped his gaze back to Brett. "Not usually." He paused, took a chance on having his thoughts heard and then spoke. "That doesn't mean I'm not interested." Tension tightened his shoulders. "And I'm working."
"When do you get off?"
Rowan smiled.
"I meant, when do you stop working?"
Rowan worked at the club every night. His shift started after dark. Normally he stuck around until the crowds thinned but Brett could tempt him away. He leaned forward and whispered, "Would you be interested in getting together outside the club?"
Brett's smile faltered. "I wish I could." He took a hefty swallow of his drink. "I come to the club to avoid outside entanglements." He pushed the glass forward. "If you change your mind, I'll be around."
There won't be an after-hours party. Tell him not to go.
Rowan's stomach plummeted and his eyes slid closed. Whispered words couldn't keep his thoughts private—not from the mental link he shared with Theron. Usually he didn't care. With Theron, he'd held nothing sacred. Tonight he wanted a taste of something he'd never before considered. Chills broke along his arms. "Brett, wait." His heart pounded.
Brett turned. Rowan gave himself a lift by stepping onto the shelf behind the counter. In a leap, he lunged up and stood on the surface of the bar. Their eyes locked. He wanted one touch. Perhaps one kiss. He didn't know how Theron would react but he had to take the risk.
He stepped across the bar surface then placed his booted foot on the barstool. He jumped to the ground. He moved with determination. Nothing was going to stop him. Not even Theron.
What makes you think I want to stop you?
"Some choices are mine to make."
Rowan stood nearly the same height as Brett. His tight T-shirt, worn denim and combat boots contrasted the "business hot" Brett wore. He touched his tongue to his lower lip. Nerves sizzled. He didn't fuck members of the club. Nightly propositions were common. The heat firing through his system and hardening his cock wasn't.
"Does this mean you're on break?" Brett's smile cut deep dimples into his cheeks.
"I don't need a break to kiss you." He stared at Brett's mouth. Full lips, sensuous and soft.
"Then kiss me." He curled a finger into the waistband of Rowan's jeans where they rode low on his hips. A gentle tug brought their groins close together.
Rowan nipped at Brett's mouth, tempting his lips open with a flick of his tongue. His body felt alive. The man smelled incredible. Cloves and leather. He wrapped his hand around Brett's nape. The hair at his neck was silken against Rowan's fingertips and his skin warm. He opened his mouth and thrust his tongue inside. Sweet flavors of mint and rum mingled with the tempting demands of an aroused man. Brett groaned, grasped Rowan at the hips and crushed their erect cocks together.
A group near the bar erupted in cheers. "Ice Man. Ice Man. Ice Man." Ice Man wasn't just his bar name, it's how he lived. Rowan bantered and had fun while serving drinks but he had never savored the heady intoxication of a mysterious lover. Until now.
Rowan banded his arm around Brett and reveled in the play of taut muscles beneath his designer clothes. Shifting his head to the left, he deepened the kiss. He couldn't taste enough. Erotic swipes of his tongue glided against smooth inner tissues and teeth then dipped in again and sucked. Lips meshed. He hadn't realized how careful he'd had to be when kissing Theron. Brett didn't have razor-sharp teeth. He ate at Brett's mouth, demanding, hungry for more. He rolled his pelvis. Friction warmed his cock as it pulsed behind the fly of his jeans. Yeah, he wanted much, much more.
Brett grasped his buttocks. "Now do you want to fuck me?" Tongue rubbed tongue, slow then hard thrusts hinting at the intended promise of a night together weaving between them.
Take him to a private room. I'll join you there.
Rowan jerked his mouth away. He flinched, stepping away from Brett as if he'd been burned. "No!"
A dark shadow fell across Brett's face. "I wasn't insisting on anything. And you kissed me."
A lump like a boulder lodged in Rowan's gut. "You don't understand. It's not you."
Brett focused over Rowan's right shoulder.
Prickles tingled along Rowan's spine. He didn't have to turn around to know why the atmosphere around them charged with tension. Theron.
He stepped in close behind Rowan and rested a hand on his shoulder. "I see you've found someone to join us." Good choice. I can smell his musk. He's hot for you.
Brett's gaze shifted between them, recognition dawning. Members of The Catacombs had to go through Tac. To humans, he was a complex, secretive business owner who protected his establishment. He provided gay men a safe location to explore and be accepted in a dark sexual world of kink and fetishes.
"Rowan, I didn't realize you were involved."
Theron's grip tightened. Foolish and dangerous. You know better. No names.
"I'm only involved when my cock is," Rowan said.
Theron burst out laughing. "Well, I think your cock could be persuaded." I'm hard, hungry and need you, now.
"I'm working." He glanced over his shoulder. Members crowded around the bar. Two other bartenders handled drinks but without the flair and style he brought to the job. Flair bartending was the only show he gave. The scene playing out between the three of them held several vampires' rapt attention. Neither sex nor a situation with Theron was going to be the night's entertainment. Damn it. He knew better than to start what he was unwilling to finish. And he wasn't willing to play in Tac's playground. Their connection was personal and private. That vampires knew he was a blood slave was enough.
"I'm not opposed to joining the two of you." Brett smiled.
Will he let me fuck him just so he can fuck you? Interesting. I think we should put it to the test.
"No."
"Ah, no big deal." But it was and Rowan could see the disappointment in the downturn of Brett's smile and the shrug of his shoulders.
Rowan stepped forward and slammed his mouth over Brett's. He thrust his tongue between his lips in wild possession. Hot, sexy and full of erotic intention. He cupped Brett's cock and rubbed his palm over the erect length. Damn, the man was thick, long and hard. His mouth watered and his anus clenched.
You want him. Take him.
He ignored the voice in his head. "I do want to fuck you. Not here."
No.
Brett ran his fingers over Rowan's abdominals. Quivers rippled along his flesh. "I wish I could, but I can't." He turned his focus to Tac. "Another time, perhaps."
Tac grinned. "I certainly hope so."
Available today!
Ice Man
Copyright © KyAnn Waters, 2009
All Rights Reserved, Ellora's Cave Publishing, Inc.
To Purchase: http://www.jasminejade.com/p-7799-ice-man.aspx
Book 1 in the Blood Slaves series.
Feeding and sex go hand in hand when you're a blood slave to a vampire. It's like a drug and Rowan is hooked. With the vampire Theron, Rowan has never wanted for more than his next fix. Until he meets Brett. Brett is hot, the sex is incredible and he's human.
Brett is looking for kinky sex when he goes to the Catacombs, an exclusive fetish club for men. Flair bartender Rowan, also known as Ice Man, is sexy and mysterious. Brett isn't ready to complicate his life with a lover outside the Catacombs and Rowan isn't interested in club-scene sex but coming together and giving in never felt so good.
Rowan's dark secret could destroy everything. He must never allow Brett to learn of his symbiotic relationship with the vampire. He has to choose--tell Brett the truth or remain a blood slave. He can only hope that Brett will trust in love enough to forgive him.
An Excerpt From: ICE MAN
Another busy night and patrons crowded around the counter. Rowan stood behind the bar, flipping bottles and mixing drinks. His hands were steady as he focused on the turns, juggles and flash that brought him excellent tips and inquisitive stares. Blood slaves and vamps mingled with unsuspecting humans. All gay men and all heavy into fetish and the lifestyle. The Catacombs was a pleasure palace to those seeking high kink and anonymity.
Rowan fed on the erotic energy and adoration. However, he never participated in the sex play happening in public rooms, private rooms, or the open fuck fest occurring in the Pit, a large room with few rules and few limits. His habits in the bedroom weren't for public consumption.
He couldn't say the same of his vampire lover. Some looked at Rowan with loathing and contempt. He supposed that was to be expected, considering he was the blood slave to the ancient vampire. It wasn't a role he accepted easily.
Rowan didn't have family. In his early childhood, he'd bounced from foster family to foster family. Adolescence was worse. He'd always known he was gay. His lips curled into a snarl as he took a mental trip down memory lane. Getting caught giving the captain of the high school swim team a blowjob had gotten him kicked out of the last home. He'd taken to the streets and had been there about a year when he'd met a man named Tac.
Incredibly attractive, obviously wealthy, dressed in all black and screaming sex, he looked good and smelled better. Rowan hadn't been able to take his eyes off the bulge of his cock encased in black denim. He'd worn a long black coat. That night seven years ago, Tac had offered Rowan a ride in his BMW, had taken him out to dinner then back to his bed.
Seven years.
Rowan shook off the maudlin thoughts. Part of him did belong in the club, belonged to the vampires. But that didn't mean he didn't want a traditional relationship. A man, not a vampire, to share his life. He glanced at Theron's private table. He sat with friends, laughing, exuding a sexual aura that attracted men like moths to a fire. They knew him as Tac, the king of kink.
"You have beautiful eyes."
Rowan focused his attention on the man seated in front of him.
"Ah," he said. "So you can smile."
"What can I get you?" Rowan wiped the counter with a bar towel.
"A mojito, a private room and an hour with you."
Rowan took a tall glass from the stack. "I'm working." He tossed the rum bottle and caught it above the glass.
"You're very good at what you do."
"Thanks."
The man had piercing blue eyes fringed with thick feathery lashes. He wore a gentleman's haircut, trimmed close on the sides and a bit longer on top. Gray hairs weaved though the dark hair at his temples. Laugh lines creased the corners of his eyes when he smiled. Sharp angles created an interesting face. Ruggedly handsome, yet his deep voice spoke of refined elegance. A man who could sip champagne and still get dirty.
Rowan's cock stirred. The stranger intrigued him. Unlike many of the members of The Catacombs, this man wasn't blatant in his predilections. Men around them wore leather, PVC or bare oil-slicked skin, chains and collars. This man had on a silk shirt and trousers.
"I assume this is your first time here." Rowan knew everyone in the club. That was his job. He'd never seen this man before. He passed a pad of paper and pen to the stranger. "Member number." So he could put the drink charges to his tab.
Inside the club, anonymity was a priority. Men could spend an evening, fuck one person or participate in group sex. Or a man could slip into a private room, revel in any fetish and never share his name.
The man jotted his number on the paper. "Not my first time." He gathered sweat from the glass on his fingertip. "Though I did recently move to the area." He didn't elaborate.
Rowan focused on the way he traced patterns on the glass. Manicured nails capped long, thick fingers. Sparse dark hair swirled between his knuckles.
"It's a bit awkward," the man said. "We aren't supposed to ask for names and telling someone you want to fuck them isn't supposed to be uncomfortable here." He sipped his drink. His eyes raked over Rowan's T-shirt-clad chest. An answering warmth rushed into his shaft. His cock jerked. It felt good.
Men in the club didn't usually affect him. Perhaps he'd become desensitized to the tempting flesh on display throughout the club or maybe his lack of interest in others stemmed more from the fact that Theron fucked him hard and often.
"Rowan," he said without thinking about it too long. He extended his hand and the man enclosed it in the strong, solid warmth of his. Fingers tightened and held for just a moment.
"Brett Kirsch." He loosened his grip and they slowly let go. "A pleasure."
What the fuck? Rowan's pulse pounded and blood surged from his brain into his cock. His balls tingled and his skin was electrified. Desire simmered in his gut, turning hot. Sweat trickled down his back. A pleasure for sure. An unexpected one.
Not that he could do anything about the rush of blood into his shaft or the flash of desire warming his balls. Not without interference. He immediately scanned the area for Theron. The vampire, in the Zenith, would know the dangerous thoughts in Rowan's head.
"So we have names." Brett took a sip of his mojito. Now would they have sex?
"Your offer is tempting but I don't fuck in the club."
Brett raised an eyebrow and his mouth twisted with mirth. "You don't find the surroundings arousing?"
Rowan glanced at the men sipping beers, hooking up, determining who could best fulfill their darker desires. "No." He snapped his gaze back to Brett. "Not usually." He paused, took a chance on having his thoughts heard and then spoke. "That doesn't mean I'm not interested." Tension tightened his shoulders. "And I'm working."
"When do you get off?"
Rowan smiled.
"I meant, when do you stop working?"
Rowan worked at the club every night. His shift started after dark. Normally he stuck around until the crowds thinned but Brett could tempt him away. He leaned forward and whispered, "Would you be interested in getting together outside the club?"
Brett's smile faltered. "I wish I could." He took a hefty swallow of his drink. "I come to the club to avoid outside entanglements." He pushed the glass forward. "If you change your mind, I'll be around."
There won't be an after-hours party. Tell him not to go.
Rowan's stomach plummeted and his eyes slid closed. Whispered words couldn't keep his thoughts private—not from the mental link he shared with Theron. Usually he didn't care. With Theron, he'd held nothing sacred. Tonight he wanted a taste of something he'd never before considered. Chills broke along his arms. "Brett, wait." His heart pounded.
Brett turned. Rowan gave himself a lift by stepping onto the shelf behind the counter. In a leap, he lunged up and stood on the surface of the bar. Their eyes locked. He wanted one touch. Perhaps one kiss. He didn't know how Theron would react but he had to take the risk.
He stepped across the bar surface then placed his booted foot on the barstool. He jumped to the ground. He moved with determination. Nothing was going to stop him. Not even Theron.
What makes you think I want to stop you?
"Some choices are mine to make."
Rowan stood nearly the same height as Brett. His tight T-shirt, worn denim and combat boots contrasted the "business hot" Brett wore. He touched his tongue to his lower lip. Nerves sizzled. He didn't fuck members of the club. Nightly propositions were common. The heat firing through his system and hardening his cock wasn't.
"Does this mean you're on break?" Brett's smile cut deep dimples into his cheeks.
"I don't need a break to kiss you." He stared at Brett's mouth. Full lips, sensuous and soft.
"Then kiss me." He curled a finger into the waistband of Rowan's jeans where they rode low on his hips. A gentle tug brought their groins close together.
Rowan nipped at Brett's mouth, tempting his lips open with a flick of his tongue. His body felt alive. The man smelled incredible. Cloves and leather. He wrapped his hand around Brett's nape. The hair at his neck was silken against Rowan's fingertips and his skin warm. He opened his mouth and thrust his tongue inside. Sweet flavors of mint and rum mingled with the tempting demands of an aroused man. Brett groaned, grasped Rowan at the hips and crushed their erect cocks together.
A group near the bar erupted in cheers. "Ice Man. Ice Man. Ice Man." Ice Man wasn't just his bar name, it's how he lived. Rowan bantered and had fun while serving drinks but he had never savored the heady intoxication of a mysterious lover. Until now.
Rowan banded his arm around Brett and reveled in the play of taut muscles beneath his designer clothes. Shifting his head to the left, he deepened the kiss. He couldn't taste enough. Erotic swipes of his tongue glided against smooth inner tissues and teeth then dipped in again and sucked. Lips meshed. He hadn't realized how careful he'd had to be when kissing Theron. Brett didn't have razor-sharp teeth. He ate at Brett's mouth, demanding, hungry for more. He rolled his pelvis. Friction warmed his cock as it pulsed behind the fly of his jeans. Yeah, he wanted much, much more.
Brett grasped his buttocks. "Now do you want to fuck me?" Tongue rubbed tongue, slow then hard thrusts hinting at the intended promise of a night together weaving between them.
Take him to a private room. I'll join you there.
Rowan jerked his mouth away. He flinched, stepping away from Brett as if he'd been burned. "No!"
A dark shadow fell across Brett's face. "I wasn't insisting on anything. And you kissed me."
A lump like a boulder lodged in Rowan's gut. "You don't understand. It's not you."
Brett focused over Rowan's right shoulder.
Prickles tingled along Rowan's spine. He didn't have to turn around to know why the atmosphere around them charged with tension. Theron.
He stepped in close behind Rowan and rested a hand on his shoulder. "I see you've found someone to join us." Good choice. I can smell his musk. He's hot for you.
Brett's gaze shifted between them, recognition dawning. Members of The Catacombs had to go through Tac. To humans, he was a complex, secretive business owner who protected his establishment. He provided gay men a safe location to explore and be accepted in a dark sexual world of kink and fetishes.
"Rowan, I didn't realize you were involved."
Theron's grip tightened. Foolish and dangerous. You know better. No names.
"I'm only involved when my cock is," Rowan said.
Theron burst out laughing. "Well, I think your cock could be persuaded." I'm hard, hungry and need you, now.
"I'm working." He glanced over his shoulder. Members crowded around the bar. Two other bartenders handled drinks but without the flair and style he brought to the job. Flair bartending was the only show he gave. The scene playing out between the three of them held several vampires' rapt attention. Neither sex nor a situation with Theron was going to be the night's entertainment. Damn it. He knew better than to start what he was unwilling to finish. And he wasn't willing to play in Tac's playground. Their connection was personal and private. That vampires knew he was a blood slave was enough.
"I'm not opposed to joining the two of you." Brett smiled.
Will he let me fuck him just so he can fuck you? Interesting. I think we should put it to the test.
"No."
"Ah, no big deal." But it was and Rowan could see the disappointment in the downturn of Brett's smile and the shrug of his shoulders.
Rowan stepped forward and slammed his mouth over Brett's. He thrust his tongue between his lips in wild possession. Hot, sexy and full of erotic intention. He cupped Brett's cock and rubbed his palm over the erect length. Damn, the man was thick, long and hard. His mouth watered and his anus clenched.
You want him. Take him.
He ignored the voice in his head. "I do want to fuck you. Not here."
No.
Brett ran his fingers over Rowan's abdominals. Quivers rippled along his flesh. "I wish I could, but I can't." He turned his focus to Tac. "Another time, perhaps."
Tac grinned. "I certainly hope so."
Tuesday, June 23, 2009
And the winner is . . . . SiNn!
Please email me at kyannwaters@hotmail.com
thank you to everyone who stopped by and smelled the roses.
Now . . .
For a second chance contest, visit my website. Tell me the names of my 2 dogs. Email your answers to kyannwaters@hotmail.com.
Winner will recieve the Ellora's Cave card deck of covers.
Please put Blog Contest in the subject of your email.
Thanks
KyAnn
Please email me at kyannwaters@hotmail.com
thank you to everyone who stopped by and smelled the roses.
Now . . .
For a second chance contest, visit my website. Tell me the names of my 2 dogs. Email your answers to kyannwaters@hotmail.com.
Winner will recieve the Ellora's Cave card deck of covers.
Please put Blog Contest in the subject of your email.
Thanks
KyAnn
Monday, June 22, 2009
Stop and Smell the Roses Blog Bouquet
I want to tell you about my upcoming release with the Wilder Roses:
Executive Positions by KyAnn Waters
Leave a comment today for your chance to win an envelope stuffed with fun stuff including a semi precious gemstone and crystal bookthong and a special surprise. Keep reading to find out what. ;)
Blurb:
Four years of foreplay is enough...
Avril Blanco experiences several positions with a sexy, driven executive in the advertising firm of William Carver. The complication... Monday morning the determined and powerful man will be her boss.
Ian Carver is taking over as CEO for his ailing father. His first executive decision—renegotiate Avril’s job description. He’s looking for a partner, in and out of bed.
But will she risk the reputation of sleeping her way to the top?
So I live in Utah and recently I was on the telephone with a friend in another state. I was making my kids lunch and asked if they wanted fry sauce or ketchup. She asked, "So what is fry sauce?"
And I told her about "Some Dudes Fry Sauce" Yes - that is the name of the tasty sauce for french fries, burgers, chips, fish, and any other food made for dipping. Here is proof and also a place where you can order -
http://somedudesfrysauce.com
So today's winner will also get a tasty bottle of Some Dude's Fry Sauce so they can enjoy a real Utah original.
So leave me a comment for your chance to win.
Are there any strange foods or activities in your town? (you can leave me a comment about anything)
I'll draw my winner Tuesday morning.
Stop by these participating author blogs for more chances to win prizes today!
http://AnnWhitaker.blogspot.com
http://bethcaudill.blogspot.com
http://blog.skhyemoncrief.com
http://catemasters.blogspot.com
http://christinecolumbus.blogspot.com
http://donnamichaelsauthor.blogspot.com
http://happyendingsblog.com
http://KyAnnWaters.blogspot.com
http://laurirobinson.blogspot.com
http://lindabanche.blogspot.com
http://lynnreynolds.blogspot.com
http://marywritesromance.blogspot.com
http://melanieatkins.wordpress.com
http://missmaesite.blogspot.com
http://nicolemccaffrey.blogspot.com
http://plparker.blogspot.com
http://romanticcravings.blogspot.com
http://roniadams.blogspot.com
http://sherilewiswohl.wordpress.com
http://skypuringtonwrites.blogspot.com
I want to tell you about my upcoming release with the Wilder Roses:
Executive Positions by KyAnn Waters
Leave a comment today for your chance to win an envelope stuffed with fun stuff including a semi precious gemstone and crystal bookthong and a special surprise. Keep reading to find out what. ;)
Blurb:
Four years of foreplay is enough...
Avril Blanco experiences several positions with a sexy, driven executive in the advertising firm of William Carver. The complication... Monday morning the determined and powerful man will be her boss.
Ian Carver is taking over as CEO for his ailing father. His first executive decision—renegotiate Avril’s job description. He’s looking for a partner, in and out of bed.
But will she risk the reputation of sleeping her way to the top?
So I live in Utah and recently I was on the telephone with a friend in another state. I was making my kids lunch and asked if they wanted fry sauce or ketchup. She asked, "So what is fry sauce?"
And I told her about "Some Dudes Fry Sauce" Yes - that is the name of the tasty sauce for french fries, burgers, chips, fish, and any other food made for dipping. Here is proof and also a place where you can order -
http://somedudesfrysauce.com
So today's winner will also get a tasty bottle of Some Dude's Fry Sauce so they can enjoy a real Utah original.
So leave me a comment for your chance to win.
Are there any strange foods or activities in your town? (you can leave me a comment about anything)
I'll draw my winner Tuesday morning.
Stop by these participating author blogs for more chances to win prizes today!
http://AnnWhitaker.blogspot.com
http://bethcaudill.blogspot.com
http://blog.skhyemoncrief.com
http://catemasters.blogspot.com
http://christinecolumbus.blogspot.com
http://donnamichaelsauthor.blogspot.com
http://happyendingsblog.com
http://KyAnnWaters.blogspot.com
http://laurirobinson.blogspot.com
http://lindabanche.blogspot.com
http://lynnreynolds.blogspot.com
http://marywritesromance.blogspot.com
http://melanieatkins.wordpress.com
http://missmaesite.blogspot.com
http://nicolemccaffrey.blogspot.com
http://plparker.blogspot.com
http://romanticcravings.blogspot.com
http://roniadams.blogspot.com
http://sherilewiswohl.wordpress.com
http://skypuringtonwrites.blogspot.com
Monday, June 01, 2009
Come join Liza James, KyAnn Waters, Desiree Holt, Meagan Hatfield, and Eden Rivers celebrate the launch of our blog, Romantic Cravings!
We plan to post every Monday and will have some amazing guests, so check back often! http://romanticcravings.blogspot.com/
Today stop by for a book craving - - Hot For Teacher by Liza James - - just released from eRedSage.com
We plan to post every Monday and will have some amazing guests, so check back often! http://romanticcravings.blogspot.com/
Today stop by for a book craving - - Hot For Teacher by Liza James - - just released from eRedSage.com
Wednesday, May 20, 2009
What is a Dick?
LOL bet that subject has you laughing.
So here is the story.
My son is in 5th grade. a naive 11. The class had the brilliant idea to watch a movie for their end of year celebration. So my son was introduced to Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure.
I ask him how he liked the movie. (it's been a long time since I've seen it. I remember something about a phone book and a trench coat and I don't think I'm remembering superman although I can't be sure. :)) He tells me plenty of funny aspects of the movie then tilts his head to the side and ask me what it means to call someone a dick? I paused then said. Hmmm, let me ask your dad.
So I ask Sean, should I tell him it's short for Richard or do I tell him it references a part of the male anatomy? I certainly don't want him running around calling everyone named Richard, Dick. but the alternative is to tell him that yep, you can insult someone by calling him another term for your private parts. Well we opted for the truth and told him he's not old enough to use the word and it goes into the same mental word file for future use when he's older as shithead, fucker, and sooo many other enlightened terms he's come home from school with.
LOL bet that subject has you laughing.
So here is the story.
My son is in 5th grade. a naive 11. The class had the brilliant idea to watch a movie for their end of year celebration. So my son was introduced to Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure.
I ask him how he liked the movie. (it's been a long time since I've seen it. I remember something about a phone book and a trench coat and I don't think I'm remembering superman although I can't be sure. :)) He tells me plenty of funny aspects of the movie then tilts his head to the side and ask me what it means to call someone a dick? I paused then said. Hmmm, let me ask your dad.
So I ask Sean, should I tell him it's short for Richard or do I tell him it references a part of the male anatomy? I certainly don't want him running around calling everyone named Richard, Dick. but the alternative is to tell him that yep, you can insult someone by calling him another term for your private parts. Well we opted for the truth and told him he's not old enough to use the word and it goes into the same mental word file for future use when he's older as shithead, fucker, and sooo many other enlightened terms he's come home from school with.
Tuesday, May 05, 2009
Wanderlust released today!
The world is waiting for her…and he’s waited long enough.
Four years ago he had his chance for a relationship with her. Instead, he joined the military, leaving her to endure Milcott, South Dakota on her own. Now it’s her turn for adventure and a chance to banish those erotic Cory fantasies once and for all—on a singles cruise to Jamaica.
Cory has come home for what he’d denied himself four years before. Meg. But she’s made it clear she wants anyone except him. There’s only one way to show her that what she wants and what she needs are two different things. How? Storm the beaches of Jamaica. Infiltrate his way into her bed. Breach the walls of her heart.
And show her that paradise is not in the Caribbean, but in his arms.
Excerpt:
Cory realized two things—he wasn't in bed and he wasn't alone. Meg's butt bumped up against him. "Morning." He reached for her hip, but instead of the soft texture of her skirt or better, her smooth, bare thigh, he felt the roughness of denim.
"Good morning, baby," a deep, masculine voice said. A whiskered face placed a wet kiss on his cheek."Get off!" He kicked at Jake and pushed him off the couch.
"Get off me." Cory sat up. "Ow." He grabbed the top of his head and squeezed. "Tylenol." He fell back onto the couch while pointing to the kitchen.
Jake's chuckle pissed him off. Hangovers were a bitch, and he had the mother of all time hammering the inside of his head. Sharp pain stabbed into his temples and sunlight coming through the windows blinded him.
"When did Meg leave?" Cory asked.
"You, my brother, should know that better than I." Jake handed him two Tylenol and a glass of water. "So how did the date go last night?"
He raked his fingers through his hair and moaned. Even his hair hurt. He hadn't had that much to drink. Upon reflection, it had been a rather large bottle of wine.
"The date was a disaster."
"We told you Meg wanted more than mood music. The girl wants to feel special. Pizza and a movie are banal. You blew it, brother."
"Shut up." He popped the pills in his mouth and washed them down. "I really just wanted to spend time alone with her. It wasn't about sex."
"Then I take it you didn't get laid.
"It cost him, but he narrowed his eyes at Jake. "Meg's different and you know it." Cory leaned forward and braced his elbows on his knees. "I don't know what to do. Maybe I need a woman's perspective. Where's Sara?"
Jake nodded to the wall adjoining Cory's duplex and Meg's.
A low groan rolled from his chest as he stretched. "I'm not cooking and I'm not eating in Meg's kitchen. This morning Big Bird's Cafe is on the menu." Big Bird's served up delicious blueberry pancakes. But they were famous for their pheasant pot pie.
"I'm sure Meg will go so long as pizza isn't on the menu." Jake laughed.
Cory and Jake crossed the porch to Meg's side of the duplex.
Before the door was open, laughter could be heard from inside.
Sara squealed and launched herself into Jake's arms. "You'll never guess where I'm going." She turned her head and smiled at Meg. "Where we are going." She let go of Jake, but kept her hands on his chest. "Now, you might not like all the details." Her fingers walked over his pectorals. "But remember I'm doing this for my cousin. I need to support her and I also wouldn't want her to go on her own."
Jake smiled, but Cory had the distinct feeling he wasn't going to like what he was about to hear. Meg sat too quietly and appeared to be busy on her laptop. No, she was up to something."
So anyway, Meg found this absolutely fabulous deal on a cruise to the western Caribbean on eBay." Sara quickly kissed Jake to keep him from dissenting.
"Kiss him a bit longer," Meg said, and then chuckled. "He isn't going to like that it's a singles cruise."
"What?" Cory propped a shoulder against the doorjamb and crossed his arms over his chest. "No way." He tried to appear casual even though his internal body temperature spiked. He could just imagine the reception Meg would receive on a singles cruise. She wore those damn miniscule bikinis. Men would hover, waiting for her to show just a hint of interest. Then they would seize any opportunity to sample her.
"What?" This time it was Meg's turn to sound outraged. "It's none of your business. This is between Jake and Sara." She cocked an eyebrow. "I'm going regardless of what you think. I certainly am none of your business."
"Not the way I see it."
"No fighting you two." Sara disengaged herself from Jake. "Calm down. It's not a big deal. These ships plan events and everything is on the up and up. I can't very well let my best friend go alone."
"Exactly." Meg smiled. "Besides the tickets are already paid for. No refunds and we're looking for airfare now." She clicked a few more keys.
"We sail in three days." Sara squealed again. "I am so excited. I haven't had a vacation in years." She turned her lips into a pout. "And remember Meg couldn't come when we all went to Colorado."
"Are you nuts?" Jake asked with his brows furrowed tightly. "Don't bring that up. The girl carried a grudge for two years against Cory and me. We were only acting as chaperones."
"We're old enough not to need chaperones now." Meg bristled.
"Meg's right," Sara said. "And we don't need you to buy the booze anymore."
Jake's shoulders slumped and Cory knew the battle was over. Meg would never let them forget how they'd left her. It wasn't their fault she'd contracted chicken pox. She had to be quarantined anyway. Rather than cancel everyone's good time, they'd loaded into Steve Baxter's van and drove ten hours straight to Denver for a Matchbox Twenty concert at Red Rocks Amphitheater. He knew Meg had dreamt of Rob Thomas for months. She dreamt about all the men she found attractive. Whereas she'd been the only woman who'd ever made it into his fantasies. Of course he'd never tell her she'd been the object of every one of his teenage wet dreams. Especially since he was still having them.
"I found airfare for less than three hundred a ticket." Meg held her hand out to Sara. "Give me your credit card."
Sara tossed Meg her wallet.
"I'm paying for the airfare?" Jake asked."We're paying for it. Meg paid for the cruise ticket. It comes out even." Sara nuzzled her nose into Jake's neck.
Cory rolled his eyes. "That's what you get when you commingle money." He stuffed his fists into his front pockets. "Are we going to eat?"
"I told you Cory would be crotchety this morning." Meg handed Sara back her wallet. "Okay, we're set."
"Men aren't crotchety," Cory said. "Women are. Men are short-tempered, and you are testing mine."
Meg made her lips an O. "Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed."
Waking on the wrong side of the bed would have been an improvement so long as she had still been there. Instead, she'd just booked herself on a singles cruise. It didn't matter that he had a hangover, didn't matter that Meg and Sara didn't want to go to Big Bird's—his stomach wouldn't let him eat anyway.
For the rest of the morning Sara and Meg planned and plotted their cruise. Lucky Cory, he would have the pleasure of driving them to the airport. After last night, he had to convince her that what she wanted wasn't on a singles cruise, but standing in front of her.
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
So I think it's pretty clear I'm really terrible at keeping up my blog. lol. But I'm home from RT and I have some news. I have a newly contracted story.
Executive Positions
By KyAnn Waters
Four years of foreplay is enough . . .
Avril Blanco experiences several positions with a sexy, driven executive in the advertising firm of William Carver. The complication...Monday morning the determined and powerful man will be her boss.
Ian Carver is taking over as CEO for his ailing father. His first executive decision—renegotiate Avril’s job description. He’s looking for a partner, in and out of bed.
But will she risk the reputation of sleeping her way to the top?
Unedited excerpt and may vary from final version.
Damn, his movements were deliberate and sexy. He stalked toward her with the determination of a predator, stealing the air from her lungs. “It’s a pleasure to see you again,” he said. His heated baritone was a mixture of confidence and raw sexuality.
“Welcome home and welcome aboard.” Avril Blanco extended her hand as a slow tentative smile found her lips.
“Thank you.” The newest addition to the William Carver advertising firm grasped her hand and the fine hairs on her arm tingled. He didn’t shake, but held her gently with his long fingers, his thumb grazing the tender flesh on the top of her hand with a deliberate stroke.
She tried not to divulge the clamoring desires rioting through her, but seductive awareness fluttered in her chest and made her nipples tighten. His intense stare locked on her face and she melted—just a little. To reveal to him he had a profound physical and sexual affect on the state of her panties would be tantamount to professional suicide. After all, Ian Carver was the boss’s son.
“Ms. Blanco, we’ll be working together.”
Yes, she was well aware of that—was well aware of him. She smiled, keeping her professional demeanor in place when all she really wanted to do is ask him to talk dirty to her with that voice, deep yet smooth like aged brandy. “You can call me Avril.” She tipped her champagne flute to him in a toast then sipped. “But as your father said, tonight is a celebration so no discussions of work.” However, that was probably the only safe subject considering the directions her thoughts were taking her. She’d been half in love with Ian for four years. Revealing that now would have her looking for a new job and she was just getting used to her executive office.
Ian hitched a hip against the conference table. His olive-toned suit coat parted giving her a glimpse of his muscular linen-covered chest. He sipped his champagne and his Adam’s apple bobbed. “I like that idea.” He gave her one of those smiles that warmed her and weakened her knees. A dimple creased his left cheek through his five-o’clock shadow. “We’re finally going to be able to get to know each other better.”
Executive Positions
By KyAnn Waters
Four years of foreplay is enough . . .
Avril Blanco experiences several positions with a sexy, driven executive in the advertising firm of William Carver. The complication...Monday morning the determined and powerful man will be her boss.
Ian Carver is taking over as CEO for his ailing father. His first executive decision—renegotiate Avril’s job description. He’s looking for a partner, in and out of bed.
But will she risk the reputation of sleeping her way to the top?
Unedited excerpt and may vary from final version.
Damn, his movements were deliberate and sexy. He stalked toward her with the determination of a predator, stealing the air from her lungs. “It’s a pleasure to see you again,” he said. His heated baritone was a mixture of confidence and raw sexuality.
“Welcome home and welcome aboard.” Avril Blanco extended her hand as a slow tentative smile found her lips.
“Thank you.” The newest addition to the William Carver advertising firm grasped her hand and the fine hairs on her arm tingled. He didn’t shake, but held her gently with his long fingers, his thumb grazing the tender flesh on the top of her hand with a deliberate stroke.
She tried not to divulge the clamoring desires rioting through her, but seductive awareness fluttered in her chest and made her nipples tighten. His intense stare locked on her face and she melted—just a little. To reveal to him he had a profound physical and sexual affect on the state of her panties would be tantamount to professional suicide. After all, Ian Carver was the boss’s son.
“Ms. Blanco, we’ll be working together.”
Yes, she was well aware of that—was well aware of him. She smiled, keeping her professional demeanor in place when all she really wanted to do is ask him to talk dirty to her with that voice, deep yet smooth like aged brandy. “You can call me Avril.” She tipped her champagne flute to him in a toast then sipped. “But as your father said, tonight is a celebration so no discussions of work.” However, that was probably the only safe subject considering the directions her thoughts were taking her. She’d been half in love with Ian for four years. Revealing that now would have her looking for a new job and she was just getting used to her executive office.
Ian hitched a hip against the conference table. His olive-toned suit coat parted giving her a glimpse of his muscular linen-covered chest. He sipped his champagne and his Adam’s apple bobbed. “I like that idea.” He gave her one of those smiles that warmed her and weakened her knees. A dimple creased his left cheek through his five-o’clock shadow. “We’re finally going to be able to get to know each other better.”
Wednesday, March 04, 2009
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
It's a Hard Ride Home.
And it's finally here!
my first m/m erotic novel.
www.EllorasCave.com
After a seven-year absence, only a catastrophic event could bring Trace Tilton home to Farley Gulch — like his father having a heart attack. Once Bud's on the mend, Trace plans to leave the Triple T Ranch again. He's certain his gruff father will never accept his…lifestyle.
Triple T foreman Nash Stokes thinks Farley Gulch is the ideal place for a man to live a simple life — and keep his sexual preference a secret. A hot roll in the hay with his boss's gorgeous son is the last thing he expected.Before long, scorching passion and small-town rumor find both men taking a Hard Ride Home.
Excerpt:
What had possessed Trace to ask Nash to the bar?
If he tried, he could convince himself he'd made the invitation to provide a barrier between him, Colette and the rest of the town. He didn't want to rekindle past friendships. Maybe if he planned to stay, but realistically it wouldn't work. He enjoyed men, liked to work out at the gym with his friends, enjoyed a good meal at a nice restaurant. And if he went on a date and the night ended in bed, all the better.
Heading down the hall to his old room, he passed by the cracked-open bathroom door and froze. Steam clouded the mirror. Pipes rattled under the water pressure. There was no mistaking Nash on the other side of the glass shower door. His head tipped back, water and shampoo suds sluicing over his body.
Trace couldn't turn or walk away. Breathing became difficult. His heart hammered in his chest. The man was fucking gorgeous. Solid muscle, long legs with heavy thighs and dark whorls of hair on his pectorals. A thin ribbon of hair trailed down his stomach and surrounded a beautiful cock. Christ. Nash's balls hung heavy in a dark sac. He swallowed hard. Nash reached down and shut off the water.
Trace turned away and leaned against the hallway wall. He tried to quiet his labored breathing. But his heart raced and chills broke along his skin. Adrenaline pumped through his veins. The shower door opened and the creak of the towel rack gave Trace a perfect idea of what was happening on the other side of the wall.
The last thing he needed was for the rough cowboy to discover him with a hard-on in his pants. He quickly walked down the hall to his room.
Opening the door, he realized his hand shook.
Well, hell. Apparently, he didn't have a room anymore.
Trace glanced down the hall toward the bathroom. Nash stood a few feet away with a towel wrapped around his waist. Water dripped from his hair. Several strands clung to the bronzed skin of his neck.
"You moved into my old room?"
Nash approached. Trace liked the way the towel parted, teasing him with a glimpse of thigh. Black hair on his calves and shins also covered his upper legs. Trace liked manly men. Nothing feminine. He wanted aggression, testosterone and a big tool. Nash had it all in spades.
"Didn't know this was your room." Nash brushed past him and Trace caught a whiff of soap and male. He stopped just inside the room and turned to Trace. Their eyes locked.
A lump the size of a boulder lodged in Trace's throat. Normally he wasn't at a loss for words. Yet he stood at the threshold of his old room filled with Nash's belongings and tried to think of something to say—anything—because Nash waited there naked with the exception of the terrycloth towel. Clean-shaven, wet hair slicked back and his skin carrying a healthy flush from the hot water.
Awkward silence stretched between the two men. Trace couldn't help noticing the growing bulge behind the towel. Picking up guys in a gay bar or introductions made through friends didn't require a declaration of sexual preference. But shit if he could tell what rumbled around in Nash's head. Normal intuition failed. He wasn't getting the vibe. The one that expressed interest.
Yet, straight men didn't tend to make eye contact with other men when wearing a towel and sporting a boner.
"I'm getting dressed." Nash loosened the towel.
Trace forgot to breathe. His heart pounded and his cock jumped. Muscles in his ass clenched with need. Saliva filled his mouth with want of sucking Nash off. A muscle in his jaw jumped as he clenched his teeth—hard.
Nash's eyebrow rose in question. "Did you need something?"
Leave me a comment, tell me who you think sounds yummier, Trace or Nash, tell me your plans for the Holidays or tell me what you want for Christmas. Any comment will do. :)
KyAnn
And it's finally here!
my first m/m erotic novel.
www.EllorasCave.com
After a seven-year absence, only a catastrophic event could bring Trace Tilton home to Farley Gulch — like his father having a heart attack. Once Bud's on the mend, Trace plans to leave the Triple T Ranch again. He's certain his gruff father will never accept his…lifestyle.
Triple T foreman Nash Stokes thinks Farley Gulch is the ideal place for a man to live a simple life — and keep his sexual preference a secret. A hot roll in the hay with his boss's gorgeous son is the last thing he expected.Before long, scorching passion and small-town rumor find both men taking a Hard Ride Home.
Excerpt:
What had possessed Trace to ask Nash to the bar?
If he tried, he could convince himself he'd made the invitation to provide a barrier between him, Colette and the rest of the town. He didn't want to rekindle past friendships. Maybe if he planned to stay, but realistically it wouldn't work. He enjoyed men, liked to work out at the gym with his friends, enjoyed a good meal at a nice restaurant. And if he went on a date and the night ended in bed, all the better.
Heading down the hall to his old room, he passed by the cracked-open bathroom door and froze. Steam clouded the mirror. Pipes rattled under the water pressure. There was no mistaking Nash on the other side of the glass shower door. His head tipped back, water and shampoo suds sluicing over his body.
Trace couldn't turn or walk away. Breathing became difficult. His heart hammered in his chest. The man was fucking gorgeous. Solid muscle, long legs with heavy thighs and dark whorls of hair on his pectorals. A thin ribbon of hair trailed down his stomach and surrounded a beautiful cock. Christ. Nash's balls hung heavy in a dark sac. He swallowed hard. Nash reached down and shut off the water.
Trace turned away and leaned against the hallway wall. He tried to quiet his labored breathing. But his heart raced and chills broke along his skin. Adrenaline pumped through his veins. The shower door opened and the creak of the towel rack gave Trace a perfect idea of what was happening on the other side of the wall.
The last thing he needed was for the rough cowboy to discover him with a hard-on in his pants. He quickly walked down the hall to his room.
Opening the door, he realized his hand shook.
Well, hell. Apparently, he didn't have a room anymore.
Trace glanced down the hall toward the bathroom. Nash stood a few feet away with a towel wrapped around his waist. Water dripped from his hair. Several strands clung to the bronzed skin of his neck.
"You moved into my old room?"
Nash approached. Trace liked the way the towel parted, teasing him with a glimpse of thigh. Black hair on his calves and shins also covered his upper legs. Trace liked manly men. Nothing feminine. He wanted aggression, testosterone and a big tool. Nash had it all in spades.
"Didn't know this was your room." Nash brushed past him and Trace caught a whiff of soap and male. He stopped just inside the room and turned to Trace. Their eyes locked.
A lump the size of a boulder lodged in Trace's throat. Normally he wasn't at a loss for words. Yet he stood at the threshold of his old room filled with Nash's belongings and tried to think of something to say—anything—because Nash waited there naked with the exception of the terrycloth towel. Clean-shaven, wet hair slicked back and his skin carrying a healthy flush from the hot water.
Awkward silence stretched between the two men. Trace couldn't help noticing the growing bulge behind the towel. Picking up guys in a gay bar or introductions made through friends didn't require a declaration of sexual preference. But shit if he could tell what rumbled around in Nash's head. Normal intuition failed. He wasn't getting the vibe. The one that expressed interest.
Yet, straight men didn't tend to make eye contact with other men when wearing a towel and sporting a boner.
"I'm getting dressed." Nash loosened the towel.
Trace forgot to breathe. His heart pounded and his cock jumped. Muscles in his ass clenched with need. Saliva filled his mouth with want of sucking Nash off. A muscle in his jaw jumped as he clenched his teeth—hard.
Nash's eyebrow rose in question. "Did you need something?"
Leave me a comment, tell me who you think sounds yummier, Trace or Nash, tell me your plans for the Holidays or tell me what you want for Christmas. Any comment will do. :)
KyAnn
Sunday, December 07, 2008
Post for Monday Dec, 8 Christmas Ride Blog Event!
Hang the Mistletoe and pucker up!
Mistletoe is also known as the golden bough and once held sacred by Celtic Druids and Norseman. The potent plant was once called Allheal and used in folk medicine and Native Americans used it for toothache, measles and dog bites. In Scandinavian antiquity it a peace plant. If enemies met by chance beneath it in a forest, they agreed on a truce until the next day.
5 days after the New Moon following winter solstice, Mistletoe was used by the Druid priesthood in a special ceremony. Mistletoe would be cut from a holy oak tree with a golden sickle and the branches caught before they hitting the ground. The branches were divided into many sprigs and given to people to hang over their doorways for protection a against thunder, lightning and other evils. Over the years, the magic of this plant has taken many forms such as placing a sprig in a baby's cradle to protect the infant from faeries. Or giving a sprig to the first cow calving after New Year to protect the herd.
But how did it come to mean a kiss?
Although many sources say that kissing under the mistletoe is an English custom, there's another explanation for its origin. In Norse mythology there is a story of a loving, if overprotective, mother.
Frigga was mother to the Norse god Balder, the best loved of all the gods. Frigga was the goddess of love and beauty and she loved her son. To ensure no harm would come to him, she went through the world securing promises from everything that sprang from the four elements--fire, water, air, and earth--that they would not harm her beloved Balder.
Leave it to Loki, a mischievous spirit, to find the loophole. Mistletoe and an arrow made from its wood. To make the prank even nastier, he took the arrow to Hoder, Balder's brother, who was blind. Guiding Holder's hand, Loki directed the arrow at Balder's heart, and Balder fell dead.
Frigga's tears became the mistletoe's white berries. In the version of the story with a happy ending, Balder is restored to life, and Frigga is so grateful that she reverses the murderous reputation of Mistletoe--making it a symbol of love and promising to bestow a kiss upon anyone who passes under it.
Information gleaned from numerous online searches for mistletoe lore.
Those who leave a comment today will be entered to receive a digital download. I’ll choose a winner for every 10 comments posted. 30 comments = 3 winners so spread the word about the Christmas Ride blog event. (see end of this blog post for choices of ebooks)
Your next stop on this Christmas Ride is Meagan Hatfield http://www.meaganhatfield.blogspot.com/
And if you’ve missed stops or have gotten lost along the way, here is where the ride has been spreading Christmas cheer. Collect the songs to enter the grand prize drawing. One lucky person will win a $75 Wild Rose Press gift certificate! All you need to do to enter is attend each day's blog post, identify the carol, and make a complete carol list to submit after the final blog post of Christmas Eve. Don't forget to check the list twice! Send it to Christmasrideblog@live.com by midnight, CST Dec. 31st 2008!
Here is the hint (lyrics) to my song choice for the grand prize. Good Luck in the contest.
Oh, you'll be my spring ahead, my fall behind
The shimmy on my hips oh when I, bump and grind
You'll be my Santa Boy, all dressed in red
And ride that little reindeer all through my head
Oh, ooh, here we go, oh yeah
This year I'm gonna take you home
This year I don't wanna be alone
Nov 29 PL Parker - http://plparker.blogspot.com/
Nov 30 Lynn Reynolds - http://lynnreynolds.blogspot.com/
Dec 1 WRP - http://thewildrosepress.blogspot.com/
Dec 2 Michele Hart - http://michelehart.blogspot.com/
Dec 3 2 today! - Teri Wilson - http://www.freewebs.com/teriwilson/terisblog.htm
Elaine Cantrell - http://www.elainepcantrell.blogspot.com/
Dec 4 Roni Adams - http://thewildrosepress.blogspot.com/
Dec 5 Stacy Dawn - http://www.stacydawn.blogspot.com/
Dec 6 Susanne Saville - http://myblog.susannesaville.com/
Dec 7 Beth Caudill http://bethcaudill.blogspot.com/
Today’s winners can choose from
Delicious Darkness,
Hot Blooded,
The Cougar Meets Her Master,
Eternal Rapture, or
All Lycan’s Eve
For non-erotic titles, winner could choose any title from Lisa Dawn MacDonald
Marion’s Train,
Secret Surrender,
Wild Fires,
Crashed
Please list your email address in your post or check back Tuesday morning for the winners.
Hang the Mistletoe and pucker up!
Mistletoe is also known as the golden bough and once held sacred by Celtic Druids and Norseman. The potent plant was once called Allheal and used in folk medicine and Native Americans used it for toothache, measles and dog bites. In Scandinavian antiquity it a peace plant. If enemies met by chance beneath it in a forest, they agreed on a truce until the next day.
5 days after the New Moon following winter solstice, Mistletoe was used by the Druid priesthood in a special ceremony. Mistletoe would be cut from a holy oak tree with a golden sickle and the branches caught before they hitting the ground. The branches were divided into many sprigs and given to people to hang over their doorways for protection a against thunder, lightning and other evils. Over the years, the magic of this plant has taken many forms such as placing a sprig in a baby's cradle to protect the infant from faeries. Or giving a sprig to the first cow calving after New Year to protect the herd.
But how did it come to mean a kiss?
Although many sources say that kissing under the mistletoe is an English custom, there's another explanation for its origin. In Norse mythology there is a story of a loving, if overprotective, mother.
Frigga was mother to the Norse god Balder, the best loved of all the gods. Frigga was the goddess of love and beauty and she loved her son. To ensure no harm would come to him, she went through the world securing promises from everything that sprang from the four elements--fire, water, air, and earth--that they would not harm her beloved Balder.
Leave it to Loki, a mischievous spirit, to find the loophole. Mistletoe and an arrow made from its wood. To make the prank even nastier, he took the arrow to Hoder, Balder's brother, who was blind. Guiding Holder's hand, Loki directed the arrow at Balder's heart, and Balder fell dead.
Frigga's tears became the mistletoe's white berries. In the version of the story with a happy ending, Balder is restored to life, and Frigga is so grateful that she reverses the murderous reputation of Mistletoe--making it a symbol of love and promising to bestow a kiss upon anyone who passes under it.
Information gleaned from numerous online searches for mistletoe lore.
Those who leave a comment today will be entered to receive a digital download. I’ll choose a winner for every 10 comments posted. 30 comments = 3 winners so spread the word about the Christmas Ride blog event. (see end of this blog post for choices of ebooks)
Your next stop on this Christmas Ride is Meagan Hatfield http://www.meaganhatfield.blogspot.com/
And if you’ve missed stops or have gotten lost along the way, here is where the ride has been spreading Christmas cheer. Collect the songs to enter the grand prize drawing. One lucky person will win a $75 Wild Rose Press gift certificate! All you need to do to enter is attend each day's blog post, identify the carol, and make a complete carol list to submit after the final blog post of Christmas Eve. Don't forget to check the list twice! Send it to Christmasrideblog@live.com by midnight, CST Dec. 31st 2008!
Here is the hint (lyrics) to my song choice for the grand prize. Good Luck in the contest.
Oh, you'll be my spring ahead, my fall behind
The shimmy on my hips oh when I, bump and grind
You'll be my Santa Boy, all dressed in red
And ride that little reindeer all through my head
Oh, ooh, here we go, oh yeah
This year I'm gonna take you home
This year I don't wanna be alone
Nov 29 PL Parker - http://plparker.blogspot.com/
Nov 30 Lynn Reynolds - http://lynnreynolds.blogspot.com/
Dec 1 WRP - http://thewildrosepress.blogspot.com/
Dec 2 Michele Hart - http://michelehart.blogspot.com/
Dec 3 2 today! - Teri Wilson - http://www.freewebs.com/teriwilson/terisblog.htm
Elaine Cantrell - http://www.elainepcantrell.blogspot.com/
Dec 4 Roni Adams - http://thewildrosepress.blogspot.com/
Dec 5 Stacy Dawn - http://www.stacydawn.blogspot.com/
Dec 6 Susanne Saville - http://myblog.susannesaville.com/
Dec 7 Beth Caudill http://bethcaudill.blogspot.com/
Today’s winners can choose from
Delicious Darkness,
Hot Blooded,
The Cougar Meets Her Master,
Eternal Rapture, or
All Lycan’s Eve
For non-erotic titles, winner could choose any title from Lisa Dawn MacDonald
Marion’s Train,
Secret Surrender,
Wild Fires,
Crashed
Please list your email address in your post or check back Tuesday morning for the winners.
Sunday, November 16, 2008
Is the old adage true? Life is not a romance novel . . . or is it?
From sweet stories about the first blush of love to those sultry stories that give you tummy tugs and make your squirm on your chair, romance stories inspire and titillate. Whether reading a great romantic suspense or a magical fantasy romance, you imagine yourself as the heroine and are carried away into the whimsy and imagination of the author. The hero is handsome, strong, intelligent and resourceful. If you’re reading one of my stories, he’s wielding an impressive weapon (and yes, I’m talking about that weapon) and his skills are unmatched. Now you have to wonder…where in the hell are all the real life heroes?
Reality—men are often in a hurry and thank god, because the kids want dinner and the laundry needs folded. And if you even think about a little midnight affection, be prepared to die because the alarm clock is going to scream at five a.m. and this heroine needs her beauty sleep!
I’ve heard some outrageous misconceptions, but I know why I write erotic romance. I love great sex! I love to read erotic romance because I love great sex!
I spoke to some friends who are avid readers and are happy that I write erotic romance because they love scorching heat between the pages.
I had one friend tell me that her husband is on blood pressure medication and although their marriage is good, reading my stories is the only sex she has at this point in her life.
And I was quite surprised when another friend informed me that she reads my books to her husband in bed and that it’s perfect foreplay to foreplay. (let’s just say I’ll be blushing the next time I have dinner at their house.) My next release, Hard Ride Home, is coming December 10th to Ellora’s Cave. The story is male/male erotic romance. I don’t think that one is going to have the same responses. But then you never know, because two weapons are better than one.
So are women truly looking for what they find in a book? Or are they just glad that there are authors out there willing to give them a taste of the possible? I’ve heard it said that sex can never be as good as it is in a romance novel…but I believe romance writers show readers that a romance novel is an erotic way to spice up your love life.
**first publised at www.simplyromancereviews.blogspot.com**
From sweet stories about the first blush of love to those sultry stories that give you tummy tugs and make your squirm on your chair, romance stories inspire and titillate. Whether reading a great romantic suspense or a magical fantasy romance, you imagine yourself as the heroine and are carried away into the whimsy and imagination of the author. The hero is handsome, strong, intelligent and resourceful. If you’re reading one of my stories, he’s wielding an impressive weapon (and yes, I’m talking about that weapon) and his skills are unmatched. Now you have to wonder…where in the hell are all the real life heroes?
Reality—men are often in a hurry and thank god, because the kids want dinner and the laundry needs folded. And if you even think about a little midnight affection, be prepared to die because the alarm clock is going to scream at five a.m. and this heroine needs her beauty sleep!
I’ve heard some outrageous misconceptions, but I know why I write erotic romance. I love great sex! I love to read erotic romance because I love great sex!
I spoke to some friends who are avid readers and are happy that I write erotic romance because they love scorching heat between the pages.
I had one friend tell me that her husband is on blood pressure medication and although their marriage is good, reading my stories is the only sex she has at this point in her life.
And I was quite surprised when another friend informed me that she reads my books to her husband in bed and that it’s perfect foreplay to foreplay. (let’s just say I’ll be blushing the next time I have dinner at their house.) My next release, Hard Ride Home, is coming December 10th to Ellora’s Cave. The story is male/male erotic romance. I don’t think that one is going to have the same responses. But then you never know, because two weapons are better than one.
So are women truly looking for what they find in a book? Or are they just glad that there are authors out there willing to give them a taste of the possible? I’ve heard it said that sex can never be as good as it is in a romance novel…but I believe romance writers show readers that a romance novel is an erotic way to spice up your love life.
**first publised at www.simplyromancereviews.blogspot.com**
Tuesday, November 11, 2008
It's the holiday season and in the spirit of giving, I'll be choosing random winners from my newsletter loop.
This is an announcement loop only. For your chance at winning some wonderful gifts of appreciation, please join at www.groups.yahoo.com/group/CharmingTheMuse
You don't have to do a thing. I'll be randomly drawing names from the membership of the loop. Gift certificates, downloads, print books, and "stuff"! Just a way to say thanks.
Happy Holidays
KyAnn
This is an announcement loop only. For your chance at winning some wonderful gifts of appreciation, please join at www.groups.yahoo.com/group/CharmingTheMuse
You don't have to do a thing. I'll be randomly drawing names from the membership of the loop. Gift certificates, downloads, print books, and "stuff"! Just a way to say thanks.
Happy Holidays
KyAnn
Friday, October 31, 2008
Rough Justice is here!!
~It is not Roxanne's night...but it soon will be.
~
Five miles from home, she runs out of gas. Unable to reach her best friend Jay on his cell, she calls local sheriff — and current object of lust — Ivan Soto. On the dark and deserted country road, Ivan shocks Roxie by forcing her to assume the position — against her car with her legs spread.
~
When Jay rushes to Roxie's to make sure she's made it home safely, he discovers her in the custody of Sheriff Soto, experiencing a little Rough Justice. Jay wants Roxie to have a good time, but if
Ivan wants to frisk her further, he'll have to learn to share.
~
~
What the reviewers are saying about Rough Justice.
~
"Rough Justice is an absolutely sensuous and brilliant story. There is conflict and miscommunication, plus drama, sensuality and passion. Everything needed for a fantastic read is there in the pages of this story...This is a must read story.
~
"This story was so well written, and I enjoyed every word. I would have liked it to be a little longer, but only because I wasn't ready to say goodbye to these three yet, not because of any deficiency in the plot. Ms. Waters very happily brings this group of people together in a loving, sexy, rough-and-tumble, romantic way. This book is a must-read, and then a must-read again!"
.
Excerpt:
.
Copyright © KYANN WATERS,
2008 All Rights Reserved, Ellora's Cave Publishing, Inc.
.
“Step out of the vehicle with your hands in the air.” The mechanical tone of the sheriff’s amplified voice sent a shiver down her spine.
.
“What?”
.
“Hands in the air!”
.
Roxie stared. “Is this a joke?” she yelled.
.
“Walk to the rear of your vehicle, face away from me, put your hands on your hot little sports car and spread your legs.”
.
“Are you serious?”
.
“Do it!”
.
She was under arrest! “Asshole,” she muttered. To think she was about to masturbate to the man in order to pass the time and instead he had her assuming the position. She strode to the rear of the car, put her hands above the bumper and spread her legs.
.
She heard the release of the handle as he opened the cruiser door. Gravel crunched under Sheriff Soto’s boots. Her heart hammered against her ribs with each step of his approach. Her breathing became shallow.
.
He stopped behind her. “Normally I catch you hauling ass.”
.
“I swear your radar gun has it out for me.”
.
“Yeah, could be something like that. Also might have something to do with your car. Apparently it idles at eighty.”
.
She gave a snort and glanced over her shoulder. Sheriff Soto stood, his eyes locked on her ass. With the bright spotlight she imagined he could see right through her skirt. That was an arousing thought. A rush of liquid heat flowed through her veins and a flicker of awareness pulsed in her core. A familiar effect whenever the sheriff was around. “My car isn’t even running.” She hitched a hip and tapped the toe of her boot. “I called you for a ride.” She glanced over her shoulder again. “Do you want to give me a ride, Sheriff Soto?”
.
He closed the distance between them, standing close behind her. Hot breath fanned against her flesh. “Are you soliciting a police officer? Prostitution is a felony.”
.
Her pulse jumped. “No! I didn’t say anything about paying for a ride.”“I can haul your ass in for that.”
.
“And I could lodge a complaint for police harassment.” She straightened and flipped her hair. Her knees might be weak from his authoritarian presence, but she didn’t have to show it.
.
“Is that a threat?” His voice deepened.
.
“If you weren’t on duty, I’d ask if you were drunk.” She tried to turn but he leaned into her.
.
“Technically I’m off duty as soon as I deal with a woman stranded on the side of the road.”
.
“Deal with? I’ve always been nice to you.”
.
“Oh Roxanne…I can be nice too.”
.
“Then why are you giving me a hard time?”
.
“I’m not—yet.” He nudged the side of her boot with his. “Now spread your legs.”
.
“Not the first time I’ve heard that one.”
.
He chuckled and she melted a little more. “As long as it’s the first time tonight.”
.
Oh hell, there was definitely a double meaning in that. She shivered from the press of his utility belt in her back. Everything about him was hard, including what she knew to be his cock and not his gun. The rush of blood to her pussy had her clenching in want. “I need a ride home.” Yeah, she needed a lot more than that. She shifted slightly, arched just enough to brush against him. He pressed closer and cradled his erection in the crack of her ass. “I ran out of gas.”
.
Ivan Soto had pulled her over for a speeding violation for the first time six months prior. Since then, he’d given her four tickets for speeding and more warnings than she could count. On each occasion she’d flirted shamelessly. But Sheriff Soto had always remained professional. He’d played along a bit but had never once crossed the line of professionalism. Had he given her more of an indication he was interested, she would’ve made a move weeks ago. Her panties had been wet for the hot cop since their first encounter.
.
Sheriff Soto’s hands trailed over the silky smooth material of her miniskirt. “I’ll need to search you for weapons before I can allow you into my vehicle.” His lips feathered against the shell of her ear. “How badly do you need a ride?”
Saturday, September 27, 2008
So I try not to be a complainer, but OMG, I'm going insane. For two years my left eye had become an increasing problem. It was dry, would burn, well, it started affecting how much time I could spend on the computer. so you know then it's time to do something about it. When I'd look in the mirror, my eye would be very bloodshot in the corner, then there was this small "something" for lack of a better word. sort of looked like a small blister near my iris.
Went to the family doctor, he sent me to the specialist, and last Friday I had surgery to have it removed.
holy shit, they told me it would be painful. that isn't really the problem although it's no picnic. It's that I can't see, it itches or it hurts. I never should have googled then watched the procedure on You tube. lol but the good thing is, is that the pterygium has been removed and they grafted a good piece of eyeball to the area.
Probably more than you wanted to know. one thing I have discovered is that a lot of people have this problem. So far the surgery hasn't been fun, but TWO, yes TWO! months from now when my eyeball is healed I won't have the irritated left eye.
Now I've taken to saying Arrg a lot since one eye is always closed. My husband just calls me popeye.
now you all know why I've been inactive on my blog and loops.
KyAnn
Went to the family doctor, he sent me to the specialist, and last Friday I had surgery to have it removed.
holy shit, they told me it would be painful. that isn't really the problem although it's no picnic. It's that I can't see, it itches or it hurts. I never should have googled then watched the procedure on You tube. lol but the good thing is, is that the pterygium has been removed and they grafted a good piece of eyeball to the area.
Probably more than you wanted to know. one thing I have discovered is that a lot of people have this problem. So far the surgery hasn't been fun, but TWO, yes TWO! months from now when my eyeball is healed I won't have the irritated left eye.
Now I've taken to saying Arrg a lot since one eye is always closed. My husband just calls me popeye.
now you all know why I've been inactive on my blog and loops.
KyAnn
Thursday, September 25, 2008
It's Here!!
With or Without You by KyAnn Waters
available today from Samhain Publishing!
Blurb:
The best mistake she ever made…
Tessa Brooks is dated. Not dated as in going out with men—having dinner and light conversation in poorly lit restaurants in hopes of finding someone with whom she can get naked. No, Tessa is dated. And the year she seems stuck in is 1988. The year her life changed.
With her twenty-year high school reunion coming up, Tessa’s daughter has surprised her with a makeover on the Jade Star television talk show. However, that’s not the only surprise. Enter Matt Toler, the best mistake she ever made. Tessa might not feel a ribbon of panic tightening around her neck if Matt had spoken to her again after their one-night sexual encounter…and if knew he had a daughter.
Tessa Brooks is dated. Not dated as in going out with men—having dinner and light conversation in poorly lit restaurants in hopes of finding someone with whom she can get naked. No, Tessa is dated. And the year she seems stuck in is 1988. The year her life changed.
With her twenty-year high school reunion coming up, Tessa’s daughter has surprised her with a makeover on the Jade Star television talk show. However, that’s not the only surprise. Enter Matt Toler, the best mistake she ever made. Tessa might not feel a ribbon of panic tightening around her neck if Matt had spoken to her again after their one-night sexual encounter…and if knew he had a daughter.
Excerpt:
The audience applauded. Colored strobes and flashing lights pulsed over the stage. With or Without You by U2 piped through the sound system. Tessa was transported back to prom night, 1988, and her heart skipped a beat. Brianna didn’t…wouldn’t…couldn’t… Oh God, if she did…
“Are you ready for your second clue?” Jade crooned.
Tessa didn’t need another clue. Only two men had been with her the night that song played. Please, please, please, she privately prayed. Be bachelor number one. Stan Yarrow owned and operated the local pharmacy back home. She and Stan had been friends and he’d taken her to the prom, but the real dance hadn’t taken place until much later…with bachelor number two…Matt Toler.
She swiveled around, eyes darting about searching for a face she’d prayed she’d never see again but also lingered in her thoughts more than she cared to admit. How could he not? They’d shared an incredible night…one stupid, irresponsible, romantic encounter that had changed her life.
Bright lights flashed above the audience.
Jade stood next to Tessa. “Here is your second clue.”
The voice that had haunted her dreams for the last twenty years blended with the music. Just as he sounded in 1988, Matt Toler said hello. Oh crap, it was him! He was here…somewhere. She glanced around the stage, over the audience, to the ceiling where the detached voice echoed.
Suddenly her skin grew clammy. Her attention shifted to Brianna. What in the hell had they told him to get him to come on the show? Did he remember her too? She might not feel this ribbon of panic tightening around her neck if Matt Toler had known her before April 23, 1988…or had ever spoken to her one single time after Sunday, April 24.
~.~
Matt stood on the other side of a silk screen. He couldn’t believe he actually agreed to come on a daytime television show to rekindle a romance with a high school sweetheart. The muted melody from the theme song of his senior prom blended with ohs and ahs from the studio audience.
He’d received the call a week ago. The producer from the Jade Star daytime talk show told him someone from his high school days wanted to reconnect. They hadn’t been specific, but the message had been clear. The show was reuniting lost lovers.
Matt had dated girls, but there had only been one who would call a daytime talk show for a second chance hook-up.
Heather Krump. Cheerleader, class vice president, she’d dated him off and on for most of their senior year. They’d had some crazy times. Then he’d left for college right after high school and she’d become a cheerleader for a professional basketball team back East.
The stage tech snapped his fingers and pointed to the side entrance leading to the studio set.
More applause sounded. His stomach tightened. Lately he’d lacked excitement in his life. This wasn’t exactly what he had in mind when seeking adventure, but who was he to balk at opportunity knocking? He and Heather had history…mostly good history.
More applause sounded. His stomach tightened. Lately he’d lacked excitement in his life. This wasn’t exactly what he had in mind when seeking adventure, but who was he to balk at opportunity knocking? He and Heather had history…mostly good history.
He couldn’t wait to see what she looked like now. In high school she’d been lean muscle, long dark hair, and had an enticing ass that molded to his palms. He took a deep breath and settled the flash of sexual awareness heating his blood. The last thing he needed was to walk across the stage with a blatant erection.
His hands formed fists at his sides. Tension pulled at his forehead. He relaxed his face into a smile, unclenched his hands and walked into the bright lights.
Confusion crept into his mind. He vaguely recognized the woman on the stage and there was something familiar in the younger woman with her. The younger woman smiled wide with straight white teeth glinting under the bright stage lights. He couldn’t say the same thing for the older woman. Her mouth narrowed into a thin-lipped line. Her eyes widened when she looked at him.
Confusion crept into his mind. He vaguely recognized the woman on the stage and there was something familiar in the younger woman with her. The younger woman smiled wide with straight white teeth glinting under the bright stage lights. He couldn’t say the same thing for the older woman. Her mouth narrowed into a thin-lipped line. Her eyes widened when she looked at him.
Oh hell, she was clearly not Heather. This woman had blonde hair that moved softly around her shoulders when she looked from him to the woman at her side. Subtle makeup, incredible figure, he supposed it could be Heather. He didn’t remember Heather being so petite, but hell, twenty years could dull anyone’s memory.
Finally the hum of voices around him drilled through the confusion. He turned to Jade Star.
“Matt, are you surprised?” Jade put her arm around the older woman.
Uneasiness squirmed around in his gut. How could he pluck the name out of Jade and not look like he’d forgotten the woman? Not the woman, he was sure he knew her from high school. But what was her name? Perhaps if he wasn’t a bit jetlagged and hadn’t just completed a heavy week at the hospital, he could remember. Doctors tended to have great memories. Two years could pass and he remembered a patient’s name, but come on, twenty years? He wished Jade would put him out of his misery rather than continuing to stand there and stare at him as if he’d grown a third eye and uni-brow.
Hell. He’d done it often enough, he’d bullshit his way through. Opening his arms, he smiled big and bright for the host, the television audience, millions of viewers at home and the almost-stranger in front of him. Then he pulled the blonde woman into his arms and gave her a hug.
Interesting, he felt her breath catch. Beneath the silk of her dress she trembled. Not intending a lustful embrace, but with his hands sliding against the smooth feminine contours of her back, detailing her ribs, he pulled her a bit tighter.
She responded. The audience erupted in cheers and applause.
“I’m sorry.” Her lips brushed the shell of his ear when she whispered.
Chills broke across his skin at the seductive tone to her voice. She could make millions as a phone sex provider. Two little words had his cock hardening and images of this hug taking place with less clothing. Male lust, sure, but he didn’t consider himself a letch. He worked with nurses, had female patients. Imagining a woman naked thirty seconds after he met her was definitely off-par for him. In fact, he could really only remember one other time when lust had sucker-punched him in the gut.
Tessa Brooks.
Wednesday, September 03, 2008
Tarah Scott's BLOCKBUSTER TWO WEEK EVENT with internationally renowned Clairvoyant Advisor, Melissa Alvarez on Monday through Friday of August 28 through September 11, Melissa will answer a SINGLE QUESTION reading per day to one lucky winner.
Visit Tarah's blog for all the details and a taste of the party
http://tarahscott.tarahscott.com/
Visit Tarah's blog for all the details and a taste of the party
http://tarahscott.tarahscott.com/
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