Beautiful Storm - Just released from Ellora's Cave!


Beautiful Storm
Erotic Contemporary
Ellora's Cave
To Purchase
$1.49

Adrian Beck lost everything, including his passion for designing beautiful buildings, after 9/11. Self-imposed exile on Long Caye Island gives him the sanctuary he needs to live a simple, uncomplicated life.

Isabelle Clemet, of Clemet Hotels, is ready to rebuild after Katrina. She wants the best to design her new project on the coast in Biloxi, Mississippi. She wants Adrian.

Can an erotic late-night encounter on a secluded beach help a lonely architect rediscover his lost passion?

Excerpt:

"No. My first time to Belize Island. It's beautiful."

"So are you."

She smiled and dipped her head.

"It's late for a swim."

"I'm restless. The moon is full." She glanced into the sky then returned her gaze to his. "I didn't expect to see anyone." She kept her legs tucked beneath her and his shirt covered most of her nudity. "I should've worn a suit."

He grazed a finger over the fabric. "I'm glad you didn't. And I'm the only one who saw you. We're alone." With each beat of his heart, he felt the pull to crush her flush against him and kiss her trembling lips. "This is a private beach."

"Then we're both trespassing." Her whispered words hinted at seduction.

"I don't kiss and tell."

"Good."

He took her word as consent. He cupped her cheek and brushed his lips over hers. A soft whimper slipped from her. With a heated touch, she melted against him. Twining her arms around his neck, she clung to his shoulders. Adrian flicked his tongue against her lips. Her mouth opened and he relished in the cool fresh taste of her. He growled, parting the fabric and touching her. Smooth bronzed skin fluttered beneath his fingertips. This was crazy. Beautiful women didn't materialize from the sea, like an erotic dream come to life and make love on the beach.

He gripped her tighter, trailing his palm to her hip. She was warm, soft and pliant in his arms. Trekking higher, he widened his hands, feeling each of her ribs. Her breath was shallow and her pulse raced in the same frenzied rhythm as his.

Isabelle trembled. Strong hands warmed her chilled flesh and erotic heat scorched her from the inside out. Perhaps it had been crazy to slip into the soothing Caribbean waters for a midnight swim, but she was wound too tight and had to release some of the pent-up energy stressing her out. So much responsibility rested on her shoulders.

Perhaps the moon had drawn her to this distant shore. Or the enchanting tropical waters. Or the magic of this man.

The island dream kissed her with passion. She ached to feel the desire of a man who was interested in her—the woman. Oh, and with each wondrous glide of his tongue, she slipped a little more under his spell. She wanted more than kisses. Cream simmered in her pussy, hot and waiting for this man to fill her. She shouldn't be here. But who would know? His lips were tempting, his taste intoxicating. The moon, the ocean, the man all contributing to the madness in her mind.

Mercy of the Dragon - New GBLT in the Garden

I have been meaning to tell you about my latest releases in the Wilder Garden. Several months ago, my editor came to me because she knew I had a love of m/m romance. The Wild Rose Press was opening its Scarlet Rose line to gay erotic romance and would I be interested in writing a few stories to help get the genre launched. Well, absolutely. I actually had one complete, but I hadn't decided where to submit it. So the opportunity couldn't have come at a better time for Mercy of the Dragon.

Mercy of the Dragon released on Jan 28 to mixed reviews but a common thread was there. it's hot m/m shape-shifter romance. The one complaint is that the story is too short and they want more. That's a complaint I love. Nothing is more validating than to have someone say they wanted to read more about characters I've created.

Up Close and Personal is releasing and next month you'll meet three cowboys in Going Down Hard.

I love the tumble of two men falling in love so I'm especially proud to see this genre come to the garden.

Thank you to my wonderful editor, Diana, for asking me to bring these three short stories to the Wilder side of the garden.


Mercy of the Dragon
Gay BDSM Fantasy shape-shifter
The Wilder Roses
To Purchase
2.00

Ja'darien, slayer of Dracs, will stop at nothing to banish his deviant desire for the dragons. He won't rest until he rids the world of the beasts. On the edge of a ravine, he waits for his prey.

Kerkira, a winged dragon, hunts the slayer. Yet, when given the chance, he can't kill his enemy. The man is his mate. However, because of Ja'darien's sins against the Dracs, Kerkira vows the slayer's submission will not be pleasant.

The bond of mating is more intense than either is prepared for. Will Kerkira forgive him because Ja'darien is at the mercy of the dragon?

This title contains: explicit language, anal sex, bondage,
BDSM, and m/m.

Excerpt:

Kerkira approached the bedding. The slayer, naked and bound with cord to his pallet, continued to sleep. Kerkira swallowed hard. Ja'darien was beautiful in repose. His perfect form was seemingly at peace. His full lips softened to a half smile. High brows arched over expressive eyes.

On the ridge above the ravine, those emerald eyes had revealed more than fear and hatred. Passion and lust. Even if Kerkira hadn't scented the sweetness of his essence, he'd felt the heat radiating off Ja'darien. Ja'darien's engorged cock had pressed against his tunic. The arousing fluids dampened the protective cloth and sent shards of pleasure unfurling within Kerkira's dragon—awakening the man.

"How do I make you understand?" he whispered to the sleeping slayer. If only Ja'darien had realized he'd destroyed his destiny with his rage against dragons.

Kerkira had stripped him of clothes upon arriving at his lair. His mate was for his pleasure and the need to roam hand, mouth and cock over the muscular perfection was increasing with each passing moment. Instinct to mate, to claim him—to mark him—was overwhelming. But so was the need to discipline the slayer, to punish him with painful pleasure.

As he had tied the intricate knots in the rope, binding Ja'darien to the bed, Kerkira's clawed hands had trembled.

"You will never slaughter another Drac," Kerkira vowed. Ja'darien's destiny was to serve and Kerkira would see to his instruction. "For the pain and death you've rained upon my species, your submission to me will be total and complete." His eyes narrowed as he visualized a submissive Ja'darien accepting Kerkira's power and learning to take pleasure in punishment. Ja'darien had been fighting against his true nature. A dragon's mate was always submissive. "However, it may not always be pleasant."

Born Into Fire - KyAnn Waters and Tarah Scott
Just released from Loose id!

to purchase
http://www.loose-id.com/Born-into-Fire.aspx

Ryalda, the Element heroes of old, leak from the void and bring with them beauty, desire...and destruction.

Change is hard, but the unexpected metamorphosis into fire goes beyond any change Kenna Lang could ever have imagined. When she discovers her ancestors are actually ancient beings who exist in a void beyond our universe and the dragons of her childhood dreams are real, life as she knows it is over.

Erion, an Air Element, answers the call of Kenna’s emerging fire to discover a woman on the cusp of transformation. He’s drawn to her, the need to mate overwhelming. However, Erion killed once before by having sex in element form, and has sworn not to merge with another Element. But the discovery that a male Fire Element is intent upon enslaving Kenna’s soul forces Erion to get involved. He will save her. But he aches to do more than protect her. He wants to touch her -- to pleasure her, but he can't risk bonding his Element to hers.

Erion is unprepared for the emotions Kenna awakens in him -- or the lengths to which she will go to save him.

Publisher's Note: This book contains explicit sexual content, graphic language, and situations that some readers may find objectionable: Sex while in shifted Element form


Excerpt:

A breeze -- that was him -- fluttered the ivory curtains. Moonlight streamed through the open window, outlining the sleeping form beneath the sheet covering the queen-size bed. He hovered. Why had he answered the call of her element? He had no right. Anguish wrenched through him. Long ago, he’d answered the call of another Element, and she’d paid with her life. The memory -- the pain -- didn’t stop the rake of his gaze down the cotton sheet that revealed every lush curve of the sleeping woman’s body. Desire streaked through him. The fabric ruffled in response to his command, then slid downward.

He sucked in a harsh breath. Softly molded shoulders gave way to rounded breasts tipped with quarter-size nipples, then a flat tummy and trim thighs led to long, toned legs. An unexpected vision surfaced of those legs wrapped tight around his waist while he thrust into her. The swirling vortex that was his core leaped into a furious dance.

Go, his mind commanded.

Fluid veins of amber light erupted beneath her skin. He stood frozen, her fire a drag on his wind that lay open the ache buried deep within.

Leave, came a second panicked admonition.

She inhaled.

Realization hit. Too late.

She drew him deep into her lungs. Warmth infused him in a heady rush. He struggled in desperation to escape the current, but each beat of her heart thrummed through him, echoing in his mind in a thunderous rhythm. The flow of blood through her veins washed over him like a thick velvet river.

And he gave in.

As if sensing him, she hesitated, then breathed him out on a shaky exhale. He shuddered, the loss tearing a howl of fury from him.

More. She wanted more. He needed more.

As wind, he lay beyond tangible comprehension, a cool breeze, nothing more. He could take a small piece and not imprint on her. This woman would be born into fire -- without him.

In one decadent breath, he draped himself over her, touched all of her. Her heated skin cooled. No mortal man could experience her as he did. No mortal man could touch her as he could. He chilled the air over her nipples, then watched as they peaked and felt them pucker. Commanding a gentle breeze, he caressed her contours, fitting his shape to hers.

She moaned. Excitement rocketed through him, and the current within him swirled. She shivered beneath him. He hesitated. Even a second too long would leave her with a sense of familiarity. He must leave or risk revealing himself -- or worse, bonding.

Heat pooled between her legs. Every fiber of his being screamed go. Yet, as if anchored by unseen chains, he remained motionless, unable to tear his eyes from the sight of energy that built in her erogenous points.

Only a moment, his heart urged. A mere whisper of her essence to ease the emptiness. Then he would leave.

He focused hot pressure, the wispy kiss of an Air Element, to her neck. As he trailed the pressure to her nipple, he turned the air icy. She bowed off the bed. He filled the space behind her arched back, curving up toward her neck and down across her rounded buttocks. Her breath came in quick pants, frosting in the air -- in him.

Frigid pressure tightened her nipples to erect peaks. He swirled air around the tips. She collapsed, thrashing on the pillow, and covered her breasts as if to ease the aching cold he created. Her hands heated until they glowed. The fire within her.

The glow spread up her arms, radiated out from her torso, and emitted a scorching heat that heightened his frequency to a fevered pitch. Fire. Fiera. His heart constricted. He had no right to name her. He would not be the one to bring her into being. She would seek another. But he would have this memory.

Air spun around her body. Faster, hotter. The friction against her skin hardened him. His core grew heavier. Spread your legs. The unbidden words echoed in his mind, but the unspoken command carried on the current of his breath and caressed her ear. She pulled her legs up and, knees bent, opened wide for him. He glided downward until his breath disturbed the auburn curls covering her mound.

Scent of her arousal penetrated his core. Need to shift into human form and taste her sweet nectar pooled energy into his center. He moved upward, concentrating until he held the gossamer form of a man, and settled vaporous hips between her thighs. In air form, he couldn’t slip his tongue into the sweet recesses of her mouth, couldn’t spread her damp folds, or plunge his rigid cock into the forbidden depths of her. But he could feel the heat.

Open for me, he coaxed.

Fiera moaned and reached between her legs. With a delicate stroke, she traced the seam of her pussy. He vibrated the air over her clit. A soft smile tilted her lips. Satisfaction rippled through him. She wanted more.

In a cyclone of current, he swirled around her. Strands of her flaming red hair danced in the static-filled air. Her peach-hued nipples puckered, her chest rose and fell with each deep breath she took.

More energy. Faster wind. Yes. Her hips rose off the bed, and she plunged a finger inside her channel. When she fit a second finger into her drenched opening and thrust deep, energy shot in a jagged pattern from his core to her channel. She cried out. Her eyelids fluttered, but she didn’t wake.

With her free hand she touched her clit and thrust wildly against an unseen force. Him. Gyrating her hips, bucking and arching, she fucked him, but used her own fingers. His mind whirled with her energy. It was as if she swirled around him.

© KyAnn Waters & Tarah Scott, November 2010
All Rights Reserved

Erotic content - 18+ Only

The Naughty List
KyAnn Waters
Ellora's Cave
Releasing Dec 8th!!

http://www.jasminejade.com/ps-8874-50-the-naughty-list.aspx

T’was a week before Christmas and Mrs. Claus conspires. Proposition Jack Frost to give Santa his greatest desire…

Santa ceased struggling against his bindings. Blindfolded and mute, he could do little more than grunt and anticipate the inevitable conclusion of this seditious act of perfidy. After Jack had removed Santa’s boots, he wound leather straps around Santa’s ankles. A two-inch thick leather collar buckled around his neck. He could swallow, but the movement put pressure on his Adam’s apple. Even if tape wasn’t stretched across his mouth, he doubted he’d be able to call out for help. A shudder ripped over his flesh. Heaviness weighted on his chest and his head lightened with euphoric intoxication. He was bound, gagged and apparently at the mercy of Jack Frost. That thought both thrilled and terrified.

No matter how much he thought about it, he couldn’t understand why Abby would conspire against him. Why would she trust the devious Jack Frost?

Just today he’d checked the list, checked it twice! Jack was still naughty and Abby was still nice.

“Hurry the fuck up,” Jack hollered. Santa cringed. The reindeer didn’t respond well to harsh commands. The sleigh bumped and rolled over the frozen rivers and through the woods to Jack’s abode. Santa tried to keep from rolling off the rear seat of the sleigh by bracing his feet.

For as long as Santa had been on the job, Jack had been on the naughty list. He’d done some wily acts in his years, but he’d never fucked with Santa Claus. Never truly broken North Pole laws. Until now.

The sleigh came to a jarring halt. Santa grunted.

“Almost home,” Jack said as he pulled the warm fur blanket from Santa. Jack jumped into the sleigh, helped Santa to sit, then straddled Santa’s lap and tugged off the blindfold. “I don’t live in North Pole city limits. No one is around.” He tightened his thighs to Santa’s flanks. “No one will know what I do to you.” He rocked his pelvis, crushing his groin to Santa’s. “No one will hear you call out for help.”

With each seductive word from Jack, Santa began to understand what was about to happen, what he was unwilling to acknowledge he wanted. To do so would be naughty—and Santa was never naughty.

A shiver of apprehension skated over Santa. Was Jack going to give him a choice?

“Do you know how long I’ve wanted you in my workshop, Santa?” He grinned as he carefully worked the corner of the tape loose. “I have toys.” Jack’s gray eyes clouded with lust. “Bats and balls. Paddles and rope.” The tape slowly peeled away from Santa’s tingling lips. Santa didn’t have a long beard, rather sported neatly trimmed whiskers and a tightly groomed mustache. The tape tugged on the hairs as Jack pried it away. “Or would you rather play with blow-up dolls and Silly Putty?”

The Naughty List by KyAnn Waters

www.KyAnnWaters.com

www.facebook.com/KyAnnWaters

Chatting at Joyfully Reviewed

Tomorrow, Monday, June 14 - 4 PM - 9 PM Eastern

Chat with KyAnn Waters, Darah Lace, Debra Glass & Paisley Smith




Here @ Chatting with Joyfully Reviewed
http://groups. yahoo.com/ group/Chatting_ with_Joyfully_ Reviewed/

Just released from Siren Publishing!

Cinderella Undercover
copyright KyAnn Waters
All Rights Reserved Siren-Bookstrand

To Purchase http://www.bookstrand.com/cinderella-undercover

Victoria Rosso works for Echelon Shield, an elite group of special agents. Their assignments sometimes require they work outside legal boundaries. Her assignment--to help the one man who'd ever gotten under her skin. Jaron Quinn was the best lover she'd ever had--and the one who left her six months ago without an explanation.

Jaron is undercover and has missed his extraction date. He works best under pressure and as former Navy SEAL, he's been in harried situations before. Apparently ES has concerns. What in the hell is Victoria doing on his mission? It doesn’t take long to realize Cinderella Undercover is there for Jaron. So much for a simple operation. Now he has to deal with the one woman who knows exactly how to push his buttons--especially the switch that turns him on.

Excerpt:

"Are you here for me?" he whispered, knowing Maxwell's security team would be listening through the devices placed throughout the room. The house was wired, but there were a few safe locations. The most sophisticated equipment wasn't failsafe. ES's intel had been detailed and extensive but hadn't sufficiently profiled what Jaron would encounter.

"Not you, specifically." The breathy words whispered near his ear. The seductive scent of her perfume lingered close to her skin. He breathed deeply. "But I'm sure I could be of service to you."

"Maybe I'm not interested." A slow surging of blood to his dick made a liar of him.

Inhaling, she brushed her breasts against his chest. Then she released a shuddering exhale. The angle of her hips rubbed her against the hard bulge of his cock swelling against the zipper of his jeans. "I assure you." She rocked against him, playing her role perfectly. "I can assist you with your not-so-small problem."

He growled, gripped her hips, and let her feel the full measure of his arousal. "Are you sure you know what you're asking for? I like to play rough, dirty."

"Then you think it's dangerous for me to play with you?"

"Damn straight. A smart, beautiful woman should know when she's in over her head."

"Hmm. Maybe I like to play with fire." She nipped his chin. "But I'm afraid you'll have to wait until after I speak with Mr. Evenson. I believe he has plans for me this evening."

Rage, white and hot, flashed through him. Six months ago, his future was too uncertain to continue his involvement with Victoria. But if she thought for a minute he'd be able to stand by and watch her flirt or anything else with a brutal man like Maxwell Evenson, she was out of her beautiful mind.

Jaron didn't give a damn why Amine thought he needed to send her in. He could handle Evenson. No way was he letting Tory involve herself.

He leaned in, pinning her to the wall. "You should know we're under surveillance."

"I like an audience." She cocked her head coyly to the side. "Do you want to watch?"

He released a breath. "What do you think?" She knew he did. The last time they were together, Victoria draped across the bed, her thighs open while she fingered her clit. Small gentle circles at first built pressure until she bit hard on her lower lip and cream trickled from her center. He'd delved between her thighs, lapped her honey until they'd both been drunk with lust.

Jaron convinced himself what he'd felt for her couldn't be love, because he'd had to protect her--by leaving her. Staying together put her at too much risk. Frank had shown him that. Shown him that a man who lived on the edge and risked his life for the cause couldn't love a woman like Victoria. Yes, she was part of ES, but she would never infiltrate cave camps in Afghanistan, or become part of a Central American drug cartel to stop the flow of cocaine over the border. Amine had pointed out the hard truths. Jaron might not come home one day. They both loved Victoria enough not to put her through the loss of another person she loved.

Jaron brought their faces close together. "If you push me, princess, I'm going to give you exactly what you want."

"Princess? Perhaps you should be on your knees."

He chuckled. Breath mingled. "A tempting offer." One he remembered sampling often. He recalled her swollen pink lips, parting her silken inner folds with his thumbs, and tonguing the pearl of her pussy, making her cream against his mouth. Swallowing hard, he salivated with want for a taste.

"I was given the impression that my services were needed." Her pulse fluttered in the long column of her neck. She trembled at his nearness.

"You have no idea." His hand molded to her hip. "But not here. Not now." He spoke close to her lips. All he had to do was close the space between them. Their lips would touch, but that would compromise an already-delicate situation.

Eventually, any new connection between them would complicate their precarious situation. Whatever they once had, and as bitter as the notion was, this was a connection they shouldn't have again. He wasn't good for her, and she was too good for him.

Tell that to his cock.

Memories of her throaty laugh when she reached orgasm came rushing through his mind with the force of a tidal wave. He'd thought incessantly of her since the night he'd left her bed...her life. Yet here she was and he felt the same carnal desires jack hammering through his body.

He hesitated less than a minute. "Fuck." He had to kiss her. "I can't believe you're here. God, but I wish you weren't." His mouth descended, hot, demanding, thoroughly kissing her. He pinned her to the wall, crushing her soft curves to his hard lines.

"Liar." She moaned, melted against him as her arms circled his shoulders, gripping him. He wasn't sure if she pushed him to get away, or clawed at him to move closer. He only knew he couldn't stop the onslaught of need and desire. Applying pressure, he urged her mouth open, slipped his tongue past her teeth and exerted mild suction. Fuck. She tasted better than he remembered. Warm and soft lips pressed more firmly against his. Not light, tentative, or cautious. Deepening the heated kiss, he coaxed her tongue to dance with his.

He wanted more. He wanted her. But they were being watched. He already risked revealing their familiarity in their whispered words. Therefore, he wrenched his mouth from hers. His chest heaved as he regained his control. Yeah, right. With Victoria, he never felt in control.

Erotic Romance Author
www.KyAnnWaters.com

Johnny Loves Krissy is Here!! Just Released

Johnny Loves Krissy
Copyright KyAnn Waters
All Rights Reserved, The Wild Rose Press
Erotic Contemporary
The Wilder Roses
e-book novel $6.00
rated double rose

To Purchase http://www.thewildrosepress.com/wilderroses/index.php?main_page=product_info&cPath=182&products_id=770


Blurb:
Kristina Taylor's biological clock just went off. She has endometriosis. Now “who's your baby's daddy” just took on a completely new meaning. A brilliant plan for conception includes her hot best friend Johnny

Knock her up? Krissy has to be crazy. Or is she? Johnny has loved her since high school. Her plan might not include life after baby. His does. But how is he going to show her how good they can be together with all her rules--no kissing, no touching, no caressing. He can make love to her, but she's determined not to enjoy it. To hell with that and to hell with her rules. He's determined to show her friendship is the best foundation for a relationship.

But there are always complications. ..

With Johnny, Krissy is afraid to look to the future. Right now, she can't get enough of the present, and she dreads the thought of losing what she's had with him in the past. Huston. Taking him to bed won't be a hardship--if she can only get him to play by her rules. After all, she wants to maintain their friendship. Not easy if he ends up being the best sex of her life.


Excerpt:

"Our baby," she whispered with awe and wonder discernable in her voice. "Is this really happening?"

Her eyes filled with tears. Johnny set the frying pan on the stove and pulled her out of the kitchen chair and into his arms. "Scary when it finally becomes real, isn't it?" He stroked her back. He felt her head nod against his chest. Then she went rigid and pushed against him. "What?"

"We have bigger problems." She took two retreating steps. "The when, where and how."

"Pardon me?"

"I don't want some magical date etched into my mind reminding me of the day we conceived our baby. Where are we actually going to have sex? Not my bed. I'm not going to remember us every time I crawl beneath the covers. Not your bed either. I don't want you thinking about me when you go to sleep."

Good thing she wasn't in his head. He'd already taken her to his bed hundreds of times. In his dreams. "The where won't matter. You and I both know we'll never forget."

"As for the when, I'm ready when you are." Krissy put her hands on her hips. "Actually, I should rephrase that. I'll be ready after you make breakfast and we eat. If we can decide where, then we can do it tonight. We just need to think of sex as the first step in a series of steps to reach the desired conclusion of having a baby."

As if he could just forget he'd be making love while Krissy only thought of their being together as a means to an end. "At least we don't need to discuss the how."

"Actually, I think we do."

Johnny nearly crushed the egg he was holding in his hand instead of cracking it into the frying pan. He looked over his shoulder and cocked an eyebrow. Krissy sat at the table again with a serious look on her face, not a trace of humor in the straight line of her mouth. "I'm capable."

She rolled her eyes. "We both know what happens in relationships when one falls hard and not the other. That can't happen to us. So we need rules about the how." She held up one finger. "No kissing. That includes oral. I'm not sucking your dick."

"What if I need help getting an erection? You won't be my fluff girl?"

She pursed her lips. "I'll get you a Viagra."

Her mouth turned up on the left and he weakened. "Okay, let me hear the rest of your rules."

"No caressing. I know you're an ass man. Mine is off limits. No touching outside of what is absolutely necessary. No grabbing hair."

"Are your tits off limits, too?"

Her eyes narrowed. "Yes."

Laughter rolled from deep within his chest. Unbelievable. His dreams had come true and then morphed into his worst nightmare. He could make love to Krissy, but by god, he wasn't allowed to enjoy it.

"If you make me come, I'll clobber you the minute you get off of me. I don't want you to be good."

Did she read minds now? "I can't control whether it's good or not."

"Yes, you can! Just get on, come, and get off. Hopefully, we'll only have to fuck once."

"Do I get to enjoy myself at all or is that against the rules as well?" Johnny flipped the eggs in the pan, then snatched the bread off the top of the refrigerator. He needed to calm down. Krissy's unrealistic ideal situation was a long way from his.

"Of course." She stood and poured them coffee. "You have to enjoy sex in order to reach orgasm. How else am I going to get pregnant? Coming is ejaculation. I don't suppose you're a premature ejaculator. The faster the better."

Erotic Romance Author
www.KyAnnWaters. com

Just released!

Roped and Branded
Copyright KyAnn Waters, 2010
All Rights Reserved, Ellora's Cave Publishing, Inc.

Roped and Branded

by KyAnn Waters

To Purchase http://www.jasminejade.com/ps-8280-50-roped-and-branded.aspx

Price $4.45

Southern Texas is in the grips of a heat wave and DaniLee Hunter needs a distraction. The man she wants refuses to see she's all grown up, but the sexy ranch hand Waco is more than willing for an erotic roll in the hay.

Everything in South Texas stings, bites, or prickles...including Cord Stiles. As foreman of the Iron H, he has enough to deal with--including his growing attraction for DaniLee. She's wild and reckless--and impossible to ignore. It's time she's roped and branded...and he's just the man to do it.

The stakes are high in a late night poke-her game. Cord, Dani and Waco lay their cards are on the table. Winner takes all.

Excerpt:

"Dani, slow down."

"We can't." DaniLee Hunter chuckled. She wasn't sure of the cowboy's real name because everyone called him Waco. She glanced from his dreamy, moss green eyes to the tempting bulge of his cock beneath the brass buckle cinching the waist of his faded Wranglers. She traced the impression of the rodeo steer on the belt buckle. Waco groaned and his bulge flexed.

Dani grabbed his shirt and yanked. Snaps popped and the fabric parted. She stared, mesmerized by the tough, lean muscle and skin bronzed by wind and sun. She trailed a finger down his sternum and over his corded abdominals. His flesh quivered under her fingertips. Damn, the man was cut.

Ranch work hardened a body, even hers. She'd been called a tomboy since she climbed onto that first paint at four years old. At twenty-three, she was grown up and no longer had the small, lean build of a boy. She insisted she be treated like one of the men, but didn't have to look like one.

Waco grinned, shifted his broad shoulders and shrugged the shirt from his body. "We're playing with fire." His gaze darted to the closed barn door. "If your daddy--"

"Are you afraid to get burned?" She cocked her head to the side and slipped the button of her sleeveless cotton shirt free. "Feel how hot I am." Another button. Her shirt gaped.

Waco's stare dropped from her face to her exposed cleavage and his eyes darkened. "Fuck, Dani, how is a man supposed to keep his head around you?" He grazed a work-rough knuckle across a beaded nipple. Pleasure snaked from tip to clit.

"Oh baby, you aren't." She stepped closer and took Waco's tan cowboy hat from his head. Sweat dampened the chestnut curls at his temples. He wore his hair long enough to run her fingers though, and hold on tight to while she sat on his face and rode his thin mustache.

She laughed as Waco impatiently pushed her into an empty horse stall. Her boots crunched the fresh straw on the dirt floor. The musky scent of horse and hay hung in the air.

He worked his belt loose. "There will be hell to pay if we get caught." His voice held an edge of laughter.

"That's part of the excitement." She arched one eyebrow and smirked. "And you know it isn't gentlemanly to tell a girl she isn't worth a little risk."

"I never professed to be a gentleman."

"Good because I don't want gentle."

He chuckled and jerked the zipper down. "I think you know you're worth a trip through hell." He parted the fly and his cock thrust forward from a thatch of dark springy hair.

"Yeah, I know all about you and your hedonistic ways. As long as it feels good--"

A devilish smile tilted his lips. "And, fuck, that feels good." She held his thick length in both hands and squeezed as he hardened further. Soft, smooth skin stretched tight over solid steel. The large bulbous head darkened to a deep red and pearly liquid seeped from the slit. She stroked him once...twice. Her grip was firm and she slid the skin over his rod.

He leaned his head back against the wood beam between stalls and hissed. "Harder, Dani." She squeezed, but his shaft was like rock. "Damn, your hands are strong."

So was her determination. She squatted into the fresh hay. Waco's dick was long and thick with veins bulging in high relief. A rich, earthy smell clung to his skin. She breathed deep, leaned in and tasted his length from base to tip. She circled the crown with her tongue, then took him between her lips and sucked.

Waco fisted his hands at his sides and thrust his hips toward her face. God, everything about the man was whipcord lean. His muscular thighs bent, giving her a better position to take more of his shaft into her mouth. She hummed in the back of her throat and savored the hard, heated length.

His velvety flesh was salty sweet and pulsed within her mouth. She curled her tongue around the ridge then flicked the tip against the slit. Her left hand wrapped around the back of his thigh and her right twisted gently and pumped his cock. She sucked hard, fist meeting mouth in the middle, making him wet and slick with saliva. She pumped faster, working her mouth up and down the shaft.

The barn door rattled.

"Who's there?" Waco jerked his hips, pulled free of her mouth and spun toward the door.

"It's only the wind." She laughed and fell back onto her butt. "Are you that worried about being caught with me?" She reclined back on her elbows and stretched her legs out in front of her. "We're just having fun."

Waco dropped to the ground beside her. "I happen to like working on the Iron H. Your dad is a good man." He circled her bellybutton with the blunt tip of his finger. Her tummy quivered as he traced a squiggly pattern higher.

"My daddy is at the house." She glanced around the vacant barn. "We're alone." She trailed her fingertips up his forearm, combing the soft, dark hairs with her nails. "It's just you and me."

Waco cupped her breast and rasped his thumb over the taut tip. "Ray isn't the problem--it's your keeper."

"I don't have a keeper," she said as if she meant it.

Waco snorted.

"I don't. Cord Stiles has no say in what I do." She kicked off her boots. "I do who and what I want." And she wanted to do Waco. Dani lifted her hips and shimmied off her worn jeans. Then she threaded her fingers through his hair and pulled him down into the hay with her. "Less talk, cowboy."

Waco's lips were firm and demanding, but Dani knew what she liked and how she liked it and he wasn't aggressive enough. She spread her thighs and he maneuvered between them, grinding his rigid cock against her mound. With a shift of his hips, he emulated the slow thrusting of long, deep strokes. Only she still wore her thong. The string was soaked and rubbing against her sensitive clit.

She opened her mouth and glided her tongue along his. Sucking, nibbling and tasting fresh air and raw man. Her heart pounded against her ribs and her tummy fluttered. The delicious cock riding between her legs had her hotter than the Texas sun at high noon.

DaniLee wrapped her arms around his tapered torso and her legs around his lean hips. He groaned and plunged his hot, wet tongue deep into her mouth. Dani ate at his lips, but was growing tired of foreplay. She wanted to ride in his rodeo--wanted Waco to ride her hard and fast. Her pussy clenched, needing to be crammed full of his cock. She didn't want soft and gentle, but wanted on her hands and knees while he drove his dick into her cunt and thoroughly fucked her from behind.

"What the hell are you doing? Get the fuck off her!"

"Holy shit!" Waco leapt off, jerked up his pants, nearly zipping off his beautiful erection. Now that would have been a damn shame.

"Cord! Don't you knock?" Dani flopped back into the hay and draped one arm over her closed eyes.

Erotic Romance Author
www.KyAnnWaters.com

This summary is not available. Please click here to view the post.

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.

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

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.

Tristan McKay walked away, but he never had any intention of staying gone. Jaycee's temper flares with the same intensity as her arousal and he's been burned by both. Trouble is--he likes playing with fire.

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.

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

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.

Excerpt:

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

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."