Tonight, I’ll be making the rounds of the local churches, the downtown haunted alley, then trailing five little monsters through neighborhoods as they giddily assault front doors in search of candy. Whee!
I love Halloween. I love how much the little ones love it, too! And we always do a Halloween picture, something appropriately scary. This year, we’re heading to the gates of the cemetery for a great spooky background.
Can you believe the year has flown so fast? I’m already prepping for 2017. Through Rose’s Colored Glasses, I’ll be leading a Mind Mapping workshop in November, and then the annual Write 50 Books a Year workshop the next month. Both are free and my way of giving back to the writing community.
In November, I’ll have new books coming. Take a look at the yummy covers! But first, see October’s new releases, just in case you missed something. All the new releases are free to Kindle Unlimited subscribers. And if you have time, reviews are very much appreciated!
A Glance Back At October
Close Encounter of the Carnal Kind
Etienne Lambert, a Cajun ex-soldier fresh from the horrors of the war in Iraq, discovers that he’s an alien when an alien woman arrives at his door to take him home. When he resists, she kidnaps him. He soon learns he is the last potent male in the royal line of their planets, and it’s his duty to return to sire the next generation of the ruling caste.
Marika is a fightership commander who has succeeded where all the mages, seers, and trackers have failed. She has found her planets’ last hope for salvation! When the future king demands that he start work immediately on the primary mandate of his rule–to sire children–she can’t refuse his command.
A woman desperate to save her infected boyfriend from certain extermination faces her battle alone, in secret, until one day she has to trust he’s still inside the monster she feeds…
For love, a man will do anything, even betray his beloved to save her…
Vampire Quentin Albermarle’s wife, Darcy, lies in a coma after being savaged by a werewolf. Fearing she might never awaken, or worse, that she will return a maddened beast, Quentin returns to the Cayman Islands seeking help from the one woman who might be able to save her.
A century and a half ago, this powerful vampire and witch seduced Quentin with magic and turned him into a vampire to provide herself a mate, but he freed himself from her spell and fled her influence, knowing he’d left behind a powerful enemy. Returning now, seeking Kamaria’s help, he must resist her attempts to enslave him again. However, the price she demands may cause him to lose the woman he loves.
Troy Barlow wasn’t looking for love when he competed in the Texas Tough Firefighting Competition, but one feisty little blonde caught his attention and wouldn’t let go. The more she tried to deflect him, the more determined he became to make an impression, until he did something she couldn’t possibly ignore.
The last thing Diana Boyle expected to feel was attraction for another firefighter. After her husband’s death, she’d been adamant–never another firefighter. But Troy was impossible to escape. When he wore down her resolve, she thought a one-night-stand might purge him from her system once and for all, but his powerful appeal and uninhibited lust and zest for life were addictive. When a harrowing fire threatens their newfound happiness, Diana has to face her worst fears.
I can’t wait to share these stories with you! In November, you’ll see a brand new sequel to my stepbrother-SEAL story featuring Hunter and Sara, a super-collection of shorties, and a newUncharted SEALs adventure!
First off, I’d like to thank Delilah for this great opportunity to be a guest blogger!
Since I was a child, Halloween has always been one of my favorite holidays. You got to dress up, scare your friends and get free candy. Then there was the added bonus of being able to tell all sorts of ghost stories, some of which kept my friends up all night.
As I got older I realized that Halloween is not just a time for little kids to enjoy; adults are able to cut loose and dress up as whoever or whatever they want and get a little crazy too! (My parents never did it, so it felt incredibly rebellious!)
The college that I attended held a Halloween party every year which my friends and I loved to go to. Our school was built back in the early 1900’s and had the gothic architecture that made you wonder if it really was just an educational institution or a building that was harboring some other secrets in one of its underground tunnels. The party was held in one of the grand halls, complete with a stone fireplace and faces carved into the wall (some of which were sanded off because the residents swore that the eyes followed them). And yes, there was a haunted house that was set up but I don’t think it was really necessary. Just walking through the school alone at night gave most people the creeps.
With all this Halloween magic going on, I never anticipated that the sweet tendrils of love would wrap around my heart that night.
As I glanced around the room of creepy costumes, a rather handsome, and somewhat bloodied, man slowly made his way through the crowd. I wondered what he was supposed to be—serial killer, butcher, zombie slayer? There was no other prop that helped identify what he was dressed as.
Curious, I weaved among the creatures of the night in my golden Belle dress (á la Beauty and the Beast) and approached him.
“So what are you supposed to be?”
“Disgruntled Network Admin” he said with a smile.
“Ah, so you’re a computer geek.”
“Yup.”
“So what are you doing here? Don’t you have a video game that you’d rather be playing instead of being at a party like this?” I teased.
“No, I like parties. Gives me a chance to pick up girls.”
I frowned. That was pretty cocky. “You seem awfully sure of yourself. I’m positive you won’t be able to pick me up.”
His smile grew mischievous. “Oh, I am sure I can.”
I shook my head. With that attitude there was no way he was going to win. “Nope. You can’t.”
“Watch.” He bent down, picked me up by my legs and swung me over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Everyone cheered as he walked with me out of the hall.
“I told her I could pick her up!” he triumphantly boomed.
Yes, it was cheesy but it worked.
He has been the greatest supporter of my writing and for that I will be forever grateful!
I hope everyone will have a great Halloween…who knows, maybe you will find your special ghoul or goblin too!
Driven by Love
Anne Stevens had everything…
Wealth, fame, and a secret power to bring a civilization to its knees. When her sister is severely hurt in an apparent car crash, Anne discovers clues that lead her to believe her own life might be in danger.
Dean was a Marine Corps. veteran from a special military team, each gifted with powers of a mysterious origin. Framed for murder by his mercenary ex-lover, Dean retires from service to live a civilian life as a body guard for hire. Dean Miller met only a few people with gifts while he was in the Middle East but none compared to what Anne Stevens could do: bring to life the machines around her.
Seemingly from different worlds, they share more in common than their growing desire for each other as they find themselves irresistibly drawn to one another. When the threat intensifies and Anne becomes the target of a kidnapping, Dean must draw on old friends to help save her from a ruthless enemy.
Driven by Love is the 1st book in the Heirs of Orion romantic suspense series which takes readers on a journey through the lives of people with special powers and those who want to control them.
D. Anne Paris is the one person you will find running towards haunted houses with her camera in hand. Corporate America was once her calling but the long hours, little gratitude, and her boss’s comment that she wasn’t creative enough made her change her direction in life. Writing was always her passion as a child so she decided to pursue her dream and bring her stories to life. When she’s not writing she spends time with her furry and non-furry kids or working on her beloved sports car who she hopes will rise from the dead one day.
You can connect with her on twitter @danneparis or on her website www.danneparis.com.
UPDATE: The winner of the Amazon gift card is…Catherine Maguire!
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You know me. I always have a million ideas floating in my head. Very soon, I’ll reach the point where I’ll be starting a new story, maybe a new series. Before I commit to a particular direction, I’d love to hear from you. Cast a vote in the poll. You can choose up to three possible directions. If there’s something you don’t see, but you’d love for me to write, add it in the comments. If there’s one idea among the three you choose that you’d particularly like to see, tell me so in the comments.
If you post a comment, you’ll be entered to win a small Amazon gift card!
When I write my next longer story, what genre/theme would you prefer to see? If you don't see the kind of story you'd love to read next , add your idea in the comments!
Cowboys on the Edge story, including firefighters and lawmen (19%, 10 Votes)
New cowboys series centered around a family in Montana or Wyoming (17%, 9 Votes)
New spec ops suspense, including SEALs, Delta Force, etc. (15%, 8 Votes)
Night Fall series paranormal with vampires and werewolves (13%, 7 Votes)
Sci-Fi alien abduction series (9%, 5 Votes)
New shapeshifter series containing large predator packs (wolves, bears, dragons?) (9%, 5 Votes)
Cait O'Connell series paranormal mystery/suspense (7%, 4 Votes)
Stepbrother Stepping Out series menage (6%, 3 Votes)
Dark Frontier series set in a post-apocalyptic Texas with vampires/weres (6%, 3 Votes)
Remember in Jurassic Park how scientist recreated dinosaurs for the DNA recovered from mosquitos.
Well, now that scientists have found Neanderthal DNA in humans what if they discover, that this is the missing link to psychic abilities?
True or not, this is the premise in which I used to build my new series The Ancient Warrior Prophecy.
A secret society of people have Neanderthal DNA. They know the power, which is being passed down through the generations. Their leaders and shamen have been passing down the knowledge of the tasks they need to perform for humanity. This prophecy requires strong men and women to step up and save us from the destruction of the world.
The Warrior in Me – yes, it appears to be nothing more than a simple murder mystery with strong romantic elements. But it also reveals the secret people who carry the burden of saving the world. How they work to protect the secret of Neanderthal in the human genome.
The Warrior in Me – Erotic Murder Mystery/ Romantic suspense
Special Security Agent Sebastian Berlin is eager to track down his partner’s killer. Instead, he’s assigned the job of baby-sitting a scientist. His boss thinks she’s the key to an Ancient Warrior Prophecy. Science never interested Sebastian, but the know-it-all female standing at the end of his Alaskan dock could persuade him to do a little experimenting. That is, if he can keep his Neanderthal Warrior genes from taking control.
DNA specialist Lily Sinclair is in need of a vacation, or so her over-protective ex-husband tells her. Arriving in chilly Alaska instead of sunny Cancun, she’s tired and cranky and so not in the mood for her bodyguard’s he-man tactics. Still, there’s something about the sexy eye-candy that makes her want to lick him all over even as she’s demanding to go home.
Then Lily’s ex is poisoned, and Sebastian is certain the two murders are connected and she could be next. She knows he’s hiding something, but with the worldwide release of Neanderthal DNA project only days away, she has no choice but to trust him to protect her. But can she trust him with her heart?
Excerpt: First Kiss
Seconds before his mouth covered hers, she whispered, “Sebastian, I don’t—” The rest of the sentence died under the quick spear of his tongue, seeking entrance into the hot moist haven of her mouth.
The fight he expected didn’t fully materialize. She gasped in shock, and her body stiffened. Then she lifted her hands to his shoulders, leaving the few inches between them vacant.
Tightening his grip, he drew the soft cushion of her breasts invitingly against his chest. All too quickly, he moved past the point of a simple kiss and fed on her unique flavor. He’d gone too long without the seductive touch of a woman. Today, she’d tempted him with the fire of her anger and the gentle concern for him at the loss of his friend. Holding himself in check, he’d resisted until she’d revealed her passion for her research. Now, he couldn’t contain his enthusiasm for her any longer. He ate at her lips, nipping and sucking until they opened wider.
Lily moaned, and he captured the sound, swallowing it as he flicked his tongue against the roof of her mouth. She welcomed him by drawing him deeper. He thrust in and out, over and over mimicking the ancient rhythm of sex.
Determined to sample every inch of the hot, moist cavity, he drank in the rich, sweet nectar. As stimulating as wine, he became drunk on her and tangled his tongue around hers. Time lost meaning. He forgot everything except her hands in his hair, her body plastered against his, the relentless need to consume her.
Somewhere in his subconscious, something reminded him that women didn’t progress from “Hello, it nice to meet you” to “Do you want to go to bed with me” this quickly. On the other hand, maybe, the light tingling of his scalp as she curled her fingers in his hair helped jog his memory. He had to take things a little slower if he wanted to win the girl.
Anita Philmar likes to create stories that push the limit. A writer by day and a dreamer by night she wants her readers to see the world in a new way. Influenced by old movies, she likes to develop places where anything can happen and where special moments come to life in a great read. Naughty or Nice? Read her books and decide.
Alright, busted. No one in their right mind speaks that way unless they’re working at a Renaissance festival, right?
But Halloween seems the perfect time to break out all sorts of portents, omens, cryptic tones and pompous language.
I love this time of year. Even though the prospect of a Midwest snowmageddon looms in the future, I do enjoy the turn of seasons. If only for a few days, mind you.
Leaves fall into orange, crisp yellow and fiery red flakes. A fresh and oddly melancholic breeze carries the aroma of a cleansing and deadening at the same time. Rakes scrape. Backs hurt. Furnaces comfortably hum. Neighbors, who I don’t usually speak to nod their heads, an affirmation change is in the air.
Serial killers in masks stalk… Wait! Hold on a minute! How’d that get in there?
It’s that Autumnal time of year where everything cuts a scarier edge.
As a writer, I enjoy writing spooky things. Not gross gut-spewing stuff, not that awful torture porn junk. Just…spooky. I’ve published tales about ghosts, zombies, crazed killers, witches, pretty much the whole nine yards of horror. Does this stuff scare me? Nah! That’s why it’s fun to write!
What does scare, me I hear you asking? Well…things not so fun. Let’s see…off the top of my head: global warming, racism, all-too-real violence, the prospects of a “CHIPS” TV revival, Trump, terrorism, getting my driver’s license renewed, the devaluation of education, dreams where I’m naked in public… You get the idea.
Psst. Come in a little closer…that’s good…c’mon, so you can hear me ‘cause I’m gonna whisper…
Truth of the matter is ghosts scare me. I’m torn. I’d love to see proof of the nether-world, but I don’t know how I’d react. I’d probably pull an absolutely psychedelic (non-drug-induced) freak-out.
It’s safer to poo-poo it all. Usually I do. Yet… Yet, my in-laws’ best friends told me a tale, one hard to dismiss. The husband’s as hard-core, right-wing, “I’m from Missouri, show me,” “medicine and doctors are for the birds,” die-hard attitude you’ll ever witness. Hardly a candidate for a believer in the supernatural.
He and his wife witnessed—lived through—a bonafide haunting.
Long story short, I’ll hit the Cliff notes version: furniture on the second floor moved with no one there; bed sheets tore ragged as if by claws; a bucket of water dumped on the wife while she walked upstairs, no origin discernible; wall-hanging photographs moved to different rooms; whispers, voices, blurry images during the longest, darkest part of the night.
I believed their story. Or at least I believed they believed it. But it was hard to deny their conviction.
It makes me wonder.
Which is one of the reasons I like to explore the edge of reality in my writing. The world—not quite seen, but often glanced—where things don’t quite add up. That itchy feeling someone’s watching you. Someone’s there with you. Maybe I’m living vicariously through my writing, ‘cause I really, REALLY don’t want to have an actual visitation…
So! Ghosts of Gannaway is my historical ghost novel loosely based on real events that happened in Picher, Oklahoma. (Or did it all happen?) I tossed many things in there that scares me, such as… Well, just read it and find out.
Then there’s Demon with a Comb-Over, my spooky yet comical tale of a lousy stand-up comic who ticks off a demon. (NOT Donald Trump, but close).
What I loosely call my “Farm Noir” trilogy (only because they’re dark tales that take place in Kansas) are kinda spooky, too. And whaddaya know about that, they just came out in paperback, too, for you old-timers. Zombie Rapture, Godland and Neighborhood Watch: perfect Halloween reading.
I updated a blog I posted last year so I could share it with you, because I just love this story so much! I flew to Ohio for my husband’s office Holiday Party. As I started writing the blog post, we began our initial descent into Cincinnati. The leg from Phoenix to Houston International Airport went smoothly. However, once we landed in Houston, things fell apart rapidly.
Four people needed wheelchair assistance once off the plane, including me. Only one showed up. The rest of us waited nearly 20 minutes. That’s not so bad, you say. Except all 3 of us had connecting flights, all leaving in less than an hour.
No big deal, right? The wheelchairs came, and we disembarked. Plenty of time to get to a new gate. Except that the trains running from terminal to terminal had stopped working. The crowds impatiently waiting for them to be fixed were staggering. The gentleman assigned to me tried to spread the word – both to passengers and other employees – that the trains might not start up again, but was largely ignored; primarily, I think, because no one had another solution. He told me that the breakdown occurred every year when the weather changed, and could take upwards of a day to be fixed.
This gentle giant was simple, with an IQ probably around 80. He was earnest, with a genuine desire to help. None of what happened was his fault, yet some frustrated passengers took out their ire on him. I could see him shrink in on himself each time.
“You’re doing everything you can,” I said, patting his hand. He took heart, and realized there was another route: downstairs, around past the hotel, into the terminal, and back around through security to reach the one remaining working train. Doing something seemed better than nothing, so I agreed to try it.
We made the trek and got in line for security. I was selected at random for additional checks. By that point, I literally had 4 minutes before they would close the doors and push back from the gate. I gave up, I admit it. I turned my mind instead toward finding an alternate flight. But Danny refused to give up. We made the trek all the way down to the gate. As we arrived, a woman was locking the doors behind her. Okay, I thought. We made a valiant effort. So be it.
“We’re not boarding yet,” she said. “It’ll be just a few minutes.”
Music to my ears, but confusing nonetheless. Turns out the flight had been delayed due to some sort of mechanical malfunction! What could have been the last straw in a series of comical misfortunes instead turned out to be a blessing. I turned to Danny.
“We made it,” I said, a big grin on my face.
He saw my smile and spontaneously bent over to hug me. I kissed his cheek and hugged him back. He’d never given up. He’d taken his charter seriously. And suddenly, we two human beings who’d never met and would never cross paths again shared a moment of total connection with one another.
The scent of his lotion stayed on my cheeks all through the flight from Houston to Cincinnati. Whenever I inhaled, I was reminded that grace can come from anywhere, in any form, at any time. I’m not talking about making the flight; that’s irrelevant to this story. This story is about Danny’s can-do attitude and generosity of spirit. I think I smiled the entire trip. Danny, you are one remarkable human being. Thank you.
I’d love to hear about your best (or worst) travel story. Won’t you share?
RITA® nominated and award-winning author Leslie Jones has been an IT geek, a graphics designer, and an Army intelligence officer. She’s lived in Alaska, Korea, Belgium, Germany, and other exotic locations (including New Jersey). She is a wife, mother, and full-time writer, and currently lives in Scottsdale, Arizona. Her books can be found at Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and HarperCollins Publishers.
UPDATE: The winner of the free prequel story is…Enikö!
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So, last Saturday, I had this story come out called Flashpoint. It features two of my favorite things—a firefighter from down in Texas. I loved writing Troy Barlow. He’s a hero who doesn’t take himself too seriously, but he’s strong at his core, playful when he’s bent on seduction, and just plain yummy. I’ll share an excerpt below so you can see just what I mean.
I’m trying to get out the word about this story, and I could use your help. It’s easy, just two clicks really, starting with clicking on this link: Thunderclap.
Thanks for doing that! One more thing you need to know about Flashpoint, it’s the fourth story in a series of related, but standalone stories. The first three books are also in Kindle Unlimited, which means if you have a subscription, they are all FREE!
Here’s the three stories. You can click on the covers if you’re interested in more sexy adventures featuring men with badges and suspenders…
And if you’re not a KU subscriber, but would like to win a copy of one of these prequel stories, leave a comment for a chance to win! Tell me whether you love Texas settings, and what you might like to see from me in the future!
Flashpoint
His touch makes her burn…
Troy Barlow wasn’t looking for love when he competed in the Texas Tough Firefighting Competition, but one feisty little blonde caught his attention and wouldn’t let go. The more she tried to deflect him, the more determined he became to make an impression, until he did something she couldn’t possibly ignore.
The last thing Diana Boyle expected to feel was attraction for another firefighter. After her husband’s death, she’d been adamant–never another firefighter. But Troy was impossible to escape. When he wore down her resolve, she thought a one-night-stand might purge him from her system once and for all, but his powerful appeal and uninhibited lust and zest for life were addictive. When a harrowing fire threatens their newfound happiness, Diana has to face her worst fears.
They’re naked and standing in front of the bathroom mirror…
Another shiver traveled down Diana’s spine. She’d never seen a look quite like the one Troy wore now. Ravenous. Wild. His blue irises had nearly been consumed by his black pupils. His jaw was tight; his skin stretched over his cheekbones. And every part of him that touched her was hard. The arm clamped over her breasts. The chest pressed against her back. The cock lodged between the globes of her ass.
She’d wanted uncomplicated sex. Maybe a little gymnastic, too. But this was a whole other prospect. Troy was set to turn her inside out, and she was worried she wouldn’t be enough to satisfy him.
Her sex life with Mike had been…nice. Happy. Comfortable. But the emotions Troy aroused in her now were anything but.
His intense expression said he’d allow no modesty. No holding back.
As if she could. Already her sex was damp, her labia swelling. Her nipples had sprung instantly when cool hair had hit them, and now ached pressed against his arm.
“Stop looking at me like that,” he growled into her ear.
“Like what?” she asked, gasping when he bit her lobe.
“Like I’m the big bad wolf.”
“I’m not afraid.”
“Then why are you shaking?”
She widened her gaze, locking with his in the mirror and licked her bottom lip. “Because I’m dying to feel you inside me,” she whispered.
He groaned and his arm moved downward, fingers sliding between her legs to feather across her slit. “You’re wet for me.”
Diana leaned her head against his shoulder and reached back both hands to grab his ass. It was hard, no give at all. She dug her nails into his skin.
He slipped a finger into her pussy and swirled it.
She turned her head to hide her expression as she drew a hissing breath between her teeth. More fluid greeted him, wetting his hand, sliding down her thigh.
“I’m gonna lick that all up.”
Once corner of her mouth kicked up as she wrinkled her nose. “Big talk for a man who can’t seem to find his own bed.”
“I’ll get there. Promise.” But instead of leading her into his room, he reset his feet farther apart, lowering his height, and pushed his cock between her legs. Now she could see him there, sliding through her folds, his big fat head appearing then disappearing, as he stroked forward and back. A crude image that made her nipples harden.
She couldn’t stand the tingling there and cupped her breasts, playing with the tips. His gaze dropped to watch, and he tucked a finger into the top of her folds to circle her clitoris.
She jerked because the nubbin was already hard and engorged. The hood had slipped away. His raspy fingertip touched it directly, and she wasn’t sure she could take much more until he raised his finger, wet it with his tongue, and resumed his teasing motions.
“Troy,” she groaned, arching her back and reaching now to clutch his hair. She pulled as she began to writhe against him, loving the slide of his thick cock, the scrape of his finger. She could come like this, but she wanted more. Wanted him deep. Wanted to be so full and stretched she didn’t remember who she was or the fact this wasn’t something lasting.
Troy removed his hands then tugged on her hair and pulled back her head. Coming around her, he kissed her hard, then walked her backward, his arms surrounding her, guiding her, until her thighs hit the mattress, and she fell back.
Then he was on her, not allowing her to scoot deeper onto the mattress. With her legs hanging over the side, she watched breathlessly as he knelt between her legs and set her thighs on his shoulders.
“Too much,” she said, shielding her pussy with her hand. Too embarrassing. Too intimate. Him there, seeing everything in the lamplight.
But he ignored her, nipping her fingers until she withdrew them. Then he pulled her labia into his mouth, sucked on them, chewed them gently, getting them wet and engorged. When she was ready to scream, he backed off to blow cool streams of air over her hot flesh.
Then he parted her folds, tugging them upward to expose her clit. She groaned again and closed her eyes, refusing to watch him because it was so much dirtier to see what he did than simply feel.
He rubbed his cheeks and chin in her wet folds, the scrape of his beard itchy and exciting. Then he flattened his tongue and licked her up and down, making sure to pay more attention to the tight, hot bud at the top.
Before long, Diana rocked her head side to side and tapped his back with her heels, while she moaned and shrieked, because he surprised her, licking her, then biting her, stroking his fingers inside her pussy, teasing her asshole. Things she couldn’t prepare herself to accept because he never gave her warning.
“Bastard,” she gasped when his tongue dipped into her anus. This wasn’t happening, he wasn’t doing that.
In the next instant, she yelped because he stood and gripped her waist, shoving her toward the center of the bed, then climbing quickly over her.
When he lay atop her, his weight propped on his elbows, his cock resting on her mound, he smiled down at her. “I love the sounds you make. Do you know you chirp?”
“That was a squeal.”
“Sounded like a cricket.”
“You surprised me.”
He bent and flicked his tongue against her earlobe. “And what was that other sound. Sounded like a squeaky door.”
“It was a moan, you idiot, that you interrupted when you…did that thing.”
“That thing? Do you mean when I tongue-fucked your ass?”
She clapped her hand over his mouth. “Don’t say that. It never happened.”
He bit her fingers.
“Ouch!”
“Don’t get in the way.”
And then he was scooting downward, this time hovering over her breasts.
“They’re small,” she said, wrinkling her nose.
“You could always gain fifty pounds. There’d be more.”
“You want me to gain fifty pounds to make my boobs bigger?”
“No, but if you want them bigger, I’m game. Just more of you to bounce against.”
She couldn’t help it. She laughed. “You say the most ridiculous things.”
“I like your tits,” he said, dropping a kiss on one distended nipple then the other.
“Good to know,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest because he was staring so intently.
He grabbed her arms and moved them to her sides. “Stop hiding.” He stuck out his tongue and licked around one dark circle. “You’re soft everywhere—but here the most,” he said, giving her another lick. Then he latched onto the tip and drew hard, like he was sucking a milkshake through a straw.
Her toes curled. More fluid trickled down her channel. “Troy, please.” She gripped his ears and pulled him.
He slid upward. His cock pushed against her folds, and he paused to reach downward and part them so that he could set his fat head against her opening. When he glanced toward her face, he gave her a tight smile. “Almost there. Think you’re ready?”
She shook her head. “Do you always talk this much during sex?”
“I don’t know. I tend to talk when I’m nervous.”
She canted her head. “You’re nervous about doing this with me?”
He nodded and gave her another quick smile. “You’re…so fucking sexy. Perfect. Still can’t believe you gave me the time of day, much less access to your pretty cunt.”
She smacked his shoulder.
He waggled his eyebrows.
“I’m older than you.”
“Are you?” he said, sounding surprised.
“Thirty-three.”
“Ancient!”
She smacked him again.
“And I’m twenty-eight. So, not a huge difference, babe.”
“Guess it doesn’t matter. It’s just sex.”
“And for that…” he pushed inside her, coming steadily up her channel, leaving her no chance to catch her breath, no time to get used to his size. He was just there. Deep inside her. His arms around her. His body over her. No escaping his steady gaze or the strength of will evident in his taut features.
She drew a ragged breath, widened her legs, then lifted her knees, easing them alongside his hips, hugging them, like she wanted to hug him, but couldn’t because her arms were trapped against his chest.
“This what you do when a girl pisses you off?” she asked.
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