This ihe last of the guest bloggers I had lined up for when I was supposed to be away at RAW. I’ll be back with you tomorrow! ~DD

Everyone has experienced walking alone into a party or the first day at a new job, right? You’re positive everyone else knows everyone while you’re the new kid on the block, the unknown. Unless you do everything right, they’re going to gossip about you. Heck, they’re going to anyway.

That’s me, new kid on the Delilah Devlin blog block. Guess there’s nothing to do but introduce myself. First, to explain what I’m doing here, Delilah and I have been bumping into each other online for who knows how long. When she put out the call for guest bloggers, I thought, “Great way to reach out and potentially meet some new readers.”

So here I am, Vonna Harper, hopelessly addicted erotica writer. If you don’t believe it, check out my titles at www.VonnaHarper.com. I swear, I need an intervention to get me to slow down and smell the roses which are looking fabulous, thank you very much. Summer’s nearly over. I need to get out in my garden before the ground squirrels and deer make off with every last tomato and zucchini.

Instead I write. A lot. For Kensington Aphrodisia in print, Ellora’s Cave where I started, Samhain, and Loose Id. I’m also knocking on Carina’s door hoping someone will let me in. I’ve written book lengths, novellas, and quickies and love the different formats.

Back in the olden days when I was writing category romance, providing a synopsis for the various editors was a given. What worked for me was to play with the first three or so chapters until I felt I had a handle on my characters, setting, and plot. Then I’d put on my synopsis hat and sweat through a direction for the rest of the story.

These days, even with Kensington, I no longer have to carve out a point by point, at least not on paper. Most times I go by a page or so of absolute nonsense about my characters’ backgrounds, their goals, and what stands in the way of their goals no one will ever see as I jump into a project. And about opportunities for my characters to jump in the sack, can’t forget that. Crazy folks that they are, Kensington has been offering me three book contracts based on my track record. They figure I can get from point A to Z all by myself.

Ha! Time for reality to bite me on the butt, again. Awhile back I’d sent my Samhain editor what I call erotic suspense, about 50,000 words worth. Well dang it, she allowed as how she isn’t a suspense fan so decided not to offer me a contract.

What, a whole book wasted effort? Not gonna happen, at least not without trying to find a publisher. Enter Carina Press/Publishing and a recent call-out for more erotica on their part. By golly, I thought, I’ll give it a try. So I went to their site believing all I’d to do is send the manuscript in the right format to the right email address and then sit back and see what happens.

Wrong! They want a synopsis. From 2-4 pages as I recall. Huh? What’s that? I’ve forgotten. Gnashing my teeth, I sat down at the computer and opened two files, one with the story in it, the other blank and mocking titled SYNOPSIS. Back and forth I went, back and forth, trying to keep it short and yet illuminating. I’d written the story awhile ago and had finished several other stories since then. As a result, I’d lost contact with my characters. Their motivations and relationship was rusty to me. Because its suspense, there’s a pretty strong plot with twists and turns and suspects. How to keep track of them without giving away too much too soon?

I did it. Only took a whole day to write those four frickin pages. Will I do it again? If I have no choice. I’d rather fly by the seat of my pants, trusting that my writing muscles will continue to work. This explaining the process is hard work. I don’t do well ‘Writing It Backward’.

And while I have your attention, my newest Ellora’s Cave release Silent Heat will be out on Sept. 24. Here’s a peak at Silent Heat. I also have a couple of print releases out, Cougar’s Captive and my novella On The Prowl in the Sexy Beast 9 anthology, both with Aphrodisia.

Finally, a question. How do you research erotica you might be interested in? Do you rely on reviews offered by the various review sites both print and online? Recommendations? Trust in a particular publisher? Author name? Subgenre? As a writer, promotion is both fascinating and overwhelming.

Thanks for your time, Vonna Harper, writing addict.

Multiple personalities & a contest!!
By T.L. Schaefer

Howdy, all! I’m Terri Schafer (aka TL Schaefer, aka Keira Ramsay) and today I’m hijacking Delilah’s blog for a bit. As you can see from the very first sentence, I have um…identity issues. Actually, not so much, but when I started writing erotic romance as frequently as I was publishing romantic suspense, something had to give. I just couldn’t write super-steamy stuff as TL…it didn’t seem right, and I’d started writing as TL, so folks were used to reading more about intrigue than lots of explicit sex. As soon as my newsletter readers named me Keira as my erotic pseudonym, though, I was off and running.

Over the years, I’ve had a few folks scratch their heads over my multiple personalities, but after I explain, they get it…it’s not only part of my process, but almost more of a branding thing. Yeah, that’s my story and I’m sticking to it.

Regardless of what name I’m writing under, I’ve always been totally up front about what each of those names mean. At first I was a little hinky about being loud and proud in public (read, places where readers weren’t)…after all, I work for the DoD (as a civilian, not active duty), and big government isn’t exactly known for it’s liberal or artistic tendencies *G*. I quickly got over that when my boss (a full-bird colonel) introduced me to a colleague years ago. “This is Terri Schaefer. She writes pornography in her off-duty hours.” I turned about six shades of purple, shook the visiting colonel’s hand and fled to my office. I would have been upset with my boss, but he obviously took such pride and glee in saying it (he was proud of me and has NO social skills), I quickly got over myself, and started hamming it up. Since then there’s been no looking back, and I’ve been surprised at how much more accepting folks are. Women look at me with that little twinkle in their eye, and men ask for my website so they can show their wives. Not a bad gig at all.

Sooo, now that I’ve shown mine, show me yours *G*!! Tell me about one of your more embarrassing moments as they relate to reading or writing romance and I’ll pick a winner of a choice of any of my backlist, as either Terri OR Keira!! Contest ends 19 September.

Lastly, if you like your heroes in uniform (be they cops, firefighters, or military) and your heroines with a bit of quirk, then wing by www.tlschaefer.com and check out an excerpt or two to wet your whistle!

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Behind Blue Eyes is a 3 August 2010 release from Samhain Publishing.

Crime-scene photographer Sara Covington hides behind her camera from the otherworldly ability that’s caused her nothing but grief her whole life. Yet denial doesn’t protect her when she runs across a serial killer with an aural signature she’s never encountered.

Suddenly she’s without a job and with nowhere to turn…except to an enigmatic, sexy-as-hell detective with a disquieting talent for seeing right through her defenses.

Brian Roney’s fascination with Sara compels him to bring her in on the case that ultimately gets her fired. Even though he senses her mutual attraction, something holds her back from stepping into his arms. He’s as determined to find out why she’s pushing him away as he is to keep her safe.

When the killer strikes again, Sara realizes the only way to stop the madman is come clean about her painful past—and embrace the gift she has so long denied. Before the grisly trail of bodies leads right to her doorstep.

Warning: A sexy alpha cop, a heroine with a past (and super spidey sense) and a maniac on the loose…what’s not to love?

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Now—Dallas, Texas, Tuesday, 8:30 a.m.

If I’d known when I woke up this morning that my life was going to change in a major way—again—I probably would have pulled the covers over my head and hidden like the coward I am.

Instead, I was actually pretty chipper as I took Xena for her morning walk, both of us enjoying the springtime morning sun. Guess that should have been an indicator of things to come.

Around us, the residents of Deep Ellum were going about their business, strolling into the weirdly trendy shops, grabbing cappuccinos, letting their dogs run free in the pocket park. I’d bet if I tipped my glasses down most of their auras would be relaxed and happy. But even as carefree as I felt this morning, opening myself up to strangers’ auras and emotions wasn’t in the cards on any day. At least when I wasn’t on the job, that is.

I slipped Xena off her leash and she scampered through the grass, her tail waving like a flag. Yeah, a shih tzu is such a girly dog, but hey, what can I say? I’m a girl, and the pooch gives me unconditional love. These days I take all the simple joys I can get.

I rescued her from an animal shelter only a few hours before she was to be put down. Don’t ask me what drew me to the SPCA; it’s not like I was looking for a companion, but I found one, nonetheless. Maybe it was two lost souls calling to one another. I’m just glad we found each other in time.

At the thought, a shiver of foreboding rippled through me, making me glance left, then right. There was nothing different about the people surrounding me, or the day in general that seemed out of place. But even as normal as it seemed, I’d learned to trust my intuition a long time ago. I whistled for Xena and boogied back to the loft. With each step I took toward home, my spine became stiffer and my heart heavier.

As I climbed the stairs to my haven, certainty hit me like a punch. There’d be another murder tonight, in my division, and I’d be called in to shoot it. Not that there was any shortage of violent crimes in Dallas on any given night, but the cloud-blotting-the-sun feeling I’d had in the park told me this one would be different. Time to suit up and put my game face on.

Shit. Sometimes being “gifted” with the Sight was a good thing. Most of the time it was a bitch.

Many thanks to my guest today for her inspiring post! ~DD

When I realized I’d be doing my guest post on September 11, I drew a blank. The usual topics about writing process or what makes a hero hot seemed inappropriate on a date associated with tragedy, grief and rage.

Then I got an email from a friend that he and his crew would be taking part in Flags on the 48 and I knew what my theme would be.

This morning at roughly 5:45 AM, my friend Randy Pierce, his fiancée Tracy and a group of hiking friends gathered at the trailhead of New Hampshire’s 4459-foot Mount Liberty—with a big American flag. If all goes well with the hike, “their” flag will fly for a time on the top of this challenging peak, as flags will from all the 48 peaks over 4000 feet in New Hampshire’s White Mountains, in honor of those who died on September 11, 2001 and those who serve in the armed forces. On some peaks, during some periods of time, flags from other nations may join the American flag, since people from more than sixty countries died at the World Trade Center and they all deserve to be remembered.

On September 15, 2001, a group of six hikers who knew each other from Adirondack Mountain Club message boards ascended Mount Liberty with a big flag, some PVC poles and rope and a bunch of duct tape. To quote the event web site, “In a small demonstration of their helplessness and compassion in the wake of incomprehensible violence, these six hikers ascended with heavy hearts to raise the American flag from the summit of Mount Liberty. This was their personal tribute to the thousands of men, women and children who perished in the attacks.”

And since then, hikers have been climbing some of the more beautiful and yet most treacherous mountains in the country (there are taller mountains, certainly, but the White Mountains hold their own for spectacular scenery and spectacular ways to kill yourself) with flags and rigging in their backpacks, to commemorate the dead and affirm life.

What does this have to do with writing? It’s a reminder to look at familiar stories in new ways. Much of the narrative about September 11, 2001 has been one of anger, vengeance, or hopelessness in the face of world forces we can’t affect. Courage as well, but lately we’ve been hearing more about “Burn a Koran Day” than we have about 9/11/01 demonstrating courage and hope in the face of adversity.

So today, let’s think about flags flying on the 48, about what that symbolizes. About heroes and heroines who have the courage to chance the narrative, to take a story about anger and hatred and turn it into one of hope and compassion.

And while we’re thinking about courage and hope, let me mention an important member of the team hiking Mount Liberty with my friend Randy today: his guide dog Quinn.

Randy is completely blind due to a rare neurological disorder, which also causes near-constant vertigo. He still climbs mountains. He’s turned his passion for climbing into a non-profit, 2020 Vision Quest, that aims to inspire others to “Achieve a vision beyond your sight” and in the process raise funds for several organizations that work directly with blind people. (Check out the web site. It’s a hugely inspiring story.)

Here’s the other writing and romance-novel tie-in for today: Heroes and heroines lurk where you might not expect them and bravery takes many forms. I write paranormals, so my heroes and heroines have extraordinary traits as shapeshifting or powerful magic. They’re larger than life, face down demons, save the world.

But I hope someday to create a character who has the guts and determination that my friend Randy shows today, climbing Mount Liberty blind to raise a flag and people’s dreams, or the imagination and hope demonstrated by those first six hikers in an international time of grief nine years ago.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Teresa Noelle Roberts’ most recent book is Foxes’ Den (Duals and Donovans: The Different, Book 2), released in August by Samhain. To brighten the mood after a rather somber post, here’s a blurb:

Some guys just don’t take rejection well. Sure, Akane’s affair with an uptight sorcerer’s boy toy backfired, but two hundred years locked in a mortal body is cruel and unusual punishment for a Trickster avatar. To free her fox form, she needs sex magic with a male of her own kind. Except none exist.

Adorable Trickster-touched fox dual Taggart Ross-Donovan is the closest she’s found. Even better, he’s married to Paul Donovan, whose red magic sizzles the air around him. One night with them will generate the extraordinary power needed to set her free.

The last thing Tag and Paul expect to find under a sorcerer’s curse is a beautiful kitsune who gets under their skin without even trying.

No one goes into the ritual with more hope than Akane…or more fear. Failure will leave her forever entrapped. Worse, she’s falling for two mortals. And there’s only one thing that can kill a kitsune—unrequited love.

Warning: Contains sly fox men (with tails), foxy fox women (with multiple tails), sexy witches chasing tail, Trickster magic, cranky sorcerers, and enough gay, het and MMF sex to torch your Kindle.

Read an Excerpt

M.J.’s an old friend of mine from Texas. We knew each other well before either of us was published. I’m so happy for her success! Here’s a note from her:

Sunrise over Texas is my first historical. 1820s Texas was a pretty wild place, and not very settled. I figured a woman living in that environment wouldn’t have the same restrictions put on her as a woman living in society would, so I could make Kit pretty darned independent. THAT was a lot of fun. She knew her own mind and could hold her own. See if you agree.

Texas Frontier, 1826

Kit Barclay followed her husband into the wilds of Texas only to be widowed. Stranded with her mother- and sister- in-law to care for, with no hope of rescue before winter sets in, Kit has only one goal: survival. So when a lone horseman appears on the horizon, and then falls from his mount in fever, Kit must weigh the safety of her family against offering aid and shelter to the handsome stranger.

Trace Watson has lost everything that ever mattered to him. Trying to forget, he heads to the frontier colony of San Felipe, not caring if he lives or dies. But when he wakes to discover he’s being nursed back to health by a brave young widow, he vows to repay her kindness by guiding the three women back to civilization, no matter what the cost.

Soon, Kit and Trace are fighting the elements, Indian attacks and outlaws—as well as feelings they both thought were long buried…

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Trace woke to the sound of rustling hay and turned on his bedroll to see a vision in white standing over him, lit in the moonlight that spilled through the open window at the
apex of the barn’s roof. He scrambled up to sitting.

“Kit, what’s wrong?”

She lifted his bedroll and nudged him with her knee. He scooted over obligingly.

“Almanzo is just over there,” he protested, raising on his elbows and trying to see his friend in the darkness.

“He’s gone to Graciela.”

He reached past the sleep cobwebs in his head to comprehend her words. “How do you know?”

“I watched him leave. I couldn’t sleep.” She tucked her arm across his waist and rested her head against his chest.

There was nothing sexual in her touch, but his body responded to her closeness, her scent. He stared at the window, willing himself to stay in control. “You can’t do this every time you can’t sleep.”

“Do you want me to go?” she asked, her voice low with the confidence of a woman who already knew the answer.

“Agnes is bound to find out.” A thought occurred to him. “You aren’t doing this so she will get mad, are you? To break away from her?”

“All I want to break away from is being sad all the time. You make me happy.” Her fingers stroked the fabric of his shirt. “I don’t want you to go out with the rangers tomorrow.”

He chuckled. “Don’t you have confidence in your teaching?”

She lifted her head to rest her chin on his chest, her face partly illuminated by the moonlight through the high window. “We’re only just now safe. And you’re ready to put yourself in danger again.”

“I want to do my part. We might not have fared so well if Almanzo and his rangers hadn’t arrived when they did.”

“I know but—I’m afraid.” To counter the vulnerability of her words, she cocked her head and smiled. “I’ve grown rather fond of you.”

Her confession warmed him more than he wanted to admit, and made his heart swell. He turned onto his side to stroke his thumb over her cheek. “Not just the lovemaking?” The question revealed his own insecurities, and he regretted it the moment it left his mouth.

She reached up to trail her fingers over his jaw, his lips. “Seeing you, hearing you, touching you. And making love to you.” She reached down and lifted her gown, then unfastened his long johns as she eased him onto his back, lying over him, her breasts against his chest, guiding him into her with a little gasp. He moaned at the suddenness of her move, and in surprise at how ready she was, how slick. She began to move, just little bumps and slides that were sweet and a little awkward and arousing as hell. He got harder and harder as her body moved shallowly up and down his sex in a strange rhythm, as her mouth sought his. He fisted his hands in the skirt of her gown so he wouldn’t tumble her onto her back and plow into her like a mad man. Without warning, she found her release, her sex growing slicker, clenching him, and she sat over him, straddling, bringing him deeper.

He couldn’t help himself. His hips surged upward, into her tight body, again and again until he came, pulsing into her body.

Perhaps creating a child.

It was the first time he’d had the thought follow so hard on the heels of making love to her, the first time he’d considered becoming a father again that the idea didn’t scare the life from him. Instead he drew her over him, wrapping both arms around her and pressing kisses into her hair as he caught his breath.

The first words he wanted to say were, “I love you.”

Now that scared the life out of him, because he did. Loving someone, then losing her, was the hardest thing he’d ever done.

“You’re very quiet,” she murmured, resting her chin on the back of her hand to look up at him.

“A touch overwhelmed.”

“By my need to be in control?”

“No, I like your need to be in control very much.” He gave into his urge to curve his hands over her hips, and then he slid them down her buttocks to her thighs.

She sucked in her breath, and her eyes darkened as he grew hard inside her again.

“Do you feel like taking control again?”

“I might be willing to—oh! To give it up. Just this once.”

With a chuckle, he tumbled her onto her back.

*****
What kind of characteristics to you like to see in a heroine, historical or otherwise?

Until you’ve lost your reputation, you never realize
what a burden it was, or what freedom really is.
~ Harper Lee

I want to be like that one day. A one-line quote in The Goddess Within mini-book. Guess I better start saying pithy, quotable things, huh?

I’m supposed to be winging my way to West Virginia today. And there’s supposed to be a guest blogger here, but she didn’t show up. So it was fate, right? I’m not supposed to be at Lora Leigh’s big party this year. Nope, instead I’m sitting in my jammies, nursing a cold. I’ve emptied two bottles of Nyquil (lovely stuff) and a box of Kleenex (the kind with the aloe because my poor nose is sore).

Yesterday, I thought since it’s so warm still outside and the pool water is still in the 80’s, what difference does it make if I’m wet? Hmmm…my ears ache now because I couldn’t help myself. I couldn’t just look at the bugs and leaves the robot wasn’t sucking up. I went “pearl-diving”.

Back to that quote from the author of To Kill a Mockingbird. I flipped through my little book looking for inspiration, and that quote was the first to catch my eye. Why? It really struck home. I spent a lot of years in the military, a corporate job, a classroom—and I had to hide the wild child inside me. When I started writing, I let my inner vixen free to roam wherever. I kept my identity a state secret.

These days, I don’t care. I no longer pull a paycheck from anyone who cares what I do with the rest of my time, or what my morals are. I am free to be me. People ask what I write, and if they are old enough to send into cardiac arrest, I say, “I write very racy romances,” and give them a wink. Sorry, had to pause to clean the screen. I sneezed. The rest, I tell them I write in the very lucrative genre of erotic fiction. I don’t have a reputation left to lose—unless it’s for writing really steamy, really nasty pervy books. I’m loud and proud and out!

So, no more soapbox. Just thanks to everyone who’s bought my latest two releases. Four Sworn and Pleasing Sir are chugging along nicely as far as I can tell. I really don’t know how to get the word out any better than I do. I know this blog has a limited audience—mostly friends who’ve been with me a while. I kind of like that, but I would also like to know how to reach more people, because one of these days, I’d love to have an even bigger, badder rep. 😈

Thanks to everyone who made yesterday’s release day so perfect! And although I’ve had to cancel my trip to West Virginia for Lora Leigh’s RAW due to illness, I still have friends scheduled to take over this blog for the next few days. I might poke my head in the door occasionally, but I will be resting for the most part. Thanks again for your support and all your wonderful comments concerning Four Sworn! ~DD

Paranormal Logistics In a Semi-Normal World
by Fiona Jayde

As a writer, I love the art of world building. As a reader, I eagerly devour different worlds and customs and rules other writers create to spin their tales. I love seeing how fellow authors take common elements of vampires, werewolves, angels, witches, heaven and hell and everything in between and make it unique and sparkling. But being me, I always wonder about the logistics. Are there bathrooms in hell? Don’t people (and by people I mean angels, demons, weres of any species, witches, humans and humanoids) need to clean up after steamy love making? When weres shift, what the heck happens to their clothing and other personal items?

I’ve ran into that last problem head first when planning my paranormal series. My Bloodwolves (or Lycks) shift into fairly large wolves, and I had to make the hard decision to either somehow let them keep their clothing, or follow the rules of physics (such as they are) and make the clothes tear off. Torn clothing does leave a lot of nice possibilities for those steamy love scenes. But in reality (again—forgive the word), who wants to run around a city buck naked?

Nakedness aside, how do paranormal creatures live? Do they have money? You need at least a couple of bucks to buy a fresh bag of blood (we’re talking good vampires here—baddies will just eat and run). Do werewolves/angels/witches work? Pay rent? Buy toothpaste?

With so many excellent examples before me, I turned to the masters. Angela Knight in her Mageverse series allows her weres clothing to “meld” to their bodies– they chalk it up to magic, simple and clean and brilliant. JR Ward’s vampires have access to millions—probably because they are so old they’ve had ample time to mature their investments. Buffy the Vampire slayer got a job at a fast food joint to pay the bills. And Spike had a nice crypt—and though we never did see a bathroom, one would assume the undead don’t have need of facilities.

All these choices have significant effect on the characters and their conflicts, and overall storylines. In my case, I decided I liked torturing my characters. Which meant that they can’t just shift on a whim in plain sight because it can be embarrassing getting stuck in one’s own pant legs. With no opposable thumbs to help take those things off.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The first installment of a kickass paranormal series, Night Haven introduced readers to the world of vampires, bloodwolves and pulse pounding action.

Coming September 21 to Samhain Publishing

Desire cuts both ways…
Nothing gives Dina more pleasure than leaving the vampires she hunts to the mercy of the dawn. And yet most humans she is sworn to protect seem all too happy to offer up their necks. She has vowed never to be like those needy creatures yet, three months ago, she allowed a vampire to kiss her. The memory still makes her body burn—and her skin heat with humiliation.

For over twenty empty years, Luke has lived in a world of dead pleasure and burning sunrise, feeding off those who long for immortality and taboo thrills. Only his art makes him feel half-alive. Until one night in a dark, moody nightclub, where a reckless, amber-eyed bloodwolf left behind her clean, sharp scent—and an ache in his blood nothing but another taste can ease.

Finally, with the chance to purge Luke out of her system, Dina moves in for the kill. But she comes to a horrifying realization. She can no longer shift, and the desire to taste him—body, soul and blood—is making her crazy. As an enraged bloodwolf threatens to rip them both apart, she may just be crazy enough to trust Luke with her life.

Warning: Contains interspecies lust between a bloodwolf and a vampire, and desire thick enough to cut with a blade.

Read an excerpt here!

I have two winners’ announcements to make. Thanks to everyone who helped me get the word out about Pleasing Sir! The names of the winners are listed at the bottom of this post.

There’s a wild child trapped inside her, and they’re hell-bent on unleashing it…

As the pretty daughter of the town whore, Shanna Davies has always tried hard to toe the line. But she just can’t help it. Her boyfriend, Bo Crenshaw, has lured her untamed spirit out to play once too often. It’s time to get the hell out of Dodge and make a new start where no one knows her past. After she fulfills one last, wicked fantasy.

Shanna is Bo’s first everything. First kiss, first sexual playmate, first love. Yet he’s never managed to convince her that he accepts her—good girl and bad—just as she is. So, she wants a memorable send off? No problem. He’ll give her one that’ll make her think twice about leaving.

On the appointed night, Shanna expects nerves. Yet once she crosses the threshold, the prospect of surrendering to a night of unrestrained passion with Bo and the three Kinzie brothers makes her mouth water—and her courage dry up.

But she asked for it, and now she’s not about to blink first in this game of sexual chicken…

Warning: Four lusty cowboys prove a little domination goes a long way in breaking a stubborn woman to saddle. Lots of spanking, binding, flogging, and double-dipping can keep a girl on her toes, her back, her belly, her knees…

Purchase your copy here for just $2.25: Four Sworn at MB&M

Here’s an excerpt. Enjoy!

Bo gave Shanna a quick kiss then slid all the way inside her, sighing as her moist heat enveloped him. It had been far too long since the last time she’d succumbed to her natural urges and begged him for a quick “dick-fix”.

Her legs wrapped around his hips and hugged him so hard he had to thrust a couple of times to remind her to give him a little room to move.

As he got down to work, his cock rocking inside her lava-hot little channel, he blessed his Boy Scout training for his foresight to stuff a thick blanket behind the seat of his truck. It gave him just enough padding beneath his knees to keep him comfortable and to shield Shanna’s back from the cooling metal.

“This workin’ for ya?” He tried to sound nonchalant when what he really wanted to do was let out a whoop it felt so good.

She gave him a coy look from beneath her lashes. “You needin’ a little praise?”

She lifted her head and scooped his mouth with hers, fluttering her tongue over his bottom lip until he growled and consumed her like a bear dipping into a honey jar. She giggled into his mouth, and he pulled back, making a face. Moonlight shone so bright he could see the gleeful humor digging dimples deep into her cheeks.
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