romancewithsass.com

To my mind, it was all it was cracked up to be. We did it up well, staying at the MGM Grande one of the biggies on the Strip. Saw shows, paid eye popping amounts of money of very nice dinners, sat by the pool (well I did anyway), got a veeeerrrry sexy massage (ditto), gambled a wee bit (ended up ahead by $150 after 3 days) and met some new friends as we bar hopped trying to find the most over the top one possible. The Luxor has the best one, hands down. Check it out. And I even experienced my first strip club. The Spearmint Rhino was truly eye opening and fun on many levels. But that’s another post…

We liked it so much we turned around and went back out there for the fabled Consumer Electronics Show (CES) which dovetails every year with the AVN (Adult Video Network awards show and expo). 

Uh huh, electronic geeks and porn stars. Vegas was sizzling. I met some porn stars, rode a bucking bronco shaped like a phallus (I have photo proof trust me), got to be part of a “portable” pole dance show (I’m not shy in case you have not guessed), the works.

I love the feeling of landing at the Las Vegas airport. It’s like all your cares and woes are behind you. You’re entering a world of sheer fantasy and do-what-you-will exuberance that rivals any boring old beach vacation. I’ve been way naughty there, in ways I never imagined, and don’t regret a single moment of it!

In my upcoming novel, Vegas Miracle, I channeled the energy boost I get every time I go to Sin City. Vegas Miracle is not set entirely in Vegas but the city is at its heart.

I hope you enjoy it!

Blurb: Vegas Miracle

Ryan and Grace Sullivan have all the outward indications of a happy life: money, success, an undeniable physical attraction that quickly evolved from whirlwind relationship to marriage. But lately, Ryan's become moody and distant. As their relationship starts to crumble, Ryan discovers something about himself he can't admit just as Grace realizes the young man she encounters at an invitation only party, Henri Christophe, a celebrity chef with the most successful restaurant in Las Vegas, is her husband's lover. But Henri holds a secret himself. He wants to be more to both of them.

Trying to make their unconventional arrangement work, Ryan's deep-seated fear of relationship failure continues to thwart everyone's happiness. When he finally walks away instead of confronting the emotional connection the trio share, he returns to find their lives flipped inside out. A sought after hotel and resort consultant, Ryan has yet to meet a problem he couldn't solve. But when it comes to his own heart, Ryan may be too late.

 
EXCERPT:

(Ryan and Grace have just attended a very exclusive, invitation only lifestyle party where she has met, and had sex with Henri, Ryan’s lover. Ryan didn’t know about Henri’s plan to do that, alone, without him. He wasn’t happy about it but in his typical emotionally constipated way, he simply left the party and headed back to his private office/condo.)

 Slumped down in the lounge chair, he brooded about his predicament, holding his phone in one hand and toying with the idea of just calling his wife and bringing her to the condo – mere blocks from the one he shared with her—and laying it all out on the table. She wasn’t stupid. The intense moment back at the party was pretty telling, Ryan realized. It wouldn’t take her long to put the pieces together and God only knows what Henri told her after Ryan stomped out instead of facing them together.

Visions of Grace, her sleeping face, her body hunched over a keyboard as she entered her writing zone, biting her lip while she picked out the right bottle of wine for dinner, all flitted through his head. He knew damn good and well he was cheating her. Not just cheating ON her, but cheating her out of his whole self. He was only truly realizing it after several recent arguments over his "emotional constipation" and "aloof, bullshit attitude" about things that mattered to her, like kids. That and Henri’s constant harping about how he should open up to her more.

What he couldn’t tell her or Henri was that he was terrified. Down deep he was petrified at the thought of failing at marriage. But also of her finding out about Henri, and about his own need for the man. She was going to be crushed but he had hoped to ease her into it. To convince her he could love them equally somehow.

"Right," he scoffed to himself. He couldn’t even effectively convince her he felt anything beyond the drive to succeed. She reminded him of this repeatedly. And she was right, on one level. He was driven and successful and enjoyed the trappings and rewards and tried to share them with her. He stood up and leaned on the balcony railing, taking deep breaths of cool night air, trying like hell to calm his wildly spinning brain.

Ryan closed his eyes at the sound of the key in the lock. He didn’t move as Henri entered, made a tsk-tsk sound over the mess in the foyer, grabbed a glass and the bourbon decanter and joined him on the balcony. The sound of liquid splashing into the glass and the hiss of the fabric as Henri eased back into his chair brought no response from Ryan. He remained standing, staring at the night sky, unable to form words as his lover of nearly two years sat and watched him in silence.

"Just what, exactly were you hoping to accomplish by fucking my wife?" He finally asked, keeping his eyes trained on the horizon.

Henri stood and leaned over the balcony, mirroring Ryan’s stance.

"I thought it was why you brought her. But I'll say, you were right. She's amazing."  Henri sipped his bourbon and looked at the tall blonde beside him.

Ryan turned to look into Henri’s deep brown eyes, the eyes that held him the moment they met in France two years ago. That compulsion, the weekend they shared together, led him places he never imagined he’d go and now he couldn’t give it up. He shook his head and looked back out over the Detroit River, remorse and dread twisting in his gut.

He shut his eyes once more as he felt Henri’s hands on his shoulders, kneading, smoothing out the tension in his muscles.

"You can’t distract me. I’m hugely pissed off at you."

"I know, but at least you won’t be tense so you can really focus on the anger. Now sit so I can reach you properly."

Ryan sighed, suppressing a smile at the man’s ability to defuse. It was a talent he wished Grace had. Her tendency was to ramp up the ante, to find the sore spot and grind her heel into it until Ryan lashed out, making the whole thing much worse than it usually was. Sitting, pouring himself one final splash of bourbon, he let Henri work on his shoulders and upper back, groaning as the knots untied and his neck lost some of its rigid stress.

"Ow, Jesus," Ryan yelped when Henri’s knuckle dug into his trapezoid.

"Shut up already," the young man’s voice was airy, relaxed. "Let me work."

After about twenty solid minutes spent over Ryan’s shoulders and upper back, Henri leaned down to his ear.

"She’ll be okay."  Ryan turned and frowned, wincing as the freshly released nerves in his neck sang out in protest.

"You don’t have to treat her with kid gloves, Ryan. She’s a grown woman, a successful author. She's used to being on her own. Just because you swept her off her feet in an admittedly really romantic fashion doesn’t mean she needs to be coddled like some hot house rose."

"I think I know how to handle…"

Henri took his hands off Ryan’s shoulders.

            "You know what, I don’t think you do. And that’s part of the problem."

            Henri flopped into his chair and propped his bare feet up. Ryan stared at him.

            "I hardly think a guy who managed to stay married about thirty minutes is qualified…"

            Henri held a hand up.

            "Don’t be condescending. I never claimed to know anything about women. I just think I have a handle on this one—you know, the one we want to share our lives with?"  He raised an eyebrow at Ryan.

BIO:

Microbrewery owner, beer blogger and journalist, mom of three teenagers, and soccer fan, Liz lives in the great middle west, in a Major College Town. Years of experience in sales and fund raising, plus an eight-year stint as an ex-pat trailing spouse plus making her way in a world of men (i.e. the beer industry) has prepped her for life as erotic romance author. When she isn't sweating beer inventory, sales figures or promotional efforts for her latest publication, doing pounds of laundry for her sweaty athletic children, watching La Liga on the Fox Soccer Channel, or trying to figure out what to order in for dinner, she can be found walking her standard poodles or doing Bikram Yoga. Liz loves her Foo Fighters Pandora station, and watching reruns of Deadwood, when there isn't any decent European football on the telly. If you want a beer education follow her: www.a2beerwench.com. For writing related stuff, including her backlist, go to: www.brewingpassion.com.

Thank you Margie for having me here today.

I am excited and nervous to announce that Musa Publishing has finally launched and is live. So much hard work from so many people have gone into Musa and to see it form from just four ladies, Celina Summers, Kerry Mand, Kelly Shorten, and myself throwing around the idea of us starting our own publishing company into this nearly living breathing creature is amazing. We couldn’t have done it without the amazing Authors, Editors, Readers, Marketing, and our Formatting Director (or as I like to call her the director of making it look pretty), Cory.

It’s been a team effort, one that has forged a bond between everyone.

I am also thrilled to announce that the first two books in my Sherman Series have been reworked and will be re- released this month by Musa.  Hunting JC will be released on October 20^th and Tony’s Haven on the 28^th. And yes I am currently working on book three. J

But my big excitement, and baby, is the Wiccan Haus Series an author-driven series, meaning multiple authors can contribute, that launches in November. The first book Shifting Hearts, is a story about Rekkus the head of security for the Wiccan Haus spa and resort and Dana a client of the resort.  The trouble comes when Dana discovers the man she is lusting after is more than a mere man but also a Were-tiger.  

The Series revolves around the four Rowan Siblings

Sarka Rowan is the Alchemist - Though her arts are more directed at the paranormal in need of potions for one reason or another, she has been known to assist the rare human. She absolutely won't create a love potion or bring someone back from the dead. Neither ever works out well. She is dark and her style is very Goth. Though not a vampire, she has been mistaken for one on more than one occasion. This pisses her off because she hates vampires with a passion, especially after having a bad relationship with one.

Cyrus Rowan is the Retro-cog - when he touches an item, he is able to see the past of the current owner. Very handy when they find an item and do not know who it belongs to. He is uncomfortable with his gift and uses it very rarely. He wears gloves so as not overwhelmed with information from items he touches. He is broad in stature and acts more as the bouncer and peace keeper than an active member of the healing troupe. His wardrobe consists of black jeans, black combat boots, black T-shirts and black glasses.

Cemil Rowan is the Empath  - Though he can sense a person’s feeling from a great distance, even though the phone while taking reservations, his true powers come when he can physically hold the hands of the person he is trying to heal. Cemil is more whimsical than the others. His style is bright and fun. But don’t let the whimsy fool you: this man can take down the largest of werewolves—um, wolves if the need arises.

Sage Rowan is the Herbalist - her gift is the ability to know just what herbs she needs to add to the client’s shakes, foods, candles and soaps to help with their need to heal. She is sunny and always cheery. Her style is very bohemian-meets-flower child.

If you are an author and would like more information about adding your story to the Wiccan Haus series please email me wiccanhaus.Musapublishing.com

Thanks again for having me and please stop by Musa Publishing and we what we have to offer. http://www.musapublishing.com/

Friend me on Facebook http://facebook.com/dominique.eastwick

Follow me on Twitter @dominieastwick

Blog  http://dominiqueeastwick.blogspot.com/

Website www.DominiqueEastwick.com

Cindi Myers

West with the Wind

More than gold awaits two lovers at the end of the trail.

And the return to writing after five years for USA Today Bestselling Author

Sharon De Vita

The Estrogen Posse 

"The Estrogen Posse is a hoot! I laughed, I cried, I couldn't put it down! For every woman who needs a pick me up, this is the book for you!"
Janet Evanovich, NYT bestselling author of the Stephanie Plum mystery series

Musa has acquired Aurora Regency and Aurora Regency Historicals. Within the next month over forty books in this line will be available to Regency and Historical Romance buffs to enjoy.

Stop by www.MusaPublishing.com check out the books already for sale as well as those coming soon. Over the next few weeks, Musa will offer literature geared for every reader's tastes. Musa aims to offer well writing, interesting stories, all at a price that doesn’t bite into your checkbook.

“Hearts set upon song, spirits free from care”~ Hesiod

# # #

If you'd like more information about Musa Publishing, please contact Elspeth McClanahan at romotions@Musapublishing.com">Promotions@Musapublishing.com or go to our blog http://musapublishing.blogspot.com/

When I was little, my grandmother bribed me into potty training by offering me Fancy Panties. Fancy panties were nothing more than little panties with ruffles on the butt. I, however, thought they were the most awesome thing in the entire world, and promptly declared myself a "big girl" and used the potty. (You read that right—big girl. I lived as a female until a few years ago.)

As I grew older and became more of a tomboy, the Fancy Panties disappeared from my wardrobe. But not by choice. I still wanted to wear them, you see, but they were deemed "baby" clothes.  Once I embraced my transgender identity and started wearing the clothes I'd always wanted to wear—masculine attire—my Fancy Panties indeed seemed a thing of the ancient past.

But then something occurred to me. Among the things I find erotic (and there are many! LOL) is a sexy man in frilly things. Nothing gets me going faster than a hunk in a sexy garter belt, or a deliciously muscled man wearing fishnet stockings. So why can't that be me? I mean, admittedly, I'm no hunk, and I'm not about to go around having my picture taken wearing only my skivvies, fancy or not. But the question remained—why can't I be that sexy guy?

Well, the answer is…I can. So, I went out to the stores in search of Fancy Panties in my size. Which proved impossible. I then turned to my old friend, the Internet. Eureka! I ordered these Ruffle Panties in red on red and black on red. They're pretty sweet.

Then, I dragged out my old jewelry box and pulled out all my oversized, blingier than blingier rings. And I bought a couple new ones.  You can check them out here: Rhinestone fish ring and rhinestone turtle ring.

I'm also painting my toenails purple. Just because.  

To keep up with my transgender theme here, I'm offering up a free PDF copy of "What the Lady Wants" to one lucky random commenter!

Blurb: 

When Keenan's lover, Naro, reveals the deep, dark secret of his past, Keenan must decide how strong their love really is. But Keenan has a secret of his own -- one that's right up Naro's alley.

 Excerpt:

Candlelight. There should've been soft, flickering candlelight, instead of the almost harsh glow of the light orb swinging above them. And soothing music—Keenan should've paid someone to stand outside the bedroom door and play a kempla flute for them—instead of the distant howls and calls of animals floating in through the window. They should've been surrounded by wisps of incense—that spicy-sweet blend the heavyset apothecary always sold at Festival—not the same old scent of dinner lingering on the air, mixing with the smells of the world outside. For that matter, he should've cooked something special tonight, roasted a bruta pig or filleted a tarkin.

All these thoughts went through Keenan's mind as he trailed kisses down the right side of Naro's neck, across his collarbone, then nibbled a path back up to those full, luscious lips. He would've liked to have staged the night a little better, made their first time more special, but Naro's urgency and enthusiasm had convinced him otherwise. At least he'd changed the bedding yesterday. Something had told him to use his best, softest sheets and his nicest—or least tattered, anyway—top blanket: the heavy one with the gold ribbon running around the edges and the birds stitched onto each hand-quilted panel.

The big wooden bed creaked as Keenan leaned over and reached to the bedside table for the bottle of oil—the very expensive, hard to find glandra flower oil he'd had ferried in four months ago in anticipation of a night like this. He'd spent his every waking second for the past year waiting for this moment, and, now that it was here, he couldn't imagine a more perfect way to spend the evening, poor planning aside.

"Wait. There's something you should know first." Naro pushed against Keenan's chest and sat up a bit.

Meet DC Juris!

A Southern transplant who has retained none of his accent but all of his charm, DC Juris is an out and proud transgender bisexual living in Upstate New York with his husband, four dogs, three cats, and a menagerie of Halloween props just creepy enough to keep people guessing about his sanity. He's still hopelessly single when it comes to the woman in his life, and he'll gladly entertain offers or applications for the position! In the rare event that he's not writing, DC can be found surfing the internet for random research, killing things on his Xbox, reading, taking pictures of the world around him, or playing Farmville, to which he admits a complete and totally blissful addiction. You can keep up with him at www.facebook.com/dcjuris, or www.dcjuris.com.

Holy Hannah, DC, you know how to bring it. Woot! I checked out the jewelry. My nails are painted this sparkly dark red and they would look great on my hand! Thanks for being open about yourself and for visiting with my friends and I at Romance With SASS - okay now...who's gonna win the book? 

Margie

  Welcome back, Lila Munro!

So for many of you that have seen me around Margie’s place repeatedly, you probably know two things. One I’m married to my very own real life hero, AKA MarshFox, my Marine. And two, you probably expect some full-tilt raunch out of me today. Part one you’re spot on. And I’ll be talking a bit more about him and his brothers and sisters in arms today, which covers part two…it won’t bet that raunchy. Sorry. I know you’ve come to expect some pretty dirty posts from me, but today I need to talk about something very close to my heart and the very reason that I, and the Force Recon writers, feel compelled to write these stories and do it well.

I’ve been married to MarshFox for upwards of fifteen years now and he’s currently in his twenty-third year in service. If I tried to count the number of times he’s been gone, deployed, or otherwise engaged in some military related activity that took him from my bed at night I’d most likely lose track. I can however attest that he’s missed seven of our anniversaries/birthdays—you see we were born on the same day and we also got married that day as well. I’ve talked about our love many times over at my own blog, but I think that’s the first time I’ve ever told that fact about us publicly. So, yeah seven of fifteen times he’s missed our anniversary/birthday—this coming spring will make eight and the following year he will again be gone…the odds aren’t in our favor here are they? Sad? Don’t be. Someday he’ll retire and come home for good and we’ll celebrate them all together from that point on, in relative peace I hope. How else can I mark the time? He’s also missed Christmas’, Thanksgivings, Easters and Independence Day a few times. He almost missed the birth of his daughter for being on ship coming back from the first Gulf War. For him and his fellow Marines often times there aren’t Christmas trees, menorahs, Easter eggs, fireworks (unless you count incoming rounds) or turkey legs and football games.

I want to share with you a couple of things they do often get.  Meet Willard.

   Willard is a goat. I know most of you are thinking who gives a damn about a freakin’ goat. Willard’s special. Our troops rescued him. You see, too often, and too many times people think our guys, my guys, are heartless unfeeling killing machines. Brainwashed and sent to do the devil’s dirty work. Not my guys. They saved a damn goat for pity sake. Willard was wandering somewhere he shouldn’t have been. I’m not sure where that was as I’m not privy to that information, but let’s just say he was fixing to be useless to anyone for anything and our troops saved him. They dragged his butt back to camp and now Willard is their mascot. Last time MarshFox was over there they rescued countless lost things. Some of them made their way back here via less that approved means in cargo bays and now those dogs found homes here in the states. Refugees of sorts.

These guys don’t just fall in love with goats and dogs either. I can’t count the times I’ve heard of or seen a troop falling in love and bringing home a Muslim wife and quite possibly a child or children. Love comes in all forms and from all places. Love chooses for us, we don’t possess that choice. Gives one hope that love will spring eternal and someday we don’t have to go traipsing around the world on a mission, in fear and full of questions—only to find that love grows in the most harsh conditions and places.

Life does, too. Meet Tina.

  Tina is a tomato plant. I know, one might question the sanity of naming a tomato plant. Tina came up all on her own. One of the troops figured out what she was and they’ve been nurturing her ever since and waiting for her to bear fruit. She may never accomplish that, but doesn’t that send a powerful message? That life finds a way—under the worst conditions possible, life will flourish.

Now, you might be wondering what any of this has to do with Force Recon Somalia and why it matters. This is why my team and I do what we do. To honor the sacrifices of the few and the proud by getting it right. By putting out a romance that encompasses all facets and walks of the romantic world. It’s also our way of giving back. Without these guys doing what they do, saving people, staving off the bad guys, rescuing goats and nurturing life through a tomato, we wouldn’t have the freedom to do what we do—write to our heart’s content. So, in honor of those that serve, we present Force Recon Somalia and humbly hope we got it right…

Blurb:

After surviving the vacation from hell in Beacon Bayou, the Force Recon team finds themselves one relationship, one fiancé, one child, and one marriage more than before they left Camp Lejeune for leave. But before they have a chance to process how a few days so completely changed their lives, they’re called away to Somalia, a hot bed of pirate activity. Their mission--rescue an embedded female marine taken prisoner.

Being a female marine isn’t easy for Allison Blaise. Choosing a life that's all about proving herself worthy of being one of the few and the proud right alongside her male counterparts, Alli volunteers for every special assignment that comes down the pipeline. This time that "go-to" attitude has landed her a stay as a prisoner to a few unsavory Somali pirates. After watching her four man extraction team be virtually destroyed before her eyes, Alli finds herself inexplicably drawn to the team leader, Brogan Baker. But the part of her that would normally heel to a man like Brogan has been damaged and Alli fears her condition may be permanent. Which means Brogan has to step back into a life he thought he'd left behind.

Eric Ryan, AKA Chaos, has only been with the team a few weeks when he realizes he's got a few problems on his hands. Not only is he replacing a dead man, he’s vying for control of a team whose current leader knows his dirty little secrets. Eric's gay with a twist.

With their team in a constant state of change and under duress, Aaron finds himself struggling to accept the notion that he's worth being loved and unable to impress his soon to be grandfather-in-law. Worse, he can’t shake the guilt that’s haunted him ever since the botched rescue in Somalia. But Aaron’s not the only one with problems. Gabe thought his life was under control until Ros reveals yet another secret, one he’s so distracted by he almost doesn’t survive the trip home from Somalia. A secret Ros may not survive either.

Just when they thought they were strong enough to make it through anything, the Force Recon team is once again faced with enough to either make them or break them.

Excerpt from Brogan’s story:

     For the first time in his adult life, Brogan Baker cared enough about someone not to scratch an itch and leave.  Taking just enough time to unbuckle his belt, Brogan freed  his throbbing cock and thought about the fact that he wanted to take her bare, nothing between them but her trust and his will to succeed at change their lives. Alli thought she needed pain, he got that.  She was a God damn broken record about it.  And maybe before that's all she allowed to work for her because she so ferociously guarded making any real connection with a man Kyle might deem unworthy.  Alli might need pain, but somewhere deep inside her, she craved intimacy, connection.  Brogan knew it.  She was far too needy not to want to belong rather than to just feel.  He doubted very seriously she was the type to get off on being tied to a St. Andrew's cross and stared at in the middle of a room all night.  No way that was her.  As Brogan made her tell him yes one more time and did a final gut check, he intended to find out for sure. "Tell me yes.  Just one word, Alli.  That's all I need to hear."

      "Please don't leave me Brogan. Not here. Yes."

      Thanking God for the different in their heights, Brogan used his advantage over her to tug on the chain that held her distended nipples captive one more time before entering the tight, wet heat of her small body, working fast to fully seat himself and connect with her in a way he hadn't enjoyed in far too long.  He didn't give her time to adjust or ease in to it, knowing that if it was pain she really sought, she wouldn't need it.

      Removing himself from her was painful but Brogan did so quickly, given her no time to get comfortable.  As much as he needed to find his own release, he needed to capture her mind more.  Tugging on the chain again, Brogan slammed into her knocking them both forward before catching each of the clamps in quick succession and removing them so that nothing stood between them but themselves.

      Hearing her scream and not caring that he was being a bastard about it, Brogan gave her just a second to find some sort of center before grabbing a handful of her breast and squeezing past the point he knew was pleasurable.  "Now it's just us, babe.  All me, all you, no gimmicks," Brogan taunted, taking a turn at her other breast, holding her close to his body as she writhed and bucked as he rode her small frame.

      "I've heard about what you need until I'm sick of it, Alli.  Needs a funny thing that way.  It seems to always change."  Brogan took a deep breath and let go of her breast, grabbing her hips with both of his large, somewhat shaky hands. This was it. One of his last two options to endear her to him forever.  Exhaling and saying a little prayer, Brogan flipped Alli on her back in one fluid motion and pinned her to the ground, still seated deep within her.  "I don't change, Alli.  I'm that same hard ass bastard that wants it my way today that you'll get tomorrow.  So you have a choice.  Stay with your needs or trust me to do this my way.  To change both our lives."  Brogan pulled back and didn't give her tender tissue a moment to relax before invading her again, determined that he wasn't stopping or finding his own release until she was well past the edge of her own reason.  "Who am I, Alli?  Look at me and tell me who I am to you?" Brogan demanded.

      "Brogan. Mine," Alli breathed, clutching his arms.

      "Tell me what you want, Alli.  One word, babe. Just say that one little word and it's yours."

      "You," Alli moaned.

      Rocking into her body, unwillingly to fail either of them, Brogan stayed with Alli until he felt her pussy clench around his cock in the tightest grip he'd had the pleasure of knowing.  Waiting until he knew she was there, Brogan buried himself again her and rolled with her, holding her tight against his chest as she shattered in his arms.

      Meeting her release with his own, Brogan gave her all of him, filling her womb with his very soul, consequences be damned.  For the first time in his life Brogan Baker was certain he was in love. 

Excerpt from Alli’s story:

“Blue hippo,” she snapped at the sight of the woman being held in the submersion tank by her Dom. Her creamy breasts pressed against the glass and she struggled. “Blue hippo, Sir. Not this. Please don’t make me watch this,” Alli begged writhing under his touch, trying to turn back.

Cord drew her against his chest and turned her head away. “Okay. That’s all I needed to know. Let’s go sit a while.”

He led her back down the walk way and behind a sheer curtain where Kyle sat with Haley at his feet and Jill was between Steph’s legs. Taking an enormous leather chair adjacent to the plush couch that Kyle occupied, Cord looked up and without further prompting Alli fell to her knees and allowed him to ease her between his thighs, laying her head on one of them. Without a word he motioned to Emilio who skittered away then he mindlessly ran his fingertips through her spikey black hair. Alli’s gaze never left the floor as the familiar comfort of being tended to flooded her system.

Alli burrowed further between Cord’s legs and wedged her head further up to rest at the juncture where his hip met his groin. Emilio came back into view carrying a bottled water, a Heineken and a small tray filled with condoms in brightly colored wrappers. Flavored condoms. Alli’s favorite had always been orange crème. It reminded her of a dreamsicle and made going down on a cock very pleasurable. Although, she had to admit, she’d always enjoyed the raw feel of a rigid cock sliding down her throat and the warm spurt of cum flowing into her mouth. Her heart palpitated when she realized Cord’s cock strained against his jeans.

“Master Cord,” she whispered.

“What is it, sweetness?” he asked, stroking one finger down her cheek. “Are you thirsty? Cold?”

“No, Sir. I’d like to…” she hesitated unsure of what exactly she did want. There was no sex. In this world, however, that meant no penetration. I didn’t omit oral sex. “May I take care of that for you, Sir?”

Cord raised her head and looked at her, studying her for a minute. “Are you sure, Alli?” he asked, framing her face. “It would please me more than you know, but I don’t expect anything you’re not ready for.”

“I’m sure, Sir. Please let me,” Alli said turning to face him, raising up and sending her slender fingers up the front of his jeans.

His eyes stayed steady on hers as she undid his belt. She unbuttoned his fly and reached in running her hand over his boxers before pulling the band down and releasing his erection. As it sprang free she sucked in a breath before leaning over and running her tongue the length of him, pulling the bulbous head between her lips. She started down on him her gaze going with her only to have him stop her and correct her action.

“Look at me, sweetness. Don’t look away. I want to see your eyes,” Cord told her, drawing her face back up.

Alli nodded then rose up higher and took him clear to the back of her throat, inhaling through her nose so as not to gag. It’d been a long time since she’d done this and even longer since she’d done if for Cord. She forgot the man went on for what seemed like forever.

“Stop just a minute, sweetness,” he commanded pulling her head back.

“But, Sir…” she tried to protest.

“Not tonight, Alli. I’ll take what you’re giving me, but it’ll be on my terms,” Cord told her rolling a bright orange condom down his twitching cock then guiding it back over her lips, pushing her head down until she was forced to swallow to take any more of him. “Good,” he hissed, pulling her jaw down. “Wider, sweetness. Take it all.”

Alli did as she was told and sent her head down until her nose touched Cord’s rock hard stomach. He held her there until she couldn’t breathe then raised her up and plunged into her mouth again. For several thrusts this game went on until Cord pushed up and pulled her down at the same time and growled, shuddering in her mouth. Alli could feel his warm cum even through the condom, but it wasn’t the same thing as having it spilled out over her tongue.

Buy the book now!

We’ll be giving away a PDF copy of Force Recon Beacon Bayou, book one in this series to a random commentor today…

Lila, it's always a pleasure to have you. I love your fierce loyalty and your stories are gritty and real....oh and soooo hot. Can't forget that bit. Best wishes on Force Recon Beacon Bayou and the rest of the books in the series.

Margie