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Friday, 28 November 2014

First Chapter Friday: Anne Conley's Saving Charlie



Chapter 1

Two percent of human trafficking victims are rescued.
www.refugeoflight.com

The phone woke Charlie at two-thirty in the morning.  Rubbing her eyes, she reached for it only to hear heavy breathing.  She knew who this was.  It excited her in a way that she hadn’t felt in years, making her feel dirty and shameful.  She had to admit she liked it, the way some women liked rape fantasies.  She’d never in a million years admit that, but the pleasure was there, nonetheless.  Her response was almost Pavlovian.

“Are you wet?”  The guttural tone of his voice forced her to respond.  It always had, even before she figured out who it was.

“Um…you’re late.  I have to get up in half an hour.”

Sounds of hoarse breathing met her protests.  She was usually up for this guy’s games, but he didn’t usually wake her from a dead sleep.  She’d give it a shot tonight though.  Impulse control had never been a strong suit.

She sighed.  “Okay, no I’m not wet, I was asleep.  Give me a minute.”  Charlie rolled over on her back and slipped her fingers inside her panties and started rubbing.  “Talk to me, I need to get in the mood.”

The calls had started about a month ago, soon after Les had started ordering stuff from her.  Les’s voice sounded a lot like her dirty caller, low and rough, like something grinding across her skin.  She assumed they were one and the same, even though Les’s voice was smoother when he called her at work.  But the caller whispered, and it was rough, and familiar.  A voice she reacted to with a visceral desire she couldn’t control.

When he’d first started calling, she’d hung up.  But he would call back, cussing her and calling her names.  Names that brought back memories she didn’t want to revisit.  So when she decided to play along, and the caller had gotten a little less aggressive with her, she’d realized she sort of liked the attention.  Her therapist would say it was inappropriate, but whatever.  

“You know what I want to do to you?”

She rubbed a little faster, trying to get off.  Lord knows she hadn’t done it with Justin in a while.

“What do you want to do to me?”  She played along, breathlessly.

“I want to wrap your pretty hair around my fist with you on your knees sucking my cock.”

Okay, it was working.  “I’m wet now.  You gonna get off?”  His gasping pants and the sound of skin slapping met her ears.

“Oh yeah, baby.  After I come all over your face, I’m gonna stick my big dick inside you and pound that pussy…”  He sucked air in through his teeth, and Charlie could hear he was close.

“Hey, slow down, I’m not there yet.”

“You touching yourself for me?”

“Yeah.”  She was a little breathless, but not near where he was.

“That’s so fucking hot.”

Her fingers were working her clit, dipping down inside to spread her juices up around it while she rubbed furiously.  Finally, it was working.

“You coming for me?”  His whisper was hoarse and she heard the slapping noises, louder.

“Yes…yes, I’m coming.”  Her muscles spasmed around her fingers as the climax swept through her.

“Fuck… yeah…” Grunts and slapping along with hissing air met her ears through her cell phone, and then he hung up abruptly.  Just like always.

“What, no pillow talk?” she asked the dead air of the phone line.  Sighing, she rolled out of bed, and got into the shower.  She might as well get up and start her day. Charlie looked at her clock.  Two a.m.  With the run tonight, she had a long day ahead of her.


Charlie dressed in black jeans, a black long-sleeved shirt, and twisted her long blonde hair on top of her head before putting on a black cap and grabbing her knapsack.  Driving to the motel, she thought about the necessary steps in her head before she got there.  She compartmentalized herself, removing herself from any sort of personal aspect.  In her mind, this was a job that had to be done.

She tried to prepare for every eventuality, but there was always something that could go wrong.  
Hopefully, tonight wouldn’t be one of those times.

The first time she’d done this, she’d nearly lost it as soon as the door shut behind her, trapping her in the motel room with the girls.  She’d been transported back in time, and was no longer free to come and go, nearly ruining the girls’ chances of rescue.  She’d gotten better at shoving those memories into her pit of repression since then and hadn’t had any trouble.

She pulled up outside the motel and used the maid’s key.  Silently entering the room, she looked around.  Sounds of weeping from the bed stole her attention, but as soon as she closed the door behind her, they stopped.

“It’s okay.  I’m here to help.  Are you alone?”  Charlie whispered into the darkness, willing her eyes to adjust to the light.

“Y-yes…” the broken voice replied.  She sounded really young.

Too easy.  They never left them totally alone, especially during the seasoning period.  Charlie knew they weren’t far away.  She had to work fast. 

Quickly, Charlie moved over to the bed, removing the bolt cutters from her knapsack, along with a knife.  Noticing the girl was cuffed to the bed, she slipped the knife into her back pocket.

Using the bolt cutters, she freed the girl’s hands and helped her to sit up. 

“I’ve got clothes in the car for you.  Can you walk?”

The girl, who couldn’t have been older than twelve, nodded.  “Where are you taking me?”  The inexperienced ones didn’t ask questions, just following blindly.  This girl had some sense, which could bode well or not.  The ones with sense meant they were usually repeat offenders, and would be a flight risk.

“Someplace safe.  Come on.  They’ll probably come check on you soon.”

Charlie led the girl out of the room, checking for lookouts, before rushing her to the truck.  She sped out of the parking lot, handing the girl a sweat suit to put on, and drove away quickly. As always, she bit her tongue against the questions she wanted to ask.  While part of her wanted answers, another larger part wanted the whole thing buried even deeper.  Instead, she pulled out her cell phone and dialed a number from memory.

“I’ve got her.  We’re on our way.”




Read Saving Charlie, now!  Welcome to the final (for now) installment of the Stories of Serendipity, where real people live life and find love in small town, Texas. 

100,000 children are sexually trafficked every year in the US. In the 1990s, Charlie was one of those children. She’s spent her adult life getting past that, trying to become a successful business owner in Serendipity, TX. Relationships are not goals for her. In fact, she’s not even sure she has what it takes to be a part of one. 

Les is a fool for love. All he’s ever wanted was a girl. Now that every last one of his friends are married, and in happy relationships with families, he can’t stop thinking about the sexy lady who sells house parts, even if everything about her screams at him to stay away. He just can’t. 

When they are thrown together on a cross-country road trip, Charlie’s past comes back to her full-force, long-buried memories inundating her. Les seems to be the only thing grounding her to the present, when everything else seems to be trying to tear her apart. 

While it has a HEA, the road getting there is long, rough, and dark. Enjoy the ride. 



Wednesday, 26 November 2014

Book Spotlight: Hiding Out by Nicole Andrews Moore

Samuel Davenport runs his family's New York based advertising agency. His brother, Adam, runs from responsibility and anything remotely boring. And his temp, Haley, runs so she'll never be caught and hurt again. She moved to the city New Year's Day to hide and recover, to build a new life far from her past. In an effort to lie low, Haley never expects to be more than a temp. What begins for Sam as an excuse to get to know her better, ends up being an opportunity for advancement and excitement for Haley. When Sam tries to uncover all of Haley's mysteries, he exposes her hiding place, endangers her life, and threatens to destroy any chance of them ever having a future together.

4

Haley had grabbed at her chest and was now attempting a smile, but couldn’t quite pull it off. “Damn it, Haley,” he murmured as he squatted next to her desk. “I’m sorry.” Samuel struggled against reaching out to her. He closed his eyes for a moment as he imagined crushing her to his chest and burying his face in her hair. He took a few deep calming breaths, then opened his eyes.

When his gaze met hers, he found her eyes welling up with tears and it was more than he could stand. “Come on,” he said quietly, grabbing her hand and leading her into his office. “Please sit down.” He gestured to the leather sofa that so frequently held his napping brother.

“No, I’m sorry,” Haley said, dabbing at her eyes. “I feel so silly. I don’t know why I’m crying.”

He passed her a Kleenex, then said, “Yes, you do. Take a moment, then explain it to me.”

She sighed, but soon her words came spilling out of her. “You looked so sorry and so sad and so helpless. And I can’t help but think that I put that look on your face.” She was exasperated. “All of a sudden you are treating me like blown glass, which is nice and scary and unfamiliar all at once. It’s like you really care or...” Haley faced him with a stricken look. “You know.” Her body shuddered and she eyed the door, something he had watched her do on more than one occasion.

And he now knew what it meant. “Don’t go,” he said quietly. Then he added seriously, “I don’t know anything for certain. All I know is that it is painfully obvious someone hurt you. And that,” he said almost whispering, “breaks my heart.”

Looking down at her lap, Haley sat stone still. Part of her wanted desperately to pour her heart out to him, but she feared that this knowledge would be too much for him. “Someday,” she whispered. “Someday I’d really like to tell you. But it can’t be today. And it can’t be now.” She swallowed and looked up at him with her glassy emerald eyes. “Can you be patient with

me?”That was what everyone he had come into contact with had warned him. The good doctor, her friend Ellen...and he knew he could. She was worth it. “Yes,” he responded.

AUTHOR BIO
Nicole Andrews Moore has been an author since 2011, but it was after the birth of her daughter, Kenna in January of 2012, that she was determined to make it a full-time career. As the fourth smallest preemie in the world, Kenna’s medical needs would prevent her from ever going to day care. A fan introduced her to JB McGee, who became her mentor and best friend. They have been working together ever since, but The Traveler Series is their first collaboration.

For fun, she spends time with those she cares about, cooks, reads, writes, and especially lives to travel. The current travel goal: visit every Margaritaville. Three down! (Eleven to go?)

Her writing can also be found on Shine, where she is a Shine Parenting Guru and an award winning Yahoo! Contributor on YourWisdom as the relationship and dating expert. In addition, she has been published by McClatchy News in their syndicated papers.

Her books can be found on Amazon, Barnes and Noble, Kobo, Apple, and Smashwords in ebook, paperback, and even some audiobooks.

CONNECT WITH THE AUTHOR

Brought to readers by Beau Coup Publishing:


Friday, 21 November 2014

First Chapter Friday: The Initiation of Ms Holly by K D Grace


The Initiation of Ms Holly 
Chapter 1
HE PRACTICALLY FELL ON top of Rita, his hand grazing her left breast in the complete darkness. She yelped and grabbed him to keep from losing her balance.
‘God, I’m sorry!’ He gasped. ‘Bloody nuisance, this, isn’t it?’ His voice was warm, melodious, by far the most pleasant thing that had happened to Rita since she left Paris. ‘Oh dear. You’re trembling. Are you all right?’
‘I’m claustrophobic.’ Her words were thin and shaky, as though she didn’t fully trust herself to let them out. ‘It wouldn’t be so bad if I didn’t know where we are.’ For an embarrassing moment, she realised she was still clinging to him, but the embarrassment passed, and suddenly she didn’t care. If they were going to die trapped in a train in the Eurostar tunnel, buried beneath a gazillion gallons of water, she’d just as soon not do it alone.
He either understood, or was too polite to leave her in such distress. He wrapped his arms around her engulfing her in a muscular embrace, the scent of which was maleness barely masked by deodorant and some spicy cologne, both fading at the end of a day much longer than either of them had anticipated. ‘Don’t worry.’ In the darkness, he misjudged the distance between them and his lips brushed her earlobe. ‘It’s just an electrical malfunction. Anyway we’re better off down here than in the snowstorm up above. Sounds like all London is shut down. Who’d have expected snow this late in the spring? Never mind that, where else do you get the chance to cuddle strangers in the dark?’
He pressed a little closer to her, and she was relieved to find other thoughts, thoughts more welcome than those of their predicament, pushing their way into her head. He felt good, broad-shouldered and tall, easy to lean on.
‘Why are you huddled here in the corner rather than hunkered down in your seat?’
She concentrated on his warm breath pressing against the top of her ear. ‘I was on my way back from the loo when the lights went out and ...’
‘And this is as far as you got.’
She nodded against his chest, honing in on the reassuring sound of his heartbeat.
‘Shall I help you back to your seat then?’
The train lurched forward, and she yelped again, tightening her grip around his neck. ‘No, please. It’s better if I just don’t move.’
There was a long pause. ‘Do you want me to stay with you?’
She realised the poor man had little choice clenched in her strangle hold, as he was. ‘I don’t want to be any trouble,’ she lied.
He readjusted his stance and tightened his embrace. ‘No trouble at all. I can’t think of a better way to pass the time than in the arms of a beautiful woman. You are beautiful, aren’t you?’
In spite of the stress she felt, she forced a laugh. ‘Gorgeous, actually. Too bad you can’t see for yourself.’
He ran a hand down the contour of her spine to rest low on the small of her back. ‘I don’t have to see you to admire you.’
The thought that the man was rather cheeky barely crossed her mind before he lifted her fingers to his lips and planted a warm kiss across the back of her knuckles. ‘I’m Edward. I’m from London. Clearly you’re not.’
‘Rita,’ she replied. ‘I’m from Seattle, but I live in London now.’
‘Well Rita, from Seattle, we’ve established that you’re an exotic beauty. Perhaps you’d like to return the favour.’ He lifted her hand to his face and guided it gently over the slight stubble of his cheek. As her hand cupped his well-formed chin, he pulled her middle finger into his mouth and nibbled it, teasing the pad of it with his tongue. Suddenly her struggle to breathe had nothing to do with being claustrophobic.
‘Well?’ He asked pulling her hand away to massage her fingers. ‘What do you think? Am I acceptable?’
If he was cheeky, she was downright brazen. She stopped his words with her mouth, amazed at how easily she had found the mark in total darkness. Perhaps it was the darkness that made her so bold, but, whatever it was, he didn’t disappoint. His mouth was warm, opening eagerly to the probing of her tongue, responding in kind, caressing her hard palate, nipping at the fullness of her lower lip before pulling away just enough to speak.
‘There, you see? It’s not so bad being in the dark, is it? The other senses are too often overlooked, which is very sad, since they offer such exquisite delights.’ His hand moved up to cup her cheek, and he raked a thumb across her still parted lips. ‘Taste, for example. Few pleasures exceed that of the tongue.’
She heard him fumbling in the darkness, then she heard the rattling of foil. ‘Open your mouth,’ he whispered. ‘I have something that’ll make you feel better, guaranteed. Oh don’t worry, it’s nothing illegal.’
Reluctantly she opened her mouth, which he primed with a wet kiss, then slipped a chocolate truffle between her lips. It was covered liberally in cocoa and warmed exquisitely almost, but not quite, to the steamy melting point of his body temperature, which only enhanced the sharp, edgy flavour that separates expensive chocolate from the cheap stuff.
She gasped her surprise, then moaned softly at the intensity of the taste.
‘Don’t bite,’ he kissed her jaw, then her throat. ‘Savour it, roll it around in your mouth. There are places on the tongue that taste only sweet and places that taste only bitter or salt, or sour. Chocolate can have all those flavours. Caress it in your mouth like you’re making love to it, and you’ll be amazed at what you taste.’
She cheeked the truffle, slurring her words as she spoke. ‘I thought I was tasting you.’
He chuckled softly. ‘Everything tastes better with chocolate.’ Without another word, he took her mouth, plunging his tongue deep against the melting truffle, whirling it, lapping at it, sighing with the pleasure of it. The more liquid and heated the truffle became, the more liquid and heated Rita became.
‘The taste buds can distinguish wonderfully subtle flavours,’ he said between tongue dances. In the meantime he slipped his hand under her skirt, stopping to caress a suspender. Rita had always hated tights, and sexy or not, she preferred suspenders and stockings, which she found much less confining.
Still sharing the truffle in her mouth, he shoved aside the crotch of her panties and plunged a finger between her swollen labia, moaning his satisfaction at finding her so slippery and receptive.
She ground herself against his fingers. Wriggling and squirming until she was practically sitting on his palm, the heel of it rubbing deliciously against her clit, while they savoured the taste of the truffle.
He smeared chocolate against her lips as he whispered, ‘It’s amazing how closely linked scent and taste are.’ Then he pulled his hand from her panties, and she caught the salty sweet scent of herself just before he plunged a wet finger into her mouth, allowing her to suckle her own juices.
‘You see? The taste is completely different when you add your own flavour.’ He pulled his fingers away to taste for himself, then plunged his tongue back into her mouth.
‘What about your flavour,’ she gasped when they came up for air, dribbling chocolate and saliva down their chins.
She didn’t have to ask twice. Suddenly they were tugging and pulling at his trousers and struggling to get them open enough to extricate his enthusiastic erection. When the warmth of it, the heavy shape of it, pressed against her hand, she dropped into a squat and took it into her mouth, finding him thick and smooth and slightly salty with a warm yeasty scent not unlike new-made bread, like pain au chocolat, she thought.
He curled his fingers in the waves of her hair and shifted his hips. She adjusted, nearly gagging in her efforts to take more of him into her mouth and still hang on to the last taste of chocolate as long as possible.
It was inevitable that her hand, the one not stroking Edward’s distended balls, would find its way between her legs.
But her fingers weren’t enough. She stood quickly, nearly bumping him in the chin with her head. ‘I want more than a taste,’ she gasped, already shoving her skirt up and turning her bottom to him, guiding his cock toward its goal. The thought crossed her mind that, if the lights came back on, they would very much be caught in the act. But when Edward spread her lips with warm fingers and slipped inside her, she forgot all about the risk and thrust back against him.
Surely people around them – even in the total darkness – could figure out what was going on. Who knew? Maybe some of them had also slipped hands in trousers or under skirts for some pleasurable relief from the stress of the situation.
She could tell by Edward’s bruising grip on her hips that he was about to come, and she was riding the edge of her own orgasm, just barely managing to hold back, just a little longer, just a few more seconds.
It hit with such force that for a moment she thought her worst fears had been realised, and there had been an explosion on the train. But there were no screams, though she was desperately trying to keep from screaming herself. That must surely mean that the explosion was personal.
In the midst of the intense pleasure hurtling through her, Edward grunted in her ear, ‘You still want to taste me? Let me come in your mouth.’
As she pulled off him, and they fumbled to switch positions, from somewhere he produced another truffle and shoved it into her mouth, followed in short succession by his engorged cock.
Quickly she cheeked the chocolate to make room for his penis, which she took as deep into her throat as she could, trying to savour both truffle and thrusting cock without choking on either.
The curl of his fingers in her hair tightened as he pulled her mouth further on to him with each thrust until, at last, he grunted the first spurt of semen into her mouth, which blended with the chocolate in an earthy richness that made her pussy twitch again. Chocolate and sex, chocolate and come. The taste alone catapulted her to another orgasm.
As his grip lessened on her hair, she knew exactly what to do next. Holding the last of his come in her cheek next to the truffle, she stood, took his face between her hands, and teased his lips apart, drizzling the blending of maleness and chocolate onto his tongue.
They were still gobbling hungrily at each other’s mouths when the conductor’s voice came over the intercom. ‘Ladies and gentlemen, a train has just arrived to tow us into Ashford. Upon our arrival, another train will be waiting for those of you who wish to continue on to London St. Pancras. For those of you who would prefer, arrangements have been made to put you up at a hotel in Ashford for the night and get you safely on your way in the morning. Once again, we apologise for the inconvenience.’
The car erupted in a buzz of conversation as people discussed their options and their relief that at least something was finally happening.
‘What will you do?’ He asked. She heard him zip his fly, then she felt him carefully wiping between her pussy lips with what must have been his handkerchief.
‘I’ll stay,’ she said, opening her legs to his ministerings, almost wishing the conductor had kept his mouth shut long enough for round two. ‘With all the snow, I can’t get home even if I do get to London. You?’
‘I have to go.’ He pressed a lingering kiss to the inside of her thigh just above where the stocking was attached to the garter belt. ‘Business. It would have been lovely to continue the fun in a hotel room. But I can’t. Not this time. Come on. Let me help you back to your seat.’
When they arrived in her car, by the light of his mobile, she found her place much more quickly than she would have liked. ‘Give me your phone,’ he said once she was seated.

She did as he asked. He keyed in something and handed it back. ‘Now you have my number. Text me.’ Then he gave her a brain searing kiss and left as the train lurched forward and gathered speed. She hadn’t even seen his face.




Tuesday, 18 November 2014

Book Spotlight: Crewel Work (The Tapestry Series Book 1) by Natalie Alder

The key to a successful horse farm is the trainer. At Bridgeton Pass, J. P. Ryan is that key. William Becker is determined to protect his farm and keep Ryan on the job.
That goal is threatened by two things – a sinister act by another employee and the fact that his only daughter has fallen head-over-heels in love with J. P.
Becker can’t allow either of those things to threaten his legacy.
Audra grew up around the handsome trainer and fell in love with him at a distance, enchanted by his kindness and honesty. When they began stealing private but innocent moments, she found that she didn’t want to live without him. Audra is heartbroken when she has to choose between honoring her father and pursuing love.
J.P. wants Audra by his side, but he finds himself with a hard decision.
He is forced to choose between his career and the love of his life. Between the problem caused by the troublemaking barn hand and the frustration caused by his desire for Audra, J.P.’s job has become a ‘crewel’ work.
The story of the Becker family is woven as an intricate Tapestry. It is beautiful as a whole, but like any tapestry, you have to turn it over and look at the back side to see how the threads of love and family relationships are woven together into one intricate whole.
Welcome to the Tapestry series.

EXCERPT
Suddenly, the frog jumped from the rock into the water, causing J.P. to look around. Audra held her breath, wondering if he would see her. When he turned back around and began to step out of his jeans, Audra realized he had no idea she was there.
Audra’s heart started to pound. Should she leave? A curiosity beyond anything she’d ever known compelled her to stay. She ducked down. If she stayed low, J.P. wouldn’t be able to see her from where he was. And as long as he didn’t move westward along the bank, he would never know she was there. With her blood pounding through her veins in excitement, she shifted slightly to get a better view of him. Dang! Audra licked her lips. The man was gorgeous. J.P.'s stomach and shoulders were hard and muscular from the demanding work he did on the farm. The muscles of his chest were chiseled, defined. Days working outside in the sun had tanned his skin. He left his pile of clothes and started toward the pond. Audra felt like a creepy voyeur. She started to turn her gaze away, but was unable to do so. Turning back, she let her gaze settle on him again, enjoying the unexpected opportunity before her.

J.P. walked into the water and turned such that she could see his front. Audra covered her mouth, so afraid she would make an audible noise. She had never seen a naked man before. Warmth spread through Audra’s body and seemed to pool between her legs. The muscles of his tight back side rippled as he moved and the strong muscles of his thighs became more defined as he lowered himself into the pond. His body was wonderful, all of him. Now that she’d seen him, there was nothing more that she wanted than to touch him. Audra had seen his bare chest and shoulders before. J.P. sometimes removed his close fitting T-shirts for relief from the heat in the barn. But the rest, under his jeans, she’d always had to imagine. Well, no more.

AUTHOR BIO
I write stories about romance. They center on learning about the characters backgrounds, personalities and life circumstances that mold them into who they are and how they love.
I am a sassy 40-something year old. I live in a quiet farming town in New England with my husband of fifteen years and our three rescued cats.
After college I facilitated improvement in the physical abilities of children and the elderly then took the opportunity to enjoy my creative side. I love to sew, knit, write...sing and drink martinis (not necessarily at the same time).

CONNECT WITH THE AUTHOR
Goodreads ~ https://www.goodreads.com/user/show/32799040-natalie-alder

Friday, 14 November 2014

First Chapter Friday: Forever At Midnight by Isobelle Cate



CHAPTER ONE


Hamel Dun Creag, Loch Awe, Scotland 1557


Roarke entered his bedroom with Deanna in tow, their steps muffled by the fresh thresh on the floor. The fire in the hearth, diagonally across from the bed, gave the room a warm glow. The spark in the air, sensual.
Roarke stopped by the side of the canopied bed. “Are ye sure?” He flung his cloak on the wooden chest which sat at the foot of the bed.
He turned to Deanna, his heart swelled with love; it hurt.  
“Seeing my beloved aunt is in her cups in the great hall while my Da is being regaled with feats of valour by The Hamilton?” Walking around nonchalantly, her eyes widened a fraction at the sight of Roarke’s bed. She took a deep breath, belying her nervousness and excitement, stopping to look at Roarke before she smiled. Deanna felt weak in the knees. The lone wooden armchair in the room was a temptation, but she forced herself to stand. She placed her hand on the chest of drawers, steadying herself. “Aye.”
Roarke stared at her, cherishing each feature. Her copper hair tumbled in curls and waves around her shoulders and down to her waist. Her eyes, pools of cornflower blue, were fringed with long lashes which swept over the tops of her cheekbones. A dusting of freckles decorated the bridge of her nose. Roarke's cock twitched in growing attention when Deanna’s lips curved in a beguiling smile.
“Do ye want me?” Roarke asked. He needed to hear the words from her lips. He dared not put any more meaning to Deanna's proposal until she made her desire clear.
“Aye,” she said softly, taking a step closer. “I love you, Roarke. I want to be your mate.”
Roarke enclosed Deanna in a crushing embrace. His mouth captured her lips, his tongue tracing the seam of her mouth. He groaned when Deanna shuddered, opening for him. She placed her arms around his neck and pressed her breasts against Roarke's plaid clad body. With a growl, he swept her up and placed her on the bed.
Laying her down, he straightened up. His breathing was harsh and erratic, his pulse thundering in his ears as the woman he loved watched him undress.
He unlaced his cuarans and his hose before tossing his tartan over his shoulder to unbuckle his leather belt. Deanna purred when he removed his shirt. He looked down, chuckling as he watched her sit up, her eyes drawn to his erection. She looked back up at him, her gaze filled with heat. Moving to the edge of the bed, Deanna lifted her hand, fisting him in her palm.
Roarke inhaled sharply, closing his eyes.
Deanna never expected giving Roarke pleasure would bring her such joy. She felt elation coursing through her veins as he groaned his appreciation. She closed her eyes and leaned up to kiss his chest, right over his heart. Her lips tingled as she felt the pounding of his pulse beneath his warm skin. Caressing his shaft, she marvelled at how something so hard could be so smooth.
“Where did you learn to hold a man like that?” Roarke rasped, his lust filled gaze boring into her very soul.
Deanna smiled. “I had a very good teacher.”
Roarke grinned before his face gradually showed his lust, his eyes becoming hooded with passion. “I need you.” He pulled her to her feet. She went willingly, keeping his manhood in her grasp.  
Deanna nuzzled his neck, using the tip of her tongue to lick him, making a damp trail along Roarke's jaw, tasting the salt of his skin before capturing his mouth in hers.
“You are a vixen, Deanna Logan,” he groaned against her lips.
She laughed softly. “Which is why you chose me, Roarke Hamilton. I am the only one who can keep up with you.”
Roarke threw his head back and laughed. When he looked down into her eyes, he smiled at the memory. “Who would have thought I’d find the woman destined to be mine walking through the fayre without a chaperone?”
“I was chaperoned,” she said with mock indignation, but her eyes were alight with mischief. “My aunt just couldn’t keep up with me. And who would have thought the man I’d give myself to would be the very man who threw mead in my face?” Deanna planted her hands on her hips, cocking her head to one side.
Roarke growled in protest when Deanna’s hand let go of his erection.
“Deanna, Deanna,” Roarke groaned, hitting his face with his palm, much to Deanna's amusement. “Must you always remind me of that day? I believe I've made up to you many times over.”
“Aye,” she said, continuing to stroke him. “That ye have and more.”
Roarke smiled down at her, his gaze darkening with his need. “I want you verra much.”
He framed her face firmly between his hands before he swooped to take her mouth. She felt the muscles of her sex clench when Roarke’s tongue seared hers. It was a sensation unlike any other she’d ever felt in her life. Her heart raced as though she’d run through the hills surrounding Hamel Dun. Deanna gasped against Roarke's mouth when he brought his hands down to cup her breasts, to tease her nipples through her cotehardie. His touch sent tremulous quivers down to her mound, teasing her to wetness. Bolts of desire ignited her whole body, heating her blood. The tops of her breasts strained against the square neckline as she arched her back to his touch. She felt the delicious throb in her sex, yearning for the caress of Roarke's callused hands. “Touch me, please. I need to feel your hands on my skin.”
He trailed kisses down the column of her throat while he unlaced her gown. “Your wish. My command.” Slipping Deanna’s gown off her shoulders, it pooled on the threshed floor at her feet. Roarke licked her collarbone, her shoulders, leaving a trail of exquisite heat everywhere his mouth touched. His hands continued their sensual exploration of every inch of her skin.
“You set me on fire, my laird,” Deanna moaned in delight when Roarke's hot tongue flicked against her nipple. She held on to his broad shoulders when he teased her peak to an elongated arousal, while his thumb and forefinger did the same thing to her other breast. Her body trembled, and she felt a deep-seated ache she couldn’t explain. “I want. I want…” She knew she needed something, but she didn't know exactly what. There was an ache in the middle of her sex that was almost a hunger. Instinctively, her hips nudged against Roarke's arousal, making him hiss. Her breath hitched at the unbridled desire she saw darkening his silver blue eyes. Her own eyes grew larger when she saw gold flecks dance around his pupils. “Roarke,” she whispered. “Your eyes...”
He smiled, a smile guaranteed to make her weak in the knees. “It’s part of who I am, Deanna.”
Her fingers tentatively touched the corners of his eyes, then she frowned in confusion. “The flecks disappeared.”
Roarke took her hand in his. He seemed to hesitate before he spoke. “Does it scare you?”
“No!” Her eyes widened with her vehemence. She heaved a sigh. “I think it's beautiful.”
A low rumble came from Roarke's throat. “I’ve never been called beautiful, Lass.”
Deanna laughed softly. “Well, know that you are, my love.”
“You are the one who’s beautiful, Deanna.” Roarke's gaze darkened, raking her form and causing goose bumps to rise everywhere his eyes travelled. He brought his hand up to caress her nape, his thumb drawing sensual circles over the sensitive spot behind her ear and down to the pulse beating fast at the base of her throat.
“I cannae see myself with anyone but you,” he said. “I want you by my side. Will you grant my request, Deanna?”
“Aye. Oohh.”
“Oohh?” he asked with a chuckle.
“Roarke Hamilton,” she said, desire coating her words. “You're teasing my privates.”
Roarke leaned down to whisper in her ear. “Do you like it?”
“Aye,” she moaned. Her legs spread of their own volition to allow him greater access. Her hips moved against his fingers. She gripped Roarke's shoulders and cried out when he slipped one finger inside her.
“And this?” The deep timbre of his voice wrapped around her in a mist of seduction.
“Oh, aye, always aye.” Deanna's head fell backwards, exposing her throat. Panting loudly, she whimpered when Roarke's mouth found her neck. He sucked hard on the skin covering her pulse and she shuddered. The erotic kisses sent electric signals down to her vagina and it wept, coating Roarke's finger with her juices. “Roarke!”
His touch was a source of great pleasure. Her channel tightened around his finger, causing him to growl in approval. “How perfect you are, Deanna.” Roarke kissed her, slanting his mouth against hers, plundering deeply. Their tongues twisted and mated with each other.
Deanna’s arms encircled his neck, anchoring her to reality. Yet, she couldn't get enough of him. “I need you, Roarke.” She mewled against his tongue as it imitated the same thrusting movement of his finger teasing her sex. In and out. In and out. Her heart pounded against her chest, almost in tandem with the pace dictated by his touch. She felt the familiar stirrings of release beginning to coil in her belly. She was about to spring. It was always like this. Even though they’d never completed the act, he had brought her to a state of bliss several times with his fingers and mouth. Roarke had promised to introduce her to more carnal pleasure when it was time.  
And each encounter was better than the one before.
Still, Roarke always held back. Deanna knew he would be in pain if he didn't find his own release. His jaw always tightened and his breathing grew harsh. She couldn’t stand to see him in need. So, she’d learned how to help him find release with her hand.
Now, she felt a similar ache. What he gave her with his fingers was no longer enough. She was reaching for something. If Roarke’s shaft could satisfy this desperation, she wanted him inside of her. Now.
“Roarke, please,” she begged. “Make me yours. Completely.”
“Aye, Deanna,” he whispered. “This night of the full moon, I will have you. You will be mine for eternity.”
She moaned in protest when Roarke removed his finger.
“Very eager,” he said with a lopsided grin.
“Is that bad?” She looked at him in alarm. Deanna wanted him desperately, but she didn't want him to think she was a wanton. It was hard enough not to throw herself at him.
“Nay, Deanna. I love the way you are. You are perfect.”
Her heart raced in anticipation, her sex clenching sweetly at his words. She smiled seductively before slipping off her shoes. Then she took the end of her hose that stopped midway up her thigh and began to roll it down.
“Don't remove them.” Roarke's voice was so low, Deanna almost didn't hear it. When she arched her eyebrow, he said, “Please leave them. For me.”
Excitement curled in the pit of her stomach and made her pleasure nub throb. With one last look at Roarke, Deanna turned around to crawl toward the middle of the bed.
“Stop.”
Deanna looked over her shoulder, perplexed at Roarke’s groan. She gasped when she looked lower to see his rod standing proudly, framed by dark curls. “Roarke?”
“You're going to be the death of me.”
“Why?”
“Stay, just like that.”
Deanna looked at herself, completely baffled. “I’m on my hands and knees.”
“Which is exactly how I want you to be.”
“Roarke...”
“Stay still, Deanna,” he commanded.
Her eyes widened. She faced front and wondered why Roarke was practically growling. His voice was so low and sensual as to make her heart skip a beat, but she did what she was told. Deanna jerked when she felt his hot hands on her hips. Slowly, he pulled her back closer to the edge of the bed. She gasped when Roarke's hands skimmed over her bottom, closing her eyes when he squeezed her cheeks. Her lust licked her in all the right places, making her feel wicked, wanton, and left her wanting more. Her breath quickened as Roarke caressed her outer thighs with his fingers until he slowly moved inward and upwards to her nether lips.
“So beautiful…” He whispered.
Her breath hitched, her sex quivered, liquid heat beginning to flow. Anticipation of what Roarke was about to do caused her sensitive button to swell. When his finger teased the sides of her mound and the crease of her thigh, Deanna’s hips began to move involuntarily. She pushed against his hand, craving more. But Roarke moved away.
“My laird, you are merciless,” she whimpered. “Why do you tease me so?”
“We are just beginning, my lady. Now stay still, Deanna. God knows how hard it is to keep my need in check. Your pleasure is what I want. So please, do as I say,” he said, his voice strained.
Need. Pleasure. Those two words increased the ache inside her even more.
“Roarke,” she gasped when he blew against her sex. She tensed, her breath catching in her throat when her mind registered it was Roarke's tongue parting the lips of her sex. This decadent sensation was new. Roarke was tasting her, making her even wetter. She was drowning in a lust filled pool, moaning her delight. Deanna’s knees would have buckled beneath her had it not been for Roarke holding her hips up as he speared her with his tongue. She cried out, arching her back and throwing her head up.
“You taste so good, my lady.”
Deanna mewled. Wave upon wave of ecstasy crested and receded in her sex, radiating out over her body. Pleasure spiked at the vibrations Roarke's voice made against her slit. She looked back over her shoulder and groaned when she saw her beloved's head moving up and down as he lapped at her opening. She closed her eyes, feeling every thrust of his tongue bringing her closer to the edge. In and out he went, tunnelling deep, driving her to madness. She spiralled in desire, crying out her release. A kaleidoscope of colour exploded behind her eyes. With one last lap of Roarke's talented tongue, she collapsed on the bed.