Boots and Leather: Ugly Stick Saloon, Book 2 Page 13

  Master. A wash of juices rushed through her pussy. Audrey had been submissive once. What had it bought her? Bruises, broken ribs and heartache. Her ex had shown her the worst side of a Dom-sub relationship. With Luke towering over her, her hands tied in front, her knees shook, but not out of fear. They were liquid with desire, her core tightening, her body screaming for release. Her mind rocked with the realization, her mouth watering for another taste of what was happening to her. How could she be so ready to fall back into that trap?

  “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, Kiki.” Jackson’s voice cut through the jumbled fog of her thoughts.

  “I am my own master,” she whispered, her throat dry in anticipation.

  “Not in this house.” Mark crossed his arms over his chest. “If you don’t like it, you can leave.” He jerked his head, indicating the exit.

  Audrey’s gaze skittered toward the door, her breaths now coming in short, rapid succession. She didn’t want to go. “No.”

  Jackson’s eyes narrowed. “All you have to do is say the word and I’ll kill them.”

  “I know my limits.” Her chin rose. “If I want you to stop, I’ll let you know.”

  Luke crossed his arms, much like Mark. “How?”

  “I’ll say crackerjack.” She laughed, reminded of the little boxes of caramel-coated popcorn. As a child, she’d had so much of the sticky-sweet, candied corn, she’d gotten sick. Could she have too much of a good thing by letting all three of the Gray Wolf brothers touch her? Last time she’d been surrounded by men lusting after her, she’d been stripping for her rent money, unwilling to let her customers touch her. When she’d bought the bar, she’d sworn never to wear the mask, chaps and boots of her alter ego Kiki again.

  Never say never.

  Desire as reckless as a fighter jet in freefall…and just as dangerous.

  Double Down

  © 2012 Katie Porter

  Vegas Top Guns, Book 1

  As part of the 64th Aggressor Squadron, Major Ryan “Fang” Haverty flies like the enemy to teach Allied pilots how not to die. The glittering excess of the Strip can’t compare to the glowing jet engines of his F-16. But a sexy, redheaded waitress in seamed stockings? Now she gets his blood pumping.

  Cassandra Whitman’s good-girl ways haven’t earned any slack from her manager ex-boyfriend, or prevented a bad case of frazzle from holding down two and a half jobs. She sure wouldn’t mind letting the handsome Southern charmer shake up her routine.

  Their wild weekend lives up to Sin City’s reputation. Especially when they discover a matched passion for roleplaying. For Cass, it’s an exciting departure from her normal, shy persona. But for Ryan, it triggers memories of a time when his fetish drove away the woman he loved—leaving him reluctant to risk a repeat performance.

  Except Cass refuses to settle for ordinary ever again. She’s about to show the man with hair-trigger hands that she’s got a few surprise moves of her own.

  Warning: This book contains dirty-hot roleplaying, featuring an all-alpha fighter pilot and an ambitious waitress with a fabulous imagination. Also: dressing-room sex, a plaid schoolgirl skirt, and a sprinkling of spankings.

  Enjoy the following excerpt for Double Down:

  She assessed her appearance in the bathroom’s full-length mirror. For the hundredth time. No change. She still looked like a naughty fantasy.

  A French maid. She should’ve guessed.

  Her grin took on a distinctly sexual edge, which she didn’t mind at all. The blush too felt right—a little self-conscious, a little anxious. Already the temperature in her blood upped toward scalding.

  “You greedy slut,” she whispered to her reflection, the grin broadening. “One great time wasn’t enough.”

  Her nerves stretched and stretched as she waited. She’d ordered room service and managed to take a quick shower. Her hair was still wet, but she’d bound it in a sleek bun at the base of her neck. A light application of the cosmetics she’d snagged during a two-minute run through a store in The Paris’s lobby had done wonders to hold back the look of fatigue.

  Ryan’s knock, when it came, sped her heartbeat. If she played the French maid, she wondered what he would be. A bedraggled traveler who’d had the buttons yanked off his shirt? A down-on-his-luck gambler?

  And just how far would she push this? Cass had spent the last hour trying to get inside his head. There was a huge gulf between a bit of dress-up and full roleplaying. She was almost surprised at how much she wanted it to be the latter. Something that tipped over, deep inside. Something had unlocked. She could be anything, say anything, do anything.

  The worst he would do is laugh, maybe flash that pulse-pounding smile and tell her to drop the act. He might merely be a guy after something different to look at, but that didn’t feel right, not for Ryan. She had a guess as to what he liked, and she was willing to give it a shot.

  His knock was more insistent the second time. Good. She didn’t like to think that he’d give up on her.

  Cass took a deep breath and opened the door.

  Ryan stood at the threshold wearing a fantastic dress uniform. The dark blue did marvelous things for his healthy tan, and the braided silver trim looked impressively realistic. Navy? No, that wasn’t right. Air Force, maybe?

  More than the color and the authenticity of the costume, she loved how it was exactly tailored to his body—tall and lean, long and strong. Only a slack, bewildered expression gave away his response to her maid’s outfit. Otherwise he embodied everything impressive and sexy about a man in uniform.

  “Oh! Monsieur Haverty,” she said in her best French accent. A year spent studying art in Paris would finally prove good for something. “I hadn’t expected you so soon. Merci, come in.”

  He hesitated for only a second. Then the reality of what she’d done and said—how she sounded—seemed to click in his brain. “Thank you. I didn’t expect to be kept waiting.”

  “My apologies, monsieur. I was only just finishing up.”

  “I don’t appreciate sloppy service.”

  She nibbled her bottom lip, daring to glance up from beneath lowered lashes. He surveyed the hotel room with the air of a man who expected perfection and found it lacking. A curious heat bloomed in her stomach, reveling in his command of the moment.

  She’d been right. The man wanted to play.

  “Your room-service order is waiting for you in the bedroom,” she said, pitching her voice toward conciliatory. “As you requested.”

  “Oh?” He lifted his brows. “I’m curious if you managed to get that right, at least.”

  She ushered him into the bedroom where a rolling silver-tone cart was topped with a plate of fresh fruit and a bottle of champagne on ice. She’d ordered the items no matter the sticker shock, figuring they’d sort out paying for it later. Tonight was about living a fantasy.

  Ryan strolled to the cart. His expression verged on haughty as he surveyed the assortment. “Good enough.”

  “I’m pleased, Monsieur Haverty.”

  “It’s Major Haverty, actually.”

  “Major?”

  “Yes. And you are?”

  “Cassandra,” she said, briefly shaking hands. That same electric zap they’d shared from the first moment reappeared, only stronger. She almost dropped character. Ryan’s teasing grin made a brief reappearance, as if he too was tempted to laugh.

  Then it was gone. He was Major Haverty again.

  “Where are you from, Cassandra?”

  “Montparnasse, in Paris.”

  Dear Lord, he was unbelievably handsome in that uniform. She wondered again where he’d picked it up. Had he returned to the sex shop? Or someplace else? He stood with his shoulders back, his posture firm and solid. The thought turned her on in funny, unpredictable ways. The roleplaying was easy to indulge when he fit the part so perfectly.

  “What do you do in the military? Is it the Air Force?”

  “That’s right,” he said. “I fly fighter jets. F-16
s.”

  Cass’s jaw dropped. He could do that all day, adding facts to his character that would’ve seriously jeopardized the absorbency of her panties—had she been wearing any.

  No matter how fabulous Ryan looked, her hands were restless for wanting to see him stripped. Something about his expression, however, told her he’d be the one giving orders.

  Yes, sir.

  “Well, I should finish up my duties.” So breathless now, she heard her accent slipping.

  She turned to leave the bedroom, but he called out, “Miss? Could you help me first?”

  “My pleasure, monsie—I mean, Major.”

  He seemed to stifle a private smile. “This coat.” He began undoing the buttons. “It’s too hot in here for it. I won’t be able to get comfortable.”

  “I should think not.” She crossed the floor, her knees shaky. “Here, let me help.”

  He dropped his arms to his sides as she undid the remaining buttons. Her breath was coming in fitful gulps, but she forced herself to concentrate.

  Calm down.

  By the looks of how they were playing this hand, they would take their time. She needed to get herself under control or she’d wind up begging for a quickie down on the carpet to cut the tension. What she loved about their game was what would rip her up inside. The waiting. The deliberate buildup.

  She pressed her hands flat against his body, right above his ribs. Slowly, slowly, she smoothed them up the inside of his coat, making love to his chest with her palms and her fingertips. His shoulders were tense. Corded ropes of muscles bunched and relaxed beneath her touch. She eased the dress coat over his shoulders then down his brawny arms.

  Through it all he held his tense stance, chin thrust out. She liked to think she had all of him at attention, but she didn’t dare go for his crotch. Not yet.

  The coat dropped to the floor behind him. “Thank you,” he said curtly. “You can hang that up now.”

  Cass hid her smile. She angled her backside in such a way that he would get the choicest view as she bent at the waist. She took her time, first retrieving the coat, then strolling to the closet where she found a hanger. Every action felt bathed in molasses, so achingly slow. In that hotel room, time had ceased.

  A pop sound yanked her heart into her throat. She turned to find Ryan pouring champagne. The pale blue dress shirt did even better things for his tan than the dark coat. Muscles pulled and shifted with every movement. Her mouth watered at the prospect of seeing him fully nude. They’d shared so much so quickly, but damn did they have a long way to go.

  “Come,” he said.

  “So soon?”

  His gaze jumped to hers. His expression told her she was naughty to risk ruining their charade. “Cut the impertinence, miss. Come here.”

  She toyed with the lace edge of her skirt as she approached. His eyes jumped and danced, as if trying to take in everything.

  He handed her a full champagne flute before downing a big gulp from his. Maybe he wasn’t as controlled as he managed to appear. “Now, drink.”

  Cass dove in for a healthy sip. The bubbles went straight to her oxygen-starved brain. Ryan made her half-drunk already. The alcohol didn’t stand a chance when compared to his blatant sex appeal.

  “I want you to do something for me,” he said, his voice tight and low.

  “Anything. Anything you need.”

  “Go sit on that loveseat.”

  Cass willed her feet to move. She crossed away from the serving cart and sat primly on the edge of the loveseat’s stiff cushion.

  The window behind her allowed the lights of the Strip to shine in, bathing his face and his crisp, pale blue shirt in color. She just waited, perched there, loving the way he touched her everywhere with his hot gaze.

  “Cassandra,” he said softly.

  “Oui?”

  “I’m going to go down on you.”

  The man won the hand, but the women changed the rules.

  Duty Bound

  © 2011 Myla Jackson

  Bound and Tied, Book 2

  Cowgirl KC Matheson is fresh out of ideas. Thanks to her father’s unlucky poker hand, her family is about to lose their ranch. Desperate to entice the winner to let her family keep their home, KC appeals to a sensual stranger, Rosalyn, to help awaken her inner vixen. A vixen with the womanly skills to make a deal with the devil.

  Sent to fetch a companion for his partner’s pregnant wife, miner Jake Thompson never thought luck could change this fast. First, his royal flush lands him a ranch. Then a punch in the face. Now the rancher’s daughter, a woman with a body made for sin, is trying to seduce him into giving up his winnings. Jake has a better idea: her for the ranch. And to ensure she makes good on the bargain, there’s a catch—she has to keep his interest, or the deal is off.

  The three set off on the two-day trek to Jake’s claim, experiencing wondrous delights in the cool mountain air. Then reality sets in, leaving Jake saddled with a mail-order bride, a deflowered virgin, and an unexpected desire to make things right with KC…forever.

  Warning: This title contains hot ménage a trois scenes, girl-on-girl action, bondage, and two determined women—double the heat for one sexy miner. To settle a debt right proper only takes some female know-how, a willing student and a length of rope!

  Enjoy the following excerpt for Duty Bound:

  KC glanced down at the thin, light blue shirt, and her face burned. The dark circles of her nipples shown through in the firelight. She crossed her arms over her breasts.

  Jake stood next to the fire, stripped his shirt off and draped it over a branch near the crackling flames. “If it offends you, turn your backs. I’ll only take a moment.”

  KC obliged. Rosalyn had no qualms watching Jake strip out of his trousers. “My, my. He is quite the catch,” she whispered.

  “Have you no decency?” KC hissed through her clattering teeth. Too cold to give a damn, she finally moved to unbutton her shirt, only her fingers were too stiff to maneuver the buttons out of their holes.

  “Let me. After all I feel responsible.”

  “Damn right you are. What got into you?”

  “I don’t know. Seems like you might have taken all night to get naked.” Rosalyn removed the last button and slid the shirt from KC’s shoulders. “Falling in the creek sped up the process.” Her slim fingers trailed over KC’s chilled skin, spreading warmth where they touched. “Mr. Thompson, is it right to assume sharing body warmth is one of the best ways to warm somebody quickly?”

  Rosalyn unbuttoned her riding coat and dropped it to the ground. She worked the buttons loose at the waist of her riding skirt and let it slide down her legs, leaving her standing in her blouse and drawers. She planted her fists on her hips and glared. “Are you two going to stand there and freeze to death?”

  “No, ma’am.” Jake shucked his trousers and long underwear, standing there in nothing but the clothes God gave him, a grin spreading across his face.

  “That’s more like it.” Rosalyn removed her blouse and twisted her arms behind her to reach for the strings of her corset.

  Jake came up behind her. “Let me help.”

  KC stood with her mouth open as Jake let Rosalyn manipulate him like she’d manipulated KC into the water and now out of her clothing. The cool night air made her sluggish and she’d stopped shivering. If she didn’t get out of the wet trousers, they’d freeze against her skin. The nights in the mountains sometimes got down below freezing. If she didn’t do something soon, she might as well die.

  With a sigh, she unbuttoned her trousers and peeled them down over her thighs, kicking them and her boots off together.

  Jake whistled when she stood naked in the light from the campfire, his hand growing still over the laces of Rosalyn’s corset.

  Rosalyn reached behind her, finished loosening the laces and slid the corset down over her hips, pushing the drawers with it. Wearing her fancy black boots and nothing else, she pulled the blanket from the back of her saddle and spread
it out beside the fire.

  Jake grabbed his and the one from the back of KC’s saddle and held them out.

  KC shook her head, the lure of the fire too much of a temptation. Rosalyn walked by her and squeezed her naked ass. “Shoulders back. Be proud of your body,” she whispered.

  With a deep breath, KC pushed her shoulders back and forced her arms to her sides. Her breasts jutted forward, the nipples forming shriveled little peaks, gooseflesh pebbling every inch of her skin.

  “Come, Katherine.” Jake held the blanket for her as she walked into it and let him wrap its warmth around her curves.

  “My name is KC.” Her words shook with the force of a mighty shiver snaking down her spine.

  “I’m not going to ravish your body.” He grinned. “At least not until you’re thawed out.”

  Her lips pressed together. “Have I told you I’ve been known to throw a two-hundred-pound calf down in twenty seconds?” She lost some of the threat in her voice with the sound of her teeth clattering together.

  Jake laughed out loud, the movement rumbling against her back. “I’ll be sure not to bawl like a calf.”

  His laughter made the frown loosen on KC’s forehead. The man was almost human when he smiled. Still, she held tightly to her anger at the entire situation, while knowing she had to live up to her end of the ill-fated bargain.

  A shiver shook his frame and he hugged her back to his front, fitting the curve of her bottom against his thighs.

  Rosalyn took the other blanket and wrapped it around her shoulders, then she stood behind Jake, enfolding him into the warmth of her dry arms. They huddled together beside the fire, letting the blaze warm them.

  As KC’s body began to relax, she could feel other parts of Jake’s body stiffen. Her breath quickened. How soon would he demand the ultimate payment? Would she be ready? Would it hurt?

  Rosalyn’s hands moved around Jake and bumped against KC’s back, skimming down over her to her bottom. “It works better if you get skin to skin, KC.” She tugged at the blanket.