He risked a glance at Inella. She stood utterly transfixed, her breasts rising and falling in growing excitement, the fingers of one hand trailing along their upper swells in an absent caress, as if she didn’t even realize she did it. At the sight, Karal’s cock practically howled in indignant need, the wail of a shameless glutton too long deprived. He really ought to have gone back to the Bull’s Bollocks and found that whore. How the devil was he supposed to get through an entire evening in the same room with a woman he lusted for, and another he had just witnessed coming all over her lover’s face?
He looked inside once more. Aru had pulled Viera’s bottom right off the edge of the cushion so it hung suspended, her body skewered on the spear of his cock. He held her bent legs high so they crushed her breasts, opening her sex to Karal’s view. Her hands clutched the carved back of the settee as Aru’s shaft, pale and thick, slammed into her again and again. It wasn’t long before his face contorted, becoming a mask of excruciating pleasure as he pounded into her one last time.
Beside Karal, Inella was panting, her cheeks and the tops of her breasts flushed pink, her eyes dark with voyeuristic titillation. Karal wondered what she would do if he reached over and took her hand, pulled her close. Would she melt into him, or recoil in mingled irritation and dismay?
He thought they had shared a few moments over the last couple of days. An accidental touch that did not seem precisely accidental, a smiling glance quickly hidden when she noticed he was looking, a growing tendency of hers to toy with her hair and tilt her head when she spoke to him. But these subtle women’s courting games were not his strength. Things were simple with whores—as long as you paid them, they liked you fine—and unutterably difficult with everyone else. Certainly, social discomfort was not unique to the Kurgae’in, but it was all too common in them. He’d lived his whole life privy to the most private thoughts and feelings of those around him, the gift and curse of the Kurgan collective awareness. Here, among these Andun, he had only his eyes and ears to measure the intentions of others, tools he had never before had cause to hone.
In the salon, Aru had gathered Viera close to him on his lap, his hands stroking up and down her back as he pressed his cheek into her unbound hair. She smiled as she spoke to him, pulling back to look into his face. Her gaze shone with an emotion even Karal could read, and Aru’s was no less bright. After a few moments, they rose and began straightening their clothes.
Karal looked down again at Inella to find her scrubbing at her eyes. He almost told her to stop sniveling, but some latent instinct for self-preservation thankfully intervened before he could. She turned to him, craning her neck to look at him, and before he knew what she was about, she reached up and took his face in both her hands, pulling his head down and pressing a kiss to his cheek.
He blinked, unsuccessfully willing his cock to quiescence. “What was that for?”
She smiled. “That was for Viera and Aru.”
Then, tugging him down once more, she pressed her mouth to his, her tongue darting out to stroke the seam of his lips and then push between them. Astonished, he could only stand there, his cock aching, his heart hammering as she kissed him. His hands recovered from the shock faster than his brain did, and clasped her shoulders, pulling her up against him. At last, she pulled her face away and gazed into his eyes, her own dark and glazed with excitement.
“And what was that for?” he asked, his voice nothing but a dry croak as desire snaked through him.
She smiled slyly up at him. “That one was for me.”
He gaped at her for a moment, then grinned. She grinned back and skipped like a girl to the door, knocking very loudly. He came to stand at her shoulder to wait. After considerable agonizing, he put his hand on the small of her back and was intensely relieved when she didn’t protest.
She shot him a sidelong glance. “I was thinking…”
“Mmph. That’s hardly news.” He scowled, trying to resist the curiosity that was eating him alive. “About what?” he asked finally.
“I thought perhaps, before you walk me home tonight, we could stop by your place.”
His mouth opened, but by Salgrim’s prick, he could find nothing remotely delicate or chivalrous to say in answer to that. All things considered, Inella was lucky he didn’t just shove her down on the nearest horizontal surface and give it to her right there. He stared at her, gaping like a landed fish and trying in vain to think of something—anything—tender to say. Then the door opened and Viera ushered them both inside with hugs and kisses and exclamations of delight. And the happiness he felt as he stepped into the glow of candles and hearth, Inella at his side, left him speechless yet again.
About the Author
Kirsten Saell lives a thrilling life that parallels those of her characters, her days full of peril and trepidation, her nights overflowing with steamy encounters with exciting men (and women) in dangerous, exotic worlds. Or she would, were she not so comfortable and satisfied living in a small town in coastal British Columbia with her husband and three wonderful kids. Still, a girl can dream. More importantly, she can type. To learn more about Kirsten Saell or read more of her words, please visit www.kirstensaell.com, or send an email to [email protected]. She’d be delighted to hear from you.
Look for these titles by Kirsten Saell
Now Available:
Crossing Swords
Coming Soon:
Bound by Steel
One duel. Easy money. Then Gil fell for his opponent.
Crossing Swords
© 2008 Kirsten Saell
A straight duel to the death. A professional opponent who’s paying him to win. This was going to be the easiest money Gil had ever earned. Except he never counted on his opponent being a woman. And he never counted on falling for her.
After avenging the brutal murder of her lover, all Lianon wants is to die a clean death. Too bad the man she hired doesn’t do women, and he’s furious over her deception. Not only does he renege on their contract, he has the gall to lock her up in his apartment—naked, no less!—to punish her for her ruse.
If she could just get her mind out of the gutter, she’d cut him a new smile. But ever since he saw through her boy’s clothes, all she can think about is getting him naked too.
But just when she’s found something to live for, the father of her lover’s murderer surfaces. He wants Lianon to die screaming—and he’s all too happy to take Gil down with her.
Enjoy the following excerpt for Crossing Swords:
Crossing to the door, she pressed against the wood with her fingers, testing it for weakness, dry-rot or cracks. For all that this place was a dump, the door and frame seemed sturdy enough. She might be able to break it down, but not until she had her strength back, and that might be another two or three days. And with the key still turned in the lock, she couldn’t pick it, even if she had the proper tools.
Her eyes went to the basket of firewood next to the hearth. Some of the quarters there were pretty big, with decent heft. She smiled. Pictured what Gil’s handsome face would look like after an encounter with a piece of seasoned oak.
Feeling much better, she went to the hearthrug, dropped to all fours and did some push-ups. She made it to fifty this time before dizziness convinced her to stop. Three sets of sit-ups and then some lunges. She was sweating and nauseous, but it felt good to get moving again.
A draft caressing the heated skin of her bare legs made her turn, and she froze mid-lunge.
Gil stood in the doorway, a wide grin splitting his face, his eyes raking her up and down.
She glared back, mortified at the sensation of her nipples pebbling. Just the draft, she insisted. Her stomach was fluttering. She told herself it was embarrassment.
“I came up to see if you were feeling better,” he said, his voice a low purr that seemed to resonate in her flesh. “I’m guessing you are.”
“Fuck you,” she said coldly.
His grin widened, and his eyes fixed on her breasts, hard
ly concealed by the translucent silk clinging to her sweat-soaked body. “Is that a curse?” he asked, stepping inside and pulling the door shut. “Or an offer?”
God, she felt stripped naked under his gaze, and knowing what ridiculously little she wore wasn’t helping. With difficulty, she resisted the impulse to dive for the bed and cover herself with the sheet. It would only amuse him. Turning to face him square, she pulled her shoulders back, standing straight and tall, ignoring how her nipples jutted. Only the heat that rose to her face betrayed her discomfiture.
“I thought I made that offer this morning,” she said icily. “Does this mean you’ve grown the balls to take me up on it?”
His grin disappeared, replaced by a clenched coldness. He walked forward slowly, eyes glittering with anger, until he stood right in front of her. Her chest had begun to heave—panic or dread or excitement, or all three. He was staring at her chest, couldn’t help but see how swift her breath was coming. One hand lifted, found her breast. It filled his palm perfectly. Lianon bit the inside of her cheek as his thumb flicked across her nipple through the thin silk. Her body responded of its own volition, her nipple peaking, a heaviness settling in her nether parts, her breath catching.
His other hand came up to rest on the side of her neck, his thumb caressing the sensitive spot behind her ear. Oh, god, what was he doing to her? Her heart was hammering, her face hot, her lungs suddenly starving for air. How could she be attracted to this man? How could her traitorous body have chosen now to come back to life?
His eyes had softened. Not a good thing at all. His anger she could deal with—tenderness was another matter altogether. He leaned closer, his lips almost touching hers before they descended to her throat. At their first caress, her eyes drifted shut and her head fell back as a wave of languid warmth washed over her. He kissed her fluttering pulse-point, his tongue licking delicately, sending heat snaking down her torso to settle between her legs. He was still toying with her breast, gently pinching the nipple between his thumb and forefinger, twisting and tugging. God. God. She couldn’t let him do this. She couldn’t afford to feel this, to feel anything.
Her breath caught on a ragged sob, but she clamped down on it. Clamped down on herself. Forced words out of her mouth that she knew would get his attention.
“Don’t forget your part of the bargain,” she said unevenly, even as she cringed inside.
His hand stilled, his mouth ceased its caresses. “What?” She couldn’t believe how much coldness he could inject into that one word.
“I let you fuck me, then you send me to the goddess. Clean and painless.”
He stepped back, his gaze sweeping up and down her body, filled with contempt. “You’re a piece of work, aren’t you?” he snapped. “I’d call you a whore, but I wouldn’t want to insult Viera.”
Her hand swung out before she realized it, connecting with his bearded cheek. A little surprised at herself for enjoying it so much, she raised her hand for another blow, but he snatched her wrist out of the air. “Let’s get one thing straight,” he hissed, his grip on her wrist tight enough to bruise. “We don’t have any deal. If I ever decide to lower myself to fucking you, I’ll do it.”
She wet her lips, refusing to struggle in his grasp, knowing it would only make her look weak. Instead she forced her features to coldness. “Rape doesn’t seem quite your style.”
His eyes darkened, his smile half derision half lust. His free hand slipped between her thighs, one finger inching inside the leg-opening of her lacy drawers. She held herself perfectly rigid, refusing to respond, but her sopping pussy betrayed her. He lifted his wet finger to his lips, his nostrils flaring at the scent, before tasting her cream. “Oh,” he said silkily, “it won’t be rape, I assure you.”
She glared at him, unable to think of anything to say. The scent of her arousal hovered between them and said it all. He only laughed at her dismay, and swaggered to the door. “I’ll see you tonight,” he promised with another laugh, before shutting her in.
She stared at the door and bit the inside of her cheek to keep from screaming. That fucking son of a fucking bitch! Her hands were clenched at her sides, refusing to move to the places she really wanted them. Her nipples still protruded, aching for contact. Her cunt was so heavy and wet, she thought she could come just by squeezing her legs together.
Damn it, what was happening to her? She’d gone nearly a year without sex—without even wanting it. Now every nerve in her body was screaming to be fucked.
And by a man she hated. A man who went out of his way to shame her, who thought less of her than a whore. A man who would rather fuck a snake.
The body wants what it wants.
Well, Lianon was more than her body. Crossing to the tin washbasin, she took the cloth and scrubbed the wetness from between her legs, and washed his touch from her breasts.
Gil’s final words echoed in her mind. I’ll see you tonight.
Lianon’s eyes drifted to the basket of wood, lingering on a hefty wedge of oak. Her lips curled in a vengeful smile. Let him come. When he did, he wouldn’t know what hit him.
Friendship crosses boundaries and love becomes a triangle. Can Jana learn to trust—through submission?
Lisa’s Gift
© 2007 Mackenzie McKade
When opportunity knocks, Jana Ryan knows it’s time to face her demons and return to the city she ran fast and far away from. Her homecoming isn’t exactly what she expects—she finds Lisa, her best friend, in a rather erotic position with the one man Jana has dreamt of since high school.
The redheaded beauty is everything Lisa promised Nicolas Marchetti. Jana is sexy and exquisite and he can’t wait to sexually dominate both women. The triangle with the gorgeous redhead and beautiful blonde is every man’s fantasy. Yet there’s something about Jana that makes him want her and her alone. His attraction to her is unsettling—it goes beyond the physical.
Only by conquering the trials ahead of them, can Jana and Nicolas find their way into each other’s arms. Forever.
Enjoy the following excerpt for Lisa’s Gift:
Jana glanced back at Nicolas. He was staring at her. “What?”
“Do you want me to tell you what I see in you?” From the hungry look on his face she would rather not.
“No.”
Again, he leaned back in the booth. That mischievous grin she remembered back when she used to watch him with his friends slipped across his face. “Scared?”
Hell yes she was scared. She had always wanted this man. The years hadn’t changed anything. “Not interested.” She played indifferent, reaching for her wine and taking a sip. Then she released a heavy sigh to drive the point home.
A light danced across his features as his grin grew. “Liar.”
“Whatever.” She brushed him off with a tilt of her head. But if she thought that her impassive behavior was going to stop him, she should have thought again as she took another drink of her wine.
“You are scared—scared of the attraction between us.”
When his foot slid up her leg, Jana choked on the alcohol that chose that moment to go down the wrong way. Air. She needed air as her windpipe closed.
Within a heartbeat, Nicolas was by her side. “Gentle breaths.” He patted her back. “One and then another.”
I’m dying. She wheezed in a breath that went nowhere. She inhaled again, making a rather unbecoming sound like a cross between a snore and an asthmatic attack. The whole time Nicolas was there, talking, touching her softly.
It took a moment, but finally Jana could breathe again. Her eyes were misty and nose running as she excused herself and hurried toward the bathroom.
What the fuck! She leaned against the counter and stared at herself in the mirror. It was no mistake that Nicolas was coming on to her. And there was no mistake that Lisa didn’t mind. How Jana wished she could deny that he made her body burn. She had fantasized about being with him since she was just a teenager. What would it be like to make love to Nicol
as Marchetti?
She couldn’t—could she?
Nah… She shook her head. It would be weird. He was Lisa’s boyfriend. But the fact was, she needed to feel the touch of a man. She wanted to find someone to love.
Nicolas just wasn’t the man for her.
Jana grabbed a tissue, dabbed her eyes, then blew her nose with a loud snort.
She needed a plan to get through dinner and then go home alone.
Concerned, Nicolas watched the bathroom door, and was relieved once Jana exited. He stood as she approached. Her eyes were swollen, her adorable nose red. “Are you okay?”
“Fine.” Sitting at one end of the crescent-shaped booth, she refused to scoot over, forcing him to sit at the other side. “The wine just went down the wrong pipe.” Picking up her glass, she hesitated then set it back down.
He slid clear around on the semi-circular seat until he was within touching distance from her. Her mouth went dry. She glanced at him, feeling her palms start to sweat.
The salad had arrived in her absence, and he busied himself tossing it, mixing the dressing and cheese, before placing a generous helping on her plate.
When he attempted eye contact she glanced away. She had grown distant, not that she had previously been warm by a long shot. He was back at ground zero.
Serving himself a heap of salad, he picked up his fork. “Where were we? Ah… Yes. I was just about to tell you what I see in you.”
“I wish you wouldn’t,” she said, looking down into her plate as she stabbed at a piece of lettuce.
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