He took several steps backward and lowered himself on the stairs with me straddling his lap.
“Ride me,” he growled, picking me up by the waist and centering me on his steely, unbending rod. I slid over him gladly, wrapping him in my sleek heat. My nails dug into his chest as he filled me to capacity, and his head fell back while he groaned loudly.
I leaned forward, licking up the center of his throat and trailing wet kisses over his flesh. He grabbed my hips and I started to move, riding him like he was a wild bull and I was a cowboy.
Every single time I rocked, the sides of his rigid length would rub along my inner walls, massaging the swollen, needy flesh and making me moan. Brody wrapped his arms around me and surged upward, angling his hips off the stair and penetrating me even deeper. I bore down on him. The pressure of our bodies rubbing together was so good that it made me cry out.
When his lips closed over my nipple and tugged, an orgasm ripped through me. I felt my wet insides coat him as his cock began to pulse within me. I kept rocking, unable to stop. The waves of pleasure just kept crashing over me.
Brody slammed himself up inside me one last time and shouted my name. His hot seed spilled inside me, and my body gulped it in like I was a dying man in need of a drink.
I collapsed against him, my skin slick with sweat and breathing heavily. God, he was so unbelievable satisfying. Sometimes I marveled at the fact we’d been together for almost an entire year, yet we still rushed home on our lunch hours just so we could be together.
He drew lazy circles over my lower back with his fingertip, and I reveled in the way his touch made me quiver.
“Damn, I love living here,” he drawled, the satisfaction in his tone undeniable.
Not long after we started dating, my best friend moved out to take a job a few hours away, and since Brody always told me I was his home, he moved in.
“I love you,” I told him.
His sigh was content when he lifted my boneless body off his chest so he could look into my face with his espresso stare. “I love you, Taylor.” His voice was husky from our heated sex.
I was never going to get tired of hearing him say that. I collapsed once more against his bare chest and sighed.
“I was thinking,” he said. “We should get out of town for a bit, just me and you.”
I sat up and stared down at him, the red waves of my hair falling between us. “Is it work? Has someone made a threat against you?”
“No, Tay.” He tucked the hair behind my ear. “Nothing like that. There hasn’t been one hint of a threat or retaliation since that night Snake came to your dad’s.”
I blew out a breath. It seemed his past with the organization was definitely behind us and wasn’t going to be a risk toward our future. “Then why do you want to leave town?”
He smiled. “There’s this thing called vacation…”
I smiled. “Oooh, I like the sound of that.”
“I’m thinking Hawaii. The sand, the water, you… me…” He gave me a suggestive look, reaching up to cover my breast with his palm.
“I like the way you’re talking.”
“I was also thinking maybe while we’re there… you might marry me.”
The world stopped. It was as if we were a movie and someone hit pause. Long, incredible seconds stretched by. And then I took a breath.
“You want to get married?” I whispered.
“I want to tie myself to you in every possible way.” From somewhere, despite his naked body, he produced a small velvet box.
I took it and carefully lifted the lid.
Nestled in the velvet pillow was a ring I knew very well. A sob ripped from my throat.
“How did you—” my voice broke as I reached down to finger the gorgeous antique ring. It was my mother’s wedding ring. My mother’s mother wore it before she passed it on to my father to give it to her.
As a child, I used to sit and admire it, thinking how beautiful it was and how much my father must have loved her to give her something so sentimental. It was something I always would associate with my mother because she never took it off. In fact, she loved it so dearly I thought she was buried with it when she died.
“When I went to ask your father for his blessing, he gave it to me.”
My eyes filled with tears. “You asked my father?”
Brody nodded. “I respect him. He loves you.”
A tear escaped and rained down across my cheek. I couldn’t stop staring at the ring. It was more stunning than even I recalled.
“I didn’t realize he had this,” I said, fingering the delicate gold band.
“He told me right before she died, your mother took it off and gave it to him. She made him promise that when the time was right, he would make sure you had it and that you knew how much she loved you.”
A sob caught in my throat as even more tears flooded my face.
I couldn’t speak. I could barely breathe when he took the box from my hands and removed the ring. I continued to cry and make a mess of myself as he positioned the ring to slide it over my finger.
“What’s your answer, Tay?”
“Yes,” I said, the word barely even comprehensible through my sobs.
It slid over my knuckle with ease, fitting into place like my finger was exactly where it belonged. I stared down at the unconventional ring, my chest expanding with joy. It wasn’t a diamond, but instead, the large square center stone was a blue-green tourmaline that reminded me of the ocean waves. On each side of the stone was a cluster of three seed pearls. It was all set in a delicate eighteen-carat gold band that lovingly held tight to the stones.
“Oh my God, Brody, you have no idea what this means to me.”
He smiled and reached up to stroke my cheek, wiping away some of the tears. “I’m going to love you forever,” he vowed.
And he did.
THE END
Taylor’s Overnight Pumpkin
French Toast Bake
INGREDIENTS
1 loaf of French bread (or any type of bread you have – I always use French bread. It’s roughly 5-7 cups of bread, cubed.)
7 eggs
½ cup of pumpkin puree (canned works!)
2 cups of milk (I use almond milk. You can use what you prefer.)
1 tsp vanilla extract
1.5 tsp of ground cinnamon
Shake of ginger (I literally shake the spice canister over the bowl to add a little)
Shake of nutmeg (I literally shake the spice canister over the bowl to add a little)
Brown sugar for topping (3-4 tablespoons)
DIRECTIONS
Tear or cut the bread into chunks or bite-sized pieces. Place bread into a lightly greased 9x13 baking dish and set aside. In a mixing bowl, mix together the seven eggs, pumpkin, milk, vanilla, and spices.
Pour the egg mixture over the bread cubes. Then, using your hand, press down lightly on the bread to soak the mixture through. Once the bread is moist, cover the dish tightly with a lid or plastic wrap.
Refrigerate overnight.
In the morning (Good morning!) preheat your oven to 350 degrees.
Sprinkle the brown sugar over top of the French toast (Be as generous as you like).
Bake for 35-45 minutes.
Serve warm with syrup or honey drizzled over the top (I also put butter on mine)!
Enjoy!
AUTHOR’S NOTE
I cannot believe I am sitting here writing the author’s note/acknowledgements for the eighth Take it Off novel. When I decided to give writing the New Adult genre a go and add in some of that sexy flare everyone seems to love so much, I was so nervous.
I remember bellyaching to my writing buddies Cameo Renae and Amber Garza about how hard writing something without paranormal was and how I thought everyone would be bored to tears by it all.
Now I have a hard time thinking about switching back to paranormal.
Don’t worry… I will. The Death Escorts series will get finished—hopefully sometime thi
s year.
I just really want to acknowledge all of you—the readers. When I first started writing this series, I really didn’t think it would get the amount of reception it did. I mean, sure, I hoped, but I didn’t really expect it. It’s been so awesome to be able to write these fun, sexy stories and have so many of you enjoy them.
So thank you.
Let’s see… What was happening with me as I was writing this book? Well, as many of you know, I live in the South, in North Carolina. Well, it has snowed like three times since I started this book. That’s the most it’s ever snowed here in one winter since I moved here five years ago.
So while I was writing this book, we had lots of snow days, lots of no school, and lots of time in the house. I think it pretty much is starting to make me crazy!
Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!
Okay, I feel better now.
Actually, as I sit here and type this, Robocop is playing on TV. I’ve never seen it before. It’s very eighties. Ha-ha-ha. And can someone please tell me why the police officers wear those helmets? It’s a little odd… LOL!
Oh, and we adopted a new cat. It literally just came right in my house. My husband saw it standing at the back door one night and it looks similar to my other cat, Pumpkin. So he opened up the door and told “Pumpkin” to get in the house. Only it wasn’t Pumpkin.
It’s like that TV commercial where the woman invites a raccoon inside to snuggle. I guess I should be glad it wasn’t a raccoon. LOL.
Anyway, he realized his mistake and put it back outside, and the cat hung around for days (Yeah, I fed it. You would have too.), but then we got another snow and ice storm and I sort of invited him inside. So, yeah, we have a new cat. His name is Cinnamon. We call him Cinny. He doesn’t have very good manners. We’re working on it.
I know you are all just so enthralled by my randomness that is this note. I’ll wrap it up.
Oh! I almost forgot! I have OFFICIAL news! Cambria Hebert Books is now an “official” business. It is now Cambria Hebert Books, LLC. You can see my snazzy new logo at the beginning of this book. The talented Regina Wamba of Mae I Design designed it.
Again, I have you readers to thank for picking up my books and reading. It’s because of all of you I was able to turn my dream into a business.
Next up, I will be writing Tryst. I hope you all enjoyed Tattoo, and if you did, please consider leaving a review!
See you next book!
Cambria
Turn the page for a sneak peek of
TRYST,
the next Take It Off novel,
coming April 2014!
TRYST
Sneak Peek
by Cambria Hebert
Talie
I hadn’t had sex in six months. Six months. I was practically a born-again virgin. I mean, seriously. They say when you get married, your sex life goes down the toilet, but I didn’t know who “they” were, and I thought for sure my sex life wouldn’t go downhill until I was some old lady.
I was not old.
And I kind of wanted to punch “they” in the face.
I’ll blame my aggression on sexual frustration.
Weren’t men supposed to be a bunch of horn-dogs? In my experience, they sure were. My husband and I used to have sex all the time, but it slowly began to dwindle and then it pretty much fell off the face of the earth.
But that was going to change. I was going to do something about it. The way I saw it, I could let my insides shrivel up from lack of pleasure, or I could take the bull by the horns (or penis).
Shriveling up did not sound so appealing so I took the afternoon off from work (no loss there) and decided to go home and set the stage for a night of getting it on. On my way, I stopped at the store and picked up some candles, a see-through hot-pink nightie, and some edible massage oil.
I let myself into the apartment and shut the door behind me. Just as I made it to the kitchen counter, I heard a sound.
A moan.
I set the bag on the counter, soundlessly, and cocked my head, listening. Another moan floated through the apartment, and I wrinkled my nose.
Had I left the TV on when I left for work this morning?
And if so, what the hell kind of daytime shows did they play these days?
I padded down the hallway, over the plush carpet, and stopped in front of my partially closed bedroom door.
The sounds of heavy breathing and the bouncing of a mattress were unmistakable.
I was really trying not to think bad thoughts.
Really.
But I mean… it smelled like sex out here. A deep, musky scent that clung to the air.
I laid my palm against the door and pushed it open, stepping slowly in the doorway.
It took me quite a few seconds to register what I was seeing. Shock rendered me motionless. All I could do was stand there and gape.
I hadn’t left the TV on this morning.
And now I knew why my husband hadn’t pleased me in the past six months.
He was too busy pleasing someone else. Someone who was not his wife.
They were so involved in the act that they didn’t even know I was there. So I watched them. This was my house. That was my bed. And frankly, a part of me thought I was dreaming.
The white combed-cotton sheets that I had shopped for diligently where all wound around the legs of the couple in the center of the king-sized bed. The pillows I loving picked out were all skewed from the thrusting and movement going on, and the dark-gray comforter was half falling off the bed and onto the floor.
There was a woman sitting on top of my husband. Her hair was very long and thick, the color of chestnuts, and it waved down her back wildly like they’d been at the deed for a while already. As I stared, she pushed up off him and sat up, titling her head back and letting out a very loud moan as she moved over him, grinding her body against his.
I watched as my husband reached up and grabbed her breasts, giving them a little squeeze and grunting with pleasure.
Pain sliced through my belly.
How could he do this to me? How could he tell me he loved me, ask me to spend the rest of my life with him, and then bring another woman home and into our bed?
The pain I felt might have been incapacitating, but it didn’t stay long enough. It was quickly replaced by anger. Hot, furious sparks ignited inside me and my feet began to move.
I walked farther into the room and stopped at the edge of the bed.
“Talie!” My husband gasped, shooting into a sitting position. The woman screwing my husband didn’t slide off of him. Instead, she buried her face into his naked chest, like she was trying to hide.
It pissed me off.
I reached out and grabbed a handful of that thick, luxurious hair and yanked her backward. “Get the hell off my husband, you dirty ho.”
She screeched as I pulled her back off his lap, revealing his proud member. I scowled and dumped her and her fake boobs on the floor.
“Talie, I can explain,” he said, pulling the blanket up to cover his manhood. He was probably nervous I might grab it like I grabbed Barbie’s hair.
I wasn’t touching that thing ever again.
And really… was that like every idiot’s favorite line? I can explain.
“You don’t need to explain. My eyes work just fine,” I snapped.
The girl scrambled up off the carpet and started gathering her clothes, which were tossed around my bedroom.
“I hope he satisfies you because he sure as hell never satisfied me,” I spat.
Her eyes widened and Blake (my cheating husband) began to sputter.
“Shut up,” I told him as I grabbed Barbie again and started towing her through the apartment toward the front door.
“I’m not dressed!” she screeched.
“What a shame.”
I flung open the door and shoved her out. She stood there in the center of the hallway, clutching her clothes against her naked chest. Her eyes narrowed and a mean look crossed he
r face.
“He told me you never made him happy.”
“You might wanna pay a visit to the surgeon who did your tits. They’re lopsided.” I slammed the door in her shocked face.
My chest was heaving and my hands were shaking when I turned around.
Blake was standing there, buttoning up a pair of black slacks. “Was that really necessary?”
At least he didn’t try to come up with some stupid-ass excuse. There was no excuse for him. And there was no excuse for why I married him, why I stayed in a marriage that was clearly never going to make me happy.
I opened the door once more. Thankfully, Barbie had already run off.
“Get out.”
He stared at me.
“I’m pretty sure I didn’t stutter. I said get the hell out.”
“This is my apartment too,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest.
“Oh, you can have it,” I replied calmly. “I’ll be gone in two hours.”
His arms dropped to his sides. “Where are you going to go?” Shock registered on his face, and I realized then that he didn’t respect me. He probably never did. He knew he would get caught eventually, but he thought I would stay. He thought I would put up with it.
He didn’t know me at all.
“It’s none of your business. Now get out before I start to scream.”
He came forward, stopping just in front of me. He reached up as if he were going to touch my face. I slapped his hand away. “I’ll be gone in two hours.”
Once he was in the hall, I slammed the door and threw the locks. I sagged against the white-painted wood and expelled a breath. I felt like I just ran a marathon. My chest squeezed tight, my stomach hurt, and every single limb on my body was heavy and exhausted.
Tears threatened behind my eyes and I sniffled. I glanced at the bag full of my romance supplies.
What a big, fat freaking joke.
I shoved away from the door, lifted my chin, and dashed away the unshed tears.
Tattoo Page 19
