Along for the Ride

by Saskia Walker

  She murmured words of love in reply and crouched low, breathing on his neck and face as she whispered to him. His head went further back onto the pillows, and suddenly he grabbed her arms, pulling her down onto him, hard.

  “Georgie,” he whispered, his teeth clenched. His eyes begged her for release. She could feel his cock pushing up against the neck of her womb, jamming close against it, pressing in deep and sending shockwaves right up through her entire body. She fell still and allowed the inner muscles to take over, gripping his penis with the regular contractions of her sex.

  “Oh, yes!” His eyebrows drew down when he felt those deep, rhythmic embraces taking him in. The line of muscle that stretched from his hip down the front of his thighs tightened beneath her. Her body was lifted up with his strength. When he came, his cock moved with mighty lunges. He gripped her hips, pulling her body down hard and still onto the spurting head of his cock. She cried out in pleasure, her body rippling as her core pooled and she came, the inside of her thighs flooding wet with their spending.

  A moment later, while she was still panting and her body was swaying with pleasure, she heard a sound behind her and glanced back, over her shoulder. Foster was staring at them with glazed eyes, his biceps flexing, his body working hard against the ties that bound him. She saw the belt fly out from behind him and one of his arms bounce free. Because his hand was free, she moved, lifting herself away and turning toward him, suspecting he would be totally unleashed and a big problem within the space of a minute. But no, his free hand went straight to his cock, which he grabbed hard and held, his face gleaming with sweat. He rubbed it only four times, the relief in his expression clearly apparent, and then he slumped over again, the effort of restraint set free exhausting him, even while he spurted his load over his lap. The chair rocked hard, teetering from side to side with the great bulk of the squirming man on it, and then fell over, taking him over with it and landing him on the floor like a trussed and bound turkey, fully basted and ready for the oven.

  “Poor guy,” Cal commented. He shook his head and pulled her back toward him, laughing as he clasped her against him again.

  * * * * *

  They stopped at the reception desk and requested maid service to tidy up the room -- it was Georgie’s final dose of humiliation for her inept guard. She had the feeling he would enjoy it, though, and maybe the maid would, too.

  Then they walked down the steps from the hotel, just as the jeep pulled in to rendezvous with them.

  Jason parked, pushed his sunglasses into his spiky hair, and saluted the pair of them, grinning. His companion rested back in the passenger seat, baseball cap on backwards, one arm trailing along the top of the open window, the other hand rubbing at the back of Jason’s neck affectionately while he made the introductions.

  Georgie and Cal exchanged knowing glances.

  “Good to see you safe.” Jason nodded and winked at Georgie. “Have you two made any plans yet?”

  Calvin opened the back door to the jeep and handed Georgie in. “None at all. What had you in mind?”

  Georgie slid in behind Jason, suppressing a smile as she caught sight of their bags alongside an additional suitcase in the back of the jeep. Beside them, a stack of boxes containing brand new camera equipment filled up the remaining space.

  “Zoë has a cottage in the Highlands, a hideaway. I’m going away with her. We’re going to ... catch up on each other.”

  Georgie smiled.

  Bless him -- he blushed when he caught her approving glance. “Thanks for getting me here, guys.” He winked and gave a sheepish grin.

  “No problems. You’re just about worth all the trouble you cause.” Cal’s tone was edged with sarcasm, but he squeezed Georgie’s shoulder and smiled sweetly at Jason.

  “Are you in any rush to get back to London? Zoë has extended the invitation for both of you.” He looked expectantly from one of them to the other.

  “I’d love you to come with us,” Zoë chipped in. She was all blue eyes and bounce. “There’s plenty of space at the house, and it’s close to the best scenery of the Highlands and the whisky trails.”

  Georgie instinctively liked her, and it was clear that Jason’s reunion with the famous star had been a very pleasant one, after all.

  Cal smoothed back her hair as it swept up in the warm summer breeze, drawing her attention toward him. “Sound good, my love?”

  “Oh, yes.” Georgie looked up at him happily.

  “We don’t have to be back until the exhibition and the start of Georgie’s term, next month, so we’re in no rush at all.”

  Georgie nodded her agreement, happy at the way they were linked, content to go anywhere with him. The road ahead, the Highlands, and Cal in her arms. It sounded perfect. She sighed, blissfully happy.

  Jason pulled the jeep out into the traffic.

  She tucked her body in against Cal’s, watching the road ahead. Going along for the ride had changed her life. When Cal kissed her and whispered words of love to her in the back seat of that jeep, she knew she was well on her way to total heaven. But weren’t they all?

  Saskia Walker

  Saskia Walker lives in the north of England, close to the Yorkshire moors, a beautiful, windswept landscape made famous by the Bronte sisters. She writes fiction across several genres: fantasy, erotic romance and erotica. British by birth, she has traveled extensively and believes that visiting exotic countries contributed greatly to her desire to write, that and an extremely vivid and active imagination!

  Saskia has an academic background, with a BA in Art History and a Masters degree in Literature. Creative writing has always been part of her life but has become more important as time has passed, drawing her away from all manner of diverse careers. She has worked as a gallery assistant, an academic librarian, a university administrator, a liaison officer for overseas students studying in the UK, and she coordinated a voluntary befriending scheme for children in care. She was first published in the small press under the guidance of the leading British fantasy writer, Storm Constantine. From there she wrote short stories for the Virgin UK Black Lace imprint and then for US publishers including Cleis Press and Pretty Things Press. 2004 marked the point when she had more real writing hours and time for those longer projects that had been simmering away at the back of her mind – it was an exciting time! That year she was signed by Red Sage as the first British author writing erotic romance for the Secrets series and in 2005 her first novel was signed by Loose-Id. She has lots more stories to tell!

  Saskia's real life hero, Mark, supports her work through all its ups and downs. Together with the big black cat who watches over while she's writing, Mark somehow manages to keep her sane and grounded when fiction threatens to take over.

  * * * * *

  Read on for a tantalizing glimpse of

  Sierra Secrets: Dead Man’s Party

  by Stephanie Vaughan

  Available Now from Loose Id

  Sierra Secrets: Dead Man’s Party

  "Watch where you're stepping. There are several loose boards in this section, too."

  Rick's warning to Catherine as they moved through the old house arose as much from self-preservation as concern for her well-being. The slant of the sun's rays was long this time of year, casting shadows that she wove her way between. The smooth muscles that twitched so enticingly underneath her skirt as she walked two steps ahead of him toward the back of the mansion were the definition of temptation. He wanted to take one of those ass cheeks in each hand and sink his teeth into their succulent flesh. Rick could almost taste them already; how his tongue would slide smoothly over first one, then the other, while he held her firmly in place with hands and teeth.

  He wanted to smack himself upside the head, though, for giving in to her request to show her the rest of the house. All it had taken was a flash of those blue eyes of hers and a softly spoken 'Please?' and he'd been putty in her hands. Shit. She could be a total leadfoot and he'd be willing to bet that she'd never gotten a
ticket in her life. A couple bats of those eyes of hers and what cop stood a chance? Why should he be any different?

  "Oh, look! There it is -- the wash-up sink." Catherine, her voice brimming with excitement, tore her eyes away from the oddly placed sink to smile back at him. Barely two feet from the ground, it would have looked more at home on a kindergarten play yard than the mud room of an old Victorian. But it was the passion that lit her eyes and the radiance of her smile that stopped the breath in Rick's lungs.

  "Isn't it something?"

  She seemed to be looking for some kind of confirmation from him.

  "Yeah. I guess." He shrugged, breathing out at last. "They had big families in those days. A sink for the kids made sense back then."

  "Oh, it wasn't for children -- far from it." A hint of amusement crept into her voice at that." It was for the men. The customers. And it wasn't hands they were washing."

  A door opened in Rick's mind and he stepped into a roomful of memories.

  "Here. Let me help you wash up, love. You've had a long day.”

  Cat, her beautiful black hair sliding in inky waves across her silk-clad shoulders, reached for the buttons at his waist. Her fingers, roughened by the hard work he knew she did, taking exquisite care as she slowly unbuttoned his trousers. Gently shoving the suspenders off his shoulders, her hands a caress to his aching muscles, she went to work next on his shirt.

  Before removing his shirt, she first scraped her short nails across his chest, the wool abrading the sensitive flesh of his nipples. As he bent slightly, to help her pull the shirt off over his head, his lovely Cat dipped her head to lick and soothe the skin she had teased just moments before.

  "Catherine Mary Murphy, I do love you." The words threatened to choke him, so thick did they feel in his throat. He knew he had no right to speak them, and he never had before this moment. But once, just this once, he had to voice what was in his heart so that she would never doubt.

  His hands went around her waist, sliding against the silky fabric of her dressing gown. Praise the saints, she was naked beneath it! Her lips came up to meet his, and he felt the answering groan that signaled her passion. Slipping lower, he gripped the soft flesh of her rump, marveling again at how damn good she felt in his arms.

  "I think -- “

  "That's your problem, boy-o. You think too much." Her arms locked behind his head, while the fullness of her gown allowed one long leg to slip up and wrap around behind him as she rubbed herself against his ready cock. Her eyes, sparkling though they were with passion, couldn't quite hide the sadness beneath. "Don't think, Thomas. Shut up and fuck me."

  "Are you all right? You have the strangest look on your face."

  Rick shook his head a little, shifting between the woman in front of him now and memory of the one he had just seen in his head. Who was she? It was like putting on a coat that didn't quite fit, only to realize you had picked up someone else's garment. Only in this case, he had picked up someone else's memory.

  Too bad his dick didn't know the difference, though. Reliving that moment in someone else's life -- and Rick knew somehow that was what it was -- left him as turned on and ready for action as that other man had been. Which might not have been a problem if he had found himself alone in a deserted house with a woman he wasn't already hot for. But right now he was hotter than he could remember being since Danielle Leeuwendyk had gone down on him in the girls' bathroom his junior year in high school.

  "Cat, let down your hair for me."

  Why had he whispered? And how did he know to call her by a shortened version of her name, for that matter? Rick didn't know how he knew. He just did. His voice felt rusty -- unused -- and the pet name just felt right.

  Catherine's hand lifted and Rick didn't know whether it was to obey, or to give him that smack upside the head he'd wanted earlier. But when her arm bent and her hand reached for the plastic claw holding her hair, he let out a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding. Then she shook her head softly and about a mile of black silk tumbled down her back. Rick nearly went off in his jeans.

  Mother of God, how he'd missed that. Seeing the welcoming look in her eyes, he couldn't wait another second to hold her again. He reached for her and she didn't deny him. He took her mouth in a kiss and she was kissing him back. He could still tell her taste apart from every other woman on earth -- it started smooth like vanilla but finished with a kick like pure Irish whiskey. Cat, his sweet, fiery Cat.

  "Put your arms around my neck," Rick growled, breaking the kiss. He put his hands under that perfect ass and hoisted her up, her legs wrapping naturally around his waist. Every step was torture as the heat of her pussy ground down on his engorged cock. He didn't intend to give her the picture frame treatment -- nail her to the wall -- when there was a perfectly good horizontal surface in the next room. He had just enough brain cells still functioning to appreciate the irony of taking her down against the very bar they had sparred over.

  Rick laid Catherine down atop the length of dusty oak, taking care to cushion her head with his hand. He paused just a moment to appreciate the visual feast she presented with her dark hair fanned out wildly around her head, skirt hiked up around her thighs, legs sprawled, although still wearing those wicked high heels. He felt like throwing back his head in a roar of triumph.

  "Last chance, darlin'. If you don't want this, say so now, because I can't wait another second to be inside you. And once I get there, I plan to stick around a while."

  The look she gave him was a little dazed, her voice breathless. "Then what are you waiting for? Because I can't wait either." And with that, the last of his brain's blood supply fled south.

  * * * * *

  What people are saying about

  Sierra Secrets: Dead Man’s Party

  Dead Man’s Party is a hot, sexy read with some very erotic twists that comes highly recommended. I would really like to see Rick’s brother Steve have his own story. Ms. Vaughan, thank you for a wonderful read.

  -- Pam L., A Romance Review

  Although short, Dead Man’s Party delivers enough background and plot to make it a treat to read… Dead Man’s Party is an enjoyable, blistering-hot tale for readers wanting a modern story with a paranormal twist.

  -- Patti Fischer, Romance Reviews Today