by Lola Dodge
“You’re not focusing.”
“I am. I’ve been aiming for that middle tree each try.”
“I’m not talking about outward focus.” He moved behind her. “It’s as much about the mental as physical. To properly handle your energy, you first need to understand it. Connect with it.” His warm, calloused palms glided along her arms, positioning them in a straight horizontal line. “This is the best way to ground yourself. The energy resides as much within your environment as it does inside you.” His fingertips grazed the sensitive undersides of her forearms, causing her to shiver in pleasure. “Do you feel the build-up starting?”
A sharp tingle shuttled through her clitoris. Oh yeah. She was definitely feeling something. Probably not what he’d been referring to though. “I—I’m not sure.”
Teague pressed into her, the firm, muscular planes of his chest and abdomen contouring to her back like the delicious, masculine version of memory foam. “How about now? Feeling anything?”
She gulped, not entirely certain he wasn’t referring to the thick bulge of his erection prodding the base of her spine. “Err…possibly.”
“Good.” His hands coasted along her upper arms and over her shoulders. He continued following the slope of her neck, his fingers a maddening butterfly dance along her overheated skin. She shook as he traced the shell of her ears before combing his fingers through her hair, sifting the strands over her shoulders. His deep inhalation stirred the fine hairs at her temple, and she closed her eyes on a shaky breath.
“Do you feel it, Ruby?” His hands retraced their path, this time moving beneath her arms. “Do you feel our energy weaving?”
Oh my God. She did. Teague’s power was a sensual caress along her synapses. It licked at her own energy, engaging it in an erotic tango that felt…like sex. She bit her lip to stifle a moan. Teague’s bold hands roved inward, and her eyes snapped open as they closed over her breasts. A blast of energy showered from her, acting as a turbo boost to the discharged bolt. It slammed into the center tree across from them, sheering it in half.
Unable to believe her own eyes, she released an excited whoop of joy. It took a moment to realize that Teague was no longer touching her. Disappointment smothered her brief happiness. Pivoting, she met his guarded expression. Painfully aware of the tight ache in her nipples, she hugged her torso. “You stopped.”
“It was the end of our first lesson.”
She frowned. “That was a lesson?”
“Our energy often brings with it a sexual charge for us. Tap into that essence, and it can trigger a power surge similar to a climax.”
Her cheeks heated. “I thought you were touching me because you wanted me.”
A dark intensity entered Teague’s eyes. “I want to fuck you so badly, my balls are blue. But giving in to that urge would be stupid.”
Heaviness sat like an elephant on her chest. “Why?”
“We’re as different as two people can get, Ruby. You want to save the world, and I just want revenge and to save my own ass. You’re better off without me.”
“Don’t I get a say in this decision?”
“No. One of us has to keep some damn sense.” His jaw locked into a rigid line, Teague strode past her and headed to the copse of trees.
She stared at his retreating back, the ache in her heart increasing with each step he took away from her. He should be the last person on Earth capable of tying her emotions into a tangle of messy knots. He was absolutely right about them being wrong for each other. The smartest thing she could do right now was walk away.
Her legs wobbly, she started across the dusty plain, her unwavering sight set on Teague. She reached the ring of trees, and he turned to face her, his mouth a grim line. “Ruby—”
Planting her palms squarely in the center of his broad chest, she shoved him against the trunk of the nearest oak. “You said what you had to say. Now it’s my turn.” Before he could interrupt or argue, she stood on tiptoe and caught his bottom lip between her teeth. A harsh breath rattled from his lungs, and she slid her hand behind his neck. The next second, the lush, wet heat of his tongue thrust inside her mouth as he grasped her ass and hauled her up against him. Locking one leg around his waist, she rubbed against his thickening erection and whimpered.
Re-angling his mouth for a deeper, hungrier kiss, he swung her around until her back was the one pushed against the rough bark of the tree. Gripping her thigh higher, he ground his pelvis into hers. The friction tore a moan from her throat. Scraping his teeth along her jawbone, Teague slid a hot, open-mouthed kiss toward the sensitive crook of her neck.
Her insides melting, she shivered. She wanted nothing more desperately than to feel the thick, hard length of his cock slide deep in her core, filling the emptiness and banishing her ever-present worries for a blissful moment. “Please, make love to me.”
A tremor racked Teague’s body. She sensed the tension in him. The struggle for his control. She gyrated her hips, earning his rasping groan. “Damn it, Ruby. I’m not fucking you against this tree.”
She pulled him in for another devouring kiss and gloried in the lusty moan that rumbled through his chest. His hand slipped between them and fumbled with her zipper. An instant later his palm was cupping her mound and two fingers were buried in her pussy. She gasped at the unexpected stretch. “That isn’t what I want.”
Ignoring her, he pumped his fingers and ghosted his thumb over her clit. She sank her nails into his rock-hard biceps and fought for breath. “N-not this way.”
He increased the pressure on her inner walls, hitting the sweet spot that brought stars dancing in her vision. She bowed her back, trying to stave off the approaching climax. His gaze hot with determination, Teague hooked his fingers, his aim precise and devastating.
She could resist this bad boy…if he wasn’t so darned good at it.
Superlovin’
© 2012 Vivi Andrews
A Midnight Justice Story
Darla Powers, a.k.a. DynaGirl, is the Jessica Rabbit of crime fighters, but that doesn’t mean it’s easy finding a date. When her latest ex opines she’s not helpless enough to make him feel manly, she flies off to take out her romantic frustrations on a villain dumb enough to pick tonight to break into a secret government vault.
Lucien Wroth’s father may be a famous supervillain, but Lucien doesn’t see himself as a bad guy. Just one determined to free his baby sister from a supercriminal’s clutches. He’s this close to getting his hands on a vital set of schematics when one sultry superheroine catches him elbow-deep in a top-secret safe.
Darla is horrified when Lucien’s pretty face—and bulging muscles—distract her enough to let him get away. No one escapes DynaGirl. But somewhere along the way to getting revenge for her public humiliation, she and Lucien become uneasy allies…resisting an all-too-easy attraction. Suddenly she suspects the perfect man for a good girl just might be a very bad boy.
Warning: This book contains heroes, villains, mind-games, epic battles, bustiers, leather, and an infamous “Women of the Cape” Maxim photo spread.
Enjoy the following excerpt for Superlovin’:
“You’ll never…escape,” she declared breathlessly, looking rather adorably determined laid out flat on the cement with rubble in her hair.
He would’ve laughed if he could spare the oxygen. “You don’t know how to…admit defeat, do you?” He couldn’t help but admire her tenacity. Deluded though it may be.
“What makes you…think I’m…defeated?”
“The inability to get a full sentence out without gulping for air is a tell, sweetheart,” he grunted, barely getting the sentence out himself without taking a gulp.
“I’d like to see you fly across the city twice in an hour, one of those times carrying a two-ton delinquent.”
He arched a brow. “I’m a big boy, but I’m not quite that big, princess.”
Her eyes narrowed at the suggestive lilt in his voice, pretty mouth pursing. “I was talking about the weigh
t of your ego.”
“Then you must be constantly exhausted. How do you manage to lift yours, even with the superstrength?”
She made a face at him. The darling of the press, always poised and perfect, crossed her eyes and stuck out her tongue at him. Which, perversely, just made him want to kiss her.
Not a bad idea, actually.
He needed something to distract her at the right moment, and nothing was likely to unsettle the Powers Princess more than one of the unwashed masses daring to lay his lips on her. And, yeah, he was a guy, so he’d pretty much wanted to lay one on her since she’d posed for Maxim’s Women of the Cape issue. He’d dreamt about that magazine—dark, steamy, grinding, Technicolor dreams with Miss Goody Two Shoes as their very naughty star. Those pillowy lips were an open invitation, far too wicked for someone so sanctimoniously pure.
Sadly, DynaGirl didn’t seem to be in the mood to play.
“What did you take?” she demanded. The very proper Miss Powers was like a freaking terrier when she set her mind to something. She shoved hard on his shoulder, rolling them over so she knelt straddling his stomach. He let her be on top. For now. Her gaze flicked down his body, searching for a spot he could’ve stashed the papers. “What did you go back for?”
Lucien kept half an ear out for the sound of the next train and conjured up a lazy grin. He let his gaze linger on the way the dark, stretchy fabric of her supersuit cupped the curve of her breasts. “Would you like to frisk me? Cuz I know I’d like it.”
“Knock it off. You’re caught. Give it up.”
“I’m caught, am I? How are you planning to get me back to that lovely holding cell? Flying didn’t work out so well for you last time.”
She reached to the belt on her hip, pulled out a phone, swiped a thumb across the touchpad without looking and held it up to her ear with a smugly triumphant smirk. A smirk which faded as she pulled it away from her ear to glare at the uncooperative device.
“No service?” he purred.
Thank God for the crappy reception of subway tunnels. His abilities were too far blown to handle the cavalry right now.
“I’ll fly you there if I have to,” DynaGirl declared, but the first waver of doubt edged her tone.
Supers could do superhuman things—hence the name—but there was only so far they could push themselves before they crashed with a power hangover that would bring the gods to their knees. Lucien was inches from his own breaking point and, from the tremor in her voice, it sounded like his tenacious little sex kitten of a nemesis was right there with him.
Which meant she was vulnerable. He just needed one more sprint. He could last a few more seconds before his brain exploded into white-hot agony. He had to. For Mirabelle.
He heard the distant electrical whine of a train coming down the tracks. Three minutes, give or take…
Lucien let the icy-hot pain starting to spike in his temples show on his face. “I could come quietly,” he said, making his voice tight with strain. “For a price.”
“I don’t negotiate with supervillains.”
“Not even for my surrender? My complete surrender.”
Interest lit her up-tilted emerald eyes, but her jaw remained clenched in an unyielding line. “No deals. I won’t bribe you to play nice when you’ve already lost.”
“But all I wanted was a kiss.”
She went motionless above him, as if she’d forgotten the need to breathe.
“One little kiss,” he purred. “And I’ll go meekly to my jail cell. No tricks. No trouble.”
He couldn’t read her expression. Something odd and almost hopeful colored the suspicion in her gaze. She hesitated. The train rattled closer. Her fingers eased their death grip on his hair.
“Why?”
“Are you kidding? I’ve always wanted a shot at the great Darla Powers. Who hasn’t? That Maxim spread changed my life.”
Her eyes darkened. “That damn magazine—”
“Hey, don’t damn that magazine. I could compose sonnets to that magazine. Especially your issue. I think you single-handedly launched a generation of twelve-year-old boys into puberty with that spread.” The picture had become a cultural icon. Darla Powers, the super answer to Marilyn Monroe. “Tell me you still have the bustier and I’ll die happy.”
She blushed. “That is none of your business.”
Dear God, she still has it. Unwholesome interest stirred below Lucien’s belt. He’d been joking, but now he couldn’t get the image out of his head. Her incredible figure overflowing the snug black lace with a shimmering red D curled under one breast in a parody of her suit. Maybe she still wore it. Maybe she put it on for the schmuck boyfriend who’d let her walk out on their date. Jealousy gave his gut an ugly twist, but he ignored it. She wasn’t with her schmuck boyfriend now.
“One kiss,” he said, the words coming out as more of a demand than he’d intended, his voice so dark and hungry he barely recognized it. “One kiss and I’ll do whatever you want.”
The words were supposed to be a lie, but at the moment he almost believed them himself. Darla Powers was a woman who could own a man’s soul if she put her mind to it. If she could let herself be that bad…
She leaned over him, and he sank his hand into the curls at the base of her skull. “C’mon, princess,” he coaxed, his gaze locked on her pillowy lips. “Even good girls get to be bad sometimes.”
She went rigid in his arms. “No. We don’t.”
The train was nearly there now. Ten seconds… Darla began to resist his hold, but Lucien had run out of time for persuasion. Now or never.
He sat up and twisted abruptly, using a pulse of superspeed to get her sprawled on her back before she realized negotiations were over. He caught her startled gasp on his lips.
The kiss was a sneak attack—quick and fierce and designed to startle and unsettle her. It wasn’t supposed to sear across his nerve endings with unexpected heat. He wasn’t supposed to be tempted to fall into the taste of her and abandon his will to fight. Soft, warm, luscious—the definition of a dangerous woman.
Her hands fell away from his hair, shoving at his shoulders without any real strength as she made the most deliciously wanton noise in her throat.
In a different world, he would stay here and finish what they’d started, explore this incendiary chemistry, coax that sound from her again and again. But she was still a hero and he’d long since been cast in the villain role. If he wanted any future for his sister, he couldn’t waste time playing doctor with DynaGirl.
The first train car thundered into the abandoned station.
He threw himself off her. “Sorry, princess.” The last of his reserves went into a surge of superspeed as he leapt onto the tracks and sprinted down the tunnel in front of the engine. The racing train sealed the tunnel entrance behind him before DynaGirl could gather herself to follow.
He didn’t have time to thrill at the victory of escape. He was too busy trying to maintain his speed until he reached the next platform so he didn’t end up a bloody smear on the tracks.
Lucien ran, his head slowly exploding, the stolen papers crinkling in his pocket with the sound of success, Darla’s taste still sweet on his lips.
Fight alone, die alone.
Heroes Without, Monsters Within
© 2012 Sheryl Nantus
Blaze of Glory, Book 2
In the weeks since Jo “Surf” Tanis and her rough-and-tumble band of super-powered actors broke free of the government-sponsored superhero show, they’re all still dealing with the aftershock of adjusting to this thing called reality.
It doesn’t get much more real than a mission to dig survivors out of what’s left of Erie, PA after a mysterious earthquake. A trembler that powerful is as out of place as Jo feels as the de-facto leader of the troupe. Not to mention the soul-shaking feelings she has for Hunter, a team member whose past as an Agency Guardian casts a heavy shadow over any possible relationship.
It seems one of the supers, an earth-warper named
Ground Pounder, has gone rogue, using his freedom from the Agency’s brand of virtual slavery to put the “villain” back in supervillain. Failure to find him before any more innocent bystanders are hurt means the team could be back under the Agency’s thumb.
It’s a burden that doesn’t rest easy on Jo’s shoulders...especially when the man who’s invaded her heart is caught in the crossfire.
Warning: Contains kick-ass super women, super men and a budding romance ready to go into orbit. Also, gambling and Las Vegas buffets!
Enjoy the following excerpt for Heroes Without, Monsters Within:
“Steve,” I yelled. “Protect the civilians.” I stayed in the air, not daring to let my feet touch the ground. Something was wrong with this attack. This was beyond what Lamarr could do. I just had to survive long enough to figure out what was going on.
“Yes, civilians.” Lamarr chortled. “Can’t let the little people get hurt now, can we?” He looked to one side and flicked his fingers. One of the large steel towers holding up part of the mammoth canopy overhead shifted, the bricks around the bottom of the support bursting like popped balloons.
“Son of a bitch.” I fired off double bolts from my hand as I charged the punk, alternating my shots. One electric bolt shattered the ground just in front of Lamarr, forcing him to stand up and retreat a step.
Steve leapt to his left, landing at the base of the support tower. He wrapped his mammoth arms around it and let out a rumbling groan as he embraced the tilting steel. The silver veins on his arms stretched and twisted, flowing over his skin with the neon lights bouncing off them.
A shout went out, a series of yelps. No, howls. I looked to my left to see a pack of mangy sandy-colored coyotes charging towards Lamarr, their yellowed teeth bared. They leapt up as I laid down another series of blasts, trying to cut off any retreat for the super without shooting the animals. Just one hit would affect him like a taser, short-circuiting his body and dropping the little bastard like a stone.
