Sanctuary Lost
Page 19
One scorching lesson in seduction…
Teacher’s Guide to Wildlife
© 2009 Kaye Sykes
Finally free of her stalker ex-husband, Faith Cahill has a lot to celebrate. It doesn’t take much prodding from her best friend to throw caution to the wind and kiss a perfect stranger. And Dean is perfect, indeed: darkly handsome, tattooed, wicked smile, talented with his hands—and he cooks!
The last thing she needs is to get involved again, especially with a guy who’s hiding something. Despite her vow to avoid him, though, her resolve is shredded every time he crosses her path.
One night with Faith leaves Dean hungry for more, and he senses the feeling is mutual. His instincts tell him Faith won’t be satisfied until she’s unearthed all his secrets. He’d like nothing more than to reveal every last part of himself to her. The question isn’t whether she can handle it. The question is, once she knows everything, will she back away and return to a normal existence.
Or join him in a fight against the evil that threatens their small New England town—and their newfound passion.
Warning: This book contains searing sex, violence, an ex who gets what’s coming to him, chick fights, inappropriate gifting of dog biscuits, and a ménage a trois.
Enjoy the following excerpt for Teacher’s Guide to Wildlife:
The October night air felt cool compared to the temperature of the bar. She lifted the hair off her neck to catch the slight breeze. She happened to glance at Dean and saw him watching her. He caught himself and pointed toward the back of the parking lot. “I’m over there.”
They walked in silence until Faith couldn’t stand the deception anymore. “I live really close by. You don’t need to drive me. In fact, it’d be ridiculous if you did.”
“I can walk you home.” By now, he’d stopped at a muscle car parked by the rear of the restaurant. Mom had always warned her about taking rides from strangers. Especially strangers with fancy cars who cooked for her and made her want to tear off their clothes at first glance. On the other hand, her mother had liked Craig.
“You don’t need to.” He was harmless, but Faith didn’t want him to know where she lived yet. If she let him walk her home, she’d invite him in. If she invited him in, she’d sleep with him. No doubt about it. If she stayed here, her underwear would stay on.
“Suit yourself.” He leaned against the side of the car and waited.
This moment was her moment to act, but she was too nervous to do anything except talk. “Thanks for the food. I might ask you to cook for me again.”
“You know where I work.” The moonlight on the tar brightened as the cloud cover passed over. Dean directed his gaze upward and his exposed neck tempted Faith’s newly surfaced predator. She closed the distance between them and brought her lips to his neck. He smelled of food and man, a spiciness that begged to be tasted. Her tongue licked his skin and the flavor of him was even better than his scent. A sigh breathed in her ear and his arms were around her, pulling her against his hard form. The motion increased her hunger.
She devoured his neck, savoring the salty sweetness of his flesh. When she reached his lips, he growled in the back of his throat and opened his mouth. Her tongue intertwined with his, twisting and stroking inside him. The kiss generated a charge that brought every cell in her body to attention. While thought was available, she knew she didn’t want to break contact, wanted to keep delving with her tongue. Then thinking was gone, replaced by the physical.
Her hands slipped across his shoulders and down, tracing the muscles of his arms before sliding to his chest. She pushed up his shirt, running her fingers through his soft hair and her nails across his nipples. She skimmed his ribs and lightly touched his flat stomach. His intake of breath rose beneath her kiss.
His hands slid down her ass and pressed her against him. She could feel his hardness on her stomach. The sign of his desire split her mind into the one part that didn’t allow one-night stands and the other that wanted him. Choosing a side, her hand didn’t hesitate at the barrier of his waistband and brushed over the curls of his hair, grasping the length of him before she could lose her nerve or talk herself into stopping. His erection thickened in her hand and she stroked him, the entire length of his cock, drawing his moans into her mouth.
He ended the kiss and stared into her eyes. “I want to be inside you.”
Her hand pumped him faster. “You want me?” The murmured words, unfamiliar yet right at home in her mouth, made her want to take him home and let him obliterate any trace of insecurity or control inside her. Caution asserted itself. Out of the question. He wasn’t going to her house. She’d give him hand job in return for that molten kiss and be on her merry way.
“My car’s more comfortable.” His fingers dug into her shoulders and his breath quickened. She took this as a sign he was close. She didn’t alter her stroke, concentrating on the smoothness of his skin and ignoring the need in the center of her, a pressure building and pleading to be released. He whispered her name in her ear, a small sound that betrayed his want.
“We’ll stay out here.” Control was the game. She could derive pleasure from his enjoyment without giving more of herself. As it was, her body begged to be taken. She wanted to climb in the backseat and ride him until she was sore. The whole of her swayed in that direction before she gave herself a mental slap.
Dean didn’t cooperate. As if understanding her tactics, he grabbed her hand mid-stroke and brought it behind her back. In a quick move, he reversed their positions, pinning her against the side of his car. He freed her hand but she couldn’t move beneath his weight. Her control flew away on wings of panic and her body went rigid. The powerlessness of her situation beat against her chest. “Don’t hurt me.”
Bracing his arms on the car, he lifted his body off her, still in contact but no longer pinning her. The lights of the moon and parking lot revealed the concern in his eyes and expression. “Never.”
His lips were feather soft, tracing the line of her chin and neck. Her body relaxed and the blood in her veins slowed. His tongue took the place of his lips and drew a line from the base of her neck to her shoulder. “You taste so sweet.”
Using only his mouth, he caressed her shoulder, licking the curve of her neckline. Entranced by his kisses, she didn’t notice her unbuttoned sweater until he pushed aside the silk of her camisole and exposed her breast. His thumb circled her nipple bringing it to aching attention before his mouth found it. He sucked on the piece of flesh and she encircled his head with her arms, pushing her breast into his mouth, urging him to suck harder. He closed his teeth, biting her hardened nipple while his hand curved around her other breast, gently squeezing that nipple between his thumb and forefinger.
Alternating between her breasts and never breaking the contact between mouth and skin, he pushed her camisole over her chest. She rolled her head against the car window, letting him expose her to the moon. Her legs spread open for balance, she looked down and the center of her clenched at the sight of his mouth on her.
When he drew his mouth away to kiss her, the air breathed cold on her swollen flesh. His hand burned on her thigh and blazed a trail that ended with him cupping her. His fingers caressed her over the material of her stockings and underwear. When he raised her skirt to slip his hand beneath the fabric, the jolt of his touch against her pubic hair, then against her lips, brought a moan out of her. He deepened the kiss, his tongue in her mouth as his fingers slid inside her. She arched to his hand, needing him. Two fingers stroked her passage and around the center of her, teasing in a circle before brushing her clit. The motion of his hand sped up and her nails dug into his shoulders. She rode his touch—seeking satisfaction, clasping his fingers with urgent muscles and begging him in a whisper to keep touching her.
He withdrew his hand and disappointment threatened to overtake desire. Her frustration made her hiss and open her eyes. He smiled at her and put his wet fingers in his mouth. “I want to taste you, all of you.”
Howling for My Baby
© 2009 Beverly Rae
Sydney Skeller’s father is spitting bullets over her reluctance to join the family business as a shifter hunter. The last thing Daddy needs to know is why—she yearns for a lover who’s man enough for a relationship but animal enough to give her the wild ride of her dreams. After a treadmill mishap lands her in a tangled heap with Jason Cannon, she wonders if she’s finally found her beast, er, man. One session in bed and one bite later, she’s sure. Now if only she can keep her father from mounting Jason’s head on a wall…
Jason is all man on the surface, but wolf shifter down to the bone. He’s more than ready to stop “playing the pack” and find his one true mate, and Sydney of the luscious curves is the woman of his dreams. Finding out that she comes from a family sworn to eradicate his kind isn’t a deal-breaker. But her outrageous plan for him to masquerade as the wolf in hunter’s clothing, right under her father’s very nose, could be asking more than he ever expected to give.
Warning: Readers, be aware of stranger side effects. These side effects may include but aren’t limited to biting strangers, asking furry strangers to bite you, purposely falling off treadmills to collide with handsome strangers, enjoying hot sex with wild strangers, and baying at the moon to meet other moon-influenced strangers. If you notice any of these side effects, contact the author immediately. You may be in her next book!
Enjoy the following excerpt for Howling for My Baby:
Benjy whipped out a cosmetic mirror and checked his reflection. “Jason, dog, what’s up with you? You’ve been in a foul mood all day.”
Jason groaned every time he thought about last night. The girl he’d hooked up with had barfed all over his bed. He’d cleaned her up and gotten her home safe and sound, but the bar thing was getting old. Besides, he was fed up with those when-will-you-stop-bringing-home-a-bimbo scowls from the maid. Maybe he should sell his condo and retire to his pack home in the mountains—with or without a mate.
Not for the first time, he wondered what it would be like to have a permanent woman, his destined mate, in his life. The one who could talk to him, laugh with him—and give him a wild ride in bed. He let his mind wander to the curly-headed woman of his dreams and knew with absolute certainty he’d recognize her when they met. But with the pack’s personal fitness business finally taking off, who had the time to search for Ms. Right?
“When are you going to admit you prefer me over some miniskirt-wearing, silicone-injected bitch?” Benjy sidled closer.
Jason shoved him away. Annoyed when two men coming out of the gym snickered, he gagged on his coffee. “Damn it, man, if you weren’t the best accountant the pack has, I’d wrap a choke collar around your neck so tight you’d have to breathe through your ass.”
“Oooh, goody.” Benjy ran his eyes down his frame. “You like it rough, huh, Jay-Jay?”
“I promise you, you shit, if you don’t at least try to act normal, I’m going to tear your heart out.”
“Gay is normal, you politically incorrect beast.”
“Yeah, you’re right. Idiot here.” Yet when Benjy tried to hug him in a gesture of forgiveness, he jumped out of reach. “But you know what I mean. And don’t call me Jay-Jay.”
“What you mean is…you want me to act like a straight man, right? Okay, if that’s what my hunky macho leader wants, that’s what my hunky macho leader gets.” Benjy pulled his tangerine polo shirt out of his perfectly ironed khakis, ruffled his hair, and slouched. Shoving his thumbs into his pockets, he sauntered ahead of Jason and deepened his voice. “How’s this, dude?”
Jason laughed and followed his friend through the automatic sliding doors of the gym. “You’re acting like John Wayne on hormone replacement therapy. Yet, as sad as your act is, it’s still an improvement. Keep it up.”
“Urgh, you beast.” Benjy rolled his eyes, returned to his usual perfectly put-together self and let Jason lead the way to the office. They quickly located the gym’s newest manager.
“Steve Wilson? I’m Jason Cannon and this is Benjy Boudoir. Welcome to the company. I believe the previous manager, Rob Manger, told you we’d be stopping by?”
“Yes, sir, Mr. Manger told me.” Steve offered his hand to first Jason, then Benjy. “I’m very happy to be one of the team.”
After shaking hands, they followed Steve into the office.
Steve took a seat in front of a computer resting on a mahogany desk and pulled up the gym’s financial records. “Before he left, Mr. Manger filled me in on what reports you’d need. I compiled everything into this software for easier viewing.” Spinning around to face them, he frowned, the lines furrowing his forehead making the twenty-five year-old appear ten years older. “I keep an excellent record of all transactions.”
Jason patted him on the shoulder, both to reassure him and to nudge him out of the chair. He motioned to Benjy to take his place. “I’m sure you do. This is simply a routine check and nothing for you to worry about.”
Benjy’s fingers flew over the keyboard. “Now if you two will excuse me, I’ll put on my accountant’s hat and play with some numbers. Although I’d much rather play with somebody else’s numbers.” He winked at Steve, causing the young man to stumble sideways in his haste to put distance between them.
“Uh, would you like to look around while Mr. Boudoir goes over the records?” Steve moved toward the door, ready, willing and obviously anxious to get away from Benjy.
Jason gestured for Steve to exit first. “Lead the way.” He followed the eager manager around the outskirts of the workout area, letting him drone on about the new equipment. But his mind couldn’t concentrate on the young man’s words. Instead, his thoughts kept drifting to last night’s dream. Clearer than ever before, he’d seen a picture-perfect image of the woman with brown hair with red highlights. What’s more, he’d heard her howl—hearing the call within his heart along with his dream, and he knew what it meant. His mate was close.
“Sir, we’re coming around to the treadmill area. We’ve added several rows of treadmills because those are our most popular machines. They’re the best in the industry with programmable settings…”
Jason stopped behind one of the whirring machines, missing the rest of the manager’s description. A woman clad in black bike shorts and a neon pink workout top ran on the belt, her short curly hair glinting copper fire from the bright lights above her. He tilted his head to one side and examined the full roundness of her bottom. Now there’s a target any man would want to aim his shaft at. I do like the junk in her trunk.
Suddenly, she twisted toward him and their gazes met and held. Her mouth dropped open in surprise.
“Hey, sweetheart, you’d better watch out—”
Her big beautiful eyes grew large and she let out a yelp. In one awkward motion, her feet flew out from under her and she crashed on her side on the still-moving belt. She slid with the conveyor, headed quickly toward the end, and slammed into his legs.
“Argh!” Jason went down hard, landing on top of the woman, whose upper torso bumped up and down with the off-center glide of the belt. Yet, even though she pushed on his chest to get him off her, he couldn’t help but enjoy the soft pressure of her breasts against him.
“Ow! This thing’s got me!”
The panic on her face erased the lust-filled ideas spreading through his body and mind. Gripping her bra-like top, he pulled her off the treadmill. Or at least he attempted to. Trying to ignore the spectacular view of her ample cleavage, he peeked behind her. “Shit. The back of your top’s caught in the mechanism.” He looked around to see where the young manager was. “Steve, don’t just stand there. Turn this thing off.”
Steve scrambled past them to the control panel and pushed the red emergency button. Amazingly, the treadmill continued to run. “I can’t get it to stop. Hang on while I get in front and pull the plug.”
“Hurry! It hurts!”
Frightened eyes captured Jason and he could think of only one thing to do. Shifting enough to change his fingernails into claws, he punctured through the fabric of her workout top and pulled. The garment ripped, tearing away from her body, and the woman screamed louder. Freed from the monster machine, Jason and the woman scrambled apart. She clutched her arms in front of her generous breasts while he tried not to gawk in wonder. Stare, hell, yes—but not gawk.
“Are you crazy?”
She stood, arms crossed, protecting precious little of her chest—How lucky can a man get?—and glared at the crowd surrounding them. Several men whistled and hooted, bumping against each other for a better view of the half-naked woman.
“Why are you yelling at me? I helped you, remember?” He licked his lips and tried to keep his focus on her face. Her mouth worked, searching for the right words and giving him time to notice the fullness of her lips.
“Give me your shirt, you jerk.” She widened her eyes more, indicating the people around them. “Right now.”
Quickly, he whipped off his denim shirt and held it out to her, silently chastising himself for not thinking of it first. Holding it open, he held it in front of her, hoping to shield her from not only his wandering eyes, but the rest of the club’s patrons. She inched closer to grab the shirt. With a final scowl at him, she dashed for the locker rooms.
“I got it!”
Jason turned to Steve, who stood holding the power cord high like an Olympic gold medal. At last, the treadmill ground to a stop. “Great, man. Good work.” The memory of luscious breasts tickled his mind, yet he couldn’t let go of the sight of her angry eyes.
Turning to stare after her, he knew he’d found his mate.
Samhain Publishing, Ltd.
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