by Cat Johnson
Enjoy the following excerpt for Bucked:
Rosemary used to sneak boys into her room after their grandmother had gone to sleep all the time. Sage tried to remember that as she felt guilty about plotting on how best to seduce Mustang under her grandmother’s roof.
She remembered the purpose of his visit and turned on her own TV, grabbing the remote control off the top and carrying it back to the bed. She perched on the other side of the bed, but since it was a twin-size they were still pretty close. For the first time in recent years she was happy the mattress was so narrow.
Finding the right channel, she turned the volume up just enough that they could hear it and set the remote on the bed table. “It looks like it just started.”
“Yup.”
He was in a strange mood. “You look tired.”
“A little.” Mustang shrugged. “Long day.”
Sage jumped on the chance. “Yeah? What did you do?”
“Work.”
Hmm. A one-word answer. It must have been a really bad day. Sage groaned in commiseration. “You have a bad drive with your dad?”
“No. Different work.” His short answers told her he didn’t want to talk about it.
“Oh. Okay.” Sage folded her hands in her lap and pretended to care about what was happening on screen.
She heard Mustang sigh and then his arm was around her shoulder. Luckily, he’d sat on the side that put the good arm, the one not in the sling, next to her.
Sage glanced sideways at Mustang and he answered her unspoken question. “I think I could use a hug.”
Mustang Jackson, the mighty bull rider, asking for a hug. Even in the old days when his father had taken a switch to him for something he’d done, or possibly hadn’t done, he’d never asked anyone for a hug. Not Rosemary or Grams or her. Something was definitely up. Her gaze met his.
“Lucky for you, I’m good at giving hugs.”
Still looking sad, he managed a crooked, half-smile. “I know.”
As she leaned into his arm, he tipped his head down, brushing her forehead with his lips. Tilting her head up, she touched her lips to his chin, then kissed her way to the corner of his mouth. Mustang hesitated but it didn’t take any more coaxing before his lips met hers full-on.
In mid-kiss, he pulled away. “Your grandmother.”
“She’s settled in front of her programs. We won’t see her for the rest of the night.”
He drew in a deep breath and then he was kissing her again. This time deeper and with more energy. He didn’t seem tired anymore. Mustang only stopped kissing her long enough to slip the sling off his neck. His hand came up to cup her breast. He ran a thumb over her nipple through the fabric of her dress. She felt it harden under his touch.
She groaned then broke away. “Is your arm okay?”
“Arm? What arm?” He lowered his head to trail kisses along her neck.
He pushed the top of her dress down with her bra and took her nipple between his lips, torturing her with his teeth and tongue.
Eyes closed, Sage leaned back against the pillows, memorizing every sensation that shot through her. His mouth sent electrical current straight through every part of her body. She wanted more.
Sage guided her hand on a path up Mustang’s thigh toward the long, hard bulge straining the zipper. She’d tasted him, felt what it was like to have the length of him in her mouth. She wanted it elsewhere.
She stroked him through his jeans and he moaned, letting her breast pop out of his mouth.
“We’re not going any further than this.” The warning sounded stern and definite, until she stroked him again, harder. He closed his eyes and drew in a shaky breath. “You are going to be the death of me, woman.”
“Mmm, but it will be a fun way to go.” Smiling, Sage took advantage of his weakening defenses. She felt for the tab of his zipper until his hand clamped down over hers.
“You are a determined little thing, aren’t you?” He chuckled.
It was nice to hear him laugh, even if he wasn’t letting her have her way. Maybe the subtle approach didn’t work on Mustang. Steeling her nerves, Sage gathered her courage. “I want you.”
“I want you too, Sage, but we can’t always have what we want.”
She tried to move her hand to touch him again, but he held her firmly.
“Why won’t you make love to me?”
He laughed. “Besides the fact your grandmother is in the next room?”
Sage felt the pout form on her lips. “But even at the lake you wouldn’t.”
Mustang drew in a deep breath. “I told you. I’m no good for you.”
“I don’t care.”
He brought her hand to his lips and kissed it. “I know you don’t and I’m a bad enough man to take advantage of that.”
She scowled. “You haven’t taken advantage of me.” Not nearly as much as she would have liked him to.
“Yeah, I have. I’ve selfishly convinced myself that what we’re doing is okay as long as that’s as far as it goes.”
“Ah. The Bill-Clinton definition of sexual relations. As long as it’s not actual intercourse it doesn’t count.” She let out a snort as she finally understood Mustang’s plan and his reluctance to have sex with her.
He laughed. “Yeah, I guess something like that.”
Sage shook her head. “I hate to tell you, Mustang, but just because we haven’t, you know, doesn’t mean what we’ve done isn’t sex.”
The expression on his face grew serious.
“You’re right.” Mustang pulled his arm from around her shoulders. “That’s why we have to stop doing anything at all.”
Oh, no. That wasn’t the result she had been looking for. “What? No. That’s why we should just go for it and go all the way.”
“No.” Mustang shook his head.
“You can’t put the spilled milk back in the carton, Mustang. We’ve already done a whole bunch of things. Stopping now won’t change what happened.” She folded her arms and frowned.
He laughed, tapping her lips with his fingertip.
“You are adorable when you pout.” He sighed. “But you’re right about the milk. We sure have spilt a whole bunch. How about we just go back to doing what we were before?”
“Okay. For now.”
Hoping he was referring to the kissing and orgasms and not watching television, she inched her hand up his thigh. Laughing, he pulled her close again with one arm around her shoulder. “I can feel your hand on my zipper again, Little Bit. I told you no.”
He’d caught her red-handed. “But we’ve already done that, so it’s allowed.”
Mustang lowered his voice. “Even so, I’m not going to sit here in your bedroom with my dick out and your grandmother in the living room.”
“Fine. Be that way.” Sage crossed her arms again.
Laughing, Mustang’s hand moved down and began a journey up the inside of her bare leg. “Maybe I could make it up to you in some way.”
“Maybe.” She continued to scowl, but moved her legs wider as he dipped his finger beneath the edge of her panties. He moved, smooth and sure, right to where she needed him to be, zeroing in on her most sensitive spot.
Her moan caught in her throat and she closed her eyes. Sage raised her hips off the bed as he circled his finger. She pressed harder against his hand but it wasn’t enough.
She let out a groan of frustration and then felt his breath warm against her face. “What’s wrong, darlin’?”
“More.”
Sometimes getting to heaven requires a trip through hell.
Beautiful Girl
© 2008 Shiloh Walker
Twelve years ago, it looked like Del Prescott had it all. The wealthy family, the car, the looks and charm, and the perfect boyfriend. Then, mysteriously, she disappeared to “study abroad”. Now she’s back, and it’s not merely to attend a high school reunion. She’s here to face her demons—and Blake, the man she has never stopped loving.
Blake Mitchell is a c
hanged man, thanks to surviving twelve long years of difficulties that began after Del dropped out of his life. Now she’s back, and she’s nothing like the polished, stylish world traveler he imagined she’d be. There’s a darkness about her, and a grim expression in her eyes that says she’s prepared for fight or flight.
Blake’s concern for her breaks down the walls Del has built around her heart and she finally begins to heal from the abuse she suffered at the hands of her own family. But the betrayal goes deeper than either of them ever imagined—and it’s about to come back to haunt them.
Warning, this title contains the following: explicit sex, graphic language and violence.
Enjoy the following excerpt for Beautiful Girl:
Blake reached out and caught one of her hands, lifting it to his lips. “You look gorgeous.”
He kissed her hand, watching her from under the fringe of lashes. A soft blush stained her cheeks pink, her cheeks, her neck…lower. He found himself staring at the neckline of her dress and he tore his gaze away as he realized he was ogling her breasts. He wanted to do more than ogle. He wanted to peel the dress off and lick her all over. Instead, he gestured to the dance floor. “You know, I never got to dance with you at my senior prom. Why don’t you make it up to me now?”
The smile that curved her lips up hit in the chest with the force of sledgehammer.
“I’d love to.”
He led her out onto the dance floor and guided her hands, first one, then the other up to his shoulders. From the speakers, Garth Brooks sang a song about unanswered prayers. Blake wasn’t much for praying. Back before he’d stopped asking God for anything, though, this had been a regular prayer—having this woman back in his arms.
Maybe unanswered prayers weren’t the only thing to thank God for. At that moment, Blake was grateful for the answer to a prayer that had been a long time coming. Del moved against him awkwardly at first, her body tense, but bit by bit, she relaxed.
“So did you miss me at your senior prom?” she asked, cuddling against him just like she used to.
Lowering his head, he brushed a kiss against her cheek. He breathed in the soft, warm scent of her and managed to stifle his moan—just barely. His voice was hoarse as he told her, “Not a bit.”
Tipping her head back, she asked, “Not even a little?”
“Nope.” Then he smiled and confessed, “I didn’t go.” Cupping a hand over the back of her head, he eased her back against him. “Wasn’t interested.”
Through the thin silk of her dress, he could feel the heat of her body and it was killing him. He could feel the soft, sweet weight of her breasts, the flat planes of her belly. His left hand rested at the small of her back and he was almost painfully aware of the rounded curve of her ass. Nuzzling her neck, he murmured, “Did you miss your prom?”
Against his chest, Del smiled. “I missed half of my junior year and almost all of my senior year. The only prom I went to was your junior prom.”
Blake stroked a hand up her back. “Then we have quite a few dances to catch up, don’t we? You think you can close your eyes and pretend you’re wearing some sexy little formal number and I’ve got my James Bond attire on? We can pretend there’s some half-assed wedding-type band on the stage and we’re going to dance just a few dances before we slip out to find someplace to go neck.”
“Hmmmm.” Her gaze dropped to his lips. “Necking, huh?”
“Yeah. Remember that junior prom? You had a pretty green dress on. Almost the same color as your eyes.”
She laughed. “That wasn’t the prom, sugar. It was the dinner dance at the country club.”
He shrugged. “Prom. Dinner dance. I had to wear a monkey suit for both of them, but it was worth it to see you. If the green dress was the dinner dance, then that pink number—it was the prom, right?”
Del nodded. The pink number, as Blake called it, had been a designer dress she’d bought from a boutique in Lexington. Her breath hitched a little as she remembered that night. He’d peeled her out of her dress and if a county sheriff hadn’t shown up, he would have had her out of the strapless bra and her panties before too long.
He cupped the back of her head, arching her head up to look at him. His lids were low, giving him a sleepy-eyed look as he murmured, “Yeah, that was prom, all right.” A wicked light entered his eyes. “That was the night I got to see the princess of Prescott wearing nothing but a lacy pink bra and lacy pink panties.”
She felt her face burn and knew she must be blushing to the roots of her hair. “That was the night you stole those pink lace panties and wouldn’t give them back.”
He grinned at her and bent down, pressing a quick, light kiss to her lips that set her blood to a slow boil. “Yeah…you’re right.” Pressing his lips to her ear, Blake murmured, “Can I tell you a secret…I still have them.”
A startled, embarrassed laugh escaped her. “You do not.” Then she pulled away and looked at him. “Do you?”
With a grin crooking his lips, he shrugged. “That’s kind of a pathetic thing to lie about, holding on to some pink silk panties for more than twelve years.” He brushed his fingers across her lower lip. “I also kept all the letters you sent me that summer while I was gone.” A harsh look tightened his face and he glanced around.
He grabbed her hand and guided her off the dance floor and out the open doors that led to the patio. It wasn’t much quieter out there and he led her past the groups of laughing people into the gardens just beyond. It was darker out there, away from the lights of the patio, and quieter. From there, the sounds of the music were distant and faint.
“I wish you would have said something, Dee—Del,” he corrected himself.
She pressed a fingertip to his lips. “You can call me whatever you want, Blake.”
He caught her hand in his wrist and pressed a kiss to her palm. “I kept those letters, Dee. I’ve read them so many times they’re practically falling apart. Why didn’t you say something?”
“I didn’t know what to say,” she responded. She gently tugged her hand away from his, then reached up, cupped his neck, tugging him closer. He dipped his head and she rose onto her toes, kissing him softly. “I wanted to say something. But I was too afraid. Too ashamed.”
Tears burned her eyes and Blake swore softly. Bending his head, he kissed her eyes. “Don’t cry,” he pleaded. “Please, don’t cry.”
He kissed her lips and she sighed into his mouth. He’d meant to make her feel better, that was all. She knew that. But it went from comforting to seductive in the span of heartbeats. His hands wrapped around her body, pulling her close and she groaned, arching into him. She wrapped her arms around his neck and clung tight, opening her mouth to his and whimpering with pleasure as he pushed his tongue into her mouth.
Against her breasts, she could feel that hard muscled wall of his chest, and the rapid beat of his heart. His hands roamed restlessly over her back and Del knew that he wanted more. Needed it—she could feel the hunger raging inside him and surprisingly, she felt it echoed in her own body. Damn it, she needed him.
There were nights she’d lain awake at night, unable to sleep, so sick and lonely inside it hurt. She’d think of him, remember who she’d been before her life had fallen apart. Happy, innocent—and his. She’d wished, so often, that she could go back to being that girl.
But she’d accepted a long time ago that there was no turning back the clock, that she and Blake just weren’t meant to be.
Now, though, she had a chance. Not at turning back the clock—She couldn’t go back to the innocent girl she’d been, but she could be his.
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