Beauty Bites

by Mary Hughes

  “H…how’d you get in?” I croaked. More thong-dousing—apparently parts of me wanted to know how he’d “get in” too.

  “Through the store. Your teenager wasn’t very attentive. I found my way into the house.”

  “You penetrated the family abode?” Penetrated. Just club me. “Um, why have you come?” Come. “Here, I mean. Why have you come here…to the store? Yes, that’s what I meant.” Shut up, Junior.

  I heard a soft grunt, a stifled groan. Him or me, I didn’t know.

  “I’ve come to pick you up.” His mouth barely moved, lips stiff. “We’ve Emerson’s limo.” He shifted his hands from his jacket to jam them into his jeans pockets.

  “Limo?” My eyes automatically latched on to his hands, which framed a rising zipper. “You’re offering me a fast ride…?” Oh, thank you, Dr. Freud. I cleared my throat and pretended I wasn’t an ass. “You do know the PAC is only a block from here?”

  “It’s on our way. I didn’t like the thought of you toting those heavy instruments when I could do something about it.”

  “That was nice.” Trapped in a limo with Big Dark and Dangerous, porn flick fantasy number five. Maybe I should have refused, but lugging the headless-corpse sax was a pain. Besides, how much trouble could we get into in just one block? “Give me a sec to pack up.” I started to close the attic door. Manners took over. “Why don’t you come back? Be careful to stay on the walkway.” I started for my room.

  No footsteps clunked behind me. I took a couple more steps but still heard nothing, so I twisted around to see if he was there.

  I managed to twist myself off-balance. I tried to catch myself, but my foot hit the edge of the narrow walkway, skidded off. No nearby walls or even studs to grab, so I fell.

  With incredible speed and grace, Glynn snared me just before I put a Junior-size hole through my parents’ ceiling. I was ridiculously grateful—until I realized he’d caught me around the breasts.

  And that one big, hot hand was gently squeezing.

  I sucked in a breath. Jagged darts of lust fired from that rhythmically squeezing hand and arrowed down my belly to detonate in my groin.

  “Ah, Junior. You’re so soft.” Glynn’s breath heated my hair. “So lovely.” He rolled me around until I was facing him. His arms wrapped me, bands of hard muscle. “I didn’t sleep at all last night, thinking about you. Your scent, your feel. Your taste.”

  I stared up at him, wondering if I had really fallen through the ceiling gypsum and was lying unconscious on my folks’ kitchen floor. This gorgeous stranger had been thinking about me all night? My brain tried to make sense of it… He dropped his head and kissed me.

  His mouth took me slowly. Not leisurely slow but purposefully slow, thoroughly, his lips circling gently. Like we lay entwined on a summer beach, cool sand below, warm sun above, with nothing to do but each other. And he was going to do me oh, so right.

  My eyelids drifted shut, my palms slid onto his chest. His hard, thick pecs were warm slabs of brick.

  He dipped in, tongue licking lightly at my mouth. My lips parted, my breath mingled with his and I tasted masculine fire. I opened more eagerly for him—but he backed off, tonguing the corners of my mouth, tracing the outline of my lips. Rubbing lightly yet thoroughly. Sweetly, as if we had lifetimes to explore each other.

  Like a kiss of commitment.

  I pulled back. “No involvement” was more than an aim, it was a mantra. Duty to my parents, followed by my dreams. Commitment didn’t figure in except as a stumbling block to avoid.

  “Don’t be afraid,” he murmured. “I won’t hurt you.”

  I was afraid, not that he’d hurt me physically, but that he’d take over my future.

  He didn’t know that and only held me more firmly. Securely. Despite my doubts, I felt safe in his warm, strong arms.

  Until he bent and kissed the stuffing out of me, tongue swirling masterfully, pure, hot sensation. I squeaked but he distracted me by rubbing his muscled chest into my palms. My fingers tightened compulsively. The man’s pecs were sauna rocks set to steaming. My fear melted away, leaving only need.

  I stretched up, kissed him back.

  He gripped me tighter, practically fusing me with his burning body, and rocked his pelvis into me. His hips were the blacksmith’s hammer and mine the anvil, sparking red-hot lust between. And oh, what a fine, large sword was developing.

  I clutched his jacket, pulled him toward my room. We’d fall into a tangled heap on my bed. I’d be eager and open and suck him in for some mind-blowing sex.

  As if he read my mind, Glynn purred, “Ah, Junior. This is what filled my dreams last night. You, all warm and wet and ready for me. It seems I have been waiting a lifetime to make love to you.”

  Okay, that finally broke through the red haze of my mind.

  Sex, sure, in small doses. But making love? Lovemaking led to neglect of duty, which led to regret. To rainbow dreams shattered. I had been a dutiful daughter for five years, and I was just on the verge of having it all, setting my parents up while fulfilling my dreams. I was not getting distracted now.

  Looks like someone’s knees are going to get a workout.

  Lover Enraptured

  © 2013 Jodi Redford

  Thieves of Aurion, Book 2

  Avily Donahoe has dated way too many losers trying to get over Jerrick Hunter, the man who taught her everything about the life of crime she left behind. Now he has the balls to show up and ask her to pose as his sub, complete with skimpy leather outfit, to get inside a no-faes-allowed sex club?

  Oh, hell no. If anyone’s going to be wearing next to nothing, it’s going to be Jerrick…as her bitch.

  Five years ago, Jerrick realized the lonely kid he’d taken under his wing had grown into a tempting, desirable woman—and he’d cut her loose. If gaining her help now means hitting his knees with a leash and a collar, so be it.

  But soon their front escalates into an all-too-real erotic game where the prize is the one thing that tantalizes him beyond reason. Their hearts aren’t the only thing they’ll lose if they fail. It could mean the end of everything—and everyone—they know and love.

  Warning: This book contains male groveling, the occasional blindfold and feather tickler, wicked sex magic, and a fae thief who isn’t afraid to wear ass-less chaps when the job calls for it.

  Enjoy the following excerpt for Lover Enraptured:

  He was starting to come to the conclusion that the smaller the package, the more potential for testing his patience. Despite being half his size, Avi possessed the ability to drive him to the limits of his sanity.

  After their showdown in the bathroom, she’d calmly ordered him into the kitchen—where he was currently making her a salad while she kicked back on the sofa. She was taking this whole getting-into-character to an exasperating extreme. He knew she was doing it to prove a point, and he even understood why.

  What she didn’t understand was the dangerous fire she was meddling with.

  There was a reason he desperately needed to be the one holding the reins in this charade, and it had nothing to do with some farfetched notion of refusing to kowtow to a woman’s demands. As long as he remained in control of himself, everything would be okay. He could treat this job like any other and stay cool and professional in the process. But with Avi pushing him and stripping his defenses, what hope did he hold of resisting the potent pull of her?

  He had to. Giving in was not an option. Popping a cheese cube into his mouth, he squinted at her profile. “It’s bloody cold in here. Can I put my damn shirt back on?”

  “The lower temp is good for your metabolism. We wouldn’t want you developing a spare tire around your gut.”

  “I appreciate your concern for my health.” Somehow or other, he’d find a way to get her back for this. “What else do you want in your salad?”

  “Maybe a few slices of the Nahimi melon.”

  He opened her cooler and inspected the contents of the crisper bin. “Looks like you a
lready polished it off.”

  “Well shoot.”

  He waited for her to demand he drag his ass down to the grocer. Or perhaps produce some magical seeds and till her a garden so she could have her blasted fruit.

  “Guess you’ll have to skip adding it. Chop up the rest of the cooked hen on the second shelf and toss it in instead. I need my protein, you know.”

  Undoubtedly so she could keep her lungs nice and strong for bossing him around.

  A minute later, meal completed to her exacting standards, he carried it to the sofa. She patted the cushion next to her. Before he even sat down he knew what her next request would be.

  “You can feed it to me.”

  Biting back a growl, he speared a serving of the greens and crispy poultry with the fork and held it to her mouth. Her lips closed around the metal tines with an mmm of pleasure that wrapped around his cock and refused to let go. Yes, she definitely drove him insane. In more ways than one. He battled the potent desire to suck the remaining few speckles of dressing from her berry-vinaigrette-glossed lips.

  “Does it meet your approval, my precious?” His voice sounded strained and gruff to his own ears.

  Her smile was as sweetly delivered as his endearment. “Color me impressed. Didn’t know you had it in you to cook. You’ve always avoided any domestic activity like it’s a fate worse than death.”

  Damn sassy woman. Even if she was right. “It’s a salad. Not much cooking involved.”

  She surprised him by snatching the fork from his grip. At bloody last, she was putting this ridiculous dominatrix stuff to bed for the night.

  Truthfully, her roleplaying wasn’t the only thing wreaking havoc on his tightly strung patience. Sitting next to her and not running his hands all over her silky skin was killing him. Their brief contact in the bathroom only added kindling to the fire crackling between them. If he wasn’t careful, he stood a good chance of getting burned.

  He needed to remove himself from temptation. Now. Desperately clutching the frayed strands of his willpower, he started to shove up from the cushion.

  Avi stalled him with her hand on his thigh. His entire world narrowed to the distracting pressure of her splayed fingers. He didn’t immediately notice the fork waving inches from his face. “Wha—?”

  She shoved the greens into his mouth, effectively shutting him up. He chewed the offering, his wary focus never leaving her face. She scooted closer and tucked her legs over his lap. A rush of familiarity swept over him. How many times had she curled into him like this? Too many to count. And just like those other occasions when he’d sweated through her need to cuddle, he questioned his ability to keep his hands safely out of the danger zone.

  Popping another savory morsel of poultry into his mouth, she looked him square in the eye, her own twinkling with a devilment that put him on high alert. “Put your hand on my leg.”

  He returned her stare for a long moment, attempting to decipher if this was part of her cover or something else. Something that’d ultimately prove a far tougher test to his control.

  “Don’t make me punish you for your disobedience, Jer.”

  The mock sternness in her tone did funny things to his gut. Or maybe the sudden stiffening of his cock had something to do with the lazy swirl of her fingertip along his abdomen. Hard to tell.

  Extra emphasis on hard.

  If he was smart, he would have called an end to their training right there and packed it in for the night, but apparently his intelligence had migrated south for the winter. “What punishment are you intending to dish out?”

  “Well…” She set aside the forgotten plate of salad and straddled his lap. Her fingers drifted along the delicate swells of her hips, the soft scritch of her nails raking the supple leather providing an erotic soundtrack. “If you won’t touch me, maybe I should make you watch me do it.”

  Surely she didn’t mean that the way it sounded. “Avi—”

  She pressed a fingertip to his mouth. “No, you had your chance. Now you’re going to pay the price.”

  Oh, he held no doubt of that. Particularly when her hands ghosted upward, tracing her rib cage and higher still to the fullness of her breasts. She rolled the pads of her fingers over her nipples, mimicking the motions he’d used earlier in the bathroom. His lungs suddenly felt equally as constricted as his damn briefs.

  She licked her lips, the sultry haze of desire in her eyes nearly doing him in. “Did you like touching me? Do you wish you could do it right now? Would you caress my breasts, or maybe slide your hand up under my skirt and find out how wet I am?”

  Sweet goddess. He hissed a breath between his teeth. “Don’t play this dangerous game with me.”

  “Why? Worried I’ll crack through that legendary control of yours?” One palm swept lower and hovered temptingly near her mound.

  Sweat broke out on his forehead. He’d never been more grateful for the hindrance of a skirt. Ironic, considering he usually cursed them to hell and back for slowing his seduction progress.

  The heated glimmer in her eyes making him infinitely nervous and aroused, Avi lifted onto her knees and tiptoed her fingers along the creamy-smooth expanse of her thighs. Hypnotized, he watched the slow crawl of her hemline ascending toward her hips. The black lace triangle of her panties popped into view, and his shaky exhalation snuck loose before he could rope it into submission. Damn. He was a fucking sucker for sexy underthings.

  Then again, he was a fucking sucker when it came to Avi. Period.

  “Do you like what you see?” She leaned forward until her lips grazed his earlobe. “Or should I give you something even better to watch?”

  His brain screamed one answer while his cock piped in with an entirely different response. Not trusting the words that might jog loose of his mouth, he swallowed hard. This close, he could smell the sweet heat of her. Beneath the luscious floral essence, he easily detected the feminine musk of her arousal. It was driving him out of his mind. He longed to hike her up into his arms and bury his head between her legs, fill his nose with the heady intoxication of her pussy, right before he filled her with his tongue.

  She leaned back, awarding him some room to enjoy the show. He knew he was in some serious trouble the instant she hesitantly stroked over the fabric covering her crotch. She was soaked. The slick, succulent sound taunting him verified it. No need for him to see or feel her wet, velvety flesh firsthand.

  But he wanted to.

  Dear gods, how he wanted to.

  Beauty Bites

  Mary Hughes

  Beauty is skin deep…but the beast goes all the way.

  Biting Love, Book 6

  When top Minneapolis ad man Ric Holiday is asked to design a campaign for a quaint little town, his first reaction is absolutely not. Meiers Corners is too near Chicago, home of the vampire who turned him as an orphaned boy.

  Then the city sends an angel-faced med student with a body made for sin to plead their case. Synnove Byornsson is the ray of sunshine Ric hasn’t felt since he was human.

  Armed with determination and a micro miniskirt, Synnove is prepared to crash Holiday’s penthouse cocktail party—and to dislike him on sight. But Mr. All-Style-No-Substance turns out to have a deadly smile, a barely restrained, feral strength, and piercing blue eyes that look at her—not at her cleavage.

  Unfortunately Synnove has competition in the form of a sly temptress with a counterproposal. For the first time in her life, Synnove must cash in her genetic lottery ticket and fire back with some sizzle of her own—or her beloved Meiers Corners could become the new Sin City.

  Warning: Contains a doctor with a bod for sin, an ad exec with a chip on his shoulder, sarcasm, sex, and a cabin full of annoying friends. Secrets are revealed. One heart-stopping, horrific moment leads to the ultimate of happily-ever-afters.

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  This book is a work of fiction.
The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  Samhain Publishing, Ltd.

  11821 Mason Montgomery Road Suite 4B

  Cincinnati OH 45249

  Beauty Bites

  Copyright © 2013 by Mary Hughes

  ISBN: 978-1-61921-581-8

  Edited by Christa Soule

  Cover by Kanaxa

  All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  First Samhain Publishing, Ltd. electronic publication: August 2013

  www.samhainpublishing.com