Happy Hour: From the Black & White Collection

by Mari Carr

  She was panting, frustrated, and she foolishly felt as if she were on the verge of tears.

  He leaned back at the sound of her soft cry, the look on his face a perfect mixture of shock, awe and naked, red-hot desire.

  He smiled as she struggled to regain composure, her body screaming for relief.

  “I can see there will be no such thing as innocent kisses with you,” he said.

  She blinked rapidly, determined he shouldn’t see the tears threatening to fall. Christ, she was a fool.

  “I-I, shit.” She struggled to free her hands. He released her and she pushed him away. He moved over easily and she realized she wouldn’t have been able to budge him if he hadn’t permitted it. She walked away from the bed, pressing her back against the wall for support.

  “This is not, I mean, I don’t—” She was gasping for air and her voice and her body betrayed her, shaking uncontrollably.

  He sat up slowly and she knew he was deliberately keeping his movements unhurried lest he frighten her. “Gwen, you didn’t do anything wrong.”

  She wanted to laugh at the understatement of his words. He’d pulled her hair, held her down and she’d responded like a bitch in heat. He didn’t think that was wrong, weird?

  “I told you before, Ty. I want us to keep our relationship professional. Sex muddies the water. You know that.”

  “No, I don’t think I do. Gwen, there’s nothing wrong with admitting that we’re attracted to each other sexually. Shit, I can’t think of anything I want more than to tie your lovely body to that bed and bury myself between those hot thighs of yours.”

  “Stop it! Stop saying stuff like that. It isn’t going to happen. Ever.”

  He scowled at her words and rose from the bed, crossing to where she stood, trembling. “Well, I think you and I are about to have our first disagreement.”

  He leaned toward her as she pressed her body flat against the wall. He caged her in, grasping her hands by the wrists once again and pressing them against the flat surface, just above her head. “You and I are most certainly going to have sex, Gwen. Hard, hot, incredibly intense sex and you’re going to love every minute of it.”

  “You smug, conceited—”

  “Pull your pants down,” he said as he loosened his grip.

  She wanted to deny him, wanted to drive her fists against his chest and tell him to get the hell away from her, but his deep voice, his demanding words spoke to the loneliest part of her soul and she felt as if she’d been sunk neck-deep in quicksand.

  “Pull them down now,” he repeated, his voice commanding. Clearly he expected her to comply. This was so wrong. God dammit, it was wrong. And yet her body felt alive for the first time ever.

  She reached for the waistband of her pajama bottoms and she slowly shimmied the soft cotton over her hips. The material fell to her ankles and she stepped out of it, never taking her gaze off his determined face.

  “Good girl,” he murmured and she raised her hand to slap him for his condescending comment. He caught her wrist and pressed it against the wall. “You don’t want to do that.”

  She closed her eyes in surrender and he released her hand.

  His dominant actions, his powerful words, were truly soothing her weary soul, despite the fact her head was demanding she run away from him. Ty Ransome was the one man who could be her complete and utter downfall, yet rather than escape, she found herself relishing every touch, every word he offered.

  The higher the stakes, the hotter the game.

  Never Have I Ever

  © 2010 Alisha Rai

  Reynolds Pack, Book 1

  Ana Hudson enjoys her picture-perfect marriage to the love of her life. Everything is pleasant, easy—and satisfying. Then an anonymous e-mail arrives filled with lurid pictures of Taylor’s youthful exploits, leaving her wondering if she really knows him at all. More importantly…does she know herself?

  Driven to uncover the truth and push the limits of their sexual boundaries, she convinces Taylor to arrange a weekend getaway to a friend’s luxury cottage in the mountains. It’s the perfect place to get her husband to spill his secrets—and show him there’s a wealth of kinky fantasies hiding inside his good girl.

  Taylor’s spent years suppressing his animalistic side, hiding the not-completely-human DNA that once drove him wild. Except now his once quiet, reserved Ana has launched a campaign to destroy every inch of his hard-won control.

  With the snowy wilderness containing his darkest memories surrounding them, and his old pack-mate dropping in to give them a few pointers, the sexual battle of wills gets fierce.

  Let the games begin.

  Warning: Contains a brooding, dirty-minded, not-quite-human hero, a sweet not-quite-good-girl heroine, a howling-hawt car ride up a mountain, a chase through the snow followed by an erotic adventure with sports equipment, oral sex, anal sex, and a M/F/M ménage scene that will leave you panting.

  Enjoy the following excerpt for Never Have I Ever:

  Taylor studied the shape of Ana’s ass in the bright pink snowsuit she wore. It was a sad, sad day when the sight of the woman in a shapeless outfit drove him a little mad.

  For the umpteenth time he cursed Eli’s presence. His best friend had the absolute worst timing. Forget the fact that he’d been put outside like a naughty pup, when he could be snuggling with his wife on a wide leather sofa. With the other man here, he couldn’t even try to communicate with her about their recent escapades…not that he had the slightest inkling of how to broach that subject.

  You know that mind-blowing sex we had last night? Please don’t let me fuck you like an animal anymore. We need to leave here, because I think this place is making me want to do things to you that aren’t even entirely legal in some states. Oh, yeah, and I never told you, but I’m a—

  Abort, abort. Don’t think it. If you don’t think it, it’s not real.

  That’s right. The test wasn’t over yet. He still had all day tomorrow to get his body and rioting hormones under control. Perhaps by then he’d also be able to figure out what was going on in his newly enabling wife’s tricky brain.

  “This fresh air is so bracing, isn’t it?”

  Ana had to shout, and even then her voice was muffled by the ski mask on her face. His outfit wasn’t nearly so confining, but then, his body temperature was higher than hers. The wind had stopped howling, and there was a lull in the snow. A good foot or two of the stuff had built up on the ground from the night before. It was soft, perfect for—

  A snowball hit him square in the face. He recoiled in instinct and then shook his head. Ana’s brown eyes behind her mask were alight with mischief and delight. “Whoops.”

  “I can’t believe you just did that.”

  “Hmmm.” She leaned over, picked up a handful of snow and packed it deliberately between her palms. He watched her, hands loose at his sides. She let it fly, and this time the powder hit him square in the chest and dissipated. “Do you believe it now?”

  “You little…”

  When he bent over to grab some snow, she squealed and began running away, but soon discovered snowshoes didn’t allow for much speed. She wasted precious seconds trying to get her feet out from them. He, who had far more practice with the shoes, took them off in record time. Still, he waited patiently in his boots.

  She yelped again when she glanced over her shoulder and took in his ready stance, a snowball in each hand, and started to run back to the house.

  “I’ll give you a ten-second lead,” he announced. He was feeling generous, after all, and she was slow and tiny compared to him. Still, he let the snowballs fly, watching as she ducked and they smacked into the ground near her.

  “Sucker…” came her faint reply as she disappeared around a tree.

  Taylor didn’t even bother to run, his strides eating up the ground, one step to every three of hers. The snow was so soft it was an easy matter to simply follow her footprints.

  About ten feet into the woods, though, her footsteps sto
pped in front of a tree.

  His eyes narrowed. He looked left, and then right. He even glanced up, but there was no Ana sitting up a tree. Not like she would have that much maneuverability with the bulky outfit on her. “Ana,” he shouted.

  Nothing.

  He listened, but unlike Eli and the rest of his family, his hearing wasn’t quite so superior.

  His smell, though…

  Taylor smiled grimly and inhaled, sorting through the scent of pine and smoke to find Ana’s uniquely feminine scent, overlaid by vanilla lotion.

  Aaaaand, there she was. Hello, Ana.

  He stepped around the tree, only then noticing the almost too-careful brushing of the snow. A smile spread across his face, both proud and amazed. Smart girl, dragging something behind her to keep her path hidden.

  For someone who’d grown up in a crowded city, she’d just mightily impressed him.

  He didn’t bother walking anymore, but started running, his legs eating up the ground, following both her scent and the brushed path in the snow. He’d catch her soon.

  She’d zigged and zagged well though, moving fast for a tiny human who was weighed down by winter clothes, boots and what appeared to be a tree branch. His admiration shot up another notch.

  So did his lust.

  When I find her…

  He couldn’t even formulate the words as he ran faster, as her scent became stronger. Images passed through his mind of her wearing a fragile peasant blouse and flimsy skirt. When he found her, he would rip her top off…

  His strides lengthened. She’d gasp, but her body would conform to his, her mouth eating his as surely as he ate at hers. Sinking sweetly to her knees, she would open his rough trousers, take his cock out and suck it into her mouth. He’d control her motions with his hand on her head, making sure that she fucked him exactly as he wanted and needed it, and then he’d hoist her up against the side of a tree, rip her panties off and fuck her as she screamed and squirmed under his body. The rough bark would bite into his hands where he braced them, but he wouldn’t care, would be unable to stop…

  The sound of panting filled his ears, and it took him a second to realize it was him, his breathing coming mostly from arousal and not exertion.

  Find your woman.

  Fuck your woman.

  The sentences became a never-ending loop in his head, reverberating through every cell in his body, commanding him, working him into a frenzy. He didn’t even need to look at the disturbed snow—he could smell her, so close, so close, soclosesoclosesoclose…

  He broke free from the stand of trees. Her ski suit made her into a target of puffy pink, small and defenseless in the huge backyard of the cottage. Like any good predator, he made sure she heard him too late. By the time she started to turn, he was in mid-leap. She could only get out a tiny squeak before he tackled her to the ground.

  Somehow, though he was in his frenzied state, he managed to keep her landing soft, cradling a hand under her head so she wouldn’t smack it against the snow, shifting his weight so he didn’t land on her.

  He kissed her, his desperation and need a living thing, uncaring that she still wore a ski mask, uncaring that she was bundled in layers of slick outerwear.

  She kissed him back eagerly, but it was the cold lips under his that made him draw back, reason entering his mind for the first time since he’d caught her scent.

  “Inside,” he said roughly.

  With the ski mask on, all he could see was her wild eyes and her lax, wet mouth. She grabbed him by the sides of his face and brought him down to kiss her again.

  He complied, surprised and hard. Was she as excited by this chase as he was? It was the slight touch of wetness on his wrist where his glove had separated from his jacket sleeve that brought him back to the world.

  “Too cold,” he rumbled, and moved off her despite her grasping arms.

  He hoisted her to her feet and glanced at the house. Eli was inside there.

  Good. Make him watch you take her. Maybe he doesn’t know yet that she’s yours. Force him to admit it.

  Taylor shook his head, trying to shove the vicious thoughts out. Images bombarded him again, even more dark and dirty, of Eli holding Ana still for his penetration. Fucking his wife’s mouth while the other man ate out her cunt, both of them driving her wild with pleasure.

  No! No. He’d never treat her like that.

  “Taylor, please, fuck me here. I need you so bad.”

  The dirty word coming from his wife’s sweet lips drove him even further into his dangerously borderline feral state. If she had had his higher body temperature, she probably could have easily been fucked into a snowbank, but she didn’t. And he feared what would happen if he did take her to the house to find Eli there.

  So he hoisted her into a fireman’s carry, ignoring her yelp of surprise, and made way for the huge storage shed. Despite its humble name, the space was large and neat, and most importantly, it kept the cold out.

  After he entered, he set her on her feet on the concrete floor and gave her a terse order. “Strip.”

  Never venture out of bounds without a buddy—preferably two.

  Falling, Freestyle

  © 2010 Vivian Arend

  Dara's past four incredible years have been lived to the fullest. Along with her best friends, Kane and Jack, she’s left no local wilderness unexplored, no ski slope unchallenged. Yet lately she wonders why they’ve never seen her as more than a buddy with breasts. When—or if—either man will cross that unspoken line.

  It’s a line Kane eyes harder every day. Since high school, he and Jack have shared everything. A condo, vacations—and their best girl. Kane’s ready to get serious about his wilderness school and outfitter business, and that includes putting down roots. Preferably with Dara.

  Wary of the men who’ve recently been sniffing around Dara, Jack has a growing sense that he or Kane better make a move soon, or they’re going to lose out on their perfect match. Question is, who does she prefer…and who’s going to bring their easygoing trio to an end?

  Overhearing the boys arguing over her, Dara’s floored—and torn. Choose between them? No way. Drastic measures are called for, a plan for their annual holiday getaway that will clarify her feelings once and for all—or lose everything in a sexual storm of whiteout proportions.

  Warning: Old friends turned lovers can get into the most trouble—exhibitionism, bondage, spanking. Anal sex, oral sex, unauthorized use of ski safety harnesses, icicles in the hot tub… The author apologizes in advance for any melted monitors.

  Enjoy the following excerpt for Falling, Freestyle:

  Alpine Responsibility Code

  Rule #5—Safety restraints must be used at all times.

  Dara stood erect, her breasts like some kind of missile system. Cocked and fully loaded, they aimed forward, barely contained by the wisp of fabric on her skin. It was the sexiest thing she owned and she felt more naked in it than if Kane had insisted she come to dinner in the nude.

  She’d packed the scanty lingerie with uncertainty. Heck, she’d bought it during her mad planning session for this getaway, trying to think of what the guys might find attractive. It wasn’t her usual attire—having a string up her butt was not what she’d choose to wear most days. Besides, it was scary how much the shop had charged for mere inches of material.

  It was all worth it when she saw the expression in Jack’s eyes as Kane led her around the corner. His hands skittered over the utensils he was placing on the table.

  “Oh sweet thing. Where have you been all my life?” He gave her one of his exaggerated winks.

  Suddenly she was comfortable again. These were her buds, her “cuddle in the dark because there’s a lightning storm outside the tent” friends.

  Her lovers as of an hour ago.

  There was nothing to fear from them, not even clad in the most come-hither outfit in the world.

  Kane seated her carefully, taking the chair on her right. Jack sat on her left and they all filled t
heir plates with the pasta and aromatic sauce.

  Jack placed a piece of bread on her plate and she wrinkled her nose. “Garlic bread?”

  Kane pointed with his knife. “He made Caesar salad too. We’re all goners, so you’d better eat some in self-defense.”

  “Garlic breath. Ugh. I guess we’re not planning on doing anything else tonight.”

  The expression in Jack’s eyes shot down that idea immediately. Dara took a deep breath and turned her attention to the table. She couldn’t maintain his gaze, not yet. Not when he seemed to look straight through her and see what she really wanted.

  Which wouldn’t be so bad if she knew herself.

  Their lovemaking before supper had made it clear she was physically compatible with both the guys. Now she needed to concentrate on her real agenda. Who did she want the most, not just in the bedroom? Who did she have the best chance at forever with?

  She reached for her fork and stopped in surprise. “Umm, Jack? The food looks great, but you forgot to give me any utensils.”

  “Didn’t forget.”

  Okay, now he was getting annoying. She pointed beside her plate. “Hello, nothing to eat with.”

  His fingers encircled her wrist and tugged her arm toward him. Jack laid a thin black strap over her skin and smoothed the Velcro fasteners together. The band formed a loop around her wrist, like a sports-watch strap. A longer section, with a locking clip, extended five inches toward the floor. She stared at him in confusion, attempting to pull her hand back. He closed his fingers over the strap and trapped her in place.

  Oh my God.

  Kane cursed. “You just happened to have handcuffs in your luggage?”

  Jack shook his head. “Safety harnesses from my skis.”

  Dara’s head spun a little as her heart rate increased in a rush. Pure adrenaline shot into her veins and morphed into desire. The tiny scrap of lace between her legs grew instantly soaked. Jack’s pupils dilated as he steadily returned her gaze. He waited, his hand supporting hers and she knew he’d felt her tremble. She waited, willing the blood pounding through her limbs to slow enough she could stay vertical.