Red Hot Candy (22 All-New Delicious Romance Books by Best-Selling Authors about Alpha Males, Billionaires, Cowboys, and More for Your Summer Reading) (Red Hot Boxed Sets)

by Dani Dundee

  At least that was her plan, to tease him until he was at the edge, his breath ragged and desperate, and then she’d ease herself up and onto his gorgeous cock, plunging herself down and bringing him crashing over the edge.

  But then he leaned forward, his big rough fingers were reaching between her thighs, even as she sucked him greedily. He slid two fingers into her effortlessly and curled them in that special way inside her, then rubbed his thumb against her clit at the same time. It wasn’t fair how good it felt, how much it made Mina lose her mind. She fell forward onto Matt’s body, his cock popping out of her mouth as she gasped and moaned at the fingers plunging within her.

  Mina fought for control, to hold on to something resembling conscious thought, but it was a losing battle. Whenever people had mentioned the mating frenzy—mostly in embarrassed, hushed tones—Mina had thought they were talking about Matt. He was the supernatural one. The man with the animal living in his soul. She thought he’d be a mindless, humping, growling man that would have his way with her with until dawn broke. And yeah, Matt was in the grips of the spell—the way he growled “Mine” as his fingers stretched and filled and reached so goddamn deep inside of her was a pretty good indication.

  But she was in the grips of the mating frenzy, too. All these months, all those veiled innuendos from the women of Bearfield, they’d been trying to prepare her for this. Though if they’d just said, “Hey, on your wedding night, as a result of the rituals we put you through leading up to it, you’re going to turn into a were-slut, shifting into something elemental and made of pure ecstasy,” it might have helped.

  Mina heard a yowling sound and opened her eyes. The sound was coming from her own throat, an animal cry of pleasure. Matt was staring up at her with rapt adoration, his eyes fully glowing as man and beast were merged. His eyes were an infinitely deep pool that she was falling into, even as she lifted herself up on her powerful thighs and rocked hard against the fingers inside her. “Mine,” she screamed as her pleasure carried her aloft and dragged her screaming joyfully down into the golden pools of her husband’s gaze.

  She fought to hold on, digging her fingers into Matt’s chest. Her mate hissed and she saw that her nails—painted red for the wedding—had left bloody furrows down his massive, slab-like pecs. Five deep slashes on either side of his chest, they healed in seconds but left thin white scars behind. He was marked now, forever and ever as her mate. More permanent than a wedding ring, more primal than a tattoo, she’d ripped open his skin as she came.

  Matt slid his fingers wetly from inside her. The emptiness she felt would be damn temporary, she knew. Placing her hands on his chest, spreading her fingers wide so that she just covered the new scars, Mina leaned over and kissed Matt tenderly on the lips. “Mine,” she said, smiling.

  But Matt wasn’t home. He was just need now. Need for release. Need to bang her ever-loving brains out.

  Her husband reached up and hugged her, crushing her body against his as he rolled over on the bed, turning the tables, so she was the one with her back on the mattress. She smiled up at him. Her first orgasm had tempered the frenzy somewhat, but she felt drunk on it. Her skin tingled. The heat in her belly was magma now. Should she warn Matt before he fucked her that her pussy was hotter and wetter than a volcano? He lifted her feet onto his shoulders and settled back into a sitting position, with his legs under him and his large heavy cock resting on top of her belly. He’d find out soon enough what she had in store for him.

  Matt leaned back until the head of his cock was lined up with her wet, hungry entrance. “Mine,” he growled, his eyes blazing so bright they cast shadows in the room. Mina bit her lip and nodded at him. It’d been a month since he’d been inside her, and there wasn’t a minute that had gone by that she hadn’t missed the feeling of being filled by him, taken by him.

  In a rush, Matt surged into her, burying himself to the hilt in one thrust. Mina’s post-orgasmic ease evaporated then, as the frenzy pulsed within her and she roared—actually roared—with pleasure. Her voice shook the beams of the house. The fire inside her wasn’t quenched by Matt’s cock, like she’d been expecting, it was stoked by it. He gripped her hands in his and pressed them to the bed over her head. Her feet were locked onto his shoulders as he moved within her, pounding her with a delicious fury. She couldn’t move, she could barely squirm. Not that she wanted to move, except to scratch and claw at the man, pulling him deeper and faster and harder into her. Her sex gripped at Matt’s cock, clenching and clasping him, holding him tightly. Her husband moaned as he kissed her. The fucking may have been animalistic, but the kisses were pure Matt. It was still her husband, still the man she loved.

  A new sensation boiled within her and a trickle of liquid heat swirled inside her quaking cunt. Matt hissed when he felt it and she knew somehow that she’d marked him again. And then he was roaring, loud enough so that everyone in Bearfield and for twenty miles further could hear it. He was coming then, pulsing inside her, filling her belly with a different kind of warmth that tempered her own. He looked down at her, his eyes golden and his canines elongated into fangs.

  “Mine,” he said, his voice a bass rumble, his cock still erupting inside her.

  Mina trembled at the edge of another orgasm. It wouldn’t take much to send her over the edge. Just another few thrusts, a quick strumming of her clit.

  “Yours,” she said. “I’m yours.”

  Matt leaned over and she braced herself for the pain as his mouth grazed her shoulder, his jaws opened wide for the mating mark, and then his teeth pierced her flesh even as he thrust into her again, slowly now, commanding her. She’d expected pain with the bite, agony. But instead her orgasm broke, rolling over her and over her and over her. And she roared then, the heat that had been building inside her since the day she first met Matt finally breaking and erupting and changing her forever.

  Glancing over at her reflection in the window, Mina marveled at how big Matt was on top of her, at the lines of his back as the frenzy took him and he began thrusting into her in earnest again, but mostly at her own eyes. They were glowing with a honey-gold light.

  And they looked deliriously happy.

  ***

  Matt Morrissey is a bear shifter with a sweet tooth, an easy smile, and muscles for miles. Mina Brooks is a baker who couldn’t take the heat of a mobster-infested kitchen. When Mina crashes her car in the charming, sleepy town of Bearfield she thought her life was over, but then she met Matt. As fate pulls the two of them closer, and the dangerous men close in on Mina, Matt has to prove he's got what it takes to defend the woman he loves from the mysterious forces pursuing her.

  A SLICE OF HONEYBEAR PIE

  (Bearfield - Book One)

  A TASTE OF HONEYBEAR WINE

  (Bearfield - Book Two)

  See A Taste of Honeybear Wine at:

  Amazon

  About Jacqueline Sweet

  Hi, I’m Jacqueline Sweet. I love to write sexy, thrilling stories. My stories are either paranormal, or contemporary and steamy. I love to write about werewolves, bear shifters, witches, dragons and everything else that has magic pumping in its veins. My stories often involve the quaint and charming paranormal community of Bearfield, or take place at my sexy, dangerous Penrose Academy, a university for wizards too dangerous or odd for the better wizarding schools.

  I hope you enjoy this book, and if you did, please leave a review. Reviews are just the best. Stay on top of all new releases and receive exclusive word of free books and giveaways by signing up for my mailing list.

  Website | Mailing list | Facebook | Twitter | Goodreads

  <<<<>>>>

  Table of Contents

  Red Hot Candy

  Table of Contents

  The Things I Never Said by Jo Raven

  Perfectly Equipped by Lacey Silks

  Billionaires in Disguise: Rae, Kidnapped by Blair Babylon

  A Fan-TAB-Ulous Night by Olivia Rigal

  Take it Easy by Daisy Prescott

&n
bsp; Before Flesh by Sky Corgan

  Scorched into Submission by Daizie Draper

  Pandora's Box by Sarah M. Cradit

  Braving Love by SJ Mayer

  Always Enough by Molly McLain

  Mine In Dreams by Olivia Hardin

  Like Home by Mira Bailee

  Unshakeable by JC Valentine

  Yearning to Yield by Pavarti K Tyler

  First-Class Scoundrel by Liv Morris

  Mated in Bearfield by Jacqueline Sweet

  Le Moulin by JC Andrijeski

  Jesse's Girl by Alison Foster

  Dude by Gillian Cherry

  Biker Billionaire's Bitch by Layla Wilcox

  Swaying Fate by Irma Geddon

  Gender Studies 101 by Dani Dundee

  Disclaimers and Copyright Notices

  “LE MOULIN”

  by JC Andrijeski

  “LE MOULIN”

  by JC Andrijeski

  “LE MOULIN” © JC Andrijeski 2015

  He’d left her once already...the hardest thing he’d ever had to do. Now a soldier, assassin and spy for the Seer race, Terian pretends to be human as he fights to free his people from enslavement by humanity.

  Then he hears her voice on the streets of Paris at the tail end of WWII, just outside the Moulin Rouge. His childhood love, now owned by humans like so many of their race...but this time he vows to never lose her again.

  ~ A Terian and Revik prequel in the Allie’s War universe ~

  “LE MOULIN”

  “Feigran?” she said, her voice holding a seer’s accent, likely one born and raised in Eastern Europe. “Di’lanlente a’ guete...Feigran? Is it really you?”

  The name shocked him.

  More than the voice, which took longer to penetrate the alcohol-fueled fog of his mind.

  Once he realized he recognized the voice too, even beyond the coincidence of her knowing that name…a name no one had used in more years than Terian cared to count...the shock nearly blanked out his mind. That shock turned into a near panic.

  He couldn’t be ID’d out here. Not as a seer.

  Not even in relation to where he’d been born.

  Hell, he wasn’t even sure if his friend, Dehgoies Revik, who currently slumped half-conscious on the sidewalk next to where Terian stood, knew the name Feigran.

  Truthfully, he doubted it.

  He fought to think, still tense from that initial panic. The emotion was strong enough and conflicted enough that he came close to opening his hand, letting his friend drop the rest of the way into the gutter from where he held him by the rough fabric of his borrowed United States Captain’s jacket.

  Terian stopped himself from doing that, though, even as his friend muttered something unintelligible in German.

  Damn Revi’ and his Bavarian roots. German really wasn’t the best language for either of them to be speaking at the moment, either.

  They were supposed to be Americans, after all.

  More to the point, drunk French patriots were burning swastikas all over the city. Paris had only just been liberated a few days prior, and the whole city was still in paroxysms of joy, catharsis and anger. Trying to convince inebriated locals that Revi’ was just an interpreter and not an actual Nazi might not fly so well, given all that.

  Terian fought with whether to turn, or if he should pretend he hadn’t heard the voice at all. More than just panic had reached him by then, though. Memory had surfaced, too. Memories as intense and bittersweet as any he’d ever had. Was it really who it sounded like? Was that possible?

  Curiosity tugged at him, harder the longer he hesitated, but he hesitated anyway, staring out the mouth of the alley rather than behind him, from where the voice lived.

  “Feigran?” Doubtful that time, nervous. “You are Feigran...aren’t you?”

  They were just outside a back door to the Moulin Rouge in Paris, France. They’d arrived in Paris itself less than twenty-four hours earlier.

  Revi’ had wanted to see the girls.

  He’d wanted a prostitute, really, Terian suspected, but he was probably too drunk to get it up at this point anyway. Terian couldn’t really be annoyed with him though. Not tonight.

  He’d expected it, having spent this day of year with Revi’ twice before.

  On the main street connected to the alley to the south, Terian could hear laughter and catcalls, in more than one language.

  Nazi flags burned in an oil drum garbage can just up the street. A bare handful of drinks had most of the occupants of just about any restaurant or bar bursting into the French national anthem…and sometimes even God Save the Queen, which might have been funny under different circumstances.

  Since they were dressed as Americans, Terian didn’t think they’d paid for a single drink since they’d arrived here. Revi’ certainly hadn’t...but he was better at carrying off the American accent when he spoke French.

  He knew he was stalling though.

  Turning slowly, he gripped his friend’s jacket tighter when he faced the woman.

  She blinked when he turned, pulling her coat tighter around her throat.

  Terian found himself staring, even as a denser shock went through his mind and light.

  He’d known. He’d known, just from the voice...but seeing her there paralyzed him.

  “Nara.” His throat tightened. “Nara. How are you here?”

  She broke out in a grin. Before he could decide how to react, she ran up to him, a strange, graceful lightness to her step, almost a skip, even in the high-heeled shoes and tiny miniskirt she wore. He barely took in her clothes in a glance, but they hit at him somewhere, and not where he might have expected. Instead he felt a flush of anger, even as she reached him. Before he could work his way past that, she had her arms wound around his neck.

  He gripped his friend’s jacket in his free hand as he returned her embrace, even as she kissed him on the cheek, pluming heat at his chest with her aleimi, or living light.

  “Brother,” she said, nuzzling his face with hers.

  Terian tensed, glancing down the alleyway, his training strict enough that he looked instinctively for human witnesses. She called him brother in the seer language, not in French or English––seemingly oblivious to the fact that speaking to him in that tongue at all was a means of outing him as not human. Seers all called one another brother and sister; it was a sign of race, not family. But Terian was not supposed to be a seer here.

  The thought didn’t seem to occur to her though.

  Or maybe she had simply forgotten herself in those few seconds.

  “...They said you were dead,” she murmured, kissing him again. “Even your parents said so…where have you been? Gaos...I have missed you so much...I have missed you...” She kissed him again, more lingeringly on the mouth, caressing his hair back from his face.

  Terian didn’t know how to answer her, not in words.

  She seemed to pick up on his confusion, or maybe his indecision on how to react. She pulled away slightly, still staring up at his face, her eyes holding wonder.

  He couldn’t hold her gaze for long, though. Still gripping her tightly with his arm, he glanced down at his friend, trying to decide if he was conscious.

  She followed his gaze, smiling as she pressed against him. “Who is this?”

  Terian shrugged, seer-fashion. It was amazing how quickly he fell out of his camouflage of human mannerisms. He noticed that his arm refused to loosen its hold on her. He also noticed that his body was reacting to her pressing herself against him, in more ways than one.

  “It is his anniversary,” Terian explained, still looking down at Revi’.

  His voice held regret, but he still didn’t quite meet her eyes. When he finally glanced up, she quirked an eyebrow at him, smiling. He felt the smile somewhere lower than his belt.

  “Is his wife so terrible?” she said, wrapping an arm tighter around his waist.

  “His wife is dead,” Terian said, shrugging again like a seer, using his head and hand to mak
e the gesture instead of his shoulders. “It is not a good day for him.”

  “Oh.” Sympathy plumed off her light as she looked down at Revik’s jacketed back. “You are both passing, I guess?”

  “You are not?” Terian said.

  His eyes shifted up for real, looking her over.

  It occurred to him that neither of them had let go of the other, even then. He found himself looking at her sculpted mouth, at her dark hair. Her light blue eyes studied his, their aquamarine color rimmed in a lighter turquoise.

  It was hard to look at her, but once he had, he couldn’t look away.

  “No,” she said, smiling sadly.

  He had nearly forgotten what he had asked her, but now he jerked his eyes off her face, glancing down at the clothes she wore a second time.

  “Ah,” he said. He kept his tone neutral.

  Even so, he felt that anger coil into him again. More than anger. More than jealousy even, although he was startled by the intensity of that emotion alone. Clearly, she was not passing as human. Someone owned her as seer, and was selling her on the street as a common human whore. Fighting to keep his reaction out of his light, at least where she might feel it, he made a vague motion with the hand that still gripped her around the waist.

  “We could take care of that for you,” he said, his voice still off-hand but now a touch harder. “My friend and I. We could take care of that easily, sister…once he can stand up again, that is.” He inclined his head, studying her face. His voice held a touch more steel. “Or I could do it for you now, if you prefer. I would just need to find some place to leave my friend. Preferably some place he’s unlikely to get robbed blind and stripped naked in my absence…”