Did you love the first three installments of my short story series, With His SEAL Team, Parts 1-3? Yeah, they were short, but sizzling hot, right? Well, I’ve wrapped up Part 4. This time, we get to see the story from Hunter’s point of view! If you haven’t read the first three, click on the covers to check them out!
I don’t think Part 4 will be the last, but it depends on you. As always, if you love the story, and want more of my sexy SEALs, all you have to do is let me know! Part 4should be live later tonight or tomorrow. I’ll be sure to update this post with the link when it does! Be looking for it!
Let me know in the comments whether you’ve read any of Sara’s and Hunter’s stories. I’ll choose three winners to gift a copy of their choices of one of the first three installments.
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Read an excerpt from Stepbrothers Stepping Out: With His SEAL Team, Part 4…
I’m Hunter. It’s the name I was born with, and the name my SEAL buddies let me keep, due to my uncanny instinct for finding enemy combatants. I’m not an easy guy to know. Most women might give me a look, but there’s something in my eyes I’ve been told, that makes them wary about coming closer. A hint of violence that only freaks find sexy. Freaks—and Sara, my little sister. Stepsister, that is. Sara never seems to notice I’m a badass.
From day one, when our parents introduced us, she treated me as though I didn’t have a single hard edge and like my silences were invitations for her to speak. She was so chatty and flirty that first day, my dad had laughed his ass off, because he knew I had a certain reputation already, and she was oblivious to the danger. Blissfully so, because she couldn’t help hugging my arm and leaning into me, so happy to have a brother, she’d said, and “I can’t wait to do things with you, Hunt.”
“Hunter,” I’d ground out, not knowing how to shake off the pretty, blonde princess who wore pink from head to toe and had sparkles on her eyelids.
My dad had cleared his throat and given me a warning glare to play nice, but Sara hadn’t noticed how uncomfortable I was. Or, so I’d thought. I just hadn’t figured out how smart she really was, and how much my frowning resistance challenged her.
No, even during that first meet I’d felt a sense of doom weighing on my shoulders as she’d blinked her pink-sparkled lids and given me her wide-eyed stare. Her blue eyes had captured me, and I’d felt like I was falling. Right then, I’d felt my first stirring of arousal for the one girl who should have been completely off-limits.
However, Sara didn’t “do” boundaries. More than once, she’d flounced into my room in her undies to ask to borrow something—a pencil or a hairbrush—then root around my room, turning and bending, making sure I noticed her cute ass or how nicely her tits filled her bra.
Once, she’d even picked the bathroom lock to walk in on me while I’d jacked off. She’d paused in the doorway, then hurried inside, closing the door behind her, while I’d reached for a towel to hide my erection. She’d plopped onto the closed toilet seat and proceeded to tell me I had to let her watch or she’d tell my dad I’d “borrowed” his porn.
Sure she’d lose her nerve, I’d given her a steady glare and continued, all the way until I’d pumped come into the towel. I’d been angry, but also entranced, because while her cheeks had reddened, her nipples had poked against her T-shirt and her breaths had come faster. After that day, I stopped being shocked when she barged in to catch me nude in the shower or in my bed.
Fucking her had been inevitable. And sweeter than anything I’d ever experienced. And although I’d paraded other women in front of her, trying to do the right thing by ending her attraction—even after I’d joined the Navy and become a SEAL, with my own apartment, my separate life—I’d continued to allow her to invade my space. She’d show up at my place, smile at my girlfriends, then wait around for them to leave before doing her best to show me that she was the only girl for me.
When she couldn’t afford her apartment, I’d told her she could stay with me—until she got back on her feet. But she’s never left, and I’ve never asked her to.
Fact is, I need her. She’s my sunshine. When I come back from a mission feeling ready to shred something with my fists, she banishes the darkness. Only she can provide me sweet release from the ghosts that haunt me. She taunts me with lust and bad behavior. Teases me by flirting and fucking my friends.
She knows I like to watch her fuck. What she doesn’t know is that I don’t see them at all. Her face, her ever-changing expressions, fascinate me. Her body, to me, is perfection—supple, light gold skin stretched over tits that make me salivate and an ass that makes me hard when it twitches. Every undulating motion, every quiver and bounce, draws me deeper and deeper into lust for her. That my friends love her, too, is something I’m getting used to.
The way I see it—Sara will never be alone. If, someday, I catch a bullet or stomp on a mine, I know she’ll be devastated, but there will be three men ready to console her, look after her, and love her.
In the meantime, she’s ours to share. An arrangement that naturally progressed from me giving Sara a thrill by allowing my friends to catch glimpses of her naked, to letting them watch her being fucked by me. When I’d invited them to her bed, I’d had reservations, worried that my bond with Sara would be strained, until I’d noted the way she looked at me when she was with them, like this was our foreplay. I love my brothers, but I made it clear from the start that whatever happened was strictly for her pleasure. They were free to play, to enjoy her company, but she’d never be theirs.
Marco, Payton, and now Harley, are all respectful of my claim. They engineer “alone time” for the two of us. Like this morning. At dawn, the three tapped on my door to tell me they were headed to the gym, and then told me which bed Sara occupied.
Marco gave a waggle of eyebrows. “She’s sleeping.”
Which meant she wasn’t, and the game was on.
As I entered Harley’s bedroom, Sara was playing ’possum, pretending she still slept, although she knew that I knew she was faking it.
Now, I wore the smile I knew made her shiver—if she were able to turn and see it. But “little sis” wasn’t in any position to turn, or move in any direction for that matter. I’d found her nude on Harley’s mattress. Not even a sheet covering her body. She lay on her belly, her legs spread, her arms at her sides, and her face turned from the door.
Harley had left the door open, likely at her request. A tease for me. She liked setting up little seductive scenarios. Loved being caught doing something nasty. When Marco, Payton, and I were around, she went to great lengths to give us peeks of her body sure to incite us into acting.
This morning, she and I were alone in the house. So this little scene was meant for me. And I’d taken full advantage, hustling back to my bedroom to dig through my closet for the small duffel filled with items I’d collected for her pleasure.
While she “slept”, I fastened Velcro bonds around her ankles and attached them to rugged canvas bands I hooked to the bedrails, and then slowly tightened them to ease her legs farther apart. I did the same with her wrists, trying not to laugh as she’d muttered and snored, keeping up the act, although I could tell by her shortening breaths and the glaze on her pussy that she was getting very excited.
I’d had a week to hunt for just the right hardware to play out this fantasy while she’d been on a trip I’d paid for her—accompanying Harley on a special cruise for disabled vets. Although I’d urged her to go, every day she’d been gone had been an agony.
I doubted Sara knew how much I’d missed her. How I’d ached for her. No matter how many times I “cleaned my rifle”, I was left wanting. When they’d both returned, looking tanned and wearing lazy smiles, I’d ground my teeth, knowing Marco and Payton wanted a turn with her, too. I’d let them have her—even though it about killed me—because I’d seen the catlike curve of her mouth as she’d mounted Payton while he sat on the couch. I’d tensed the moment Marco came behind her, pushing away her hair to nibble on her shoulder while he’d slowly fed his cock into her ass.
When both men had begun to stroke her, Sara’s gaze had locked with mine, challenge gleaming in her baby-blue gaze. She’d driven me out of my mind—breasts bouncing, her bottom lip swelling as she bit it over and over, her back bowing as she’d come.
Yeah, I liked to watch her having sex with my best friends, but there always came a time where I had to have her to myself, to remind her who she belonged to—heart and sweet, hot pussy.
For Captain Adam Zingh, the mission is simple–acquire one hundred wives for him and his crewmates to help colonize a new planet, far from Dominion rule. Rescuing prisoners from penitentiary in deep space should have been a simple in and out operation. The women would be grateful for a second change at freedom, or so he thought. However, he hadn’t yet encountered the stubborn captain of the prison ship.
When pirates overtake their ship, Evena McClure resists, mindful of her duty to protect the women under her command as well as her impending pardon.
The pirate and the prisoner have only a week to seduce the other side to their will.
Be watching! These titles are coming very, very soon!
Love cowboys? Ready for 12 sexy stories featuring cowboys who are also lawmen? How about a sexy slave auction on a planet far, far, away? Both are coming soon! And both are up for pre-order now! Click the covers to purchase!
Yeah, you have to wait–but I promise it won’t be long…
UPDATE: The winner of the free Amazon gift card is…Karen (#4)!
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Some of you who’ve known me for a while might remember a short story I had out there a while back called “Cowboy.” Just 5000 words and very sexy. A girl who decides to jump the bones of a very sexy cowboy who comes away from the experience with more than she expects.
Well, I’ve been sitting on that old story for a while. I dusted it off. It’s been re-edited, lengthened by a couple thousand words. I think it might be the start of something, but I’ll let you be the judge of that. The story will release on the 23rd. Here’s a peak inside…
Leave a comment and you’ll be entered to win a $5 Amazon.com gift certificate!
Lightning clawed the sky with a crow’s foot, illuminating thick thunderheads that glowed yellow-green and ominous. The color the sky often turned before a tornado twisted its nasty tail. Glad to be out of the rain and safe from the jagged streaks, I shivered against the cool vinyl seat as another flash lashed out like the end of a whip, lighting the sky so intensely that for a moment the darkened parking lot was as bright as high noon.
That was when I saw the pickup roll in towing a large horse trailer. The Ford F-160 ground to a halt beside the diner’s plate-glass window. The driver wasn’t going to bother trying to park it in the flooded lot.
I heard the muffled slam of the truck door when the end of the lightning strike flickered out, plunging the parking lot back into darkness. The driver would be soaked to the skin before he even hit the door. The distance was only twelve feet, but the rain was coming down in sheets. I’d been lucky, arriving before the worst of the storm struck. Mostly dry, I peered through the window at the deepening night, waiting for a lull before continuing my journey home.
Earlier, I’d read the clouds as well as any West Texas native could and headed to the nearest shelter. The tiny diner with its 70’s style brick façade, split vinyl bench seats, and chipped, laminated table tops was a welcome haven. The attached string of dingy motel rooms was part of Plan B, if the storm didn’t wane before midnight.
My arrival had been nearly forty minutes ago. Except for a bored waitress smoking a cigarette at a far table, I was the only customer. Until now.
The door squeaked open, and a cowboy strode inside. He pulled off his cream-colored hat and shook shaggy dark brown hair like a dog, sending droplets of water lashing against the glass door. His white T-shirt, soaked almost to transparency, clung to the hills and hollows of sharply defined muscles along his chest and abdomen.
I straightened in my seat, eyeing his tall, lean frame, liking what I saw. Instant lust drew me, stripping away my usual reticence with strangers. He wasn’t just my type, he could freaking set the mold. I licked my lips.
Setting his cowboy hat on the table, the deeply tanned man sank into a booth near the door, his expression a study in irritation. Dark brows drawn in a fierce frown, his lips crimped in a thin line.
This cowboy needed a reason to smile.
I pursed my lips and let out a low whistle. His green gaze sliced my way, taking away my breath. One dark eyebrow rose, his gaze sharpening, giving my face and chest a quick sweep.
His glance locked with mine again, and I figured I didn’t look exactly Coyote Ugly. Feeling brazen as hell, I smiled. “’Fraid you’ll melt?”
The corner of his mouth curled—just a slight easing of tension I found promising.
“I’m not that fragile,” he drawled.
I liked the raw texture of his voice—a scratchy rumble that started deep in his chest and scraped upward. Already I could imagine it softening to a rasp when he whispered. “Seein’ as we’re the only ones here, cowboy, wanna join me?”
With a nod, he gripped the top edge of the bench seat to haul himself up, giving me an interesting view of flexing biceps. He set his cowboy hat back on his head and sauntered my way. The easy roll of his hips and the dull clap of his boots on the tiled floor heightened the little flame of awareness growing inside me. The man certainly filled out a pair of blue jeans.
My gaze dipped only a moment, taking in the oversized belt buckle and the equally impressive bulge at the front of his pants before sliding up to cling to his mossy-green eyes, the corners wrinkling as he narrowed his gaze.
Something about him seemed familiar, like maybe we’d met once a long time ago. Only I knew I’d never forget someone like him. I shook my head, guessing I wanted a connection to this man that didn’t exist—something to make the plan unfolding in my mind a little less outrageous.
His eyelids dipped then widened, a subtle once-over that left my breasts tingling and my thighs tightening.
He nodded toward the window. “Storm catch you, too?”
So he was willing to exchange small talk to extend our encounter while he politely studied me to figure out where I was leading him and whether he was willing to be led.
I’d never considered myself especially easy, but I was quick to make up my mind when I saw something I wanted. Something I had to have—and this cowboy, I definitely had to have. “I don’t mind the storm. I needed a break anyway,” I said, trying to keep our conversation light and flowing. Soon enough, I’d figure out if he was ripe for a little more than flirting.
He continued to stare—at my hair and my breasts, again—until I warmed past the need to be cool. “You change your mind? Or you gonna have a seat?”
His soft snort, so typically male, plucked at my nipples. But he slid into the bench opposite me, stretching his bare arms wide across the top of the vinyl, all that lovely muscle and the shadows of his small male nipples coming into prominence with the stretch of thin, wet opaque cotton. “Travel far?” he asked, the texture of his voice deepening to a sexy growl.
Again, I pressed my thighs together, enjoying the slowly building heat. “From Atlanta.”
“Much farther to go?”
“Home’s just down the road a piece.”
He cleared his throat. “My name’s Da—”
“Cowboy,” I interrupted him, setting the rules of this game.
Interest flickered in his eyes. He nodded slowly and lifted his hat from his head to rake thick long fingers through his black-brown hair. “Am I gonna call you ‘lady’?”
I gave him a cheeky grin. “My name’s Carly.” My middle name. I’d used anonymity before when I’d been on the prowl. Kept a little mystery to heighten a man’s interest. “I saw you pull up with that horse trailer.”
“I took a string of horses to auction. I’m headin’ home now.” He sounded tired, but his steady stare told me he was waiting to see how this game played out.
I hated the awkward silence that followed, as though we’d run out of polite conversation. At this point, I had to cut or run. I cleared my throat. “So, it looks like we’re both stuck here for awhile…” I let my voice trail off.
His gaze sharpened, and I felt my bluster begin to fade. Had I been too bold?
“Look…” He glanced around. “I don’t know what you have in mind, but our options seem a little limited, sweetheart.”
The rusty rasp of his voice didn’t hold a single note of hesitation. He wasn’t pulling away. His gaze remained steady; curiosity gleamed—and maybe there was a little hint of challenge.
Something I never backed away from. I nibbled on my bottom lip, satisfied when his glance dropped to watch. My confidence restored, I arched a brow. “You don’t appear to be a man with a lack of imagination.”
“Not something I’ve ever been accused of,” he murmured. “But I generally like a little comfort for my partner.” He leaned over the table and whispered. “Something soft underneath her back or her knees.”
Saturday’s here! And I’m letting myself slack off a bit today. Sure, I’ll write my NaNo words, but I’m not going to do much more. I’m definitely not going to sit in front of the computer all day. A certain 9-year-old wants a special day, which to her mind includes popcorn, a movie, and me spending the night. Should be fun!
I’m featuring Tarzan & Janine today. It’s a very funny story, co-written by my sister, Elle James, and myself. We’d written the first draft eons ago, but real life intruded and we let it languish. Our mother insisted we resurrect it. She’d been waiting years for us to finish the darn thing. 🙂 Hope you enjoy the excerpt!
I’ll post the winner of today’s contest Monday morning!
Post a comment and you’ll be entered to win a free download of this book!
See what happens when a secret billionaire and an aspiring actress get a little wild in Texas!
A man with a soft spot for women…
Closet Texas millionaire, Tanner Peschke has three months to prove he can make a profit at the family used car dealership or he will lose his job, disappoint his father and break his promise to his dying mother. The root of his problem is women. He can’t resist them—any of them. All it takes is the scent of delicate perfume or a misty-eyed gaze from an elderly woman with a sob story, and he becomes silly putty in the hands of his feminine customers. Until, with a stroke of luck and a buck of a mechanical bull, he hires Janine Davis to star with him in the dealership’s live TV ads.
A woman who won’t let a handsome cowboy get in the way of her dream…
Determined to make a name for herself, Janine needs to pay the bills between acting jobs. The offer to do a series of commercials for Peschke Motors is a chance to get her face “out there”. Recognizing a player when she sees one, Janine agrees to co-star with her handsome employer fully intending to keep their relationship strictly professional. First break she gets, she’s heading to Hollywood.
Their jungle-themed commercials take a crazy twist, and Tanner finds himself falling…from a sales banner while chasing a monkey. But more importantly, he’s falling for Janine. She’s just the one woman to tame this cowboy’s wild heart. Convincing her to stay with him might be harder than catching a mischievous monkey.
After the first commercial Tanner and Janine shoot, they’re local a sensation. Customers and news crews crowd the car showroom, and Barbara Stockton, a cougar who reneged on a deal with Tanner and fired Janine shows up just when Tanner thinks he’s got things under control…
Barbara let go of Tanner’s arm, a smile curling her blood-red lips. “I want to offer her a job.”
Tanner’s stomach completed a full gainer and he blurted out, “I’m sorry, but she’s working for me through the summer.”
The beauty maven’s professionally arched brows rose. “Do you have a contract?”
“Well, it’s under revision…” Revision, hell. Tanner hadn’t even considered a contract. He’d never hired an actress before Janine. What kind of contract did actresses need?
Barbara’s fingernail scraped across Tanner’s shoulder in a long, slow slide. Her lips puffed out all sultry-like, reminding Tanner of when he’d been inside her hotel suite being sized up as the next meat course on her table. “I feel badly about firing her last weekend, and I want to make it up to her.”
Tanner stepped away from the woman, his eyes narrowing. “She’s not interested.”
“Why don’t we let her decide?” Barbara insisted.
“I promise you, Janine is not interested.” Tanner held back his anger and panic. Janine was turning out to be a gold mine, and he didn’t want anyone else staking a claim on her…talents. Read the rest of this entry »
To prove her love and save her man, she has to go above
and beyond the call of duty
SEAL Francis McKade never acted on his feelings for his best friend’s sister. All that changes at a wedding in Hawaii, but the next morning, he’s called for a mission-one that leaves his world in shambles.
Months later, Kade shows up in her bar a changed man. When he pushes her to her limits in the bedroom, Shannon refuses to back down. One way or another, he’ll learn there’s no walking away from love—not while she still has breath in her body.
Two Navy SEALs jeopardize their lives and hearts in a battle-torn land when they vie for the love of one sexy Night Stalker helicopter pilot
SEAL Reed Tucker doesn’t believe in commitment, until he tangles the sheets with one hot pilot, Delaney O’Connell. His phobia against commitment is challenged when his best friend asks Delaney to marry him.
As a helicopter pilot for the 160th Night Stalkers, Delaney knows the risks of loving a SEAL. When her lover’s friend loses an arm in battle, she can’t refuse his marriage proposal when he’s already lost so much. In love with one man, pledged to marry another, she’s torn.
Tuck and Delaney must come to grips with the happiness they owe themselves and the happiness of their friend who has lost so much.
A SEAL’s nightmare of a promise given at his sister’s deathbed
gives him the woman of his dreams
Special Operator Nick Dunn gets the call he has been dreading since before his last deployment. His sister is in her final stages of cancer. He drives up to Sonoma County from Coronado to help her shut down her failing nursery business and tie up her final affairs. He must work with his sister’s best friend he only vaguely remembers from his past. But boy has she grown up. Devon Brandeburg has created a small financial fortune through her success in real estate. Her career is her main focus, but a closely guarded secret is her total lack of experience with men. After all, who needs them? Especially when their testosterone-stuffed egos suck all the air out of the room, like Nick’s does. Nick’s sister requires two things of the both of them as her dying wish. What starts as a deathbed promise turns out to be a hot affair neither one expected. Nick becomes Devon’s teacher in her journey to womanhood. As she comes alive in his arms, the student brings the teacher something he’s never allowed himself to want, and now knows he needs.
A pampered travel agent escapes through the jungle with an undercover DEA agent when a drug lord mistakes her for a rival’s daughter
After surviving a week of anti-terrorist training in a Central American jungle, Maya Cordoba is ready to kick off the mud from her designer boots after she hijacks her sexy driving instructor. Instead, she finds herself staring down the barrel of an AK-47and being kidnapped! Mistaken for a rival drug lord’s daughter she knows if they learn she’s not who they think she is—she’s dead.
Rescue comes from ex-marine and undercover DEA agent, Angel Rickman. He promises to get her out as long as she does everything he tells her to. Together, they make a mad dash through the jungle with the drug cartel’s army on their tails.
When the boss’s pregnant, unwed daughter needs rescuing, disabled Marine Grafton Parks proves he’s still a hero
Kendall Herrington is drawn to her handsome new security guard, prosthetic hand and all. The man is totally wrong for her, but on a lonely Christmas night, she gives in to her body’s demands, regret setting in on the morning after.
Former EOD Marine Grafton Parks knows Kendall is resisting admitting she’s pregnant and that the board won’t allow an unwed, pregnant female to run the multi-billion dollar Herrington Corporation. Even if she is the boss’s daughter.
As they struggle to come to terms with each other, an unexpected danger threatens their lives. Will they survive long enough for him to be…Her Forever Hero?
A weekend liberty leads to unexpected passion between a Marine and his best friend’s sister, but he must survive seven months in Afghanistan to get back to her
Marine Gunnery Sergeant John “Crash” O’Malley has two goals. Enjoy his liberty in New York City, and survive his deployment to Afghanistan. What he didn’t plan on is Trish. A guy can’t have a one-night stand with his best friend’s sister and then abandon her at midnight when his liberty ends, but starting a new relationship days before shipping out would be crazy.
Crash doesn’t realize his friend’s displeasure over him breaking the ‘no sisters rule’ is nothing compared to what the insurgents have in store for them in the Helmand Province. Now, Crash’s new objective is to get home alive and make Trish his.
The winner of the download, by random number generator is, Charlene!
Charlene, congrats and be sure to email me to arrange delivery of your story!
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Have to be quick! My satellite’s been mostly out last night and this morning due to storm activity. No, we haven’t seen a twister, but there’s cloud cover and we just had a hellacious thunderstorm. So no time to chat!
Enjoy the excerpt, then follow the links to the other Snippeteers’ websites for more!
If you post a comment today, you’ll be entered to win a free download of this short story!
A little peek deserves a little punishment…
Afraid to spoil their friendship, Emily is reluctant to act on her attraction to the two sexy men next door. However, when she’s caught spying on them, the men decide a little punishment is in order…
Beads of condensation, glittering jewel-like in the sputtering candlelight, ran in rivulets down the sides of Jason’s ice-cold beer.
Detail I shouldn’t have been able to note, given the fact I was thirty feet away.
As I lowered my nephew’s toy binoculars, I reflected that I had indeed sunk to a new low. You see, my bedroom window conveniently overlooked Jason and Robert’s backyard. A fact that probably never registered with the previous tenants, but one that proved too delicious to ignore after the arrival of the handsome duo. Privacy fencing, which ran down to the pier that jutted into the lake, separated the row of houses where we lived. It was high enough the neighbors on either side of ours couldn’t see into their yard, but lucky me—I had the perfect view.
Upon discovering this, I had began a furtive surveillance. One that had me cringing in embarrassment each time I greeted them in passing and feeling even more ashamed when we struck up a friendship.
We’d shared meals, drinks, late afternoon swims, watched football games together on their wide-screen TV. And still, I peeked into their backyard, waiting for those moments when they popped outside to mow the lawn or catch a few summer rays. Their bodies gleamed with sweat while raw lust warred inside me, along with the fear that I’d mess up our relationship if I let the guys know how I really felt.
My convenient perch on the windowsill afforded me a window into their private lives, and from the very beginning, I was hooked. They’d become an obsession, one frustrated by the fact they treated me like a kid sister, rather than a woman one of them might desire.
And therein lay another problem. I’d resisted the urge to seek a deeper relationship because then I’d have to choose. My libido was completely fickle, lusting after Jason’s muscled physique, then sighing over the possibilities of what Robert’s tall, bony frame and large feet hinted at. That their personalities were perfect bookends, fierce and funny, confused my heart as well.
Lucky, lucky me. I licked the sweat gathering on my upper lip while this night one of the handsome men living next door tilted his bottle and took several long sips. The look of pure bliss that softened his otherwise stern features made my chest ache.
I watched the movement of Jason’s throat as he worked it down, imagining him sipping at my overheated flesh. My skin began to tingle. My nipples beaded, crowding uncomfortably against my lace bra. My thighs clenched as a delicious wash of arousal seeped to wet the crotch of my plain panties.
The sigh he emitted as he set the bottle on the table was echoed by my own painful groan. Watching either of them had never caused my heart to skip a beat like that hint of a moan sliding on the tail of Jason’s long exhalation.
Sure, it was hotter than hell out there. I too felt the effects of the enervating heat. Record temperatures had strained the region’s resources and planned service interruptions began that night. But something about that sigh felt…un-subtle, exaggerated, maybe even dramatic. And Jason was too straightforward a man for that.
I blotted sweat from my forehead, asking myself again, What am I doing?
Only this time, my peeping hadn’t been deliberate. I’d rushed home from work and showered quickly to beat the scheduled brown-out. Then I’d stripped to my underwear, pulled back the curtains, and opened the window, hoping for a breeze to cool my skin. Sitting limply on the sill, I waited for the world to flicker into life again.
That’s when I’d noticed him, sitting in a lounge chair alone in the dark.
He wore his usual work “uniform”—khaki trousers, white shirt and a tie. Tonight, the tie hung loosened and askew, his collar opened beneath it.
Despite the lack of electricity, I could see it all. Moonlight silvered his dark hair and reflected bright as a beacon against the white shirt. The golden light from the large Citronella candle leant warmth to his skin and the amber bottle he held between his hands.
As always, he was lovely to watch, but tonight, his expression drew my attention more than his breath-stealing features. A sullen slanting of his brows, a bit of pout plumping his masculine lips, an edgy energy to his slight movements—he was either irritated or aroused.
Wanting an answer to the “either-or,” I watched. My forte is observation; my people-radar exquisitely tuned to body language and a voice’s tonal cues. My curiosity and my lust were caught. No way could I back away from my window now.
The bottle tapped the table as he set it aside. A long-fingered hand tugged the knot of his tie, dragging it from his neck.
When he began to undo the row of buttons down the front of his shirt, I settled deeper on the sill, leaning closer, but taking care to keep my pale body hidden behind the sheer curtain.
The edges of the shirt parted over a broad, nicely muscled chest. My gaze zeroed in on taut lean abs dusted with dense fur the same color as his close-cropped black hair that stretched nipple to nipple then ran along a thin dark line to slip beneath his zipper.
His hand stroked his chest, scratching through the hair, the faint crinkling sound causing my own chest to tighten, my nipples to surge.
A light sheen of sweat glimmered on his chest and belly. Again, my tongue swept my lips, tasting salt, and I imagined I lapped the dew right off his skin.
When a lazily roaming hand slid over his belly, I tensed, fascinated as he swept the flat plane. Would he be hard or desk-soft? His stomach looked firm. So, I enjoyed fantasizing that he was and touched my own stomach, following his path.
His hand slid down to the knot bulging behind his fly, and he cupped it. Squeezed.
My own hands itched to replace his and grew still, clenching against the fantasy of holding his burgeoning cock as it roused. My cheeks heated and my breaths shortened. No need to tease my own body into arousal, moisture already soaked my panties.
The buckle clanked open, and the belt slid sinuously from the loops as he lifted his hips and pulled it free. A flick of his thumb and the button at the waistband of his trousers opened. His zipper rasped as it slid down.
Dark fabric formed a vee-like shadow as his hand rooted beneath his waist, and then he slipped the long, gleaming column of his semi-aroused sex from the flap at the front of his boxers and wrapped his fingers around it.
I swallowed the liquid pooling in my mouth. I blinked to moisten eyes that had grown dry and scratchy as I stared, wide-eyed. My breaths grew ragged, a little choked, and I must have made a noise, because suddenly his head swung my way.
His gaze narrowed on my bedroom window.
Holding my breath, I froze, hoping his gaze couldn’t penetrate the darkness.
But a crooked smile slowly stretched his lips, and his hand tightened around himself and began to pump up and down the thickening rod. All the while, he stared at me.
Jason knew I watched but didn’t seem to mind. I let out a deep, trembling breath and continued to stare, my own body heating, growing increasingly aroused in tandem with his hardening cock.
His head turned away, and his hand dropped from his engorged cock. It fell against his belly with a soft, muffled thud. Heavy, hot, thick—I knew its girth would stretch my mouth.
Another sound intruded. The chime of my doorbell. I bit back a curse and drew away from the window, slung on my robe, then headed downstairs to the front door.
Robert stood on the stoop, a lazy grin on his face, a sweep of lank blonde hair covering one eye and two beers dangling from his fingers. He was shirtless. Low-riding, blue knee-length shorts encased slender hips and revealed long legs. His large feet were bare. “Thought you might like to join us.”
“Us?” A pinch grabbed my belly and I repeated stupidly, dragging my glance upward again to lock with his.
“Jason and I?” His head tilted, and his pale blue eyes studied me.
Did he know what Jason was up to? He hadn’t been in the back yard. Maybe he didn’t know and the invitation was issued without a carnal subtext.
Not like I hadn’t enjoyed a beer or dinner at their place before, but those times had always been a “friend thing.”
“Are you okay? You look a little flushed.” The teasing glint in his eyes, and more, the narrowed focus of his stare, told me he knew exactly what I’d seen. His gaze slid beyond my shoulder into my darkened living room. “Keep us company until the lights come on?”
The Random Number Generator chose entry #15! Congrats, Melissa Porter! Send me an email to arrange delivery of your prize!
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I’ve written quite a few short stories. I like the fact I can write one in just a couple of days. When I’m experimenting with a genre, a quick 4,000-words is enough to let me move inside another world and try it on. Some of them I sell to publishers who need short stories like Cleis Press or for one of the Mammoth Books. Not everyone will run to buy a collection of short stories just to see what I have written, so I am starting to pull those shorties together into their own collections. This was my first collection. I’ll release another, hopefully next month. Enjoy this snippet from another of my “experiments.” Can you guess what my naked man from the sea really is?
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From National Bestselling Author, Delilah Devlin, comes a naughty collection of seven bedtime stories for a week’s worth of nighttime reading pleasure —a little “som-som” to inspire sexy dreams or a one-handed orgasm, or to be read to a partner and enjoyed together.
Witness one woman’s desperate attempt to seduce her busy husband in “Lily’s Last Stand”. In “Nip ‘n’ Tuck” follow a shy seamstress’s adventures with an online suitor that doesn’t go quite as planned. Dive into “Dreaming by the Sea” where a woman with a mysterious past is surprised by a lover who strides naked from the ocean to claim her. An adventurous Victorian nurse learns the pleasures of steam-driven technology in “Dr.Mullaley’s Cure”. A New York commuter shares lustful daydreams of with another subway passenger in “The Morning Ride”. A woman finds the limits of her inhibitions tested in a one-night stand in “All About Me”. In “The Obedient Wife”, find out what really happened between The Beauty and the Beast. Hint: It’s not your children’s fairytale!
From “Dreaming By The Sea” from Strokes
Sea foam lathered the jagged rocks along the shore, each lap sounding like a soapy caress. A sensual sound that fired my imagination to think about things I hadn’t since…well, in a very long time.
Frustrated with the elusive memory, I turned my face into the wind and enjoyed the way it whipped at my hair and the nightgown I’d thrown on over my underwear before making the trek down to the beach. The way the light played at the edge of the horizon had proved too much temptation for me to stay inside the cabin hugging the side of the cliff.
The air was cool with an underlying note of humid heat. Cloying enough to make the silk stick to my skin, but I didn’t care. No one was there to see my slinky nightgown mold my body. I hadn’t wanted to dress since I rose from bed that morning. One of the perks of being a writer. I’d worked without a break all day, but now needed to clear the cobwebs before I headed back into my story.
I strode beside the water, jumping back to avoid the tidal fingers that seeped between the rocks lining the shore to rush across the sand. I headed to the small pool the ebbing tide left every day to see the treasures the sea deposited for me to admire.
Or so I liked to think. Not that I ever took them home. I hadn’t the courage to wet my fingers in the brine. An old phobia—one I wasn’t sure where it started.
Tall, sharp-edged boulders framed the opening where the water rushed into the pool. Peering into the water, I lay on my stomach on a flat rock above the pool. I edged closer and closer, tempted to trail my fingers in the silky saltwater. An orange starfish, bits of broken shell, a long thin strand of seaweed were all that filled the pool. Still, I stared, wishing I were braver.