Excerpts
From FRENCH Twist
“Baby, you’re up to your beautiful brown eyes in shit.” Don leaned against the office door frame, his arms crossed over his chest as if that could control his temper.
Claudette gave him one of her typical French sniffs. Chicks from Marseille had one hell of a disposition, he decided for about the twentieth time since he’d been forced to work with her.
“Bonjour, Monsieur Hobbs. It is nice to see you, too, this beautiful morning.” Again with the sniff. He’d enjoy nothing more than spanking the firm ass of his unwanted assistant, but figured she’d rat him out to her Uncle Paul.
“Glad you’re able to relax with a ton of that reeking stuff parked in the front yard.” Don blinked and shoved his glasses up his nose, forcing his eyes away from her long legs stretched across the scarred desktop. Just once, he wished, she’d have a little decorum and wear slacks to work. “Do you have plans to do something with it?”
“Mon ami, you make too much of small things.” Claudette crossed one knee over the other and didn’t bother to tug down her short red skirt. Don swallowed hard. She sniffed again and held her hand at arm’s length, inspecting her nails. That irritating, hoity-toity attitude of hers had to go. “Plus, you exaggerate. I simply checked one of the little boxes on the form and mailed it to the supplier. He obviously made the mistake, if what you say is truth.”
He slapped the side of the desk to get her undivided attention. Right then he’d do anything to erase the image of those well toned calves wrapped around his neck. Dammit, why were French women so sexy?
“No, doll, there’s literally a ton of cow dung right out there on the circular drive.” He hooked a thumb over his shoulder, his other hand nudging her legs aside to grab a sheaf of papers. “I don’t know what the hell you ordered, but that’s what you got. So what’s your plan, baby? I happen to have a shovel in your size.”
Her chair skated back, just short of hitting the bookcase. Gritting her teeth, she tossed the little glass nail file she’d been using onto a stack of papers and stood.
“Do not treat me like a stupid woman–.” Cheeks flaming, she got right into his face. “Or your wife.”
“One, you’re not stupid. You only like to pretend you are.” He ticked the points off the fingers on his free hand. “Two, thank God I don’t have a wife. With my bad luck, she might have been just like you.”
She glared at him for one intense second before she jerked the order form from his hand.
“You, monsieur, need to be taught manners.”
“You, mademoiselle, need a good spanking.”
A coy smile tweaked the corners of her pouty, full lips. “That may be so, you uptight Américain, but this is not the time to discuss my sexual preferences.”
From FRENCH Delights
The harsh light beat down on him, casting a long lean shadow as it hid his strong features beneath a wide straw hat. He dipped the brim lower, almost as if he took pleasure in teasing her. His body moved in time to the steady beat of the sensual music playing in her mind. She mouthed the lyrics to a song she’d often heard from her parents’ bedroom, You can leave your hat on. A knowing smile tugged at her lips. She leaned back in the overstuffed chair, her hands resting on the threadbare arms, ready to appreciate yet another of his magnificent shows.
Each afternoon he performed, and each afternoon she’d cut short any appointments to have a front row seat and watch his striptease. A delicious habit she had become addicted to.
Lisette stared straight ahead, fascinated as the stud began his routine.
He flexed his arms and she pressed her thighs together, enjoying the pressure that built between her legs. His muscles flexed as he undid the first two buttons on his blue chambray shirt. He turned sideways, just enough to build the anticipation of baring his muscular chest.
The Chippendales had nothing on him, she thought scooting to the edge of her chair, grateful for the darkness in the room that shrouded her.
The stiff red lace on her bra pressed into her swollen breasts. She rolled her shoulders to make the fit more comfortable, but it did nothing to relive the tingle in her nipples.
She undid the first three buttons on her blouse, mimicking his actions. Her imagination raced at the thought of his long fingers on her. Pretending it was his, she dipped a finger down her cleavage. Her breath came in short pants and echoed in the now silent room.
He tugged his shirttails from his slacks in a smooth move that exposed his sharply defined abs. Droplets of sweat glistened on his bronze flesh as he lowered the shirt from his body. Lisette watched, her eyes glued to the beads as they crawled down his back, delving below his waistband. She swiped her tongue over her parched lips, wishing she could lap up every single drop.
Neatly, he folded the worn cloth then bent and laid it at his feet. His languid movements a beautiful torture to this single woman. He allowed his hat to roll off his head and down his arm then placed it on the shirt. His black ponytail brushed against the thick column of his neck. The loose ends of the thin leather strip holding his lion’s mane in place grazed the small white scar on his shoulder.
He stretched his arms high in the air then arced them downward and rested his hands at the small of his back. Slowly, he swiveled his upper body from side to side. She licked her lips again as she stared at his dark brown nipples, tight and pointy.
His muscles rippled as he bent over to do something with his black work boots. The material of his worn khaki slacks pulled tight across his perfect ass, accentuating the outline of his large balls. Perspiration moistened her skin as she thought about cupping him in her hand, maybe even taking a small taste. She brushed at a strand of hair that had worked loose from her plastic clip, not wanting to miss one second of this perfect man in action.
He stood then tugged on his belt at the exact location her hand itched to stuff a wad of paper euros. She shrugged out of her blouse, her body heat too hot to bear the thin fabric.
She traced an index finger around her puckered nipple, squeezing her thighs tight together. The need to release the orgasm pounding in her trembling body intensified.
Lisette stood and lifted her hair off her damp neck, swaying her hips in time with his. Her eyes closed for a brief moment as she reveled in the fantasy of his hard body pressing her onto a bed. She opened her eyes to see his bright sapphire gaze watching her. A knowing smile played on his full lips.
He easily hoisted a large shovel with one hand, swinging the handle up close to his flat stomach. He wrapped his hands around the black metal, shoving the tip into a dirt pile. His ass thrust forward as the blade burrowed in deeper then he tossed the soil under an almost dead tree. With every repeat of the sexy movement, his speed increased and her temperature climbed until the little hill was gone.
“Way to move that spade, baby.” Her hands shook as she combed her fingers through the tangled strands of her long hair.
The need to feel him inside her coiled through her body and settled in her dripping sex. She slid her skirt over her hips, allowing it to puddle to the floor. With one arm wrapped tight across her breasts, she skimmed her other hand down until it reached the soft flesh of her abdomen. She traced the lacy band of her wet thong until she slid her fingers beneath the silky triangle that covered her mound. Soft moans escaped her dry throat as she glided two fingers lower through the damp hairs. Expertly she parted the slick folds of her swollen labia, begging for a man’s tongue to lap between them.
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From FRENCH Tart
“Ooh la la, Mademoiselle, voulez-vous à la baise?”
Donatienne’s running shoes squeaked to a halt on the cracked, gray linoleum. Fuck him? She didn’t fuck just anyone, especially if she didn’t know his name.
“Not unless you have more money than I could ever dream of, you pig.” She refused to turn back toward the crackly voice.
“What? Is your pussy made from gold?”
She gritted her teeth. Insolent bastard.
“Yes, it is. And equipped with a set of rusty fangs to rip off anything that tries to get inside.” Smartass answers weren’t her best first impression at the haute cuisine cooking school she’d waited so long to attend. She had to shake the lowlife who thought he could get away with insults before Chef tossed her out.
Ignore him. Just keep moving. Doni straightened her shoulders and walked past the double door refrigerator.
“Perhaps you prefer to give Pierre a blow job. He would make it worth your time.” A cackle filled the air. “Come on, baby. You know you want me, you slut.”
The fine hairs at the nape of her neck jumped to attention. Doni whirled around, swinging out her arm. She launched her heavy tote at the dumpy man in the splattered apron planted in front of the stainless steel stove.
Ooof.
A satisfying sound to Doni’s ears as her bag connected with his diaphragm and he buckled.
She sprinted a dozen steps toward him, punching air until her fists mashed into his doughy flesh. He shot out his hands. She dodged to the right, away from his reach. Her feet slipped on the waxed floor. Flailing her arms, she grabbed for anything handy. Crash. A white cloud billowed up, blinding her. They fell to the floor with Doni on top, tangled in a mass of apron and legs.
“Protect your balls. Protect your balls. The slut is crazy.”
“I’ll show you crazy, you miserable warped bastard.” In a flash her self-defense class tactics took over. She shoved her knee up hard enough to be sure he’d never father a child.
“Shut up, Pierre.” The man choked as she tightened her fingers around his flabby throat. His watery, almond shaped eyes pleaded with her. “Mademoiselle, stop. I beg you.”
“Too late.” A coarse laugh rang out, carried on a flutter of breeze that did little to cool her anger. “She got you.”
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From Francine on Fire
Chapter One
Francine tugged the strap of her bulky carry-on bag over her shoulder, using a little hip action to help sling it back into place. Exhausted from her nine hour trans-Atlantic flight, she positioned the hotel keycard at the slot and considered how much a hot bath would help her relax, maybe even make it easier to adjust to the new time zone. The case bounced against the door and it sprang open. Not afraid, but aware a woman alone needed to be careful, she nudged the heavy oak with her shoulder and looked inside the suite.
No sounds came from within, but the sun shone through the lacy sheers spreading an intricate web of light and shadow across the dark blue carpet. She gingerly stepped into the living room and scanned the area as she headed toward the dark wooden desk. Her overloaded garment bag caught on the thick nap as she dragged it behind. She jerked it free and snapped off one of the plastic wheels, then swore under her breath.
An involuntary shiver ran up her spine. She blew out a puff of air and white wisps drifted toward the ceiling. This will never do. With a thud her carry-on hit the floor and she pivoted around the room, searching for the thermostat. Not seeing one, she walked toward what should have been the bedroom and caught her reflection in a gilt framed mirror. Long flights were not her friend, she thought, fingering the spikes into place.
She pushed open what had to have been the bedroom door to be welcomed by every healthy woman’s fantasy. Standing at the top of a ladder the longest pair of muscular legs were spread wide, covered in designer jeans pulled snug across a perfect ass. The kind she’d like to see naked. Maybe grab a handful of, if he wouldn’t mind. Her nipples tightened and she continued to stare at the firm rear of the athletic caliber. The added treat came when the man leaned deeper into the wall and the outline of his dick pressed against the supple cloth. So much for minimum wage and workers in uniforms, she thought, shifting her stance, anything to work loose her thong glued to her clit.
All thoughts of hot water and bubbles were drained from her mind. In its place a long forgotten heat coiled in her abdomen. The desire to spend some quality time in bed, and forget about adjusting to anything except her legs wrapped around the narrow waist above that delicious looking ass, brought a shameless smile to her lips.
She massaged her temples. Had it really been so long that she lusted after the tight ass of a complete stranger? She mentally slapped herself in the head. There wasn’t time for nonsense, didn’t want or need it. During her short trip to Germany she had to do a favor for Teddi and conduct business. That. Was. All.
“Fritz, Reichen Sie mich der größere Schraubenschlüssel.” A rich baritone voice echoed in the heat duct, snapping her back to reality.
“Sorry, can’t help you, I don’t speak German.” A young Giorgio Armani look alike, right down to the suntan, freed his broad shoulders from the cavity in the wall then turned and looked down on her. The smile wiped itself from her face as she stared into the gray eyes of a young god. Very young, by her standards.
“I asked my colleague for a wrench.” He cocked an eyebrow and studied her. His eyes traveled slowly over her face then down her body, stopping at her crossed arms before they continued down her legs. She had the distinct impression he saw through her clothing and approved of the lacy red demi bra and thong hidden beneath her navy mock turtleneck and slacks.
“And you are?”
“The occupant of this damned icebox.”
*****
“Pixie” popped into Heicke’s mind as he looked at the petite woman with the spiky red hair and creamy skin. He clutched the rough wood as the ladder teetered, realizing he could become hypnotized by her deep green, almond shaped eyes if he were not careful.
“American?” Wasn’t he the master of conversation? But no woman had ever pole axed him like this one. Somehow, he knew she would balk if he told her he had this immediate need to kiss her moist pink lips. Maybe if she stopped licking her mouth he could concentrate. Better yet, if his damned schwanz would return to its normal size then maybe his imagination would too.
She smiled and her full lips separated to show off a set of even, pearly whites with a tiny space between the front teeth. Very elflike. He grinned in return, excited for the first time in what seemed years by the freshness of her. But she seemed a bit nervous as she gnawed on her kissable lower lip.
“Gee, what gave me away?” She brushed a feathery strand of hair from her flushed cheekbone. “The accent or the clothes?”
“I have seen many people pass through this hotel and am able to correctly guess their nationality. It is a little game I play with myself.” He climbed down the ladder as his cock got harder thinking about a game it would like to play. “The front desk should not have assigned this room until we had corrected the electrical problems with the heating system.”
“Apparently no one told them there were workers in here.” She stepped back, even though the several meters separating them seemed like more than enough space.
A whiff of light cologne wrapped around him.
Honig? Definitely honey, he decided, drawing in a deep breath.
“Will it be long before the furniture thaws out?”
He looked down on her and had the intense urge to wrap his arms around her and… What? Protect her? And from what? A surprising awareness he had never before experienced. Fuck a woman, yes and he was damned good at it, but never once had he ever had the desire to protect a female.
“It would not take long if my colleague would get himself back here with the proper tools I need.” Although in his opinion, Fritz could have gone on an extended holiday and Heicke would not have minded. He looked up when he heard the room door close.
“Bitte, Es tut ich Leid für Nehmen damit lang. ” Fritz stopped short in his weak explanation for being gone so long and eyed Pixie as she tugged her lightweight beige jacket across her breasts.
Brave bastard.
Heicke folded his arms across his chest as he made a mental note to talk with him later about his behavior toward hotel guests. He shook his head, needing to return his mind to the project at hand, instead of watching the delightful view of her nipples pressing against her knit top.
“Geben Sie mir den Schraubenschlüssel.“ Heicke held out his hand and Fritz dropped the wrench into it. “That is all, Fritz. I think you are needed at the front desk.”
The handyman turned to leave, but not before he took another bold look at Pixie and secured his dismissal papers.
After the door closed, Heicke glanced toward her as she bent and gathered up her battered luggage. A nice heart-shaped little ass he would enjoy patting popped up.
“It’s back to the lobby and see about another room.” She glanced back over her shoulder and grinned. “Good luck on conquering the in-house icemaker.”
Damn, she had a great smile.
“Wait.” Now why in the hell did he do that? He had a long standing rule about hotel guests and he would not alter it. “The air problem will be repaired in a matter of moments. There is no need for you to leave.”
She straightened, her free hand on her hip, and ran her eyes down his body. Damn, he liked a cocky woman.
“No, I think it’s best I leave you to your work.”
With a swish of her shapely hips, she was gone.
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From Lonnie Heats Up
Chapter One
“What the…” Wolfe ducked as slush spewed against the back of his helmet and ice slithered beneath his collar, along his neck. He had pulled onto the wide shoulder, to rest after the long day’s drive, staring across the Alps in deep thought, when an approaching vehicle broke the silence he craved. The crunch of ice and screeching tires ricocheted in his ears.
“ScheiBe.” Shit. The car seemed to be spinning out of control as it slid closer to the edge of the mountain. No one drove at that kind of speed in heavy, wet snow. The guy drove like a Dummkopf and whatever happened was just what he deserved.
Then the world moved in slow motion, all the action exaggerated. The car swung left then right, in what seemed to take an hour. The brakes screeched, metal grinding against metal, before the dilapidated sedan glided across the shoulder. It coughed, like an old man who smoked too much, and died, its nose too close to the rim.
“Hey, Kamerad.” He pushed off the old tree trunk, waving his arms to catch the driver’s attention, and fell with all his weight onto one knee. The sharp pain clouded his mind for what seemed and eternity before he regained his footing.
He waved and hollered again, hoping the man would look up. Then he did; only it was a she, with fear pasted on her face.
He stumbled again then slid closer to the door handle and yanked.
Locked.
“Open it.” The cold air poured into his lungs. “Open the door!” he yelled again.
If the previous time passed in slow motion, her action was like a movie in rewind. She mouthed a few words. With a shake of his head, he tapped on the glass and pointed to the lock. This was getting them no where.
He jerked on the handle, careful not to rock the car any more than necessary. She seemed to finally get her senses back and edged her hand to the armrest controls.
The lock clicked and in a quick movement he flung the door open, flipped the key off, then grabbed her. He yanked with all his strength, but she would not budge. Damn, she still had on the harness.
He leaned across to release the seatbelt. She fought him, flailing, and the car shifted.
“Hey, Fraulein, do not move.” She inhaled deep and briefly nodded her head. “We have to get you out of the car and keep it on the shoulder. The cows below won’t produce good milk tonight if you squash them.” Obviously humor was not working, because when she glanced up, her eyes were filled with tears.
He grabbed her arm and pulled. Ripping cloth and cracking ice echoed in his head. He hooked his hands under both of her armpits and tugged until he thought he would get a hernia. The damned steering wheel trapped her knees. With a grunt and a vigorous yank, she flew out of the car, knocking the wind out of him as he landed ass to frozen ground.
*****
Lonnie looked up and gulped back a scream. The giant in dirty black leather, rattling on in German, seemed to suck all the air out as he groped her.
“Look you Hell’s Angel wannabe, get your hands off me.” She swatted at his fringed leather gloves hovering over her breasts. With a shake of her head, she swung her legs out of the car and banged into his shins. What the hell. She just had the shit scared out of her on a treacherous mountain road, that was by no means the four lane highway the rent-a-junk dealer had outlined on her map, and now she was fighting off some giant with Mel Gibson eyes.
Next thing she knew she was straddling him. Her legs spread wide across his hips. She jumped up, whisking ice off her kneecaps.
“Bitte, Fraulein…”
“I don’t speak German, so you probably won’t understand me.” Dammit, what a mess. How the hell was she going to get help way out here, when she didn’t even know where way out here was? She pulled her cell phone from her jacket pocket and flipped it open. With great care she enunciated each word as if she were teaching a toddler to speak, “I’m. Sorry. I. Don’t. Mean. To be rude. I’m exhausted and all I want is a hot bath. The rent-a-lemon guy told me the route and apparently I’m lost or else I’d be on a plowed highway to Bad Wiessee and not stuck on the edge of a mountain.”
“Nice try, Fraulein, but it won’t work here.” The giant laughed and pointed at her phone.
“Sir, I am not as inept as you must think.” Startled by his clipped English, she waved the phone at his chest like a maraca.
“This is a European cell phone. Purchased from the car rental agent. Guaranteed to call anywhere in the world.” She snorted at his stupidity.
Another hearty laugh forced her to look him dead in the coldest pair of blue eyes she’d ever seen.
From Teddi Turns On
Of course she missed the intimacy of marriage. The sex had been great and it sure beat the hell out of aspirin to get rid a headache. She was so tense and frustrated she’d do just about anything to get some relief. She closed her eyes, rotated her head, and heard enough cracks and pops to make her crave a good massage.
The darkened room and soft music helped her to relax. She stretched out on the table, shifting just enough to take the pressure off her nipples. Her arms hung limply over the table edge as she watched the masseur enter. With the soft snick of the lock, she realized they were alone. There she was, naked except for the warm towel draped across the swell of her butt. There he was, all male and tanned with a white tee shirt stretched across his rock-hard chest.
A trace of something spicy floated around her just as his warm hands slid up her spine. She couldn’t stop the moan that escaped as he rubbed purposefully to relieve the tension in her shoulders. Everything felt so good. His slick hands gliding down her torso, the music, the warm oil, ooh especially those hands as they took control of her muscles and thoughts. His thumbs pressed deeper into her tight flesh as his fingers spread across her back. The sensation skittering over her skin was so intimate and welcome, reminding her of all that she missed. He pushed firmer, sliding up, down, and out. His fingers skimmed the side of her breast. She held her breath. A deep chuckle filled the room.
“You like?”
“Oh, yes.” She twisted to relieve the tingling in her nipples, exposing her breast. His index finger traced her puckered aureole as his palm massaged her, making her vagina swell.
The towel dipped as he moved lower and stroked her butt. His long fingers slid between her cleft, setting off sensations she’d only dreamt about. Her hips jerked as he moved lower yet. Somehow the scrap of cloth had disappeared.
He shifted her legs apart as he caressed her thighs. His fingers delved higher until they lightly stroked…
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From Teddi Turns On
Back to his chair, David watched her reflection in the window and couldn’t figure out why she had seized his interest. Sure she had great tits and a fantastic ass, but he wasn’t a lech. Yet something about the woman made his cock jump to attention and all decent thoughts flip right out of his brain.
Obviously she was enjoying whatever her thoughts were. That sexy little expression gave her away, but not as much as the slow way she crossed her legs then squeezed her thighs together. What he wouldn’t give to be inside her head right now. Or better yet, inside her. Hot and wet. His two favorite sensations.
The possibility of being seated next to her on his flight to Germany brought on a strong desire to join the Mile High Club, an elite group he’d never before considered. He slid down in the chair, crossed his legs at the ankles, and explored his fantasy.
The light was passing into dark as she lifted his hand to her full mouth, sucking one finger at a time while her smoldering gaze held his. His other hand roamed over her thin blouse and pulled it from her waistband. His fingers brushed her soft skin, inching up to free her incredible breasts. Soft kitten sounds from deep in her throat filled his ears, while his thumb and forefinger pinched and tugged on her engorged nipple.
Her face turned up, anticipating his kiss. He swiped his tongue over her hot lips before plunging in, imitating his strongest desire.
He worked her zipper free, then slid her slacks down over her hips and filled his hands with her perfect, rounded ass. She kicked off the restrictive clothes and climbed atop him after freeing his cock from his painfully tight jeans. Her long legs straddled his hips. When the heat from her pussy touched the tip of his cock, he plunged into her, praying for an air pocket to drive him in deeper, taking his sensation higher. His name was wrenched from her ripe mouth as he pounded…
“Mr. Stiefel.”
Why in the hell would she call him mister at a time like this?
“Mr. Stiefel, your flight for Munich is boarding.” A shrill voice burst into his perfect daydream, shattering the hot fantasy but not crushing the biggest hard-on of his life.