Excerpts
From Sultry Sweden
Disa ran her fingers along Colt’s deltoids, watching the strong muscles flex under her touch. His shyness had been endearing along with confusing. She wondered if his physical problem went further than the normal aches and pains of a professional athlete. If so, she intended to help him overcome the situation. If not, then he was in for a satisfying surprise. She hoped.
A quick scramble across the sheet gave him more room, then she tugged on his shoulders so he would lay back against the pillow. He winced, but continued to draw his legs up onto the bed.
She combed her fingers through the crisp auburn hairs sprinkled across his broad chest, descending to his beautiful hard dick nestled in a curly reddish tuft. She swallowed hard, fighting her desire to suck him until he came.
“You are a fine-looking man, Colt.” She rose onto her knees, then traced a fingernail around his tight balls, her inner muscles clenching with desire.
He laid a hand on her calf and slowly eased it up toward her thigh, caressing her. His fingers climbed higher. A shudder ran through her from his gentle massage over her rear-end up to the small of her back, then down, slipping a finger between her cheeks. Pressure built when he circled her sphincter, dipping his fingertip into the tight circle, out again, then back in.
She nipped at his balls, laving the tight sacs, savoring their salty taste. Her hand pumped his cock, starting slow and increasing the speed. His hips jerked, rocking with her rhythm, thrust along her palm.
Deftly, Colt maneuvered out from under Disa, scooped her up and kissed her with a passion she had never known. She clung to him, loving his strength, savoring his taste. He pulled away, the skin pulled taut over his cheek bones.
“It’s time to make you happy, baby. How about rolling over?” He tugged on her hip until she faced the brass headboard. “A little more to the center, so we can watch in the dresser mirror.”
She scooted across the rumpled linen and glanced into the antique glass. Their eyes met in the reflection and breathe caught in her throat.
“Spread your legs, Disa.” He gently nudged her shoulders to the mattress. “I promise to go easy.”
Kisses rained down her back as he mounted her. His thick cock played against her wet labia, the swollen head teasing into her. After a smooth thrust, he was inside, filling her. One firm palm kneaded her lower abdomen while his long fingers curled through her pubic hair, covering her mons. He stretched a finger further along her nether lips, separating the folds and massaged her fiery clit.
Tingles shot through her, watching their wavy images across the room. His arm muscles bulged as he moved his hands to her hips, gripping them tight, guiding her to him.
He rocked into her, the strokes faster and faster, his balls slapping against her thigh. He clutched her hips, slamming into her, riding her hard. She reared back, keeping pace, clenching her muscles to hold him tight, straining to swallow him in deeper. She gritted her teeth, biting back the scream that tore through her. Her body pulsed with his touch, screaming for release from the magnificent torture that only he could provide. She clutched the sheets, wadding the warm material in her fists, and burrowed into them, inhaling his musky scent.
“Come for me, baby. God, I need you.” His voice rasped…
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From French Twist
The throbbing burst into her head again. She rubbed her temples. “S’il vous plait, do not make this more difficult.”
“Hey, I get it. You’re this tough woman who can handle herself in any kind of danger. But, you need to look at it from my point of view.” He stepped behind her and massaged her shoulders, edging up to her neck.
Instant relief.
She sighed with each knead that worked free the stress knots.
“Let’s just say this Cesar doesn’t come alone. You ever figure he’s not a good guy?” Sarcasm streamed with each word.
“I know him.” She shrugged off his hands and turned, her fists balled tight. “You do not.”
“I’m not stupid and I do know a bunch of bullshit when I hear it.” His words bounced off the walls. “You think this fucker is your long-lost savior. Not hardly likely, chickee, if he bailed on a high profile government job and left you to the wolves.” He squinted at her, a vein pulsed along his forehead. “Was your commander right? Did you and James Fuckingbond have a couple of rolls in the sack and now you think he’s gonna be the righteous man of the hour? Is that all it takes with you? A fast fuck and a couple of swats on the ass to make you bend over and suck mud?”
“You dare to speak to me this way?” Red flashed before her eyes. “One afternoon of sex and you think you own me? Know what my life is like? How it should be orchestrated? You assume the right to be my master?” Meeting him decibel for decibel, she yelled, “You are an idiot!”
She swung out her hand, ready to slap his face. Hard.
With an expression cold and fierce, he leaned into her.
“Don’t do it. Don’t do one fucking thing you don’t want done back to you.” He stood his ground, fists planted on his hips. “I’m a nice guy. A fucking gentleman until someone, and I don’t care if she is a broad, muscles me. You got that? Loud and clear? Has it sunk you’re your brain? I will not–”
Wap.
A low growl came from deep in his chest. In slow motion, he rubbed his cheek along her red imprint, eyes narrowed to slits. “That’s it, baby, party’s over.”
He grabbed her wrist and spun her around, flopped onto the bed, and yanked her over his knee.
Rip.
Her cotton skirt shredded like tissue as he yanked it up over her ass, exposing her boy shorts.
“I told you before you needed a good spanking and the time’s come.” The satin panties were ripped away.
Whack.
His hand cracked down on her firm rear. The sting raced across her flesh, charging heat to her clit.
“Ow!” She struggled to get free, flailing her legs and arms, but his free hand pressed across her back, holding her in place. “You will pay for this, you le fils d’une chienne.”
“Oh, I’m sure I will, but not as much as you. And I’m not a son of a bitch. My mother is a nice woman.”
Whack.
“Nice girls don’t talk like that either.”
Whack. Whack.
“Donald, stop before it is–”
Whack.
“Too late? Too bad. Already is and I don’t give a shit.”
Whack. Whack.
His rigid penis pressed into her abdomen and dampness pooled in her panties. Pressure built between her thighs, increasing with each smack. She arched into him, loving it. Wanting this from the day they met.
Dieu, at this moment, he was her master. She wanted to be his equal, but not right now. Now, she wanted him to take control, had to know his brute force, needed him.
His hand slowed, then rested on her tingling flesh. He traced her butt cheek, edging closer to her perineum. She opened her thighs, praying he would slip between them.
He glided a finger along the crease, then dipped lower and stroked her swollen nether lips. Up and down, down and up, and she loved every stroke.
Cream seeped from her and her body begged for release. She no longer held back the moans.
“Had enough?” His words came out thick.
“Not of you.” She twisted around until she sat on his lap.
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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 rippled 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.
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From French Tart
Sebastien held his breath as her dark brown eyes widened. He knew all about Donatienne Dubois and her clashes with common sense. The wild child from Montreal would be a handful. An appealing thought if it meant her large breasts instead of her often publicized escapades.
Damn his father and the embassy’s good ol’ boys club. Duty was the only reason he agreed to suffer through this humiliating experience when he should have been working on the Monte Carlo casino robbery. Henry would just have to handle it.
Sebastien glanced down, enjoying their height difference and the view of her curvy cleavage. An image of them in bed, naked, flooded his mind.
He threw his leg over her waist, sliding his hard cock between her milk white breasts. Loving the scent of her sex and the ecstasy etched on her face. His cock stiffened each time she licked her moist tongue across its purple head. On the downward strokes she ground her pussy against his ass cheeks, cradling him between her thighs. He rolled her rosy nipples between his thumbs and index fingers, mesmerized as they pebbled. Her moans pushed him to the edge. He rode her harder. Faster. Dragging his tight balls across her flat stomach. Tit fucking her until she screamed for him to come inside. He slowed the pace and laid her warm hands on the sides of her firm breasts, pushing them closer together to hold his cock in place. A coy smile tipped the corners of her full mouth. She licked her lips then thumbed her hard nipples as he watched. A shudder ran the length of her flushed skin. He reached back, sliding his palm along her flat abdomen, massaging with the right pressure until she moaned. He trailed a finger over her mons, down through her damp pubic hair, and found her clit. Hot and ready. She spread her legs wider, inviting him to do more. He slid a finger into her juicy pussy, kneading deep into her hot core until she rode against him, her muscles clenched.
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From Isabella Ignites
Holt wanted to fuck her all night long. Ride her until sunup and again all the next day. He could not seem to get his fill of Isabella. In bed or out.
Isabella stretched up, her nipples sliding against his chest, and kissed him. He clutched her tighter, then scooped her up into his arms. In a few strides he stood at the side of her bed and lowered her onto the center of the duvet.
He looked down on her, allowing his fingertips to skim along the curve of her hip as she pulled her knees up, covering the part of her he wanted most to see.
“No, Issy. Lower your legs and open them.” He traced his hand down the inside of her thigh. “I want to see all of you.”
“Holt, but do not tease me any longer.” She reached out her hand to his.
He mounted the mattress, then braced his arms on either side of her, isolating them from the world, and swung his body between her wide spread thighs.
He kissed her mouth, along her cheek, moving lower to her throat. She wiggled and tried to thrust her hips against him, but he caught her, holding her still.
“It is my turn to have a little fun, Issy.” He sucked her nipple into his mouth, swirling the peak with his tongue until she moaned. A series of shudders ran the length of her as she reached for his cock, but he reared up just enough to stop contact.
Holt kissed his way down Isabella’s body, laving at her navel until her hands pushed his shoulders lower, as if she craved his mouth on her hot clit.
Her swollen pussy was wet and shiny, the blonde hairs laced with her cream. He ran an index finger between her folds and she moaned. Her hips bucked as he slid his finger up and down, along her channel, barely grazing her clit.
He lowered his shoulders, nestling between her thighs, and traced his mouth along her skin until her wet hairs tickled his cheek. Slowly he spread her folds, the pink flesh quivering with his touch, then laved and sucked her labia, loving the sweet honey taste of her sex.
She grabbed the rails of the headboard, rising up to meet his lips, but he clamped her hips into place. Her trembling body tensed and he knew she was but a lick away. He slid his index finger into her wet channel, massaging against the inside wall. She moaned and her muscles clenched around him, holding him tight. He edged out, then glided two fingers back in, rotating them against the slick walls as he watched her unfocused eyes widen.
“Dieu, Holt, no more torture.” Her pitch had dropped to a throaty whisper, the words coming out strangled.
He looked up at her. With shaky fingers, he wiped her wetness from his face and repositioned himself between her thighs…
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From Finnish Fantasies
…With his hard-on raging, Rurik watched her nipples harden and peak through the thin knit shirt and wondered if was their heated exchange that excited her, or the fact he had taken control.
Women want to be dominated.
“There are times a man must take a stand with an unruly woman.” He caught her wrist and tugged her closer.
“You wouldn’t dare!”
Color drained from her cheeks, but was that a sparkle in her eyes?
He stopped for a moment and thought about the consequences of his action. Either it would be a beautiful success or Kate would pack her bags right after she rang the police.
“Yes, today I would.” He dropped onto a birch stump and, with a quick yank, upended her over his knees. Her perfect ass across his lap was too tempting to stop.
“You’d better stop before it’s too late, buddy.” She turned her head and shot him a glare that could melt steel.
“It already is.” His palm came down with a resounding smack.
“Ouch.” She kicked her legs and wrestled beneath him.
He laid an arm over her shoulders to keep her in place, praying he had made the right decision.
“Rurik, you are so going to pay for this,” she wailed, startling the birds from the trees.
And he knew he would, right after he laid another open-palm swat on her firm ass.
Whack.
She yelped at the contact, and he loved it. He may have been wrong about her being a spoiled, over-privileged woman, but a good spanking seemed in order to assert his authority. But then again, he had better run like hell when he finally let her up because she was going to murder him.
His hand came down again, not quite as hard, and lingered on her sexy rear, petting away the sting. He ran his fingers along the curve of her cheeks hidden under the tight denim shorts, wondering what his handprint would look like on her milky flesh. A stirring below his belt pressed against his fly, forcing him to shift unsuccessfully under her weight.
She wiggled against his cock, enhancing his torture, and he could not stifle the groan.
“Are you through beating me into submission?” Her words came out breathlessly, reminding him of how her lips had purred against his balls the night before.
“No. I do not think so.” His hand smacked solid on her ass, pleased with her shriek.
He grazed a finger under the ragged edge of her shorts, inching up the inside of her thigh, seeking the heat beneath her damp thong. He hooked the lacey strap and tugged, drawing it tight against her swollen labia, released it and yanked up again. Her soft gasp carried to him on a gentle breeze.
The scent of her arousal drifted up, encouraging him to please her. He glided closer to her folds, teasing along the way with light pinches to her flesh. His finger slipped inside and he smiled, pleased by her wetness. Her pussy flexed against him, clenching–relaxing, milking him, like her mouth had done to his cock.
“I think you like this, Kate.” He knew he did.
A whimper rose up like a caress, her hair tumbling free as she nodded.
He pulled out, then slid back in with two fingers, pressing firmer against her wall.
“Should I continue your torture or”– he continued massaging up and down, until she bucked against him. –“take you into the house and fuck you fast and hard?”
A soft gurgle washed her words away and his balls tightened…
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From Czech Mate
…Lacey lifted out a teetering stack of silky looking items. Lingerie? A light blue bra encased with what must be rhinestones slid to the floor, quickly followed by the matching lacey bikini panties.
“What are these?” Dragan knelt next to her, blood pounding through his veins as he captured the delicate cloth in his hands.
“My undies.” She continued to rummage, spilling more silken items onto the carpet.
He lifted an eyebrow. “Uncomfortable?”
“Surprisingly, no.” She giggled, her creamy skin taking on a rosy glow as she dipped her head lower to the suitcase. “Damn it, where is it?”
A vision of her dressed only in the intimate garments and those sexy high heels strapped to her ankles flooded his mind, sending jolts of electricity south.
His stiff cock, which seemed to be its normal posture in her presence, swelled larger as she walked toward him, its throbbing head anxious to be deep inside her, wrapped in her wet heat. The tips of her hard nipples shoved against the silky fabric of her bra, their outline a beacon to his aching member. His fingers itched to caress the soft mounds, rising over the miniscule rhinestone-studded cups, and tongue her hard nipples. He could almost feel the erotic sensation when he released them, mounted her and slid his cock between their firm flesh.
She stepped closer, drawing his attention lower to her shapely hips. Mesmerized, he watched them sway, the movement seductive, sensual, compelling him to taste her.
The clear gems sprinkled across her sheer panties twinkled in the dim light. He licked his dry lips. The burning desire to kiss the lacey vee at the apex of her thighs, suckle her clit through the thin material and graze a finger along her folds brought sweat to his brow.
She slid the bra straps down her shoulders. His heart thudded, banging against his ribcage. He stood-
“Earth to Vic. Come in, Vic.” A hand shook his shoulder, returning him to the present. “Um, you might want to let go, big time.”
He glanced down at his hands, wadding her undergarments into a knot. Kersati. Fuck, what the hell could he say to her and not appear to be an old lecher? “I apologize. My mind must have taken a short vacation.”
She laughed. “Yeah, right. Don’t even think I’ll buy that one, big guy.”
Dragan pursed his lips, not sure how to determine the best way to measure Lacey’s shapely body without appearing to molest her, especially after making a fool of himself over her delicate underwear. He did not trust himself to hold back, and not wrap her in his arms and kiss her until she begged him to make love to her.
Kersati, how the hell could he have become so affected by this young woman in a matter of an hour? He looked at her, his hands fisted tight at his sides.
“Do you have a tape measure?”
He shook his head, not trusting the right words to travel past his lips.
A grin spread across her face and carried to her bright hazel eyes, eyes that seemed to see deep into his soul.
“Then how do you plan to do this? String? Belt?” Her voice echoed the humor radiating from her face. “Silk scarves?”
He looked at his raised hands, the fingers spread wide as if he were testing melons in the market. Disgusted by his absurd action, he jammed them into his trouser pockets.
“It’s not going to happen if you don’t make it happen.” She reached for his wrists. When he dug them deeper into his pockets, she laughed. Kersati, his balls were drawn so tight they hurt…
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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.
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From Photo Op
Her nose twitched as a subtle, yet pleasant, aroma surrounded her.
“It is pear, Madam.”
Another tall handsome waiter, looking good enough to eat, stood at her side and without a word slid a menu in front of her. She glanced up into large chocolate eyes and her heart stuttered.
“Pardon?” Her voice came out on a whoosh of air.
“I noticed your attempt to distinguish the scent.” He waved a large hand in the air. “Many of our ladies have had your same reaction.”
She cleared her throat. “Delightful.”
“At times, late in the evening, the air is infused with a hint of cinnamon and chocolate.” His eyes twinkled as if he were sharing a dark secret. “Tempts one to indulge in a decadent dessert. Would you care for one, Ms Peters?”
A shiver weaved its way up her spine when he said her name. With shaking fingers, she took a gulp of ice water, ordering her oversexed body to behave.
“If nothing on the menu appeals to you, Chef Claude would be elated to whip up whatever you prefer.”
British and gorgeous. And then it sunk in. Chef Claude.
“Is he Claude St. Cyr? The same chef who owns a cooking school?”
The waiter from every woman’s fantasy grinned. “One in the same.”
Now what the hell is he doing in a place like this?
“Ms Peters?” He tapped a well-groomed fingernail on the menu.
“What? Oh yes.” She flipped open the leather jacket to scan the tasty treats, her one downfall. The card read like an international list of culinary sexual pleasures.
Spotted Dick presented by Jon
Bavarian Cream presented by Hans
Hot Soufflé presented by Francois
Mocha Butter presented by Motumba
Emily slipped the cap off her lipstick tube, then did an unhurried swipe along her bottom lip, wondering just how far the presenters would go.
“Do you see anything you like?” His deep voice played havoc with her senses as she squirmed in her damp panties.
“Too bad you don’t offer Cumberland Rum Nicky. I enjoyed it at a restaurant in London a few years ago. Never found it again.” His tanned face paled as if she’d requested to borrow The Crown Jewels.
“Perhaps a dish of Whim Wham?”
“No thanks, I’m fanciful enough.” She laughed at her little joke about the true meaning of the Scottish pie. “I’d really like a Benedictine straight up and a cup of black coffee.”
He nodded and walked toward the bar area.
Of all the waitstaff Emily had encountered or seen during her two hours over dinner, this last was the paix de la résistance. Sable brown hair caressed his white shirt collar. She’d give anything to run her fingers through the thick waves.
The Reverend and ladies met with her lickable waiter at the doorway. He stood to the side, gesturing for them to go first. The tallest of the women stopped and started up a conversation, but he backed away the moment she ran her fingers along his jaw line.
Seems like the help gets to play with the clientele.
Emily pulled the cap off her lipstick tube.
Smile, I think you’re going to like this one.
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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 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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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.