It’s April Fool’s Day, and at one time or another love makes fools of us all, right? It’s different in books though. It’s totally acceptable for a fictional heroine to be a fool in love – as long as she doesn’t stay that way.
The romance novels I like, the ones that really resonate and stick with me, address head on that tug of war women often feel about sex. That, this is crazy. I shouldn’t like this ’cause society says I’m a screwed up whore if I do, but shit. It makes me come like the world is ending. I hope, by the time I finish this book, that Sam has nixed all of that crap in Laurel’s mind. Actually, I guess it’s my job to make sure he does, huh? LOL Enjoy this unedited snippet…
She was lying as instructed, staring up at the ceiling and wondering what in the hell was wrong with her that she turned on lying there, trembling with chill from the air and want from the little fire burning in her belly. She’d never have guessed she had this hidden kink. That she would get off on being bossed around, dominated by a man.
Don’t feel too bad about it, she thought. Sam wasn’t just any man. He was an alpha male. He was the kind of man who would dominate any situation, not just a sexual one. He’d dominate other men, not just women, and she, well, she admired alpha females, then looked down at her short, round self, shrugged, and carried on, grateful her mediocre life wasn’t worse.
She knew worse. Worse was horrible.
“Good.” He said, but didn’t gloat over her obedience. He just started taking his clothes off.
She wanted to watch, but she didn’t have the nerve. She just stared at the ceiling, her trembling increasing as she waited for whatever he had planned.
Her heart rate accelerated like crazy when she felt the bed dip, and her eyes closed. She bit her tongue to keep from crying out. It was a relief when she felt his touch.
He nuzzled her belly, one hand separating her thighs. “I’m glad you didn’t leave.”
“I almost did.”
She gasped when he put his mouth on her, her eyes opening wide.
“Don’t move,” he said into her flesh.
So Laurel lay there as he licked and sucked her into a quivering, gasping mess. The chill in the air vanished. Now beads of sweat dotted her brow, and her hands clenched the sheets as though she would choke them to death.
He was down there forever, or so it seemed. She realized later it was only minutes, but that was all she needed to transform into a complete wanton. She couldn’t control herself, couldn’t stifle her moans, her sobs, couldn’t keep her greedy hips from pressing up and grinding his face.
Sam just laughed, alternating between a voracious almost leonine attack and light teasing licks that made her sob with frustration. By the time he brought his fingers into play she was ready to go mad. He rimmed her, circling her channel with a firm gentle stroke, then brought two fingers together to mimic a thin version of his cock.
“You are so tight,” he said, his voice deep and satisfied.
If he’d been close she’d have bitten him. Instead she came like the world was ending, gasping for air, tears flowing, wanting to crawl under the covers and bawl her eyes out the pleasure was so intense.
When her heart calmed and she could breathe without her chest rattling like an asthmatic runner, she watched, dazed as he strode into the bathroom. She heard the faucet. Then he came out, climbed on top of her and slid home.
There was no kiss, no words, nothing but him, hard, immediate, as he began to rock her into another state of near delirium.
Then he slapped her. Not hard, but not soft either. She stared at him so utterly surprised, he laughed.
“Now we play how I like,” and he pinched her nipple so hard, tears came to her eyes.
He hadn’t hurt her bad enough to cry. It was the shock. The sudden realization that he wanted to hurt her. That she wanted to be hurt. With face and breast stinging, she grew wetter, pussy and face now decorated by two tear tracks. He saw the tears, but didn’t seem to care. Not when her body was trembling with pleasure and she was creaming his cock like a flesh colored Twinkie…