Time’s flown and I’m here to wind it back in slightly.
I’ve managed to put pen to paper – nah – fingers to keyboard recently after gaining some time to myself for a change, but I’ve also had a couple of releases out recently. One at a time.
The first is my single release edition of my cowboy story, Dust and Desire. It has just received (as part of the Lasso Lovin’ anthology) a cracking review from Delta at The Romance Reviews:
‘This was an excellent read which also receives a 5 star rating and where dirty talk takes on a whole new level of hotness. The angry ferocious MM sex in the beginning where guns are pointed and words are said was beyond erotic. The nasty, raunchy sex talk just put this short erotic romance on the map for me to reread sometime soon. I loved all of the characters, but especially Adeline’s bravery and heart. She was a fantastic addition to the men’s tumultuous relationship.’
I do like my dirty talk … 😉 Here’s some more for you, from Dust and Desire. Here, Chase has rescued Adeline from the broken down train and is taking her back to his ranch on his stallion, Fireblade. She’s sitting up with him on the horse.
“You like this, ma’am?”
“You ride back home in Boston?”
“In the park, occasionally. You have a beautiful steed, Mr Truman.”
“He’s a good ride, ma’am. Sure and steady. You sure do ride him well considerin’ you’re used to side-saddle.”
“I like sitting astride him like this.”
“You like to feel him between yer legs, huh?”
He was murmuring against her ear, low and smooth. “It would help if you drew yer skirts up. Give you more freedom and grip.”
“Like this…” He moved one of his hands from her waist and slid it down to grip her silk skirts. He tugged, slowly, revealing more and more of her legs. Little by little he tugged until her white drawers could be seen, then higher and higher.
“Jesus…” he hissed. “I’d forgotten how pretty a woman’s legs are. And let me tell you, Miss Monroe, those are mighty pretty legs.”
“T-thank you,” she stuttered. The whole situation was turning her on so much she could barely breathe. Fireblade kept up his steady pace. The rhythmic rubbing between her legs made her moan, just a little moan. Chase heard it and gave a chuckle.
“You like a man to stroke your legs, Miss Monroe?” He pressed his long, strong fingers onto her thigh and glided down, leaving a trail of exquisite need. When he reached her knee, he curled under, then ran back up along her inner thigh, tickling and tingling.
She gasped and her head fell back onto his shoulder. “Mr Truman… I’m not sure this is entirely…proper.”
“To hell with proper, ma’am. Out here in the desert, proper don’t get you nowhere. There’s just one question— does it feel good?”
“It feels so incredibly good,” she sighed.
“Then you just sit back and enjoy.”
He was working his hand even higher now and soon reached her waist. Chase slid skilled fingers into her drawers, eliciting another groan. Down he ran them, through the soft hairs, until he brought one finger to nestle at the apex of her lips and part them.
“Oh God!” she cried. He’d found that perfect spot, that tight bud of flesh that gave so much joy.
“Steady, girl… Long way to go yet.”