Tuesday, June 24, 2014

Promo Tour: Star Struck by Laurelin Paige

STARSTRUCKblogtour (1)  
Title: Star Struck
Series: Lights, Camera Companion
Author: Laurelin Paige
Publisher: Samhain
Publication Date: June 17, 2014
Summary: Onto every diva’s backside, a little wood must fall.StarStruckCoverLights, Camera, Book 2 Hollywood actress Heather Wainwright was looking forward to a long, relaxing break before starting her next shoot. Except her assistant volunteered her for L.A.’s annual 24 Hour Plays. Nervous about doing a good job for such a worthy charity, Heather falls back on “diva” mode, a defense mechanism that always carries her through. Until she encounters something that really gets on her nerves—a lowly carpenter whose Norse god eyes pierce right through her. Highly sought-after production designer Seth Rafferty has little patience for A-listers with superior attitudes, which is why his attraction to Heather is absurd. Yet, sensing vulnerability beneath her screen-queen act, he lets her assumptions play out. After the wrap party, Heather awakens with little memory of the night before—except that Seth gave her the best orgasm of her life, then disappeared. When he shows up on the set of her next movie, she winds up to give him a piece of her mind…and Seth shows her just how stinging hot “chemistry” can get. Warning: Contains an outwardly snobby actress with a good heart, a delicious carpenter with a power drill, some much-deserved spanking, and an appropriately consensual—if tipsy—orgasm, as well as sex at an inappropriate time of the month.

Excerpt:

The entire back counter had an array of tools—hammers, saws, screwdrivers, and tools she didn’t know the name of. This was where Seth would be constructing the set pieces. These must be his tools. He’d touched these tools, used them.
She put her hand out and brushed the items as she walked along the counter, enjoying the rush that came from knowing they belonged to the sexy carpenter. Images of him using them filled her mind, turning her entire body to warm mush.
She let her hand settle on an electric drill. It felt strange in her grasp, not an item she’d ever find herself in contact with. She wasn’t even sure she knew how to use one. It was perfect—an unexpected prop and one that a writer could have a lot of fun with.
But she couldn’t take it…could she?
She heard voices from the stage and could tell the group was gathering. The intros were about to start. She had no time. She glanced around to see if she had any other options and spotted an older, more worn drill on the counter. Black sharpie marked it as “Property of Broad Stage”. This drill was better. Bigger and more awkward, but she’d feel less guilty about borrowing it. Without another thought, she picked up the old drill and began wrapping the cord around its body.
“Did you get lost?”
She spun around at the sound of the familiar voice—the voice that made her slippery in her silk panties—and clutched the drill behind her back.
Seth stood in the doorway, one arm propped against the frame, his blue eyes freezing her to her spot. He wore a plain burgundy T-shirt and carpenter jeans.  She hadn’t imagined the intensity of her attraction to him—it was real. Just looking at him now made her chest tight and her lungs struggle for air.
Realizing he’d nearly caught her in the act of “borrowing” a tool, she threw her shoulders back and put on her best innocent look. “No, I was…just…trying to find some place I could be alone.” She could feel her eyelashes fluttering as she spoke, as if they had a mind of their own. Whether they were trying to hide her guilt or flirting, she wasn’t sure.
God, she was pathetic.
Seth narrowed his eyes and approached her with long slow steps, each making her heart beat faster. “There are lots of places in the theater to be alone. This isn’t one of them.”
It certainly wasn’t. Though she was alone with him. His words pretty much acknowledging that fact made her lightheaded.
He kept coming toward her until he was right beside her. “Aren’t you supposed to be at the cast Meet and Greet?”
“Aren’t you supposed to be there?”
“I’ll get there eventually.” He leaned against the counter and gestured at her with a nod. “Whatcha got behind your back?”
His scent, a mixture of soap and sweat and cedar, wafted from his skin, making her weak in the knees. “Nothing.” Yeah, that didn’t sound childish. “I mean, none of your business.” Oh, much better.
Why did speaking to Seth always get her so flustered? He wasn’t supposed to talk to her, anyway. It was a rule all the crew was given—only talk to the actors when necessary for the show. That was the assurance given to protect the stars’ privacy. She clutched onto that rule now like a life vest. “You aren’t supposed to talk to me.”
“Whoops.”
Obviously, Seth didn’t care too much about following rules.
And if he was going to be that way, she wasn’t going to feel bad about borrowing a drill. She just had to figure how to get out of there with it. Glancing around, she spotted another exit just behind her. If she walked backwards, she could make it to that door without him spotting the drill. She had to try.
“Well, since I’m essential out there, I better go.” She took one cautious step away from him.
“You mean as opposed to me being unessential.”
She hadn’t meant for that to sound so snotty. “No.” But it was true. The Meet and Greet was about the actors. The set was completely unnecessary. “Well, yes. But…”
“Don’t fret it, princess. I knew what you meant.”
His tone reaffirmed that he’d already made up his mind about her. He thought she was stuck-up, and wasn’t she? But he didn’t have to parade his disgust for her. “Whatever.”
She took another couple of steps backward, but the cord slipped from where she’d wrapped it around the drill. Before she realized it, the heel of her sandal caught on it, throwing her off balance. She cast out her arms, trying to stop her momentum, but she only managed to postpone the inevitable fall.
Thankfully her plummet was stopped by strong, fast arms that circled around her waist in a firm grasp.
“Whoa.” Seth held her, his face inches from hers, concern in his eyes mixed with something else. Desire? “You okay?”
She stared into his face, at his lips so close she could kiss them if she lifted her head. She wanted to lift her head. So bad. “I’m okay.” Her voice was a whisper. “I just tripped.”
His eyes scanned her face, lingering on her mouth. Then moved lower to her breast line. She felt her skin warm and redden under his gaze. When his stare found its way back to hers, he unwrapped an arm from her waist and brought it between them.
She tensed, waiting for his touch. Longing for his touch. Would his hand trail up her arm? Or caress her cheek? Or, though highly inappropriate, brush her breast? She let out a shaky breath at the thought.
But the touch she longed for didn’t come in any form. Instead, he pulled the tool she still clutched from her grasp and curled his lip. “If you needed a drill, princess, all you had to do was ask.”
Disappointed and embarrassed, she pushed out of his arms. “Don’t call me that.”
“Do you need a screw as well?”
“Stop it, okay.” It surprised her how near tears she was. “I needed a prop. Are you happy? I knocked over my purse in the car and my handcuffs must have fallen out and my assistant is clear out in Bel Air picking up my birth control and she won’t be back in time for the Meet and Greet, even if I manage to go last and I was desperate so I came in here to look for something I could use and this was the first thing I found.” Her words tumbled out in a rush.
He chuckled in a way that both irritated and excited her. “Handcuffs? Birth control?”
Her face warmed from equal parts frustration and humiliation. “Can I just…can I use it?”
“Can you use what?”
“The drill, Seth.”
“Of course. I told you all you had to do was ask.” His eyes sparkled with amusement. “But here—” He exchanged the theater’s drill for his own still on the counter. “Take mine instead. No one will know who it really belonged to or that you came unprepared. Now, wasn’t it a good thing that I was around?”
He held out the drill to her and she took it, brushing his fingertips as she did. The touch shot a surge of electricity through her body. Still, she said, “This doesn’t make us friends.”
His hand sprang out and grabbed her arm just below her elbow. “Do you really think I want to be friends?”
Confused by the roughness of the action and the delight of his fingers on her bare skin, she didn’t know if she should pull away or lean in farther. “I…I don’t know what you want,” she managed to stammer, realizing she didn’t know what she wanted either.
His grasp softened slightly and he drew her closer. For the second time that night, she thought—no, wished—he would kiss her. Instead, when his head bent toward her, it stopped near her ear. “Isn’t it too bad that you won’t let yourself find out?”
His husky whisper sent a serious shiver through her body. For one minute she believed she could let herself find out. That she could forget her past and everything that Seth represented to her. That she could fall into his arms and let his mouth and body erase every bad memory and association she had with people who performed manual labor for a living.
But she’d spent too many years believing just the opposite. The walls she’d have to break down to let someone like Seth in were pretty sturdy.
When she spoke, her voice didn’t sound like her own. The tone was meek and unsure and breathy. “I have to go.”
“Yes, you do.”
He released her and she turned and walked away on unsteady legs. And just like when she’d left her trailer house at sixteen, she didn’t look back.
He was like her past. She didn’t need him. She didn’t want him.

This time, though, the effort to not look was excruciating.


About Laurelin: Laurelin Paige is the NY Times and USA Today Bestselling Author of the Fixed Trilogy. She's a sucker for a good romance and gets giddy anytime there's kissing, much to the embarrassment of her three daughters. Her husband doesn't seem to complain, however. When she isn't reading or writing sexy stories, she's probably singing, watching Mad Men and the Walking Dead, or dreaming of Adam Levine.

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Friday, June 20, 2014

Promo Tour: Between the Pain by Gia Riley

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Between the Pain by Gia Riley 
Publication Date: June 5, 2014 
Tour: Between the Pain by Gia Riley
Synopsis:
 Graduating from nursing school and finding herself thrown into the real world, twenty-two year old Hallie Dawson is determined to prove herself on the job. A chance encounter on the first day has charming Ryan Andrews showing up everywhere she goes. With only a string of random hook-ups and one failed relationship in her past, Hallie isn’t used to being pursued. For the first time, two men desire her. Will she choose the right one – or does fate hold all the cards?
Between the Pain is a Contemporary Romance novella about finding love - and being brave enough to follow your heart. Will Hallie end up in the arms of her true love or are the moments in between her pain forming the real story.
Timing is everything.
A fraction of a second, one altered course, one note -- change her life forever.

Excerpt
The song ends and we are left in the middle of the dance floor staring at each other. Neither of us makes a move to say anything else. Why can’t I just say yes like any other normal girl would? One of the bartenders is on the small stage announcing a drink special and something about a band starting in fifteen minutes. I’m too busy looking into Ryan’s eyes to really care about either of those two things right now. Before I have a chance to get my words of acceptance out, Ryan decides to end the moment.
“Think about it, about what I said. It’s just a date and I don’t care if we do it like everyone else or not. Well I care how we do it but that isn’t important right now.” The heat in his gaze makes me take a step back, not because I’m not feeling it, but because I am feeling it. I’ve never had a reaction quite like this one before. I’m quickly figuring out Ryan isn’t like most guys and I think he’s just the adventure I need to help break out of my shell.



About the Author:
Gia Riley is both a Contemporary Romance novelist and book enthusiast. Between the Pain is Gia’s debut novella, having only written as a hobby in the past. Writing has been a passion of hers since high school, when she took her very first creative writing class. Gia is also an active wife and mother. When she has a quiet moment, she loves to swap her play-doh for her laptop. Gia also loves to travel, listen to music and sing (her husband would advise against this). Cruises are her favorite type of vacation with Belize being her favorite port of call.
Gia believes there is nothing more satisfying than getting lost in a good book! Everyone deserves their happily ever after.

Promo Tour: Finding Freedom by Natalie Gayle




TITLE: Finding Freedom 
AUTHOR: Natalie Gayle 
SERIES: Centre Games - Book 3 








Dylan “Ice Dragon” Thompson has suddenly become the hottest thing in MMA. He’s fought all his life for control and inner peace. He focuses on what he excels at—fighting and his work with the Centre. It’s what he knows and what keeps him in balance. His latest assignment has him fighting a war with a partner he doesn’t believe he can trust.

Vanessa Aldridge has grown up in the gym and has seen it all—some good, some bad. But when performance-enhancing drugs threaten her life and her personal sense of worth—enough is enough. The very people closest to her now have her questioning their motives and nobody is as they seem. On top of all this, she’s unwittingly become the number-one pawn in an organised crime game and she’s risking her heart on a guy who wants to fight for everything but them.

Vanessa quickly discovers that Dylan is far from what he appears to be. But what happens when his latest assignment blows his carefully created world wide open? Can Dylan win the most important fight of all—the one for her heart and their future? Or will he retreat back into the one-dimensional existence of working and fighting? Can Vanessa remain steadfast to her principles and just maybe take the ultimate prize? The battle lines are drawn.


When the bell rings, who will step up to fight? The prize: A future of freedom.












Vanessa snuggled into Dylan’s side and placed her head on his chest. His arm came around her and held her tight to his body. It had fast become her favourite place to relax and to sleep. She really enjoyed this closeness between them. They’d just spent the last couple of hours enjoying each other in some incredibly delicious ways. Their need for each other seemed to be getting stronger, if anything. Hard to believe, but true.
It didn’t feel just like sex to Vanessa any longer. There was something much more to their relationship now. It felt much deeper, more committed. He’d just made love to her. Whether he labelled it that or not, didn’t really matter. Vanessa was sure there was more to it than just mutual satisfaction. Sex satisfied the basic needs of the body; making love replenished the soul and that’s how she felt right now.
“Whatcha thinking, Van?” Dylan stroked the hair back from her warm forehead.
“I was thinking just how much I like lying here in your arms, listening to your heart beat. I feel content and nothing seems to matter when I’m here beside you. I think I’ve moved past the care thing, Dylan. I think I’m in love with you.” Vanessa realised it was the truth as soon as the words left her mouth. She hadn’t intended to say them but he had a right to know. If he didn’t want her love or couldn’t deal with it, she deserved to know that as well.
It couldn’t be unsaid, nor did she actually want to. If he chose to run, then that was on him. At least she would know one way or the other.
He was quiet for a long moment and Vanessa’s stomach filled with dread. What did he really think? How would he answer? Would he even acknowledge she’d said the words?
Finally, she could stand it no longer.
“Um, I’m sorry for unloading that on you. I think you…”
He brought a finger to her lips and hushed her. “Stop thinking the worst, Vanessa. It’s only been a second. I’m going to answer; you’ve just taken me by surprise. I’m trying to figure out how I feel because I never expected to hear those words again from any woman. I guess it’s kind of taken me by surprise.”
Vanessa wondered how this could be. Just the other day, they’d decided they both “cared” about each other. Surely love wasn’t much of a jump, or was it for someone like Dylan, who was usually so closed off? Her heart tightened for him; to not ever expect to hear those words…that was devastating.
“I didn’t mean to put you on the spot, Dylan. It just kind of slipped out but it’s the truth. I’m sorry if that upsets you.”
He squeezed her to him tighter. “Vanessa, never apologise for loving someone. Having someone’s love is an absolute gift. I’m just trying to decide if I’m worthy of yours.”
Vanessa placed her hand over the pec that her head wasn’t resting on and pushed up. She needed to see his eyes to really understand what was going through his head. Plus she wanted him to see hers and know everything she said was the absolute truth.
“Dylan, what on earth ever happened to you to make you feel that you weren’t worthy of someone’s love?” Her voice cracked as she said the words so choked with emotion.
He raked his hand back through his hair.
“I’m not like you, Van. I’m human but I have all this weird shit going on inside me. I don’t know if what I feel is the same as what you feel. What if what I feel is not love but something else? What if my animal genes somehow change all this?”
She desperately tried to process his words. “Are you saying that you’re wondering if what you’re feeling is the same as what I’m calling love?”
“Yeah, I guess. I mean I’m more than just human, so I wonder if the feelings we label as something are the same. I know the definitions for emotions. I just wonder if we’re talking about the same thing we actually feel.”
Wow. This was deep. Her mind raced. How could they align? How could she help him clarify his feelings?
“Well, maybe if I tell you what I’m feeling and labelling love, then you can decide if that’s what you think it is?” He looked uncertain and Vanessa definitely felt the same. But she knew she had to be brave and push on. She sensed this conversation was potentially life-changing to them. Rather than wait for him to answer, she launched on.
“Dylan, to me love is many things. It’s a combination of lots of feelings all rolled into one. It’s about what I feel for you but it’s also about how you make me feel about myself. Let me give you some specific examples. It’s laying here snuggled into you like this. I feel totally relaxed, safe, and special. It’s knowing you’re always so concerned about my safety and you’re prepared to immediately step up to ensure it and you don’t mind offending a few people on the way if that’s what it takes. It’s the little affectionate kisses on the neck, the pats on the butt, the times you pull me into your side. It makes me feel special and good inside to know you want me close. It’s what we do in the bedroom.” He looked like he was about to interrupt but this time it was Vanessa’s turn to press her fingers to his lips.
“Shhh, you’ll get your turn soon. Don’t tell me it’s just lust. It’s much more than that. You’ve taken the time and the effort to make sure I’ve been satisfied. And that could probably be construed as you being a generous lover. But it’s how you touch me, caress me. Your touch has changed of late. It feels like I’m special and important to you. It’s different from the beginning. More fulfilling.
“It’s the way we can talk about things, argue about things but still move forward. I’m quite capable of handling most situations that life throws at me—some good, some bad. I find myself wanting to share the good with you. I want to tell you all about them, experience them with you more than anyone else. And the bad—well, it doesn’t seem so daunting or terrible with you there to lean on. You make me feel good about myself. You make me feel like I can do anything I set my mind to. I feel whole when I’m with you. You’re the first person I think of when I wake up and the last person I think of before I go to sleep. You’re the one I want to talk to first, spend time with.” She could see the emotions roll across his face and his hazel eyes mirrored her every word. She wondered what he was thinking. “This is what I’m defining as love.”
She relaxed back onto his chest and pulled herself in tight to him. His arms closed tighter around her.
He’d need a few moments to process all that. Hell, she did too.
Once she’d started, the words just seemed to keep coming. She really hoped he understood where she was coming from. It may not have been the most eloquent of descriptions or speeches, but that was how she felt. That’s what love meant to her.
Finally he shifted a little and dragged her up his body. He reached up and pressed his lips to hers. “You really feel all that about me?”
She nodded without hesitation. It was such a simple question to answer. “I do feel like that.”
He took her by surprise and rolled over. He brought her under him, his body laid out over the top of hers. She loved the feeling of his weight on her. He planted his forearms on the mattress beside her shoulders and his eyes seemed to bore into her soul.
“I feel lots of things about you, too, Vanessa. I’m not going to label it love right here and now because I think that would be premature and somehow cheapen what you’ve just shared with me, but you certainly helped clarify a few things for me. I definitely care deeply for you, more than I’ve ever felt for anyone else in a very long time. Maybe even forever. Now that I know we’re talking about the same thing, I need to try it on for size. See how it fits.” He leant forward and touched his lips to hers in a searing kiss. He didn’t try to push for more. The simplicity and chasteness of it spoke much more than hungry passion would have. Somehow it seemed this kiss marked the start of something bigger, better in their relationship.
“Thank you for loving me, Vanessa, and caring enough to try to explain to me just what I mean to you.” He dropped a light kiss on the tip of her nose and it tickled.
She giggled. “You said before never to apologise for loving someone. Now I’m going to say to you—never thank me for loving you. I give it to you freely and willingly. I don’t expect nor do I want thanks in return. Just honesty and understanding, and if you one day realise you love me also, that would make my world complete.”
He looked down at her for a few long seconds. It should have felt uncomfortable but it didn’t. It felt as if he was trying to absorb her into his being. As if he was trying to get to the very centre of what made her the person she was. It felt liberating but very exposing at the same time, but there was nothing she wanted to hide from him anymore. She really hoped that very soon that’s the way he’d feel about her.









I recently discovered those school vocational assessments are really interesting and probably correct! Who would have thought, hey? You see, I clearly remember taking one of those in Year 11 (for my US friends, I think that equates to junior year in high school). Anyway, semantics. Well, the results came back indicating that I should pursue a career in writing and something else. What that something else was I can’t remember but the writing thing stuck in my mind.

Sure, I’d always liked English and had already developed a ravenous appetite for romance novels by the age of sixteen—but who becomes a writer straight out of school? So to cut a long story short, I went to Uni and studied Business and ended up managing large-scale IT projects shortly after.
I can’t complain: it’s been a great career. I’ve done some awesome projects and met some incredible people and I won’t be giving it up anytime soon. Anyway, I’ve messed around with a couple of “secret” novels over the years and I finally decided to get serious and finish one. Hence “Finding Trust” came about. And about twenty years later, I’ve finally proved a vocational assessment correct, because I love writing!

As to some other stuff about me: I live on the Gold Coast, Australia. I love spending time with my family and friends. When I’m not sitting behind a screen playing with IT or writing, you might find me down the beach playing in the waves on a Jet Ski or a bogey board (both are uber cool). When the weather turns a bit cooler (doesn’t really happen on the Gold Coast), we like to head for the snow. I’ve discovered I have two kids who are kamikaze skiers—they must take after their father. He’s always at me to “release the handbrake.” Apparently I’d ski so much better. I call it a healthy understanding of self-preservation and gravity!
I like to think I can fit in a few workouts and martial arts classes each week. This tends to be a figment of my imagination more than reality, unfortunately. I am trying to remedy this, but those damn characters just keep demanding to have their stories told and, well, there’s always another good book to read!

I hope you enjoy mine.

Please drop me a line. You can find me at my website, www.nataliegayle.com.   I’m active on Facebook, Twitter, and via email Natalie@nataliegayle.com.au. I’d love to know what you think of my books and well, let’s be truthful—I love talking about books, whether they’re mine or someone else’s. Fiction is just so much more fun than reality!!!

Happy Reading

Natalie Gayle



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Thursday, June 19, 2014

Cover Reveal: Taboo Unchained by C.M. Stunch


Title: Taboo Unchained
Author: C.M. Stunich
Stand-Alone Novel
Release Day: June 2014
Genre: dark romance erotica


Blurb: 

The taboo turns me on.

The dirty.  The filthy.  The nasty.

The man your mother fucking warned you about – is me.

Hold onto your panties, ladies.

Lucas Carter is here to show you the dark side of the sheets.

***WARNING:  This is a dark romance erotica – meaning lots of
violence, sex, and emotionally disturbing inner dialogue.  However,
there is *NO* kidnapping, rape, or other forms of misogyny.  Lucas
Carter is an anti-hero, but he doesn't disrespect women.  The entire
book is told in his point of view.

Excerpt:
CHAPTER ONE
 IN THE NAME OF ALL THINGS UNHOLY
My name is Lucas Carter, and I am a fucking God.
     I slide my hand down my cock, gripping the base of my shaft with sure fingers.  A smirk lingers on my lips as I work my body like a machine.  I know what gets me off – oh, who I am kidding?  I know what gets everyone off – so it doesn't take long to milk pre-cum onto my fingers.
     The blonde lying across my bed watches me with hungry eyes, sliding her tongue across her full lips.  They're already swollen from my ministrations, bruised by my kisses.  Marked.  Sealed.  Stamped with my name.
    I smile.
   “Tell me you want this,” I command, watching as her gaze rakes down my body, begging silently for me to fuck her, to slide my cock into her folds and own her.  Little does she know, I already do.  I don't need to touch a woman to possess her; I can reel in souls with a simple look, a light touch, a well-timed smile.  It's not magic.  This, this is simple biology.
    “I want your penis,” she says, and I cringe, releasing my dick and stalking across the room towards her.  She cowers back, but I don't touch her.  Lucas Carter never hits women – not unless they want him to.  I do not believe Mrs. Braxton ordered that particular service.  From the corner of the room, I hear her husband shift uncomfortably.  I've already asked him twice to keep his mouth shut.  I don't do men, but I do allow them to watch, provided they keep quiet.
   “My … penis?” I ask, trying not to grit my teeth.  Mrs. Braxton has pushed me to the edge of my sanity today.  She's attractive, much more so than my other clients, but she has a bad habit of dulling my excitement with her squeaky clean little mouth.  Not even the bright red of her lipstick is helping.  “This is not a sexual education class, Clarice.  This is not your mother's living room.  If you're going to refer to my body, you're going to use the words that I choose.”  I pause and stand up straight, sliding my sticky fingers back down my shaft.  Pleasure pricks my body, helping to soothe my ire.  “Now.  Repeat after me.”  I pause, watching as Clarice's pink nipples stand at sharp attention.  Her stomach muscles tighten as she sucks in a deep breath.  “Dick.”
    I take a step closer, letting my eyes soak in her rounded curves and the sweep of her pale hair across the white linens.  Her blue eyes break from mine for just a split second, sliding over towards the corner where her husband sits.  I reach my fingers out and grab her chin, guiding her attention back to my face.  Make no mistake here: Mr. and Mrs. Braxton may be my clients, but I am the one in charge.
    “Say.  It.”  If there's one thing I hate more than the mollification of genitalia, it's having to repeat myself.  My hand tightens on my cock.  Clarice swallows hard as her eyes flutter and her lips part softly.
    “Dick,” she whimpers, and the smile returns to my face.  I trail my fingertips down her throat, watching the jumping pulse of her heart as I drag my hand towards her full breasts.
    “Cock.”  The word jumps sharply off my tongue at the same moment I clamp my fingertips on Clarice's taut, pink nipples.  She groans deeply, relaxing back onto the bed and spreading her legs wide for me, opening up that pretty pink pussy like a flower in bloom.  I ignore the slight murmur of Mr. Braxton's moans from the corner by gritting my teeth.  We're not even through the first course yet and already the buffoon is gasping and spilling his seed into his own hand.  More than likely, he'll retreat to one of the other nineteen bedrooms in this sprawling monstrosity of a home and fall asleep, leaving me to deal with his wife alone.  Not that I'm complaining – I much prefer it that way – but I can only imagine what kind of a man would be comfortable leaving his pride and joy to find solace in another man's arms.  More often than not, my clients' husbands know nothing about what goes on behind closed doors.  If anyone asks, I'm simply the 'interior designer'.
   “Cock,” Clarice moans, letting her head fall back and bending her legs at the knees.  The head of my dick presses tight against her opening, sliding slick cum over her heat.  But I don't enter her.  I'm not here to pummel her pussy and roll away satisfied.  If Mrs. Braxton simply wanted a stallion to ride, there are a hundred other men in this city that she could've called for a fraction of the price.  My phone only rings when there are darker desires to satisfy, cravings that delve much deeper than simple sex.
    I pull away and let my smile morph into a grin.
   “No, please,” Clarice whimpers, much like she always does.  “I need it.  Just … have sex with me, please.”  My mouth twitches and my hands clench tight at my sides.  She can't even say fuck.  After all these sessions, all these dirty romps, these forays into the depths of darkness, and she can't say the Goddamn F-word.
    “Fuck,” I snap, sliding my withering cock back into the confines of my slacks.  Clarice sits up quickly, brushing her French tipped nails through her blonde hair.  Trophy wife.  The term was coined to describe this woman, this twenty-something beach bunny married to a fifty year old man.  Disgusting.  I have had it for today.  Clarice has had me over before – she knows better than to piss me off.  “Fuck me, Clarice.  We have had this discussion.”  My dick is soft now, flaccid and useless.  “So I'm going home.”
    I turn around and grab my briefcase, laying my suit jacket over my arm.  One quick glance at Mr. Braxton shows that he's already asleep in the ostentatious wingback chair that sits near the window.  I try desperately not to roll my eyes.
   “W-wait!” Clarice calls out, scrambling off of the bed and chasing after me.  I ignore her when she tugs on my arm and tries to stop me from heading out the door of her bedroom.  “I can say it.  Fuck me.  Fuck me, Lucas.”  I slide easily from her grasp and manage to step into the hallway before she gloms onto me again.  My scowl feels permanently etched into my skin at this point.  I'm an artist whose medium is flesh and blood and sex.
   “I am not a whore, Clarice,” I tell her as we move past the open door of a bedroom and the blasé stare of one of the Braxton's many maids.  They've seen it all and more, I'm sure.  Not once have I ever seen a single one of them blink at my presence, not even when I'm ramming Mrs. Braxton in a sex swing dangling off the edge of the balcony overlooking the foyer.  Heights.  The danger of falling is one of the few things that really gets Clarice off.  That, apparently, and my utter distaste for her personality.
   “I know, and I'm sorry, please.  Lucas, come on.”  Clarice follows me halfway down the curving staircase before I stop and turn to her, her chest heaving, breasts full and admittedly quite tempting.  I lean over and whisper in her ear.
   “Stop begging like the desperate little slut that you are, and maybe I'll consider fucking you next time.”  I watch out of the corner of my eye as her lashes flutter and her breath comes quicker.  Insults.  A fairly tame breed of naughty, but one that Mrs. Braxton likes all the same.  I step back and continue down the stairs, debating on whether or not I'm going to stop in the gaudy gold and white marble bathroom near the front door.  My hands are still sticky with my cum, and the sensation is making my teeth hurt.  I'm a meticulous man, and I like to be clean.
   “You're seriously leaving?” Clarice wheedles as I hit the bottom stair and pause with one foot on the ugly travertine floor.  I spare her a quick glance over my shoulder and find a frown plastered across those red, red lips.  “The check cleared, didn't it?” she snaps when she sees me make no move to  turn around.
    My scowl returns with a vengeance.
   “I already told you: I am not a whore.”  Fuck.  I hate repeating myself.  I continue towards the front door, pausing only when a vase smashes into the ground next to my feet, shattering into a million white and blue pieces.  I don't bother to look back when Clarice starts screeching at me.
   “You are a whore.  An overpriced one at that.  Get over yourself, Lucas.  You have sex for money!”      
    Okay, now that does give me pause.  A smile replaces my scowl as I turn around and give Mrs. Braxton my most evil look.
    “Then you and I, my darling, are one in the same.  Next time Mr. Braxton is busy riding your ass, think of me to get through it.  I'll consider that a freebie.”
     A small angel statue comes flying over the railing of the balcony, crashing into a gilded mirror not six feet from where I'm standing.

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