Delilah Devlin's Blog, page 547

A Long Howl coming in 3, 2, 1…

If you post a comment today, you'll be in the running

for a free download of any backlisted Immortal Knight book!

The name of yesterday's winner is at the bottom of this post.

In case you didn't know, I have this whole My Immortal Knight series with Ellora's Cave. My first MIK book sold in 2003, and I've been lazily adding to it as I go—in between a whole lot of other books. I can't get away from the MIKs, because I love them so much.

The second of the MIK books that highlighted werewolves was Relentless. It's one of my favorite stories because the hero is so very intense, so completely alpha. You'll see what I mean.

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"RELENTLESS has suspense, intrigue, and surprises that grab your attention and never let you go until the last page." 5 Stars from JERR

"A wickedly funny and passionate series, fans of paranormal erotic romance will enjoy RELENTLESS tremendously. Ms Devlin has done it again!" Romance Reviews Today

To supercop Max Weir, the only good vampire is a dead one. Since his special police unit integrated with vampires, he's had to suppress his natural hatred to work side-by-side with the undead to hunt down and terminate the deadliest killers. Now the unit is hot on the trail of a new menace in town, a pack of werewolves prowling for vampires, who don't care whether humans get in their way.

When a stakeout goes awry, Max enters a bar looking for a fight or a woman to help him blow off a little steam. What he finds is a winsome siren who has sexual appetites to match his own.

Vampire Pia D'Amato is on a secret mission to take out Max—either by seduction or by turning him. He's become a liability to the Masters' Council setting up jurisdiction in southern Florida, and she isn't leaving until she's done the job. But Max is more man than she bargained for and has a deadly secret of his own.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Max pushed through the door of the bar determined that tonight he'd either get shit-faced or fucked. Which, didn't matter. So long as he could blow off the steam that had been gathering a head since the botched mission hours before. The bar was a regular haunt—only a block from his house. If need be, he could crawl home. The smoky air, the loud grinding music, and the smell of stale beer appealed when he had an axe to grind.

The SU had swept the area for signs of the wolves that killed the vampires before turning on the humans in a mutilating frenzy. Their bloody paw prints led beyond the house to a gravel road where they'd disappeared. The pack had made their getaway in cars. This hadn't been a roaming band's target of opportunity, but a takedown.

The grim faces of the vampires telegraphed their worry. He hoped they were shaking in their boots. Not that the thought of a rogue wolf pack wasn't just as unsettling to Max.

But seeing the cocksure Quentin lose his perpetual smirk was gratifying. Dylan had been grim-faced and pale. Perhaps the bastard saw his own fate in the house.

However, Joe's silence had been the most telling. He hadn't looked the least bit surprised.

Max made his way through the tables ringing a small dance floor. The place was nearly empty, save for the men hovering near the bar for the night's last drinks. The tension in his shoulders knotted tighter. All it would take would be one smart-ass comment. He hungered for an excuse to drive his fist through something.

The crowd parted, and a flash of a slim white ankle snagged his attention. Every trace of anger, bitter regret, and frustration coalesced into a single, burning need.

The men blocking his view shifted, and the ankle drew his glance upward to a bare knee. The woman's legs parted, and one slid atop the other. Her foot sawed up and down, and a slender, functionless sandal dangled from the tips of her painted toes. God, he wanted to help her lose the shoes altogether.

He advanced toward the men standing between him and his goal. Their faces registered annoyance for only a moment before they stepped aside. The hard hunger that rode his belly must have turned his face into an implacable mask.

As he drew near, her shape was revealed one tantalizing curve at a time. Sweetly turned hips were clothed in a stretchy black skirt that ended at the top of her thighs—not a hint of underwear marred the smooth fit. Conveniently tied behind her neck, a miniscule top bared the gleaming, supple skin of her back and midriff—again, no sign of a bra. Her nipples puckered invitingly against the black fabric that barely contained the apple-like curves of her small breasts.

Finally, his gaze rose to her face. She could have been a whole lot less than appetizing, and he'd still have wanted her on the merits of that ride-able frame. But her face only made him more determined to have her.

Large, doe-like eyes, framed by thick lashes, blinked as she caught his stare. Her upper lip was a fraction fuller than the lower and inspired delicious, succulent fantasies. Her face was round, her jaw small, and a thumbprint dimple carved her chin into two delicious halves. His tongue itched to slide along that little notch.

As he reached the bar, he drew a deep breath, eager to catch the scent of her perfume. He wasn't disappointed. The woman smelled like sex. Hot, nasty, spicy sex.



His body hardened along with his intentions. With only a fleeting thought for how aggressive he might appear, he loomed over her, his gaze sweeping downward. When he glanced back up to her eyes, he schooled his expression into something shy of predatory. He didn't want to frighten her away before he'd even learned her name.

Instead of looking intimidated or frightened by his intensity, as so many women would have, she raised a single dark eyebrow. She didn't say a word, just returned his stare. Somehow, her bold action felt out of sync with the wariness lurking in her eyes.

Then he noticed the movement of her throat as she swallowed. Did he make her nervous?

Her expression betrayed no such fear. Part amusement and part calculation, it changed as her gaze dropped from his face to sweep down his chest and lower. Interest with only a hint of alarm flared her nostrils and tightened her jaw, causing her to open her mouth to take a deeper breath.

She had good reason to be wary. If she told him to back off, he'd be hard pressed to obey. Every male chromosome in his body screamed at his groin to take her.

His gaze never leaving hers, he took a deep, calming breath and forced himself to follow the ritual. "Can I buy you a drink?"

"I'm not thirsty." Her voice pleased him. Feminine, but not too dainty, with a hint of aged whiskey.

Undeterred, he nodded to the bartender hovering behind her. "Two draft beers."

Her brown eyes narrowed, but she remained silent.

He raised an eyebrow. "Maybe I'm just thirsty."

"Or impossibly arrogant," she muttered, just loud enough for him to hear.

He bit back a grin. "I haven't seen you here before," he said, and then cursed himself for using such a tired line.

"I'm new to the area," she said, sounding bored. Her foot sawed faster.

Great! They sounded like trained parrots. How could he think of conversation when all he wanted was to slide his hands around her naked back? "What's your name?"

"Pia."

Pia. Cute name, a little sassy like she was. Or rather, like he thought she might be if he could just figure out how to get her talking.

At least she hadn't tried to bolt. He leaned past her to reach for one of the beers the bartender laid behind her on the bar. He held it out.

Her hands remained in her lap, her expression defiant.

Well, hell! His luck wasn't running any better. He lifted the glass and gulped the foam.

She watched him, her eyes following the movement of his throat. Her tongue licked her full lower lip.

Before he gave it a thought, he handed her the same beer again.

Rather than pouring it on his shoes, her hands slid around the glass. Her gaze remained on the beer.

Satisfaction throbbed in his belly. She'd probably like an introduction before he asked her to go home with him. "Name's Max."

Her lips pressed together and then curved into a smile that stretched the full lower lip. The lady had a rather large mouth. It was perfect. "As in Maximus?"

The smile warmed him while giving him confidence he hadn't totally blown it. He shifted his feet and stepped closer, bringing her crossed legs between his. "Do you doubt it?" he asked, his voice low.

Her head tilted back, and a frown drew together her finely arched brows. "Do you think I'm impressed with your caveman tactics?"

His glance slid down to her breasts. Her headlights were erect little points that stabbed toward him. "Damn right," he said, hoping he hadn't read her body language wrong.

With a toss of her hair, she uncrossed her legs, her knee caressing the inside of his thigh. "Sorry about that," she murmured, although she didn't look sorry at all. She'd just checked him out.

His heart kicked into a slow, thrumming throb. The lady knew where this was leading. She'd accepted his beer.

The part of him that had tensed in pursuit relaxed. She could be his if he didn't overplay his cards. And he had a decision to make. Savor a slower rise to climax or take her hard and fast? "Dance with me."

She shook her head, which swept the ends of her curly brown hair across the tops of her bare shoulders. "I don't dance."

He reached for the beer she held in her lap and set it on the bar. His fingers closed around her slender wrist, and he tugged her up from the stool.

"What do you think you're doing?" She tottered on her heels for a moment, and her nipples brushed his chest. Her gaze, wide-eyed, set his heart thumping in a slower, heavier beat. He swept his arm around her waist and pulled her along to the dance floor. He needed her in his arms now.

They were the only couple on the small square of parquet-printed linoleum. Max didn't give her a chance to protest, he simply pressed his body to hers—chest to hip, and slid his leg between her thighs. The heavy, grinding rhythm of the rock music suited his mood just fine. He shifted on his feet from side to side, not so much a dance as foreplay. His body introducing itself to hers.

She stiffened inside the circle of his arms. "Do you ever pay attention to what a woman tells you?" she asked, her words clipped.

Encouraged she hadn't hauled off and slapped him yet, he leaned down to whisper in her ear, "Sweetheart, I was listening, but not to what your lips were saying."

Her head jerked back, and her gaze bored into his. "Perhaps you should."

The look halted him in his tracks. He'd pushed her too hard. "All right." Sighing his regret, he stepped away. "I'm sorry. I misread the situation."

But she didn't walk away as he expected. Instead, her head tilted to the side, and she studied his face for a long moment, her teeth worrying her lower lip.

He wiped his expression free of hunger, hoping for another chance.

Finally, she looked around the bar and shrugged. "Well, seeing as I'm here…"

He didn't wait for her to change her mind. He pulled her into his arms.

She nestled her face in the crook of his neck and groaned. "This is happening too fast."

Relaxing to savor the sensations, he chuckled and pulled her closer. "I know what you mean," he murmured. A dark, musky floral scent rose from her hair and skin, wrapped him in heat.

Her arms snuck up around his neck, and her small, firm breasts pressed against his chest.

Once again pretending to dance, he shifted her slightly to glide her nipples across his chest. They'd been erect before their bodies met—they were hardened little bullets now.

"Do you think you'll overcome every one of my objections as easily?" she asked, her breath gusting gently in his ear.

"I promise you won't have one when the time comes." He lifted his leg and rubbed his thigh against her crotch.

Her head fell back, and her chocolate eyes glinted with amusement. "Sure of yourself, aren't you?"

He was getting there. He leaned down to whisper in her ear. "I smell your arousal."

Her breath gasped, but she didn't pull away. A tremor shook her body. "Do you think you're just going to get a quick—"

Placing a finger over her lips to shut her up, he said, "Whoa, sweetheart." He nuzzled her cheek. "Nothing about this'll be quick. This is just the appetizer." He bent his neck and kissed her sleek shoulder.

Her head fell back exposing her creamy throat, inviting him to slide his lips along her throat—which he did.

"You sound like you're going to eat me," she said, half-laughing, half-moaning.

Max stiffened and spoke between tightened lips, "I will, if you ask me sweetly."

Again, she gasped, following with a burst of soft, strained laughter.

Not the outright "yes" he hoped for, but promising just the same. He wished he had a glib tongue so he could put her at ease, but his body was too insistent, too ready to pounce for him to think straight.

Every sense tuned to her. Her body draped languidly across his chest. Her legs slid along either side of his thigh, and he wondered if she wanted another rough caress. He decided to test her by rubbing his thigh against her femininity.

She moaned—a sexy sound that made his dick throb.

His hands glided over her back, then smoothed to her sides. With his thumbs, he caressed the edges of her breasts. She didn't stiffen in his arms. "Look at me," he said.

Her head tilted back. Her eyes were wide open.

He swept his thumbs beneath the fabric of her top and went straight for the ripe little berries at the center of her breasts.

Her gaze darted beyond his shoulder to the bar.

"They can't see a thing. It's too dark." He swooped down to capture her lips.

Sounding like a kitten, she whimpered, pressing hard against his thumbs. Her hands clutched his shoulders.

He raked her tongue with his, and then swept around her mouth to touch her teeth, the roof of her mouth, before he pulled away to drag air into his lungs. "Baby, I want a bed beneath your back for what I'm gonna do to you." No way could he be subtle or patient with this one. She has to want this as much as I do…

Again, her throat moved. "And if I can't wait?"

He stilled for a moment, and then muttered, "Christ!" His need crowded insistently against the placket of his jeans. With a quick glance around the bar for the nearest exit, he pulled her down a hallway and into the restroom.

Once inside, he locked the door. Then he turned and stalked her, backing her into the old-fashioned wooden stall. "You have to spell it out for me. Do you want me to stop?"

Her eyes rounded. "I don't know. I don't know you."

His jaw clamped tight. "I won't hurt you. Or at least I'll try not to."

Her tongue wet her lips. "Good enough," she whispered.

Max palmed her breast with one hand; his other hand glided up her bare thigh and pushed up her short skirt. He went straight to the scrap of nylon covering her sex. He tipped the lid of the toilet closed with the toe of his boot and sat.

The woman, Pia, wasted no time climbing onto his lap, her thighs straddling him. Her breasts were level with his mouth, and she pushed the hem of her cropped top up, exposing them.

Max took the hint and groaned, rooting with his lips until he held a burgeoning nipple between them.

She grasped the back of his head, pushing her breast deeper into his mouth. Her sex ground against the hard ridge of his cock, riding him, wriggling her hips so eagerly he thought he might spill his seed in his pants like a teenager.

He dragged his mouth from her breast. "Wait." He pushed her off his lap and stood, then placed his hands on the sides of her waist and lifted her high. "Hold onto the top of the stall, sweetheart."

Quickly catching his drift, she spread her arms wide across the top of the wooden stall and gripped the edge. He hefted her higher and stepped backward. She "lay", suspended from the top of the stall, her legs parted and draped over his shoulders. His face was poised at the opening of her legs.

He glanced up at her flushed face. "I did say I'd eat you, if you asked sweetly."

The winner of yesterday's contest (by random number generator), and pulled from entrants here on this blog and Facebook, is…Staci Whiteside! Congrats, Staci! Be sure to email me with your choice from my backlisted MIK titles!

A Long Howl coming in 4, 3, 2, 1…

If you post a comment today and you'll be in the running

for a free download of any backlisted Immortal Knight book!

Rather than whine again today about my lack of progress with my current book, I'm going to start getting you revved up for the new book coming your way on October 27th. It's set in the Immortal Knights' universe—a werewolf story featuring wolves from Dark Mountain, North Carolina.

Since I have four days, I thought I might remind you of furry highlights from books past. This first excerpt is from All Knight Long, originally published in March 2004.

(Psst! For those of you waiting on pressies in the mail, I do have a few more prize packages to prep for mailing, but I'm almost done!)

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"Vampires, werewolves, and babies — oh, my! ALL KNIGHT LONG is a sensual and thrilling ride into the world of the paranormal." Romance Review Today

A member of an elite police unit sworn to hunt vampires, Joe Garcia's life is turned upside down when he's transformed into one. On a quest for a cure, his search brings him to New Orleans in a last ditch effort to recover his humanity.

Professor Lily Carlson, a renowned expert in vampire lore, has a "condition" of her own. Her sexual libido has been in hyper-drive for months. Her only defense is to hide behind her glasses and tweed suits and stay as far away from men as possible. However, she's thrilled to discover vampires really do exist when Joe shows up on her balcony.

Although Joe deflects her attempts to make him a case study and confirm a few vampire statistics, he is drawn by her powerful allure. When werewolves join the chase and track her through New Orleans, Joe's cop instincts tell him there's a mystery to solve. Intent on protecting her, he must seek help from the last vampire on Earth he wants to ask. While his hopes for deliverance from his fate dwindle, Lily's life is forever altered by an unexpected "inheritance".

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"Now, Miss Lily. I would read your cards." Madame Leveque slid the deck across the table toward her.

Joe slid from the chair and held it out for Lily. Lily sat and carefully shuffled the deck, before handing it back to the old woman. Joe placed his hands on Lily's shoulders and he felt some of her tension ease.

Again, Madame drew three cards. As soon as the first was turned, all three people leaning over the table laughed.

"The Queen of Wands! Appropriate, non? A woman of passion and energy. You are fond of nature—wild things, yet you are practical."

The second card brought the tension back. A man dangled by his foot from a rope that hung in the air.

"The Hanged Man. Dis indicates you'll experience suspense and change. There may be sacrifice for great gain, or a search for inner truth. A change in point of view may be needed."

"But what does that mean?" Lily asked.

Madame settled back in her chair and folded her hands on her stomach. "Your choices have brought you to dis point. Now it is up to you to gain wisdom from your search for truth."

Lily shook her head, but Joe squeezed her shoulders. He wanted to see the next card.

Madame's hands remained on her belly and she smiled at Lily. "Turn the next one, my dear."

Lily reached a tentative hand to the card, and Joe had to smile. For all her professions of belief in empirical proof, she was enthralled. She flipped the card.

A beautiful woman blended two bowls of water into a single stream.

"It is called 'The Star' and represents the blending of the past and present. An awareness and acceptance of two worlds." Madame glanced pointedly between Lily and Joe.

Feeling a little mesmerized, Joe murmured, "Thanks, Madame."

She nodded her acceptance, and then swept her hand toward the sofa. "Please, take a seat and we'll talk. "

Joe held his hope in check and sat down. Dragging a hand through his hair, he tried to figure out a place to begin.

"Joe wants to be human again."



Joe smiled ruefully. Lily's eagerness eclipsed his.

Madame's dark gaze seemed to look straight through him. "What about your new existence can't you accept?"

"I'm a damn parasite!" Frustration made his reply angrier than he'd intended. "I feed off humans."

"Do you take more than they can give?"

His hands dug into his thighs. "Sometimes, I want to. It's hard to fight the hunger."

"God gives us all tests."

"I don't think God has anything to do with my current state." Darcy and her bloodsucking boyfriend do!

Madame nodded. "I think you will find your mortality."

He stared, hope rising. He leaned forward. "How? What do I have to do?"

"You must face your past. Go home."

Not what he wanted to hear. He shook his head and looked at Lily. Her bleak expression reflected his heart's dismay. "I don't understand."

"I can't tell you anythin' more."

His head dipped. He'd come all this way only to hear that he had to go home. Something he already knew.

"Madame," Lily's voice broke through his disappointment, reminding him of the other danger lurking. "There's one other problem I need your advice concerning."

The old woman reached across the table and took Lily's hand. She turned the palm upward. "You haven't figure it out yet, have you child?"

"What?"

"Tell me first. What disturbs you?"

"There are so many things. I have intense…cravings. And then there's this …thing following me."

Madame tilted her head toward Joe. "Does this man satisfy your…cravings?"

Lily nodded her head, blushing.

"Then isn't your problem solved?"

"What I feel isn't normal." Lily gripped the edge of the table. "I want too much. Besides, he's leaving." She shrugged her shoulders and bit her lip. "And then there's the other…thing."

"The wolves? Do wolves follow you now?"

Lily exchanged a shocked glance with Joe before dragging her gaze back to the woman. "Yes. Or at least one does."

Madame turned to Joe. "The only way to keep them from her is to take her with you."

Joe nodded. "Why do they follow her?"

"For the same reason you do." Her little smile told him he wouldn't like what she said next. "To mate."

His body tightened. "Is it because of her increased sex drive?" he asked. "Do they smell her constant need?"

Lily's eyes darkened and Joe recognized the signs of her growing arousal. Just the mention of sex and she was primed.

"It is dat. And something more," the old woman said, her expression growing amused. She hadn't missed the exchange between Joe and Lily.

Frustrated with her cryptic comments, Joe blurted, "Why do they follow her?"

"Because she leaves her scent all over the city. She's in heat."

* * *

Lily slid the strap of her handbag over her shoulder and shivered despite the balmy night air. Still reeling from shock, she wrapped her arms around her middle and stumbled toward Bourbon Street. "I'm one of them?"

"You heard what she said." His words were clipped, his face hard as stone. "Not yet." His hand pressed the small of her back, hurrying her along. "Although, I'm wondering why you'd fight the change! The wolves don't mean you any harm. They just want to fuck you. Something you want."

Anger burned away the chill. "So I should just give into my nature? I should let any Duke or Fido take me because my body is ready to breed? That's so hypocritical coming from you! Why do you fight what you are?"

"I wasn't born to be a vampire. You were born to be a werewolf."

"Well, I don't accept that."

"Now you know how I feel. Neither do I."

He sounded so angry she felt like crying. Didn't he care strange werewolves wanted to mate with her? "I don't want them. Besides, I won't just get pregnant—I'll whelp! I could have a whole litter of puppies." That thought led to another more horrifying. "Oh God, does that mean I'll grow a row of breasts?"

They reached the corner and turned right onto the busy thoroughfare, blending with the strolling crowd.

"You think that's a problem?" Joe asked, his voice purring close to her ear.

Cream trickled down to soak another panty liner. That's all it took. One sexy rumble from this man and she was ready to shuck her pants in the nearest alley and have a go. She was insatiable. No. She was in heat!

"Shouldn't you be eager to get home and start taking notes?" he asked. "You've obviously been studying the wrong breed."

She dug in her heels. "Stop it!" She rounded on him, her hands clenched. "There's no need to be snide."

The hard set of Joe's jaw indicated he wasn't ready to let go of his anger.

Lily wondered if he even knew why he was angry. "You can't just give me over to them."

Joe stepped close, crowding her against a wall. "Course not," he said. His head lowered until his face was inches from hers. His eyes glittered dangerously. "I thought you'd bake them up a bunch of doggie treats and invite them over."

Ignoring the amused stares from passersby, she grabbed a fistful of his shirt and pulled him closer. "I don't want them. I want you."

He planted his hands against the wall on either side of her shoulders, trapping her inside his embrace. "Well, that's too bad. I told you, I'm not staying."

Lily licked her lips, enjoying a little thrill of power when his smoldering gaze followed the motion. "You could take me with you."

A muscle in his jaw rippled. "Not possible."

Her hands swept up to caress the hills of his chest. "You didn't seem so averse to that thought when Madame Leveque first mentioned it."

"That was before I knew my interest was chemically induced. You're not any more human than I am."

Lily flinched as though he'd slapped her. "What? You think this thing we have going is all about werewolf pheromones?"

"Isn't it?" The muscle along his jaw rippled again and his nostrils flared. He ground his crotch against her belly. "Baby, it makes me as crazy as it does you. You wouldn't care if I dry-humped you right here, would you?" He slid his knee between her legs and raised it to grind against her pussy. "Would I have followed you to your apartment if I hadn't already been snared by your scent?"

"Silly me," Lily said around a gasp, her body already climbing the peak. "I actually thought my irresistible personality might have had something to do with it." The tips of her breasts swelled and she rubbed herself shamelessly against his chest while she rode his thigh.

His mouth slammed down on hers, his tongue stabbing between her lips.

Lily kissed him back with all the love she had. He thought this was just chemistry—an artificially induced arousal. She knew better. She'd fought her urges for months until this man presented himself on her balcony.

Joe groaned into her mouth and lifted his knee higher.

It was just enough to send her over the edge. Her whole body stiffened. Wide-eyed with shock, her body convulsed—her thighs clamping around his leg as waves of shuddering contractions gripped her empty vagina.

Slowly, the tight coil of desire in her belly unraveled. Spent, her body and mouth slackened. If not for Joe's knee still rammed between her legs, she would have melted to the ground.

Joe gave her a final sliding kiss and lowered his knee. His gaze smoldered darkly. "See what I mean? You'd let me take you anywhere."

Suddenly tired and near tears, Lily let go of his shirt and leaned back against the wall. "Why don't you just go now? You're wasting nighttime."

He stepped back a pace so their bodies no longer touched. "I'll see you home, first."

"You don't need to do that. I'm not in any danger, remember? They just want to fuck me. Something I want, right?"

"I'll see you home."

Lily felt like screaming. Any moment now she was going to break into a million pieces. "Joe, they won't harm me, but they'll kill you."

"They'll try."

"Only because you stand between them and me. I don't want you hurt because of me. You should just go."

"For all we know, there's only the one wolf. Even odds. What are the chances of a pack existing here in New Orleans?" His face tilted and suspicion twisted his mouth. "Or would you like that? A half dozen wolves nosing around your pussy?"

Lily stared, her heart breaking. He hadn't a clue how she felt—and he wouldn't care if he did. She turned on her heels and walked away from him.

"You're going the wrong way," he called after her.

She ignored him and walked faster.

"Dammit! Lily stop!"

She was running now, blinded by the tears streaming down her face.

Heavy hands landed on her shoulders, bringing her to a screeching halt. Lily didn't bother to turn. Instead, she drew ragged breaths and fought against more tears that burned the back of her throat.

"Baby, I'm sorry," Joe said. "I was out of line." His body pressed against her back.

Lily blinked rapidly. This was too humiliating. She'd thrown herself at him and been turned down cold. His pity was the last thing she wanted now.

"You sure don't run like a wolf," he said, next to her ear.

"I'm not," she said, hating that her voice sounded clogged with tears. "Not yet."

"That's right." His hands slid down her arms and encircled her middle.

Lily accepted his embrace, letting her head fall back against his chest. "But I'm a breeder. That's what she called it, right? I'm just a bite away from being canine. Sooner or later they'll find me—just like you did. By scenting me."

His hands closed around her shoulders and he shook her once. "You can fight it. You aren't turned yet."

"What am I supposed to do? Lock myself in my apartment every time I come into heat? Avoid anyone whose nose twitches when they draw near me?"

"Yes."

"What good will that do? I have to survive—I have to work. I'll meet some good-looking guy squeezing Charmin in the grocery store and my desire will overpower me. I'll let him take me home." She sniffed and rolled her head on his chest. "I won't be able to help it. One bite and it'll be finished."

Joe nuzzled her neck. "You're sure you don't want that? It might be easier to just go with the flow."

"You're not the one who's going four-legged." She scraped tears from her face. "I have no desire to run on all fours and smell other dog's butts. And think of the expense of all that waxing!"

Joe's shoulders shook. He turned her around, but she stubbornly kept her gaze on his oversized feet. He put a finger under her chin and brought her face up. By his crooked grin, she could tell he was exasperated.

Lily shrugged. "Think about it. No Remington razor will do the trick."

Joe drew his T-shirt over his head and used it to mop her face, ignoring the whistles from several grinning women as they walked by.

Lily scowled at every one of them.

"Let's get back to the car. We've got plans to make."

"Plans?"

"Like flight plans. And you need to pack."

Lily brought her gaze slowly up, hoping her heart wasn't shining in her eyes. She was so pathetic. "Don't say that unless you really want me with you."

Joe's eyes burned her like a four-alarm blaze. "Don't want you?" He pulled her hand down and forced her palm to follow the curve of his erection. His face was still hard. Still angry. But the remorse in his expression said the anger was for himself.

"Let's get back to my place quick," she said, her heart thrumming.

He grabbed her hand and pulled her back down Bourbon Street.

"Wait, put your shirt back on!"

He laughed and pulled her faster behind him.

She'd parked on another side street, but as soon as she turned the corner she knew something was wrong. She didn't need to have all her werewolf powers to know eyes followed her progress. "Joe?"

He slowed his pace and his head lifted. He sniffed at the air. "Yes. I know. They're here."

"What do we do now?" Her hand clutched at his like a lifeline.

"Make your choice, Lily."

What choice? A blood-drinking vampire or a pack of horny dogs? "I'm afraid."

"You can be what you were born to be, or you can come with me. But choose now."

"Damn, they followed my scent, didn't they? I should have bought that strawberry douche."

"What's it going to be?" he repeated.

"I think—" A low growl sounded from the far side of the street. " Run!"

Joe didn't need to hear her say it twice, he ducked down and his shoulder hit her belly. She draped over him like a rucksack, and he took off in the direction they'd just come.

Lily was glad for his strength and his speed. His feet ate up the pavement. She'd never have kept up. She leaned up and caught sight of a man straightening from his hiding place beside her car. The man from the diaper aisle! He leapt to the sidewalk and ran after them, tearing away his T-shirt and ripping open his pants.

What the hell was he doing?

He stopped for a second and pushed his jeans down his legs, and then he was running after them, again. Lily had a glimpse of his powerful, nude body as his legs stretched to increase their pace. Then he was changing, morphing, his face growing longer, fur sprouting all over his body. He lunged and he was running on all fours, his transformation complete. A werewolf!

She would have told Joe, but she hadn't the wind to scream with her body bobbing on his shoulder. Faster! Run faster, she wanted to say. The wolf was closing in on them.

Then there was a second wolf, loping into view from another side street—and another. They drew closer—so close she could see their eyes glowing like flat, gold disks in the light from the street lamps, their tongues lolling from the sides of their mouths.

At that moment, she was sure she didn't want to be a werewolf. A lolling tongue was not something she ever wanted to aspire to. Faster, Joe!

Joe turned onto Bourbon Street, but didn't slow his pace. She heard screams and lifted her head again to see the wolves loping around the corner. Exposure to the crowds didn't seem to be a deterrent. Her pheromones must indeed be a powerful thing.

Lily heard the squeal of brakes and a loud horn.

"Mister! This way! Get in the car!"

Lily found herself tossed onto the vinyl back seat of a taxi. Joe jumped on top of her. Heedless of the fact they were only half inside the car, the driver hit the gas.

Joe hauled her the rest of the way inside and slammed the door. Lily pushed Joe to the floor of the cab and scrambled on the seat to look out the rear window. The taxi was pulling away from the wolves. One by one, they stopped, their heads low to the ground, chests billowing, as they watched the taxi leave them in the dust.

Lily turned to Joe and for the first time realized the screams she'd heard could just as well have been for him. His wore his monster face.

He'd collapsed against the back of the seat, dragging lungfuls of air into his chest.

"Joe!" she hissed.

His eyes shone like the wolves in the dim light when he turned toward her.

"Your face!" She tilted her head toward the driver.

Joe took several deep breaths and his face reformed into the handsome one she preferred.

"Holy shit! Did you see that?" the taxi driver said, excitement in his voice. "What did you two do to piss those dogs off? Steal their bone?"

Not So Tough

"I survived because I was tougher than everyone else." Bette Davis

I can claim "tough".

I served 14.5 years in the U.S. Army (including a stint in the Middle East during the Gulf War), plus another 7 in the Guard.

I gave birth to a 10.5 pound kid without so much as an aspirin.

I worked full time, wrote full time, and put up with a 3-hour commute each day.

So why do I want to whine like a 5-year-old because I'm up at the butt-crack of dawn now and can't go back to sleep?

It's my own damn fault. I looked at my calendar, carved up what I still had to accomplish for the rest of the month, then did a little backward planning to come up with my To Do list for the next few days. Today's has a hellish 30 items I need to get through to keep on track. I've been making great headway on the Viking story, but shoved everything else aside this week to make sure I kept focused on goal #1, but I can't afford to let all the other little things slide either. They add up. And they keep my edgy.

So, here I am at O-dark-thirty, getting the the first thing scratched off my battle list. And if I'm reverting to Army-speak, it's because I feel like I need to roll out today like I'm getting ready to cross the LD (the line designated to coordinate the departure of attack elements). Hooah!

Bad Moon Rising, Chapter 4 is here!

In case you hadn't heard, I have a free book that you, the readers, are helping me plot. You tell me what you want to have happen next, and I write it. Chapter 4 is finished and ready for you to enjoy. Follow the link at the bottom of this post to my Free Story page and click on the chapter links to read them all.

Enjoy! And while you read, be thinking of what you'd like to see happen next to my intrepid heroine, DiDi Devereaux. Very soon, I'll be asking for your suggestions for what's next in Chapter 5. If an idea occurs to you while you're reading now, be sure to post that idea in the comments.

Comment anyway to let me know how your story is going so far. ~DD

*~*~*~*~*

On a whim, romance author DiDi Devereaux decides to travel to remote Louisiana bayou country to take possession of a house she inherited from a reclusive relative. But before she reaches her destination, she drives her car into a ditch to avoid a large animal that leaps into her path. Rescue comes in the form of a sexy sheriff, whose gruff demeanor seems to hide a feral attraction. As DiDi settles into her new home she finds herself torn between her attraction to the sheriff and the raw, handsome bad boy whose offer to help her renovate her home is a little too convenient and tempting.

Nothing in Bayou Noir is what it seems. When strange things begin to happen, her natural curiosity leads her into danger…

Read the first four chapters

Guest Blogger: Dita Parker

Praise You

By Dita Parker

I'm on Delilah's blog, I'm on Delilah's blog… *chants* What? I think she's a pretty fabulous author with the track record to match. What is a rookie like me to do but flaunt a little?

Speaking of which, I need to ask you all a favor. I'd like to play a game today. A really simple one and everyone's eligible to enter. You see, I picked up a beauty magazine at the hairdresser's the other day and instantly remembered why I gave those up sometime during the last century: they make you feel ugly. Conveniently, they also offer the remedy to all the insecurities and inferiorities of their own making on the very next page because that's what they're selling, both the disease and the cure.

Screw them. I think there's nothing more beautiful than someone who is comfortable in their own skin, and it has nothing to do with what we're being sold or told. So what I want to do today is hear you flaunt your fannies off. I don't want to know what you'd change about yourself if you could, I want to know what you wouldn't trade for the world. I don't want you to compare yourself to anyone, living or dead, and say you wish you looked like so-and-so, I want you to tell me what you like about yourself. When we're done, keep telling yourself that, with conviction, with a vengeance, and don't let anyone tell you otherwise. Okay? Okay.

To get you going, I'll go first. I like my eyes, golden brown stars spreading on olive green. My nails are strong and healthy, so is my hair. Wavy, wash and go, always a plus when you don't have the time or the inclination to spend gargantuan portions of time in front of the bathroom mirror each morning. You know what else is naturally curvy? My figure. I got hips and shoulders and I've got a butt, but I've also got a waist, a proportional hourglass I think looks pretty nice.

That wasn't so hard. It actually felt quite good, and that's saying a lot when you're originally from Europe where they teach you self-aggrandizement is the eighth deadly sin. Luckily, I grew up elsewhere.

Before I forget, thank you, Delilah, for the spotlight! Now let's turn it on you. Don't be shy and do not be modest. Show me the pretty, the beautiful, what you love about yourselves, and shine on!

Yours truly madly deeply,

Dita Parker

http://ditaparker.blogspot.com

Catch me today at Everything Erotic!

I'm blogging today at Everything Erotic. If you've never visited the site, it's chock full of smutty delights from reviews of sex toys, informative articles about sexual mores of the past, and best of all, erotic fiction!

I'm going to be sharing the story I contributed to the Lambda award-winning anthology, Lesbian Cowboys. The first installment goes up this morning. Stop by to check out the site and be sure to say hello!

Find me at Vampire Chix today!

Hey there! It's my turn to guest blog. I'm hanging out today at the Vampire Chix blog! Come on over and say hi, and be sure to enter the contest for a chance to win a free autographed book! While I'm playing hooky, I'll be working on getting the books and gifts ready to go that have accumulated in my To Be Mailed stack. Ugh! I need an assistant.

Drop by! I'd love to see some familiar faces. ~DD

Sunday Report Card

Before I get to my report card, I want to express some heartfelt gratitude.

Thanks to reviewers for the following lovely comments:

From Fresh Fiction on Darkness Captured: "Another hot read of dark sensuality, riveting situations and jaw-dropping desire."

5 Stars (Orgasmic heat) from Just Erotic Romance for Bad, Bad Girifriend: "…Ms. Devlin puts you right in the thick of things and you feel the emotion that drives their decisions. The characters are well developed and the story is satisfying to the end. Make no mistake, this short is scorching HOT! So be careful, your toys may burst into flames…"

4/5 from Book of Secrets for Pleasing Sir: "…Delilah Devlin knows how to write a scorching hot short story!…There is a wickedly delicious twist at the very end that I don't want to give away. I'll just say that Raelie is one lucky girl!"

And huge thanks to readers, who've made Pleasing Sir and Four Sworn such stellar successes!

Amazon stats for Pleasing Sir:

Amazon stats for Four Sworn:

And, back to the report card…

I'm settling into a routine. One that has me running to the keyboard every spare moment I have. I have a six-year-old and a 20-month-old underfoot during the week, and they are both darling little time-suckers. But I am making progress.

I wrapped up the next installment of my serialized free read, Bad Moon Rising. I sent it through the Rose's critique group, and should have it back today. Then I'll revise quickly and ship it to my webmistress for her to put up on the site. Depending on how booked up she is, you should be able to read it by Tuesday or Wednesday.

I've also made progress on a new short for the Cleis collection, Women in Lust. I have a woman lusting over a trucker and taking matters into her own hands.

And then there's the Viking story. And, at last, I feel the groove. I've made significant progress and have the story in my head for the next few chapters, which means I will be able to whiz right through the pages. In between diaper changes.

(My T-shirt contest is still running. See last Saturday's post for details! ~DD)

For National Boss Day *wink*

Did you know that it's National Boss Day? Why on earth would they make it a Saturday where you wouldn't see your boss to tell him you appreciate him?

It works well for the Raelies of the world who only have to slide beneath the covers to show their bosses just how much they care.

In honor of all the bosses out there…

"…PLEASING SIR is a hot number. I loved how both of these characters suffered unrequited lust, only to find out they both were wanting the same thing. The way Raelie is so determined to get her man even as she becomes the submissive woman he wants her to be. Add in the sexy ménage a trois scenes and this is one tantalizing tale that will leave you panting for more." Coffee Time Romance

One adventurous little submissive is just what the bosses need…

Raelie might be a submissive in search of just the right Dom, but she's not the kind to sit back and wait for the right man to happen. When she gets the chance to fill in as Bryce Caldwell's executive assistant, she decides some subtle seduction is needed to see if he dominates the bedroom the same way he does the office.

Bryce can't keep his mind off the sexy blonde sitting just outside his office. Especially not after the security cameras in the copier room catch Raelie "misappropriating" office property. A little disciplinary action leads to a whole lot of complication while he tries to find out whether she's the right assistant to fulfill a special vacancy. Add a second round of interviews, and suddenly, Bryce is finding out he's not the only one who's not sure who's really in charge.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Note for Readers: You must be of legal age in your country of origin to read this excerpt.

Raelie bent to retrieve her purse from the bottom drawer of the EA's desk and slipped inside the panties and the copies she'd made.

Bryce's office door opened, and she straightened, knowing her face burned. She hoped he didn't intend to stay much longer, because she needed to get into the online copier folder and delete the pictures of her pussy.

"Do you have a minute, Ms. Wood?" he said, his words sounding clipped.

"Of course, sir," she said breathlessly, still horribly aroused. She'd wiped the copier glass with her panties, but knew she'd have to return with some Windex. She'd gushed arousal as the machine vibrated and heated beneath her bottom. She'd imagined Bryce looking at the pictures of her cunt, and she'd been transported.

His face looked so stern as she passed him upon entering his inner sanctum that she faltered for a moment, wondering if she'd been caught after all. However, Morgan sat on the dark leather couch inside. Surely, this was all about business. He wouldn't chastise her in front of another man. "Is there anything I can do for you before I leave, sir?"



Bryce's eyes narrowed, and he stared for a long, disconcerting moment.

Raelie fought the urge to fidget. If he was the guy, he'd want her to show greater self-control. Still, she couldn't help lifting her chin a notch and meeting his gaze.

A soft snort gusted from his otherwise implacable face. Then Bryce thrust a paper toward her.

Raelie glanced down, saw the picture of her genitals, and felt a flush of humiliation heat her cheeks and creep down her throat to the tops of her breasts. This was so not how she had imagined she'd feel in her fantasies. "I can explain…" she began, but couldn't continue when she looked up again.

His expression didn't betray a thing—not disgust or anger, and sadly not a hint of arousal. "Miss Wood, what were you thinking?" he said, his voice dead even.

She bit her lip, preparing a story then winced as he lifted a brow as if to say, I dare you to lie to me. But she did it anyway, although not with as much conviction as she might have wished. He was just too scary at the moment. "Um…I wanted to see my piercings?" She waited, and when he didn't immediately respond, blurted, "I'll pay for the toner and the paper, sir."

Bryce's eyes were fierce, frightening slits—completely sexy—which was not something she should be thinking right this moment. Not when she was about to be fired.

"This is misappropriation of office equipment," he rasped softly, like Dirty Harry to a perp. "A firing offense. What do you think I should do with you?"

Raelie froze, heat draining away as the blood left her face. "Perhaps you could suspend me instead?" she asked hopefully. After all…he'd asked.

"Suspension seems a little light for this kind of infraction," Morgan said from the sofa.

There wasn't of hint of teasing in his hard voice. Lord, had her sin been so bad that even Morgan Markham was shocked? Shame shivered through her. She closed her eyes. It was one thing for Bryce to see the picture. But Morgan too? What had she been thinking? She bent her head. "Maybe you could…" She bit her lip. The only retribution she could think of that she deserved seemed every bit as inappropriate as her "infraction"…and completely self-serving.

"What, Miss Wood?" Bryce insisted, stepping closer and folding his arms across his chest. "What do you think I should do?"

She didn't back away. Each shortened breath dragged in his spicy scent and warmed the parts that had burned when the copier light hit them. Slowly, she looked up. "Maybe you could…spank me?"

A choking sound came from the couch.

Bryce aimed a killing glare at his partner before focusing on her again. "Spank you? Does that seem an appropriate and professional punishment? It sounds like something the State Employment Board would definitely frown upon."

She quickly shook her head, although she knew her continued insistence could get her fired for sure. If she was about to get the boot, she couldn't blow this last chance at getting what she wanted. Her heartbeat echoed in her ears. Now or never. "I would never tell. I've wanted your attention for the longest time, sir."

Bryce blinked, his expression still neutral, but she saw a hint of tension in the grinding of his jaw. Then his gaze softened, fractionally.

His hesitation gave her hope. Raelie felt a rush of power sweep through her. If he was intrigued, here was a weakness she could exploit. She turned abruptly away and glanced over her shoulder—at him then at Morgan—and walked around him to his desk, bent over the gleaming wood, and reached back to inch up her skirt over her bare buttocks. "Just for the record, sir, you didn't ask me to do this."

"Looks like Bryce could be the one to scream sexual harassment," Morgan murmured. "Want me to leave, Bry, while you…uh, handle this?"

"We're partners," Bryce said, his voice still level. "It's our copier she abused."

Raelie faced forward and rose on her tiptoes, lifting her bottom higher. Seconds ticked by. The longer she laid there, her ass perked for them both to see every inch of her feminine anatomy, the more nervous she got. Her stomach clenched. Maybe she'd misinterpreted the signs and colored them with her own desires.

At last, the slide of leather through cloth told her he was removing his belt. She bit back a whimper at the thought, but a tiny groan slipped out.

"Are you afraid of my belt, Miss Wood?"

"Yes, sir," she said in a small tight voice, so excited she thought she'd melt from the inside out and end up a gooey puddle at the foot of his desk.

A warm, heavy hand cupped one cheek, molding it. Clothed thighs pushed against the backs of hers. Bryce leaned in and pinned her to the desk. "I've watched you, Miss Wood. You've been playing me all along, trying to seduce me, haven't you?"

"Yes, sir." What else could she say? She'd laid it all out, sacrificing her pride to reach this moment.

"I'm a particular kind of man," Bryce said. "Some might even say peculiar or deviant. Does that frighten you?"

Jesus, did he mean it the way she hoped? Her mouth went dry and she swallowed. "No sir, I'm not frightened."

"Just so we're clear. You can stop me at any time. Your job is not at risk. You can say no. Do you understand?"

She nodded eagerly, her excitement growing so intense she couldn't catch a full breath.

The hand on her ass squeezed. "I need an answer, Miss Wood."

Her pussy clenched, and moisture seeped to wet her folds. "Yes sir, I understand. You'll stop if I ask you to." She took a deep breath and deepened her voice, "This is consensual, something I need…so that I can be a better secretary."

A muffled laugh sounded from the sofa then leather creaked.

While her heart beat madly, Morgan walked around the other side of the desk to stand in front of her. He held his own belt in his hands. Had Bryce signaled him? She tried to glance behind her to see Bryce's face, but couldn't quite reach.

"Morgan's my partner, Miss Wood," he continued in his uninflected voice. "Some matters require joint disciplinary action. Do you have a problem with that?"

She swallowed hard. This was happening faster than she could have hoped, but she really didn't want the pace to slow. While she'd been teasing Bryce, she'd worked up her own arousal to a fever pitch. "No sir," she whispered, "you know best what punishment I deserve."

Morgan threaded the leather tongue of his belt through the buckle, forming a circle that he looped around her wrists. He drew the loop tight and pulled her arms toward him. Then he threaded the end through the handle of Bryce's center drawer.

Standing on her toes, with her body stretched across the surface of Bryce's desk, she was completely, deliciously helpless.

Morgan's fingers dug into her hair, and he lifted her head. "Had a feeling 'bout you for a while, Raelie Wood."

"Oh?" She didn't complete the thought. Her scalp stung, which only heightened her awareness of the cool wood beneath her and the heat radiating off the man standing behind her.

Bryce nudged apart her feet, widening her stance. When she was spread so wide she felt her inner lips gape open, she couldn't help the little shivering sob that escaped.

"Was that fear, baby girl?" Morgan asked, easing his grip on her hair and kneeling so his face was aligned with hers. "Or do you want this?"

She searched his face, looking for a clue of what he thought about the way she'd behaved or a hint of where this was going. But his expression remained bland. "Want," she groaned, hoping she'd given the right answer. Want trumped the trepidation that quivered through her body.

One brown eyebrow arched. The wicked twinkle was back in his eyes. "You've been teasing Bryce here until he's just about lost his mind."

"I'm sorry," she said, but allowed a little one-sided smirk, sharing a glimpse of the joke.

He tapped her nose then rubbed his thumb over her lower lip. "You should be. We have a business to run. What are you going to do to make this right?"

She licked her lips. "Whatever Mr. Caldwell feels is appropriate."

Morgan's eyelids dipped, but the laugh lines on either side of his mouth deepened. "So if he wants to spank your ass until it's pink…?"

"I want him to be pleased with my dedication. I'll trust that I deserved it."

His thumb slid along her lip again. "If I want to fuck your mouth…?"

Her mouth went instantly dry unlike her pussy which gave its moist approval. "With Mr. Caldwell's permission…" she said huskily.

"Does your cooperation depend on his being here?"

She nodded. "I'm his secretary."

Morgan grinned then shot a glance up at Bruce and nodded. "That's all right with me. How about you, Bryce?"

"She'll do what I tell her," Bryce growled. "If I want her to open her mouth for you to fuck, she'll do it. Won't you, Miss Wood?"

Raelie's excitement was so intense she didn't know how she managed to suppress a squeal. However she suspected that Bryce wouldn't be pleased at her loss of control. "Yes sir," she managed to mumble through tight lips.

"Morgan, she can't open your pants for you," Bryce drawled.

Next Cat Tails almost here!

Well, I finally wrapped up the next installment of Cat Tails: Bad Moon Rising. It's making it's way through my critique group this weekend. Once they redline the crap out of it (I slammed it, so I'm sure I have tons of typos), I'll ship it to my webmistress for her to format it and put a link to it on my Free Story page. So, if you haven't already read chapters one through three, you might want to head over there now to catch up! Chapter four is sexy and all about DiDi and Mason, so those of you who were a little worried that Bobby S might turn her head…well, not this time around.

Did I mention how hard it is to write a serialized story? Especially an erotic one? I have to keep my audience in mind, which means I have to figure out ways for DiDi to find herself without her clothes with some hot guy every single chapter. And except for chapter one which introduced the characters, I've managed it. I'll be looking for your help to plot the next installment, like always (this is your story!), so keep the need for it to be as erotic as hell in mind when I put out the call for what happens next. If you're new to how we've been working on this together, you might want to check out what the readers have helped me decide so far:

Cat Tails Plotting Posts

Here's an unedited snippet. So forgive any typos, choppiness, whatever. Enjoy!

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"DiDi, do you want me to kiss you?"

She rolled her eyes. "Please, or hell, I'll just ramble on and reveal some really embarrassing things because I was just working my way up to—"

His mouth landed on hers.

She hadn't known it, but she'd been as tight as a bow until he'd taken the initiative. Immediately, her body went boneless, relaxing as his arms surrounded her, taking responsibility for holding her upright.

His lips opened. She sighed into his mouth, then thrust her tongue inside, licking the edges of his teeth, stroking over his tongue, while his mouth suctioned, pulling her arousal into near frenzy.

She broke the kiss and rested her forehead against his. "You won't make me wait, will you?"

"Do you know any speed but fast?"

With a choked laugh, she shook her head. "It's your own damn fault."

Chuckling, he laid her on the blanket. Then resting on one elbow beside her, he slid one thigh sliding over both of hers. His hand dove beneath her blouse, sliding over her ribs. Fingers tucked beneath her bra to caress her breast, pinching the tip and pulling. She felt the tug all the way to her pussy.

"Take them off," she rasped. "My clothes. Too many."

His mouth glided over her cheek, and he nuzzled into her hair. "Do you want to move inside the house?"

"Who's gonna see? The cats?"

The sound he made, a near perfect, animalistic growl, should have alarmed her, but the tension in his shoulders, and the thickness of his sex rubbing against her hip, sent her own arousal soaring. "Now," she said. "Fuck me right here."

Mason pushed up quickly beside her. She sat and thrust up her arms for him to tug off her shirt. Then she reached behind her for the snap of her bra, watching as his fingers flew down the row of buttons on his own shirt. He tossed it to the side, rucked up his white tee, then reached for his belt.

"Not fast enough," she breathed, eyeing his chest. She pulled off her shoes, opened her pants and wriggled on the hard wood, shoving them off her hips.

His pants were already shed, and he grabbed the ends of hers and ripped them the rest of the way off.

Panting hard, her belly tight, her pussy wet and pulsing, she opened her legs and reached for him.

He knelt between her legs, slipped his hands beneath her buttocks and tilted her to receive his first, forceful thrust.

They both groaned as he entered her. "Fuck, that's good." "Move, just move."

Their voices blended. Soft, short murmurs. More praise than instruction. Already, they knew what the other liked.