Ready for some more MC action?

Are you guys almost ready for “Needing Me, Wanting You” (Triple M MC #3)?

How about a “Losing Me, Finding You” throwback?

LOSING ME, FINDING YOU (Triple M MC #1)

by C.M. Stunich

“Take off your pants,” he says simply and that’s it. I turn around and stare at him, noticing that his eyes are like fire, waiting to wash over me and burn me to ash.

“What?” Austin grins and pulls out a cigarette, sticking it between his lips and taking off his vest. He tosses it onto the gravel by the side of the road like we’re not out in the middle of the country, like we’re right back in that hotel room together with all the privacy in the world.

“Take ‘em off. This is your next lesson. If you don’t wear a skirt, be prepared to take off your pants. Come on, sugar, let’s get to it. We’ve gotta hurry before somebody drives by and sees us.”

“You’re serious?” I ask him, getting chills and a gut wrenching belly ache. Oh God, yes. I can’t believe I waited twenty-one years for this feeling. It’s incredible.

“As a heart attack,” Austin says, taking a drag on his cigarette and tossing it to the ground, so he can smash it under his boot. I nibble my lip for a moment and then start to unbutton my jeans. Austin’s eyes follow the motion and narrow when I pause with the zipper halfway down.

“Take off your shirt,” I command him. I want to see what’s under there. Three times we’ve had sex and not once have I gotten to see his chest and belly. He grins at me and obliges, tearing the black fabric off and tossing it down alongside his vest.

Austin is … Well, God, Austin is ripped. He’s tight and muscular and I can see every muscle in his belly as clear as day. His skin stretches hot and slick over the firmness of his chest and stomach, dipping into his pants with a sprinkle of sandy hair. Above his pecs, he’s got another skull tattoo surrounded by roses and on either side, a gun pointing inwards. Sweat glides across the colorful piece of art and gets caught between his muscles, sliding down and soaking into the waistband of his jeans.

I practically tear my boots and pants off in my frenzy to touch him. I can’t wait.

“Panties,” he commands me, and I pause. Being pants-less in the middle of the road is one thing, but being pantie-less is quite another altogether.

“Austin … ” He grins at me and reaches down, unzipping his own pants. My gaze follows his hands involuntarily, mesmerizing me.

“Better hurry before somebody comes along and we get interrupted.”