[THIS STORY WILL BE TAKEN DOWN ON SEPTEMBER 30, 2024]
This is a collection of bonus scenes I've written over the years. Some are part of later books in the series. Some short stories are simply 'What If' scenarios. Some moments are scenes that happe...
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I pushed up and shimmied away from him, my skin sliding over silk, until my back met the headboard—cool wood making me cry out a gasp. He was on me in a blur. His knees kicked mine wide, thighs scooping beneath my ass until I was sitting on his lap, his cock pressing right there. Just the feel of him, that hardness notched exactly where I wanted it.
And I was lost.
Holy .... Holy hells-gate ...
He braced his hands against the tall headboard, tattooed forearms caging me in. He leaned close and I sucked in a sharp breath, reminding myself to take another, looking into those dark black eyes staring back at me, the want making the golden flecks glitter.
"The Lyon triplets? How cliché," I said. I was still bitter about the Lyons, but the feel of him right between my legs stole a little of my bite.
"Cliché, huh?" he replied, taunting me.
I cocked an eyebrow, dropped my voice low, and mimicked him. "I don't just break hearts sweetheart. I break headboards." I pursed my lips to the side and rolled my eyes at him.
His rich chuckle reverberated through my bones and enticed me to join him in laughter. Instead I chewed my bottom lip to hide the smile.
His hands wrapped around the edge of the headboard and shook it. "Seems sturdy enough," and he winked. "But they do tend to explode into matchsticks, when I really,"—he ground his hard, really hard cock, into me—"get going."
And then he eased us both upwards, rising on his knees, his pelvis thrusting up to bodily slide me up and down the headboard, the ends of my hair swaying and lifting with every downward glide. Cool wood warmed with the friction against my skin, and all the while his hard hot length throbbed against my core. "Good thing," I said a little breathlessly and a little shamelessly pushing back against him. "That's not my kink," I said, trying to own the ridiculousness coming out of my mouth. I'd read that line somewhere in one of my stories stored on my Kindle.
His smile got wider, a little wolfish, matching the hunger gleaming in his eyes. "Not your kink, huh? Just what is?" He wagged his thick eyebrows and drawled, "What do you say to some daddy-kink, baby girl?"
At that I couldn't stop the barking laugh from escaping.
His grin was delightful. "Or maybe I should flip you over my knee and give you an old-fashioned spanking with the flat of my palm?" His gaze trailed down my chest and stomach to my panties, my thighs spread obscenely wide, legs wrapped around his hips. "Better yet, how about I spank that pussy of yours for all the sass your smart-ass-mouth flings back at me? And before I could retort that maybe I'd spank his balls if he ever dared try that on me, he started to move, rocking into me, driving me up and down the headboard again and again and again.
Oh my gods...
I barely stifled the moan as my body threatened wickedly to melt against his. He angled his head so his mouth was an inch from mine as he huskily whispered, "Or maybe you'd prefer some Guy Candy. This particular Guy Candy, and only this flavor." He cocked a brow, stilling. "And baby girl, feel free to suck on me all night long."
