Welcome to Mid Week Tease. To those of you who are new to Mid Week Tease, here's a little bit about MWT. Thanks to the lovely and talented Sandra Bunino, who created this weekly fun, myself and other author friends post a little something for you, the readers, from some of our published works, up-and-coming releases, and WIP (Works in Progress).
I don't know about you guys, but I'm ready to get this new year started!
I shared this first look at bad, bad boy Ryker Cage with my FB group, and thought I'd share the bad boy love with you guys, too. Be warned. This is an adult excerpt, so it might get a little bit hot in here :)
Here's an unedited, first draft from one of my current WIPs, Claimed by the Bad Boy (Bad Boy Fever, 2)
“Fuck,” Ryker said in a gruff grumble, staring down at the smoking-hot red-headed bartender on her knees, polishing his dick with her tongue stud, her shorts unzipped, her right hand tucked inside, rubbing herself. Let’s just say, when he ordered a deep throat, this wasn’t what he had in mind.
“You’re…so…big.” She managed the words between long licks. “Just look at you. How rock hard you are.”
To any other guy, having some curvaceous lovely tell them in an impressed voice how thick, and long, and hard they were would be a real ego booster, right? A total beat your chest moment ‘cause she thinks you’re hung like a horse. Well, Ryker Cage didn’t give a shit. He knew he was a big guy, so hearing what she probably thought he wanted, wasn’t a turn on. What was? The way Red nibbled down his length and fondled his balls.
He sucked in a breath between his teeth. The little vixen teabagged him. “Sweet Christ.” His head went back when she trailed her tongue up his sack, between his testicles, continued up his shaft, swirled the metal piercing of hers across the winking slit of his cock before wrapping those lips around the head—sucking him hard. “Yeah. There you go.”
“Do you like that?” she asked, as if she didn’t know.
The bar-babe picked up the pace, using her left hand around the base of him, alternating between jacking and sucking.
“Keep it up, and I’ll come, baby,” he said.
Don’t be fooled by the endearment, because the use of baby wasn’t one. In truth, Ryker had no idea what she said her name was. Why? Easy. He’d been too busy watching her round ass jiggle in those skin-tight daisy dukes when he escorted her to the back door of the Razor Club for a smoke, however when she rubbed up against him—supple breasts-to-muscled chest—whispering things like, “Suck” and “You” and “Down the back of my throat” into his ear, they’d taken a quick detour.
Kia, Kelli, Kiva? Something with a K. Does it even matter?
He might not be what one would consider sensitive when it came to the opposite sex. In no way could he be thought of as politically correct. And, he didn’t have a clue about connecting with his softer side, or that find-your-inner-femininity bullshit his free-spirited aunt Dali spouted to him and his twin brother every chance she got, but he did know well enough not to call the woman who was blowing him by any other name than her own.
When the bombshell scraped her teeth up his shaft, he groaned low in his throat, muscles flexing, fingers splaying wide on the two, steel, sidewalls of the stall—calves hitting the front of the toilet. Yep. Good thing he went with baby, especially while teeth, not to mention the part of his body he valued the most, were intimately involved.
“Mmm…” she mumbled, sending a sweet vibration down the length of him.
The overhead light bounced off the top of her head, setting a sunset blaze as she bobbed up and down on his cock. She was eager. Focused. Determined to have him bust a nut. He groaned at the sight. She reminded him of a porn star by the sounds she made. And the suctioned pull of her mouth on him with the twist at the tip, along with the hand-tug at the root—fantastic. But when she changed things up and twirled her tongue around the under-edge of his flared head, good God, the combination was shiver inducing. And, Ryker, who’d been the happy recipient of a lot of differing techniques in his thirty-one years, knew she hadn’t learned to do that without plenty of practice.
Oh, yeah. She did the combo thing again. Red had him there. Ready to….
“I’m coming,” he warned.
She popped her plump lips from his throbbing dick. “Uh huh,” she uttered in a breathy voice. A second later, he exploded, warm jiz covering her manicured fingers and silky-smooth palm, while she shook—her other hand still shoved down the front of her shorts and barely moving—clearly climaxing.
Ryker closed his eyes for a moment to gather his thoughts.
“Good?” she asked.
His eyelids lifted and he glanced down. “Great, baby.”
With the scent of sex wafting around them, Red slipped her fingers free of her shorts, reached for the toilet paper, and thoroughly wiped all of her cum covered appendages. “I get off in a couple of hours.” She smiled up at him—a dimple creasing the right side of her cheek.
Ignoring the comment, Ryker righted himself and tucked his softening cock back into his pants in an efficient manner. Here was the part he hated the most. He hadn’t thought Red would be a clinger. He figured she’d know the rules of a random hook-up. But, he also knew what her last statement was leading to. She’d want more, when he didn’t.
Ryker sighed. In his experience, most women thought sex, any type, to be more than it really was. They were good at confusing lust with love. They were good at falling in love. Most, wanted to date. They wanted to make love in a bed and cuddle. To talk. To hear, I love you. They required serious relationships. Commitments. And it all started after the first time they shared a mutual orgasm with someone. After the shared moment of pleasure, they’d want a second. A third.
Red stood up, tossed the TP in the toilet, zipped her shorts, turned, unlocked the slider on the stall door, and stepped out. Luckily, they were the only two in the restroom. This realization came while following behind her.
“Want to wait for me?” she asked. “We can go back to my place when I clock out.”
They both cleaned up at the sinks. No need to wait for her. He wouldn’t be going back to her place. He was done. He’d come. What else was there other than expectations he’d never live up to. Hell. He even owned the I-don’t-go-back-for-seconds T-shirt. Besides, with the exception of one woman, only one, he’d long been a onetime-go-around type of guy. No matter how stunning the woman. No matter how mind-blowing the sexual event. And getting sucked off in the restroom of this club was indeed an event.
“Can’t,” he said, adding soap from the dispenser to his palm. “Early morning.”
“Hmm,” she mumbled while washing her hands.
Jesus. He hoped she wasn’t going to make a scene. He hated those pouty, I-can’t-believe-I-blew-you, you bastard scenes. But when her green-eyed gaze met his sea-blue one in the mirror, she appeared fine. No frown. No pursed lips. No tears threatening to overflow.
Softly she asked, “Do you want my digits?”
Ryker rinsed and dried his hands. He might be an epic asshole at times, nonetheless taking her number, acting as though he would call, wasn’t something he’d do.
“I think we both know I won’t be calling,” he said, being as upfront as he could without sounding too douchebaggery he hoped.
She shrugged. “I thought I’d at least give it a shot.” With nothing more, Red sauntered to the restroom door.
He had to admit, the woman had one, spectacular backside and killer, long shapely legs.
Glancing over her shoulder at him she said, “Thanks for taking a ciggy break with me.”
“Sure thing, but I should be the one thanking you,” he replied. She grinned. “So, thank you.” No reason not to be polite. After all, Red did all the work, and even got herself off in the doing.
“I guess I’ll see you around the club, Ryker.”
“Yeah,” he said, and watched her go.
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