Welcome to Mid Week Tease. 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).
Hi, all. I've been out of commission for a few weeks and haven't been part of the tease. I've missed everyone, but I'm back and ready to rock!
This week I'm going to tease you with a little something from my upcoming release with Decadent Publishing. This comes from Claimed by the Bad Boy (Book two in the Bad Boy Fever series).
Something always brings him back to her….
Ryker Cage is a rough guy, with very particular tastes when it comes to sex. He doesn’t have a clue about connecting with his softer side in the bedroom, or that find-your-inner-femininity bullshit, and he fears nothing, except for one thing—his feelings for Molly Monroe.
The bad boy who lived next door claimed Molly’s heart long ago. Crazy, or not, she loves him. Always has. No matter what he does to push her away, nor how far he runs, Ryker is the one man she’ll never stop loving.
When Ryker finally finds his way back home, will he claim what’s always been his? Or, will he forever be destined for heartache when someone threatens to take everything he never thought he wanted, away from him?
Laughter and chatter mixed into the sounds of music, a splash war taking place in the pool, and the intermittent pop, pop, crack of distant fireworks going off around the neighborhood far too early. Heaving a sigh, Ryker flopped an oversized beach towel over his bare shoulder.
Once, he would have been the life of the party with his jokes, being the good host. In general, he’d mingle until he found someone of the female persuasion to distract him and his dick for a while. But tonight, he just wasn’t in the party mode. Hell, he didn’t even know why he was in his swimming trunks since he didn’t want to join in the foolishness going on in the pool.
“Hey, boss,” Marty Sheenan, one of his programmers greeted, patting his stomach. “Those were some fantastic ribs.”
“Yeah. Declan is good with that grill of his.”
“He sure the hell is.” A second passed, Marty rocking back on his heels. “Listen. I’m glad you’re home.”
“Will we see you in the offices on Tuesday?”
“I suppose so, Marty.”
“The idea of pulling nine to fives isn’t your thing, is it?”
“Naw, but I’ll survive.”
Marty chortled. “Good to hear.” There was an awkward silence for a moment. Ryker had never been the type of boss who was chatty. “Well, I see my wife over there by the pool, holding a beer with my name on it.” He grinned. “I’ll talk with you later.”
“Sure. Go enjoy.”
Ryker rubbed his fingers across his stubbled jaw. He should grab a beer. Mingle. Do something other than stand there, except he wasn’t into doing anything, not even the tanned blonde in the white string bikini who was sashaying toward him, large breasts a-bouncing.
“Great party,” she said in her singsong voice. “You and your brother always throw the best bashes on the block.”
“Thanks. I’m glad you’re having a good time.”
She smiled up at him, oozing seduction. “Oh, I am. But….” Bunny, that was her ridiculous name, traced the tip of a manicured nail along his forearm. “I could always have a better one.” Her tongue darted over her lips. “What do you say?” She cocked a hip—breasts brushing against him. “Want to give this a go, Ryker?”
Habit, more than any other reason, had him giving his neighbor the once over, looking at what she offered. Smooth, glistening skin. Toned, tight stomach. Full lips. High cheekbones. Cat shaped eyes glittering in the color of honey. While she was beautiful, and wanted to call him cowboy, saddle up, and ride him for the night—his dick didn’t bother a response.
Ryker found himself saying, “If you’ll excuse me.” As he plucked her hand from his arm and turned away.
“Hey,” she said, sounding miffed. “Where you going?”
Walking toward the house he gave her his response. “Out.”
“You just passed up the best lay of your life.”
He chuckled a humorless sound under his breath, walked through the open patio doors, went to his bedroom, threw the towel on the foot of his bed, tugged on a T-shirt, grabbed his wallet and his car keys from the nightstand, and headed for the garage. He’d take a drive. Clear his head. And, with any luck, he’d be wearing a better mood when he came back home instead of the irritated one he was sporting.
Listening to a song by Nine Inch Nails, Ryker sped down the highway in his sports car, windows open, feeling the warm, evening air whip inside and swirl across him, disrupting his shirt in rippled waves.
“Feel the hollowness inside of your heart… And it's all right where it belongs.”
As though waking from a music induced trance, Ryker realized he’d exited the highway a while ago, and was driving down Bannock street. Slower than need be, he drove through the neighborhood, toward the blue painted Victorian near the corner, and told himself he’d just do a drive by.
“Fuck me,” he grumbled.
There she was. Molly Monroe. The innocent fresh-faced girl next door he’d never gotten out of his system. Only, she’d way passed the girl stage, and it had been years since she lived next door to him.
Unable to look away and keep driving, which he knew he should, he parked across the street, one house down from hers, and took her in—a man starved. He hadn’t seen her since things went spiraling out of control last year, and ended in the worst way.
God. He scrubbed his palm down his face. She looked good. Too good in her flouncy little coral colored sundress, the hem fluttering around her supple, pale white thighs as she bounced down the steps of her porch with all of her silky strawberry blonde hair loose—the ends curling temptingly around her breasts. Perfect breasts he once touched. Licked. Nibbled. Sucked.
His dick stirred now. Heck. Stirred was too tame a word. Mini-Me went spike hard.
Adjusting his shaft, he kept his gaze on her. Is she smiling? Yes. Those plump rosy-pink lips he’d long imagined slipping over the head of his cock because he demanded of her to break her submissive position at his feet, and lift her chin up to take him into her mouth as he stroked her soft cheek, were without doubt turned up in an alluring smile.
His gaze shot to the tall male-model type who sauntered up the sidewalk, going to meet her. The pretty-boy wrapped his arm around Molly’s waist, leaned in and whispered something into her ear, then, together, they walked toward the black BMW parked in her driveway.
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