Welcome to Mid Week Tease, where myself and other author friends post a little something for you, the readers, from some of our published works, up-and-coming releases, and WIPs (Works in Progress).
Good news. The audio production for Claimed by the Bad Boy has been completed, so that means the audiobook should be hitting retail shelves in a couple of weeks! The fantastic John Thrust is narrating.
To celebrate the upcoming audio release, I thought I'd share an exclusive excerpt from the book. I hope you enjoy.
Strobe lights and differing colored lasers were snapping across the semi-darkened space inside the old warehouse when Ryker, his brother, along with Randy and Zach, strode into the crazed rave. The techno music was so loud and blaring, he couldn’t even hear himself think. People were everywhere, and the raised platform someone had created as the dance area had them packed in like sardines, jumping, bumping, grinding, and just going nutso.
Randy elbowed him, then gave the two-finger air swirl, indicating he was going to go circulate. And Zach? He glanced past Declan. Apparently, they’d lost Zach to the chaos seconds after entering.
Some bleached-blonde wearing an almost nonexistent miniskirt, and a tied off, low-cut shirt who was swathed in neon-green glow sticks, sauntered in Ryker and Declan’s direction. She pulled one glow-in-the-dark necklace off and reached up on her tiptoes to put it over his head, then did the same to Deck before crooking her fingers at them as if she had a secret to tell.
“I’ve always wanted to be bookended by twins,” she hollered between their two bent heads, but with the volume of the music, whistles, and shouting people, her suggestion—more than a comment—came out muted.
Ryker smirked over at Declan, who shrugged. It wasn’t the first time they’d been propositioned by some curvy babe, and he figured it wouldn’t be the last.
“Sugar,” said Declan. “You couldn’t handle both of us. One of us is more than a handful.”
She batted her long lashes and hit him with a coy grin. “I like a handful.” Deck winked at her. She took hold of his T-shirt and led him into the swirl of partiers.
Shaking his head, Ryker started to navigate the crowds, and that’s when he saw her.
“Damn it.” She came even after he told her not to; nonetheless, that’s not what thoroughly ticked him off. What had him seething with anger and his hands fisting at his sides as he took in the threesome? Molly being bookended.
One dark-haired guy ground his crotch into Molly’s stomach, and the sandy-blond dude pressed himself into her ass. They swayed back and forth, their hands all over her, but beside the obvious, something wasn’t right. She glistened with sweat, her hair stuck to her neck and cheeks, and she appeared to be drunk off her ass. The thing was, Molly didn’t drink. Ever.
What the hell?
If the two dudes weren’t pressed up against her, Molly looked as though she’d be on her butt and not on her feet. Grumbling obscenities under his breath, Ryker made his way over to the trio and tugged the dark-haired guy back by the shoulder.
He thought she said, “Hey” in a slur, but he was too busy shoving the other guy away and then catching her. She was going down—falling timber. “There you are.” She reached up and patted his cheek with limp fingers.
“Fucking shit, dude!” one of the duo yelled.
Ryker scooped Molly up in his arms, her shoulder against his chest—the back of her knees going over one of his forearms.
She giggled and arched, throwing her arms back over her head. “I’m flying.”
It took him a second to gain control of her wiggle, and gain his own center of balance.
“What’s wrong with you?” he asked, clutching on to her tighter as he carried her out of the warehouse.
“Whee….” she uttered as though a kid taking a ride on a merry-go-round.
“What in the heck was that?”
She fell into a bout of the giggles.
Once they were outside, and the noise died from blaring to semi-loud, he took a breath, heading in the direction of where he’d parked his Jeep. The breeze kicked up, lifting the too-short skirt she had on, showing off her pale, supple thighs.
At last, Ryker arrived at his Jeep—parked in the north forty in the warehouse lot—and asked, “Are you drunk?”
She swung the legs hanging over his forearm. His brow furrowed.
“Can you stand if I put you down?”
She did a tinkling laugh. “Of course, silly-willy.”
He placed her on her feet and watched Molly sway, so he boxed her in—her back resting against the passenger door of his vehicle, his big body in front of hers, hands resting on either side of her shoulders.
The why of it escaped him, but she hiked up her tiny plaid skirt.
“I can see your panties,” he said from between his teeth.
“Oh….” Instead of smoothing down the skirt, she tugged the material higher. Something sparkled and hot pink winked up at him from the vicinity of her crotch. “Do you like them?”
He honed in. The sparkles were words.
All You Can Eat.
Hell yes, he did.
“No,” he lied. “Pull your skirt down, Molls.”
Her brow crinkled, although she complied.
Ryker stared into her sweat-glistening face, then leaned in and sniffed. She didn’t smell as though she’d been drinking; she smelled of clean sweat and her perfume, vanilla-sweet, though her pupils were large and dilated.
“Did you take something tonight, Molls?”
The muscle in his jaw worked. “Did you take something, like pills? You’re not acting right.”
She swiped damp hair from her face with a wobble. Ryker latched onto her arm. “No pills.”
“Did you eat something or drink something while you were inside the warehouse?”
“Who gave you the drink?”
“Did one of those guys you were with give you the drink?”
She nodded and swayed forward, placing her forehead to his chest. “You smell good. Can I lick you?”
Damn it. The thought of her tongue on him made his dick stir.
“Molly,” he snapped.
She giggled as she fondled his stomach with her fingertips, working his shirt up until she touched his navel—flesh on flesh.
Ryker sucked in a breath when she trailed her nails up toward his chest. She swiped her thumb over his left nipple. Splayed her fingers over his pectoral. God. Why was something as simple as her touching his pec driving him into a lust frenzy?
“There he is. That’s the asshole.”
He closed his eyes. Trouble had come a-knocking.
Ryker tugged her hand from beneath his shirt, lifted Molly’s chin, and pressed her back against his Jeep with his other hand. “Don’t you dare move from this spot. Understand?”
“Yep,” she said, far too unconcerned and cheery, then saluted him.
Ryker turned around to see not only the dark-haired shithead who’d been grinding his crotch into Molly’s stomach, but the blond dickwad who’d been trying to back-door her with their clothes on. Then there were two other dudes who appeared as though they were itching for a fight if their shifting from foot-to-foot dance was to be any indication.
So, it was like that was it? Four on one. Well, fuck it.
“What did you give her?” he asked, voice hard.
The blond answered with a sideways smirk. “Something to make her real happy, man.”
“If I were you,” said the prick with dark hair. “I’d be less concerned with the bitch, and more concerned about what we’re going to do to you, fucker.”
Ryker set his sights on Darkie. He’d be the first one of the four to bite the dirt tonight.
“Do you want to do this?” he asked the little turd, knowing the answer.
“Oh, yeah. We do.”
“All right.” Ryker took three steps forward, then stopped, keeping his stance deceptively casual. “Bring it, then.”
No sooner had the words been spoken, than it was on. The prick came at him, fist flying. Ryker blocked and punched him in the midsection, hearing his expulsion of air before giving the guy an uppercut that took him down. Molly screamed. He didn’t have time to see why because the other three, rushed him. Ryker shoved one, causing the dude to stumble and hit the pavement, then punched the blond in the face, filleting open his eyelid, seeing the blood fly before the third ass-wipe hit him with a rib shot that caused him to grimace.
Prick one was out for the count. Prick two was getting up. The bleeding blond was backing away. The fourth one was a fighter, so he and Ryker were at war, exchanging blows.
Molly screeched, jumping into the fray—a wild cat scratching, trying to smack at the guy he was fighting with upside the head—and took an elbow. She hunched over and tossed her cookies before wilting.
“Molly!” Ryker yelled, but the momentary distraction cost him. He took a punch to the jaw and a knee to the midsection. Then prick two yanked Molly up. She flailed, but he flung her against the Jeep like a rag doll. Breathing hard, Ryker straightened, rage and adrenaline overtaking him. “I’m going to kill you for touching her!”
“You’ve got to get through me first,” said the one who could punch.
He went blow for blow with the guy, did a leg sweep, and took the dude down, kicking his ribs until they cracked, leaving him sprawled on the pavement to clutch at himself and moan, then went for the bastard who had Molly’s shirt tore open.
Seeing her manhandled, the tears streaming down her face, her lacy bra exposed, sent him over the edge.
He tore the shithead off her and flung him. Hard. And that’s when Declan came swooping in from nowhere, knocking the butt-munch out with one blow.
“What in the hell?” Deck glanced at the guys scattered about on the ground and the blond bastard who was running off, before he looked at Molly. “Jesus.”
“I’ve got her,” Ryker said, taking the few steps required to reach her, and pulled Molly into his arms, absorbing her shakes. “Are you okay?”
She didn’t answer him, only sobbed. Ryker was pissed, hurting, concerned, and hell, scared for her. What if he hadn’t come tonight? The thought of her being drugged and gang-raped by those douchebags ratcheted up his anger once more.
He took a breath and grimaced at the protest of his own ribs.
“Molls?” He worked at calming his voice. “Answer me.”
“Get in the Jeep,” Declan said. “We’ll take her to the ER.”
“No,” Molly managed. “No hospital.”
“Do you want to go to our place then?” Deck asked. “I don’t think you should go back to your dorm in your condition.”
She sniffed. “Okay.”
“What about Randy and Zach?” Ryker asked.
“I’ll come back for them.” Deck paused and eyed him. “Are you okay, bro?”
“I may have a cracked rib.” He rubbed Molly’s back in a circle with his palm. “But I’ll live.”
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