BREAK AND ENTER BY CHRISTINA J. LOREN
When a lone burglar breaks into James’ home demanding everything, temperatures soar between both men.
James didn’t think the nights could get any hotter in Phoenix, but he was wrong. When a lone burglar breaks into his home demanding everything, temperatures soar.
Mark’s a thief who believes he knows exactly what he’s after, until one smoking hot homeowner makes him an offer he can’t refuse: perfect submission. This is one break and enter neither man will ever forget.
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“Shit.” James’s heart rate kicked into double time, and he jerked his head in the direction of the intruder. Before he could move, a masked figure in black raised his arm. In the glint of the moonlight, James realized with sickening clarity that a silver gun was aimed straight for his head.
“Don’t move and everything will be over soon.”
“I don’t plan on moving with that thing pointed at me.” James curled both hands into fists. What a fine damn time to get robbed when the only thing he had for a weapon were the boxer shorts covering his ass.
“Where’s your wallet? ”
“On the nightstand,” James said, doing his best to keep the adrenalin shakes out of his voice. “Over here.” He indicated the table beside his bed with a rock of his head.
“This is how we’re going to do it,” the robber began. “Reach over, real nice and slow, take hold of your wallet, and place it at the end of the bed. Any funny business and I will put a bullet between your eyes.”
“All right, no need to get nasty.”
James lifted his left hand, reached over, and grabbed his wallet. Slowly, he sat up, stretched to the end of the bed, and dropped the wallet. At his new proximity to the robber, James risked a better look at the man. The thief’s mask completely covered his face and head. The only openings were the holes left for his mouth and eyes. Even with his face covered, James couldn’t miss the way the guy devoured his half-naked body with his gaze. The intensity of it made him tremble, but it wasn’t fear giving him the shakes. Instead of lowering back to the mattress, James continued on and rose to his knees, encouraged by the stranger’s blatant stare. At the foot of the bed, James swallowed hard and took a chance. One he hoped might fulfill his most wicked hidden desire.
“I have an alternative,” James murmured.
Pic by Samantha Thomas *Thank you!*
“Dammit, Tony, this is not funny!”
The forest waited, unnaturally quiet. Dan took a step deeper into the trees and his scalp prickled. Fear shivered through him. He was going to fucking kill Tony for this.
He jumped as a shadow moved in the trees. “Tony?”
Heart thumping, he rounded a Cedar and saw Tony crumpled on the ground. Oh shit. He knelt and gathered the man in his arms. His skin felt like ice. “Honey?”
Dan lifted his head. A dark presence stood at his back, malevolent, treacherous. He whimpered at the foul breath on his neck. “What…”
A hand, black as midnight and despair, appeared. A light shown through clasped fingers. The thing’s whisper was sharp as a blade. “His life. Trade?”
He nodded, and quicksilver slid from the dark hand into Tony’s breast. Then arms went around him, tight as a vice, and hauled him to his feet.
He looked back. Tony stared at them, terror on his face.
“Wait—” Dan began, but the black thing clutched his cock through his jeans. Pleasure exploded in his body, boiled along his nerves. Too much! His orgasm built on a wave of exquisite pain and ecstasy, searing his blood. He opened his mouth to scream but lush lips clamped on his, over ripe, rotten, stealing his breath. Then darkness took him for its own.
Dianne Hartsock: http://diannehartsock.wordpress.com/
Meet the Character’ Spotlight
Author: Dianne Hartsock
Title of Book:
Freaky Flashes: The Birthday, Andrew Calls the Dead, In the Shadows
Characters Cyros, Steve and Nick
Is this the hero/heroine/villain/secondary character? These are my villians
Please give a warm welcome to Cyrus, Andrew and Nick from Freaky Flashes by Dianne Hartsock today as we sit down and see what makes them tick.
Q: So tell us about yourself. What got you in the crosshairs for your author?
Cyrus: She might have seen me at one of the dance clubs. *smooths shirt over chest* I’m pretty hard to miss.
Andrew: I think she’s friends with that back-stabbing Steve.
Nick: I’ve been in all the newspapers lately.
Q: What was it that drew you to your mate?
Cyrus: *tender smile* Kyle was a jewel in the darkness.
Andrew: Casey’s blue eyes, adorable mouth, sexy as hell body, but it’s his dry humor I love the most.
Nick: *licks lips* Bobbie’s delicious, but so are so many others…
Q: A little naughty fun, where was the wildest place you seduced your partner(s)?
Cyrus: In the back alley behind the dance club. He was so precious I had to take him home.
Andrew: In a secluded booth at The Tea Room off 5th Street. We might have gotten a little loud.
Nick: Oh, I tickled Bobbie’s fancy behind the fountain in Upper City Park
Q: Boxers, briefs or Commando on a man?
Nick: I never notice what they’re wearing.
Q: If your partner wants to seduce you, what’s one sure fire trick he/she can play?
Cyrus: Tears in Kyle’s eyes break through my defenses every time.
Andrew: Casey has this certain grin that really gets me going.
Nick: Bobbie has a certain cologne he uses.
Q: What is the one place on your partner’s body that you know will drive them wild-in and out of bed?
Cyrus: A kiss on Kyle’s tender neck.
Andrew: If I rub the small of Casey’s back.
Nick: It’s earlobes, on Bobbie.
Q: What was one of the most embarrassing things your author did to you in Freaky Flashes?
Cyrus: Had me caught with my pants down, as it were.
Andrew: Made me talk to that ass Steve.
Nick: Turn the tables on me! If I ever catch up with her…
Q: Anything else you would like to add?
Cyrus: *eyes Andrew* You know, you’re kind of cute.
Nick: *moistens his lips* He is, isn’t he. What do you say me and you take him outside…
Thank you for joining us on ‘Meet the Character’ day here at Breathless Press Blog.
Andrew Calls the Dead:
Love is powerful, but is it strong enough to raise the dead?
Every birthday Cyrus visits the dance clubs with a surprise for the young men. This year, the tables are turned.
In the Shadows:
He waits in the shadows; silent, hungry. Careful! He might be watching you.
Dianne Hartsock: http://diannehartsock.wordpress.com/
For a great many men, the concept of true love—of soul mates—is a thing of fiction. Of tawdry romance novels and fantasies. For me, the thing of fantasy has always been lust. One cannot fancy a man—cannot want to have intimate knowledge of a man—unless one knows his heart. Knows his likes and dislikes, his thoughts on a whole gamut of things.
Imagine my perplexity then, when I met him. When I gazed upon that visage which should not make any man tremble. He was a thing of exotic beauty—the symbols on his skin, the fierce gleam of his dark eyes, the invisible cloak of danger and darkness and evil resonating around him. Any man’s heart should speed with fear in his presence. No man’s heart should speed with lust, yet mine…
Imagine my considerable ill ease when I realized I cared not for his likes and dislikes, nor his thoughts on a whole gamut of things.
Imagine my mortification as I realized all I wished was to fall in submission before him, service his cock—which I was certain would be most impressive—and bid him thanks for his time.
Imagine my terror when he revealed his true nature to me—not a man, but a demon. A thing of hell, spawned from the Devil himself. A thing of considerable evil.
Imagine my thrill when he gently pushed me to my knees, opened the fly of his breeches, and beckoned me to reach inside.
Imagine the surge of heat and need and want that flooded me at the first brush of my flesh against his.
Imagine the slick slide of his unholy cock, the sealing of my lips around it that likewise sealed my fate as His.
(Image credit: Image credit: <a href=’http://www.123rf.com/photo_8348149_black-magician-in-the-leather-raincoat-magic-gate-on-the-background.html‘>diter / 123RF Stock Photo</a>)
Jason held his cheroot to the side and blew a thin stream of blue smoke into the garden. The whiny stringed instruments from the ball couldn’t hide the crunch of feet on the path.
“What are you doing out here?” He demanded hoarsely. Trenton would put his huskiness down to the smoke, maybe the bastard would know it was emotion.
“I wasn’t flirting with her.”
“I know the language of the fan, My Lord. She wanted you to meet her in the gardens.”
“I’m only interested in meeting you.” Trenton D’Arcy swung Jason around by the arm. Jase allowed the cheroot to slip from his fingers and stamped it out. His hands landed on Trent’s shoulders as the hope of the match making mamas took his mouth in a torrid kiss that left them breathless.
Quickly, he recovered his resentment and pushed Trent away, his prick a hard ache inside his white satin evening breeches. “Damn you! Why do you do this?”
“Because I love you.”
He winced at the bald statement. “You should love some dainty demoiselle who can provide you with children and social grace. I can give you nothing.”
“You give what I most need, Jason.”
copyright © 2012 Havan Fellows
“So, what are you in the mood for? Rough and frantic or slow and easy? You want chills to go up and down your spine? I can do that, you know…I’ve got the power in my hands.”
“Oh do you now? What if I don’t like what your hands are offering?”
“Hey, I’m versatile. I like all kinds.” He straddled my legs and thrust into my stomach. “Come on baby, just tell me and I’ll make it happen.”
“Whoa now, big boy. First off that’s a tad too high, my belly button loves your tongue but that thing ramming into it might hurt.”
“Is that what you want tonight? A little pain with your pleasure? A little moaning with your groaning?”
I couldn’t contain my snort. “And that’s why I fell legs over head for you…your lines are astounding. Now are we gonna do this or not?”
“All you have to do is lead me baby. Come on, curl up those long agile fingers of yours and point me in the right direction.” He licked up my neck.
“Okay, that one.”
My finger rested on the DVD he held with his right hand.
“Really? Robin Hood Men In Tights again?”
If I Said I Loved You
“I’m going unless you can give me a damn good reason to stay.”
Sylvan sat in the breakfast buttering his toast with manic attention. Without looking at me, he laid down his knife and reached for the jar of peach and whiskey preserves. “I said I love you. What more do you want?”
If the dryer hadn’t stopped when I opened the door to rifle through the fresh laundry, I wouldn’t have heard him.
“You love me?” I threw faded jeans in the bag. “You love everything. This morning you’ve told me you love the toast, the jam, the song on the radio and our neighbor.”
He shifted and his blue eyes narrowed as his gaze followed me. “I don’t get it.”
“Where do I rank? You can’t love everything and expect it to mean a damn thing to me when you say it to me.”
His lips tightened eloquently. “It’s not the same. Loving toast and loving you are different.”
“I think you love having someone make the fucking toast. I think you love having the radio set to your favorite station, having the jam you like appear by magic, and you love that Ethel thinks you’re fucking adorable.”
“Wait a minute!”
“I made the toast, bought the jelly, opened the door and lent Ethel coffee.” I zipped the bag on my frustrations. “I’m going.”
“I’ll be alone.”
“That’s the point.” Alone, and doing things for himself.
“I’ll miss you.”
“You’ll miss the things I do for you.”