Sex, Heat and Hunger: Part 1
Find out what people are saying about James and Emma's love story
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Reviews
"This is the first installment in this series as well as the first book I have read from this author. Their rapport, sexual chemistry, and utterly open and frank discussions and questions to each other had me reacting by either laughing out loud or reduced me to cringing, especially when Emma explained her relationship history. We watch and wait while they slowly realize that they cannot do without the other, but how their present lives are so complicated when it comes to incorporating their pasts into into it. Great read and sexy couple!"- SBee Reviews
"Emma is meeting her best friend at the bar but she is very late however when she gets hold of her girlfriend’s husband it turns out she has food poisoning. James is having a drink as well with the intentions to get drunk as it is the anniversary of a very painful day in his life but when he overhears her call he strikes up a conversation. They have an enjoyable evening and the next day he asks her to dinner and that is the start of their relationship. What started as a casual relationship soon developed into much more however will they be able to handle the hurdles of both their pasts? Whitley Cox has a way of relating the feelings of the characters to make you feel what they are feeling and I look forward to Part 2."- Gillek2
He was her addiction; she was his everything…
Emma Everly is ready for her happily ever after. James Shaw doesn’t know happiness. But Emma knows that there is more to the brilliant and sexy millionaire project developer. Yearning to experience the world of pleasure that James is offering her, with no strings and no future, Emma agrees to the parameters of his proposition. No love, just sex —and lots of it. After only one weekend, Emma feels her heart begin to bind to the man, and she knows she needs more, only James’ walls are up and he remains guarded and distant. He’s hiding something. As Emma falls hard and fast, into his intoxicating world of sex and passion, she fears that her own checkered past and James’ secrets may be what’s keeping their happily ever after just beyond their grasp.
NSFW Excerpt to whet your appetite.
“I’m twelve years older than you,” he corrected, lifting one thick eyebrow to drive home the point. “That’s a whole generation between us. I’m Generation-X, and you’re a millennial. I’m not saying I mind or that it bothers me, on the contrary, I love it. I’m just pointing out a fact. We grew up watching different Saturday morning cartoons.”
We were having this conversation as though we were sitting at home eating a private dinner together; I’d forgotten that there were eight other pairs of eyes and ears at the table, so I lowered my voice and leaned in toward him. “It doesn’t bother me either, as long as you’re not old enough to be my dad I’m cool with the age difference. In fact, I like that you’re older and more mature. It’s hot.”
He smiled again and reached under the table to squeeze my knee. Only he didn’t stop there; he found the slit that ran high up my leg and worked his hand under the fabric trailing it softly, but deftly north until he reached the juncture of my thighs. My eyes bulged at him, but I was afraid to show any more emotion on my face that might give away what was going on under the table.
I tried to keep my expression as neutral as possible, but I’m a terrible liar, so I put my head down and stared at my halibut. James had started talking to the man on his left about permits and licensing, but I couldn’t really follow what they were saying. I was too focused on the hand and fingers that were busy pushing my panties to the side and brushing my clit in hypnotizing concentric circles.
“Do you not like the halibut, dear?”
“W-what… huh?” It was the older woman sitting on my left. She was probably close to eighty-five or ninety and wearing enough jewels they could probably see her from space. Her dress was black and designed to look like a 1920s flapper. She even had the headband with a feather to match, and her butter blonde hair was short and in tight curls; I’m sure she had it set that afternoon at the beauty parlor. She was charming. I’m surprised I hadn’t noticed her sitting next to me earlier, but I guess I’d been too focused on other things.
“Oh, uh, no I love the halibut, it’s wonderful. I’m… I’m just trying to pace myself. I ate the soup and salad rather quickly because it was so good, but I’m not sure how many courses there are to go, and I want to try them all… so, so, uh, I’m slowing down a bit.”
By this time James had slipped one finger inside me and was slowly sliding it in and out while caressing my clit with his thumb. I was so wet and probably making a damp spot on my dress and in turn the fabric seat cover. What was his angle? Where the hell did he intend to go with this? Surely he didn’t expect me to come — not here!
When dessert came, he was still fiddling beneath the table, relentlessly tormenting me. I tried my damnedest to have a chat with Edith, sitting beside me, but I couldn’t form a coherent sentence.
I shifted and ground my pelvis into his hand, muffling moans of delight with my napkin. But the perpetrator in my panties didn’t seem fazed in the least and was still deep in discussion with the man on his right. I didn’t know what to do. It felt so good, but I was going to come if he didn’t stop. There were people all around us, yet at the same time I felt shrouded in a kinky cocoon of loveliness, solitary denizens caught up in our own delicious devices.
How could I orgasm at the table without anyone knowing? Thank God for the long fabric table cloths, no one was the wiser, or so I hoped.
Dessert was a continuation of the excellence before, and between the sensations, I was experiencing in my mouth and the sensations beneath the table, I was a bundle of tightly wound dynamite ready to explode. I sincerely hoped the man had a plan.
Once again as if reading my mind, he leaned over and whispered, “When everyone claps, I want you to come for me.” What? When was that going to happen?
“Ladies and gentlemen, may I have your attention please,” a big voice bellowed from the stage. I looked up to see a man in a white-tailed tux, tapping the microphone. “I’d like to announce that thanks to your generous donations tonight, and throughout the last few months we’ve managed to raise over twelve million dollars toward the renovations of the new cancer clinic.”
And then the applause erupted. James’ fingers increased their speed and force beneath the table, and in moments I couldn’t take it anymore, I closed my eyes and let go. Gripping the edge of the table, I leaned forward slightly, so any expression of ecstasy was masked by my fallen tendrils of hair. It was such an incredible feeling; to be doing something so intimate, so personal, so dirty — in public. And no one was the wiser.
The exhibitionism of it only added to the pleasure and excitement. I joined in the applause at the end when I had regained enough composure to let go of the table. Watching in fascination and insatiable hunger as James licked his fingers clean of my wetness; his eyes speaking wicked and wild promises while his mouth foreshadowed the debauchery of the evening to come.
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