Wednesday, May 30, 2018

Best fucking head, best fucking wife, best fucking fuck of my life. #FREE #NSFW excerpt from True, Deep and Forever: Part 1

True, Deep and Forever: Part 1
Book 5 of The Dark and Damaged Hearts

One marriage ... a second chance at love

Eight years ago their love was instantaneous, all-consuming and intense. Garret Banks had to have Amy Shaw the moment he met her, and no one thought the flame would ever go out.

Now, they have everything they’ve ever wanted: great careers, a beautiful baby, and a rock-solid marriage. Or do they? Garret’s high-stress architectural job is taking its toll. Amy's predicaments would be hilarious if they didn't make her want to cry. And to make matters worse, her ex is back in the picture, demanding answers about the wild passion she left behind — answers she isn’t willing to give. 

Garret and Amy grab quick, dirty sex while they can, but in between mommy wars, annoying in-laws, sleep deprivation and fears of betrayal, their marriage is put to the test time and time again. Once they were sure love conquers all, but how far can one marriage bend before it snaps?

He brought each of my nipples into his mouth, sucked and laved until they were hard points, before fastening the rubber-tipped clamps. A dull pain swept through my breasts, making its way down the rest of my body, landing and growing warm and wonderful between my legs.
Seconds later he was back inside, thrusting hard, riding me. His hands gripped my hips, and his fingers roughly kneaded my already hypersensitive skin.
“Your ass is so fucking sexy with all these marks. I want to bite it.”
Before I could say anything, before I could beg him to bite my ass and make me burn, he pulled out and ducked his head. I thought for sure he was going to take a chunk out of me, and I braced myself for it. I loved a good vampire bite; nothing wrong with teeth.
Only he didn’t bite. Instead he snaked his tongue between my legs and up through my slick folds. I pressed back into him and spread my thighs wide, the orgasm building again and this time unwilling to go unanswered. Swirling his tongue around my clit until I was a mewling mess, he beckoned my release. He plunged two fingers inside and pumped, coaxed, twiddled, scissored just right. I was panting and frantic and so damn needy, at that moment I would have done anything to come. And of course that’s when he bit me. And it wasn’t just a sweet little nip on the back of my thigh, either. No. My husband went in like a fucking lion, chomping down hard and pulling the chain between the nipple clamps as well, until he earned the scream from my lips he craved.
I heard the tear of a condom wrapper, and seconds later he was back inside me. This time the mission was clear. We were done playing games. Wrapping one arm around my waist, he dipped his hand between my legs and began drawing luscious circles around my hard and swollen clit, his fingers gliding with ease up through my cleft.
“You’re going to come hard for me, aren’t you, my sexy little masochist?”
“Yes,” I panted. My whole body buzzed with the desire to come, the need so all-consuming, at that point I might have chosen an orgasm over breathing.
“Then come for me.” He pinched my clit; I let go. My mouth opened, but nothing besides warm air came out, followed by a weird squeak. Bright and colorful lights flashed behind my closed lids, and my pulse thundered in my ears. I heard Garret break behind me, then stiffen as he found his release.
Moments later, he nipped my ear. “Best fucking head, best fucking wife, best fucking fuck of my life.”
I didn’t bother opening my eyes, but I smiled. The compliments didn’t get much better than that. My entire body was slipping into atrophy, and my ass stung like a bitch. “Same here, baby. Same here.”

Sunday, May 27, 2018

Drop dead sexy and inhuman?

Book One
The Wolves Den


“Hi, I saw your help wanted sign and came in to apply for the position.”

“You want to be a waitress?” The guy on the right said forcing her to take her gaze away from his friend.

“No, I don’t have any experience but you said you were willing to train a bartender, and I’m willing to learn. Sounds like a match made in heaven.”

Darn it when would she learn not to say stupid things. It’s a wonder she ever landed a job.

“I’m not sure about that position.”

No, hell no. She was tired of being rejected. It didn’t matter if it was skin color or body size she wasn’t putting up with it anymore.

“So what’s your issue? Is my skin too dark or is my body to big? Do your patrons only like women who look like Barbie? Or do they like them with just a little meat on their body but not full figured like me? Maybe somebody forgot to tell them that black is beautiful. Go ahead surprise me. Tell me which one you have a problem with or it is both of them.”

Why Deja, why? Do I ask for a lot? Okay maybe I ask for a lot, but only recently and then you threaten to lock me in the cage with my friend because you say I can’t keep my hands to myself.
For once she felt sorry for her libido. It was unfair to meet someone as hot as this and find out the male was a pig.

It wasn’t her libido that was concerning her it was the voice in the cage. She was practically growling now, rubbing her body against the cage like she was in heat. That feeling she got like sometimes there was something just a bit different about her came back.

“Why don’t we start over again. That’s Declyn, and I’m Enzo. Declyn’s in charge around here, but I usually handle the hiring.”

Enzo she would so be dreaming about him tonight.

“I’m Deja, and all I want is a job.” She lifted her chin and stuck her chest out saying without words that she was proud of who she was.

“Pity, I want so much more,” Enzo gave her a wink.

Friday, May 25, 2018

#FirstChapterFriday: RIP CORD by USAT Bestselling Author Jeanne St. James #Gay #Sports #Romance

Rip Cord: The Complete Trilogy

By USAT Bestselling Author Jeanne St. James

Genre: M/M Sports Romance, LGBTQ

Available on Amazon and FREE in Kindle Unlimited:

From Seriously Reviewed:

"Well, I sat down to read and burned dinner! I couldn't stop reading...  This is hot gay erotic romance. So when boy sees hot football star, boy lusts for football star, and holy shit, the football star has game of his own. The sex was raw and brazen, the dialog refreshingly natural and the ending pleasantly simple and satisfying."


The Reunion:
Gil Davis hated high school. Ever the geek, he has no intentions of attending his 10th year class reunion. The last thing he wants is to relive the taunting and teasing he received during his teenage years. However, there is one thing he misses from high school: the star Varsity football player. The one he had a crush on from the first day he laid eyes on him. But the last thing he expects is the now pro football player to come back to their home town to attend a lame high school reunion. Known as the Bad Boy of the NFL, Ripley “Rip” Cord, not only shows up, but shows up without a date and an eye for Gil.

The Weekend:
Geek Gil Davis hasn’t heard a word from NFL player, Rip Cord, since hooking up at their class reunion. Then Rip calls him unexpectedly, he’s taking Gil to his cabin for a weekend of erotic exploration.

The Ever After:
When Rip Cord is kicked out of the NFL, he shows up unexpectedly at Gil Davis’ front door. With his career over, Rip’s finally ready for a future with Gil, if Gil’s willing to give him another chance.

Chapter One

Gil Davis couldn’t believe it had been ten years since he’d last walked through these doors. Where had the time gone?
When the invitation to his class reunion had come, he’d almost tossed it out, just as he had with the notice of his five-year reunion.
He was not into reliving his high school years.
No way, no how.
But something on the invitation had caught his eye. This time they were holding it at the school. So instead of immediately pitching it, he had thrown the invitation on his kitchen table. Unfortunately Katie, his best friend and roommate, found it and hounded him relentlessly until he agreed to RSVP.
And, of course, Katie insisted on being his date.
Which thrilled him to no end…not.
Now he wasn’t so sure if he wanted to go in.
He wasn’t sure he was ready for a night of teasing from his former schoolmates.
Yet, here he stood, just inside the double doors of his old high school, staring at the registration table by the gymnasium doors.
Someone grabbed his elbow. Firmly.
“You’re not chickening out, are you?”
Gil shook his head and swallowed hard. “Did you find the restroom all right?”
“Fine,” Katie said in her little no-nonsense tone. “Let’s go.”
The harder she tugged on his arm, the more he dug in his heels. He didn’t want to leave his little corner of safety yet. “Hold on.”
“No, Gil. It’s not going to get any easier. You look fine. We’ve—okay, I’ve worked really hard to get you to this point.” She smoothed the hair back from his eyes. Gil was surprised she hadn’t spit on her fingers first like a hovering mother hen.
The problem was, he was still a nerd at heart.
“Now, get your shit together and let’s go!” She gave his arm one last hard yank and dragged him over to the table.
Sucking in a breath, he steeled himself for what was to come.
The two women sitting at the table wore big predatory smiles.
“Gilbert? Gilbert Davis, is that you?” the toothy piranha on the right asked. “I swear I didn’t recognize you without your bottle-bottom glasses and pocket protector.”
Those glasses were long gone, thanks to Katie forcing him to the optometrist for contacts years ago.
Gil leaned forward to read her name tag. Bonnie (Trusk) Smith.
Bonnie Trusk. He remembered her. She had been part of the homecoming court their senior year.
And had accidentally run over his foot one day in the parking lot with her father’s Ford Expedition. Why? Her excuse had been she hadn’t seen him. Yeah, he had been the invisible man, “invisible” to all the popular kids.
“Just Gil,” he corrected her.
She laughed and waved a hand toward him, clearly dismissing him.
The other woman, Patti Petroski-Harrison, shoved a Hello! My name is… Gilbert Davis sticker at him. “And your hair! It looks…” Gil expected the next word out of her mouth to be normal. Her face showed her internal struggle. “Nice.”
He was a geek. He knew it. He had been one ever since he could remember. And his classmates had always teased him about it.
She sized up Katie. “Are you his wife?”
Katie laughed and patted Gil’s arm. “Oh no.”
Gil shot her a quick warning look.
Katie gave him a sugary smile and a noisy kiss on the cheek.
“Well then,” Patti said. “When you go through the doors, Gilbert, there will be a table with place settings. Find your name, and that will tell you where you’re seated.”
“Just Gil,” he corrected again, but by then both women were flashing their beaming smiles at another couple who had come up behind them.
Katie tugged him to the side to avoid being crushed by the new arrivals’ hugging and squealing. Gil didn’t recognize the newcomers. But then they had probably been a part of the “in” group.
Gil had been a full-fledged member of the “out” group, but not the “out of the closet” group.
A woman’s shrill scream shot a bolt of pain through his head.
“Did you hear Rip Cord is going to be here? Can you believe it?” Patti asked, her question ending in a squeal. She looked as if she would bust a vein.
Gil stumbled back a step from the table, barely avoiding Katie’s toes.
Holy hell, he never should have agreed to come to this thing. Especially if he’d known Rip would be here.
Gil had a crush on Rip since high school. Unfortunately, Rip was definitely of the heterosexual persuasion. Being captain of the football team, he’d had every girl in school chasing after him, one way or another.
So Gil had admired the well-built, handsome jock from afar. Very afar.
Hearing Rip’s name brought all those old feelings back to the surface.
All the insecurities.
Gil certainly had never expected his secret crush to come back to town for a ten-year class reunion. Rip had become way too famous for that.
Gil grabbed Katie’s arm and, with her squeaky protest, dragged her through the double doors into the gym.
“Jesus, Gil. What’s going on?” she asked as he pushed her against the wall just inside the doors.
“Did you hear that?” He struggled not to hyperventilate.
“What?” Katie peeled the backing off Gil’s name tag and slapped it onto his chest. Not so gently either.
“Rip’s going to be here.”
“Rip?” She wrinkled her nose. “What the hell is rip?”
“Not what. Who!” Gil swallowed hard and blew out a long breath. He realized then he was squeezing her upper arms. Way too hard. He relaxed his fingers.
“Okay, okay. Calm down. And let up a little more, please.”
He released her and wiped his sweaty palms along his slacks. He never should have worn slacks. Slacks were nerd wear.
Why didn’t Katie talk him out of wearing them? He should have worn torn jeans or leather pants or—
“So, is Rip a band? I would’ve thought they just would’ve hired a DJ. It’s cheaper.”
“Wait. What?” Gil shook his head. “First of all, why would they need music?”
Katie pointed a finger upward. “Hear that, nerd-o? Music. You know, it creates atmosphere and gives you something to dance to.”
“Dance?” Gil swallowed hard. He cocked his head. He did hear music. He hadn’t noticed it because he’d been too panicked about Rip being there. “Okay, just don’t ask me to dance.”
“No can do, Gilly. We will be dancing. I didn’t come along to be a wallflower.”
“Katie, you know I can’t dance,” he hissed, inches from her face.
She had the nerve to laugh. As if his lack of rhythm was something to laugh about. His coordination left something to be desired. Gil considered it a handicap—maybe not one recognized by the government. But no one should make fun of the handicapped!
Gil frowned. “I didn’t see anything on the invitation about dancing.”
Katie sighed. “Gilly, don’t worry, we’ll fake it.”
“Don’t call me Gilly here. It’s bad enough people will be calling me Gilbert.”
“Okay, Gil. So if Rip isn’t a band, then who or what is it?”
A low murmur throughout the room behind him caused Gil to look up. Coming through the doors…
Gil pressed a hand to the wall to steady himself. His legs had suddenly lost all strength.
Coming through the doors was…
“Him,” was all Gil could get past the lump in his throat.
“Him?” Katie turned the direction Gil was staring, and her mouth made a little O.
Gil had expected Rip to walk in with a tall, leggy blonde on his arm—one who was enhanced in various places. He hadn’t expected Rip to come… alone?
Ripley “Rip” Cord was just as tall as Gil remembered. Around five inches taller than him, not that Gil was a squirt. The football player was at least six foot two.
And every inch of him was muscle. Not lean muscle, but heavy muscle. Heavy, rounded, lickable muscle.
Gil glanced at Katie. “You’re drooling.”
Katie wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “As if you aren’t.”
Gil snagged her wrist and backpedaled until he rammed into something hard. It was the table with the place settings.
Gil peered over Katie’s shoulder to see if his klutziness had caught Rip’s attention.
Luckily it hadn’t. The man was completely surrounded by their former classmates clamoring for his attention.
Throughout the years, he’d followed Rip’s career on the Internet, on the evening news, on ESPN.
And in the tabloids. The kind you find at the grocery store checkout.
Rip was well-known. Unfortunately, it was as the “bad boy” of the National Football League. He started out with a great career in the NFL, drafted straight out of college. He was one of the best wide receivers in the league, but it was all his rumored problems that kept him in the spotlight, not his stats.
And that famous wide receiver was here. Now.
“C’mon, Katie! Don’t stare.”
“Jesus, Gilly, because you have a crush on him!”
Heat crawled up Gil’s neck. He was glad the lights were turned down in the gymnasium. He didn’t want anyone seeing him blush.
Hell, he was twenty-eight years old. He shouldn’t be blushing. He suddenly felt seventeen all over again.
He pulled away from Katie to study the name cards remaining on the table. Of course, he read the same card over and over before Katie squealed.
Oh. My. God. Here he comes!”
Gil nervously tugged Katie next to his side and threw an arm haphazardly around her shoulders.
“Ouch,” she yelped as her curly red hair got caught on the button of his cuff.
“Sorry,” he whispered and straightened up just as Rip arrived at the table.
Gil swore he saw spots. He was not going to faint. He was not going to faint.
His knees buckled, and he grabbed for the nearest solid thing.
Rip grasped his forearm and held Gil steady. “You all right, buddy?”
Gil looked up—and up—into deep blue eyes. Eyes he had never forgotten. To this day they haunted his dreams.
Dreams he usually woke up from with a raging hard-on.
Gil opened his mouth to answer, but nothing came out. Rip smacked him hard on the back.
“Are you sure you’re okay?”
Gil nodded.
“Did you find your name card yet?” Rip asked, flashing him a bright, white smile.
Gil shook his head.
Rip moved closer, almost hip to hip with Gil, to study the table of white folded cardstock. Gil fought the urge to lean in and nuzzle the larger man's neck, inhaling his manly scent. Roll around in it like a dog.
Hell, he'd probably end up sporting a black eye if he tried.
Even so, Rip’s large hands, his long fingers, fascinated Gil as he reached out to snag a card off the table.
“Here you are.” He lifted Gil’s hand, cupping it from the bottom.
Gil could feel the rough, calloused palm against his knuckles. A thrill ran down his spine as Rip tucked the tented name card into his curled fingers.
Rip remembered his name? He must have if he had picked Gil’s name out from the place settings.
Gil quickly glanced down at his own chest. Crap. He’d probably read his Hello. My name is… sticker.
Rip’s deep voice broke into his thoughts. “I’ve dreamed of you, Gilbert.”
Gil looked up at him in shock. “What?”
“I said, I remember you, Gilbert. Don’t look so surprised.”
Rip lifted one brow. “Again?”
“He goes by Gil now,” Katie butted in. “I’m Katie.” She held out her hand.
Instead of shaking it, Rip lifted it and brushed his lips over her knuckles.
“Oh, a gentleman, huh? Hard to find these days.”
“Hardly.” Rip laughed, then pinned Gil with a stare. “Is she your girl?”
Gil’s gaze flicked to Katie, who stood entranced, staring at Rip. He knew the feeling.
Rip had a strong square jaw, currently covered in a super-short beard since it wasn’t game season. He sported shoulder-length dirty-blond hair with sun-kissed highlights due to the time he spent outdoors.
His long legs were encased in black jeans, which sinfully hugged the muscles they covered. He had on a tight black T-shirt under an equally black but very worn leather jacket. A biker jacket, not a designer jacket. Heavy leather with rivets, sporting buckles and zippers.
He looked bad. So bad, he looked good.
Even so, Gil couldn’t help thinking it was way too warm out for a leather jacket.
“Where are you sitting?” Katie piped in, tearing Rip’s attention away from Gil and onto her.
Damn. Rip had always liked the ladies, and it seemed to be no different now.
Gil quickly scanned the table and found Rip’s name card. Table 15. He looked at his own. Table 13.
Hell. Unlucky thirteen. He couldn’t be lucky enough to be sitting with the NFL star. He was sure whoever organized the reunion had Rip sitting with the popular crowd—or at least the former jocks from high school.
“With you guys.” Rip plucked his place card off the table. “Have a pen?”
What the hell? Was Rip going to be hitting on Katie all night? Gil didn’t know if he could sit there and watch that.
“Don’t you wear a pocket protector anymore?” Rip asked him, running a finger over his shirt pocket. Gil’s nipples hardened instantly, and he bit back a gasp.
“N-no,” Gil stuttered. Katie had forbidden them. Even at work.
“Here. I have one.” Katie handed Rip a pen she extracted from her purse.
Rip gave her a smile in thanks and used the pen to scribble out the 13 on Gil’s name card. He replaced it with the number 15.
He handed the pen back to Katie and the name card back to Gil, the pads of his fingers lingering on Gil’s palm.
Gil fisted his hand, still feeling the tingling sensation left behind.
He had to get a grip.
Rip was a football player. A man’s man.
Too bad he wasn’t Gil’s man.

About the Author:

JEANNE ST. JAMES is a USA Today bestselling erotic romance author who loves an alpha male (or two). She was only thirteen when she started writing. Her first paid published piece was an erotic story in Playgirl magazine. Her first erotic romance novel, Banged Up, was published in 2009. She is happily owned by farting French bulldogs. She writes M/F, M/M, and M/M/F ménages. Want to read a sample of her work? Download a sampler book here:

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