Today’s Tasty Teaser Comes From:
I removed my shoes, letting the plush carpet comfort my tired feet, and made my way to the restroom. The concert goers and staff were long gone, making the hall eerie. Under normal circumstances, I would be reveling in the fortunate events of the evening, but encountering Cyril—rather, Mr. Peters—caused an old wound to fester. I wondered what the hell he was. A ghost? Long-lost twin? Or had I finally gone crazy?
I reached behind my neck with both hands and unclasped the necklace irritating my skin. Using my behind to bump open the bathroom door, I slipped inside.
The restroom was left over from a time when women escaped from overbearing men to powder shiny noses and gossip about how much other women gossiped. The walls were covered in a garish color best described as grandma-was-a-whore pink. I placed the necklace and my shoes on one of the worn sea-green velvet benches as the door on its pneumatic hinge creaked closed.
I shivered from a resurgence of the strange current that radiated through me earlier. Maybe Cyril wasn’t the cause. Maybe I was getting si—
He held me against the wall with such strength my feet no longer touched the ground. Supported by the crushing force of his body, the compression caused my breasts to escape an already bulging blouse, and mashed my nipples against the horrid paint. His chest rose and fell against my back. He spoke, not with the same American accent he tried to deceive me with earlier, but rather the tones of the British Isles mixed with something ancient and familiar. “Who are you?” His breath, hot against my ear, and a soft, rich voice contrasted with the violence of the leg wedged between my thighs.
He restrained my hands above my head in the steel grasp of his fist. I attempted to answer him, but couldn’t force enough air into my lungs. He growled. His chest rumbled.
The intense heat of his body was a dramatic contrast to the cold wall on my exposed skin. My nipples hardened to painful peaks. He brought his free hand to my throat, cradling it in warning. The next moment he spoke in low, punctuated notes.
“Who…the…fuck…are…you?” The words reverberated, sustaining the menace.
I managed only a whimper, too shocked to form complete words. His grip loosened, but he did not release me. I swallowed hard. “Lin—”
“I know your name, Mrs. Green. Don’t take me for a fool. Now tell me why you have seen fit to steal from me?” He inhaled a sharp breath. “How dare you take what was not freely given. Do you have any idea what you have done…” His last words were uttered on a groan as he lowered me, shifted, and then rubbed his swollen arousal against my ass.
The friction of his body did strange things to me. My head clouded with images of our earlier life together, making it difficult to form rational thoughts. Flashes of a fantasy I once had of him where he took me against the glass wall of his cabin penetrated the fear.
I mustered as much air as possible and issued my indignant response. “You don’t have any right to complain about things that aren’t freely given. Hypocritical of you given our current position, isn’t it?”
He growled and moved his leg, still seated between mine, in a slow and rhythmic friction against my sex. It was a dare. He was egging me on. He wanted me to defy him again; it was evident in his every movement.
I groaned and slammed my eyes closed, trying to ignore the heat building in my stomach. Another deep inhalation made it easier to speak. “What exactly do you think I stole from you?”
He moaned as he slowly licked my neck from nape to ear and whispered, “Everything. You, my little thief, need to convince me that I shouldn’t take it back.”
Never had anyone touched me in such a way, and my traitorous body couldn’t care less about right or wrong, good or bad. It was need. The need to be touched. To feel alive. The need for him. Damn the consequences. I shivered as his breath blew cold across the wet trail his tongue left on my searing skin. He shifted, wedging his clothed erection firmly into the cleft of my ass, while his heat penetrated every place he touched.
He grabbed my chin with the hand he once had at my throat, and turned my face. In the mirror, our reflection was a disturbing yet erotic sight. Seeing myself pushed against the wall made the vision terrifying, but at the same time arousing.
As his body blanketed mine, a voice in the back of my mind whispered, Surrender. His height, broad shoulders, narrow hips, and well-defined muscles were all discernible through his custom-made black suit. His hair framed the sharp angles of his masculine face—straight nose, square, shadowed jaw, and full, sensual lips.
My red locks had fallen free from the pin, and my skirt had worked its way around my waist. With three small freckles exposed, the lacy strap of my thong highlighted my bare ass.
His body cocooned mine, but it was the ever-so-slight swirling motion of his hips rubbing his cock between my cheeks that precipitated my groan.
I raised my eyes to make contact with the brilliant pools of blue. Finally he broke the silence, but not his gaze.
“Are you going to start explaining, or do I need to find other means of persuasion?” He thrust his hips in warning.
I moaned. Somewhere deep in my mind, beyond the fear and intense lust, I knew I should start talking, but another part of me wanted to feel, more than anything, what it would be like to be fucked into submission—to be possessed by him. I had been cold and alone inside for so long. He was life, sex, and death in one dangerous package.
NOW do you all see why I freaking LOVE this series!!! Next week’s teaser will be from a cowgirl whose book may very well help out the panty industry!!