Monday, August 16, 2010
If you Dare!
Okay, Everybody, Here's an excerpt from my new book, DIRTY LITTLE SECRETS. Hope you enjoy!
A pounding at the door startled her. Slowly, she rose from her desk chair, flicked off the light and slid out into the hall to peer around a wall of the reception area. Beyond the windows, the streets were dark with an oily sheen cast by streetlights on wet pavement. A light rain had started to fall. A man stood outside on the sidewalk. He looked tough, mean even. Probably a cop.
He saw her and motioned her to open up. She played dumb, shaking her head to indicate she wasn’t open. He persisted. She knew the kind. He’d never go away unless he got what he wanted. But what the hell could he want from her? She bit her lip, hesitating, then decided.
“We’re closed. It's after office hours,” she said, opening the door an inch. Now she could see him better and absently noted a scar that cut across his lower lip and down his chin. Still, he was attractive, tall and dark, his face rugged. The shoulders of his cheap suit were filled nicely and she bet his trousers were filled just as nicely.
He waited silently while she made her perusal.
“See anything you like?” he asked, grinning. He stepped closer, the movement raw and challenging in its power ploy.
“I told you we’re closed.”
“I’m not looking to buy your services, Billie,” he said, but his gaze said otherwise. He was in the market all right for what she wasn’t selling. He stuck the toe of a black loafer in the door. She braced her small frame to keep him from any further intrusion. Her short skirt slid up revealing a good portion of thigh and he leered.
“What do you want?” she demanded, scowling. “And how do you know my name?”
“I do my homework. I just want to talk,” he said, tearing his gaze away from her anatomy. His dark gaze caught hers, bold and challenging and totally unyielding.
“What about?” she asked, trying to sound as tough as he looked.
“Let me in and I’ll explain. Here.” He held up a badge. “I’m a cop.” His expression was implacable.
“Is this the way cops question honest citizens?” she demanded without yielding one inch.
“If we have to. Open up.”
“Not by the hair on my chinny-chin-chin,” she quipped. He shoved, hard and fast, catching her unawares so she flew backward and sprawled on the floor. Her skirt flew up, the hem nesting in her crotch.
“Nice view,” he commented.
“You son of a bitch,” she raged, jumping to her feet and extracting a tiny stiletto she kept hidden in the top of her stockings. She flew at him, the weapon raised, ready to cut out his black heart.
He sidestepped her onrush, took hold of her wrist and twisted so the stiletto fell from her nerveless fingers and she was caught in his iron grip, her back against the solid wall of his chest, her derriere nestled against his crotch. She felt his cock harden and push against her and she struggled, but he held fast.
“If you really are a cop, I’ll call your superior and have you on suspension so fast, you won’t be able to snap your shorts,” she threatened. “What’s your name and badge number?”
“I’m asking the questions here. Tell me your full name.”
“Bastard, if you don’t know who I am, why did you attack me? What do you want with me? Let go.”
“Not until I’m sure you don’t have some other little surprise hidden in your stockings, Billie.” He jerked her around so now she faced him, although she was still pressed as tightly to his hard body as before and this time, she felt his arousal grind against her belly. His hands surged over her body thoroughly and completely, searching for additional weapons. He grinned. He was liking this.
“You want to do a cavity search too?” she snapped.
“I’m willing, if you are.” His dark eyes held humorous lights.
“You bastard cop,” she cried, outraged. “I’ll kill you if you try to touch me again.”
“Like you killed Pepe Cosimero?”
“I don’t know who you’re talking about,” she said, growing still for a moment. She had an inkling. He stepped back from her, pushing his dark hair off his forehead.
“I think you do,” he said quietly. “I need some answers, Billie, and I need them now.”
“Go to hell,” she cried and broke away from him, running back toward her office. Darkness had fallen over the city and the lower level of her building lay in shadows. He was right behind her; she could hear the thud of his shoes against the floor. His hand closed over her shoulder in a cruel grip that made her cry out with pain.
He threw her backward. She collided with the wall hard enough to jolt the breath from her body. For a moment she leaned, struggling to draw in air, then he was on her, his hands hard as they gripped her arms and pinned them against the wall above her head. He let the solid weight of his body trap her so she couldn’t struggle against him. She felt the heat and tensile strength of his body. Her breasts flattened against his chest, his pelvis ground against her, his arousal was complete now, hard and turgid against her mound.
She felt a betraying surge of desire and screamed her frustration. She’d never given in willingly to rape and she wouldn’t now. She’d killed the last man who tried. She’d kill this one. She bucked against him, but he rode her back against the wall and in that moment, something changed in the way he held her and the way she responded to him. She sensed it and shook her head wildly against the changing emotions. Though he still held her tightly, his clasp no longer hurt her.
His hands were large so one was all that was needed to hold her wrists above her head. He was leaning into her, breathing hard, his dark gaze studying her face. Their breath intermingled, their gazes caught and held. He moved against her slightly, the motion less punitive, more seductive. His gaze still holding hers, he slowly lowered his free hand and ran it over the curve of her breast.
In their struggle her jacket had come undone and the only thing between his flesh and hers was a thin silk camisole. The full roundness of her breast rested in his palm as if it had come home. She felt her nipple harden, felt the answering tingle between her legs. Her thighs twitched to part. Time stood still, went backward to some more fundamental evolution where all that mattered was a man and a woman wanting each other.
A pounding at the door startled her. Slowly, she rose from her desk chair, flicked off the light and slid out into the hall to peer around a wall of the reception area. Beyond the windows, the streets were dark with an oily sheen cast by streetlights on wet pavement. A light rain had started to fall. A man stood outside on the sidewalk. He looked tough, mean even. Probably a cop.
He saw her and motioned her to open up. She played dumb, shaking her head to indicate she wasn’t open. He persisted. She knew the kind. He’d never go away unless he got what he wanted. But what the hell could he want from her? She bit her lip, hesitating, then decided.
“We’re closed. It's after office hours,” she said, opening the door an inch. Now she could see him better and absently noted a scar that cut across his lower lip and down his chin. Still, he was attractive, tall and dark, his face rugged. The shoulders of his cheap suit were filled nicely and she bet his trousers were filled just as nicely.
He waited silently while she made her perusal.
“See anything you like?” he asked, grinning. He stepped closer, the movement raw and challenging in its power ploy.
“I told you we’re closed.”
“I’m not looking to buy your services, Billie,” he said, but his gaze said otherwise. He was in the market all right for what she wasn’t selling. He stuck the toe of a black loafer in the door. She braced her small frame to keep him from any further intrusion. Her short skirt slid up revealing a good portion of thigh and he leered.
“What do you want?” she demanded, scowling. “And how do you know my name?”
“I do my homework. I just want to talk,” he said, tearing his gaze away from her anatomy. His dark gaze caught hers, bold and challenging and totally unyielding.
“What about?” she asked, trying to sound as tough as he looked.
“Let me in and I’ll explain. Here.” He held up a badge. “I’m a cop.” His expression was implacable.
“Is this the way cops question honest citizens?” she demanded without yielding one inch.
“If we have to. Open up.”
“Not by the hair on my chinny-chin-chin,” she quipped. He shoved, hard and fast, catching her unawares so she flew backward and sprawled on the floor. Her skirt flew up, the hem nesting in her crotch.
“Nice view,” he commented.
“You son of a bitch,” she raged, jumping to her feet and extracting a tiny stiletto she kept hidden in the top of her stockings. She flew at him, the weapon raised, ready to cut out his black heart.
He sidestepped her onrush, took hold of her wrist and twisted so the stiletto fell from her nerveless fingers and she was caught in his iron grip, her back against the solid wall of his chest, her derriere nestled against his crotch. She felt his cock harden and push against her and she struggled, but he held fast.
“If you really are a cop, I’ll call your superior and have you on suspension so fast, you won’t be able to snap your shorts,” she threatened. “What’s your name and badge number?”
“I’m asking the questions here. Tell me your full name.”
“Bastard, if you don’t know who I am, why did you attack me? What do you want with me? Let go.”
“Not until I’m sure you don’t have some other little surprise hidden in your stockings, Billie.” He jerked her around so now she faced him, although she was still pressed as tightly to his hard body as before and this time, she felt his arousal grind against her belly. His hands surged over her body thoroughly and completely, searching for additional weapons. He grinned. He was liking this.
“You want to do a cavity search too?” she snapped.
“I’m willing, if you are.” His dark eyes held humorous lights.
“You bastard cop,” she cried, outraged. “I’ll kill you if you try to touch me again.”
“Like you killed Pepe Cosimero?”
“I don’t know who you’re talking about,” she said, growing still for a moment. She had an inkling. He stepped back from her, pushing his dark hair off his forehead.
“I think you do,” he said quietly. “I need some answers, Billie, and I need them now.”
“Go to hell,” she cried and broke away from him, running back toward her office. Darkness had fallen over the city and the lower level of her building lay in shadows. He was right behind her; she could hear the thud of his shoes against the floor. His hand closed over her shoulder in a cruel grip that made her cry out with pain.
He threw her backward. She collided with the wall hard enough to jolt the breath from her body. For a moment she leaned, struggling to draw in air, then he was on her, his hands hard as they gripped her arms and pinned them against the wall above her head. He let the solid weight of his body trap her so she couldn’t struggle against him. She felt the heat and tensile strength of his body. Her breasts flattened against his chest, his pelvis ground against her, his arousal was complete now, hard and turgid against her mound.
She felt a betraying surge of desire and screamed her frustration. She’d never given in willingly to rape and she wouldn’t now. She’d killed the last man who tried. She’d kill this one. She bucked against him, but he rode her back against the wall and in that moment, something changed in the way he held her and the way she responded to him. She sensed it and shook her head wildly against the changing emotions. Though he still held her tightly, his clasp no longer hurt her.
His hands were large so one was all that was needed to hold her wrists above her head. He was leaning into her, breathing hard, his dark gaze studying her face. Their breath intermingled, their gazes caught and held. He moved against her slightly, the motion less punitive, more seductive. His gaze still holding hers, he slowly lowered his free hand and ran it over the curve of her breast.
In their struggle her jacket had come undone and the only thing between his flesh and hers was a thin silk camisole. The full roundness of her breast rested in his palm as if it had come home. She felt her nipple harden, felt the answering tingle between her legs. Her thighs twitched to part. Time stood still, went backward to some more fundamental evolution where all that mattered was a man and a woman wanting each other.
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