You like more than one man?
Ah. Who doesn't?
I give you lots of them in my EC series KNIGHTS IN BLACK LEATHER series in the little Texas town of
Bravado!
First, we had ROPE ME IN when
one woman found bliss with 3 brothers. Then, TIE ME DOWN where a shibari master learned that the woman he wanted
most, he'd tie down...permanently.
Then we had the prequel to all this in STEAL ME AWAY when a Comanche stole an Anglo woman and kept her as
his loving wife!
Now we have BIND ME CLOSE
with Sheriff Wade Saxon, a man who never lets any woman bind him...and who
doesn't believe in sharing a woman with another man.
Too bad, isn't it, that the one woman he craves wants menage with a man
whom Wade doesn't care for. The men have a past. One wherein Giles Benedict,
the local doctor, got too close for comfort to the only other woman Wade liked.
You'll want this next story in the town where the men are good and
plenty and the women wear only a smile!
All of these three previous are available right now on EC's page as well
as on Amazon and other vendors:
EC page:
Amazon Author
Central page: http://www.amazon.com/Cerise-DeLand/e/B0089DS2N2/ref=ntt_athr_dp_pel_1
The story?
Willow Turner is a big
beautiful woman on a mission to research her famous Bravado ancestors for a
family history she’s writing. But when a robber steals her rental car, she gets
swept away by the big beautiful town sheriff. He’s gruff, he’s tough and surprisingly
appealing. She loves surprises so nothing is more startling—or sexually
exciting—than getting naked and partying privately with Wade Saxon.
Wade's a Dom who never gets involved with
the women he plays with at the local BDSM club. But sassy Willow fascinates him
and he yearns to bind her to him.
The question is can he break his own rules
and give her the three-way and exhibitionism she craves? Because if he can’t,
he won’t keep this independent lady in his bed for a few nights…let alone
forever.
A nibble of my new cherry?
The scene: Sheriff Wade Saxon of Bravado County has
just picked up Willow Turner whose car was stolen outside town by a jewel
thief. As Wade chases the culprit, Willow and he get to know each other very
well.
Hint: Willow has come to town to research the Turner-MacRae family
history. She is a descendant of Fancy Turner and Bull Elk, Chief of the
Comanche tribe in my prequel to the contemporaries STEAL ME AWAY.
Copyright 2014, Cerise DeLand. All rights
reserved.
Streaking past them going in the opposite
direction was a white flash. Willow gasped. Certainly that was her car.
Saxon did a hand-over-hand circle of the
steering wheel.
Willow grabbed at the dashboard and caught
no traction. Jesus.
They fishtailed, then off they zoomed.
Right on the tail of her hijacked Honda. Then, as if the thief had put wings on
her car, it sped ahead and disappeared over a hill.
The crash they heard was mind-jarring.
Saxon rammed on the brakes. “Grab the roof
handle!” he yelled at her as they crested a hill.
As they cleared the rise, Willow spotted
her car to one side.
Tumbling over and sliding, it crumpled
like an old tin can. It teetered on its passenger side, slammed into a tree,
the roof crushed. Smoke rose from the wreckage.
Willow clamped her hands over her mouth.
“Oh god. Oh god. Oh god.”
Saxon screeched his truck to a stop,
tail-spinning in the rocky soil. He put a hand to hers and crushed it tight.
“Stay here!”
As he ran toward the Honda, he yelled into
his dispatch radio and Willow could imagine what he said. Come.
Get an ambulance. Where’s Harris?
Willow just sat where she was and shook.
The adrenalin rushing through her was the wildest blast she’d experienced in
years.
By his dashboard clock, Willow knew she
waited for the wreck to clear for over three hours. Rapt, she just watched
Saxon and his team of emergency responders as they tried to ply the driver from
the front seat of her car with the ugly jaws of life. Firemen came, too, in two
different trucks to put out a blaze that began in the engine. Willow watched
there, knowing her suitcase and her laptop were either burnt or water-logged.
She counted her blessings. She really did, happy the thief had stolen only her
car and hadn’t tried to take it with her in it. But she was at a loss what to
do without transportation, clothing or her security blanket, also known as her
laptop.
Shit. Damn. Hell!
Drained like an old dish cloth after so
many wild minutes of the chase, she soon stopped cursing in self-pity. She
watched Sheriff Saxon talk on his cell to god knew who. Finally, he returned to
his truck and climbed in beside her. Tossing his Stetson to the rear seat, he
smoothed his unruly hair, then reached for her hands and held tight.
“I know this is quite a blow to you.”
“Yeah. A big one.”
“Sorry it took so long.”
“No, no. I’m grateful he got some help. He
looked alive when they put him in the ambulance. Is he?”
“At the moment. But he’s a mess.”
I am
too. Tears scalded her eyes.
“Hey,” he said so softly that she was
shocked a man with so much timbre in his voice could speak so low. “Cry if you
have to, but please don’t worry.”
“Worry?” she blurted, sad and appalled and
angry. She felt like a serrated knife was sawing at her insides. “I’m…just
so…stunned! I’ve got no car and no clothes and— Oh, hell. I never blubber.”
But she did. Her eyes shed crocodile
tears. Her nose ran. Her lips quivered.
And he slid over to her and wrapped her so
close in those big bulging biceps that she wilted like a picked flower in the
mid-day sun.
He dug a handkerchief from his pocket and
put it to her nose. “Blow.”
She honked right into it and sniveled her
thanks. Male comfort was such a rare benefit for any of her troubles, that she
wound her arms around his torso and loved the feel of his rock hard abs. She
wondered how to stay here in his arms. Keep crying? Jump his bones? Worry about
a Mrs. Sheriff Saxon?
Hell, how could she think of such things
after she had just lost everything?
She groaned.
He cuddled her closer and ran his hands
over her hair. “It’s been a long day.”
“Crazy,” she agreed, roping in her wild
emotions and pushing away to reclaim her dignity.
“Look at me.” He caught her chin between
two fingers and made her glance up at him. And god, he was the most fabulous
male creature she had seen since she’d watched Bradley Cooper get a hangover in
Bangkok. But this man was not on a silver screen. He breathed. He grinned. He
filled her view. Broad shoulders, sun-bleached hair, sea green eyes that
caressed and consoled. “I’m gonna fix you up, best I can. I just talked with
Cara MacRae and Samantha Turner. Told them what happened to you.”
“Oh. That’s so good of you. Thank you.
They were expecting me tonight.”
“And they still are.”
“Oh, I can’t. I don’t have any—“
“Yes, you can go.”
“How? I have nothing! No clothes even.
Look at me, Sheriff.”
His gaze flicked over her, but it was no
cursory exam. It was long, lingering and appreciative. Her breasts beaded. Her
pussy pulsed. Her panties got wet. And every nerve in her body sang a halleluya
chorus. When he caught her gaze, he said, “My name is Wade and you are going
tonight.”
Why?
Will you be there? How can I care if you are? What the hell is wrong with my
logic meter? She
ran a hand over her hair. “Sorry. Stolen cars and high speed chases and fires
are not part of my usual day.” “Believe me. I can’t go.”
“You will. Cara and Samantha are seeing to
it you have clothes. Cara owns a women’s shop in town and—”
“I’m hard to fit.”
“Not from where I sit.” His extraordinary
colored eyes danced over her once more.
If he didn’t stop that, she’d leave a wet
spot on his fine leather seat from her soaked panties. Jazzed by his sexy looks
and his sweetness, she had to be logical. “I am not your average—“
“Size four?” He arched a wicked brow. “No,
thank god, you definitely are not.”
“I’m more like—“
“Size 16. Breasts a good 40? D?”
She stared straight ahead. “I will not ask
you how you can estimate that.”
“So I’m right?”
“You have a good eye.”
He smacked his lips. “Hips, 40. The rest
of you, all nice and tight in all the right places.”
Wow, he was such a player, but was she
complaining? Only, if he has a wife.
* * * * * *
Come nibble more of my
cherries at http://cerisedeland.com
Feast on my friends’ cherries
at my blog: http://cerisedeland.blogspot.com
Twitter: @cerisedeland
Facebook: Cerise DeLand
No comments:
Post a Comment