Release Day Launch - Losing Control (Kerr Chronicles #1) by Jen Frederick ~ Newsletter Launch and Kindle Fire Giveaway!
Bestselling author Jen Frederick is offering readers a free digital serial romance via her newsletter starting on Today, May 27th. To celebrate the release, Jen is holding a Rafflecopter giveaway for a Kindle Fire e-reader loaded with her entire backlist.
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*Warning it's hot!!*
“What makes you think I’ll be done with you?” He says and he moves my hands upward until they meet in an arch above my head and he can grip my wrists in one big fist. Free, his left hand slides down my arm, leaving a trail of goose bumps in his wake. His mouth is on my chin, my jaw, and then my neck. He’s tasting me, pressing the flat of his tongue against my racing pulse. “Maybe I’ll never be done with you and your solid gold pussy.” At the last word, he closes his mouth over that pulse point and sucks hard. The only thing holding me up is his hand around my wrist. He pumps his thigh against me and an involuntary moan escapes my lips.
“I don’t care,” I manage to choke out this obvious lie because my body cares a lot. “I’m not a toy. You don’t get to put me in Barbie’s expensive town home and play with me until you’re bored. I’m a fucking real person and my mom’s a real person. And we don’t need this shit right now.”
He doesn’t stop my diatribe but he doesn’t lift his mouth from my skin either. He’s sucking hard at the spot where my neck curves into my shoulder and his hand is under my ass, moving me backward and forward along his thigh. His other hand has worked its way under my shirt and is palming my breast, a large thumb rubbing my nipple. I realize my hands are free and that I’ve been holding them above my head while he rubs all over me. When I drop my hands to his shoulders I find I can’t push him anyway. Instead, I’m using his shoulders as leverage to grind down on his thigh.
The nerve endings of my sex are hyper sensitized and I swear I can feel every thread of his superfine wool pants. His leg moves, a tiny hitch, but it interrupts the rhythm and removes the pressure. “Don’t you stop,” I threaten him, all the heat in my tone has turned from anger to throaty desire.
“Shh, bunny, I got you.” He lifts me completely and spins me around. I have no option but to wrap my legs around him. A few quick steps and we’re in another bedroom with one giant bed and nothing much else. He tumbles me back onto the bed and then lowers himself on top of me, and there’s nothing in my field of vision but the hard planes of his face and the ruddy flush of desire on the high points of his cheekbones. He looks fierce and hungry.
Before I can capture another thought, his mouth is on mine and his hand is pushing aside the lace of my soaked panties. I’m moaning from both the feel of his thick tongue inside of my mouth and the sensation of one and then two of his fingers thrusting inside me. Sucking hard on his tongue, I lift my hips to grind against his hand.
His free hand spears my hair and tugs my head back as if he can’t get his tongue deep enough inside me. He tastes of spearmint and earthiness, of true desire. My whole body is alive and it’s straining toward him, toward completion. I brace my feet against the mattress, seeking more pressure. Breaking away from his mouth, I pant, “Harder. Fuck me harder with your fingers.”
I give him a quick once over. His suit is ruined. He never took even his coat off when he finger fucked me and I’m guessing the fragile wool wasn’t meant to be worn during any intense physical encounters. There are creases in the arms and shoulders were I clutched him and was that a … stain on his thigh. I ducked my head to hide my embarrassment. “You owe me a lot of explanations.”
“I’ll be here when you’re done. Come back and we'll talk.” I give him an absent nod but it’s not sufficient of a response for him. He strides over and tips my head back. “I’m having this suit bronzed, you know.”
My cheeks heat because I know he’s referring to the mark in the wool made from my arousal. He leans down and gives me a hard kiss.
“Come back here tonight.” It’s a demand and not a question.
Bestselling author Jen Frederick lives with her husband, child, and one rambunctious dog. She's been reading stories all her life but never imagined writing one of her own. Jen loves to hear from readers so drop her a line at email@example.com.
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