| Author: | Alana Church | ISBN: | 9781370392551 |
| Publisher: | Boruma Publishing, LLC | Publication: | December 10, 2017 |
| Imprint: | Smashwords | Language: | English |
| Author: | Alana Church |
| ISBN: | 9781370392551 |
| Publisher: | Boruma Publishing, LLC |
| Publication: | December 10, 2017 |
| Imprint: | Smashwords |
| Language: | English |
Jacqueline Mathis was a straight-laced secretary, trying to claw her way up the corporate ladder. But one day she met a street musician with the voice of an angel and a body made for sin. When fate throws them together and she takes him home, can she throw off her upbringing and learn to relax? Because Darren is really cute, and he wants to teach her about Love...Hippie Style!
~~~~~ Excerpt ~~~~~
“Hmm.” Somehow, she was leaning against him, her head against his chest. The low sound he made was a gentle rumble in his chest. The sound felt strangely good. A friendly sound.
“You have beautiful hair,” he said quietly. His mouth was near her ear, and the feel of his warm breath on her skin made her shiver. She watched, fascinated, as the skin in her arm drew up in tiny goosebumps. “Why do you wear it up? I bet you’d look fantastic if you let it down.”
“I…” She fought to explain. “I want to advance in my company. Be an executive someday. I have to look professional.”
“Long hair is unprofessional?” With a start, she realized his long, clever fingers were at her scalp. There was a faint, metallic chime, and she saw a hairpin dance on the mottled surface of the coffee table, followed by several more in quick succession.
She should have been furious. Who did this near-stranger think he was, to go poking around in her hairdo without her permission? But she knew, with an instinct that went beyond logic, that she could trust him. And when the last hairpin was removed and her hair fell over his hands in a silken cloud and he combed it with his fingers, she drew in a sharp breath in sheer atavistic pleasure.
“Oh,” she said, stress melting away as the tight bun was released. “That feels good.” His fingers were at her scalp, softly rubbing, and her head slumped back against his chest. Somehow, she was cradled in his arms, both of them half-sitting, half-lying on the coach, her back to his chest, his legs stretched out to either side of hers.
He lifted her hair away, and she could feel the gentle press of his lips against her neck. She shivered in sudden pleasure. He was so gentle! So careful! She wiggled back against him and smiled. Somewhere under the bathrobe, something long and hard was pressing against the small of her back. Something impressively long, in fact, and she felt her body grow warm, thinking about it.
“You can do more than that,” she said. “Can’t you?” Reaching behind her, she found his hand and set it suggestively on her inner thigh.
She arched her back as his hands began to explore her legs. And when they lifted to her chest to slowly unbutton her blouse, she didn’t try to stop him. Soon, the buttons were undone, the blouse gaping open. Darren’s hands cupped her satin-covered mounds, softly squeezing, and she squeezed her own thighs together as warmth began to boil in her center, like a pot of water left on the stove.
Part of her knew this was madness. She barely knew the man! But the rest of her rejoiced as stress and strain melted away under his skillful hands. The constant battle to be strong in a man’s world, the never-ending struggle to prove herself, faded away as she gave in to pure sensation.
“Jackie,” Darren whispered. She gasped as his tongue flicked over her earlobe. “Can I take off your bra?”
Jacqueline Mathis was a straight-laced secretary, trying to claw her way up the corporate ladder. But one day she met a street musician with the voice of an angel and a body made for sin. When fate throws them together and she takes him home, can she throw off her upbringing and learn to relax? Because Darren is really cute, and he wants to teach her about Love...Hippie Style!
~~~~~ Excerpt ~~~~~
“Hmm.” Somehow, she was leaning against him, her head against his chest. The low sound he made was a gentle rumble in his chest. The sound felt strangely good. A friendly sound.
“You have beautiful hair,” he said quietly. His mouth was near her ear, and the feel of his warm breath on her skin made her shiver. She watched, fascinated, as the skin in her arm drew up in tiny goosebumps. “Why do you wear it up? I bet you’d look fantastic if you let it down.”
“I…” She fought to explain. “I want to advance in my company. Be an executive someday. I have to look professional.”
“Long hair is unprofessional?” With a start, she realized his long, clever fingers were at her scalp. There was a faint, metallic chime, and she saw a hairpin dance on the mottled surface of the coffee table, followed by several more in quick succession.
She should have been furious. Who did this near-stranger think he was, to go poking around in her hairdo without her permission? But she knew, with an instinct that went beyond logic, that she could trust him. And when the last hairpin was removed and her hair fell over his hands in a silken cloud and he combed it with his fingers, she drew in a sharp breath in sheer atavistic pleasure.
“Oh,” she said, stress melting away as the tight bun was released. “That feels good.” His fingers were at her scalp, softly rubbing, and her head slumped back against his chest. Somehow, she was cradled in his arms, both of them half-sitting, half-lying on the coach, her back to his chest, his legs stretched out to either side of hers.
He lifted her hair away, and she could feel the gentle press of his lips against her neck. She shivered in sudden pleasure. He was so gentle! So careful! She wiggled back against him and smiled. Somewhere under the bathrobe, something long and hard was pressing against the small of her back. Something impressively long, in fact, and she felt her body grow warm, thinking about it.
“You can do more than that,” she said. “Can’t you?” Reaching behind her, she found his hand and set it suggestively on her inner thigh.
She arched her back as his hands began to explore her legs. And when they lifted to her chest to slowly unbutton her blouse, she didn’t try to stop him. Soon, the buttons were undone, the blouse gaping open. Darren’s hands cupped her satin-covered mounds, softly squeezing, and she squeezed her own thighs together as warmth began to boil in her center, like a pot of water left on the stove.
Part of her knew this was madness. She barely knew the man! But the rest of her rejoiced as stress and strain melted away under his skillful hands. The constant battle to be strong in a man’s world, the never-ending struggle to prove herself, faded away as she gave in to pure sensation.
“Jackie,” Darren whispered. She gasped as his tongue flicked over her earlobe. “Can I take off your bra?”
