***Release Day Blitz and Giveaway*** Very Twisted Things (Briarcrest Academy Novel #3) by Ilsa Madden-Mills

RELEASE BLITZ

Very Twisted Things

A Standalone Briarcrest Academy Novel #3

Author: New York Times best selling author Ilsa Madden-Mills

Introductory price of $2.99 on release day for 24 hours only!

    A beautiful violinist who lives next door… The obsessed rock star who watches her... And the one night she bares it all.
  Description:
 Vital Rejects front guy Sebastian Tate never imagined his YouTube music video would go viral, sky-rocketing him to acting success in Hollywood. Okay, maybe he did. After all, he’s a cocky dude who knows he’s hot-as-hell, and it was only a matter of time before his stars aligned.   But life in Tinseltown is never what it seems.   After being cheated on, Sebastian’s only rule to falling in love is simple: Keep Calm and Don’t Do It.

Spying on his mysterious new neighbor with binoculars seems innocent enough, but quickly escalates into an erotic game between two very unlikely people.

Twenty-year-old Violet St. Lyons is a world-renowned violinist who's lost her mojo on stage. She hides away in a Hollywood mansion, trying to find her way through her twisted past in order to make her future.

   He’s the life of the party with girls chasing him down for his autograph. She’s the introvert with a potty mouth who doesn’t even know who he is.   When they meet, stars collide, sparks fly, and clothes come off. Yet, giving his heart to a girl isn’t Sebastian’s plan; falling for a guy who craves attention isn’t Violet’s.

 Welcome to Briarcrest Academy—Hollywood style—where sometimes the best things in life are VERY TWISTED THINGS.

Prologue

Violet

“Fairy dust is not real. This I know.” —from the journal of Violet St. Lyons

Boom!

I, Violet St. Lyons, who once believed herself the luckiest girl in the world, was born on the same day that the Violette–Sells comet was discovered. My parents, two avid stargazers, said it was a sign of how special I was and promptly named me Violet. They claimed my life had been blessed with fairy dust.

At the very least, comet residue.

I’d foolishly believed it for eighteen years, until the moment of my death.

Which was now.

Boom! Another explosion rocked the plane and metal ripped away as a section of the aircraft to my right vanished. Luggage flew through the air. People disappeared. The mom with the baby who’d sat in the aisle across from us—gone. The redheaded flight attendant who’d been collecting trash—gone. Disembodied screams echoed from the surrounding passengers as my own scream took up most of the space in my head. Air sucked at us viciously from the outside as a tornado of people banged around the space and one by one got pulled out into the swirling abyss.

I watched, helplessly transfixed, as I sat between my parents, gripping each of their hands as the plane we’d boarded six hours earlier for Dublin spiraled toward the Atlantic Ocean. I was going to die. My mother was already dead, a twisted piece of shrapnel sticking grotesquely from her chest as her head lolled around her neck. Blood had already soaked her shirt, yet I refused to let go of her hand. She’d be okay. We were always okay. We were the St. Lyons family of Manhattan, an icon of old money wealth with deep political ties. Page six of the New York Times featured pictures of us on a monthly basis. We couldn’t die on a plane.

Reality dawned as we plummeted. The yellow breathing apparatus dropped and dangled in my face, taunting me with its pointlessness. Fire and black smoke boiled in front of us where the cockpit had been, and my mind recognized that the pilots had to be dead. Just a few minutes ago, they’d come over the intercom and announced that the plane was making its descent into Dublin Airport exactly on schedule.

Then the first explosion had gone off.

Bits of debris flew around, narrowly missing me. My elderly father grabbed my hand and squeezed, his face drawn back in a horrible grimace.

Paralyzed in my seat, we spun like a drunken top, and a part of my brain noticed the sun was rising, its pink tinge lending a soft glow, catching the reflection of clouds and making them silver-lined. The rocky coast of Ireland glittered in the distance. Mocking me. We’d been headed there to celebrate my eighteenth birthday.

Just then my violin case flew past my head from the overhead compartment and crashed against the wall of the plane. Shards flew. I shuddered and wanted to vomit. God, help us. We were here because of me. Our deaths were my fault. I spared a glance at the diamond promise ring Geoff had given me before we’d left.

Would the Mayor of New York’s son go on without me?

The air was turbulent yet thin, and my chest tightened as dizziness pulled at me. I resisted. Had to stay awake. Had to be with my dad. I was younger, stronger, faster. My eyes went to the gaping hole in the plane. Had to think ahead. Plan. Water would fill up the plane on impact, ensuring we’d sink rapidly.

My fear escalated as the ocean rushed at us, its surface choppy and ominous. I took in a giant breath and braced myself. We hit at an angle, the plane a torpedo as it sliced into the sea. Daddy disappeared, ejected by the impact, and I yanked on my seat belt, unclicking it to go after him. Heart thundering, I sent a final look at my mother. I wanted to take her with me, but she was gone.

Water everywhere, bubbling and gurgling as it filled up the plane. Salt water stung my eyes. People floated by, some alive as they floundered for the opening. I kept my gaze off the dead ones. Focus. Get out. Only seconds left.

I swam from my seat and fought my way out of the large hole in the plane, lungs exploding. Burning. I’d been under too long.

Daddy! I caught a glimpse of his red shirt above me and kicked harder.

Up, up, up. Must get up. My arms moved. My legs kicked. Excruciating pain. Ignore it. Almost there. So close that I could see the daylight breaking through the water.

The hottest fire I’ve ever known lit in my chest. Scorching.

Air. Just want to breathe. Just get to the top. Please.

My body rebelled and I inhaled and swallowed water, the burn racing down my throat making it spasm as I tried to cough it out. I struggled but took in more and more, the cold liquid filling my lungs.

Dark spots filled my eyes. This was drowning.

Exhausted.

Done.

My body twitched. I grew disoriented.

I let go of the fight. My hands floated in front of me.

Oblivion.

Darkness.

No bright lights, no tunnel.

No heaven, no mother, no father.

No comets.

No fairy dust.

Chapter 1

Sebastian

Two years later

“She was music with skin.” —Sebastian Tate

I tapped my foot.

What was taking her so long?

From my backyard patio in the Hollywood Hills, I watched the odd girl next door with a pair of high-powered binoculars. She flicked on her porch lights, and a low whistle came out of me at the sexy red-as-sin robe she wore, its silky material flashing around her long legs as she moved around. Her hair was down, too.

This was new. Where were the usual yoga pants? The ponytail?

She looked like she knew someone watched, but that was impossible since our outside lights were off. Even the light from the moon hit our house at such an angle that she shouldn’t be able to see us just by glancing over. She’d need a high-powered lens to know I was here.

Usually she played facing her rose garden, but this time she walked to the right side of her patio, which faced us. Weird. But she didn’t play. She just stood there without moving. Staring toward our house. Uneasiness went over me.

What was she doing?

Could she see me?

As if it were a fragile bird, she positioned the violin under her chin and began playing, arms bent and wrist poised, making the most exquisite sounds. And I don’t mean classical like Beethoven or Mozart; I mean body-thrashing, blood-thumping, hard-as-hell music that had me rooted to the ground, like she’d slapped iron chains on me.

Dark and seductive notes rose up in the air, and I got jacked up, recognizing a Led Zeppelin song, only she’d ripped its guts out and twisted it into something electric. She pushed the bow hard, upping the tempo abruptly, her movements controlled yet wild. My pulse kicked up and my eyes lingered, taking in the slightly parted toned legs and the way her breasts bounced as she jerked her arms to manipulate the strings.

Her robe slipped off her right shoulder, exposing part of her breast. Creamy and full, it quivered, vibrating as she moved her arms. Her rosy nipple teased me, slipping in and out of the folds of the material. I pictured my mouth there, sucking, my fingers plucking, strumming her like my guitar until she begged me to—

Stop, I told myself. Whoever Violin Girl was, she didn’t deserve me lusting after her while she was pouring her heart out with music.

I zoomed in as far as the binoculars would go, watching her surrender to the music as she bent and swayed from side to side with her eyes closed, black lashes like fans on her cheeks. Every molecule in my body focused on her, hanging on to each note she pulled from her instrument.

She finished and kept her head bowed for the longest time, perhaps letting the emotion wash over her like it had me.

The entire event was surreal, yet poignant as fucking poetry.

I let out a deep breath I didn’t even realize I’d been holding.

Who the hell plays Stairway to Heaven with a violin? She did.

Bam! She snapped her head up, her eyes lasering in on mine, making every hair on my body stand at attention.

And then …

Standing there in the moonlight, she untied her robe and spread apart the sides ever so slightly, her movements seeming almost hesitant, as if she’d had to work herself up. Unfamiliar jealousy hit me and I panned out and checked the rest of the patio, expecting to see a lover. Whoever it was, I wanted to rip him apart piece by piece.

My gaze searched her patio, the backyard, her upstairs balcony. Nothing. No one.

She flicked her dark hair back and stroked the lapels of the robe, her fingers lingering over the lacy material. Suddenly the evening smacked of something more than just music. Her arms moved back and forth across the front, opening the robe halfway and then closing it as if she couldn’t make up her mind.

My eyes went up, trying to read her face. Still as a statue, the only movement was her mouth as it trembled, her full upper lip resting against the pouty lower one.

Violin Girl was trapped in a cage of darkness.

It still didn’t stop me from holding my breath, silently begging her to bare herself to me. She’d already laid bare her music. Part of me needed the rest of her.

She jerked the robe closed, making me groan in disappointment.

And then she did something completely crazy.

The lonely girl next door flipped me the bird.

© Ilsa Madden-Mills 2015 Very Twisted Things

Buy Very Twisted Things on Amazon: http://amzn.to/1AGPMI9

   

  Author Bio   New York Times and USA Today best selling author Ilsa Madden-Mills writes about strong heroines and sexy alpha males that sometimes you just want to slap.   She’s addicted to dystopian and all things fantasy, including unicorns and sword-wielding heroines. Other fascinations include frothy coffee beverages, Instagram, Ian Somerhalder (seriously hot), astronomy (she’s a Gemini), Sephora make-up, and tattoos.   She has a degree in English and a Master’s in Education.   When she’s not pecking away on her computer, she shops for cool magnets, paints old furniture, and eats her weight in sushi.



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***Cover Reveal and Giveaway*** Very Twisted Things (Briarcrest Academy #3) by Ilsa Madden-Mills

VERY TWISTED THINGS

Series: Briarcrest Academy #3 (all novels are standalones)

Author: Ilsa Madden-Mills

Release Date: February 2015

Cover Model: Drew Leighty

Genre: Hot New Adult for 18+

   

A sassy violinist who lives next door. An obsessed rock star who watches her through binoculars. And one night when she bares it all. Life will never be the same in Tinseltown.

Vital Rejects front guy Sebastian Tate never imagined his YouTube music video would go viral, sky-rocketing him to acting success in Hollywood. Okay, maybe he did. After all, he’s a cocky dude who knows he’s hot-as-hell, and it was only a matter of time before his stars aligned.

But life in Tinseltown is never what it seems.

After being cheated on, his only rule to falling in love is simple: Keep Calm and Don’t Do It. Spying on his mysterious new neighbor with binoculars seems innocent enough, but quickly escalates into an erotic game between two very unlikely people.

Twenty-year-old Violet St. Lyons is a world-renowned violinist who's lost her mojo on stage. She hides away in a Hollywood mansion, trying to find her way through her twisted past in order to make her future.

He’s the life of the party with girls chasing him down for his autograph. She’s the introvert with a potty mouth who doesn’t even know who he is.

When they meet, stars collide, sparks fly, and clothes come off. Yet, giving his heart to a girl isn’t Sebastian’s plan; falling for a guy who craves attention isn’t Violet’s.

Welcome to Briarcrest Academy—Hollywood style—where sometimes the best things in life are VERY TWISTED THINGS.

ADD TO GOODREADS:

 

Prologue:

“Then he came along, and like a twisted piece of metal that’s burned beyond recognition, I emerged from the fire. Different. Changed.” –from the journal of Violet St. Lyons

This wasn’t happening.

Clad in a pair of red lacy bikini underwear—his favorite—I sipped on tequila—not my favorite—and glared at Sebastian Tate, sexy rock star and billboard model. Wearing low-slung jeans and nothing else, he paced around my chair in tight circles, his tall frame blocking most of my vision, the lion tattoo on his back heaving as he took deep breaths. Blonde and sporting faint stubble on his chiseled jawline, he looked like the heartbreaker the tabloids said he was.

Bad, bad boy.

But, oh, so good.

He sent me a hard look. Pissed.

From my living room in the Hollywood Hills, I gazed out the window at the Santa Monica Mountains, my eyes everywhere except on the glossy nude photos he clutched in his hand.

Of me. Of him.

Of us.

He swiveled his ice-blue eyes at me. Earlier today they’d burned with another kind of fire, but things change fast in Tinseltown. “These will be in the papers. Get ready,” he said, tossing down the pictures on the table, making me cringe.

I gazed down at them, my eyes lingering over one of us on my patio, him on his knees with his mouth between my legs as my body arched in ecstasy. My skin burned at the memory, echoes of the passion we’d shared—and now everyone in the world would see. My family. The society people in New York. The board of directors for the orphanage. My stomach heaved at the thought, bile threatening to rise up.

Another caught my eye, this one a full color close-up of me crying black mascara tears as I played my violin. Nude. It looked depressing as hell although in truth it had been love that made me emotional.

“Remind me to pass on the make-up next time. And to not have sex outdoors. Obviously,” I said, forcing my shoulders to move in a nonchalant shrug like I didn’t care, but he knew the truth. I was devastated by these.

And so was he.

Because we weren’t supposed to be together.

He said my name in that husky voice of his, the one that made me crazy, the one that made me want to rip his clothes off. “Violet—”

“Stop,” I said, clenching my fists. Because whatever he had to say didn’t matter. These pictures ruined us, ensuring that he’d leave me for her, the beautiful Bubble named Blair. Bubble, bubble, bubble. I wanted to pop her.

Why did I always come last with him?

I stood and faced him, tossing back the last of my shot. “First off, I wish we’d never met.” I held my hand up. “No. Wait. I don’t wish that because then I wouldn’t know Spider or Mila. I—I wish I’d never fallen in love with you. Loving means losing. Always. And I was stupid to forget it. I may have to sell this house and move to another freaking country to get away from you, but I’ll do it. I’ve done it before.” I sucked in a breath. “I’ll be fine without you.”

Lie. I would likely end up drunk on Mexican tequila, nursing what was left of my heart.

He closed his eyes, a dazed expression on his face as if my words crushed him.

“We were doomed from the very start,” I reminded him. “You want to be a star, and all I want is you.”

He stopped his pacing, a muscle jerking in his cheek as he leaned down until his nose was level with mine. “Then this is goodbye, Violet? You’re giving up on us already?”

Did I hear a break in his voice? Impossible.

“If I don’t say goodbye first, then someone else will.” Truth.

He’d never be mine, simply because he didn’t belong with me. I was a washed-up freak who had nothing but a mansion and a Maserati; he belonged on the silver screen with a pretty starlet on his arm.

We were over. Kaput.

I smiled, a bitter thing, and sashayed past him, enjoying the hiss of breath when I let my hand drift over his crotch. “This moment is begging for a soundtrack, don’t you think?” I said, coming to stop by the stereo system and cranking up Kurt Kobain’s Smells Like Teen Spirit. Holding my hands up in the horns rocking out signal, I bobbed my head to the beat while he watched, anger flickering across his face. I danced and twirled around, closing my eyes, the music vibrating through my body, my fingers itching for my violin.

Bam!

My eyes flew open. He’d strode over to me and clicked the stereo off, chest still heaving.

He shoved his hands in my hair and dragged my face to his, and I groaned at the fire that blazed in my body. I felt the warm heat of his skin and pressed closer and inhaled. He smelled like bourbon and sex—a rock star’s diet—and I panted, cursing myself at the same time.

How would I ever get over him?

He pressed his thumbs across my mouth. Gentle. But his voice was cold. “You can’t wait to high-tail it back to Manhattan to your lawyer boyfriend, can you?”

“I plead the fifth,” I said, staring at his full lips. I licked my own. “But you can kiss me goodbye if you want. I don’t mind.”

We stared at each other until he exhaled heavily and put his back to me, his muscles as taut as the guitar strings he played. He verged on breaking.

Yeah, well, welcome to my world.

Yet at the same time, I reached my hand out to him. Stupid hand.

But of course, he didn’t see it.

“So long, V,” he said soft as a whisper, staring at the ground as if I was breaking his heart, when all along it was the other way around. He took a step from me, then another, then another, until finally, he was nothing but a speck.

I clutched my chest and wanted to fall to the ground and rail on it. Alone. Again.

But tough girls like me didn’t cry over black-hearted boys.

Although in his defense, I owed him a thank you for saving me.

To show you, I’d have to start at the beginning, the day I lost everything.

© Ilsa Madden-Mills, NYT and USA Today bestselling author

--Unedited and may change before publication

Available Now on Amazon Very Bad Things Very Wicked Beginnings Very Wicked Things

Author Bio New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Ilsa Madden-Mills writes about strong heroines and sexy alpha males that sometimes you just want to slap.   She spends her days with two small kids, one neurotic cat, and one husband. She collects magnets and rarely cooks except to bake her own pretzels.   When she's not crafting a story, you can find her drinking too much Diet Coke, jamming out to Pink, or checking on her carefully maintained chocolate stash.   She loves to hear from readers and fellow authors.

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  VERY TWISTED GIVEAWAY 

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***Cover Reveal*** Saving Abel (Rocker Series: Book 1) by Gina Whitney

Title: Saving Abel (Rocker Series: One)

Author: Gina Whitney

Genre: Erotica BDSM

Reveal Host: Lady Amber's Tours

Blurb: Abel Gunner, the lead singer of the band Lethal Abel, is what beautiful nightmares are made of. His gritty, melodic rasp threatens to rip your heart out of your chest and leave you gasping for the very breath he robbed you of. His kisses, detonating on impact, leave you ruined. Abel is also a Dom, and his appetite for seduction is legendary and intense. After a chance encounter with Gia, his need to dominate this woman increases tenfold. He wants to consume her, merge with her, and never leave her body. Abel's emerald eyes touch the deepest part of Gia's soul in a way that terrifies her. She fears he can see her secret. Lies, guilt, and betrayal lay beneath her skin, and she's terrified of being exposed. How will Gia ever begin to explain? She doesn't believe she's worthy of him, and her greatest fear is that her carefully guarded heart will be shattered. However, she finds herself unable to deny this rogue tattooed rocker whose kisses just might ruin her.

Author Bio: Gina Whitney grew up reading Judy Blume, and Nancy Drew books. She was raised in the town of North Valley Stream, New York(Long Island)and attended community college for fashion design. At 19 she opened a boutique. She recently published her first paranormal romance novel Blood Ties. When she's not writing, she's hanging with family and friends. She shares a home with her wonderful son’s PJ and Drew, and their 200lb Mastiff Hercules. She currently lives in Massapequa, New York. Reading has always been a passion and obsession. You can usually find her typing furiously while shouting obscenities over her latest work. She also enjoys a good laugh, being snarky, espresso, and above all steamy swooning angst filled novels. She's pathologically obsessed with True Blood(Eric ;), Games of Thrones, Borgias, Vampire Diaries and Originals. You can also find her chatting it up with readers on Facebook.

Links:

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7093718.Gina_Whitney

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/ginawhitneyauthor

Twitter: https://twitter.com/ginamwhitney

Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Gina-Whitney/e/B00DWDU1KG/ref=ntt_athr_dp_pel_1 Blog: http://authorginawhitney.blogspot.com/

                                                              

                                                                Prologue    

                                                               The night

On ecru initialed paper the understanding was brutally clear…You’re to be blindfolded and waiting on your knees for your master. I reread a couple of times, my hands shaking with both fear of the unknown and excited to be delivered to brink of aching pleasure. Man, I was fucked! Folding the note in half, perfectly seaming the edges thoughtfully, musings of biting off more than I can chew swirled cyclonically…causing fluttering in my stomach to mount to upchuck levels. Picking up the Hermes silk scarf, I gentled it along my cheek before breathing in his alpha scent. Him. My eyes closed on their own accord…heart beating in concert with my pussy.  My clit charged and was primed already with my sweet ambrosia. The inner demonness scratching the surface of my psyche, relentlessly thrashing against confinement. Twirling around in a sexual dream-state, my eyes took in floor to ceiling windows—lush drapes pulled back. Gasping heavily… hand on my heart trying to keep the fucker in there. Was he planning to take me in the open—voyeur delight?  I wasn’t sure how I felt about that. Then again this was about surrendering. A place my control had no say in. On the left was a free standing bar. His guitar leaning against it.  Crystal decanters lined the top. Amber colored courage called to my parched throat. Begging, needing something to quell the tremors that plagued my body. I couldn’t. Could I?  Or was that breaking the rules? I couldn’t afford to piss him off nor did I want to. I wanted to please him. Hand over the keys to my soul for him to take up occupancy. I needed to take purchase of the prime piece of real-estate—his heart. Old demons plagued my thoughts with their clever mind tricks. Fighting their way to the surface—sneering that I would lose the man I’d come to love because of my deceitful heart. The mother of all motherfucking Karmas was going to bite my ass—hard. I needed to lock these incessant nauseating thoughts where they belonged…behind a door that had no moral key and slam it shut.

Looking to my left, a fire raged stunningly in a pastoral styled fireplace. Crackling embers radiated warmth to nurture my body. Perfect spot! Unbuttoning my pants and blouse letting them both pool at my feet…my bra and panties followed. The heat of the flames licked my skin helping gentle the goose bumps that stepped forward across my body. Double-knotting the scarf, I lowered to my knees, thankful for plush carpet. I sent a silent bid of gratitude upwards. God had no place here today. On this day, I would be rejoicing, reveling and partaking in rituals practiced by heathens. Tempering my breathing, I repeated Namaste over and over until a shiver redirected my attention to the door. Searching my mind to identify its source, the squeak of the door knob stopped all thought process—and thinking.  His innate maleness seeped into my pores, cocooning my skin in his alpha scent—marking my heart as his. Instantly, my body recognized him. An unwilling groan escaped, making my nether region clench in anticipation. He chuckled.

                                                                        ~~~

"Very good. I see you followed my directions flawlessly. I see that beautiful pussy’s shaved bare for me. This pleases me Gia. And you will see how much very shortly. But, are you ready for your Master?  If I part your folds will you be slick and hot for me?"

His warm breath tickled my ear. My mouth opened and closed a few times like a fish out of water, until I finally croaked out, (no paragraph)"Um, yes. I um. I believe so, Abel.”  Christ why am I reduced to a stuttering adolescent? He's fucking dangerous and hot that's why! Stealing myself, I needed to women the fuck up and show him who I am. Palming my chin out, he spoke gruffly.

“Love, when we’re in this setting I am your God…bringer of pleasure and pain.” He released me, clearly awaiting a response of praise.

“Yes Sir. I understand perfectly.” I affirmed. My body chilled knowing the moment he stepped away. The ring of the crystal decanter signaled loudly in the air. Rolling shutters had me clenching—hard. Moments ticked by at a snail’s pace and I wanted to rip my hair out. Frustration built as he took his time leaving me in a vulnerable position. He swallowed his drink before padding back over in my direction and bringing that delicious signature scent of his - musk and something wild I couldn’t put my finger on.

“I’m going to taste you now.” He quantified.

What? Christ on a motherfuckin cross. Two thick fingers teased my clit round and round, spreading my silky juices along my seam and preparing for his invasion. I held my breath. What else could I do?

“You smell like you want to be fucked.” He smiled appreciatively.” Breathe Gia. Your God would like to sample you. I want to commit your taste to memory. Savor you on my tongue. Swallow your goodness.” He rasped leaning into my ear.

I wanted to scream just do it already! His beard scruffed against my face…leaving his mouth against my ear. Every breath. Every heartbeat. Every swallow. Was mine hear. I had a front row seat to an erotic movie that I starred in. Holding my shoulder firmly with his left hand, he roughly entered my opening. One breath in. One long breath out.  Fingering me with precision…two fingers in me and his thumb on my trigger. I ground against his palm.

“You will not come. Yet. Stay still or I’ll stop.” He stated sternly. .  

Well that did it! I needed release and I needed it now. Fuck. Squeezing my eyes tightly, I was thankful for the blind-fold. He had to see how challenging this was for me. With a final stretching thrust he vacated my pussy. The heady juice permeated the air…releasing another gush of wetness. His sucking sound ended with a loud pop, followed by a growl of approval.

“Taste.” He fisted my hair driving his fingers into my open mouth.

“Taste how sweet your pussy is?” He queried.

I had the perfect opportunity to bring him to his knees. My tongue languidly snaked its way around his fingers, sucking greedily any remaining ambrosia—with my own kickass resounding pop. Umm…purring my contentment.  

A seismic roar rumbled its way free from his alpha chest. Oh, he was affected. Breaking dominant control momentarily—he lunged forward. Fisting my hair, his tongue forced my mouth open. Damn this Dom. My lungs fought for air as my hands braced against his muscled chest…alive with the vibrations from the beast tethered within—Abel. Dizziness threatening to take me under. Pulling air into my nose I took a breath. He didn’t let up. Apparently, my survival was to be damned while he consumed me from the inside out. My brain had only registered oxygen. Now I needed to return his kiss. My hands found their way up his neck into his thick hair. Fist full of hair…I pulled. He answered my call with his masterful tongue and gnashing teeth. Needing his cock in my pussy now, I reached for it, feeling its thick steeliness through his jeans. He gently removed my hands. Disappointed, I lowered my head but took the opportunity to nourish my blood with oxygen. He forced my hands behind my back. I sat on the back of my knees to steady myself.

“You have to earn that, Babe. You haven’t earned my cock yet. And he has a bigger ego than I do.” He laughed low and deep as he stood, leaving me again.

Was he serious? His dick had an ego?

Shuffling of drawers opening and closing to my left had me turning my head in that direction. My legs tingled with anticipation and lack of activity. I hoped I wasn’t going to be on my knees too much longer. The loud snap of something caught my immediate attention causing me to lick my dry lips and swallow the golf ball sized knot as I readied myself. Sweet smelling leather assailed my senses.

“Do you know what the Cat of nine tails is, Gia?” He asked.

Thanks to Google, my ignorance for basic BDSM wouldn’t be apparent. I schooled my quickly

in the tricks of the trade like knots, whips, and positions 101.

“Yes Sir. A traditionally favored whip with nine separate tails.” I rejoined, quirking a smile. I awaited his answer which came in the form of him running the tails along my breasts…down to my pussy… and snapping my clit to attention. Over and over again my body became acquainted with this new form of torture. With legs shaking, I thrust myself off of them into an upright position, hoping this little exercise would stop this embarrassing bodily display of minor earthquakes. No such luck. My body wanted to surrender to its Master as my wreathing ratcheted to panic-attack levels. An explosion of epic proportions was near tilt. Whack…the leather sliced across my behind. Ow…fuck me!

“Not nearly yet sweetheart. That nice shade of red on your ass is making me hard as fuck though.” He countered.

Well that’s not how I really meant it, but that’s exactly what I wanted right the fuck now. He was turned on. And that turned me on. If his lash marks on my skin do it for him—then so be it.

“I want to taste you, Master. It’s only fair.” I practically whined. Throw me a fucking bone. This BDSM shit was killing me. I’m not a patient person by nature, so, I deserved a reward for the restraint I’ve been practicing today. The sound of his zipper lowering had my full attention. The lava started to trickle down my legs again.

“Is this what you want pretty girl?” He stepped up smearing his pre-cum on my lips.

I moaned embarrassingly loud.  “Yes! More!” I demanded. He presented his cock to my tongue this time. My tongue stroked something unfamiliar. Was it a piercing? Bracing myself on his thick thighs, I fished for the object. Yep, he was pierced. Fuck me.

Expertly I lavished it with my tongue paying homage to this rock God. Maybe his cock deserved its own zip code? This was a local I wanted to move to…like now. Pushing forward I sought his engorged bell. Licking, flickering and tonguing at break-neck speed to the best of my ability. He roared. He ripped the scarf freeing my eyes from their prison. Site was returned. Though, I couldn’t see a fucking thing. Squinting I looked up towards his beautiful face. His face twisted in agony. He needed release. Eyes sparking with warning. His thread-like hold on reality virtually nonexistent. A sardonic smile pulled to his lips as he continued stroking his cock. Up. Down. Up. Twist. Down. Release. Up. Twist. Down. Release. His left hand squeezed his tightened sack roughly. Eyes glistening. His tongue snaked out to wet his plump lips. Sooty lashed eyes closed for a moment and he blew out a long breath…battling for control. I gulped—hard. Something sparkly caught my upturned eyes bringing my gaze back to his sack.

“Like what you see, Babe?” He smiled proudly. His stance was powerful and mighty.

It was then I noticed his tatted dick. Whoa. I didn’t have the time to even comprehend what art graced his gorgeous cock. I’ll come back to that. I was visually over-stimulated. Tilting my head awkwardly left then right. What even was that? I wasn’t naive. I knew there were guys who pierced the head of their dick. Shit. One was right in front of me. But, all along the underside of his cock? Can’t say I ever saw that or even heard of that before.

“It’s called frenum loops, Babe. The one through my head is an Apadravya. You’ll be thanking me soon for it.” His toothy smile made me blush at my naiveté. He took my lip-licking as a signal for further teachings of How to suck Abel’s cock 101.

“Relax. Open real wide. Get it nice and wet.” He instructed.

Relaxing my gag reflex, I readied my throat for his invasion. Not only did I have to worry about his girth, but his hardware as well. My mouth was desert dry. I pursed my  lips to conjure up enough saliva to get the job done. The wide tip of his cock made its way past my lips, wetting a groan from me of appreciation for this male. Lavishing the small beads of pre-come on my tongue…relishing his heady taste. God damn. His hooded eyes caught mine as I acquiesced. I closed my eyes and sucked his head hard with a quick swirl around his Apadravya. I spit into my palm pumping his cock once. Twice. A throaty groan made my clit swell. I loved his male sounds. I knew I was doing this right. I wanted more. More of him. More of that noise. Widening my mouth even further I took his cock deeply. Paying close attention to his frenulum loops,  I concentrated on them with my tongue. The jingling within my mouth had me shuttering. Up. Down. Twist. Suck. Tongue. Up. Down. Twist. Suck. Gag. Up. Down. Twist. Suck. Gag. His fingers found their home…deeply embedded in my scalp, the pain causing my eyes to mist. Licking from base to tip, I was on repeat. His eyes watched me intently. Appreciatively.

Though, I didn’t always see him watching me, I knew he was. One final swirling suck later,  I let my lips pop loudly. Jerking sounds of wetness aloud. I tried the impossible. To swallow him. Breathing through my nose, I watched. He watched. I swallowed. The thickness of his cock swelling was all the indication I needed. He was ready to blow—hard. My throat relaxed and opened to accommodate his girth further. Abel hissed his thankfulness by thrusting deeply. Once. Twice. Three times. He growled loudly face fucking me into oblivion. Surprising even myself…I swallowed his gift of spicy goodness humming my appreciation to this deity. Swallowing it down and suck-tonguing his Apadravya. I inwardly smiled, milking every last drop of his elixir.                                                                

With a final groan, I fell back and let the fibers of the rug absorb my fatigue. Mentally and physically I was wiped out. I rubbed my fingers through the filaments trying to desperately sooth my restless soul. At that moment, I didn’t care where he was or what he was doing. His gentle fingers caressed my cheek. I closed my eyes savoring his warm touch.

“Oh, Babe we’re not done. Come, I’ll carry you to my bedroom.” He bent and scooped me up. Swaddled in his arms, his hooded eyes caught mine. A few long strides and we were in his bedroom where he gently laid me on his king-sized bed and stepped back.

“I’m gonna take a quick shower. Join me?” He motioned with his hand to the bathroom in not so subtle invitation.

“Nah, I’m good here for now. You go. If I change my mind I’ll find you.” She watched him carefully not sure how he would react to denying him.

His eyes darkened as if he had never been denied before. He nodded and left through the en-suite. Raising myself up to my forearms I took in his room. So this is his room here. Monochromatic black and white made up a majority of his palate choice aside from his poppy red silk shantung comforter. Everything was simple…yet elegant. It was clear to me that Abel sought home comforts and swathed the hotel room with his possessions. I guess a life on the road was a lonely one. Cocooning myself in the lush bedding. There was no better place. And his scent. Lord above if I could bottle his essence I’d be a wealthy chick.  Grabbing his pillow I brought it to my nose inhaling his heady alpha scent. A groan escaped and my clit was beyond engorged—needing release. I needed to steal this pillow.

“Enjoying yourself?” His voice caught me off guard.  I cursed inwardly when I saw his smile reach his eyes. Busted. He abruptly reached for my legs and pulled me across the bed. Holy shit. His eyes alit with mischief as he pulled until my bottom was at the end of the bed. Lying there naked, I started to feel self-conscience so I turned to grab the edge of the comforter.

“Don’t hide your body from me, Gia. Spread your legs for me. I want to see what’s mine. I want to taste your nectar.” He commands. And I obey my spreading my legs. When he doesn’t respond, I get anxious. There’s a mirror on the wall next to the bed and I can see my reflection. What a turn on. Me watching him—us. His eyes visually devouring my pussy. He removes his towel from his waist and turns to see me watching tentatively through the mirror. He grabbed hold of his thick cock, stroking, smiling and watched me for a good long ass minute. This is one big mind fuck and I’m barely holding my own. My blood boiled watching his erotic exhibition. Boy was he a showman. He knelt down and seizing both thighs pulling them back into a V across my chest. The image of us in the mirror is suggestive. He pressed his nose along my pussy—inhaling deeply.

“You’ve got such a pretty pussy, Gia. I’m a man starved for this pussy. When I’m done, I’m going to fuck you like the devil. My cock will be everything you’ve wished for, Babe.” He winked.

Cocky motherfucker. Holding my legs in place he dives face first into my pussy pushing his tongue deep into me…growling…devouring. The sounds of him sucking, licking and nipping my pussy had my muscles locking up. I reached for his hair. I needed to touch him. I wanted to hold his head to my pussy until I was good and ready to let go.

“, Put your damn hands above your head or I will tie you to the bed.” He growled.

I acquiesced. I would fucking die or kill someone if he stopped. Oh, God, don’t stop.

“God has no place here, Babe.” His voice was demonic.

Did I just say that aloud? Never lifting his face from his meal. He pushed my knees almost flush to my chest lathering his face in my juice. Oh, God. Growling, biting and sucking were sounds I would never forget. He was feral. Possessed. Using two fingers, his index finger fucking me as he sucked my clit. My legs shaking with deep vibrations, I started to rock my hips. Twisting the comforter in my hands, I began to scream for my release. He didn’t stop. I barely registered the rumbling from his chest as I floated back down to earth. My eyes now opening to a savage beast. He leaned over to bite my inner thing. I yelped in surprise. He stood tall and proud stroking his long thick massive cock. His face still glistening with my cum Nothing registered to this alpha. He had one thing on his mind and that was sinking his gorgeous cock into my soaked pussy.

“You want this cock now, Babe? He spoke through gritted teeth.  Still stroking his cock he spit in his hand. Fucking hell.

“Please, Abel. I want you now.” I begged. I needed him now.

“Need to hear you say it, Babe. Tell me you want me to sink my cock deep into you.” He whispered, his voice barely audible.

The grit in his voice had me wanting to grab his dick and fuck myself with it. He was watching me closely, his control threadbare.

“Abel, fuck me with that big gorgeous cock of yours. Grind that piercing over my clit.” I hissed. That did it! He couldn’t wait another minute—neither could I. He teased the entrance with the head of his cock agonizingly slow, paying special attention to my clit with his Apadravya. Back and forth. Round and round. The pressure mounted. I couldn’t stand another second of the exquisite torture. I leaned forward and grabbed his cock—hard.

“Stop fucking with me and take me already.” I hissed out my plea. He answered by feeding me his cock one motherfucking inch at a time.

“I have to loosen you up a bit. I can’t go balls deep yet. Let me work myself in there. Love my girl greedy for my cock. Have me harder than fucking stone.” He spoke growled breathlessly. Leaning over me his eyes hooded he fed me his delicious scorching cock. He leaned down over my face, arms at either side of my head. His warm breath humming in my ear. His hand reached down to stroke my clit.

“Come on, Babe. Open for me.” He rumbled. Thrusting a bit harder and quicker I felt my body opening up for this mythical creature. My eyes closed tightly and I tried to wrap my legs around his waist to lock him into place.

“Not yet, Babe. I haven’t worked in my rings yet. I’ll tell you when you need to hang on.” He nipped my ear.

I sighed. Fuck, I thought he was all the way in. Christ, I’m not built for this kind of torment. I reached down to his butt cheeks and clamped down with my hands…pulling him deeper to me. He corkscrewed his ass over and over. I screamed my pleasure.

“That’s it, Mama. Scream for me. You’ll be doing a lot more of that.” He proclaimed.

Biting my lip to stay present and not float away…I took a mental screenshot of this moment. I felt so full. My walls stretched to accommodate his girth. Each thrust he sank deeper. And I fell a little harder. Yeah I was fucked. Literally. The sound of my blood pumping through my veins roared in my ears. I couldn’t tell if it was my breaths or his. It was a hodgepodge of ecstasy. He reached his hand over pinning them above my head.

“Arch your back for me, Babe, and spread those pretty legs nice and wide. I’m going to own this pussy right the fuck now.” He gritted out. I did as he asked completely submitting. After all this was what he asked for. Complete and utter submission.

“That’s it, Babe. Offer me that sweet cunt.” He whispered. How did he make my least favorite word sound like a fucking sonnet? I felt so incredible—so alive. Our bodies in tune with one another. Rutting rhythmically in a crescendo of lust. His frenulum rings hitting spots I’ve never sensed before. He manipulated my body with expert precision. I regarded his handsome face relishing beautiful man on top of me. His eyes bore into me with stealth precision. Looking directly into my soul. He smiled wickedly kissing me deeply. Arrogant prick. Yeah, he knew he was the best ride in town. Fuck me. Grinding my heels into the mattress to get better leverage I met him thrust for thrust. He moved his fingers from my clit. His other hand still pinning my arms above my head and pushed my right thigh up from under my knee. Hitting a whole new angle I lost it. Screaming his name…my pussy clenched and squeezed his cock. Jack hammering me a few good thrusts I felt his head swell further. He released my hands rushing to his knees. After a few long strokes of his dick, his hot thick ropes painted my tits and stomach with his come. Yeah, he was an artist all right. His eyes were closed—mouth parted. His breathing hurried—body still. He looked like a fucking God—absolutely stunning. I will never get this image out of my head.

He opened his eyes finally…to see his handiwork. Abel watched me closely. I smiled in post coital bliss. Blissed the fuck out. He leaned over and on top of me kissing me with his full lips, coaxing my mouth open with his talented wicked tongue. Not caring about the fact that his come was smeared all over is body. Most men would mind. But, he wasn’t most men.  I accepted with a moan. He kissed me for a long while until sleep drew me under. I slept without dreams…just a piece of colorful pastel swirls. If I had any conscience thought it felt much akin to Alice and the rabbit hole. My body enveloped in his scent marking me right down to the bone. I would forever be his…whether he knew it or not. His to control. His to do with as he wished. His to consume…eating away at my very soul. I was in that deep. My veins ran with his essence—fuelling nourishment my body craved. His melodic gritty voice carried me to the surface of conciseness. It was faint, but spoke to my heart—awakening me. I opened my eyes…seeking him out. He was singing an acapella version of…? What song was that? I knew it wasn’t one of Lethal Abel’s. I listened keenly…searching for any frame of reference. Oh, I knew now!  It was his version of Katy Perry’s Dark Horse. His version had an edge to it. Nonetheless, it was beautiful.  And more importantly it was quintessential Abel. He mastered everything he did. It was on his terms.

Make me your cubid

Make me your one and only

But don’t make me your enemy, your enemy, your enemy

So you wanna play with magic

Girl, you should know what you’re falling for

Baby, do you dare to do this?

Cause I’m coming at you like a dark horse

Are you ready for a perfect storm, a perfect storm?

Cause once you’re mine, there’s no going back…

Oh, God. His version of reality was quickly becoming mine. I laid back down and let his voice pull me back under again…swathing me in his gravely tones—carrying me to him.

***Cover Reveal and Giveaway*** Against All Odds by Angie McKeon

Title: Against All Odds (Standalone)

Author: Angie McKeon

Genre: Adult Contemporary Romance

Release Date: Early April, 2014

BLURB:

Our lives shattered... Our hearts broken... Our souls torn to pieces...

He was my world, my whole life. My reason for breathing. I had a perfect marriage, a baby on the way, and I felt fulfilled—almost invincible. 

Until the day life hit, leaving me broken, vulnerable, and alone.

She was my life. My ray of hope on the cloudiest day. With her, I thought I had the ultimate safety. A love that would never hurt or betray me. I gave her my heart, my body, and my soul. 

Until she broke me, destroying every dream and illusion I had about life, love, and marriage.

In our grief, we made a mistake. A mistake I'm not sure we can come back from.

PROLOGUE

I’m so cold. It’s the kind of cold that seeps into my bones and makes me feel as though I’m going to die. My body trembles from the drugs and sheer terror coursing through my veins.

Why is this happening to me?

What did I do to deserve this?

Please, God! I can’t handle it.

I open my mouth to scream, to cry, to do something, but nothing comes out. I’m aware of doctors and nurses surrounding me. They’ve placed Kayla on my chest. She’s still warm from being pulled from my body, but she's not moving.

She’s lying there . . . lifeless.

I’m in a state of disbelief as tears slide down my face. My world shatters when I look at my precious baby girl. She's everything I’ve always wanted, always dreamed of.

Slowly, I run my fingers over her delicate lips; they’re so soft and small. An instant reminder of Cooper’s lips. He doesn’t have full and luscious lips like mine but small ones that almost disappear when he smiles. As I run the tips of my fingers across her puffy cheeks and closed eyes, I try to memorize every last detail of her dainty face. She’s so beautiful it takes my breath away. Her hair reminds me of caramel; it’s light brown and silky to the touch. It looks like mine did when I was a baby. Her face is peaceful, and for a single moment, I’m so thankful she’s not in pain.

Looking at my little girl is a moment I’ve always dreamed of. I love her instantly, and I want to hold her forever. To breathe her into me. To never let her go. The realization that I’ll never hold my precious baby again sinks in, andI feel my stomach clench as pain rips through me. I’ll never get to see her smile, laugh, roll over, or take her first steps. I’ll miss it all.

How do I move past this?

Can I move past this?

As grief consumes me, my sobs become brutal. I feel as though I’m dying. Like my heart is burning up and turning to ash. I’ll never ever be whole again.

I pick her up and cradle her against my body, wanting to feel her skin against mine. She feels warm—soft and smooth, like velvet. As I curl my arms around her, my tears drip onto her perfect head. I feel an overwhelming urge to fix this, to bring her back. I don’t want to lose my sweet baby. Everything in my body, my soul is screaming to bring her back.

Desperately looking up at Cooper’s green eyes, I will him to fix this, to make it better and help me. Help her. He’s always been my rock, my glue, the person who makes everything better. But all I see in his eyes is sadness, desperation, and helplessness that I know is killing him as much as it is me. He rubs his big, shaking hand gently over her tiny head. He looks as though he’s being tortured. Sobs rip through his body as he wraps his arms around me and our precious bundle while climbing into bed with us. I feel myself collapse against his chest as we sob over our loss.

There’s nothing we can do.

This is the end of a shattered dream.

Our spirits are slowly dying, and I’m not sure we’ll ever be able to heal.

AUTHOR INFO:

A multi-tasker from birth—and now proudly able to add 'writer' to my resume—I'm a mother, wife and blogger. I love to read, write and drink copious amounts of iced coffee.

All three aforementioned addictions are detrimental to my sanity

I have a voracious appetite for dark, painful and twisted reads. I'm enamored with the concept of love and heart break. I believe life is a journey, a tale in its own for each of us. The road to happiness is sometimes paved with stones from hell, or glitters of satisfaction graced from the heavens above.

In my upcoming debut novel, 'Against All Odds,' I strive to make you feel. I believe any emotion—whether painful or happy—is good. To me, the key to living is to go through life feeling it’s ups and downs. Love is dark and it can be painful but, at the end of the day, it can save the most lost of souls and the most broken of hearts.

AUTHOR LINKS:

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/angiemckeonauthor

Twitter: https://twitter.com/Angie_McKeon

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7389718.Angie_McKeon

Website: http://angiemckeon.blogspot.com/

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