First Time (Elite Escorts #3) by Lynn Burke

Congratulations to Lynn Burke on your new release!


 
 

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*Warning: physical and verbal abuse triggers, bondage

Daniel Cooney loves to tie women up and is nicely compensated for his services as an Elite escort. He’s no sadist, however, but a gentle dominant who longs for a woman of his own, one who won’t be intimidated by his size and ropes.

Becky Eaton bends over backwards to help her boyfriend work through his mental problems, but her submissive nature enables his sick desires to turn vicious. His plans to exploit her for his pleasure backfires … Becky experiences desire—and a climax—for the first time beneath another man’s command. Master Cooney’s tender touch awakens her in ways she never expected.

Beaten and broken, Becky’s tattered heart yearns for what could be, and while Daniel’s strength proves a pillar of support, she must find the courage within to escape a murderous monster—before it’s too late.

 
 

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Purchase links:

Evernight / Amazon / Amazon UK / Bookstrand / Barnes & Noble / Smashwords

 
 
 

Excerpt:

*Warning: Verbal and emotional abuse triggers

I entered the lounge to find the dimmed area already packed. Every stool at the bar along the right was taken, and the groupings of chairs and couches scattered around the room held parties in full-on fun mode.

Naked flesh. Blowjobs. The sounds of asses being tanned—and fucked—filtered through the soft music drifting down from overhead.

One new couple caught my attention. Arrogance oozed from the wiry Dom as he stared at a woman getting her ass handed to her. His unimpressive hard-on ridged the front of his leather pants. A single rose tattoo inked his arm.

The voluptuous, dark-haired woman on the leash behind him … wide hips, thick thighs that would be gorgeous wrapped in rope, huge bare breasts with large, soft nipples.

Not an exhibitionist or voyeur…  

She didn’t follow her Sir meekly as he walked around. She cowered behind him.

An insecure and co-dependent, with a Dom who took advantage of her quiet nature, my gut told me, sending a tingle of anger down my spine. I stepped off to the side and watched as he led her around the room. They drew near, and I forced myself to keep my gaze on her rather than the prick leading her around like a dog.

“How about this?” the wiry man chuckled, drawing her forward to the ménage scene on the couch to my left. “Double penetration. Two cocks shoved so far up your dry cunt you can’t remember your name?” He laughed again, and the woman trembled, her hands sneaking down to cover the thatch of black hair hiding her pussy.

My fist itched to break Wiry’s nose, the first hint of violence I’d felt in years.

“Well?” Wiry asked, yanking on her lead rope when she didn’t answer. “Does this turn that frigid, fat body of yours on?”

“N-no, Sir.”

“Goddamnit, Becky.” Wiry strode off, pulling her behind him. “The fuck is wrong with you?”

Tearing my gaze off her swaying, lush ass, I swore. Striding across the lounge didn’t lessen my anger, and I continued on with my cussing through the guarded door leading to the private rooms and down the carpeted hall. I wasn’t prone to violence, but if those two were taking the bondage class, I was in deep shit.

“Not my monkey, not my circus,” I muttered while pushing open the door to the private room Chantelle had set up for classes. “Don’t get involved.”

Adrenaline laced my bloodstream, but my hands held steady while rifling through the supplies of silk and hemp rope that had been laid out. A few basic knots, I thought, trying to focus on the task ahead of me. I pulled a chair onto the stage, positioning it on a side angle from where my small audience would sit.

Ask for a volunteer, Chantelle had said. I snorted. I highly doubted I’d get away without having to talk someone into sitting on the chair while their spouse or partner watched.

“Hopefully, one of the new Doms won’t mind sharing for an hour,” I muttered to myself.

Or, my conscious whispered, maybe Wiry and Becky will be in the class, and you can ask her to join you on stage. Show her what a real Dom is like.

I shook my head.

Not. Getting. Involved.

 

Other Books in the Elite Escorts Series:

Third Wheel and Second Go-Round

 

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About Lynn Burke:

Lynn Burke is a full time mother, voracious gardener, and scribbler of spicy romance stories. A country bumpkin turned Bay Stater, she enjoys her chowdah and Dunkin Donuts when not trying to escape the reality of city life.

Website: https://www.authorlynnburke.com/

Blog: http://authorlynnburke.blogspot.com/

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/Author-Lynn-Burke-555282497937461/

Twitter: https://twitter.com/AuthorLynnBurke

 

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Ice fucking cold #SexySnippet from A Thorned Rose in the Sand

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Happy Sunday! Sexy Snippets are seven sentences taken from a work in progress or published book, brought to you every Sunday.

Today, I give you a sexy snippet from my WIP, the erotic contemporary romance A Thorned Rose in the Sand. To place you in the context, Ragab has taken Stevie to a well in the middle of nowhere so she can wash. She can do with a bucket, of course, but the problem is lack of privacy…

* * *

Ragab came with the bucket and placed it by her jacket on the ground.

“Thanks,” she said. “Now, look away.”

Without a word, he went to her motorcycle and studied it, keeping his back to her.

She turned away to take off the leather pants, her sticky socks, the sweat-soaked top, and her panties, and knelt on the jacket. The sun torched her naked skin, but she smelled something like rotten eggs and had to wash.

Quick, now.

She dipped her hands in the bucket and oh! pulled them out again, splashing water to the sides. I-c-e f-u-c-k-i-n-g c-o-l-d. How was that possible in the Sahara, the hottest desert in the world?

She glanced behind to check if Ragab had noticed her reaction.

He still stood by the bike, head tilted in deep scrutiny.

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After his studies in London, Ragab has returned to the nomadic lifestyle of his Bedouin family and the majestic silence of the Sahara. His days are spent herding camels and dreaming of the perfect wife, until a beautiful and extraordinarily feisty bike driver stuck in a sand dune turns his quiet world upside down.

When the rat-race of life in a big U.S. city becomes too much, Stevie Jones decides to change track and live her wildest dream – compete against the tough guys in a thrilling motorcycle rally across Morocco. But to her surprise, the real excitement is to be found away from the race track, in the shifting sands of the desert…

*

Catch the other #SexySnippets here!

*

Disclaimer: I’ve borrowed the photo to illustrate the snippet. 

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Beautiful under the dirt #MWTease from A Thorned Rose in the Sand

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Happy Wednesday, and thanks again to Angelica Dawson for organizing the MidWeekTeases!

This week’s tease comes from my current WIP, the erotic romance A Thorned Rose in the Sand. To place you in the context, rally racer Stevie has helped transport Ragab’s little brother to a clinic, and everyone at the Bedouin camp is awaiting news.

  

Three hours had passed. The sun had reached its peak and pounded without mercy.

Ragab sat in the shade of the family tent twining his fingers. He’d chewed his nails so short, they stung as if he’d inserted needles underneath. Ali’s acute medical condition drove him mad with worry, and not being able to do anything to help made him feel ten times worse. Not to mention having put Ali’s fate in the hands of a reckless motorcycle driver. How imprudent! What if something happened to them? He’d rather die than live with the guilt.

He needed to keep his angst to himself, though, for in his father’s absence, he was in charge of the family and had to keep everyone calm. Every time Mother and his sisters looked at him with prayers in their eyes, he assured them Ali would be fine, and resisted following their tense glances out of the tent, to the track where the motorcycle had disappeared.

Three hours. A lifetime.

“Ragab,” Mother said, her face puffy and furrowed beneath the black tob ’ob wrapped around the top of her head. She clutched her two young daughters to her bosom, and they slid their arms around her.

“Yes?”

She opened her mouth, but out came no sound. Instead, big tears filled her charcoal-lined eyes and rolled down her sunburnt cheeks.

No need to explain. Of the ten children she’d carried, she’d lost four to disease, and three other grown ones had left to live in the modern world. Only Ragab had returned.

“Oum,” he said, voice gentle. Mother.

“La.” She shook her head, teary gaze pleading. No. Her pain wouldn’t go away.

His chest squeezed. “He’s in good hands,” he insisted, but wasn’t sure he believed it himself. He knew everything about appendicitis. Its different stages, where to cut to remove the infected piece, what kind of antibiotics to give, and the risks if one intervened too late. And this wasn’t just any patient—this was Ali, a funny and active little boy adored by his family.

A motor grumbled in the distance.

The girls squealed, and everyone got up and ran out of the tent. Ragab’s heart galloped in his chest.

In a large cloud of dust, the girl’s motorcycle appeared on the track, driving at full speed.

He gasped. Hadn’t he told her to be careful?

Slow down, you fool, before you get someone killed!

But…the seat behind her was vacant? Father and Ali stayed at the clinic? Did that mean bad news? The blood drained from his buzzing head.

Neighbors sprang out of their tents and flocked around Ragab’s family. The sickness of one tribe member, especially a child, concerned the whole tribe.

Seconds later, the motorcycle came to a full stop a few meters from them, tires screeching and swirling up dust.

Ragab hurried over to the girl and turned his hands up. “So?”

She switched off the power so that precious silence descended upon the site…but didn’t say anything, just sat there doing nothing.

Oh, how he hated her for drawing it out. Didn’t she realize the importance of the news? “Tell me!” he barked. “What did the surgeon say?”

Sending him a sharp glance, she took off her helmet and hung it on a side mirror. “Give me a minute to breathe, will ya? I just did sixty fucking kilometers on the roughest terrain ever.”

Her cursing pushed his buttons. He growled, “You’re one of the most arrogant and impolite persons I’ve met!”

“Oh?” She climbed off the motorcycle and got right in his face, breaths quick against his mouth. “And you are one of the most ungrateful assholes I’ve met.” She stabbed a finger into his chest. “But you were correct, doc. It’s an appendicitis, just not inflamed yet.”

He blinked, processing the information while staring into her gleaming emeralds. She stood so close, freckles he hadn’t seen before were visible on her nose and cheeks, under the dirty sweat.

It hit him like a slap: she was beautiful, spectacular. One of a kind.

She lowered her voice, but remained in his space. “He needs to stay under surveillance, though.”

Swallowing, he backed away from her to recoup—try to recover from the angst that had messed with his mind and the sensual shock the girl gave him. So much at once.

She said, “Your father wants you to pick them up in a couple of days.”

“All right, will do.” With a nod and a deep breath, he turned to tell the good news to everyone else.

The crowd broke into happy dancing and cheering. Mother’s face lit up in a white-toothed smile, and she hugged her daughters close.

In moments like these, Ragab wished he were religious. He needed something or someone to give thanks to.

Well, her, the fiery red-head, maybe.

Copyright @ 2018 Lea Bronsen

   

alexander Uloom

   

After his studies in London, Ragab has returned to the nomadic lifestyle of his Bedouin family and the majestic silence of the Sahara. His days are spent herding camels and dreaming of the perfect wife, until a beautiful but annoyingly feisty bike driver stuck in a sand dune turns his quiet world upside down.

When the rat-race of life in a big U.S. city becomes too much, Stevie Jones decides to change track and live her wildest dream – compete against the tough guys in a thrilling motorcycle rally across Morocco. But to her surprise, the real excitement is to be found away from the race track, in the shifting sands of the desert…

   

* * *

   

Thanks for stopping by, and be sure to check out all the fantastic writers sharing

Mid-Week Tease Blog

   

* * *

   

Disclaimer: I borrowed this photo of handsome model Alexander Uloom to illustrate the book excerpt.

 

 

The two round mounds of her chest #SexySnippet from A Thorned Rose in the Sand

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Happy Sunday! Sexy Snippets are seven sentences taken from a work in progress or published book, brought to you every Sunday.

Today, I give you a sexy snippet from my WIP, the erotic contemporary romance A Thorned Rose in the Sand.

– – –

Having made sure his camel and the motorcycle were aligned and the rope stretched, Ragab gave his strong companion a slap on the butt. The camel jerked forward and pulled while the girl gave gas and released the clutch — and out of the sand hole jumped the motorcycle with a growl, so suddenly she lost her balance and let go of the handles. But right before it tipped over to a side, she climbed up and forced it upright. Impressive. She had the ability and grace of a horse rider.

Ragab made the camel continue to pull until the motorcycle reached the hard track, then he went back to untie the rope.

Motor idling, she sat panting, gloved hands in her lap, her emerald colored eyes shiny. He avoided looking at her, because although she was dirtier and looking more haggard than any woman he’d ever seen, the way her lips parted to breathe and the way her black, sweat-soaked top molded to her heaving chest — to the two round mounds of her chest — made him uncomfortable.

He should be man enough to disregard these details and focus on rolling the rope, but he hadn’t been with a woman in a long time, and it was obvious from the stirring in his pants, his body had certain needs to sate.

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After his studies in London, Ragab has returned to the nomadic lifestyle of his Bedouin family and the majestic silence of the Sahara. His days are spent herding camels and dreaming of the perfect wife, until a beautiful and extraordinarily feisty bike driver stuck in a sand dune turns his quiet world upside down.

When the rat-race of life in a big U.S. city becomes too much, Stevie Jones decides to change track and live her wildest dream – compete against the tough guys in a thrilling motorcycle rally across Morocco. But to her surprise, the real excitement is to be found away from the race track, in the shifting sands of the desert…

 

Catch the other #SexySnippets here!

 

@ Illustration photo by the cooool Rosie Gabrielle

 

Stone (Silver Devils MC #1) by April Zyon

Congratulations to April Zyon on your new release!


  

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He’ll do anything to keep her safe…

The last thing that wedding planner Ava Charleston ever dreamed that she would do was run for her life, but here she is, running away from a pair of murderers and back toward a home she hadn’t been to in years.

Stone Mayhew is the president of the Silver Devils, a one percenter motorcycle club, so when a brother receives a call from his cousin Ava begging for help, Stone is one of the first ones there to help his friend.

The moment Stone meets Ava he knows that she is it for him, just like his daddy had told him would happen one day. Stone knows that he will do whatever it takes in order to ensure that Ava remains safe, but he doesn’t realize it will have to happen the second that they arrive back at the Club.

Misunderstandings lead to more danger, and that sends them all to chasing down trouble through the bayous of Louisiana. But once he finds Ava, Stone vows never to let her go again.

 

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Excerpt

Stone Mayhew

When a friend asks you for help the only answer is yes, especially in an MC Club. Of course, I could have told Sarge no. That was one of the perks of being the president of the club, but the fact was that I was curious about this missing family member of Sarge’s, the one that was off limits for discussion. The one that Sarge had told me about one time when he had been too drunk to realize what he was saying. No one was that good. No one had that little malice in their bodies. I knew. I had thought at one time that I had found someone good in the woman that I had been fucking, but Cheryl had turned out to be a bitch. She thought that because I was a biker and my father had been president of the club that she would ride my dick up the ranks and never have to worry about anything.

Too bad for her that I had found out what a complete bitch she was when one of the old ladies had caught her fucking one of the pledges. Cheryl had gone off on the old lady, telling her that because she was fucking me that had her higher in the pecking order and if she didn’t want to cause trouble for her old man she would keep her mouth shut. Too bad for my ex that I had heard her and then saw her as she hit the woman.

Needless to say, the pledge was never found again, and the whore was put into the place she belonged. She was now a dick rider for anyone that wanted her. Sure, I had to see her and she still tried to get me to fall for her tricks, but I never would again. I was not stupid and wouldn’t fall for any bitch’s shit. No, I was not only Stone in name but also in my heart as well. I wasn’t going to blow Sarge’s viewpoint on his cousin, but I just hoped the woman didn’t turn out to be just as shitty as every other woman that I had met in my life.

Even with all of those thoughts rumbling in my mind I knew I couldn’t let Sarge ride alone. Charles, or Sarge as he was called in the club because he was my Sergeant-at-Arms, was as close to me as a brother. Charles and I had been thick as thieves for years, and I had met all of Charles’s family, even Ava’s mother, who actually had been a decent old lady, but I had never met this woman, Ava. So that was what had me on my bike with a dozen of my men and another half dozen pledges. It was time for us to show force and protect one of our own, even if it was a woman.

We met up with the woman in question along the road, and when I first saw her I had to admit I was taken aback. She didn’t look anything at all like Charles. She was fucking stunning. She had thick, long, midnight black hair that curled around her ass. Her eyes were a deep green, and her skin was lightly tanned. I could tell by looking at her that she had been running her hands through that glorious hair, and it made my dick hard. The thought of wrapping my hands in her hair and fucking her from behind instantly popped into my mind, a thought I shouldn’t have about a brother’s family. And then she spoke. Hell, the woman’s voice was like angels singing, if I believed in such fucking things anymore.

“Charlie!” She called to Sarge and flung herself at him. For the first time in a long time, I felt like punching the man and had no idea why. This reaction was insane, and I didn’t understand it all. I could tell that the woman was surprised by the number of bikers that had surrounded her in the small turnoff that Sarge had told her to take, but she only moved closer to her cousin. “When you said gang, I thought you were kidding,” she whispered to her cousin, words that were caught by every man present.

I had enough and stood. Approaching Sarge and the woman, Ava, I said, “Well, we’re more like a brotherhood.” I offered my tattooed hand to her. “I’m Stone Mayhew, President of the Silver Devils, and you are now officially under our protection.”

I didn’t offer my protection lightly, but I did to her willingly, easily. When she placed her hand in mine the shock was immediate. I had heard my old man talking about this, heard the whispers from some of the older generation of men that were still there and married with old ladies. The ones that were faithful old bastards but still as badass today as they were back when they were taking turns on jobs. Her hand was soft, that was the second thing I noticed, and she looked me in the eyes, not something a lot of people did.

“Nice to meet you, Stone,” she said and then smiled up at me. She hugged me then, taking all of them by surprise. I heard a couple of my men slide their pieces from their holsters and Sarge’s immediate pissed off growl to those men.

“Holster your fucking weapons. She’s just a goddamn hugger, you idiots.” Leave it to Sarge to put a name to what the woman was doing. When she pulled back she looked shocked however.

“You have guns and knives on you.” She had looked up at me as she asked me that question and quickly raced back to her cousin, and the relative safety she thought she had there. If only she knew just how deadly her cousin was.

“Yes, we all have weapons on us, Kitten. We aren’t a damn knitting club. We are an MC club, and we’re a one percenter club at that. That means that we take no fucking shit from anyone, which is why Sarge told you to get your sweet ass down here double time.” I knew I was being a dick, but I had to put distance between myself and the woman because I wanted her, in a big way.

I watched her bristle under the use of the name Kitten and smiled when she volleyed back with her next words, “Well, how was I to know that you didn’t belong to a knitting club? You look like you could do a double stitch with the best of them. After all, I’m assuming that those vests aren’t picked up at Wal-Mart, so someone has to have some kind of talent.”

Well, good for her, she could stand up for herself. Her words had me fighting a smile, but Sarge just snickered, damn him.

“That’s what the pledges are for.” Sarge waved to a couple of the men and then told her, “This is Kenny and Baxter. They’re going to take your SUV, cuz, and I’m taking you.” He wrapped a protective arm around her and hugged her to his side, giving me a hard look. “Unless that’s an issue?”

“Nope, not with me,” I said and held up his hands and went back to my bike. There was an issue, the fact that I wanted to have her riding behind me and not behind Sarge. “Let’s get moving. I’m sending Tuba, Vax, and Bird to her place in New York. Kitten, pass your house keys over to the boys so that they can pack your shit and put it in a moving van to head out when the pledges get there.”

“My name is Ava. Please don’t call me Kitten again? I dislike that from people that don’t even know me, yet.”

Oh, I would use it all right, but when I did I would be balls deep inside of her little pussy. Fuck, I hadn’t meant to go there again. I shouldn’t be thinking about my friend’s family like that.

“Sarge.” I warned my friend to get her in line, hoping he would.

“Okay, cuz, let’s get on my bike and get moving. Thanks, Prez,” Sarge said to me and nodded once as they walked past me to Sarge’s bike. It was comical watching Sarge trying to help her onto the back of his bike, but once she was up there she looked like she was born to ride bitch on the back of a bike. God dammit, the woman was giving me blue balls and killing me with just how good she looked. I kicked my bike’s kickstand. Once I got on it and we all got moving, I was able to watch her as she rode behind her cousin. At first, she was tentative and clung to Sarge’s middle, the lucky fuck, but then she let go and had her hands out with a gleeful laugh that made me ache to be the one to introduce her to riding.

Fuck, this was not going to work. I didn’t know what it was about the woman, but I was drawn to her, far too much.

 
 

Purchase Links

Evernight Publishing / Amazon US / Amazon CA / Amazon UK / Amazon Aus / Bookstrand / Barnes & Noble / iTunes / Kobo / Smashwords

  

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