Read-Love-Blog

REVIEW:

Sealed in Blood is a very quick read and doesn’t leave you hanging.

Meet Killian in Pepper Winter’s new MC Romance!

NOW AVAILABLE

Amazon: http://amzn.to/1HGr7ac

Amazon UK: http://amzn.to/1f574HK

iBooks: http://apple.co/1RdQhDd

Nook:http://bit.ly/1G1y53T

Kobo: http://bit.ly/1S1hy76

Google Play:http://bit.ly/1LQNjRE

BLURB

“We met in a nightmare. The in-between world where time had no power over reason. We fell in love. We fell hard. But then we woke up. And it was over . . .”

RUIN & RULE

She is a woman divided. Her past, present, and future are as twisted as the lies she’s lived for the past eight years. Desperate to get the truth, she must turn to the one man who may also be her greatest enemy . . .

He is the president of Pure Corruption MC. A heartless biker and retribution-deliverer. He accepts no rules, obeys no one, and lives only to reap revenge on those who wronged him. And now he has stolen her, body and soul.

Can a woman plagued by mystery fall in love with the man who refuses to face the truth? And can a man drenched in darkness forgo his quest for vengeance-and finally find redemption?

“Ruin & Rule is a full-length book at 436 pages and ends on a cliffhanger. Cleo and Kill’s story continues in SIN & SUFFER.”

Prologue

We met in a nightmare.

The in-between world where time had no power over rhyme, reason, or connection. We met. We stared. We knew.

There was no distortion from the outside world. No right or wrong. No confusion or battles from hearts and minds.

Just us. In our silent dreamworld.

That nightmare became our home. Planting ghosts, raising fantasies. Entwined together in our happily skewed reality.

We fell in love. We fell hard.

In those fleeting seconds of our nightmare, we lived an eternity.

But then we woke up.

And it was over.

Chapter One

I always believed life would grant rewards to those most worthy. I was fucking naïve. Life doesn’t reward—it ruins. It ruins those most deserving and takes everything. It takes everything all while watching any remaining goodness rot to hate.

—Kill

[ORN_SB]

Darkness.

That was my world now. Literally and physically.

The back of my skull hurt from being knocked unconscious. My wrists and shoulders ached from lying on my back with my hands tied behind me.

Nothing was broken—at least it didn’t feel that way—but everything was bruised. The fuzziness receded wisp by wisp, parting the clouds of sleep, trying to shed light on what’d happened. But there was no light. My eyes blinked at the endless darkness from the mask tied around my head. Anxiety twisted my stomach at having such a fundamental gift taken away.

I didn’t move, but mentally catalogued my body from the tips of my toes to the last strand of hair on my head. My jaw and tongue ached from the foul rag stuffed in my mouth and my nose permitted a shallow stream of oxygen to enter—just enough to keep me alive.

Fear tried to claw its way through my mind, but I shoved it away. I deliberately suppressed panic in order to assess my predicament rather than lose myself to terror.

Fear never helps, only hinders.

My senses came back, creeping tentatively, as if afraid whoever had stolen me would notice their return.

Sound: the squeak of brakes, the creak of a vehicle settling from motion to stopping.

Touch: the skin on my right forearm stung, throbbing with a mixture of soreness and sharpness. A burn perhaps?

Smell: dank rotting vegetables and the astringent, pungent scent of fear—but it wasn’t mine. It was theirs.

It wasn’t just me being kidnapped.

My heart flurried, drinking in their terror. It made my breath quicken and legs itch to run. Forcing myself to ignore the outside world, I focused inward. Clutching my inner strength where calmness was a need rather than a luxury.

I refused to lose myself in a fog of tears. Desperation was a curse and I wouldn’t succumb, because I had every intention of being prepared for what might happen next.

I hated the sniffles and stifled sobs of others around me. Their bleak sadness tugged at my heartstrings, making me fight with my own preservation, replacing it with concern for theirs.

Get through this, then worry about them.

I didn’t think this was a simple opportunistic snatch. Whoever had stolen me planned it. The hunch grew stronger as I searched inside for any liquor remnants or the smell of cigarettes.

Had I been at a party? Nightclub?

Nothing.

I hadn’t been stupid or reckless. I think…

No hint or clue as to where I’d been or what I’d been doing when they’d come for me.

I wriggled, trying to move away from the stench. My bound wrists protested, stinging as the rope around them gnawed into my flesh like twine-beasts. My ribs bellowed, along with my head. There was no give in my restraints. I stopped trying to move, preserving my energy.

I tried to swallow.

No saliva.

I tried to speak.

No voice.

I tried to remember what happened.

I tried to remember…

Panic.

Nothing.

I can’t remember.

“Get up, bitch,” a man said. Something jabbed me in the ribs. “Won’t tell you again. Get.”

I froze as my mind hurtled me from present to past.

I’ll miss you so much,” she wailed, hugging me tighter.

“I’m not dying, you know.” I tried to untangle myself, looking over my shoulder at the final call flashing for my flight. I hated being late for anything. Let alone my one chance at escaping and finding out the truth once and for all.

“Call me the moment you get there.”

“Promise.” I drew a cross over my heart—

The memory shattered as my horizontal body suddenly went vertical in one swoop.

Who was that girl? Why did I have no memory of it ever happening?

“I said get up, bitch.” The man breathed hard in my ear, sending a waft of reeking breath over me. The blindfold stole my sight, but it left my nose woefully unprotected.

Unfortunately.

My captor shoved me forward. The ground was steady beneath my feet. The sickness plaiting with my confusion faded, leaving me cold.

My legs stumbled in the direction he wanted me to go. I hated shuffling in the darkness, not knowing where I came from or where I was being herded. There were no sounds of comfort or smothered snickers. This wasn’t a masquerade.

This was real.

This is real.

My heart thudded harder, fear slipping through my defenses. But full-blown terror remained elusive. Slippery like a silver fish, darting on the outskirts of my mind. It was there but fleeting, keeping me clear-headed and strong.

I was grateful for that. Grateful that I maintained what dignity I had left—remaining strong even in the face of the unknown terrors lurking on the other side of my blindfold.

Moans and whimpers of other women grew in decibels as men ordered them to follow the same path I walked. Either death row or salvation, I had no choice but to inch my way forward, leaving my forgotten past behind.

I willed snippets to come back. I begged the puzzlement of my past to slot into place, so I could make sense of this horrible world I’d awoken in.

But my mind was locked to me. A fortress withholding everything I wished to know.

The pushing stopped. So did I.

Big mistake.

“Move.” A cuff to the back of my head sent me wheeling forward. I didn’t stop again. My bare feet traversed…wood?

Bare feet?

Where are my shoes?

The missing knowledge twisted my stomach.

Where did I come from?

How did I end up here?

What’s my name?

It wasn’t the terror of the unknown future that stole my false calmness. It was the fear of losing my very self. They’d stolen everything. My triumphs, my trespasses, my accomplishments and failures.

How could I deal with this new world if I didn’t know what skills I had to stay alive? How could I hope to defeat my enemy when my mind revolted and locked me out?

Who am I?

To have who I was deleted…It was unthinkable.

“Faster, bitch.” Something cold wedged against my spine, pushing me onward. With my hands behind my back, I shuffled faster, negotiating the ground as best I could for dips or trips.

“Step down.” The man grabbed my bound wrists, giving me something to lean against as my toes navigated the small steps before me.

“Again.”

I obeyed.

“Last one.”

I managed the small staircase without falling flat on my face.

My face.

What do I look like?

A loud scraping noise sounded before me. I shied back, bumping against a feminine form. The woman behind me cried out—the first verbal sound of another.

“Move.” The pressure on my lower back came again, and I obeyed. Inching forward until the stuffy air of old vegetables and must was replaced by…copper and metallic…blood?

Why…why is that so familiar?

I gasped as my mind free-fell into another memory.

“I don’t think I can do this.” I darted away, throwing up in the rubbish bin in the classroom. The unique stench of blood curdled my stomach.

“Don’t overthink it. It’s not what you’re doing to the animal to make it bleed. It’s what you’re doing to make it live.” My professor shook his head, waiting for me to swill out my mouth and return white-faced and queasy to the operation in progress.

My heart splintered like a broken piece of glass, reflecting the compassion and responsibility I felt for such an innocent creature. This little puppy that’d been dumped in a plastic bag to die after being shot with BB gun pellets. He’d survive only if I mastered the skills to stem his internal bleeding and embrace the vocation I was called to do.

Inhaling the scent of blood, I let it invade my nostrils, scald my throat, and impregnate my soul. I drank its coppery essence. I drenched myself in the smell of the creature’s life force until it no longer affected me.

Picking up a scalpel, I said, “I’m ready—”

“Holy fuck!” The man guiding me forward suddenly whacked the base of my spine. The hard pain shoved me forward and I tripped.

“Wire—get me fucking reinforcements. He’s started a motherfucking war!”

Wind and body motion swarmed me as men charged from behind. The darkness I lived in suddenly came alive with sound.

Bullets flew, impaling themselves into the metal sides of the vehicle I’d just stepped from. Pings and ricochets echoed in my ear. Curses bellowed; moans of pain threaded like a breeze.

Someone grabbed my arm, swinging me to the side. “Get down!” The inertia of his throw knocked me off balance. With my wrists bound together, I had nothing to grab with, no way to protect myself from falling.

I fell.

My stomach swooped as tumbled off a small platform and smashed against the ground.

Dirt, damp grass, and moldy leaves replaced the stench of blood, cutting through the cloying sharpness of spilled metallic. My mouth opened, gasping in pain. Blades of grass tickled my lips as my cheek stuck to wet mud.

My shoulder screamed with agony, but I ignored the new injury. My mind clung to the unlocked memory. The fleeting recollection of my profession.

I’m a vet.

The sense of homecoming and security that one little snippet brought was priceless. My soul snarled for more, suddenly ravenous for missing information.

I skipped straight from fumbling uncertainty into starvation for more.

Tell me! Show me. Who am I?

I searched inside for more clues. But it was like trying to grab on to an elusive dream, fading faster and faster the harder I chased.

I couldn’t remember anything about medicine or how to heal. All I knew was I’d been trained to embrace the scent of blood. I wasn’t afraid of it. I didn’t faint or suffer sickness at the sight of it pouring from an open wound.

That tiniest knowledge was enough to settle my prickling nerves and focus on the outside world again.

Battle cries. Men screaming. Men growling. The dense thuds of fists on flesh and the horrible deflection of gunshots.

I couldn’t understand. Had I fallen through time and entered an alternate dimension?

Another body landed on top of mine.

I cried out, winded from a sharp poke of an elbow to my ribs.

The figure rolled away, crying softly. Feminine.

Why aren’t I crying?

I once again searched for fear. It wasn’t natural not to be afraid. I’d woken up alone, stolen, and thrown into the middle of a war, yet I wasn’t hyperventilating or panicked.

My calmness was like a drug, oozing over me, muting the sharp starkness of my situation. It was bearable if I embraced courage and the knowledge that I was strong.

My hands balled, grateful for the thought. I didn’t know who I was, but it didn’t matter, because the person who I was in this moment mattered the most.

I had to remain segmented, so I could get through whatever was about to happen. All I had was gut instinct, quiet strength, and rationality. Everything else had been taken.

“Stop fighting, you fucking idiots!”

The loud growl rumbled like an earthquake, hushing the battle in one fell swoop. Whoever had spoken had power.

Immense power. Colossal power.

A shiver darted over my skin.

“What the fuck happened? Have you lost your goddamn lovin’ mind?” a man yelled.

A sound of a short scuffle, then the fresh whiff of tilled dirt graced my nose.

“It’s done. Throw down your weapons and bend a fucking knee.” The same earthquake rumbled. The weight of his command pushed me harder against the damp ground.

“I’m not bending nothing, you asshole. You aren’t my Prez!”

“I am. Have been for the past four years.”

“You’re not. You’re his bitch. Don’t think his power is yours.”

Another fight—muffled fists and kicks. It ended swiftly with a painful groan.

The earthquake voice came again. “Open your eyes and follow the red fucking river. Your chosen—the one you hand-picked to slaughter me and take over the Club—he’s dead. Did you ever stop to think Wallstreet made me Prez for a fucking reason?”

Another moan.

“I’m the chosen one. I’m the one who knows the family secrets, absorbed the legacy, and earned his way into power. You don’t know shit. Nobody does. So bend a fucking knee and respect.”

Another tremor ran down my back.

Silence for a time, apart from the squelch of boots and heavy breathing. Then a barely muttered curse. “You’ll die. One way or another, we won’t put up with a Dagger as a Prez. We’re the Corrupts, goddammit. Having a traitor rule us is a fucking joke.”

“I’m the traitor? The man who obeys your leader? Who guides in his stead? I’m the traitor when you try and rally my brothers in a war?” A heavy thud of a fist connected with flesh. “No…I’m not. You are.”

My mind raced, sucking up noises and forming wild conclusions of what happened before me. Was this World War Three? Was this the apocalypse of the life I couldn’t remember? No matter how I pieced it together, I couldn’t make sense of anything.

The air was thick with anticipation. I didn’t know how many men stood before me. I didn’t know how many corpses littered the ground, or how such violence could be permitted in the world I used to know. But I did know the cease-fire was fragile and any moment it would explode.

A single threat slithered through the grass like a snake. “I’ll kill you, motherfucker. Mark my words. The true Corrupts are just waiting to take you out.”

The gentle foot-thuds of someone large vibrated through the ground. “The Corrupts haven’t existed for four fucking years. The moment I took the seat, it’s been Pure Corruption all the way. And you’re not fucking pure enough for this Club. You’re done.”

I flinched as the sulfuric boom of a gun ripped through the stagnant air.

A crash as a body fell lifeless to the grass. A soft puff of a soul escaping.

Murder.

Murder was committed right before me.

The inherent need to nurture and heal—the part of me that was as steadfast as the beat of my heart—wept with regret.

Death was something I’d fought against on a daily basis, but now I was weaponless.

I hated that a life had been stolen right before me. That I hadn’t been able to stop it.

I’m a witness.

And yet, I’d witnessed nothing.

I’d been privy to a battle but seen nothing. Knew no one. I would never be able to tell who shot whom, or who was right and who was wrong.

My hands shook, even though I managed to stay eerily calm. Am I in shock? And if I was, how did I cure myself?

The woman beside me curled into a ball, her knees digging into my side. My first reaction was to repel away from the touch. I didn’t know who was friend or foe. But a second reaction came quickly; the urge to share my calmness—to let her know that no matter what happened, she wasn’t alone. We faced the same future—no matter how grim.

Voices cascaded over us, whispers mainly, quickly spoken orders. Every sound was heightened. Being robbed of sight made my body seek other ways in which to find clues.

“Get rid of the bodies before daybreak.”

“We’ll go back and make sure we’re still covered.”

“Send out the word. It’s over. The Prez won—no anarchy today.”

Each voice was distinct but my ears twitched only for one: the earthquake rumble that set my skin quivering like quicksand.

He hadn’t spoken since he’d condemned someone to death and pulled the trigger. Every second of not hearing him made my heart trip faster. I wasn’t afraid. I should be. I should be immobile with fear. But he invoked something in me—something primal. Just like I knew I was female and a vet, I knew his voice meant something. Every inch of me tensed, waiting for him to speak. It was wrong to crave the voice of a killer, but it was the only thing I wanted.

Needed.

I need to know who he is.

Wet mud sucked loudly against boots as they came closer.

The woman whimpered, but I angled my chin toward the sound, wishing my eyes were uncovered.

I wanted to see. I wanted to witness the carnage before me. Because it was carnage. The stench of death confirmed it. It was morbid to want to see such destruction, but without my sight all of this seemed like a terrible nightmare. Nothing was grounded—completely nonsensical and far too strange.

I needed proof that this was real.

I needed concrete evidence that I wasn’t mad. That my body was intact, even if my mind was not.

I sucked in a breath as warm fingers touched my cheek, angling my face upward and out of the mud. Strong hands caressed the back of my skull, fumbling with my blindfold.

The anticipation of finally getting my wish to see made me stay still and cooperative in his hold.

I didn’t say a word or move. I just waited. And breathed. And listened.

The man’s breath was heavy and low, interspersed with a quick catch of pain. His fingers were swift and sure, but unable to hide the small fumble of agony.

He’s hurt.

The pressure of the blindfold suddenly released, trading opaque darkness for a new kind of gloom.

Night sky. Moonshine. Stars above.

Anchors of a world I knew, but no recognition of the dark-shrouded industrial estate where blood gleamed silver-black and corpses dotted the field.

I’m alive.

I can see.

The joy at having my eyes freed came and went as blazing as a comet.

Then my life ended as our gazes connected.

Green to green.

I have green eyes.

Down and down I spiraled, deeper and deeper into his clutches.

My life—past, present, and future—lost all purpose the second I stared into his soul.

The fear I’d been missing slammed into my heart.

I quivered. I quaked.

Something howled deep inside with age-old knowledge.

Every part of me arched toward him, then shied away in terror.

Him.

A nightmare come to life.

A nightmare I wanted to live.

If life was a tapestry, already threaded and steadfast, then he was the scissors that cut me free. He tore me out, stole me away, changed the whole prophecy of who I was meant to be.

Jaw-length dark hair, tangled and sweaty, framed a square jaw, straight nose, and full lips. His five-o’clock stubble held remnants of war, streaked with dirt and blood. But it was his eyes that shot a quivering arrow into my heart, spreading his emerald anger.

He froze, his body curving toward mine. Blistering hope flickered across his features. His mouth fell open and love so achingly deep glowed in his gaze. “What—” A leg gave out, making him kneel beside me. His hands shook as he cupped my face, his fingers digging painfully into my cheekbones. “It’s not—”

My heart raced. Yes.

“You know me,” I breathed.

The moment my voice webbed around us, storm clouds rolled over the sunshine in his face, blackening the hope and replacing it with pure hatred.

He changed from watching me like I was his angel to glowering as if I were a despicable devil.

I shivered at the change—at the iciness and hardness. He breathed hard, his chest rising and falling. His lips parted, a rumbling command falling from his mouth to my ears. “Stand up. You’re mine now.”

When I didn’t move, his hand landed on my side. His touch was blocked by clothing but I felt it everywhere. He stroked my soul, tickled my heart, and caressed every cell with fingers that despised me.

I couldn’t suck in a proper breath.

With a vicious push, he rolled me over, and with a sharp blade sliced my bindings. With effortless power, so thrilling and terrifying, he hauled me to my feet.

I didn’t sway. I didn’t cry. Only pulled the disgusting gag from my mouth and stared in silence.

I stared up, up, up into his bright green eyes, understanding something I shouldn’t understand.

This was him.

My nightmare.

REVIEW

About the Author:

Pepper Winters wears many roles. Some of them include writer, reader, sometimes wife. She loves dark, taboo stories that twist with your head. The more tortured the hero, the better, and she constantly thinks up ways to break and fix her characters. Oh, and sex… her books have sex.

She loves to travel and has an amazing, fabulous hubby who puts up with her love affair with her book boyfriends.

Her Dark Erotica books include:

Tears of Tess (Monsters in the Dark #1)

Quintessentially Q (Monsters in the Dark #2)

Her Grey Romance books include:

Destroyed

STALK Pepper: Website | Pinterest | Facebook | Twitter | Blog | Goodreads

Meet Lea & Austin in this amazing love story!

**10 cents from every book sold will be donated to fighting cancer one chapter at a time**

NOW AVAILABLE

Amazon US: http://amzn.to/1CayiGT

Amazon UK: http://amzn.to/1HE0gNL

Barnes & Noble: http://bit.ly/1KEyik0

Kobo: http://bit.ly/1KB71R8

iBooks: http://apple.co/1esuFBa

Blurb

Lea Lamb and Austin Wolf were young when they fell in love. They never imagined the future could hold anything other than together-forever.

When Lea’s father dies in a tragic fishing accident, she’s crushed under the weight of her grief and catches a glimpse of another type of future, one she knows she’s not strong enough to face.

Austin is angry. For the past fifteen years, he’s believed the woman he loved with every ounce of his soul left him without so much as a backwards glance.

When Lea unexpectedly returns to their hometown, all the years of heartache inside Austin bubbles to the surface and presents itself as blinding rage.

Faced with the truth about the past, a newly discovered secret, these former lovers will learn that if they want to have any chance at the future they’d given up on all those years ago, they will have to rescue one another from drowning in pain so debilitating it will leave them both fighting to breathe.

REVIEW

About the Author:

Giveaway —  $50 Gift Card

a Rafflecopter giveaway

She writes me back.
I didn’t expect that.

Tells me she’s a lover of chicken pizza and videogames, a hot sorority girl with the nickname Sloth. She wants to know something about me in return. She says I owe her.

This is how she saves my life. She doesn’t even know it. We’ve never even seen each other. But I need a reason. Just one reason to continue. She becomes mine.

The anonymity is good. She doesn’t need to know me, but I need her kindness. We both live our lives: a letter here, a post card there. For three years, I escape my demons. And then one day I’m pulled back in.

I’ve resigned myself to what I know is coming. Until the girl I’m spanking gives her safe word: Sloth.

And then the lie I’m living starts to unravel.

—

Sloth is an erotic romance. It’s a dark mystery, so if you’re sad, go read another book. This one is real, and hard. Not that kind of hard. (That kind of hard, too). Consider yourself warned.

EXCERPT

“What do you need?” He’s deadly serious. If I wasn’t already on edge, I would be now. My skin tingles. My heart pounds. My clit throbs.

I leave my shirt on the bed—a necessary sacrifice, I’ve decided—and slide off the mattress. I close the distance between the two of us with one stride and press my palms against his chest. “I want to suck your dick first, Kellan. Feel you in my mouth. That’s how I’ll really know if this is worth it for me.”

I can see the surprise on his face. The arousal in his eyes. He nods once. “Come with me.”

He pulls me over to the wing-backed chair and sinks down into it. He unfastens his pants and tugs them down, revealing an enormous, straining cock. I give myself a minute to behold its perfect shape and thick, outlandish size. To appreciate the nice, big balls that hang beneath it.

I think, if I liked him, I would definitely enjoy getting him off.

“Kneel,” he orders.

With a hungry smile, I do.

“Put your mouth around me, and I’ll tell you how I like it done.” So bossy. I kind of like that, given what I’m setting up here. Boss me around, baby. You just tell me how you like it.

I decide to tease him a little first. I try to wrap my fingers around him, and of course, he’s too thick. I encircle his shaft, just under the plump head, and feel him jerk a little. Damn, that’s hot. I run my hands up and down him, heady at the softness of his warm skin over the stiff erection.

I can feel him take a deep breath as I explore him with my hands. The trick here is to be gentle: a light touch as I roam under his balls—he makes a delicious, throaty sound—and travel up his shaft, where I rub my thumb under the rim of his head, right there where it meets the underside of his shaft. I don’t know what this little hot spot is called, but when I stroke it softly, guys go crazy.

Like right now. I feel his thighs tense as he blows his breath out. His hands tighten on my shoulders as I trace my fingertip around the rim of his head. I grip him with my other hand and start to pump… He grunts, hands clenching.

“Fuck…”

I pump his shaft and lick him there—one soft, slow lap at that sweet little indention on the underside of his head. He moans, and it’s too soon to give him more. Instead I trail around the rim again, exquisitely soft and light…a tease, designed to make him brainless.

And it works. He lifts his hips. “Oh fuckkk.” He squeezes my shoulders hard enough to hurt. I twirl my tongue under his head…and open wide…and close my lips around him. Fuck, he’s big. I-can-barely-fit-my-lips-around-him big.

I don’t have room to twirl my tongue around him, so instead I use my lips—rubbing them just underneath the rim of his head, which is pushed against my tongue.

I feel him inhale. Exhale. His legs are shaking. “More.” He shifts a little, and I’m surprised to find he’s holding back. He wants to slam that big dick down my throat—I know he does—but he’s trying to be polite. The effort costs him, clearly. One big hand tunnels into my hair and tightens, pulling harshly as I stroke his shaft and suction my mouth around his head.

He groans. My eyes flick to his face, finding it rapt and tense.

“Your throat,” he moans. “Suck me…down into your throat.”

I cup one hand under his balls and keep pumping his cock. I’m gripping harder now, stroking faster. As I roll his full sac in my hand, his hips tremble. I hum a little, just to be a tease.

His eyes flip open. He looks wasted. Drugged. “Deeper,” he growls.

I suck my cheeks in around him, easing him carefully deeper as he wraps his hand around my head. My eyes begin to water. He’s so big and thick. I’ve got his head completely in my mouth now, and I can feel the pressure at the back of my tongue. To truly take him in, I’ll have to open wide and gobble down his cock.

I take him deeper, looking up at him as saliva floods my mouth. His eyes are heavy-lidded…almost shut, long lashes tipped down. I can see some color in his cheeks that wasn’t there before. His perfect lips are slightly parted.

I take still of him and feel his legs spread wider. Fuck, they’re muscular. I stroke my fingers over his sac, and his cock rewards me with a soft throb I can feel against my cheeks.

Oh yeah. He really wants this.

Deeper and I’m almost gagging. I taste something salty. His fingers stroke my scalp.

He moans and shudders. I’m deep-throating him. Go me!

I shut my eyes and focus on relaxing my throat, while one of my hands grips his hard hip. The other strokes his balls, which pull taut as he settles deep in my throat. Tears slide down my cheeks as I swallow against his length and suck my mouth tightly around his base, until he’s thrusting those granite-carved hips; making me gag around his huge girth; rocking into my throat as he pants and flexes his legs and I suck air in through my nose.

I look up at him once more. He’s beautiful. Perfection, really, even more so as he comes undone. His cock is so responsive. Swelling when I suction my cheeks around the base of him, leaking salty precum when I suck and swallow deeper.

His fingers quiver in my hair and he starts snarling…talking dirty. Calling me his fucking whore, his cock-tease, slut, even as he slumps back in the chair, more swollen-cock-that-needs-to-come than guy.

His body trembles as I give the best blow job I’ve ever given. “’M…gonna make that pussy…pay for this,” he pants. He grasps my breast and pushes further down my throat.

So aroused… I’m surprised to find that even I feel hot and bothered.

So it’s a shame what I’m going to do. What I must do, to ensure my safe departure, and also to get some insurance: a way to invalidate his story if he tries to set me up.

I swallow one more time against his thick head—something all men seem to love—and focus my mouth around the base of him. I taste another drip of pre-cum. His hands, now threaded through my hair, curl into fists as he thrusts into my throat. He groans loudly. Grunts. I feel a flash of sheer lust, imagining his huge dick in my pussy. Damn, he’s close. I’m close. I realize with a bolt of shock that I am wet and throbbing too.

And then, as I suck my cheeks in hard and grasp his sac, his hips buck; he spurts like a fountain down my throat. His body shudders mightily, and I marvel at the moisture that’s pooled in between my thighs. I’ve never enjoyed giving blow jobs, but this was something else.

I stare down at him as I stand up. His eyes are closed, his head leaned back against the chair.

But his legs are wide open—cock still mostly hard, his balls hanging without a care.

His eyes peek open too, right then, confirming my hunch that Kellan Walsh is not someone who relaxes for long. His gaze connects with mine. I grin.

And then, before he or I can speak, before another proposition can be made or another kinky phrase exchanged, I ram my knee between his legs.

I hear him grunt, but I am on the move, grabbing my shirt and shoes and darting out the door, dashing down the hall and down the stairs. Down the stairs and to my car. I hit the driver’s side so hard it hurts my ribs. I hoist myself over the door and fumble with my keys. I’m cranking the car before I catch my breath, gassing it as my head spins.

I glance behind me, half expecting to see his Sexcalade bouncing down the dirt drive after me. Half expecting to see him in my back seat.

But…nothing.

Nothing as I leave his dirt road.

Nothing as I pull over to put my shirt and shoes on.

Nothing on the drive home.

Nothing as I contemplate if he was really what he said. If he really wanted what he said, or if he was simply playing me.

Nothing as I shower, study, slip into my bed.

And then my phone lights up.

REVIEW

If you could get a look inside my brain right now, it would be full of confusion and “WTF” that it would be fruitless to try and figure out.

As soon as I saw Sloth on my kindle, I halted whatever book I was reading (sorry to that author) and immediately started reading Sloth because the blurb had me so captivated, that I had to dig in immediately.

What I wasn’t expecting was to FLOVE this book so much.  I will say that some people will feel the way I do about this book and others will feel the complete opposite.  It’s just a personal preference.

I won’t give A THING away about this.  I am sorry but to do that would completely ruin everything.  Just know that are lots of secrets and more twists and turns than I thought my heart could take.

If there is one book that you have to read this year, it’s the one.  It’s told from both main character’s POVs and is extremely well written.  It is a lengthy book but once you start, it feels like the shortest because you are too damn caught up in the story, to realize how much time has passed. And before you know it, you are at the end and possibly have the deer in the headlights look.

Ella – you have me completely reeled into this series.  I CANNOT wait til the next one comes out!

Ella James is a USA Today bestselling author who writes teen and adult romance. She is happily married to a man who knows how to wield a red pen, and together they are raising a feisty two-year-old who will probably grow up believing everyone’s parents go to war over the placement of a comma.

Ella’s books have been listed on numerous Amazon bestseller lists, including the Movers & Shakers list and the Amazon Top 100; two were listed among Amazon’s Top 100 Young Adult Ebooks of 2012.

To find out more about Ella’s projects and get dates on upcoming releases, find her on Facebook at facebook.com/ellajamesauthorpage and follow her blog, www.ellajamesbooks.com. Questions or comments? Tweet her at author_ellaj or e-mail her at ella_f_james@ymail.com.

Ella is represented by Rebecca Friedman of the Hill Nadell Literary Agency.