Halloween is one of our favorite holidays! Yes we love us some free candy, but we are also interested in a more adult variety of tricks and treats. And so begins our annual, month-long Halloween Hump Day takeover, a selection of super sexy paranormal romance excerpts certain to make you scream … in a good way, of course! We’re kicking things off with a steamy excerpt from Donna S. Frelick’s Fools Rush In, available October 18.
Rayna Carver is an interstellar rescue conductor who has infiltrated a slave trip headed to an isolated region of space. When the ship is attacked by a band of pirates, help arrives from an unexpected place. Captain Sam Murphy, leader of the pack, despises slavers. Together he and Rayna work to find the spies hellbent on inciting an alien civil war …
He was sprawled in the chair across from the bunk, his eyes closed as if in sleep, and for a moment, Rayna thought she was still dreaming. His hair was tousled and wet—he must have just come from the shower—and he was wearing nothing but a pair of loose, black workout pants. For the first time she got a good look at his bare shoulders and chest—the sharply- defined muscles, the fine spray of dark hair across the broad span of chest, the scars that broke the smooth perfection of his lightly-tanned skin. She wanted to trace each one with a fingertip, to tease the story of each wound from him with kisses and licks. She didn’t know if it was the mystery of this man or simply his presence that drew her, like a comet to the sun.
She was mildly startled to hear him speak, and said the first thing that came to mind. “I meant to be gone before you came back.”
Eyes the color of sea-gems flashed below dark brows. “I meant to stay gone until you had left.”
“I’ll go.” She sat up in the bunk, started to swing her legs down to the floor.
He stood up. “No.” He came closer, pulled her up until she was standing on the mattress. They were face-to-face now; she didn’t have to look up to see his need. “Stay. Please.”
Rayna didn’t know, she couldn’t remember, when she had decided to take a chance on Sam Murphy. Maybe she hadn’t. Maybe she just had to have him. Just once. She slipped her arms around his neck and drew his mouth to hers. She opened her lips to let him in, and his kiss was hot, sweet, stealing her breath as his tongue tangled with hers.
He broke the kiss for the seconds it would take to slip his tee-shirt off over her head. He exhaled as he stared at her.
“Gods, you’re perfect.”
He ducked his head, seeking her lips again, but she held him off, wanting the same pleasure of looking at him, touching him. She ran her hands over the smooth expanse of his chest and down over the tight muscles of his belly. She smiled to hear him gasp as she skimmed his nipples and made a note to use that later. Right now she had a more immediate goal.
She slipped her hands inside his waistband and worked his pants down so he could step out of them. And, oh, God, there he was at last, long and thick and jutting up out of a nest of dark curls at the juncture of his strong thighs. She reached for him, but he swept her up into his arms before she could touch him, wrapping her legs around him, trapping his erection between their naked bodies.
“Not now,” he growled into her ear. “I swear if you touch me now, I’ll explode. I want you too much.”
The ache in his voice tugged at something below her ribs, something that had been buried deep and long protected. In self-defense she kissed him, seeking the firm answer of his lips, the silky touch of his tongue, the heady taste of intoxication.
He lowered her to the bunk, stretching her out beneath him, and she groaned with the pleasure of it—the slide of his skin on hers, the heated spike of his erection pressing into the groove of her hip, his breath matching hers. His freshly-shaved cheek was smooth against her skin, and his lips were soft, so soft, as he lifted them from her mouth to nibble at her ear, her neck, her throat.
His mouth found her breast, and his tongue circled the sensitive peak. He suckled, drawing just hard enough on her nipple to cause a sharp twinge of pain, a sizzle that ended in a warmth she felt in her deepest core. She lifted her hips, wanting more. His hand slipped down her belly, across her hip, down the outside of her thigh and up the inside to the intimate folds between her legs. His fingers began to explore the slick flesh.
His name escaped her on a sigh.
He switched his attentions to her other breast while one finger massaged the swollen pearl of her desire, slowly, maddeningly.
He stopped. Looked at her. “Tell me you want this.”
She could barely find the breath to answer him. “God, yes, I want this!”
He nipped gently at her nipple. “Tell me you want me.”
She grabbed his hair and made him look at her. “I want you, Murphy. Nobody else.”
He looked back at her with a slow, seductive smile, and, God help her, she nearly came. His hand between her legs had set up an unbearable ache, one only he could satisfy. At last she insisted on the pleasure of touching him, wrapping her hand around his thick shaft, feeling his pulse in her palm. He closed his eyes and shuddered as she stroked him, and her chest expanded in delight to hold him in her hand.
When he spoke again his voice was a whisper of sand. “Tell me . . . how . . . you want it.”
“Now, baby.” She couldn’t believe she was saying this to him, but it was what she wanted and she wouldn’t wait any longer. She needed this from him. “Hard and fast and don’t even let me breathe until I come.”
She saw his eyes darken with understanding. He rose over her and centered himself between her legs. His broad tip waited at her entrance—hot and blunt and ready. She pulsed against him, eager, needy. She held her breath as he guided himself in and lingered to caress her just above the place where they were joined. For some seconds he didn’t move. He simply filled her and stroked her while she adjusted to his length and his thickness. He stretched her enough to sting, but Jesus God she ached for him! She burned in a fire of longing.
She squirmed under him. “Sam! Goddammit!”
“Shh. I’ll give you what you want.” His voice was a low, soothing baritone. “I’ll give you everything you want.”
He began to move in her slick channel and soon swung into the rhythm she needed—long strokes, hard ones, enough to shake her where she lay beneath him. He held his weight on his hands on either side of her; she reached up to grab his forearms, roped with taut muscle, and held on while he drove her relentlessly up to a steep, airless peak. She looked down her body at him, at the sight of his flat abdomen rippling as he pistoned in and out of her, the column of his shaft starkly pale between her dark thighs. His muscles gleamed under a sheen of sweat. And his face—the way he watched her, as if her every reaction fed the hunger in him.
But then she closed her eyes because it was good, so damn good, and she couldn’t do anything but feel. Her blood was molten metal; her lungs were on fire. Every stroke into her core sent electric shocks deep into her belly, into her chest. The pleasure drove her higher. And tighter. She couldn’t think. She couldn’t breathe. She could only scream as she fell apart under his sweet assault.
Rayna came, her hips arching up off the mattress into his, her sheath clamping down on his shaft in rolling spasms, and it was everything Sam could do to hold back his own climax in the storm of her release. Gods, she was so beautiful, her face flushed with color, her full lips parted to pull in breath, her breasts rising as her back bowed in ecstasy. He gritted his teeth and fought for control as waves of scalding need swept up through his groin when she squeezed him, fought for breath as his chest constricted when she gasped his name. He thrust deeper and she only flew higher, soaring for the next peak.
She pulled him down into her arms and moaned a command: “Don’t stop, Sam. Just don’t stop.”
He growled in response, shifted his hips to make sure she felt him in all the right spots and kept on. He refused to stop, refused to slow his pounding rhythm, though every move brought him closer to losing control. He held on. He had promised her, and he would deliver.
She writhed under him, clinging to his shoulders as a second orgasm took her, her breath coming in keening gasps, as if she was unable to pull in enough air to scream or call his name. Tiny muscles spasmed and clutched at him, her climax bathing him in hot cream. Her hips moved greedily beneath his, milking him of every possible pleasure, igniting a wave of answering fire in him.
Near his limit, he waited for the frantic seizing of her intimate muscles to subside, for her breath to stop its desperate rasping. Then at last he slowed, drawing out his strokes to his full length and reseating himself high and tight. The pressure in his balls eased from now! to merely urgent. She trembled in his arms, her core pulsed around him, and he knew she wasn’t done yet. She needed more. His swollen shaft jerked in response, ready to provide it.;
He took her mouth as he took her body—a hot, deep, lazy plundering of the treasure of her kiss while he moved slow and deep inside her. Her honeyed taste and the silky slide of her tongue distracted him for a moment from the blazing need in his groin. She moaned into his kiss, and he felt it all the way to the base of his spine. Liquid fire gathered there, a pressure building that would not long be denied.
He broke off the kiss with a groan. On his elbows now, his body covering hers, he ground into her in unrelenting circles. Every stroke was fire, her channel answering with flame, their bodies moving together, their hearts beating in unison as they strained towards paradise. She began to whisper in his ear, words of encouragement, words of undeniable passion, words that made him crazy with the need to fill her, to claim her, to own her.;
And when she said, “Now, baby. Give it to me,” he couldn’t hold on any longer. Every muscle clenched as the climax took him, and he drove deep into her welcoming warmth, again and again. He felt her close around him as she cried out his name, joining him as he went up in flames, and for a moment there was only that heat, that delicious, mindless heat.
Then, when it was over, there was Rayna, looking up at him with a slightly dazed, disbelieving smile. Rayna, her eyes liquid, black and glazed with pleasure, her lips swollen from his kisses and her hands still tracing warm circles on his back. His heart expanded in his chest, surprising him so that his breath hitched.
She reached up to touch his face. “You know, you are sweeter than luta nectar when you want to be. You could definitely spoil a girl’s appetite for anything else.”
Her tone was light, teasing, but her smile didn’t reach her dark eyes. He realized with a fierce rush of possessiveness that he wanted to spoil her for anyone else. He wouldn’t share. She was his.
The unaccustomed emotion made his chest tighten around his thudding heart, but he kept his tone light, just as she had. “I could get used to spoiling your appetite, Little Bit. Breakfast—” he kissed her ear—“lunch—” he nuzzled her neck—“and dinner.” He dropped tiny kisses along her jaw until he reached her lips. There he lingered, teasing, nibbling, suckling, eventually plunging deep into the warm cavern of her mouth to entice her tongue to play. After a while he grew hard again inside her, and the sweet ache encouraged him to move.
She sighed into his ear. “God, yes, Murphy. You could make a woman lose her mind.”
Sam smiled and took his time, knowing now just how to please her. First her mind, then her heart—that had to be the plan. It was the only way to even the score between them. Because somewhere between “My name is Rayna Carver” and “oh, God, Sam!” she had stolen what belonged to him. He doubted he would ever get his heart back in one piece.