Hump Day Excerpt: M. Leighton’s Brave Enough

BRAVE ENOUGH by M. LeightonHappy Hump Day, everyone! We’ve got the perfect remedy for your mid-week blues — an exclusive excerpt from M. Leighton’s Brave Enough, available next month! We already got hot and bothered by an excerpt from Leighton’s Strong Enough, so when we heard about this new addition to the Tall, Dark and Dangerous series we had to know more!

Weatherly O’Neal was looking forward to a peaceful visit to her family’s vineyard — until Tag Barton came roaring into her life. When Tag suggests that he masquerade as her fiancé to keep the man Weatherly’s parents want her to marry at bay, it seems like the perfect plan! There’s just one problem: Weatherly wasn’t supposed to fall in love… 

Resting his weight on his forearms, Tag cups my face with his hands. In his eyes is all the desire I feel for him, harnessed carefully so that it doesn’t lash out and hurt me. “You’ll never look at these grapes the same way after tonight,” he whispers. “I promise you that.”

And then his lips find mine. They brush once and retreat, brush again and retreat. His tongue slips out to tease the crease of my mouth and his fingers hold my face prisoner. Not that I would want to escape. I want this with everything in me.

I can’t resist sneaking out to taste of him with my tongue, too. He lets me line the inside of his lower lip, holds perfectly still so that I can explore him. I revel in the irresistible essence of him. When he’s had enough, he draws my tongue into his mouth and sucks gently, sensually. I moan reflexively and, just like it did earlier, my reaction seems to unleash something within him. His demeanor goes from quiet curiosity to fierce need.

He drives his fingers into my hair and fists them, tilting my head just so in order that he can devour me. He wedges one knee between my legs, forcing them apart to accommodate him. The feel of his body pressed so intimately to mine is nearly my undoing.

But there’s more. So much more.

As his tongue tangles with mine, Tag flexes his hips, rubbing the long ridge of his erection into the apex of my thighs. “I want you so damn bad I can’t even sleep,” he hisses between clenched teeth, as though his need of me is more than he can bear. And to be wanted like this . . . by a man like him . . . it sets free a burning wildness within me that I never knew existed.

I raise one leg to wrap around his waist, tipping up my hips to press into his hardness. He wrenches his mouth away from mine and levers his upper body away from mine, up onto his hands so he can arch his back and rock his cock against me.

I gasp, sensation running through me like the rain is running down my face. I close my eyes for a few seconds, exulting in the abandon that has taken over me. When I open them again, I see Tag staring down at me, hunger written all over his face.

He lifts one muddy hand and palms my cheek, dragging his fingertips down my neck to the thin strap of my nightie. He does it purposefully, passionately, like he’s marking me, each streak the bold evidence of his possession.

He tugs down the strap, exposing one pleading nipple, baring it for his ravishment. And ravish, he does. With his hips circling against mine, he pulls my flesh into his mouth and sucks. Sucks so hard that I gasp again, unable to censor my body’s response.

Suddenly, he sits up. He fists both of his filthy hands in the low neck of my top and jerks, splitting it all the way down the front. His chest heaves as he watches warm rain splatter on my naked flesh. It softly pounds my breasts and gently teases my spread folds. The wet stimulation coupled with the hot flames of Tag’s eyes on me brings moisture flooding to the ache between my legs.

“No panties?” he asks, his voice gruff. “I love a dirty girl, but I want you dirtier,” he growls, rubbing his hands in the mud and dragging them from the valley of my breasts all the way down my stomach. He stops just below my navel and soils his hands again, rubbing them in the mud and then grabbing my hips. Roughly, he digs in with his fingers and he pulls me toward him, bringing my body into sharp contact with his denim-clad erection again. “I want to see my hand prints all over you. When you look in the mirror, I want you to remember what it feels like to have my hands on you. My mouth on you.”

He dirties his hands one last time and presses them to the insides of my thighs, spreading me further as he slides down between them. The first scrape of his tongue over my throbbing sex is like lightning. I jerk against him, my legs clamping around his shoulders. That only fuels Tag. He presses his open mouth to me, opening and closing, opening and closing, as though he wants to consume me. And I want to be consumed.

He licks with long, slow strokes and then sucks my clit into his mouth, his fingers digging into my butt to hold me still for his sensual assault. And when I can’t take it for another second, writhing in the wet, slippery mud, he relents, moving down to slip his tongue deep inside me as if in apology for driving me mad.

Over and over, he licks and sucks, he teases and torments, until I’m delirious with need, my skin a fevered blanket barely covering the nerves that are screaming his name. The light rain bathes my face, the sweet grapes scent the air and the heat of Tag surrounds me. I’m invaded by this moment, by this man. Invaded, body and soul.

As I spiral toward a shadowy peak that only my body knows, Tag pauses, releasing me as he sheds his jeans, cleaning his hands on them before he rattles a condom wrapper. I glance down at him, his eyes trained on me rather than what he’s doing. They gleam like puffs of pale smoke in the moonlight, challenging the beauty of her half-full globe above. She is ethereal. He is magnificent. He is a pagan god preparing to take what’s his. I am the willing sacrifice, laid at the altar of his perfection.

Water sluices down his wide chest, trailing over the ridges of his abdomen before parting to run around either side of his thick cock. My insides quiver as I take him in—so strong, so long, so proud. My sex squeezes in anticipation.

Tag rolls the condom into place, sheathing his massive length, and then places his hands on my knees. Gently, he presses them apart until I spread fully for him. Not once do his eyes leave mine as he crawls up my body to settle on top of me.

I feel the engorged head of him prodding at my entrance. My body sucks greedily at it, eager to have him inside me.

“I’ve thought about this from the moment I saw you washing these beautiful breasts in the tub,” he says, sparing a light kiss to the swell of one mound before he continues. “I’ve thought about what it would feel like to slide my cock into you, of how I’d like to do it for the first time with the taste of you still lingering on my tongue. And now here we are,” he says, easing the tip of his thickness into me. “It’s just as perfect as I imagined it would be.”

I hiss as he eases in a little more, stretching me, stretching me, stretching me, almost to the point of a bit of pain. He must know, too.

“A little pain never felt so good, did it, fair Weatherly? Do you know how I know that?” he asks, his voice dark chocolate. Rich cream. Black silk.

“H-how?” I pant, wanting him to stop, but praying that he won’t.

“Because of these,” he says, bending his head to swirl his tongue around one of my rock-hard nipples. “They tell me you like it. They tell me you want me to keep going. You do, don’t you? You want to feel every bit of me? You want to feel me all the way inside you, don’t you?”

Oh God! I squeeze my eyes shut, my body clutching and sucking at his even as he threatens to tear me apart.

Slowly, he continues, steadily pressing more and more of himself into me as his lips and tongue work magic at my breasts.

Lava is pouring through me and I’m drifting higher and higher on its hot wave. When Tag begins to rock against me, forcing himself a little deeper and rubbing my clit with the most delicious friction imaginable, the heat within me blazes out of control.

I gasp and moan uncontrollably, my tongue dry but for the rain that soaks its parched surface. Blood buzzes through my ears, blotting out every sound except for the purr of Tag’s voice at my ear. “Are you ready?” he whispers. “Because you feel so ready.”

All I can do is nod and hold on. So that’s what I do. I curl my fingers into the mud and I wind my trembling legs around Tag’s narrow hips, bracing for what’s to come.

With one withdrawal that takes him almost completely out of me, Tag thrusts back in, filling me up so completely that it pushes air out of my lungs in a huff. He swallows my exhalation with a hungry kiss as my body gives up its fight and begins its tumble over the edge.

Brave Enough will be available in print and digital on April 5. Grab your copy: Amazon | BN | Kobo | iBooks | IndieBound. If you want more hump day excerpts (who wouldn’t?) we’ve got you covered.

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