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The latest news, and I muse

Love Bonus Scene #4~A Hot Halloween

1/26/2015

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This is it, folks! The final extra scene from Love, In The Fast Lane. It’s another Wildcat POV, but this time, it’s Halloween night. At the party. And she’s about to get it on with Nicky. 

Purrrr. 

Picture

Halloween Humdinger

Cat POV from Chapter Six

I didn’t know what Nick Love saw in me.

He was sexy as all get out, smart as hell, successful to boot. In fact he was one of my favorite romance writers. With his wavy hair and the perfect stubble, the tat on his bicep and his amazing bod—he had the whole package.


Then there were his eyes. I’d never seen the color before. A light violet, they almost always seared through me. He made no effort to conceal how much he wanted me.


I, on the other hand, tried to make him think I had no interest in him whatsoever. I’d been a straight-up bitch to him every chance I got. I cut him down, I’d slapped him on the face, I stormed out on him.


He was just too dangerous to get close to. He could hurt me in ways I’d never recover from.


He wanted me to be his Wildcat, but I was nobody’s Wildcat anymore.

On Halloween night, I was unable to resist the possibility of seeing him again. I dressed with more care than usual, knowing he’d be at Stone’s garage for the party. I didn’t dress up. I dressed down—way, way down—in a manner I knew would make his head spin . . . and the other one really, really hard.


I left my hair loose and falling down my back because I knew he liked it that way. Tight black leathers, my low-heeled motorcycle boots, a lightweight tank top and no bra beneath so he could see the piercings shining through. A padded leather jacket on top. And my Harley, of course.


If I made an impression on him when I roared up outside Stone’s garage, he nearly melted my body with one sizzling look. I wanted to make fun of him for wearing a costume—he was a grown man.  Hell, all the big macho mechanics were grown men, but they’d gotten into the party spirit, too, even enormous Gerald.


None of them interested me, not like Nick. And I couldn’t laugh at him, not one bit. He helped me off my bike and into his arms. His chest was solid and wide. His body big and well muscled. The open laced shirt bared his sculpted torso, deep grooves of muscle, and what I knew to be—below—a thin line of hair that led to what felt like a sizable cock in leather lace-up pants.


Nick Love was a walking talking woman’s fantasy in a southern drawling bad boy body, and I had know doubt he’d make good on the fantasy in the very real flesh.


My mouth went dry just looking at him.


I’d thought the sight of him sweaty in his low slung shorts at the gym while he’d sparred with Josh had been the hottest thing I’d ever seen.


I was so wrong.


After I apologized for slapping him a second time, he took my lips in a powerful kiss. His mouth moved on mine, and I hunted after every hot lunge of his tongue.


Nick pulled me into The Pit where the music blared, lights flickered, people crowded together, dancing and kissing.

“Know what I had to do after you left, Wildcat?” he asked in his rough rumble.

I shook my head as the breath halted in my chest.

“I took off my clothes and lay down in bed. I teased my balls the way I think about your lips doing, Cat.”

Gripping his shoulders, I suppressed my moan. He told me he’d jerked off to me. I didn’t tell him I’d gone home and masturbated, too. That I thought about him every night when sleep wouldn’t come, just his name on my lips and a wish I could be good enough for him.

But when he said he never had to work so hard for a simple fuck before, I nearly hit him again. I tried to wrestle free of his arms, but he wouldn’t let me go.

“There’s nothing simple about you. I like it that way.”

“So I’m difficult.” I glared at him

“Are you disputing that fact?” He laughed. “And I don’t want you to be just a fuck, Cat.”

“What do you want me to be?”

“Mine.”

Heat rushed through me. His one single word warmed me from the inside. Nick made me feel alive, something I’d denied myself for so long.

When “Closer” by NIN rocked out of the speakers, the dirty beat pulsed through my body.

“C’mon, dance with me,” he said.

I was tired of telling him no. My body moved against him in answer to his low-voiced invitation.

Of course Nick could dance. I should’ve known. Everything about him was sensual, sexual, hot. Dancing with him to the gritty song felt like fucking him right there on the floor in the middle of everyone else. His hips grinded against mine. He skimmed his hands down my back to settle them on my ass. His cock throbbed against me and I wanted more with each tantalizing brush.

It was useless trying to resist him any longer. Fighting him, fighting against our attraction . . . it wasn’t working.

I wanted him.

There was one thing I knew how to do, too, and that was dance. Nick watched through hooded eyes as I got into it. I gyrated to the floor between his legs, winding my way back up. I kissed his lips before swiveling around, closing my eyes, swaying against him, feeling his strong arms envelop me and the music run through my body in time to his touch.

By the time the night ended, we’d be doing more than dancing together. We’d be fucking. The promise of sex sweltered between us.

It deepened the glow of his eyes, and sharpened the angles of his face.

Closer. That’s what we’d be. I couldn’t wait.


LOVE ON AMAZON 
STONE ON AMAZON
RIDE ON AMAZON
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    About Rie Warren

    I’m a badass, sassafras, erotic romance writer from Charleston, South Carolina. I write sexy southern bad boys, big alpha men with hearts of gold, and feisty female heroines.

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