Ghost Stories #4: “Parlor Games” in THIGH HIGH
ISBN 10: 0-7582-1774-9
ISBN 13: 978-0-7582-1774-5
Release Date: February 1, 2008
Format: Trade Paperback
TRIPLE YOUR PLEASURE
An enticing collection of irresistibly erotic stories by Bonnie Edwards that reveals its delicious secrets inch by inch—and goes deep into the very heart of desire…
Total strangers Matt Crewe and Carrie MacLean have one thing in common, and it’s brought them both to the mysterious Perdition House. When Carrie wins Matt’s services as a sex slave, the amorous adventures that follow will lay bare the secrets of the House—and the exquisite ecstasy of all who pass through its gates…
Kat has been harboring a crush on her hot-but-shy neighbor, Taye, for ages, so when a pal dares her to seduce him, Kat can’t say no. It’s the perfect chance for Kat to try out the sex toys she sells—and, as luck would have it, Taye’s a man who loves to play…
Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Thong
Late-night D.J. Daniel Martin knows he has some eager female fans, but it isn’t every day one of them shows up on the gangplank of his boat, looking for a diamond-encrusted thong. Yet Frankie Volpe is here, breathless, and, yes, missing her very valuable underwear. The search begins — and they’re both getting hotter…
The excerpt contains adult content. By reading any further, you are stating that you are at least 18 years of age.
The line of cabs ahead of his moved slowly toward the mansion’s wrought iron gates. Matt Crewe tapped his knee in impatience as each car ahead of his inched along in turn as, one by one, they disappeared up a driveway covered over by pine boughs. Without warning the cab ahead of his stopped three cars back from the gates and the rear passenger door opened to allow a woman to exit.
She paid her fare at her driver’s open window. Highlighted in the headlights, she was fine featured and dressed for comfort. Her movements were briskly efficient as she handed over some bills and waved away the change. Walking shoes and blue jeans topped by a bright red fleece surprised him. He’d expected to see women dressed in silk and satin designed to tease and entice.
But then it wasn’t the women who would be on the auction block, now was it, he noted with a bitter smile. It would be men. And Matt was one of them.
He tapped his driver on the shoulder. “She’s got the right idea. It’ll be faster if I walk,” he said. The woman picked up a laptop case and an overnight bag and made for the gates on foot. If he was lucky he’d catch up to her before she reached the mansion. Whoever she was, he wanted to talk to her.
As he cleared the gates and took his first step onto the grounds of Perdition House the enormity of what he planned grabbed him by the cock.
Selling himself. A sex-filled weekend with a woman he’d never met. Would never see again. Desire rose at the thought, hot and insistent. A slight breeze kicked up, snatching at his hair, pressing his jeans against his legs.
The woman he trailed stopped…
“Oh, man, he is so buff!” Kat Hardee commented, ogling her next door neighbor. Her mail forgotten in her hand, she leaned on the mail box at the entrance to the town house complex.
“I’ll say,” Celia agreed. “But such a nerd. It’s a shame.”
Celia lived on the other side of the man in question, Taye Connors and Kat had forgotten she was standing there, too.
“I didn’t mean for you to hear that,” Kat said with a burn on her cheeks. Knowing Celia she’d twist the comment into something it wasn’t.
He climbed out of his SUV and headed to the door of his town house, briefcase in hand. He bent and picked up a package left on his front step. Wrapped in cozy brown cords, he had a great butt, even from this distance and Kat found several ways a day to see it. From her back upstairs window she’d watch him put out birdseed. Through his tiny kitchen window she’d catch glimpses of him making dinner.
“He’s not a nerd,” Kat said in his defense. “I’m willing to bet under that tweed jacket is a lot of man.”
“You think?” Celia assessed him with her man-hungry eyes.
Kat shifted. A second mistake. Taye’s physique was not up for discussion, not with Celia. She was a shark when it came to getting what she wanted. Kat’s comment had alerted her to something Kat wanted to keep to herself. For herself.
Not that she had the gumption to go after the man. Chasing a man had created havoc in her life once, she didn’t need to do it again. Especially not now! She was finally in college and finally doing something for herself.
A man in her life would only mess up everything! She wrestled the image of Taye Connors’ hot sexy body back under her libido. Way under her libido. Locked in a vault under her libido. No way would the two meet again.
“How much would you bet?”
Twinkle Twinkle Little Thong
DM’s voice rolled over her, whiskey smooth, pebble rough. With the deft hand of a master, he took her into the realm of the sensual. Throaty and hot, the distinctive sound rolled like rumbling skies around the master cabin. The poetry he read of love, loss and betrayal followed paths he created along her searing need, until she found her most needful flesh and with a lover’s touch, tipped herself over the edge toward release.
Fingers slid through slick tender flesh, moist and plump. Around. Around. Trickles of need whispered to her womb deep and empty.
Her whole life was empty these days. But she couldn’t think of that, not when release beckoned. Her breath slowed, deepened as her lungs reached for air. Her heart thumped, pulse beats rose as sensation took over again, thought drowned.
His voice came back seductive and deep and pulled her again into the quiet of rising expectation. She closed her eyes as his voice entered her, hot against her heart. The remembered weight of a chest pressed to hers, of thighs pushing with power between her own, flesh sliding into flesh, pulling along nerve endings so taut they screamed. His voice in her ear, strong, sexy and low, carrying her along. Taking, stroking her neck, her chest, nipples and down with slow strokes of his tongue.
With two fingers inside, she rolled her precious pearl of nerves with her other hand until she crested, weak and small.
Music rose all around, sweeping through her as the last pulses ebbed. It was enough. It had to be.
She wasn’t about bar prowls for sex and she couldn’t have a relationship. Not now, maybe not ever again.
Rolling to her side, she listened to the song he played for her, just for her, full of pain and loss. When it was over, she threw back the covers and went to wash her hands.