Grace is looking for a man who’s not afraid to fulfill her darkest fantasies. Matt is fighting a past that has left him terrified of turning into a monster like his father.  Here’s a spicy little excerpt of what happens the first time Grace maneuvers him onto a couch…LOL…


He was going to be gentle with her if it killed him, but the way Grace was rocking against him made Matt’s eyes cross with the need to grip her hips and drive deep inside her welcoming heat, thrusting until he’d claimed her with every inch of his body, until she surrendered to his superior physical strength and unrelenting lust.


Matt carefully placed his hands on her thighs, lightly stroking her satin skin and sliding up to gently explore the lace-covered curves of Grace’s ass instead of holding her captive to move her the way he wanted to against his throbbing dick.  With monumental self-control, he kept his mouth gentle against hers, tasting and savoring with slow, hot licks, though every muscle in his body strained with the effort to hold back and not crush her to him and demand everything she had to give.  Grace tasted incredible, as he’d always known she would.

She was rocking harder against him now, widening her thighs to press her sweet pussy more firmly against the heavy bulge in the denim, burning him alive through the layers of cloth.  The little sound she made in the back of her throat was nearly his undoing, a hot little moan of disapproval at his light touch, an insistent plea for more.

“Easy, sweetheart,” Matt tried not to beg.

Grace traced a pattern with sharp little fingernails across his chest through his tee-shirt, and a shudder rippled through him, which she seemed to enjoy.  He cringed at the sound of ripping lace, and as she gasped, he pulled his mouth away from hers to stare at the frilly black scrap tangled around his fingers, erotic evidence that some of his control had slipped and her soft flesh was now naked against him.  As if he needed the reminder. 

Rather than voicing outrage, Grace cooed softly and wriggled until he had no choice but to cup the glorious bare cheeks in his big hands, cupping and kneading, rougher than he intended to be.  Matt caught a flash of her grin as her lips lowered to taste his throat, and the sensation had his eyes rolling back.

“We have to stop,” he managed, shaky.

Matt was fast losing control of the situation, that much was clear, because he knew that if he slid his fingers down that enticing crevice to dip into the hot, wet folds beneath, he was going to forget all of his good intentions and fuck her like a beast.

“Grace – ”


Her intentions were clear as well, her fingers yanking up his shirt to explore his chest and torso, the touch of her fingers both a blessing and a curse.  Her movements were jerkier, her breath coming faster, and her eyes gleamed as she lowered her head.  Matt’s mind went blank at the feeling of her lips, her tongue, and those sharp little teeth scraping his nipple.  The shard of pleasure/pain that ripped through him as Grace bit delicately into his flesh pulled a rough groan from deep inside, and for one insane moment he tunneled the fingers of one hand through her hair to hold her mouth to him, his cock cradled against her, millimeters from Paradise. 


A whisper of leather and the feel of his belt loosening broke the spell, setting off alarm bells. 

How the fuck did I let this happen?