Rock 'n' Roll Step Dads: School of Sex (Rock 'N' Roll Step Dads Series Part 1) (5 page)

“My dear,” he said, as he took my hand and guided me into the vehicle. “You look stunning.”

I figured he was just being polite. How could I look stunning in a six year old prom dress and makeup borrowed from Lucy? I thanked him then sat with my hands folded in my lap, like a terrified schoolgirl, while he got in beside me. The driver shut the door, closed a smoky window that divided front from back, and we slipped away from the curb.

His hand enveloped my knee and he drew closer, until the side of his body pressed tight against mine. “I’m sorry I had to cut our time together short yesterday.” His fingers moved higher, swirling circles over the silky fabric covering my thigh. “Should we pick up where we left off?”

Before I had a chance to reply, he turned my face to his and claimed my lips again. The feeling he stirred in my mouth zipped right to my groin, bringing the tingle he’d sparked the day before back to life.

“Oh, Mr. Nich—I mean, Dmitri.” I gasped when his lips moved from mine and he licked the soft flesh of my neck, then he trailed the tip of his tongue over my collarbone. “This feels so good.” And it did. Even Doug, though I missed him terribly, hadn’t been able to elicit such an instant, lusty response from me.

“You feel like paradise,” he murmured, as he pushed my dress up over my thighs, then higher still, until the thin material pooled around my waist. “I knew you would. And you taste divine, too.”

***

Read an excerpt from a sizzling Wild & Lawless release
Waking Up Werewolf Series
by C.J. Sneere.

Waking Up Werewolf

(Waking Up Werewolf Part 1)

By C.J. Sneere

Warren appreciated the perfect life he now possessed. He just doubted it would last. He chided the cynic in him for being unappreciative as he walked his and Tamara’s dog, Tulle—a Boston Terrier / Beagle mix who had to sniff everything within her path.

“That tulip smells the same as the last one you smelled,” he told the dog, bending down to give her short coat a pet. “And, anyway, tulips don’t even smell, do they?”

Yes, life was good. No, great. He’d just been promoted to head ad designer in his department at his advertising firm. Tamara had moved in with him six months ago, and their relationship had deepened. He’d decided it was time to pop the question. But, first, there was something Warren had to tell his girlfriend of two years.

It was time to come out of his closet and admit he was bisexual. If he and Tamara were going to spend the rest of their lives together—and Warren didn’t plan on getting divorced—then she needed to know everything about him. He wanted no surprises after they said ‘I do.’

He thought about their honeymoon as he and Tulle strolled down a walkway domed by hedges grown in arches.

“What about Queen Charlotte Islands, hmmm, girl?” The dog just sniffed another tulip and ignored Warren.

But he thought a trip to Haida Gwaii might be just the thing. He’d never seen the islands of his ancestors, though Grandma had told him what she remembered of Moresby. Even though he lived in Richmond, relatively close to the place of the Hadia Nation, it might as well have been a world away. Particularly when he was a kid, and he and Gran had to make due on her tiny pension and some left over from his parent’s insurance. He’d been a Surrey boy back then. How far he’d come, he mused.

Little Tulle stiffened, and the short hairs along her spine stood up. She curled her lip and focused forward as she let out a low, warning growl.

“What’s up there?”

Warren held the leash tightly and shielded his eyes against the harsh glow of the globular streetlamps. At first, he saw only darkness and hedges, but then something shifted in the shadows. Something with massive shoulders hunkered low at the end of the walkway. It rose up a bit, and he caught a glimpse of pointy ears atop a shaggy head.

“Hello?” he called, and instantly felt the fool for it.
Haven’t you seen enough horror movies to know NOT to do that?
he thought, then he turned on his heel and said, “Come on, Tulle. Let’s go home.”

But the thing at the end of the path growled, loud and ferocious. Fear tingled along the back of his neck. It zipped electric spikes up and down his spine. He picked up Tulle and walked faster.

The creature let out another angry snarl. Then it started to charge toward them. It’s lumbering gait made an ominous
thuwp thuwp
against the concrete sidewalk.

Warren put speed under his heels and ran. He dared only a quick glimpse behind him. “Oh fuck,” he blurted, when his gaze lit on a ball of powerful fur and muscle streaking closer.

Warren ran faster.

Claws dug deep into the meat of his back, tearing his t-shirt to shreds with an audible
briiiiiiip
. Tulle flew from his arms and landed on her feet. The dog took one look behind her, as if to say, “Sorry, dude!” and then she booked it out of there big time.

The creature smelled of wet dog and forest undergrowth. It sank powerful teeth into Warren’s shoulder and he screamed. He thrashed under the weight and strength of the beast, finally flipping onto his back and pinning the creature beneath him.

Warren reached behind him with one shaky hand, searching for his attacker’s eyeballs. With much effort, he managed to find them and jab a thumb deep into the soft, egg-like eyeball. The sensation was disgusting, but revulsion was the last thing on his mind. Survival occupied his every thought. He dug the thumb in deeper as the thing tried to thrash away. A soft pop sounded, and eyeball ran down his hand. The creature howled in pain and the claws in his back loosened then fell away.

Pain shrieked through the muscles of his back and neck. Warren touched the wetness that trickled down his clavicle. Blood, and lots of it, streaked his palm. Though his world was blurry, like someone smeared greasy fingers over his vision, he pulled a deep breath into his lungs, pushed down the weak feeling, and ran again.

The thing was in pursuit once more. He felt its hot breath on his heels. Warren thought it would take him down again, but then two gunshots sounded, followed by a whimper and a piercing series of yips. He turned to see the beast that pursued crumple into the green grass, just as he did. It looked like an oversized timber wolf, he thought, just before blackness bloomed over his sight, stealing consciousness away.

A short time later, face pressed in the cool, damp grass, Warren heard voices.

“Bastian will be happy we’ve brought down the rogue. That bastard almost got us neck deep in trouble with the humans.”

Someone nudged Warren’s knee with a foot. “Should we take this one back with us, too?”

“Nah,” the man paused, and the sound of a match striking filtered into Warren’s ears. “Underground’s already overflowing. We’re gonna have to dig new tunnels at this rate. Leave him here. I’ll call an ambulance on our way out. I’m sure he’ll find his way to us eventually anyhow.”

Warren felt too weak to stand yet. He let himself drift off as the two men walked away. The next sound that awoke him was the screaming siren of an ambulance.

***

Read an excerpt from a sizzling Wild & Lawless release
Cindy Eller: 50 Shades of Fairy Tales
by Leigh Foxlee

Cindy Eller

By Leigh Foxlee

I ditched my pre-Valentine’s date. And it wasn’t the first time I dumped Prince Charming. I felt like a jerk.

You are a jerk!
my inner voice scolded.
I wouldn’t blame him if he never chats with you again
.

“Oh shut up,” I grumbled back, pulling my glasses from my face to clean away smudges with my sweatshirt.

Prince Charming was the chat name of my online paramour. I went by Cindy Eller, after my favorite fairy tale. My real name is Cynthia Ellerton, and everyone calls me Cindy for short, so I suppose it lacks any imagination, or internet security really. Me and PC had met in a Funtime Games chat room while playing Goofee Gophers Word Search. He’d made a joke that he must be the one for me, since our screen names matched perfectly. The conversation flowed easily, amicably.

Then, about a month back, he’d suggested taking our games over to the adult chat section. I’m somewhat sheltered when it comes to sex, but curious, and I felt I knew him well enough to agree. Besides, it was just online sex, right? What harm could come of it?

My step sisters and step mother didn’t quite see it that way.

“What if he stalks you?” Sally clucked her tongue and shook her bright red hair. “You can’t be too careful these days.”

I rolled my eyes. “It’s not like I plan on meeting him ever. Besides, I’ve been chatting with him for months. What’s the big deal? Don’t be so uptight.”

My stepmother’s smooth brow crinkled with fine lines. “Sally does have a point. Those internet—oh, what are they called?—hackers?”

Rebecca, my other step sister, nodded at her mother.

“Hackers,” my step mother continued, “could get your phone number, address, all that stuff and come kill you!”

I tried not to roll my eyes at the thin, bird-like woman. I knew she meant well. She worried that my social anxiety made me spend too much time on the computer and not enough time face to face socializing. Plus she watched too many tabloid news programs and believed them to be true. My step mom saw me as the sheltered introvert she had to protect, and I could admittedly be a bit too cavalier with my internet security, despite my deep trust issues with people. What can I say? I’ve got a contradictory personality sometimes.

Still, my family didn’t need to worry. I was great with online game chat, but I was still dodging a face to face meeting with Prince Charming. Commitment and trust issues. Yeah, I’m a real package.

I remembered our first chat make out session. He broke my sexual ice with a simple question: Are you a virgin, Cindy?

I blushed profusely before I typed back: No, but I’m new to this.

PrinceCharming: We’ll start slow. Have you ever touched yourself?

My cheeks grew hotter and my fingers shook as I typed: Masturbated?

PrinceCharming: Yes.

I chewed my lip and stared at the chat window, hating how my face burnt with embarrassment. I was a grown woman, in college for crying in the sink, and this was ridiculous. Taking a deep breath, I told myself to
Buck up, Princess.

I typed: Well… kinda … sorta.

Frustrated with myself, I hit enter and hid my face in my hands. How I wanted to punch a wall, but I didn’t want to lose my damage deposit, or break my fingers.

PrinceCharming: Kinda?

His response forced me to take deep, calming breaths. What a ninny I was!
Okay, grow up Cindy and chat.

I typed: I’ve touched my clitoris. Never inserted fingers. No orgasm… yet.

What I didn’t tell him was my step mother taught me that sex of any kind was “dirty,” “wrong,” and only for procreation. Her words, not mine. But even though I disagreed with her, the woman raised me after my dad won custody and my mom, the natural wanderer, left. I had to live by her rules at one time, and those antiquated rules still played tricks on my less than perfect brain.

PrinceCharming: Will you play with yourself 4 me? Cum 4 me?

I swallowed hard, blinked at the screen.

I typed: I don’t have a cam.

It was all I could think of, and it was true. Not that I’m a toad or anything. I like to think I’m an average-to-cute geek girl. My short, black pixie ‘do makes me look almost elfin. But I’ve never been a fan of my chin, and my nose is just okay.

PrinceCharming: That’s okay. Type as you play. Tell me how it feels.

I quit brooding about my appearance and jumped when the message ping went off. What the hell? I decided. It was time to shed my uptightness. Besides, I was in the privacy of my apartment, and no one would see.

Taking a deep breath, I typed back: I could just lie. Tell you I’m doing it when I’m not.

PrinceCharming: I trust you. :)

My heart fluttered in my chest and I almost hated him for being so slick, so nice, but that wouldn’t be fair. This was my shit messing with my head, not his fault.

I typed back: So … how should I start.

PrinceCharming: Get naked for me.

I shivered as I shed my ash grey sweatshirt, black yoga pants, and red striped thong. My skin felt electric, as if unseen charged particles pinged out of my pores. I was terrified and thrilled all at once.

My nipples puckered, hardening until they hurt as I sat in the chair again, my clothes completely shed.

I typed: Okay, what next?

PrinceCharming: I wish I could see you. ;) Spread your legs. Get comfortable.

I did, then waited for his next message.

PrinceCharming: Stroke your clit. Pull the hood back and rub it. Tell me how it feels.

I skimmed two fingers up my soft labia then caressed the tiny bead of flesh. Sparks seemed to shoot through my every nerve. When I pulled the hood back to rub beneath, a tiny moan escaped me.

PrinceCharming: Feel good?

I stopped long enough to type: Yes.

Prince Charming: Slide your fingers between your lips. Get them wet.

I did as he instructed, parting my labia to slip two fingers down my slit. It glistened with my juices, and my pussy already throbbed so strong it was driving me mad.

Once my fingers shone with wetness, I rubbed my clit again. More electric shocks zipped from my sex to my brain, showering my whole body with delightful sensation. I could see how a person could become addicted to this sort of pleasure. I certainly didn’t want it to end any time soon.

PrinceCharming: Rub your clit. Fuck yourself with your fingers. Make yourself come, Princess.

My skin tingled as I ground fingers into my swelling clitoris. Tense muscles started to relax as pleasure flooded my body. My clit pulsed strong from the stimuli. The tingling threatened to drive me mad, and my opening throbbed so hard it hurt.

PrinceCharming: Details? ;)

I groaned as I pulled my fingers away from my sex, disappointed by the cessation of bliss. I had to collect my thoughts before I could reply.