It’s Wednesday Down Under. That means it’s time to get wicked :)
So, I’m going to be doublely wicked, by posting a snippet from my upcoming contemporary erotic menage tale, Triple Dare, and then compliment this written wickness with a piccie or two of the eye-candy wickedness that served as the inspiration for Triple Dare’s Aussie heroes.
Firstly, the excerpt. Now this is unedited, so please excuse all typos and mistakes (I’m an atrocious speller *grin*)
She licked her lips, the room’s rising temperature making her skin prickle. Or was that the layers of clothing she wore? Or the sight of Joseph and Rob with less clothing than her?
Damn, they were good looking.
And complete strangers. So why did she feel so safe with them?
Why was she just about to do the unthinkable with them?
Her gaze slipped to Joseph again, knowing he held the answer even if she couldn’t decipher it yet.
“How bout we help you with your clothing?”
Rob’s murmur tickled her ear and she started, more than a little stunned to discover he’d somehow moved to stand behind her without her even noticing.
Too busy staring at Joseph?
Warm hands smoothed up her back, over her shoulders. His fingers slid up the sensitive column of her neck, brushing at her nape before skimming back down to the neckline of her jacket. There was a slight tug and before she knew it, her jacket slipped from her body, falling to her feet in a crumpled heap of fluro-magenta.
She watched Joseph watching her, his nostrils flaring again, the muscles in his jaw bunched.
I want him to kiss me.
Rob’s hands travelled her shoulders, barely touching her. The slight caress of his palms on her arms through the thin material of her thermal sent a shiver up her spine and she pulled in a shaky breath, her nipples once again hard. Oh, God.
“C’mon, Joe,” Rob spoke against her neck, his lips warm on her flushed skin. “Don’t make me say it.”
Say what, Anna wanted to ask, but she couldn’t. The way Rob’s hands moved over her shoulders, her arms, down to her palms and back up to her shoulders again seemed to have stolen her words, a gentle caress that somehow still spoke of urgency.
Joseph swallowed, once, twice, his Adams apple working up and down his throat. And then he was standing right in front of her, so close she could feel his body heat seep into her. “You don’t have to, mate,” he said, holding her gaze with his honey-brown eyes. “Not at all.”
He lowered his head, brushing his lips over hers in a kiss that sang of such sweet hesitation her heart stopped for a still moment. Only to burst into fevered flight when he snaked his arms around her waist and yanked her against his body with a growl, his mouth crushing hers.
His tongue plunged past her lips, mating with hers. Battling it with possessive hunger.
So, there is an Australian battle after all. And I’m a part of it.
The surreal, absurd thought wafted through Anna’s head and she whimpered, curling her arms around Joseph’s neck to press her hips to his. His cock rammed against the flat plane of her belly, a rigid stiff pole not even remotely hidden by the bulk of his snow pants. Its size and width made her head swim, or perhaps that was the feel of Rob’s hands working their way down her waist to the band of own trousers.
“You have a fucking hot body,” he told her, his fingers working their way between her and Joseph until they dipped below the elastic band of her pants. “I saw it last night in the bar. Its lush curves and firm strength revealed by the tight jeans you wore.” He slipped his fingers closer to the mound of her sex, his other hand holding her hip as he pressed his groin to her ass. “The tighter t-shirt.”
Rob pushed his hips forward, his erection—as long and as impressive as Joseph’s—nudging the crevice of her ass cheeks through her snow pants. “Still,” he whispered against her ear, lips nipping her earlobe as he did so, “I think I’d like to see more of it.”
With a gentle but insistent tug, he pulled her back to his hips, his fingers moving to her waistband. Inching it down over her hips. Her thighs. “Oh, yes. I knew you would look like this.”
Joseph broke the kiss, stepping away from her a step to stare at what his friend had revealed. “Jesus Christ,” he said, the words choked. “So did I.”
She stood between them, her torso covered in a thin, shell-pink thermal, her legs bared to their hungry inspection. Rob stroked the back of her thigh, his thumb tracing a languid line over the curves of her butt cheeks. Her panties—skimpy and black—offered little protection from the slow contact and she let out a ragged breath, feeling her crotch grow damp.
Joseph’s nostrils flared again. “I can smell your desire, Anna.” His stare roamed her body, the thin space-age material of her top so stretched against her nipples it felt like a caress. “I can see it.” He raised his hands and took her breasts in each, rolling the pad of his thumb over her puckered nipples. The contact caused her bra—a silky little thing that was highly unsuitable for skiing and matched her panties perfectly—to scrape against each one and she hitched in another breath, gazing up at him.
“And I want to taste it,” Rob said behind her.
Joseph’s lips curled into a lopsided grin. “Me too.”
And now the inspirational eye-candy…
This is Joseph Hudson, Times Australia’s Businessman of the Year, born sweetie and eternal romantic.
And this is Robert Thorton, Joseph’s best mate, marketing genius and all-round dare-devil.