Coming Attractions
By Rosie
Vanyon
Genre: Erotic Romance
Synopsis
During
a freak summer storm, screenwriter and heiress, Cara Kelly and movie producer,
Levi Callister are marooned alone for days in a mansion used as the set for an
erotic film series.
When
Levi discovers Cara sleeping naked in one of the sensuously themed rooms, the
two embark on a collision course that can only end up in flagrante.
Cara
is a nomadic loner, too afraid to commit to family, a home—or even a potted
begonia.
Levi
is a player—a womanizer and entrepreneur. He needs a lot of money, fast.
So, when
sparks fly between the unlikely pair both in and outside of the various
sexily-decorated bedrooms, Cara can’t help wondering if Levi’s insatiable interest
in her is real—or if it’s just her missing inheritance he’s chasing.
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Excerpt
She was practically naked—the last pastel pink
scrap of lace hid nothing. He could see, touch, taste everything. And yet there
was something incredibly intimate and romantic about the slide of his fingers
beneath the waistband of her panties, the slow drift of lace and fingertips
over her thighs, the feel of his breath against her center.
She was desperately aroused, screamingly eager,
wet and hot and throbbing for him. Her clit was puckered tight and the muscles
inside her were clenched with anticipation.
He let her panties slither to her ankles,
clasped the cheeks of her butt, and pressed his scorching mouth hard and
without warning against her wet sex. His lips were apart and he sucked her
inside his mouth—the whole plump folded core of her—and his tongue probed
unerringly to her clitoris. The feel of his mouth was the most incredible
pressure she had ever experienced. The fast, sure flicking of his tongue inside
the full suckling of his lips almost drove her out of her mind. She had not
known there was pleasure like this to be had.
Her whole body was flushed with longing, her
breath was growing irregular, and her pulse was breakdancing all over the
place. She could feel the tantalizing edges of orgasm fluttering around the
limits of her excitement. But she needed more. Something to tip her over that
exquisite, elusive precipice.
“More...” she gasped, clutching at his shoulders
as he pressed his face between her thighs, maintaining her pleasure. But even
as she begged, she had no idea how he could deliver what she needed. His
ministrations were already utterly and deliciously absorbing.
She clung to him, a single drop of perspiration
trickling between her engorged breasts as she gasped her need.
“Please…” The word was thin and strangled. She
wasn’t even sure what she was asking for.
He slid his right hand from her buttocks around
her hip and across her thigh. With nothing more than a gesture, he commanded
her thighs apart and, lost in a maelstrom of lust, she mindlessly acquiesced.
She felt utterly wanton standing before this man, legs spread while he thrilled
her with his talented mouth, his hand stroking relentlessly up and down her
thighs.
His fingers traveled lightly, teasingly,
sometimes grazing the trimmed hair at her center, occasionally brushing the
fleshy entrance to her feminine core.
She could barely catch her breath now and she felt
dizzy. Her throat was clamped shut and the razzle-dazzle of dancing lights
behind her eyelids told her she was close to losing consciousness. She was no
longer holding his shoulders for balance and encouragement. Instead, her
fingers dug into his skin for support, and as a desperate plea for him to take
her where she needed to go.
“Please, Levi, please...”
He didn’t hesitate. On the next upstroke between
her thighs, he drove his finger deep into her sex. Plunging the digit once,
twice, thrice into her soaked and scorching channel.
And then she flew apart. The orgasm rocketed
through her like a searing star shower. There was no room for thought. Her
release was pure sensation, so intense it was almost painful, so complete it
was practically spiritual. The spasms rocked the depths of her very being and
even as they began to subside, she knew what Levi had given her was a gift both
precious and rare, and that the experience had changed her so profoundly there
was no return.
Gently, lovingly, he helped her to the bed,
easing her quaking body down on the silken covers, sliding beside her and
gathering her in his arms. Slowly, as though from far, far away, she came back
to herself. First she noticed the warmth of his body in the cool air of the
room, the scuff his body hair against her smooth skin, the soothing glide of
his fingertips over her quivering arm and her hip. His heartbeat beneath her
ear was a perfect counterpoint to the rain thrumming against the window. His
breath tasted faintly of mint and wine and her own musk. Her breathing slowed
to match his lungs’ steady rhythm and her trembling began to abate.
“You look beautiful there,” he murmured against
her hair. “Your golden hair spread all across the bed, your skin glowing, your
lips swollen...”
His hands emphasized his words, stroking her
body more intently as he spoke. Of their own volition, her fingers followed
suit, trailing over his skin, mindlessly exploring the bulges and hollows of
his body. He shivered when her short fingernails skimmed his nipple, gasped
when she trailed her index finger down his hip toward the waistband of his
briefs.
There was no mistaking his arousal. The thick
length of him spasmed every time her hand drew close, and there was a tell-tale
spot of dampness near the tip. Enjoying his responses, she teasingly drew her
fingers around his belly and down the edges of his jutting hipbones, across the
elastic of his underwear and up and down the arrow of hair between his navel
and the stretch of blue fabric. He hissed and growled and squirmed under her
ministrations.
“You are going to drive me completely insane,”
he ground out, but he made no move to hurry her or change her agenda. She could
see the pulse leaping at his throat, the desperate bob of his Adam’s apple, the
sheen of sweat glistening on his brow.
She smiled saccharine sweetly at him and
deliberately brushed her hand over the bulge in his pants.
“Really?” Cara said. She did it again. “I’m so
sorry...”
“Funny, Cara, you don’t sound very sorry.”
Was he actually panting?
She quirked an eyebrow, her gaze all delighted
mischief. “It’s hard to be sorry when there’s this tempting package right in
front of me, just begging to be unwrapped.”
“If you’d like to unwrap it, Cara, be my guest.”
“Oh, I’ll unwrap it all right, but I like to
open my presents in my own sweet time. I enjoy prolonging the anticipation.”
She scuttled up his body and swallowed his groan
in her mouth from her position beside him. The taste of him was complex and
addictive. His lips were clever and intuitive. His tongue was thorough and
tempting. Cara felt as though she could stay here, kissing like this, lost in
Levi forever.
Meet
the Author
In between writing romantic stories, Rosie
Vanyon is building a house on a hillside with stunning mountain views in her
childhood home, Tasmania. She’s looking forward to sharing her dream house with
her high-maintenance dog and a couple of naughty-but-smoochy cats. She has a
Creative Arts degree and a grown-up job in financial services. Rosie has been a
writer and editor in fields as diverse as motoring, travel and tax. She is
relieved and elated to (once again) let loose her ‘romance author’ alter-ego.
At last, she is following her heart.
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