So I want to start being more share-y and care-y and offer more fun posts for my readers.
I got the idea for Sunday snippet from Vallory Vance’s blog.
Here’s a snippet from my upcoming erotic romance, The Thrill!
Shards of daylight filtered in from the blinds, creating a kaleidoscope of color that illuminated Max’s bedroom. It was funny, he was always talking about how proud he was to be a Kournikova, but instead of living like a prince, his room looked like every other guy’s at State.
There was the black brown desk from Ikea, lined with the expedit bookshelf. Textbooks were interspersed with empty alcohol bottles and random gadgets. The walls were lined with posters of mostly naked women, all with golden skin, and near emaciated bodies except for their xl, almost comical breasts. I didn’t look like any of them, with my midnight skin and kinky braids that spilled past my shoulders. Fresh from a shower, I’d pulled on one of his State t-shirts and it was far from baggy on my curvy frame.
I stepped from the doorway of the bathroom and caught a glimpse of his jeans from last night, the waiter’s blood brown and dried. When he stirred, swallowing before going back to sleep, I realized I was frozen, like last night, my heart racing. I hadn’t even done anything to ignite his temper, but a part of me was afraid to wake him. Afraid to wake the beast.
Stop being silly, I ordered myself silently, padding to the bedside where my yoga pants lie. They were in a bundle of darkness, discarded last night when he’d scooped me in his arms, pressing whole new buttons. The feel of him, swollen and hungry, tight against my abdomen, made it easy for the reasons why not to be overshadowed by my body’s resounding yes, yes, yes. And don’t stop. Never stop. Because after the climax and my thundering heart tapered to a steady beat, the sound of him beating the waiter rang in my ears.
I moved from his bedroom, closing the door with a tap. It was only a flimsy spread of wood, but the barrier was sobering. It helped me see clearly. Away from him, out of his arms, with his cock tucked beneath the covers and not buried in me and his eyes closed and not staring at me like I was the only thing in the world that mattered, the truth was too heavy to ignore. I had to end things, before I found myself on the wrong end of his anger.
I swiped my backpack from where it sat perched beside the leather couch. Now there was just my bra. It had to be around here somewhere, since I’d shed it last night when we didn’t even make it to the bedroom.
In a mess of his bags of food and bottles of booze that littered the glass coffee table and hardwood floors, my cotton candy pink underwear should have stuck out like a sore thumb, but it was nowhere to be found. I sunk to my knees and began scouring the area. I let out a moan of disgust when my hand hit something sticky.
“Great,” I muttered. “Just-“
The hair on the back of my neck stood up. There was someone behind me. Someone that was so quiet I didn’t even hear the door open when they entered the apartment.
I pivoted around and my eyes went wide. Holy crap. It was Nikolai Kournikova–Max’s father.
I scrambled to my feet, doing this awkward curtsy. At 6 feet, built like a tank, yet wearing a two piece suit that fit him like destiny, he looked powerful. From his striking, aristocratic features, and stormy eyes that seemed to lay one bare with a glance, he was like royalty, and I a subject that didn’t want to draw his ire. And I’d seen up close and personal what happened to people that disappointed his son. God only knows what happened to those who crossed him.
“M-Mr. Kournikova,” I stammered, trying desperately to explain myself. “I w-was just, uh, getting ready to head back to campus.”
“Mmm,” his cold eyes never left mine, but he tilted his head slightly and a man stepped from behind him. Man didn’t do it justice–he was regal in his own right. While he wasn’t nearly as tall as Nikolai, he had a presence that commanded attention. His skin had a caramel tone; not that of a tanning bed or a life spent outdoors, but that of someone of Greek or some sort of ethnic ancestry. Looking at him, I could hear waves crashing, imagine the feel of the muscles beneath his sleek black shirt. When he ran a hand through his wavy black hair and his sky blue eyes took me in, lingering on the swell of my breasts, I felt moistness pool in my panties. I didn’t even know the guy’s name, we hadn’t even touched and I already wondered what the hand that reached out to shake mine would feel like as it cupped my face. Or the curve of my bottom.
I shook his hand gingerly. “H-Hi.”
“This is my associate, Demetrius Steverinos,” Nikolai said, his words thick like syrup. “Demetrius, this is my son’s friend, Ebony Rivers.”
I tried to not react to his downgrading my and Max’s relationship. After all, five seconds ago, I was lusting after some guy I’d just met. It wasn’t like me at all to fawn all over someone. I was obviously still all jumbled and confused from the night before.
Demetrius brought his other hand to join the first that held mine, cradling it. It was silly, but for the briefest moment, I felt protected. Taken care of.
I stepped backward when I heard Max’s bedroom door open and he trudged out into the living room with a yawn.
“Привет отцу. What’s up?” He sized up Demetrius and I couldn’t help but feel a modicum of pride when he looped an arm around my shoulder and pulled me close. “Who is this?”
“Demetrius and I were in the area.” Nikolai’s eyes narrowed. “Cleaning up your mess.”
Max’s back stiffened. “So it’s taken care of?”
His father didn’t reply, and it took all the self-control I had to not react. I glanced at Demetrius and he was giving me a strange look. Oh god–had he seen something that gave me away? A twitch? A quiver of disgust?
Nikolai stepped forward. “I need to speak to you alone.”
Max leaned over and pecked my forehead. His breath tickled my ear. “Be right back.”
Only my eyes moved, watching them plod toward the bedroom. The sound of the door closing made me gulp. It was just me and Demetrius.
Now that Max was up, and had clearly marked his territory, my cheeks burned hot at the dirty thoughts I’d had, the carnal daydream one of Nikolai’s henchmen had evoked. Usually the guys that came around with him were leering, google eyed men who repulsed me with their gawdy gold jewelry bought by doing Nikolai’s dirty work. But there was something different about Demetrius.
He took a step in my direction, gesturing at the backpack that sat a few feet away. It was almost taunting me, reminding me that I didn’t belong here.
“You’re a student?”
I nodded. “Yes. I go to State.”
He licked his lips, mulling over my words. “What do you study?”
“E-Elementary education,” I replied quietly.
I scanned his face for any sign of sarcasm but found none. But his eyes were no longer on me. They were looking just past, his brows furrowed.
Before I could find out what the deal was, he’d bridged the space between us, squatting down just beside me. When he stood up, he was close enough to touch. Close enough to kiss. I drew a shaky breath and breathed him in. Another distinguishing factor–Nikolai’s usual cronies reeked of cologne, like they bathed in the pungent liquid. But Demetrius had only a faint scent, that of soap and a lingering hue of cigarettes.
I opened my mouth just slightly as I felt my nipples swell to rock hard knobs beneath the jersey fabric. Who was this man? What was this need he awoke in me? I’d never felt so viscerally attracted to someone, so close to doing something undeniably stupid like kiss another’s lips with my boyfriend in the next room…