Keta's Keep: Visiting the Brothel Scene from DECADENT DECEPTIONS

DECADENT DECEPTIONS

A Romantic Suspense Novel (EROTIC)

About Decadent Deceptions:

* 25+ Five Star Reviews

* Special Content Alert: Voyuerism

* A RWA Molly Contest Finalist

* Recommended Read, Top Pick, Book of the Month

WARNING: This book contains graphic sex scenes and language

Desperate to win Morgan’s love, Olivia Breedlove embarks on a reckless folly of cat and mouse. Morgan stays one step ahead of the woman he's loved for years, more so when he discovers the road Olivia travels is strewn with duplicity and murder.

A decade ago, Morgan was a heartbeat away from taking Olivia’s virginity. Her father, Thaddeus, intervened and threatened to meet him over pistols if he ever looked at his daughter again.

Thaddeus is dead now, and Morgan will not ignore the ravenous hunger he’s harbored for the woman. One way or the other, he will quench this burning desire and make Olivia his forever.

Excerpt from the book:

The woman in his arms with her magnificent green eyes and exquisite body had haunted his every fantasy, walked with him in his dreams and awakened in his bed kissed by morning sunlight. He would stand for no more.

He backed Olivia toward the wall until her spine lay flat against it, kissing her amid the damn mewls spewing from her throat. With pained reluctance, he withdrew his mouth allowing their breaths to mingle. He cupped her breast and ran his thumb across her hard, sensitized nub. She squirmed and tried to push him away.

“Put your hand down.” Much to his surprise, she not only obeyed but clutched the hair at his nape.

In the background, Annie’s voice reached a high-pitched cadence of animalistic groans, an aphrodisiac to his agony. He focused on the temptress in his arms, inhaled her scent, dying to touch her sex and not merely on the outside. He wanted to feel her slick, warm heat convulsing around his finger. A poor substitute for his cock, but the need to be inside her in any manner brought him to the crevice of madness.

He shoved the frilly dress up over her narrow hips, his hand lingering on her firm thigh over the ruffled pantalets women were fond of wearing. Blast the inconvenient layers of garments. Her hand moved from his hair and joined with her other to cling to his shoulders. Her breath came in little bursts as he slid the undergarment down to her ankles and ran his hand over the firm plane of her abdomen, moving lower still until he touched the downy tuft he searched for. She pressed her thighs together, an automatic response against his bold assault.

“No,” he said. “Not this time, Liv. You are not going to shut me out.”

She wet her lips and dug her quivering fingers into his shoulders. “Morgan, do not, please . . . .”

“Yes, you want me to and you know it.” Damn, if his breaths were not coming as hard and fast as hers. “In five minutes you will beg me for more.”

“Never,” she said, her eyes brimming with heat and bewilderment.

Brushing her clitoris with his fingertip, he watched her eyes grow wide and her teeth bite down on her bottom lip. He moved his finger around the swollen bud, rubbing it, applying small amounts of pressure, but refrained from entering her. Her hips rotated and she collapsed against him like a ragdoll.

“Stand up straight and spread your legs, Liv.” Motionless, she clung to him. He forced his fingers to stop moving. “Do it or I swear I will stop."

She whimpered into his chest.

“Spread your legs; now.”