Evanne Lorraine
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Teaser Tuesday

September 8, 2009 | Teaser Tuesday

Pirate Rules is releasing this month. When New Concepts makes a book available they include the first chapter as a free read on their web site. As loyal dangerously sexy readers, why should you have to wait?

Just for you, shhhh, don’t tell a soul…

Ryder eyed Heather’s lush body with thinly disguised boredom.

“It’s great you stopped by, baby. But I’ve got a ton of work due.” He seated himself firmly at the desk. Then pushed back, flashing a crooked grin. “Why don’t you go shopping, buy yourself something sexy? I’ll let you make it up to me next weekend.”

“Come on, don’t be so cold.” She climbed across his lap. “Feel that, honey? I’m sooo wet for you,” she whispered as she stretched close to his ear. “I’m not wearing panties.”

Yeah, he’d noticed. So had his cock. But he really did have a shit load of homework he needed to tackle and an early practice tomorrow morning.

He moved her off his lap, keeping his manner regretful. “You’re hot stuff, baby. Give me a break here. I need to study.”

Then Heather reached into her backpack and pulled out a pair of handcuffs. His cock leapt to full attention.

“What’s this?” he said, working to sound cool as she handed him the key to the cuffs.

“I’ve disappointed you. I need to be punished.” Heather fastened one cuff, and then held out her wrists, keeping her head bowed.

Ryder snapped the other cuff in place then slapped the key on his desk. “On your knees, slut,” he barked.

Shit, she’d gotten to him. Again.

Carefully he eased his zipper down, freeing his eager cock. “Open your mouth.”

Heather complied instantly, licking him enthusiastically.

He held her head, guiding her and setting a pace he liked while she sucked strongly, bringing him closer to climax. His thoughts drifted to Friday’s game and his orgasm receded.

Frantically, Heather suckled more strongly, ramming her face harder into his crotch.

He grasped her head more firmly, forcing her to stop. Since, she had been bad, he wasn’t ready to reward her. Plus, he knew how much she got off on being bossed around. “Go over to the window, bend over, and hold on to the sill.”

She lurched to her feet and hurried to obey his demand. Her large breasts bounced as she ran, quivering inside her shirt when she bent forward from the waist.

Because she tried hard to please him, he spoke harshly to her. “You forgot your bra again, you little slut. How many guys did you fuck before you got here?”

“None, Master. I swear I only fuck you,” she panted, licking her lips and wriggling, making her big tits jiggle.

Ryder figured she was ready to cream from the verbal abuse alone.

He rammed two fingers into her dripping cunt, and then slowly withdrew them, sniffing his wet hand. “No spunk, but the bastards could’ve worn rubbers. Tell me the truth, you horny bitch. How many guys did you fuck today?”

He didn’t wait for her answer, ramming his hard cock into her wet pussy, and making her tits bounce again.

“None, Master. I swear.” She ground her round ass against his groin, meeting his thrusts and sobbing. “Please fuck me harder.”

Reaching around her hips, he found her engorged clit and began rubbing it lazily in time with his strokes.

She creamed instantly, crying his name.

Then he pounded into her until he was ready for release, giving the spoiled cunt a second climax while he was at it. Pulling out of her grasping pussy, he grabbed her by the ears, and then turned her around. He slammed his cock down her throat, forcing her to suck his cum like a good slave should.

To her credit, Heather tried harder and harder to please him. But, the problem wasn’t anything she could fix. He was bored with her.

When she’d licked the last of his cum from his softening cock, he tucked himself into his jeans. He didn’t waste any time retrieving the key or releasing the cuffs. Dropped them and the key into her backpack, he handed the carryall to her.

“Christmas isn’t that far away,” she said tentatively.

Ryder resented the vulnerability in her tone and the hint. Her folks had more money than God, while he attended college on a scholarship.

“I’m on kind of a tight budget,” he said stiffly.

Horrified eyes met his. “Oh no, I didn’t mean, that is…, I wasn’t asking for a present.” She studied the floor while her words stumbled out of her mouth. “It’s just that I thought the Christmas party would be a nice time to announce our engagement.”

Fuck! Ryder wanted to bang his head off the desk. He should have seen that coming. Was she knocked up? Was it his? He was royally fucked. Shit, he’d have to marry her.

“Are you pregnant?” The words came out too harsh and she looked at him funny.

Heather giggled nervously. “How would I get pregnant? You never come except in my mouth.” She averted her eyes, talking even faster. “Besides I’m on the pill, remember?”

Genuinely perplexed, he asked. “Then why do you want to get married?”

“That’s what’s supposed to happen now.” She stared bleakly at a patch of wall over his left shoulder. Gradually, her voice took on new confidence as she explained things to the poor kid from the shitty neighborhood. “You fall in love with me and we get married. You go to work for Daddy. We get a nice house. Then later on, you know, we have a couple of kids. It’s the way it works.” She darted a glance at him.

“I don’t love you.” Ryder pointed out what he considered to be the fatal flaw in her plan for the rest of their lives.

Heather gaped at him. “But you have to love me. I do everything you want. You love to fuck me.”

“We’ve had a great time, Heather,” he exaggerated tactfully. “But, I don’t love you,” He moved closer to the door. Hell, he’d never said anything about love and if she loved him, it was the first time he’d heard about it.

She pleaded. “You have to marry me.”

“No, I don’t.” He opened the door. “Time for you to leave.”

Heather swayed toward him. “You’ll be sorry. You’ll beg me to marry you.” Her hand flew toward his face, long nails poised to rake.

He caught her wrist. “Threats, Heather?”

She tugged on her arm, twisting away from his grip.

Once he’d released her, she hung her head in penitence. “I’m sorry–,” she wheedled.

Her mercurial mood shifts and the situation were ludicrous. His laughter erupted, cutting off whatever apology she intended to

“You’ll pay for that,” she snapped at him before bouncing out of the room.

Her skirt was caught up in back, exposing her bare ass. Ryder started to call a warning. But, she’d disappeared down the stairs before the words formed on his lips.

He leaned against the doorway, staring at the spot where Heather had vanished. He replayed their conversation for a few minutes then shook his head. Pushing all thoughts of Heather aside, he returned to his studies. That was what he was at Duke for, even greater than the thrill of playing championship basketball, was the priceless gift of a first-class education.

Twelve years later

Zara rose from the warm deck of the restored schooner. After four days in the Caribbean, her base tan was decent. Even so, she didn’t want to overdo it. The cooling breeze made it hard to judge the sun’s intensity. A burn would only add new injury to an already disappointing trip.

The impulsive decision to seek her inner vixen on a singles cruise sounded good, in theory. Reality turned out, not so great. Not that she took the mistake personally. Well, not too much. Stubbornly, she still hoped to find and free her inner wild thing.

Her mission wasn’t going well. How could she have known the women on these cruises outnumbered the men by four to one? Or paraphrasing the situation into Carefree Cruise lingo–the wenches to rogue ratio was a bit wench-heavy. The other wenches, uh women connected fine with their party-animal side, leaving her feeling like the ugly cousin at a cool kids’ party.

The all-male crew did their best to fill in, especially the Captain. But that was another problem. Captain Smiley took her polite refusals as signs she needed more forceful persuasion. Privately, she renamed him, Slimy because of her skin-crawling reaction to him.

Although, the captain was attractive enough in his own oily way. He just didn’t do it for her. The more she saw him, the less she liked him. Besides, he was shorter than she was, by a good two inches. Call her shallow–but she liked wearing heels while looking up at her dates.

The more she demurred–the more aggressively Slimy advanced. Worse, he was turning her into a coward. To avoid another confrontation with the way too enthusiastic Captain, she’d risked sunburn by deliberately waiting until the rest of the passengers, and all but a skeleton crew, went ashore before going below deck.

Slimy ambushed her in the dimly lit narrow passageway when she was still half a dozen steps from her cabin.

Saying nothing, he eyed her appreciatively, closer to leering, actually.

Her already daring bikini seemed to shrink further under his gaze, making her increasingly uncomfortable.

He planted his cuffed suede boots wider apart and flashed his too-good-to-be-natural smile. Finally, he said, “Aren’t you coming ashore for the treasure hunt?”

“Perhaps later. If you’ll excuse me.” She gestured vaguely toward her quarters.

He waggled a finger in warning. “You’ll miss your chance to be kidnapped by a handsome rogue.”

The stuffed parrot on his shoulder lurched as the ship shifted.

Smiley braced his arms on the brass handrail, blocking her way.

She almost took a step away from him. But then, her temper flared. He wasn’t going to ruin her vacation. Instead, she pushed herself deliberately closer. Inches from Slimy’s pointy nose she stopped–drawing her imaginary line on the deck.

“Intimidation and kidnapping just don’t do it for me. Go ahead, color me inhibited. Now, please get out of my way,” she said icily, pretending the hot color on her cheeks was from too much sun.

“Hey, take it easy,” he protested, taking a long step away from her. “Excuse me all to hell for trying to do my job and make sure every spoiled, stuck-up, scrawny cock tease has some fun on this trip.”

Zara glared at him. “What an amazing humanitarian. Consider your work here done. All I wanted was a chance to get away from the office and catch a little sun before tax season.”

“Your loss, bitch,” he grumbled loud enough for her to hear as he walked away.

After the captain’s departure, her surge of temper ebbed. She sagged against the smooth teak, feeling sick–a delayed reaction to the confrontation.

This time the Captain had backed down. Like most bullies, he retreated when she’d turned the tables on him and had gotten assertive. But, his resentment would fester and next time he wouldn’t be as easily intimidated.

For men like him, the word ‘no’ acted like an aphrodisiac. Pushing him wasn’t smart–there was much too great a chance he would see her as an irresistible challenge. She needed to avoid alone time with him.

There was another factor included in her resentment, Slimy’s words had hit too close to the truth. She’d booked this trip hoping to jump-start her sex life after finding out her ex-lover was married, with children.

She wanted a hot distraction from the humiliation, loneliness, and pain. Preferably, in the form of an exciting and wildly romantic affair. She wanted reassurance that she was desirable.

Even more humiliating, something she would never admit to anyone in a hundred years–she did have a secret pirate fantasy. Her personal preferences had definitely influenced her choice of Carefree Cruises. Their romantic tall ships and their ads stressing sexy pirate escapades had hooked her good.

Now, faced with the reality of the Captain’s leering and his sagging, stuffed parrot–Zara couldn’t go there.

The disappointment and fresh humiliation of Slimy’s insults had left her more depressed than ever. And worse, ashamed of her silly wishful thinking.

She scurried back to her room to cower behind the covers of her favorite book, an erotic pirate fantasy. An escape made all the more pitiful, since she’d paid good money to cower in her quarters. Though, she was locked inside the tiny cabin, not even her most reliable sexy romance held her attention.

Taking stock of the situation did nothing to cheer her. She’d lost weight after breaking up with Jason. Now, she was skirting skinny rather than slim. The day spa she’d splurged on before the cruise had been a total waste.

What good were smooth legs, a groomed bush, and polished toes if she was the only one who noticed them?

With only three days of vacation left, she needed to climb out of her comfort zone, eat something decent, and snag herself a rogue. Preferably in that order.

Her small wardrobe held nothing suitably wench-like. No broomsticks skirts, no peasant blouses, and of course, no flattering laced vests. The red tube dress would have to do. The top was tight enough that she could get by without a bra. She pulled on a red lace thong, the perfect choice for a wild woman’s undies.

Perhaps she was a little inhibited. But she sure as hell wasn’t going to dress the part.

The delicate diamond heart Jason gave her for Christmas winked at her from the lingerie drawer. Gathering up the fine chain, she opened the porthole window and tossed the necklace into the Caribbean.

The splash was barely audible.

The tiny act of rebellion felt like a giant leap of independence. No more punishing herself over the stupidity of falling for a liar and cheat. She made an understandable mistake. Jason was attentive, romantic, and oh-so charming. She’d never looked past his excuses for why he couldn’t see her on weekends or holidays.

Trustingly, she’d accepted his explanation that his OB-GYN practice kept him too busy. She’d believed every lie. Right up until the Beautiful Homes spread featuring the country estate of Dr. and Mrs. Jason La Noir and their two lovely daughters hit her mother’s mailbox.

She shook off the memory. Enough crying, enough regretting, and enough wasting her time on a man who didn’t deserve her devotion.

Zara scuffled into strappy bronze sandals that highlighted her delicious-apple-red pedicure. Flirty gold hoop earrings played well against her dark brown hair. She put extra effort into getting the eyeliner and taupe tinted shadow smudged just right to highlight her best feature-green eyes. A transparent coat of honey-flavored gloss gave her too wide mouth extra shine. A final spritz of Submission added fragrant allure to her arsenal.

The small vanity mirror reflected her results–nothing there to worry a beauty queen, but she’d done her best. She looked as hot as possible given her basic equipment. Now, she needed to relax and enjoy the rest of her vacation.

The Beach Hut jumped with a reggae band, the buzz from booze-fueled games, and the happy hormones whistling for company. The nightspot was tightly packed with locals as well as the cruise ship passengers.

Zara studied the crowd for lone men, spotting an intriguing player in pirate dress decorating the bar. Working her way through the crowd, she avoided eye contact–in order not to spook her target.

Instead of focusing on the hunk at the bar, she perused the rest of the scenery. The hut’s rustic structure was suitably picturesque with a thatched roof supported by eight massive poles, which in turn were securely bolted to a concrete pad. A single wall acted as a windbreak and backing for the bar, which dominated one end of the building. A panoramic view of the sun moving toward the horizon with great pomp and drama lit the western sky.

Boldly, she climbed onto a padded bar stool close to where she’d last seen the rugged pirate. She scanned the crowd with eager interest, hoping to catch another glimpse of the smoldering hottie. Aware her odds of success decreased in direct ratio to the rogue’s hunk factor, she optimistically searched for her dream man anyway.

Why not try for the best?

But, her screening of the bodies crowding the bar confirmed the bad news, no loose hunky pirate. Everyone seemed paired off already. No one’s fault but hers for letting Smiley’s intimidation keep her from playing the Treasure Hunt game earlier. Her rumbling stomach reminded her she missed out on the crab feed too.

A rapidly moving waitress disappeared into the crowd with a full tray of gaily-colored cocktails with lime wedges, cherries, and miniature umbrellas. The pretty drinks made Zara thirsty as well as hungry.

“What’s your pleasure, Miss?” the bartender asked with a friendly smile.

“What kind of drinks were in those hurricane glasses over there?” She waved toward the decorated cocktails.

“Those are Caribbean Cruises, Miss. They’re very popular with the ladies.”

Zara hesitated for a bare second. “I’ll have one of those, please.”

“Do you want to run a tab? Or–.”

While she was considering her options, the smoldering hottie she noticed earlier wedged in next to her, claiming a previously nonexistent space. Then he gave her a thorough going over from her well-groomed hair to her cute sandals.

Apparently, she’d passed inspection because he tipped his head toward her in a brief nod of approval.

“Add it to my bill and bring us a plate of coconut shrimp too, and another long neck brew, thanks pal.” The intriguing pirate placed his order with an engagingly crooked grin.

“Thank you,” she said, swiveling toward her benefactor.

A seductive pair of dark eyes met hers, making the lively bar scene fade into oblivion.

This close, the man intoxicated her senses. He was so near a faint trace of bleach from his shirt mingled with scents of sandalwood and clean man. The heat emanating from all those hard muscles warmed her skin.

She tried to swallow, but found her mouth suddenly too dry.

The bartender placed her pastel drink neatly in front of her and she leaned in for a fortifying sip.

Casually, she checked out the hunk through lowered lashes.
Like Smiley, the man with the sinful voice was dressed as a pirate. But on him, the costume worked. Her smile spread a little wider with relief as she realized the costume meant he had to work for the cruise line. Maybe, he was one of the cooks, since she was positive she hadn’t seen him on deck. She would have remembered.

A good head taller than her lanky five eight frame, and much broader, he made her feel positively dainty–a novel but pleasing experience. His open-necked white shirt framed a nicely rippled chest with a good sprinkling of curling black hair. Well-worn pants disappeared into supple leather boots. His waist was bound by a faded red silk wrap, complete with a wickedly authentic looking knife, tucked into the fabric. Dark curls swirled to his shoulders, providing the perfect frame for heartbreaker-eyes and the devil’s own mouth. At least one day’s growth of beard darkened his jaw. A rap-star sized diamond winked from his left ear.

“Razor Brinks,” he said, holding out a hand.

She accepted the offer to shake, darn near forgetting who she was as his warm grip engulfed her.

“Zara Sterling,” she managed to say her name. Then, because her tongue was faster than her brain, she asked. “What kind of name is Razor Brinks?”

“Mine, Sweetheart,” he drawled, taking her hand and brushing a thrilling kiss across her knuckles, and then rubbing the spot that continued tingling long after his mouth had departed.

Posted by Evanne @ 5:00 am  

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