Marteeka's Dreams

Tuesday, August 12, 2014

IN THE WORKS!

I've been working on this for a while, and to say the story has grown a soul of its own is a vast understatement. It's turning into the most involved story I've eve done.

GLADIATOR WOLF (as it's currently titled) is in the works for this fall. I'd hoped to have it done by the end of the summer, but even if I get it finished by the end of August, it will take some time to get edited and proofed before release.

I've just finished an intense sex scene and, to celebrate, I thought I'd give you a little taste of the tale that has become my personal obsession since its conception back in March.

Hope you enjoy...




Plundering her mouth, he slid his tongue inside, taking what she was too stunned to refuse. Miranda trembled beneath his touch, her hands tightening on his wrist and arm. She tried to kick out at him, but he only pressed his body harder against hers, trapping her tightly against the wall. Her fear was a bitter taste, but it was better than letting others think he was at her disposal instead of the other way around. Little whimpers escaped her throat, another bitter taste. Brandwulfr found he wanted this woman whimpering with need, not terror or – worse -- disgust. The thought bewildered him. For a man who was never indecisive, who always knew his course of action, this feeling of indecision was maddening.

Against his will, he softened the kiss, coaxing rather than taking. It wasn't the smartest thing he'd ever done, but he seemed unable to do otherwise. Before he knew it, he'd loosened his hold on her neck, turning it into more of a caress than a restraint. He knew the moment everything changed for her. Her body still trembled, she still whimpered, but she met the thrust of his tongue with a tentative stroke. In that instant, Brandwolfr knew he'd have Miranda for his own. He inhaled, taking her scent deeply into his lungs, secure in the knowledge there was nowhere she could go that he couldn't find her. She might be the daughter of his enemy, but she would be his.

As he ended the kiss, Brandwulfr held her gaze, her eyes were slightly glazed but wary. Her gaze flickered from his eyes to his lips as if she wanted more, but her attention was immediately back on his eyes and her face flamed. Again, fear poured off her in waves, the scent turning from the sweet scent of budding arousal to the bitter taint of fear.

"Why did you do that?" Her question was asked so softly, Brandwulfr was certain even the shifters near by couldn't hear her. It was almost as if she didn't realize she'd actually spoken. Everything in him ached to be gentle with her, screamed at him that she wasn't like him and needed him to be tender, careful. Unfortunately the situation dictated otherwise. He couldn't show weakness, couldn't afford to actually care about her.

"You see all those men watching you? The ones in this cell and the ones across the corridor? Nearly every cell in this place is connected by tunnels. The second I leave you or turn my back, every man here will be after you. And without my protection, they will get you. Do you know what they'd do to you?"

"I have a pretty good idea," she muttered. She shook violently now, her body quivering against his with equal parts fear and arousal. That feminine scent of need called to Brandwulfr on a primal level, one that was nearly impossible to deny, her fear feeding her arousal in a sickening twist of adrenaline. If he were going to get them both out of here alive, he had to ignore it.

"Now, kiss me again or you won't have my protection."

"I will not!" Her outrage was clear, though he could still scent her arousal. "I will not be bullied into being your whore!"

"The only way you're going to live long enough to make good your promise to help these men is for everyone here to think you're my woman. The only way for them to think that is for you to kiss me. Or I could fuck you right here," he sneered. "Stake my claim in a graphic display that would make sure they didn't dare touch you. Your choice, but I don't normally like to display my sexual prowess for an audience." Wide eyed, Miranda shook her head, a silent denial, her face going pale. "Now, this time, I suggest you kiss me back. And you better kiss me like you mean it."

When he dipped his head to hers this time, she met him eagerly, her mouth opened to receive his kiss. With a groan, Brandwulfr gave himself up to the pleasure. Just for a moment. The soft silk of her tongue sliding against his felt like heaven. Where before she'd been stiff and tentative, now she met his tongue almost eagerly thrust for thrust. She still trembled, but the longer he kissed her, the more her arousal grew until he knew the sweet scent permeated the area around them. Every shifter in the area would know she wanted him. With the public display of kissing her in that cell -- and the fact that she was a willing participant -- Brandwulfr was confident no one would dare approach her to do her harm if he had to leave her side. At least not immediately.

He prolonged the kiss; it was too enjoyable not too. The hand circling her throat slid to her breast and cupped gently, his thumb feathering the nipple through the silk she wore. What would she do if he kissed his way down her neck to suck that peak into his mouth? Would she let him? Would she arch to meet him?

Just as the thought crossed his mind, she stiffened, then bit his lip. Hard. To everyone around them, it would merely look as if he'd pulled back from her, ending his show of ownership instead of her rejecting him. In reality, she'd surprised him, her unexpected response to him taking things further than she'd expected oddly arousing. Any she-wolf he'd ever known would have had much the same reaction.

"So, the little human has fangs of her own." She flushed at his observation, apparently not liking being compared to the creatures her father owned. He didn't back out of her personal space though, his body still firmly pressed against hers, his swelling cock pulsing lazily against her soft belly.

"You said I had to kiss you. You didn't say anything about letting you grope me." Despite her angry words, there was fear in her lovely eyes. And, gods help him, something in him needed to back off. Both their lives could very well depend on him being the cold hearted bastard everyone thought he was, but the thought of scarring her made his chest tighten uncomfortably.

"True," he responded, backing off slowly, leisurely. "For now. But make no mistake. Should it become necessary to do more, you will do what I demand."

A spark of temper flared in that expressive face of hers. "You won't bully me into accepting your advances, no matter how dire the situation."

"Because I'm an animal?" His hand was back at her throat, pressing her into the wall once more. "I guarantee you I’m less of an animal than your father. I’m not needlessly cruel nor do I rip children from their mother's arms to sell to the highest bidder. I kill. Quickly. Not slowly, using the hand of another for the sport of the act."

Had she flushed? She certainly turned away, not meeting his gaze so boldly and proudly. The act told him much about the woman before him. Perhaps she was worth saving.

"Because what you're trying to take should be given. Not stolen." Her voice was a mere thread of sound, but it penetrated his being like the sharpest sword. He shouldn't care that she was right, shouldn't care about anything other than the end result. But he did.

Thursday, August 7, 2014

A Hero to Dance with Me



It's finally here! The third brook in the Carver Brother series!

Jezelle (Elle) Temple is a favorite employee at the Wildcat Roadhouse. Not only is she sassy and spunky, she’s sexy as hell with her innocence and girl-next-door looks. When she dances...well. Badass SEAL, Steve Carver never has a chance.

While Elle isn’t the type of girl to take just any man to her bed, there’s something about the brooding SEAL that draws her like a moth to a flame. If anyone needs her bubbly personality, it's Steve Carver. Unfortunately, one night seems to be all Steve is interested in, leaving Elle with a broken heart.

Knowing he royally screwed up, that he left behind the one thing in his life besides his family that was pure and good, Steve returns to Elle. Unfortunately, his sweet little dancer is no longer soft toward him. If anything, she looks at him with indifference, her disillusion obvious. Unable to let her go, Steve still pursues her, thinking that if he won her once, he can do it again.

But Jezelle isn't the type of girl to give second chances unless they're earned, and Steve has to prove he's the man for her. Who knew one little dancer could change his life forever? Who expected that, this was the SEAL who was only too glad to use all his considerable training to win back the heart of the one woman he's ever wanted to keep?

EXCERPT!

Had he ever seen a woman so…enticing? Steve doubted it. Though every single woman working here wore the exact same outfit, Elle made it look like an invitation for hot, sweaty sex. There was nothing overt about her. She didn’t flirt or show more skin than the outfit called for, but she was unconsciously sexy. Which was a huge turn-on for Steve since most women took one look at him and his brothers and generally fawned over them all. Not this woman. She was polite, energetic, talkative even, but all in a professional manner he sensed was designed to put people at ease. Perfect for a waitress.

He followed her with his gaze, watching as she stopped by various tables introducing herself and taking orders before returning to his table with their drinks. As she continued to chat lightly, taking their food orders and offering her opinion–when asked–about certain items on the menu, he was further charmed by her. She gave Melanie the most attention, commenting how the color of her blouse complemented her skin tone. Though she was polite to everyone, she didn’t flirt or give excessive attention to any of the men. Including him. Which displeased him.

“Is everything okay?” Elle asked her question with a raised eyebrow, looking straight at Steve. That’s when he realized he was scowling at her.

“Fine. But I’m paying and will be the one tipping you. You should shower me with attention. Not Melanie.”
Chuckles from his brothers made his face heat. Well, except for Chase who guffawed loudly. To Steve’s consternation, the lovely Elle only grinned.

“Feeling a little left out, big guy?”

“Damned straight.” If he was going to do this, he would do it right. “But you’d go a long way toward making up with me if you saved me the next dance.”

Her already sunny smile brightened.“Happy to.” Then it turned mischievous. “But you have to participate with the group.”

“Oh, no, darlin’,” he drawled. “I want a slow dance. “

She shrugged. “It’s the line dance or nothing, sweets. Sorry, but that’s house rules.” Her grin said she was anything but sorry. “I’ll make sure to come get you before we get ready to start.” Then she turned, and with a swish of her rounded ass sashayed away.

“Bloody hell,” he muttered.

“I’ll say,” Mike observed. “You? Line dancing? Can’t wait to let your team know about this.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Steve growled, then immediately threw an apologetic look at Melanie. The little wench had her hand covering her mouth. No doubt to hide a smile.

“He’s got a point, Steve,” Mike mused, looking as if he were seriously contemplating what would happen when his SEAL team found out he was line dancing with a chick. “Could get rough.”

“I think we’ve reached that point,” Rick said gravely. The bastard even looked like he cared deeply about Steve’s safety. When Steve refused to ask “what point,” Rick continued without prompting. “You know. That point where you ask yourself is the cake worth the bake.”

Steve did his best to keep his expression neutral, but his brothers must have seen something there anyway because they continued to snicker. Then he had to go and ruin the effect by muttering under his breath, “Just call me Betty fucking Crocker,” before he could stop himself.

“Wow. Is the cold-hearted SEAL finally falling for a woman? And on first sight too,” Mike said, grinning.
“What part of ‘shut the fuck up’ did you not understand?” There was no way he was going to live this down. But goddamnit, when the little vixen swished her hips in his direction at the end of their meal, Steve found himself rising to take her hand as she led him to the dance floor. For a fucking line dance.

BUY