GENRE: Erotic, suspense novella.
PUBLISHER: Liquid Silver Books.
Miami Star reporter Rebecca Challenger desperately needs a big story on the serial killer terrorizing the city in order to get a promotion to features writer. Her main source, lead homicide detective Rick Gonzalez, despises reporters. As the pair spar over the story, they’re both jolted by a white-hot current of mutual attraction. They overcome their mistrust to start a promising love affair, but overheard gossip causes Rebecca to shy away. Baffled and hurt by Rebecca’s sudden rejection, Rick vows to forget her. That is, until the serial killer, enraged by Rebecca’s story about him, kidnaps her, and Rick must rescue the woman of his dreams. Can true love endure in the face of misunderstandings and a psychopath’s wiles?
“What do you feel like eating?” Rick looked up from leafing through the book. He stared at her, almost as if it was the first time he had seen her.
Rebecca grabbed her purse. You, she wanted to say, you. “You like sushi?” she said instead.
“Sure, whatever.” He stood, wiped the palms of his hands on his trouser legs, and waited for her to pass. As she walked by him, he grabbed her by the waist and swung her to face him. Her mouth opened in surprise, and he seized the moment to plant his lips on hers. His tongue darted out, seeking its counterpart.
Rebecca dropped her purse and raised her arms behind his neck to rifle her fingers through his coal-black hair. His touch immediately detonated charges of desire in the tips of her breasts. They ached to be devoured.
She pressed against him, pushing her distended, sensitive nipples against the solid wall of his chest. He locked his arms around her back in a full embrace. They kissed ferociously, savoring each other as they couldn’t in the parking lot. Rebecca finally pulled away, breathless. She could feel the blood draining back into her lips. She looked into his eyes, trying to gauge if he felt the same depth of desire that she did. She guided him to the couch, and they sank into the cushions.
He bent over her again; this time, he kissed her lightly all over her face and down her neck. His hand cupped her breast as his forefinger explored and found the peak of her petal-soft nipple. He thumbed it lightly, hardening it into a nub of sparking nerves. A guttural moan escaped Rebecca’s throat. She reached down and felt his cock through his pants. It was a ramrod. She slipped his belt through the buckle, undid the button and zipper, and pushed her hand down to find the head of his member, bold and tight. She slid her hand down the shaft. The skin was as fine as gossamer but underneath was hard, like satin covering a steel rod. It was long, thick, and ribbed with engorged veins. His balls were drawn up tightly into his nest of coarse curls. She palmed one and manipulated it gently so it bobbled in its sac. Rick groaned; his mouth parted in pleasure. Then she did the same to the other. Making an O with her thumb and forefinger, she slid her hand back up the shaft to the head, which was now slick with pre-cum. She cupped her palm over the head of his penis and spread the liquid over the glans slowly, rubbing her thumb along the ridge of his cock head and frenulum. He moaned again, more strongly this time.
She stood, wordlessly took his hand, and led him to her bedroom. They collapsed onto the bed locked in a tight embrace. Dinner was just going to have to wait.
Chantal Verlaine has been writing stories since she was six years old and firmly believes that every good story deserves a romance. A global nomad, she most recently was a Miami transplant to Los Angeles, which has many more good hair days than South Florida, but she still misses Miami's tropical nights, bathtub-warm ocean and Cuban rocket-fuel coffee.