An American in London #booklaunch #KISKIK #Romance #power

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As if I’d arranged it, the President of America was here in London to meet the Queen of England this week. It’s a job to imagine two different characters yet they seemed to hit it off pretty well. One of the things the British know is that his mother was British – a Scottish lassie from Stornaway on the Isle of Lewis. As I’ve watched the TV footage of the state visit I’ve seen so many things that appear in my new book “Power” where Congressman Jackson T. Paine comes to London and meets his own Scottish lassie, Olivia Johnston-Denny.

1559555031.pngOn any day there will be thousands of Americans in London. On any day there will be Americans working with the British in the corridors and offices of power in an around Whitehall and Parliament itself. As a “humble” congressman, Jackson doesn’t get the level of pomp and security that surrounds President Trump. All the same, he does get to ride in one of those black armored Cadillacs that you see in American presidential convoys all over the world.

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Emma Calin Enjoying The Power of  London

Power in itself is useless. Only when combined with influence does it transform into the murky and lethal business of politics. This is how the British royal family maintain their unique status. With no mud on their lips, they may whisper in any ear. The royals appear in many of my ‘Passion Patrol’ books, starting with the arrival of baby Prince George as a germinal event in Dynasty’. In ‘Crowns’, revolution in France against an out of touch elite government calls for the restitution of the monarchy. In Guilt’, religious terrorists plot to assassinate the royal family of England when they gather for the horse racing at Royal Ascot. If you’ve watched and enjoyed the visit of president Trump to Buckingham palace I just know you’d love these stories.

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Anneli Power review 99c launchAnd now ‘Power’ is released. Congressman Jackson T. Paine is an Oklahoma farming boy tipped to run for president in 2024. He keeps it simple and has one political message:

‘Keep it Strong, Keep it Kind.’

It’s not a message everyone likes. When he collides with a flame haired girl from a castle on the Firth of Forth, the spark starts a fire. Action and passion unfold in a chase through the streets of London and Naples. If you’ve followed the series watch out for familiar faces like Anna La Salle, Shannon Aguerri, Kaitlyn Thorn, Randolph Quinn and the mysteriously ruthless Bastian Wolf.

Nothing seduces a man or woman like POWER.

Available to buy direct from me, or from all major online book retailer sites in ebook and paperback formats. 

Introductory ebook price of $4.99 $0.99.

Get the book and enjoy the POWER tonight!

Universal Book Link To All Retailers: http://www.smarturl.it/webpower

Enter my FREE online giveaways to win a paperback edition of ‘POWER’ and great limited edition book swag mugs.

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Book Launch - 6th June 2019 (1)

Getting randy with Randolph Quinn, another hot steamy tease – this time from ‘Wealth’. Adults only.

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A moment of passion, a ‘sexcerpt’ from Emma Calin’s steam suspense romance ‘Wealth’. This is the first time that Kaitlyn and Randolph make love.  They’re on board the Platinum Demeter – his super yacht, docked on the River Thames in London, just next to Tower Bridge.

The story so far….

Kaitlyn Thorn,  a traffic cop, arrests billionaire banker Randolph Quinn, after he crashes his brand new Maserati into a tree, chased by two figures on a motorbike. He surely seems to be the victim of a targeted attack, but his super-confident manner and cheeky banter arouse her suspicions. She’s left with no choice but to lock him up. This guy is too full of himself. Since that moment her life has been turned upside down. At his request, she’s been assigned to guard him 24/7 at a ‘safe house’. Just who is this guy to demand personal protection – and get it?  But their cover is blown and they just escape a petrol bomb at the new, supposedly secret address. The Albanian mafia is after him and someone on the inside has leaked their location. They’re on the run and now she doesn’t know who to trust.  She’s been ordered to stick with him – whatever happens. Apart from the trouble she’s having keeping him alive,  she’s finding herself increasingly attracted to this dashing wheeler-dealer.  They’re going to make their escape on his yacht – he’s going to pass her off as his latest companion.  She’s not had time to pack – and it’s too risky to return home, After a few hours with his unlimited bank card and a personal shopper in Harrods, she’s all set for whatever is to come…..

 

Chapter 8

She knew she looked good. The sapphire and diamond earrings sparkled in the light from the chandelier. The ring glinted on her finger. The dress was a perfect fit, the slash running just high enough up her thigh to provide an interested man with a glimpse of her lace trimmed panties. Was she allowing herself to be seduced by wealth, power, and sexual desire? Could her integrity be so easily put at risk? Too damned right it could and she knew it. She looked good, the champagne was a dream and Randolph Quinn was gorgeous. It was time to go through that door.

For a moment he didn’t speak. His hair was still wet and even darker, swept back with an aristocratic insouciance. He had changed into a white shirt accentuated by his tan. A Hermes belt held up his black Zanella handmade trousers. She held his eyes before executing her twirl.
“So, so lovely,” he said with an astonished simplicity. “I thought you’d scrub up well, but you didn’t need much on top of what you’ve got. But bloody hell, how am I gonna keep hold of a girl like you?”
“First you’ll have to get hold of me at all.”
He took a couple of strides and pulled her into his arms. His kiss was as if their lips had once before been molded in the history of a man and a woman. It was a finding of place, some place that you would always crave once you knew it existed. A helpless pulse buzzed in her groin. She let him hold her thrilling spot to the hard muscle of his thigh. She was hot and wet, feeling almost too close, far too close. He groaned a little as her belly pressed into his powerful erection. If he ran his hand now up her bare thigh she would come as they kissed with wet searching tongues. She was holding herself tight, feeling his hard cock pushing against her. She was just holding that pleasure, just too long, couldn’t hold back thinking of his cock jetting his juice into her as she came. She played a hard-core fantasy of him jerking off, helplessly pulsing out his sperm. He held her tight in support as she convulsed against him. My God, she’d just let go. She must be gushing as she growled out the last spasm of her ecstasy into his mouth and onto his softly kissing lips.
“That was so beautiful, such a compliment to a man to think someone so lovely would find pleasure in him.”
“I, I, I sort of wandered off into the long grass,” she said.
“I’ll have to fix up some sort of safari on a really big savannah,” he said with his warm smile. “We need to eat and think about our situation.”
She took a deep breath. Bloody hell, she’d just come kissing him. Maybe he hadn’t realized. Teasy aftershocks still flickered in her own little shaft. His hand ran down across her breasts to her waist. He led her to the door and out onto a swish dining deck with panoramic views and a glass-domed roof. The lights of the coast were sprinkled along a dark horizon.
“That’s Canvey Island and Southend. We’re at anchor in the Thames Estuary. Unless the bad guys have got warships or submarines we can relax here.”
She took in the view. They were at the top of the enormous ship.
“I used to sell burgers at my uncle’s fairground diner on Canvey Island,” she said.
He nodded and smiled, pulling her to him.
“We’re from the same pod, ain’t we? I love the old fairground stuff, the rides, the fried onions, the rifle range sideshows and the cuddly toys. I always dreamed a lovely girl would be on my arm one day and I’d win her the prize teddy. Pity we can’t go ashore.”
He spoke in his normal cheeky way but with an edge of sadness. She pushed her fingers back through his hair and looked up into his eyes.
“You could take a girl to a fair, surely.”
“If I could find the right girl and if my life could ever be normal.”
“Like not being a billionaire on the run from the Albanian Mafia. If you want to talk about your options, I’m your girl.”
He tweaked his eyebrow, but didn’t answer.
“One day we’ll have caviar and lobster thermidor, but tonight I’ve just ordered a couple of big rib eye steaks. Don’t tell me you don’t like fries.”
They took a window table while waiters brought them their meals. The steak was rich and soft. He poured generous glasses of red Chateauneuf du Pape. She took a slug of smooth heaven. Added to the champagne, the wine swept aside her reserve and focus.
“So, Randolph just bloody well tell me why you want me here?”
“I saw you and liked what I saw. I said to myself here’s a brave girl who’s out on her own in a cop car, turning up at whatever happens next. How many girls do you think are interested in billionaires?”
“Dunno, might be a few old slappers I suppose. Generally a sweet virgin like me wouldn’t be interested.”
“And that’s why I want you. Kaitlyn, you’re fucking gorgeous and you know it.”
“I want you to know I play Bingo with my mum, I get drunk and sing karaoke, and, and. And I’m starting to really care about you and I’m fucking terrified that you’re going to hurt me.”
She blew out her cheeks. She was a bit drunk and just saying what she thought. She had never been made to play girl games. He reached out and took both of her hands in his.
“Hurt you? You’re afraid of that?”
“Yeah. Simple. I get swept up in you and you soon see the real boring deal. You won’t want any commitment like all the bloody rotten bastards and users, and I’m there with my fake smile saying I understand. Look Randolph, it’s the wine talking, but shit I don’t care. I should never just open up like this, but I’m afraid of my own helplessness if I want a guy. I know it’s not hip or feminazi to tell you that but that’s how I am. Maybe that’s why I shoot guns, do karate, drive fast cars.”
His eyes were on her face, their kindness almost a caress.
“And why you have that tattoo of Ishtar on your arm maybe?”
She nodded. Had she ever truly thought about the reason?
“She represents female power, but a lot of that power is in the idea of giving love too. It says I’m someone, not a cop. It says I’m all sorts of stuff.”
He turned her arm to see the whole design. He leaned across the table and gently kissed the figure at the groin.
“I can’t say I’ll never hurt you. All I can say is that I won’t ever hurt you by turning away from you.”
“How the hell can you just say that about the future?”
“Because I’m the kind of guy who knows what he wants. If I hadn’t known the future how would I have known you’d want a steak? My powers are supernatural.”
“Your powers are barrow boy bullshit crook.”
“And your powers are burger-flipping karaoke girl.”
He shrugged and held her eyes.
“OK, we’re just two black and white biographies fallen from Facebook into each other’s arms. Face value’s the only sensible price if you don’t want to spend too much. Doesn’t mean we can’t dance, I guess.”
He made a sign and a guy started to play a piano in the far corner of the room. The tune was silky and familiar. She had to. She bloody well had to sing.

With a song in my heart
I behold your adorable face
Just a song at the start
But it soon is a hymn to your grace….

His eyes softened in a way she’d never seen a man react as she sang the song remembered from her father’s vinyl Ella Fitzgerald collection when she’d dreamed of being a real singer, not a girl’s night karaoke queen. She hung onto the notes, watching him grip his bottom lip in his teeth, almost as if he was fighting to hold back emotion.
She finished the song as the piano guy stood up to applaud. Randolph was simply laying his eyes on her face and watching her lips.
“So beautiful. You really can do it, can’t you? You could steal a heart from a man, roast it, carve it for his dinner, and he’d be begging for more.”
“That’s one hell of an image.”
“Worked as a butcher’s boy as a weekend job,” he said.
She smiled. She’d caught him by surprise and he’d changed the mood so as not to show his soul. Maybe, just maybe, he’d been hurt too.
The piano re-started. And there on the dark sea with the land of all their dangers held away for this one night they danced, often lips to lips, threatened only by the terror of love.

Chapter 9

It was 2 a.m. Too late to be in his bedroom, watching him undress, the shirt slipping from his broad, muscular shoulders. This guy had the build of a fighter. He hadn’t dragged her there, hadn’t made her sit on his bed to watch the show. God, he had already made her come in her panties with a kiss. Much more of this and she’d have to deal with her issues herself. He ran his hand over the hard flat muscle of his stomach, letting his fingers stray down under his belt where the first hint of his pubic hair teased up onto his tanned skin. His fingers were at the buckle. Kaitlyn, it’s only sex, it’s only pleasure, she told herself. He was watching her, letting her know that he knew where her eyes were fixed.
“It kind of gets personal in a minute,” he said with a slow smile.
She kicked off her shoes and lay back on the bed, propping herself up on the pillows, wantonly showing her panties.
“I did the cabaret, you do the striptease,” she answered, feeling the excited pulse of her lust in the depth of her belly.
He smiled back, flicking off the buckle and stepping out of his pants. Now he stood before her, his hard cock bursting from his white briefs. Her eyes shot to the slight darkening of the fabric where his man juice had already started to flow. She felt evil, wicked. She let her hand drift to her pouting hot groove. His eyes widened as his own hand slid to his cock. Her fantasy was of his semen pulsing into her hot tube. She closed her eyes, let the image take her. Oh God, he was pulling away her panties, his tongue was teasing and urging her on. She opened her eyes to see his head buried in her groin as the jolts of orgasm doubled her over onto him. For a second she subsided, allowed the tease to build without holding herself tight to bring it on. She looked down again. He was licking her, conscious of her climb to her summit, and jerking his own massive cock. His fingers eased inside her as his tongue drew her on and on. Her own hands went to her nipples sending the final sparks of release to her clitoris. She was letting go without abandon, animal sounds expressing the jungle of her woman soul and lust. His hot cock filled her as she was coming and then built her again to some higher peak from which she could only crash like a massive wave. She heard his deep voice urging her as his hard cock drove in to the limit of her flesh. Her own hand reached for her clitoris. She had to catch his wave as he groaned out his release into the heat of her flesh. She caught that same wave, calling out into the blur of desire and coming, coming, coming into the shallows of a tender kiss and the opening of eyes to see the gaze of love returned.

He didn’t move, didn’t turn away but kept his eyes steady on her face. His voice was slow and deep.
“At last I’ve made love with a woman.”
She smiled.
“You’ve made love to plenty of girls, Mr Quinn.”
“I said made love with,” he replied.
“I guess not too often on the first date. I imagine it’s no use saying I’m not that sort of girl if we assess the evidence.”
“It’s not our first date. You invited me back to your police cell, gave me a cup of tea without even a kiss and left me alone all night and I could have done with your company believe me.”
He lay on his back, pulling her to rest her head on his chest, his arm around her. She’d just forgotten everything she knew about men, about being a cop, about every kind of risk. In the warmth and the illusion of safety in his hold she didn’t care. She simply didn’t care.

For the rest of this story, download the complete book at http://www.smarturl.it/webwealth

Passion Patrol_Wealth (1) copy

If you enjoyed this post, please feel free to share, many thanks. Emma x

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Love in Venice: an uncensored moment of passion from Dynasty

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Taken from Chapter 15 of ‘Dynasty’ by Emma Calin

He led the way to the luxurious executive lounge. She accepted a coffee and a couple of salmon and cucumber blinis. This was not her comfort zone. She watched rich passengers guzzling complimentary champagne and rudely clicking their fingers at waiters for more. Spencer glanced at her, indicating his disgust with a tweak of his brow. The truth was money made things effortless. Poorer people served their needs and desires. Red carpets unrolled in front of each step as queues were pushed aside. Drivers polished cars and waited on the whims of masters. She wanted him as the man he was. But could this ever be her milieu?

Of course they traveled at the front of the cabin on wide leather seats. She relaxed and watched him working seriously on his laptop. This was a business trip after all. The absence of chatter somehow allowed a wordless blanket to wrap around them. As they walked from the plane an Italian official greeted them. They bypassed all customs and immigration checks as he showed the way to a waiting burnished motor launch. A couple of minutes later a bowing porter delivered their luggage and they set out across the still lagoon. The sky was white through to midnight blue and turning to rose. The sun brushed its last kiss before fleeing from the night. The scent was of the sea, summer heat, and humanity. The view ahead was a picture postcard. Slowly the Campanile grew larger as the onion-domed roof of the Cathedral of San Marco formed silhouettes against the hot pink sky.

She realized how little they’d spoken. They’d held hands, smiled, and let the presence of the other speak for itself. It was a quietness that was hard to kick-start into life. It had become a pause that had become a question. There was a depth in their simple presence together which their first new words mustn’t trivialize. Shannon knew that these coming words mustn’t fill their moment with chatter. She saw him look at her seriously several times as they sat in the back of the speeding launch. However they moved on from here would set the agenda of her life. She was sure of that. So far they had run headlong like playing children along a corridor towards a door which would either open, or not. They paused breathless and silent looking at each other. They were about to try the handle.

The launch slowed as they neared land. He stood and drew her up beside him. Now the shapes of the buildings of Venice were overpowering against the twilight. He tilted up her chin and kissed her with a soft urgency that left her breathless.

“Such beauty, and the view’s not bad,” he said.

Her mood lifted a little as they kissed again. Other vessels and gondolas were close by. His words had awoken her but had left a void longing to be filled.

“It doesn’t seem real, this city and being here with you.”

“You’re real enough. I don’t have the talent to dream you up.”

“Spencer….” she began, not knowing how she was going to continue.

“This is Venice, Shannon. I have no obligations or rule book here….”

He was fencing and probing. There was no need to crowd him. She studied his strong, handsome face. He was one man with one woman. The world could make whatever it would of the rest of their story. It would never be more or less than that. They were passing La Piazza San Marco and heading up into the wide mouth of the Grand Canal. Ahead was the fabulous church of Santa Maria Della Salute. They both stared into the dusk. The navigation lights of vessels were bright. A bridge spanned the canal ahead of them. She thought to ask its name but let it slide over their heads into the darkness. His arm was firm around her shoulders. She softened into him, willing him to understand his own strength through this metaphor of body against body. She closed her eyes. His voice came deep from his chest.

“I love you,” he said.

The evening of Venice sighed and surrendered into the arms of night. The weight of all the words unsaid lifted from her heart and she was free.

“I love you,” she answered.

“Do you? Do you really? I’d been so afraid to say—in case you ran from some fool.”

“I’ve loved you since we sat by the lake.”

“Yes, that was it for me too.”

“So we’re both fools not to know that such a thing could happen,” she said. “I’ve been fighting it because I couldn’t believe anyone else was as crazy as me.”

The door had opened and they had charged headlong into a new space. She hugged his waist as his arms folded her in to him. Her mind raced ahead. What was was the destination of this love?

“Before I said it, it was the most difficult thing on earth to say. Now I’ve let it out, it’s the only thing I can say,” he said.

“If I love you then it’s total, my hugga-bear. There’s no way back from love or murder. The jealous beast is out.”

“Jealous of a man like me?” he said smiling.

“Grrrrrr,” she replied.

“I wouldn’t want any other kind of love.”

“There is no other kind of love,” she said.

They were at the Rialto Bridge. They clung together in a kiss, oblivious of its magnificence. The launch had cut its engine and was coasting. There were only their words.

“My man.”

“My woman.”

A building rose above them as the boat nudged the mooring.

“This is the Palazzo Coccolare,” he said.

“Cock-o-lah-ray,” she repeated. “Sono Signora Ag-Where-ee from the Palazzo Cock-o-lah-ray.”

“That’s brilliant, you say it beautifully.”

“I don’t want to get lost and not know the address.”

She stepped out onto a stone platform that led up to a monster iron-grilled door. He steadied her arm as the door opened.

“Eccellenza—e Contessa, buona sera, che piacere,” said a dark-haired woman in a maid’s uniform.

“Antonella, e stato un lungo tempo,” said Spencer in obviously fluent Italian.

Shannon smiled as they entered the magnificent marble-floored hall.

“Dottore Ceccarelli non e qui ma la vostra suite e pronta per voi.”

“Grazie, Antonella,” said Shannon, exhausting her Italian vocabulary in one go.

The maid beamed and spoke to Spencer, squeezing his hand joyfully.

“Eccellenza—che bellezza, che felicita.”

A young man in an elegant gray suit picked up their bags and carried them to a lift. He bowed as the doors closed.

“You speak Italian?” he asked.

“Nah, I had a quick run round Google while I was waiting for the car. Sounds like you’re a pro.”

“Tourist level. We used to come here as children.”

“Whose palace is this?”

“It belongs to Dottore Ceccarelli. He’s my father’s cousin. He’ll be showing you the sights tomorrow.”

The wood paneled art deco lift juddered to a stop. He drew back the lattice gate and pushed open the door. She gasped at the sight before her. The floor was a burnished dark wood. A splendorous chandelier hung from a ceiling painted with cherubs, horses, and people in magnificent robes. She stood staring up. The illusion was of a dome rising almost forever. For her, this was an absolute first.

“Did my jaw drop?” she said.

“It is a show-stopper isn’t it? It’s by Tiepolo. He did it in 1720 for one of my ancestors, La Duchesse Feronese. She was the lover of both Louis XV of France and Cassanova. This is really a sketch. The full work is in the throne room at the royal palace of Madrid.”

Her eyes took in the deep red walls hung with massive gilt-framed mirrors. Crimson velvet buttoned chairs and a sofa formed the seating. In the center of the room was a beautiful wooden antique table, so deeply polished that it appeared to glow. Curtains in red and gold brocade swept down from the ceiling to frame open doors leading to a balcony.

“I’m just overwhelmed,” she said.

“Not by me I hope.”

“You’ll always be Spence the welder in sexy overalls to me, but all this stuff….”

“That’s all it is my love. I was born to stuff and titles. We’re all just mortal flesh and ideas.”

“Stuff is trouble. More stuff is more trouble. That’s what my dad says.”

“Then he’s a wise man.”

“And a poor one,” she said, not looking for an answer.

He had put down the bags and turned to her. Her heart raced as she looked into his eyes. For the first time she was seeing this man whom she loved as the man who loved her and risked that soft underbelly of his love. He pulled her to him and kissed her hungrily, almost masterfully. His strong arms held her to him, his hand behind her pressing her groin to his powerful body. She felt a tingle of pleasure and closed her eyes, feeling his lips and tongue with hers in a fusion of erotic emotion. Her heart sang in her chest. This man she adored had said he loved her. Over and over she let the words play in her mind. If the sun fell from the sky at this moment she would at least have reached the peak of human joy.

“You must see the view,” he said.

He led her to the balcony, his arm possessive around her waist. Below them the dark waters lapped against the steps of the palazzo. Mellow lighting danced in reflections on the Grand Canal. Gondolas and a vaporetto water bus flowed by. He had moved a little behind her, his big hands almost encircling her waist. His lips touched her neck. A sigh of pleasure rustled every leaf of joy in her body. She felt his deep voice in his chest as he spoke.

“I love you.”

He pulled her waist back to press against him. She could feel the strength of his arousal. He wanted her and that wanting thrilled her. She let her soul flow into the lapping water and her heart beat with the oars of the gondoliers. In this place beauty was a lust that could be satisfied. The most beautiful thing was their love and lust was its mortal life. She swiveled round to face him and clasped his cheeks, bringing his lips to hers. She held tightly and looked into his brown eyes.

“I love you so much Spencer. Don’t hurt me,” she said, the final words jumping out uninvited. She had never meant to reveal that fear. No one had ever held such a power over her.

“I’ll never hurt you.”

“I know,” she said.

The apartment was spectacular. A dressing room and genuine marble bathroom led off from the carpeted bedroom. The bed was antique Venetian walnut with covers of a deep cream satin.

“I need to clean up,” she began, staring at the bath. It appeared to be a one-piece bowl of black and gray flecked marble big enough for four people.

“It’s wonderful, isn’t it? They had to put in steel girders to take the weight.” He opened the tap. “Fabio, the owner, wanted something very special for a very special guest.”

“How special can you be?”

“Let’s say for instance, a desperate princess in a loveless life. Maybe she found true love here. I can’t say more because of course no such thing happened,” he said with a tweak of his brow.

She shook her head. These things were hard to take in.

“This is another world to someone like me. This is like being the ink on the page of a celebrity magazine—as if I’m in the story.”

“Shannon, the North Peckham Estate has its stories and secrets too. Royals and aristocrats are no different and certainly no better.

“Thank goodness for that,” she said with a knowing wink. Still watching him she began to undress. She knew she had his attention. She was fit, with a skin of deep olive silk that he longed for. She brushed her hands down over her white bra. He swallowed as his lust rose. She unhooked it and let it fall to reveal her aroused nipples. She was boiling him with desire. How she loved this. How long would he hold back? She could hear his breathing becoming more urgent and irregular. She held his eyes brazenly and slid her hand down to her panties, slipping inside to touch her sex.

“Shannon, for pity’s sake woman, you’ll make me come just looking at you,” he gasped.

“I’m a naughty minx aren’t I? I’m a naughty girl when I think of you,” she said, shamelessly fixing her gaze on his groin.

He swallowed hard and almost desperately undid his belt to free his hard upright cock. She saw at once that the tip was glistening wet with his juice. His seed was bursting to release into the heat of her belly. The sight of his desire shot a thrill through her. She had stopped her own touch but maybe she’d traveled too far. She’d only meant to fire his desire. She closed her eyes. A slight unstoppable tremor had begun. Suddenly he was kneeling in front of her. He pulled her panties aside and kissed a crashing wave of love from her nub and lips. She bent over him as his hot tongue licked her button to pulses of oblivion.”

“My angel, my angel,” he groaned into her flesh.

His lips were on her as if in the most tender searching for her soul, finding her sexual joy answering his gentle love and desire for her. She was helpless as he drew up her pleasure from her well of love for him, her convulsing cries thrilling him as the fruit of his touch. He kissed her stomach and stood, taking her in his arms. She could feel the ruthless steel of his cock pressing against her. She reached down and took it, desperate for him inside her. He sensed her desire as he lifted her, allowing her to wrap her legs around his waist. Then he filled her. She squealed as he entered. Orgasm engulfed her, mastering her will and being. His strength was unwavering. She was a weightless toy in his tireless arms. He kissed her lips as his movements beat in time with the rhythm of her need. He held his control, almost watching her. He was smiling and had still not released. He was showing her the power of his own teasing. She had surrendered to abandoned bliss. Before his own touch of the summit, he was taking in the view. The view was her joy that she helplessly spread before him.

“My turn to make you savor your desire, my beautiful temptress,” he said, lifting her from him and to her feet like a child. “We can’t waste the bath.”

They slipped into the smooth warm water. He was still erect. She moved to hold it. He pulled away with a laugh.

“My turn to tease,” he said.

“Spencer—I want it!’

“You’ll get it my love. But first you get some tender care.”

He picked up a small curved colored glass bottle. He pulled out the stopper and poured some oil into the palm of his hand. A scent of wonderful roses filled her senses. He slid behind her and began to massage the oil into her back and shoulders. His powerful hands slid under her arms to her breasts. The first tickle of no return zizzed in her nub. His cock was hard against her back.

“You feel desire, my lovely woman?”

“Yes,” she said, the deepness of his voice and the command of his hands  taking her over. She tried to say more but she became nothing but a voice groaning in sobs of pleasure. He was holding her as she flew with him.

“You remember when we were by the lake when we exchanged our ages. I fell for you in that very second. You said you wanted to give of yourself whatever I gave of myself. Can you remember the scent of lime and the breeze? Think of that moment of first love now.”

His hand slipped to her groove and moved sensuously to her clitoris. He soothed her lips against the soft woman love of her as he spoke.

“I remember your blue eyes and your smile….”

Her mind filled with the memory and of him, his maleness and deep brown eyes. Irresistible throbs of orgasm blended with the beauty of that day in her mind. A mental link between the abandon of sexual release and the powerlessness of the mind before the beauty of nature formed in her mind. The love from this man brought harmony which allowed her to see into some transcendental void of consciousness.

“I have a little mission,” he said.

He stepped out and held out a gloriously warm luxury towel. He patted her dry, lifted her and carried her to the bed.

“Lie down. Let me see your skin against the cream satin. I want a photo for my soul,” he said.

He toweled himself and looked at her. His eyes were warm with emotion. “I can’t believe you are mine and will be mine.”

He joined her on the bed, reached under the pillow and eased her up to a sitting position.

“Close your eyes.”

His lips kissed her back and neck. Something cold touched her chest.

“Voilà. Eccoci qua,” he said, getting up and standing back to look at her.

Glancing down she could see the unmistakable sparkle of diamonds and some slightly darker stones. She sprang from the bed and went to a mirror.

“My God, my God.” She was staring at the most beautiful piece of jewelry she had ever seen.

“What is it?”

“It’s a necklace.”

“Duh!’

“It’s white gold with pear-shaped rose diamonds.”

“It’s so lovely.”

“It is, now it’s on you.”

She stared at herself naked, the diamonds sparkling against her dusky skin.

“Can I keep it on?”

“Of course,” he said as he led her back to the bed and lay beside her. He raised himself on an elbow and softly kissed her lips. His other hand circled her belly teasing at the top of her groove. Then he touched her more deeply, his kiss drawing up her longing for him. She was already letting go. She pressed her hand over his, urging his hand down to open her. She felt the excited surge of his cock against her side as he explored her wetness. She thrilled him. How she loved his deep groan as he found her entrance. She knew now he couldn’t stop. His broad muscular shoulders were above her. She opened herself to him as he filled her. She could feel the relentless hard heat of his need. Her own tremor began as he quickened. She pulled his flexing buttocks to her, willing him to let go into the depth of her.”

“Come in me—You’re making me come—do it deep in me.”

He moaned a profound voiceless grunt of male release. She felt his spasms as his man cum jetted into her belly. Her own juices squeezed and swirled with his in a hot mix of perfect union. He found her lips as his shock waves shook his powerful body. Each flex of his cock thrust more of his seed into some place of her inner longing.

“I’m coming in you, my darling lover. I’m doing it inside you, my angel.”

His words tipped her over into a cry that merged with his male growl. As they resolved together he kissed her lips and held her eyes.

“No man has ever longed for a woman more or found such a woman,” he said.

“I love you, Spencer. I love you, I love you, I love you.”

A film of hot sweat joined them. She breathed in the scent of their male and female sex lust. Some beast in her gut drank it in. This was the musk of baby-maker man.

“I love you more than there is love in the love bank,” he said, moving to her side and pushing his hand through her hair.

“You’d better get an overdraft. I’m a greedy, exclusive, jealous girl,” she replied.

*******************************

Find out the rest of Shannon and Spencer’s steamy love story and action adventure in ‘Seduction of Dynasty’, available in print and e-book formats for all e-readers http://www.smarturl.it/webdynasty

Passion Patrol_Dynasty_v2 copy.jpg

 

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My hot luncheon date at Bloxington Manor with the Earl – a character interview from Dynasty

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Shannon's Law Post 4 photo Bloxington Manor

A character interview from Dynasty.

At last I could get out of central London. I’d had an early meeting with my best ever friend, Anna La Salle, Deputy Chief Commissioner at Scotland Yard. These days we’ve all gotten used to soldiers and cops with machine guns mingling with the tourists in Whitehall. I often stand back and reflect at the madness and sadness of it all. I’m excited to be heading south to interview a true aristocrat and sexy hunk, but I never forget the danger that the police and military face on these magnificent streets, every minute of every day.

As I get nearer to Bloxington Manor I’m feeling quite nervous. I mean this guy is a peer of the realm and hob-nobs with the royal family. I remember going to bed after I’d sent Police Constable Shannon Aguerri to meet him. I just didn’t know what I’d find in the morning. I mean she’s got a heart of gold but also a big mouth and a bit of attitude – well honestly a truck load of attitude. That’s why she’d been kicked out of inner city. It could have been disastrous for all three of us. Shannon’s got so much front she’ll just face up to anything. Spencer Chamberlain Knightsmith, eleventh earl of Bloxington is a refined English gentleman and accustomed to respect. At first I didn’t know him myself, he’s the kind of guy who risks becoming a cut out wealthy aristocrat. I sure didn’t expect Shannon to find him welding up an old racing car with his overalls open to the waist and almost certainly nothing at all underneath. The view wasn’t wasted on Shannon.

I pull up in front of the pillared front entrance. Two long haired retriever dogs scamper towards me across the gravel drive. They look wet from the long damp grass of the meadow that runs down to the lake. A commanding voice booms out.

“Jilly, Bobby. Stop!”

The animals freeze and sit. In the distance I see the six-feet-four bear-like form of Spencer striding along the long drive of horse chestnut trees golden in the autumn sun. He’s wearing a tweed jacket, corduroy trousers and of course green wellies. Now my heart is beating a bit harder. This is the first time I’ve spoken to him since I set Shannon on him and put mayhem into his life.

He takes my hand and kisses me on both cheeks, European style.

“Emma – you’ve not changed a bit and you’re always early for appointments.”

“I like to set the scene before I get into the action,” I say.

“What a good strategy. Top class idea. Look, let’s get inside. I hope you’ve got time for some cold cuts while we talk.”

“Cold cuts?” I’d forgotten this old-style aristo language.

“Luncheon – I’m going up to the City later for a board meeting so it’ll be great to combine question with digestion.”

He chortles at his obviously choreographed expression.

“You’ve turned into a bit of a poet Spencer.”

“Well to be honest I do it just to make Shannon groan. She talks at twice my speed and my old duffer act slows her down a bit.”

I’m beginning to see what I set loose on the poor chap. I wanted him to be happier but I’m still not sure if I did the right thing. I look at his rugged face and brown eyes. His hair is still overlong and a little more grey. He eases a commanding hand into my back and smiles. I love his posh accent.

“It’s truly wonderful to see you again. To be honest I never felt we’d got to know each other before, well you know, before Shannon.”

“I was always watching you from a distance, feeling jealous of her if I’m honest. When you started to do things out of character I just had to let you go.”

“Out of character?”

“Like singing Elvis songs to her and taking her to Venice to propose.”

“All that kind of surprised me. You know a man is like a box of toys or something. A woman can’t control what’s in the box but she can choose what she pulls out and what games she plays.”

I stare at him. This isn’t the man I’d abandoned to the mercy of someone like Shannon.

“You’re deeper Spencer.”

“It’s called happiness. When you’re unhappy in life that’s all you are. Unhappiness is a city state. Happiness is a continent.”

His voice is deep and confident. If he wasn’t married I definitely could you know…….

We walk through the entrance hall with the grand stairway and through the long gallery of paintings. The Orangery is still the same with its view of the chapel and cricket field.

Avington-Park-9164“So this is where King Charles the Second consorted with his mistress Nel Gwynn?” I ask.

“Yes, I love that sense of history. I tell Shannon she should read the story of his father, Charles the First and his wife Maria. Now that was a love story.”

“Does Shannon agree?”

“She says she’d rather write a bloody hot love story with me than read one. She lives very much in the present.”

I watch his face in profile as he gazes out of the window. He nods in acknowledgement of the warmth her words convey. He turns to me and gestures me to sit. A maid wheels in a trolley with plates of sandwiches, sliced meat, salads and a range of beautiful fruit. He sits opposite me, his eyes flick to mine. I want to hold them and he lets me linger just a little longer than he would have allowed before. His sexiness is more obvious, more experienced. I’m showing a generous cleavage with a ruby pendant teasing his focus. He’s ten years younger than me. I smile and enjoy the ping in my belly. His eyes come back up to mine and I can see he knows what I’m feeling. I need to get control here.

“Those guys out there – your fans, they want me to ask you some quite personal things. I’m a bit shy to be honest.”

“Me too, but look, there’s only you and me here and we probably like the same stuff.”

“OK – the first moment you saw Shannon, what did you think?”

“You want me to be honest?”

“Sure.”

“Well, we live in a world of sexy images. You get kind of numb and I’d turned off, shut down. When I saw her, even in that police uniform I had a surge like I was seventeen.”

“Do you think she knew?”

“Shannon knows everything. She just has to angle her hips a little, push out her lips a little. I covered things up by bumbling on about the car I was fixing. She moved half an inch into my personal space and, well I wanted to kiss her then and there. She knew.”

“You’ve got to tell me if you were wearing anything at all under those overalls?”

I’m afraid I’ve gone too far and embarrassed him. He looks down and then sweeps his eyes up my body to my face, as if he’s tracing the path with his finger. Oh no…things are getting, you know – possibly humid.

“No, it was a summer day.”

“You didn’t get to say that much. Did you think about her after she’d left?”

He smiles slowly and brings his hand to his chin. I’d followed Shannon’s actions that night so his answer would be news to me too. His expression is wicked and knowing. He speaks slowly in a slightly husky voice.

“Emma, we’ve not met for a while but there’s no one closer to me. Yes, I thought about her.”

“You…?”

“Yes, I took a shower and I couldn’t hold back.”

“Did you ever tell her?”

“No, I’m a English gentleman. I wanted her to want me as only that at the beginning. It seemed my most favorable angle”

Behind my eyes I roll a fantasy of this gorgeous gentle man letting go in his lonely ecstasy of pure sex, thinking of me. I knew what I’d be thinking of later. I take some food while Spencer stands and pours some mineral water. His groin is level with my eyes. I let myself imagine that shower scene, his groan, his release. Several times.

There is a voice in the kitchen out of sight. It’s a female and I know that south London accent.

We both stand as she almost scampers in, her golden skin and crazy black hair somehow shouting her personality without the need for words. Her blue eyes mixed with her complexion made me crazy with jealousy I admit. She was here now but I’d had Spencer to myself for a precious time. A time that would kindle a little heat in me when I needed some private warmth.

We hug. Her body is young and wiry compared to mine. I’d have no chance against her. She kisses Spencer’s lips and glances at me. A woman like me knows that growl from another woman.

“I hope he hasn’t been a sexy charmer. I don’t allow that sort of stuff in here and don’t forget I’m a cop.”

“He’s been a gentleman.”

“That’s what I feared. That’s what had me fooled. By the time I realized his tactic I had my clothes off and it was too late.”

Spencer has returned to his aristocratic look. Just once I caught his eyes on mine with a look of complicity. For sure this man – my man, made love to her but now I knew something of him she didn’t. You can’t ever explain to men how much things like that matter to a woman.

“When I last saw you here you were a regular cop. You’re a Chief Inspector now at Scotland Yard, ” I say.

“Yeah, bullshit will always baffle brains Emma – I know you’ve always worked on that principle.”

“Whoever told you I had any principles?” I say, wondering if her tone had a bit of edge.

Spencer laughs

“Ha! You walked into that one Shannon.”

“Look, it’s only catty cos you’re here giving Emma smiley eye stuff. Bugger off to work and bring me in some spontaneous red roses.”

Spencer rises, kisses her and walks the door. He glances back but avoids my eyes.

“I leave you girls to chat. Emma and I never got to say much and certainly nothing new.”

Once he was gone Shannon pours some tea and sits opposite to me where Spencer had been sitting.

“So, what did you talk about? If it wasn’t about me then lie – I know you make stuff up at the drop of your knickers.”

“Shannon – are you a bit jealous of women around Spencer?”

“Course not.”

I let it drop and told her the truth.

“We talked about you and what happened when you first met each other…….”

Mid afternoon I drive out through the gates and head back to the crazy sprawl and scramble of London. I still feel turned on and you know, damp and naughty. I push a love song compilation CD into the player. I’d be at my flat in Chelsea alone for at least an hour before my man came home. Maybe I’d scratch my my itch of lust on him when he came through the door. Did I want to share that heat with another man? Maybe I’d take a shower with Spencer. Yeah, it’s a private affair and he’s my man after all!

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Shannon Aguerri

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Passion in Paris – an extract from the romance novel ‘Combat’

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A Steamy 'Sexcerpt'for (2)

… with no censorship.

(stop reading now if you are sensitive or under 18!)

A clip from my action adventure romance novel, ‘Combat‘.

Setting the scene:

Anna is an Interpol Detective. Freddie is a boxer, gearing up for a world title fight.  They meet, by chance in a shared London cab during a downpour. There’s an undeniable spark and they hook up for a drink. Their relationship begins.  But Anna hasn’t told him the truth about her life, she’s enjoying a flirtation with a stranger, without the stigma of being a cop.  Then, by coincidence, with his forthcoming bout, Freddie is revealed as a possible key to a major investigation into mafia match-fixing. Anna’s bosses encourage her to go undercover and use her relationship with Freddie to find out what’s going on. She’s already fallen for him and hardly needs any encouragement. Can she do her duty and still keep control of her feelings?

Freddie has been doing some business deals in Paris and has invited Anna to join him there. Since Anna has been ordered to stay close and ‘get to know him better’, how could she possibly refuse?

Taken from Chapter 11.

Location: Paris, France, Boulevard St Michel.

“They took the elevator to his fifth-floor penthouse. As the heavy paneled door opened she saw into a huge lounge, one wall of which was filled with leather-bound books. An enormous French window opened out onto a balcony looking out over the rooftops of Paris to the Seine. Freddie faded up the mellow wall lights allowing her to see the sumptuous blue carpet and what looked like an original Renoir hanging over an ornate Louis XV fireplace. Antique chairs, clocks and ornaments were tastefully displayed around the room. A large gilt-framed mirror reflected a magnificent chandelier hanging from the ceiling.

“It’s so, so lovely,” she sighed as he closed the door behind her with a heavy, quality laden click.

She turned to him as he came to her, feeling his strong arms possess and caress her. Her knees physically buckled. She kissed him deeply, her tongue searching shamelessly for his. As he responded she could feel him hardening against her belly. She curled her leg behind his and pressed her longing secret lips against his tight rippled thigh.

He eased his head back and looked at her.

“You are so beautiful Anna – I can’t believe this cruel world has allowed me to find you.”

She lay her head on the contoured bulge of his pecs as he stroked her hair.

“Champagne?” he asked, “this is Paris and it is from my own vineyard… you can’t say no.”

“I’d love it – but can I get out of these old London and airplane clothes?”

He let her go and she dived into the en suite power shower. She was pleased to see that all the materials were absolutely male. The water revived and enlivened her as it cascaded onto her aroused breasts. She reached down, only too aware of the pleasure of her own touch. She stepped out, spotting a white silk dressing gown on the heated towel rail. She put it on, immediately jolted by his scent and presence. Across the back spread the logo ‘Lonsdale’ and the words ‘Le Professeur – Champion du Monde’. She wrapped it around her, thrilling to its aromatic attraction. She pulled up the hood and breathed in his pure clean yet animal scent. Tying it, she walked back into the lounge, making her own show of jabbing and punching like a boxer getting in to the ring.

Freddie was standing at the window. He saw her reflection and turned to her with a broad adoring smile.

“Wow – you look fantastic,” he said, smiling and handing her a crystal fluted glass of champagne from the table.

“I love this gown – it smells of you.”

“Yeah – sweat blood and tears my love… I wore it at my last fight – you keep it, I could never make it look so good.”

“Then you’ve lost it baby,” she squealed, “I’ll never give it back.”

“Perhaps I’ll have to keep you on,” he said with a soft smile, “here’s to everything that lies ahead”.

They touched glasses and drank.

“God! That’s good!” she said.

“Vintage Chateau La Salle – just for the boss and his lady,” he smiled.

The delicious anticipation of his touch sent seismic thrilling waves through her body. She stood by his side at the window, fighting to maintain a veneer of sophistication. She finished her drink and he stepped back to the bottle and poured them both another. She drank quickly – too quickly – she knew, feeling a glow as her inhibitions burned away like mist in the morning sun. He had come to stand behind her. She felt him rock hard and urgent against her lower back. A jolt of pleasure rocked her as his lips and the teasing lick of his tongue found her neck and his teeth nibbled at her skin. One hand cupped her breast and gently brushed her nipple. She groaned and leaned back against him as his other hand ran down across her belly into the furrow of her moist core. Slowly he began to massage her inner lips against her firm little button, circling lightly yet more and more urgently. Still he licked her neck in the same rhythm, as his other hand matched the pulse of her passion and he gently stroked her nipple. The three pulses of lust began to overwhelm her and at first she tried to hold back as she felt her orgasm building and piling like thunder clouds against a pure blue sky on a summer’s day.

“Freddie – what are you doing to me – I can’t hold back.”

“Let go my angel,” he whispered huskily, “be a woman for me – be my woman, ma belle.”

Spasms of joy rushed through her as she let go, sensing his need for her to abandon herself totally to him. Beyond her, the Parisian night blended into her consciousness and her surrender to pleasure. He held her as she tilted up her lips to his and kissed him in shudders of ecstasy.

“My sweet baby, my sweet soft baby,” he murmured as she grunted out his name in a blur of love and animal passion.

As she subsided for a moment she turned to face him, kissing him deeply. His desire for her was by now all consuming and he felt a desperation for his own release. A trace of her woman scent gripped his senses. He lifted her in his steel arms as if she had no weight, finding her lips with his. She felt herself carried to a huge antique four-poster bed. He gasped at her beauty. Her black hair spread carelessly on the cream satin pillow. He feasted his eyes on the supple softness of her body, quickly removing his clothes and lying alongside her, moving his mouth to her breast and his hand to her gorgeous wet soft valley. The feel of her thrilled him as she opened herself to his touch.

She reached out to him. He was hard and massive and twitched as her hand slowly drew him back to reveal his longing flesh. He groaned but fought to hold back. He wanted to plunge into her haven of warm giving love – for his love for her to unite with her body. His finger slipped gently into her as he turned to move above her. She still held him as he found her entrance and felt the parting of her delicious flooding lips. At last he slid into her, pushing to the limit of her soft depths.

She sighed as his power, length and thickness filled and possessed her. He nudged at the roof of her being somewhere deep in her spirit. Some beast had been released from captivity as his movements touched switches of pleasure and lust. She gripped his buttocks, thrilling at their relentless steel tension. She began to buck upwards in ecstasy as waves of uncontrolled shudders swept through her. She let out some animal sound as she saw his broad shoulders above her and gasped in the scent of his male body musk.

He felt the pulsating grip of her joy beneath him as he moved slowly inside her soft soaking body. The awareness of his power over her pumped him harder and harder as he began to climb towards the top of an irresistible slope.

She sensed his growing need and the tension excited her beyond control. As he pressed his lips to her neck groaning “mon amour – mon amour,” she trembled against him as surges of orgasm seemed to drench her into senselessness.

And now he had reached the summit of his climb. He bit tenderly at her neck tasting her flesh and her sweat. He began to let himself go, feeling the longing sweet agony of need to release. He was gripping her and filling her and she was holding him, pulling him in deeply, pulling in the male of him to her sweet female love flower.

She felt the ecstatic squeezing and pumping of his muscles inside and outside of her as his seed flowed and jetted into her hot molten core, mixing with her own pulsing jolts of their shared climax. He heard her helpless cry as he groaned her name and gave up control to the power of love and the passion of beasts.

She felt his weight as he subsided onto her breasts. Still he was inside her with the last aftershocks of his release still shuddering through him, as if he were a great tree crashed across her as the storm finally passed. Their bodies were damp with sweat and lust. Their scent and fluids mixed into mellowness in the pale thin light of the room. He was the first to speak.

“Anna – my love – there is no other woman like you – I just lose myself in you.”

He lay on his back and she turned on her side placing her leg between his.

“You are my man, Freddie. I’m out of control too with all this but I can’t stop,” she said seriously.

“I never want you to stop… but maybe one day you will wake up and see that you don’t know me…”

“I know enough – no one can ever know everything,” she said calmly.

She rested her head on his chest as he stroked her hair. Idly she ran her hand over the ridged iron six pack of his stomach muscles. He was beautiful – more beautiful than anything she could ever have imagined. His olive skin was like silk and smelled of male mixed with summer sun and sex.

With an athletic swivel he lay her over on her side and spooned into her back, whispering butterfly kisses onto her shoulders.

“You are my baby for ever – my angel,” he murmured as they drifted into warm cuddled sleep. ”

END OF EXCERPT.

Grab a copy of the complete book here.

VIDEO TEASER FOR COMBAT

Anna’s time in Paris with Freddie was a pivotal point in their relationship. Many readers have also enjoyed these ‘Parisian moments’ in Combat   and highlighted them on their Kindles. I love Paris – it’s my favorite city in the world,  so I used these highlighted phrases  to create a video monologue – as if Anna were reminiscing about their time in Paris.

The video was made when this book was called ‘Knockout!’. You’ll notice the old cover artwork at the end. Gurus advised us that the title and old cover didn’t work,  so we  re-marketed it as ‘Combat’.  I think romance readers like a bit of action and adventure and could cope quite well with the original book name….

I’d love to know what you think… which title do you think works best?

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