Take the Heat

Playing dead altered her state of consciousness so drastically that the friction of his cock in her cunt got her hotter with every thrust. His chest sat on hers like a rock, like a weight, driving the breath from her lungs. Though she wasn’t moving, her mind whirled. She felt dizzy enough to fall over, and she was already lying still.

It wasn’t just Sean’s motion that threw her senses into a tailspin. Tiny waves crashed like ocean tides against her bare skin. Birds in the trees sang at a hundred decibels. The squirrels stomped through the underbrush like elephants. Everything overwhelmed her, but nothing more so than Sean’s hands as they looped around her throat.

“Tamryn,” he moaned. “Who would do a thing like this? Wrap his hands around your little neck and tighten his grip? Strangle you until you were dead?”

Lucy wasn’t sure if his grip was really as tight as it felt, or if her hyperbolizing imagination just experienced it that way. Her belly spun and tightened as he drove his cock again, again, again, grunting with every thrust. She felt like she’d just stepped off that twirly-whirly playground ride that had spun her in circles as a kid. That was her first memory of feeling any kind of arousal. The twirly-whirlies. That’s what they’d called the sensation. Unoriginal but, to them, it represented joy and fear all wrapped into one.

Now Lucy had it bad. Her head felt loopy, though she hadn’t moved in—how long? Time had fallen out of her grasp. Had they been fucking for minutes or hours? She had absolutely no idea.

“It hurts,” she heard herself gasp.

Sean’s thighs trembled against hers. His cock throbbed inside her cunt. He held his hands around her neck as her eyes rolled back. Light filled her mind as the late-afternoon sun gleamed off the lake. She’d never seen anything so beautiful, and her eyes weren’t even open.

His hands fell away from her throat, but his weight drove her deeper into the sand as his body relaxed. Prickly stubble dug into her cheek like razor blades. His breath came hot and fast, hers cold and slow. He’d gone in like a lion. She’d come out like a lamb. Her skin tingled, like tiny fairy feet were dancing all over it. Lake water had filled her pussy, but it rejected everything that wasn’t Sean’s cock—that still pulsed inside her flesh.

“You didn’t make a sound,” Sean said. “I thought you might…”

Lucy’s mind worked slow as molasses, considering responses, rejecting them. She felt heavy and light, both at once. Part of her sank into the sand while another part rose to the heavens. She couldn’t bring herself to speak.

But if she could, she’d have said to him, This is the place where poor Tamryn was killed. She’d have realized her mother knew a thing or two about character, and said, I know how she felt when she died.

Thank you!

Dear readers,

Thank you for reading Take the Heat!

The criminal mind has always fascinated me, so putting this anthology together has been a blast. You can help spread the word about Take the Heat by:

· Telling a friend about it! Word of mouth is the best way to share books.

· Lending it to a friend! This book is lending enabled on Amazon, so please do lend it to another reader who loves dark books.

· Leaving a review! Reviews help readers discover new books.

I love exploring dark impulses within the realm of romance, and I know my readers do too. That’s why I’m so excited to share my upcoming release, titled Prisoner, which was co-written with my friend and amazing author New York Times Bestseller Annika Martin. You can turn the page for an excerpt…

Yours,

Skye Warren

Excerpt from Prisoner:

Heavy bars close behind me with a clang. I feel the sound in my bones. A series of mechanical clicks hint at an elaborate security mechanism beneath the black iron plating. I knew this would happen--had anticipated and dreaded it—but my breathing quickens with the knowledge that I am well and truly trapped.

“Can I help you?”

I whirl to face the administrative window. Empty. With a tentative step forward, I peek inside to where a heavyset woman in security guard uniform stares at her screen.

“Hi,” I say, pasting on a smile. “My name is Abigail Winslow, and I’m here to—”

“Two forms of identification.”

“Oh, well, I already filled out the paperwork at the front desk. A

nd showed them my IDs.”

“This isn’t the front desk, Ms. Winslow. This is the east wing desk, and I need to see two forms of identification.”