Her Two Lovers

“Hell, he might have had an inkling, but he also wanted to get in your pants. And I can’t say as I blame him. I’m thinkin’ the same thing right about now.”

“Yeah?” Her body responded with chilled skin, a heated pussy. Moisture dribbled between her legs. Mere words from Dale could turn her on. “After the night we just had, you’re ready for more?”

“With you? Always.” He seared her lips with his.

Her hands crept over his muscled chest. She fingered his hard nipples and then rested her hand over his heart. It beat in synchrony with her own.

When he broke the kiss, he wrenched the towel from her body and slid his fingers into her slick folds. “Mmm. So wet for me. Already so wet.”

She quivered at his touch, and then removed the terry towel from around his waist. His cock stood at attention—hard, long and magnificent. She dropped to her knees and flicked her tongue over the salty head.

“Wet,” she echoed. “That’s exactly how I’m going to give it to you, cowboy. The way you like it. Slow and wet.”

Her Two Lovers: Primal Instinct

Primal Instinct

The scent was unmistakably male.

Two bodies crushed hard against her while Erin leaned against the bar, waiting for the bartender. She had planned to spend most of the week hiding away in the small cabin she’d rented in the Rocky Mountains, but after two days of seclusion, she visited the clubhouse of the rustic resort for a drink.

She breathed in the spicy aroma. Beach. Leather. A touch of cinnamon. Undeniable male musk. Primal.

A year of involuntary celibacy—were all thirty-something men married, gay, or brainless boobs?—had prompted Erin to take a week of vacation and embark on a soul-searching pilgrimage.

Men. Who needed them? She’d get to know herself. Get to know what made Erin Monroe tick and contemplate a life of single solitude.

The enticing virile fragrance, not to mention the warmth of two hot bodies, wasn’t helping her cause.

“Can I help you?” the bartender asked.

Erin’s skin prickled. She looked to her left, and then to her right. Four slightly slanted masculine eyes—two blue and clear, two dark and smoky—burned into her.

“She’ll have what we’re having,” the dark-eyed man said.

She turned. “Excuse me?” A mug of stout sat in front of him. “I don’t drink beer. So no, thank you.”

“Whatever you want then, honey,” he said. “It’s on us.”

“For sure,” Blue Eyes said.

He edged his body closer to hers, until not a part of her wasn’t touching him. Erin tingled. What the hell was going on? The invasion seemed far too intimate, though they were all fully clothed and in a public place.

She warmed with embarrassment over how she was dressed. Sweats and a tank top. Clingy, yes, and her body was pretty good thanks to daily yoga. But sweats? She was hardly clothed to socialize. Even less to pick up men. The two men, though, looked gorgeous in loose faded jeans. Dark Eyes wore a black polo, Blue Eyes a faded gray T-shirt. Both sported finely sculpted shoulders and arms. How might they feel beneath her fingertips?

Remember the purpose of this self-imposed mini-retreat. Be strong, Erin.

“What’s your name, beautiful?” Blue Eyes drew his words out almost like a purr. His long finger drifted over her hand on the bar.

Erin edged her hand away from his warmth. A sense of loss washed over her. She ignored his question and faced the woman tending bar. “A gin and tonic, please.” She fumbled in her handbag for money.

Blue Eyes threw a twenty onto the counter. “Keep the change,” he said.

Erin extended her hand to reach for the bill before the bartender took it.

Blue Eyes covered her hand with his. “Please, let us.”

A spark shot through Erin at the contact.“But I don’t even know you.”