When it comes down to love or duty, pick a side—and pray your heart survives.
Death exists for one purpose and one purpose only: to sever the life-threads of the living. She does her job with pride and an unwavering commitment. Nothing ruffles her. Until she encounters Patrick Watkins. The Australian lifeguard pushes all her buttons—and makes her tailbone itch like crazy. And when her tailbone itches, it means trouble is brewing. Big trouble.
Ven’s gut tells him that Death is taking aim at his kid brother. He should know—he died and was turned vampire while trying to prevent another failed murder-attempt eighteen years ago. Patrick is meant to do something important in the world, and Ven will do anything to keep him safe. Even take on Death herself. In more ways than one.
As far as Patrick’s concerned, the whole thing is a load of bull. But what if everything Death tells him turns out to be true? How is he expected to save mankind from the worst fate of all—the Apocalypse? Especially when all he can think about is how quickly he’s falling in love with the most feared Horseman of them all…
Warning: This book contains enough heresy to shame the Devil, more scorching sex than one person can handle, Oh, and lots of Australian colloquialism. A bloody lot of Australian colloquialism
They faced each other. Naked. Almost touching. Their bodies so close Patrick was sure he could feel Fred’s heartbeat vibrating through his chest, down into the pit of his stomach and lower. He reveled in the sensation, a connection beyond the physical. With each thump his erection grew longer, thicker, his own heartbeat harder, faster. An image of Fred flashed through his mind—her long legs wrapped around his hips, her belly pressed to his, her nails digging into his shoulders, her cunt squeezing his thrusting cock—and he knew immediately it was the future he saw. Five minutes, five hours, five years in the future he didn’t know. God willing, all three.
He pulled in a deep breath, taking her unique fragrance into his soul. Spices, musk and secret power. Jesus, he was addicted already.
The thought drove him to act.
He buried his hands in her hair once more, crushed her mouth with his and jerked her to his body with a force he knew was neither gentle or chaste.
Her breasts flattened against his chest, her mons ground against his cock. She snaked her arms around his back, pulling herself harder into his savage embrace. Her tongue lashed his, a battle of passion and lust where neither was the defeated. Dragging his lips from the invasion, he journeyed her jawline and neck with his teeth, nipping at her flesh in tiny bites that drew a low whimper with each one. He liked the sound. It spoke clearly of the desire and pleasure he met upon her body.
Continuing his exploration, he tasted her collarbone, the little dip at the base of her neck before charting the curve of her shoulder, his fists still knotted in her hair, holding her captive. She tasted so good. Like a hidden mystery on a warm summer night.
“By the Powers, Patrick.” Her throaty murmur tickled his lips and he lifted his head to gaze into her face. “This isn’t…” She didn’t finish, instead she closed her eyes and rolled her hips against his.
The heat of her sex melted into his erection, incinerating the brief flare of doubt her words caused. He jerked forward, thrusting his cock to her mons. She was all softness and hardness and musky heat and he wanted to be buried in her more than he wanted to draw breath.
If he didn’t do so soon, he would come all over her belly. Of that he had no doubt.
As if she knew his very predicament, Fred moved slightly on the sofa, shifting her weight so as to spread her legs without breaking contact—even a hair’s width—with his groin. The change in position allowed his cock, so hard and swollen it felt like steel, to ram against the wet lips of her pussy, her juices painting his stretched flesh instantly.
He growled, arching his back to shove forward, parting her folds with the rim of his distended cockhead. He stroked back and forth, gripping her hair, staring into her eyes. Fucking her but not. Torturing the tiny button of her clit with each pass, rolling his cock over and along it with each stab until he felt her muscles coil and her pussy weep.
The delicate aroma of her pleasure filled his breath. She sank her nails into his shoulders, eyes beyond blue now, shining with an iridescent white glow that would have made him nervous before but now only made him burn.
Raking one hand down her back, he cupped her arse, squeezed one firm butt cheek with fierce strength before jerking her harder to him. The sudden change granted him exactly what he wanted. Her legs spread wider, her damp folds wider still. He felt her sex suck greedily at his cock and then, with one brutal, savage thrust, he was there—her tight muscles enveloping him, embracing him. Surrounding him.
Fred threw back her head, spine bowing, nails puncturing his flesh. A cry as raw and primitive as any Patrick could imagine burst from her throat, shattering the very air around them.
She bucked into him, took him deeper, deeper, her stomach and breasts and nipples sliding over his sweat-slicked skin, her arms holding him to her with such strength he could feel the tremble in her muscles.
“Oh, claim me, Patrick! Claim me!”
Lexxie Couper started writing when she was six and hasn’t stopped since. She’s not a deviant, but she does have a deviant’s imagination and a desire to entertain readers with her words. Add the two together and you get erotic romances that can make you laugh, cry, shake with fear or tremble with desire. Sometimes all at once.
When she’s not submerged in the worlds she creates, Lexxie’s life revolves around her family, a husband who thinks she’s insane, a indoor cat who likes to stalk shadows, and her daughters, who both utterly captured her heart and changed her life forever.
Having no idea how old she really is, Lexxie decided to go with 27 and has been that age for quite some time now. It’s the best of both worlds – old enough to act mature, young enough to be silly.
Lexxie lives by two simple rules – measure your success not by how much money you have, but by how often you laugh, and always try everything at least once. As a consequence, she’s laughed her way through many an eyebrow raising adventure.
Contact Lexxie at firstname.lastname@example.org follow her on Twitter.
Buy it here: Samhain Publishing, Barnes and Noble, Amazon Kindle, Fictionwise.
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