Sex Scene Championship Round 30 : Samanthe Beck ( @SamantheBeck1 ) vs Tracey Alvarez ( @TraceyAlvarezNZ )

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We have 50 eBooks to giveaway (some of which are listed on the Intro post here), 2 signed paperbacks, 2 INT paperbacks, 4 Gift Cards (Amazon & All Romance, a necklace, some pens and more swag to give away.

So for our next round we have Samanthe Beck vs Tracey Alvarez

Execerpt One –

Samanthe Beck – Best Man With Benefits ©

Sophie stood there with her arms braced, her legs parted, panting like she’d just stepped off the treadmill, while he took his sweet time rolling the condom on. When he finally came up behind her again, she jumped like he’d zapped her with a live wire.

“Shh. Relax. Keep your eyes open.”

“Oh, God, Logan. Please…” She forced her eyes open and met his gaze in the mirror.

“Don’t look at me. Look at yourself.”

She did as he asked, and watched her mouth fall open and her skin flush pink as he guided himself between her legs, parting them wider so he could ease in. But he stopped much too soon, giving her only the smooth, blunt tip while her body pleaded to be stretched and filled.

She pursed her lips together to hold back a sob and arched her back to coax him deeper, but he put his hands on her hips and held her still. Greedy interior muscles quivered and clenched impatiently, and her sob turned into a tortured moan.

“Look in the mirror. Tell me what you see.”

“I see…” A stranger. An uninhibited woman chasing fulfillment without apology or hesitation.

He brought his hand around front and cupped her between her legs. Her whole body jerked as the tension coiled almost painfully tight.

“Tell me.”

“Oh, God. Logan, I don’t know…”

His quick, ruthless fingers danced up, down, and around the tight bundle of nerves at the center of her universe, circling…grazing, but never giving her the exquisite relief of full contact. Meanwhile he teased her from behind, barely penetrating while she clutched and squirmed for more. “You do know. Say it.”

She shook her head and caught their reflection in the glass shower enclosure. Was that woman really her? The one leaning over the counter with her back in such a deep, graceful arch her breasts actually appeared taut and upswept in profile? Her waist looked long and impossible narrow. The pose forced her onto her tiptoes, which made her butt look high and perfectly curved to fit in the chiseled cradle of Logan’s lap. His big, strong hand gripped her hip, and made her thigh seem ridiculously slim. She wore a slightly agonized expression she couldn’t remember ever seeing on her own face, but the woman staring back at her could have graced the banner of the Eve’s Closet landing page. The sight made her straining muscles tremble. “I look—” She couldn’t utter the words, so she resorted to begging. “Please. I’m so close, it’s painful. I can’t stand anymore…I need—”

“You need to say it.” He wrapped his arm high around her torso, creating a shelf to support her heaving breasts. “Say the words and I’ll take away the pain.”

The dark-haired vixen in the mirror had a mind of her own. She whispered, “I’m beautiful.”

Logan drove into her—deep and relentless—and the agony splintered into a million points of sharp, shimmering pleasure. Her head lolled forward and she made a high-pitched, inarticulate noise as the room spun. And still he continued thrusting like he wouldn’t be satisfied until every atom in her body scattered like dust.

“Say. It. Again.” The slap of their bodies slamming together punctuated each word. Her arms trembled from the strain of holding herself up, and she struggled to get command of her vocal cords.

“I’m beautiful,” she bit out, and threw her head back to watch as he lifted her hips, changed the angle, and plunged again—eyes closed, jaw clenched, his face a mask of concentration.

“Again,” he rasped. “Say it.” He tugged her hips back a little more, forcing her into a deeper bend, and thrust once…twice… She screamed as the first soul-racking convulsion shook her, followed by another, and another, in waves so fast and devastating she couldn’t get ahead of them.

His head tipped back; his fingers dug into her hips. Every muscle in his body went taut. “I want to hear you scream the words as I come.”

“I-I’m—” She couldn’t catch her breath.

“Beautiful,” he finished for her, and she watched in helpless awe as his big, solid body shuddered under the force of his orgasm. For the first time in her life, she felt like the words might just be true.

She stepped out of the panties. Forty bucks of satin and lace tossed without hesitation, and did she care? Not when his fingers spread apart her wetness and slipped inside. Not as a calloused thumb grazed her swollen core and had her writhing mindlessly.

He nudged her thighs wider. “Spread your legs, baby, and hold on.”

“Oh, God. Ben.”

She clutched at him, fisting handfuls of his hair as he dipped his head and put his mouth on her. His wicked mouth licked and nibbled and turned her to warm mush, melting her like ice stroked over hot skin. Sunlight streamed through the skylight, and she closed her eyes, unbearable pleasure shimmering in outward spirals from the swirl of his tongue, the long, sure strokes of his fingers.

“Please.”

She wasn’t beyond begging, especially when he pulled her gently to her knees in front of him.

“Greedy girl.”

He kissed her, and the taste of her passion on his lips had her quaking in his arms.

“Not fair.” She fumbled again with the diabolical buttons on his shirt. “One of us still has too many clothes on.”

He chuckled, a low, male rumble that increased the wetness between her legs tenfold. Merda! Those buttons—Kezia yanked the shirt edges apart, and buttons pinged across the wood floor. She’d sew them back on another day, but she needed—more than she needed her next breath—to touch him.

Her fingers trembled. Nerves or desperation? She wasn’t sure, but she splayed a hand on his bare chest. The man was fever hot, like a furnace roared to life underneath his sleekly sexy skin. Kezia traced a nail around his flat, light-brown nipple. A pulse bumped in his throat, and his breathing grew ragged.

“You’ve no idea how much I want you,” he said.

Judging by his sizable, denim-covered bulge, she had a pretty good clue.

Her hand skimmed across his skin to pop open his jeans button and Ben’s taut stomach jumped. She made short work of the zipper, peeling away the denim to reveal fitted black boxer shorts. The tip of his erection peeked out of the waistband’s elastic. Hottest advertisement for male underwear she’d ever seen. She eased his boxers down, and he stood thick and proud against a sprinkle of dark hair. Wrapping her fingers around him, she stroked the hard length.

Kezia was ready—could probably come by thinking about him inside her—but all she wanted was to touch. To slide her fist up and down his silky skin, to cup his balls drawn tight to his body in arousal, to take him in her mouth and devour him until he begged to surrender.

She ducked down, the flicker of her tongue along his shaft wrenching a sound from his throat. Good. He should pay for the exquisite torture she’d just suffered. Ben ground out her name, the tightness in his tone suggesting paper-thin control. Strong fingers tangled in her hair as his hips jerked forward. The salty-sweet taste of him sizzled through her body, scorched all inhibitions to ashes.

She pulled back to gauge his reaction.

Hooded eyes, glazed soft with passion, stared down at her. “You need to stop now or we won’t make it to a bed.”

They wouldn’t make it to a bed—they’d be lucky to make it onto the Oriental rug. Ben pulled her close, fitting them, finally, skin to skin. The damp length of him pulsed against her stomach. He kissed her mindless again and lowered her to the rug.

“Don’t you dare move.” He reached for the small box she’d dropped. His gaze flicked to her. “Forget that. Touch yourself until I suit up.”

“Ben!” His name joined a startled laugh on her lips.

“Pretty please.”

How could she resist him? Easy. She couldn’t. Kezia slid her fingers down her stomach, gliding them into slickness and stroking her swollen flesh.

“Baby, this’ll fuel my fantasies for years. You’re so fucking beautiful.”

Kezia closed her eyes with a smile. “Hurry.”

Cellophane crinkled, and then the box plunked to the ground. Foil tore and he returned, running roughened hands up her legs and moving her out of the way.

“My turn.” He caressed her once, twice, his thumb gliding over her core.

Her eyes flickered open. A sensory overload of golden-tanned man-flesh, his jeans riding dangerously low on lean hips. “Ah—your clothes?”

“No time. We’re in a hurry.” He grinned at her and surged forward, covering her with his big body.

His smile. One glimpse of it and she was a goner. She dragged him down by the lapel of his shirt, kissing him with every pent-up desire, every second of lust-filled agony she’d spent imagining this moment.

Bracing on forearms either side of her head, Ben placed an open-mouthed kiss on her throat before he nailed her with a hot, unwavering gaze. He pulsed at her entrance, pushing an inch inside her because she was slippery with need.

They sucked in a ragged breath together—then another, as his hips thrust forward. Her body stretched around his thickness, a delicious fullness so all-encompassing that she whimpered as he ground into her again. Nothing mattered but the connection between them.

A slow dance sped into a frantic coupling, her nails lanced into his broad back, urging him faster, harder, a wordless order to take her higher and higher.

She flew—soaring out of herself and into the deep blue sky. Everything focused on the pleasure flinging her over the edge. Strong arms caught her as she cried out, his face buried in her neck as he continued to move within her, each stroke demonstrating raw power restrained. She could only hold fast until he shuddered, following her over with a muffled groan.