The heat in my books is usually generated by the characters in the bedroom. Or the kitchen. Or wherever they decide to get it on. In this scene from Tangled Past, my characters had to deal with their chemical combustion as well as the “damned Texas heat.”
Sarah has been married to Jackson a few months now, living in the home of Jackson’s boss and former lover Nate. The tension between the three of them has been growing, and tonight, on a sultry summer night, Jackson sets the scene for a decision that will change their lives forever.
It’s an adult excerpt, so you must be 18 and over to read it. (I’ve always wondered — does that really warn people away or make you more interested?)
Copyright 2011 Leah Braemel
Jackson’s shirt clung to him as he trudged onto the porch where Sarah sat, her sewing abandoned beside her. “Too hot to even sew, huh?”
“The light’s gone, and I don’t want to bring out a lantern because it’ll attract all the bugs.”
She lifted her head when he bent down to kiss her. As their lips touched, he cupped her breast, her nipple peaking beneath the thin cotton gown she wore. In this heat, she’d not only given up wearing her corset the way he’d asked, but her bloomers and chemise as well. The thought of only a single layer of fabric standing between his skin and hers had his cock lengthening.
When she moved to stand he stopped her. “I’m gonna go inside and wash up. You stay out here and enjoy the breeze.”
He grabbed the bucket of water she kept handy and washed up in record time. A quick check showed Nate, shirtless, at the desk in his study, poring over the farm accounts. Thank heavens Nate liked that type of thing, because numbers had never been his strong point. Show him a cow having problems giving birth, or ask him the best way to stack hay, that he could handle. Hell, he’d rather be shoved in a stall between a stallion and a mare in heat than face a wiggly column of numbers.
He dashed upstairs and changed into a clean shirt and lighter cotton trousers before returning to the porch.
A glance over the pasture confirmed there were no hands lingering in the fields, and he couldn’t see anyone in the barn. If he couldn’t see them, he doubted they could see Sarah sitting in the deep shadows of the porch. But even so, he led her into the kitchen and seated her in the rocking chair she kept by the now cool ashes of the hearth. Once she was in place, he closed the door and locked it, then shuttered the windows.
He held up his suspenders and let them dangle from his fingers. “Remember what we talked about the other night, about me tying you up? And giving Nate a show?”
Her tiny gasp and the way her tongue flicked out to lick her lips gave him all the proof he needed that she knew exactly what he wanted, and would get as much enjoyment from it.
“Stand up and turn around, Sarah.”
When she stood to obey him, the fabric over her breasts tightened, highlighting that her nipples had drawn even tighter. He stepped behind her and ground his erection into her ass as he cupped her breast, thumbing the hard buds.
He wrapped the suspenders around her wrist. After a moment’s consideration, he slid the rocking chair around so even if a farmhand did happen to wander out of the barn and saw a shadow on the kitchen curtains, they wouldn’t be able to see what she was doing.
Confident there’d be no unwanted witnesses, he tossed the pillow she’d been sitting on onto the floor by his feet, then took her place in the rocker. “Get on your knees, Sarah.”
Even with her hands tied behind her, she sank to her knees with the grace of a dancer.
“Scootch closer, so you don’t have to lean so much.” Once she was in position, he unbuttoned the placket of his trousers and drew out his cock. “Suck it down. You know how I like it.”
He couldn’t stop the groan when her lips closed around the engorged head. She engulfed him in moist warmth, her tongue pressing on all the right places, applying just the right amount of suction to draw his balls up against his body. He wrapped her braid around his fist and held her still, giving himself a chance to regain the control he was so rapidly losing.
Even held in place, her tongue continued to swirl around the head, to flatten along the length of his shaft and press him against the roof of her mouth. The quiet squeak of the kitchen door hinges warned him that Nate had joined them.
The light from the oil lamp glistened off the sweat of Nate’s chest, accentuating the delineation of his muscles. Using the crutches then the cane had built up his arms and shoulders until it looked like he could lift a heifer with little strain. The cotton fly of his trousers was drawn tight over his erection, and his gaze was locked on Sarah’s mouth.
“We’ve got company, darlin’,” Jackson whispered, though he didn’t take his eyes off Nate.
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