A sexy new standalone Romantic Comedy is here from authors Sarina Bowen and Tanya Eby, and I have a sexy little taste for you.
Excerpt
Dinner is a blast. I eat my weight in turkey with all the fixings, while Ash watches nervously. The Power family indulges in all the usual Thanksgiving foods, except there’s also green tomato chow served with a slice of tourtiere, a spiced meat pie.
Canadian Thanksgiving. Who knew?
After dinner I wash dishes with Mr. Power, and we compare all our favorite golf courses. I can’t help but like her parents and be a little envious of Ash. This is what a healthy, normal family looks like. A warm house, soft lighting, great food, and they’re actually here. So unlike my own family.
Talking to Ash’s parents is easy. Talking to Ash…is less easy. If only she’d give in to the inevitability of us.
“I like your folks,” I say an hour later as I lie in bed.
“Braughsntt. Rawrrkakt,” she says from the bathroom. She’s brushing her teeth.
“When you and I are married, your parents and I will get along great.”
I hear a choking sound from the bathroom. Then violent spitting, followed by rinsing. “I’m not even going to dignify that with a response,” she says eventually.
Grinning up at the ceiling, I realize I’m having more fun than I’ve had in a long time. It’s not my fault if Ash is stressed out from a long evening of deception. Lord knows I’ve had plenty of practice imagining what life would be like if we were a couple. I played my role perfectly. It wasn’t even hard.
Other things are hard, though. And when Ash walks out of the bathroom a minute later, she actually gasps. “Jesus Christ.”
The sheet is covering my erection. Sort of. I’m as hard as my Big Bertha driver, and my cock is pointing at the ceiling. It’s not my fault, though. I’m well fed, and Ash is wearing a threadbare Pink Floyd T-shirt that might be a relic from the eighties. When she moves, her breasts press against the soft fabric of the moon and jiggle a bit.
It’s that press and jiggle that gets me.
Slowly I wrap my hand around the base of my cock, pulling the sheet tight, giving her an even better view. “You’ve seen it before,” I point out. “But I’m happy to give you another look…” I stroke myself again. It feels good, stroking myself, her watching me. I think I see her nipples starting to pebble.
“Why are you naked under there?” Her face flames.
Dumbest question ever. “I’m still in character, honey bear. And Hunter wants you. Badly. But I don’t think you’re playing your role very well right now.”
Actually she is, though. Her eyes are dilated. And her gaze can’t decide where it wants to land. She takes in my bare chest and my arm muscles flexing as I stroke myself over the sheet. Then she focuses in on the Tower of Power itself.
“Have another taste?” I invite her. It’s a miracle that I can say this casually, because I’m dying right now. That hungry look on her face is everything. “You did such a great job last time. Most women can’t handle me.”
She swallows roughly and closes her eyes. “You have the biggest ego I ever saw.”
“You can’t see my ego, sweetie. You can only see my cock. My fraternity brothers referred to it as The Bratwurst.”
“Wait.” Her eyes pop open. “You changed your last name after college. To Braht.”
“Yeah.” Stroke. Stroke. Unnngh. I’m watching her lips move and wishing they were worshipping my dick.
“Oh my god.” She puts her hands on her hips. “Some men name their dicks. But you named yourself after your dick?”
“Don’t judge. It’s a little inside joke I have with myself.” Reluctantly I take my hand off the Bratwurst and tuck my arms behind my head. My Tower of Power stands firm. “Kill the light, baby.”
“I’m not your baby.” She grabs the other pillow off the bed. “I’m sleeping on the floor.”
“No you’re not.” I grab the pillow back from her.
“Then you’re sleeping on the floor.”
“Also not happening.”
She glares.
I smile. “Ashley, I’m not going to touch you.”
“You’re not?” Is that disappointment on her face? Of course it is…
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Man Hands - Recommended Reading Order
(standalone stories with interconnected characters)
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