Christmas Wishes Blog Hop

What's on your list?




                             

                                1. An Army of Maids?                                                         6. 20 fewer pounds?

                                2. World Peace?                                                                 7. A Laundry Fairy?

                                3. All day Spa?                                                                    8. Books. Lots of Books?

                                4. Channing Tatum?                                                            9.  Personal Assistant?

                                5. To make it through the Holidays with the in laws?      10. Something from your Bucket list?

                                    

Or... would you like to find this crawling out 
from under your tree Christmas morning?




Or maybe just a good book?

In The Risque Target, when Tantum Maddox pins Nala Decker against the wall, she finds herself needing to ask for something entirely different for Christmas.

Adult Excerpt

"Tell me, what am I going to find if I keep going?" His fingers inched closer. Her heart raced. "Are you damp," he furthered another inch up her thigh, "wet," he smiled wickedly and she gushed from the inside out. "Or, will you be drenched, sweetheart?" 
Nala bit her lip. The forecast was indeed warning a flood. Though, she needed him to continuewith his splendid voyage. She wanted him to dip his fingers into the pool of her desire.

The side of his mouth kicked up, "What's wrong? Have I rendered you speechless?" he daunted.

Nala found her strength from his cockiness, from the potent dare in his baiting tone. "No, I'm just wondering when you're going to stop teasing me," she wielded her sexiest smile, "and finish what you've started here." Gutsy maybe, but she meant every word. The man was purposely torturing her.

He released a deep throaty chuckle. His fingers now so close to her inner flesh, a mere stroke away. "Hot and sassy, you've gotta be the sexiest thing I've ever seen." His eyes twinkled with feral passion. "Don't worry sweetheart this is going to be the best night of your life," he said and squeezed her thigh with the tips of his fingers pulling her skin and without touching her pussy he had succeed in opening it slightly, "but you're only going to come when I say you can and not one second sooner." He withdrew slightly from her begging center, possibly for another tormenting tease. She went from on fire to frosty to completely frozen as the thought came to her. Did he feel it? Suddenly staring down the barrel of her own gun, she had her answer.

With narrowed eyes, he made an annoying clicking sound from the corner of his mouth as he turned to inspect her gun, the one he’d snagged from between her legs. She didn’t even feel him take it. He inhaled an exaggerated breath, tilted his head, and waved the gun at her.

"Didn't your daddy ever tell you that little girls shouldn’t play with guns?"

"On the contrary, it was a gift from my father." She eyed him skeptically. "And I'd appreciate it if you'd give it back...you know, for the sentimental value and all," she hissed.

She didn’t know if he’d give it back or use it on her. After all, he was a complete stranger, and she knew nothing of the man currently holding a gun to her chest. She was still trapped by his hand behind her back, and he pressed his thigh across her legs, rendering a groin kick impossible.

"Well I guess maybe we're not going to find out just how wet you are sweetheart," he said with a disgruntled grin. "I am going to take a step back from you, and if you move, my finger may slip," he said and nodded his head. "Do you understand me?"

"Yes." She got it: If she tried to fight for her gun, he was going to shoot her.

She heard the safety button click. The weapon was ready to go off. She remained still. He meant business, and she wasn’t going to mess around with a loaded gun. He could have it. She'd just ask Daddy to get her a new one at Christmas.

"Good." He slowly moved away from her but held the weapon straight at her as he reached over to the sofa and picked up his jacket. "In my experience, a woman who straps a gun to her leg only does so for one of two reasons." He threw his coat over his shoulder.

"One, she's a killer, a hired assassin." He released the cartridge from her gun and put it in his pocket. "Or two, she's a hired agent," he said and tossed her empty gun at her. "Until I figure out which one you are, sweetheart, I can't sleep with you. I need to know who I'm fucking. But when I find out, you can bet your sweet little ass I'll be coming back for you."

He took a lethal step toward her.

She held her empty gun to her chest and held her breath. Both of his forearms, the ones that flexed so easily while pouring her drink, trapped her again between him and the wall.

Lowering his head, he glared into her eyes. "But when I return for you, those sexy little moans will be turned into pleasurable, sweet, satisfied cries."  

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