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Excerpt from Platinum Passion:

“Oh, Pothos,” she moaned, fumbling for the fastening on his jeans. “I want…” Her voice broke. What did she want? Jake, her familiar, dark-haired husband of twenty years? Most definitely. And Pothos, the golden-skinned Adonis who had seemingly materialized straight off the cover of a romance novel, clearly a manifestation of everything she was missing in her life right now?

Yes, God help her. She wanted him, too.

Badly.

But somehow, it wasn’t quite enough to have one without the other.

She stopped trying to unfasten his jeans and rested her cheek against his chest, enjoying the hardness and the heat. Turning slightly, she inhaled the delicious aroma of his skin. Different to the clean citrus smell of her husband, Pothos smelt exotic and sensual. Not quite musk, not quite spice, but altogether it was heady and enticing.

“Like someone bottled pheromones and sprayed you with it,” she muttered, wanting to bury herself deeper in his embrace.

“You like it, of course,” he said, and now it was Jeannie’s turn to laugh, at that supreme confidence.

“I love it,” she admitted, and at her words the aroma intensified around her, as if she were immersed in a sensual river, almost drowning in pleasure. Her knees buckled as erotic images began to assail her. Images of herself crammed between Jake and Pothos, the three of them somehow entwined on the sand, moaning and rutting and taking it in turns to love each other in the silvery light of the moon.

That’s what I want, she thought, and the ferocity of her longing had her hands reaching up to fist in his hair. “Can you bring Jake here, too? I want you both.”

“Good,” he said, voice rough with desire. “That is how it should be. The three of us, sharing a platinum night of passion. Together.”

His decadent words sent a delicious shiver across her skin, but before she could respond Pothos bent down to grasp the bottom of her nightgown and rip it up and over her head. Moments later and those cotton panties were gone too. She stood naked in front of him as he threw the underwear aside, but strangely, she felt no embarrassment. A light breeze tickled her flesh and puckered her already aching nipples. Pothos reached out one finger and lightly grazed one of the expanding nubs. “Beautiful,” he said, and now his voice had a deep huskiness. “Jake should see you like this. Bathed in moonlight and sensuality.”

His finger left her breast and traced the rest of her body in a delicate caress, skimming across ribs moving rapidly as she struggled to breathe evenly, down through the curve of her waist and over her abdomen to rest, feather-light, at the very top of her slit. Her mons was bare except for a tiny heart shape of hair right where Pothos’ index finger now rested. She’d had the Brazilian last week, leaving the heart in a display of whimsy and hoping Jake would enjoy the new look.

But he hadn’t even noticed.

Unlike Pothos, who now had a crooked little grin on his face as he traced around the heart.

“A genuine blonde,” he said.

She nodded in a distracted fashion. She was finding it more and more difficult to draw a breath. Her gaze fell to his jeans, the denim now clearly stretched to its limit across his groin. Not fair that he should still have clothing on, while she stood here dressed in nothing but her pussy heart.

“Would you…please…remove…?” She reached out a trembling hand to touch his straining bulge, and his intake of breath was audible. She enjoyed the momentary power, mimicking his fingertip exploration of her body to trace up the shape of his penis, over the ripped abdominal muscles and then down again, taking pleasure in the increasingly irregular pattern of his breathing.

So this…god of love, or whoever he was, could be moved by desire, too.

She fumbled again for the fastening on his jeans, but he shook his head, then stepped back to remove his clothing in a fluid movement that was far quicker than she’d have been able to achieve with her shaking hands.

His cock sprang free and she gasped at the enormous size and inherent power in his organ. Pothos was longer and wider than Jake, but not unduly so, as her husband was rather well-endowed. But it was not only his erect appendage that had her eyes wide and her whole body aching for sex. Though his shoulders were built for power his body tapered down in a long, lean arc to narrow hips, and as he turned toward the water for a moment she got a view of tight buttocks and impressively muscled thighs.

Had he done that twirl on purpose? So that she’d see and appreciate the perfection of his body from every angle?

Yes, she decided, as he glanced back at her over his shoulder and grinned boyishly. He most certainly had.

“Nice butt,” she managed, in the understatement of the century, but it was worth it to see the affronted look on his face.

“Nice?”

“Very nice, in fact.”

He moved so fast she only had time for a quick yelp before he was standing over her, gripping her shoulders. The head of his organ was almost, but not quite, touching her stomach, and she could feel the radiant heat leaching out from its proximity. “Nothing about me is nice, Jeannie.”

(Copyright Jennifer Lynne)

Excerpt from Pandora’s Gift:

His fingers closed over the silver sculpture and he saw the shudder run through her as he caressed it, sweeping down one curving line and back up again, shifting his grip, releasing it, touching again, feather-light caresses as she closed her eyes and moaned from deep within her throat.

“So you feel that?” The roughness in his voice betrayed how hard it was to remain in control as she lay on the floor, arms and legs flung out in abandon, tendrils of hair going in all directions. He thought he had never before seen anything – or anyone – so beautiful.

“Yes,” she breathed. “Its like…torture.”

“Good.  And what about this?”

He leaned over and pressed his lips to the metal, nuzzling it, nibbling, the tip of his tongue reaching out to taste what would surely be the slight bitterness of metal…but no – it was as if he tasted the delicate citrus flavour of her skin, sweet and heady and hot beneath his touch.

“Oh Flint, yes, that feels so good.”

She shuddered and opened her eyes, meeting his gaze squarely as he continued to trace the curving lines of her work. And all the while he was watching her, watching as her lips parted and she moaned his name aloud, watching as her hands moved across her breasts, pausing at the nipples to touch, explore, pull gently before moving on and down across her stomach to hover at her mound. “I feel you right here,” she whimpered, and the pressure and the heat in his groin grew almost unbearable.

“I feel you too, Pandora,” he whispered, kneeling down before the piece, one knee each side of the large base, shuffling forward until he was hard against the metal, gaze still linked to hers. “I feel like I’m pressed up against you.” And it was truly as if their bodies were entwined together, the extraordinary heat of the sculpture wonderful agony as he thrust, slowly at first then faster, his cock sliding up and down the uneven curves of her art as they folded themselves around him. As if they too wanted to draw him in to their aroused and aching centre.

“Come here, Flint, please. Haven’t you punished me enough?” Her pitiful tone was almost his undoing, but he wouldn’t…couldn’t…cease what he was doing. This was his turn, his time to be in charge, and this time they would only come together on his terms.

“No!” he commanded. “You come here.”

“Yes!”

He closed his eyes and waited, heard the rustle as she shifted off the carpet, then her body was up against him, warm breath tickling the back of his neck, her plump breasts pressed into his back, nipples piston-hard and angled upwards to accommodate their length as she wrapped her arms around him. Smooth thighs were hot against him as she kneed his legs further apart, then her mound connected with his buttocks in an embrace so deeply intimate he almost came undone.

“Pandora,” he moaned, “what are you doing to me?”

“I’m taking you with me, into the light.”

A chuckle bubbled out of him at her words, and with it a sense of freedom that he couldn’t remember feeling since he was a child. “Am I dying then?”

“Of course not!” Her laughter rippled across his skin, “This is living, Flint. Embracing life. And love. Embrace it.”

As if to demonstrate she held him more tightly, gentle fingers exploring, and he felt like he was sandwiched between two halves of the same woman, shiny silver and soft flesh, surrounded by her heat and her delicious scent, his senses so aroused he couldn’t even tell where woman ended and the metal sculpture began.

(Copyright Jennifer Lynne)

Excerpt from Seducing Serena in Secrets Volume 28:

Serena Hewitt stared at the perfectly proportioned man and wondered at the cruel fate that had given this black-haired, green-eyed, bronze-skinned Adonis a brain the size of a pea.

“Why bother reading books when you can wait for the movie to come out?” he’d asked in that delectable voice, lifting his shoulders in a shrug. Just one more in a long line of opinions that had her head shaking in disbelief.

“Surely you’re joking,” she said. “Everybody reads something!”

The disappointment sat in her stomach like a lead balloon. How many men had she interviewed over the past three days? Seventeen? She’d thought, when he walked in…but no. Nicholas Wade was not the one for whom she’d been searching.

Not even when that quirk at the corner of his mouth and the gleam of amusement in his eyes caused a curl of anticipation deep down in her belly.

“Why would I joke about it?” he asked. “That’s what today’s about, isn’t it? Get to know each other a little and see whether we wanna hook up. And with me, honey,” he spread his hands wide and grinned, “what you see is what you get.”

Her eyes narrowed, even as she felt herself responding physically to the charm of his grin. See whether we wanna hook up? For a second she wondered whether he was teasing, but why would he do that in these circumstances? “Well, thanks for your time, Nicholas—”

“Please, not so formal. Make it Nick.” He leaned forward and the flash of a diamond in his left earlobe winked, as if mocking her attempt to categorise him.

“All right, er, Nick.” She crossed her arms, then uncrossed them when she realised the action highlighted her cleavage. “I’ve heard enough to be able to make my decision. I’ll be in touch soon.”

Liar, liar, pants are definitely aflame. She leaned back in her chair as he stood up and dwarfed the normally spacious room. Late afternoon sun, rare in mid-winter Melbourne, slanted through the window of her city office, casting odd shadows across his face.

“So business-like.” His teasing tone deepened into curiosity. “Let me ask you something, Serena. Do you really expect to find Mister Right this way? Where’s the passion? The excitement? Don’t you ever let your hair down and just have fun?”

“Of course.” Unexpectedly stung, she sat up and removed her glasses to glare at him. “I’m thirty two years old, Nick, and its taken me the best part of my life to discover there’s no such thing as Mister Right. Romance is well and truly over-rated.”

“If you believe that,” he said slowly, “then perhaps you’ve never been well and truly romanced.”

“Maybe, maybe not.” She held up a hand to still his response and continued, “I’m not looking for excitement, okay?” I had that and it didn’t work. “I just want someone I can be comfortable with. Besides,” she frowned, “if you’re just after a bit of fun, why on earth did you respond to my advertisement?”

He shrugged, blank faced, then leant over the desk towards her. She detected the faint aroma of an expensive aftershave and had to fight the urge to inhale more deeply. “Let’s call it a whim,” he said. “I saw your ad in the paper and it was so serious. Even the wording of the ad—”

“What was wrong with it?” Wanted, she’d written. A suitable man for the job. Nothing unreasonable about that!

He chuckled, a slow rumble as contagious as a child’s laugh. Her pulse quickened. “It stood out from the others for its lack of emotion, Serena. It made me curious. I wanted to hear your voice, get a feel for the real you.” He moved into a patch of sunlight and his eyes blazed. “And when I accessed your voice mail…”

He reached out a long finger to caress the line of her jaw. The touch, so slow, feather-light, sent unwanted tremors coursing through her system. “Your voice intrigues me. It’s totally unexpected. Deep. A little bit husky. Your voice gave out a completely different message to the business-like words of your ad. I couldn’t resist its sexy appeal.”

“I—well!” No one had ever commented on her voice like that. She tried to avoid moving back in her seat, out of the reach of his gentle touch. It was hard to concentrate with the almost hypnotic whisper of skin on skin. But she didn’t want that knowing look in his eyes to deepen, the one that said, I know what effect my touch has on you.

“And then I came here today and found a curious contradiction,” he continued. “A buttoned-up accountant with solemn grey eyes all set for business rather than pleasure.” His words were like ice water in her face. She suddenly had no trouble breaking away from his touch. Then she scowled uncertainly as he added, “But there’s one thing that tells me you might not be quite as straight-laced as you seem.”

“Oh?” She spoke through gritted teeth.

“That tiny red rose on your left ankle.”

(Copyright Jennifer Lynne)

Excerpt from Educating Ethan:

Coming soon, I promise!