Weclome to Masturbation Monday, the perfect way to start the week!
Today I have a FREEBIE for everyone, not only that it's a free hockey hunk who has a sprinkle of kink!
All you have to do to claim your copy is sign up to my monthly newsletter.
Here's a steamy excerpt from the book, which, by the way, is the first in a 7 novel series titled HOT ICE. (all can be read on Kindle Unlimited)
We went into Logan’s bedroom. His en-suite was much more lavish than mine. He had a huge double walk-in shower decorated in plush gold and soft cream, a triple sink unit and a Jacuzzi bath.
I hit the faucet and the shower filled with streams of pounding water from several different heads on the ceiling. He stepped in and I was close behind him.
“Turn around,” I said firmly, feeling a sudden need for control.
“What?” He frowned through the billowing steam.
“Turn around.” I pressed his shoulder. “My turn to touch you.”
His eyebrows twitched and so did his cock. He did as he was told and faced the wall, offering me his long, wide back, tight butt and muscular legs coated in soft dark hairs that thinned to nothing at the top of his thighs.
“Spread your hands out,” I said, cupping his triceps and urging his arms forward so his palms pressed against the tiles. “Like you’ve been arrested.”
He grunted. “You getting all dominant police lady on me?” he asked, dropping his head and spreading out his fingers. The water filled his thick hair and sluiced down the gutter of his spine.
“Why, can’t you handle it?” I traced my fingers through the river of water in the hollow of his back. “A woman taking control of you?”
“Oh, I can handle it fine, but just remember, be careful what you start, I might just finish it.”
“I’m pretty sure I can finish it.” I reached for a big yellow sponge and filled it with dark red shower gel. Squeezed and massaged until my fingers were white with thick, creamy foam and the scent of ginger and cinnamon filled the shower.
As the water beat onto my back, I placed the sponge on the top curve of his shoulders and wiped from left to right. The pouring water slid the bubbles over his gleaming, golden skin. I squeezed some more and watched the soapy stream run through every trough and dip of his back, down the neat crack of his butt and on to his solid thighs, finally settling around his ankles before swirling down the drain.
I touched the phoenix tattoo again and trailed upward to several crescent nail marks at the base of his shoulder blades—stab marks from my frenzied orgasm on the sofa. “Sorry about this,” I said.
“My favorite kind of wound,” he said in a tight voice.
“Yes, but I’m still sorry if I hurt you.”
He huffed. “You didn’t hurt me.” His voice was as dry as he was wet. “But if you feel bad and want to make it up to me, feel free to, at any time.”
I knew exactly how I was going to make it up to him. “Okay, turn around again.”
He shifted and loomed over me with the look of the devil in the depths of his eyes. But I pressed firmly against his water-slick chest until he was backed against the tiles. “I’ve finished with your shoulders and butt now,” I said. “Though I reckon your front needs attention.”
He swept his tongue over his bottom lip and narrowed his eyes. He looked like he was done playing my game and was about to grab me. But he didn’t, he stayed where I’d put him, though his fists clenched and his muscles tensed.
Deliberately slowly, I refilled the sponge with shower gel, worked up a lather and set it on his right collarbone. Sliding it to the left, I squeezed and watched as white froth trickled down his sternum, caught through the fuzz at his navel and settled in his pubic hair. “You’re getting good and clean now,” I said, shifting the sponge to the right collarbone again. “What do you think, Logan?”
“Clean as I’m ever gonna get,” he growled as a muscle flexed in his cheek. I’d noticed this happened when he was getting frustrated or impatient. I couldn’t decide if it was cute or dangerous—probably the latter.
I dropped the sponge on the floor and rested my hands on top of his soapy hips, right where the sharp angle of muscle tapered inward and downward from his six-pack. “Does that mean you’re always a little bit dirty?” I licked my lips. “Even when you’re soaped up in the shower?”
“Only when I’m in the shower and your mouth is looking so damn appealing.”
“You like my mouth?”
“Hell, yeah, sexiest mouth I’ve ever seen.”
He leaned in for a kiss but I dodged and shoved him back against the tiles by his hips. “Mmm, I’m glad about that,” I said, pulling provocatively on my lower lip with my teeth. “Because I’m hungry, really hungry.” I looked down at his erect cock jutting forward, slid my fingers into his pubes and tangled them in wiry hairs. Then I headed lower and wrapped my right hand around his thick, rigid shaft and sent the left to cup his balls.
Logan let out a groan. “Ahh, fuck,” he said, looking down. “Your little hands are so sweet on me.”
I squeezed until I could feel his pulse beating in my palm and stroked up to the wide head, learning the shape and texture of him.
“Ah, that’s it,” he said, shutting his eyes and tipping his head back until it rested on the tiles.
I gave him another stroke downward, right to the base, and glided back up again. Then sank to my knees, making sure my body had as much contact as possible with his as I went, and finally, through the steam, came face-to-face with his big cock.
He muttered something approving and suddenly I couldn’t wait to feel Logan Taylor’s beautiful cock sliding onto my tongue. I opened up, greedy for him.
He twined his fingertips in my wet hair and locked his knees as I guided him into my mouth.
I had to open to the max. The wide, crested head only just fit. Like the rest of his big body, his cock was on a different scale to everyone else. But as the musky, slightly soapy flavor of him invaded my taste buds and made me dizzy with longing, I knew I could do it. I knew I could take all of him.
Determinedly, I beat down my gag reflex and fed him in farther with my hand. Thick throbbing veins and skin as smooth as silk rode over my tongue and palate.
He groaned above me. “Fuck, Brooke,” he said in a tight voice. “You don’t pussyfoot about, do you? Straight for a deep throat.”
In answer I cupped his testicles again, where the hair was sparser, and rolled and fondled them like two balls in a bag, my fingertips gently exploring their shape through loose skin.
“Ah, fuck, you’re turning me inside out.” His fingers tightened against my scalp and his knees jerked, sending him farther forward in a sudden rush.
I dragged hot, misty air through my nose as he hit the sensitive flesh of the back of my throat and lodged there. My heart was hammering, my own body flying.
I created a strong suction. With my thumb and index finger I set up a steady push-pull at the base of his cock. My tongue laved and fondled his shaft as I bobbed backward and forward at his groin, taking him deeper and deeper each time.
“Brooke,” he gasped above me. “Watch it, or I’m gonna come down that pretty throat of yours.”
That was my plan, but I didn’t stop to tell him.
“I mean it…Brooke.” His fingers were like claws in my hair.
I felt empowered and utterly sensual. I had this big, strong man at my mercy and tottering on the edge of his control. I cast my gaze up, his face was lowered, hanging down. His heavy-lidded eyes caught mine, his teeth had sunk into his lower lip and his hands tightened further into my hair roots. “Stop now, or you’re gonna get it,” he said in a voice so hoarse it almost wasn’t recognizable as his.
I had no intention of stopping, I could almost feel the cum boiling in his scrotum, getting ready to jettison from his cock. I was hungry to taste his desire for me. I upped the pace and tightened the suction.
“Sweet Jesus,” he panted. “Have mercy.” His hands captured my head in a viselike hold and forged into my mouth. Sank right to the back of my throat, even farther than before.
Any other time, any other man, I would have fought and balked, but Logan had me just about coming with the wildness of his urgency and his domination over my mouth.
I lashed him with my tongue, sucked like my life depended on it and massaged his balls. I could breathe later. I was consuming him, taking all of him. His body was mine. He was a hostage to the pleasure I was giving.
He arched his hips tighter into my face. His cock penetrated the very back of my throat and he hissed and cursed above me as semen burst from the tip of his cock, flooding straight down my throat in long, milky jets. It was never-ending, ripping out of him, flowing from his body into mine as he held my head in a firm grip.
I swallowed, managed to drag in air, and continued my assault on the base of his shaft and his retracted balls. I let my finger slide over the thin fold of skin between his sack and his anus, tickled and rubbed the patch of smooth flesh I found there.
“Oh, fuck,” he said. “Wicked little…” The last pulse of liquid spilled into my mouth.
“Fuck…you trying to finish me off?” he gasped. “Good thing I’m fit.”
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