Wicked Reads Blog Hop

Hello and welcome to Wicked Reads Blog Hop. We all love big bad heroes and today I've got Gid with me from Burning Rubber. He's got attitude, he has his own particular way of dealing with problems and he handles women as well as he handles bikes!

Back Cover Information

When trouble rides into town, what girl can resist the ultimate bad boy?

Handling men isn’t an issue for me. I’m not a girly girl and my best friends are the machines I  spend my days fixing, tweaking and servicing. So when the Wild Angels roll onto my forecourt and  need my help, I’m happy to be of assistance.

But I’ve always been a magnet for trouble and when the leader of the pack, Gid, questions my ability, I can’t help the sassy backchat. Seems it doesn’t bother him too much and before I know it, I’m climbing onto his beast and hanging on for the ride.

Bad ass guys like him don’t come without baggage, though, and it seems he wants to get rid of mine. Who am I to complain when it means revenge is hot, his body is hotter and we leave a trail of burning rubber as we head into the sunset? Biker girl, me? I guess it’s in the blood.

Excerpt

“Long time since I met a girl who impressed me,” he murmured, resting my hair on my coverall and smoothing his palm over the tips and against my collarbone through the material. “Usually they annoy the hell out of me, especially blondes.”

“I can’t help the color of my hair,” I said. “I’m natural.”

“Mmm...” He chuckled. “I’d like proof.” He slipped his hand lower and grasped my breast. Not hard but not gently either. “Firm proof.”

I gasped and moved backwards.

He was right there and I pushed into the length of his body.

“Easy,” he said. “You know I want you, right?”

“I kind of guessed.” Damn, he was so big and solid it was like being jammed into a brick wall.

“And you agreed to come out for a ride with me.”

“Yes, but...”

He released a small metal button on my coverall, eased his hand into the gap and cupped my other breast through my sweater. I was sure he’d be able to feel my nipple peaking against my bra.

I glanced down. The sight of his tattooed forearm working, the tendons shifting slightly as he massaged my breast, was nearly my undoing.

I almost spun around, grabbed him and told him to fuck me there and then over his Harley .

But I didn’t want to be that girl—the easy small town mechanic who fell for his rough charm and dusky voice. I wanted to make him work for it. Why should some people have everything fall into their laps?

“You think like a man,” he said, “but damn, you feel like a woman.”

“All woman,” I said.

He kissed my cheek, his chin sharp on my flesh and his lips warm and damp. He switched to my other breast, his movement snapping open a few more buttons on my coverall, right down to my waist.

I twisted my head and found his mouth. He kissed me softly and much sweeter than I’d expected and fed me his sinful flavor—tobacco and lust. I probed my tongue between his lips and sought out his wet heat.

He slid his hand deeper, over the base of my ribs and to my belly.

I caught my breath and he deepened the kiss, slipping his other hand over my throat, his thumb and index finger spanned beneath my chin in a strangle position. I was aware of the pads of his palm pushing into my larynx and his fingertips hard at my pulse points.

It felt dangerous, up here, him holding me like this, kissing me like this, but I wanted more. Despite myself, I was turned the hell on.

He pressed into me harder and I was aware of a long wedge of flesh against my buttock.

He was hard. He wanted it too.

He carried on kissing me, searching my mouth, the flat of his tongue playing with mine. I didn’t stop him when he undid the top button on my jeans and eased down the zipper.

I wanted his rough touch—his big, calloused fingers in me. My pussy was heating with want and a soft throb had started up in my clit.

I closed my eyes and a small moan gurgled up from my throat. He must have felt it against his hand.

He delved down into my panties and fingered through my pubic hair.

My body weakened and slumped. He held me tighter and pushed me forward slightly, trapping me between him and the Harley.

“Oh, God,” I gasped into his mouth.

“You mean, Oh, Gid,” he whispered before kissing over my cheek, his stubble leaving a trail of fire.

His hand at my throat tightened and he forced my head back, into the crook of his neck. He kissed lower, past my ear to the angle of my jaw.

I widened my stance and let him support me. Damn, it had been so long since I’d been touched and never by someone who’d just decided to take what they wanted like this.

But I wanted it too. I felt surrendered to him and taken by him.

He found my clit and applied a firm pressure, rubbing in small up-and-down movements.

Instantly the coil of arousal began to unwind, and the pressure, in that special place deep in my belly, started to build. I could feel moisture seeping from me, into my panties.

My clothes were a little restricting but this didn’t seem to bother him and he pushed two fingers into my pussy.

I let out a long, low sigh and welcomed the invasion, sank onto it.

So good.

“Ah, yeah, you need this. Don’t you, blondie?” he murmured.

I didn’t answer. He’d shoved the heel of his hand over my clit and as he jammed in and out of my pussy, fucking me with his fingers. He was also rubbing me in the most delicious rhythm.

I finally moved my hands from the bike. I gripped his forearm and felt the movements in his muscles as he worked me to orgasm. The strength and power beneath the surface of his skin was a turn-on in itself.

“Come,” he said, tightening the grip on my neck, “come on my hand.”

“Yes, yes...” I panted. The sensation of him half-blocking my airway was scary yet thrilling. “Please...don’t stop.”

“I won’t. You feel too damn good wriggling like this.”

I didn’t think I was wriggling much. He had me in death grip. But I wasn’t going to argue. My orgasm was there, the final few steps to glorious release beckoning me. I held what little breath I had in my lungs and let the sweet anticipation of climax whisk me into a dreamy state. All that existed were his hands on me and his fingers in me.

“Ah, fuck...” I groaned as the pleasure overflowed and my pussy bounded into a series of glorious spasms.

My knees gave way, but he held me up. His hand on my throat made me dizzy. He was holding me so tight. Black dots danced in the flashing red lights behind my eyelids and my pulse raged frantically in my ears.

I gurgled out a moan of delight and humped my pussy into his hand.

“Let it all go,” he whispered into my ear. “Just be—here, with me.”

I let the pleasure go on and on, riding his fingers, until it faded. Damn, I’d needed that. I tried to drag in a breath, struggled because of his hold and quickly grasped his hand and tugged.

He released me.

Cool air rushed into my lungs, burning a chilly trail down my throat. I gulped in more and righted my head, opened my eyes and tried to focus on the horizon. I could still feel his fingers there, on my neck, even though he’d moved them.

Fuck, that had been edgy.

Grab your copy of Burning Rubber from Amazon, ARe, Totally Bound and all other good ebook retailers. Please note Burning Rubber features in the Wild Angels anthology.

Want to win something? I'm giving away a copy of The Glass Knot - MMF - in ebook (pdf, epub, mobi) to one person who leaves me a comment right here telling me about their favourite type of hero.

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