One Of A Kind

Boruma Publishing

 Multi-millionaire Lucas O’Shaunnessey is incensed to learn that an interloper has opened an exotics pet shop near his very first retail store. How dare she move in on his territory?

 

But Lucas is in for quite a surprise when he confronts clever, sexy Devon Gallagher. Sparks fly as they each fight their primal attraction.

 

Can they work together until true love finally stakes its claim—or will his sultry ex-lover drive a wedge between them forever?

~~~~~ Excerpt ~~~~~

Lucas knew he should be leaving soon—Chicago and Cassandra were waiting. But his feet remained frozen to the floor while he watched Devon chat easily with another bright-faced old lady.

 

She’d done something to her hair, he suddenly realized. It was curled back, feathered away from her face. It made her look just a little less like his favorite late-night fantasy, gorgeous Hollywood starlet Samantha Brooks…and yet, somehow, it didn’t. He could still see the uncanny likeness, even from where he was standing.

 

Damned if she didn’t look even sexier in that long colorful sarong and gauzy peasant blouse! Who’d have thought anything could be more alluring than those tight, raggedy shorts, or the trim navy slacks and vibrant blouses she normally wore? His pulse began to triphammer.

 

Cassandra was waiting for him.

 

He couldn’t remember a time when he’d ever cared less.

 

As if his turbulent thoughts were a magnet, her startled eyes darted in his direction—and all the noisy clamor faded away. If there was anyone else in the market besides just her, he didn’t see or hear them.

 

A hot flush of color stained Devon’s cheeks as he sauntered over. He was here! She’d been thinking of him, guiltily wishing she could see him again—and hating herself for that treacherous longing—and he was here!

 

How long had he been standing there, watching her?

 

“Sam.” His lazy, insolent greeting made every warm, wistful thought vanish like mist. “You clean up pretty good.”

 

Damn it, she hated it when he called her ‘Sam’!

 

Devon’s eyes glittered with suppressed irritation. “Coming back to slum it with the little people?” she sneered.

 

He couldn’t help it; he simply had to laugh. Devon was so full of energy, so gutsy and daring, that he was enchanted by her snappy rebuttals. “Not for long, more’s the pity. I’m due at a trade show in Chicago this afternoon.”

 

She raked him with a single derisive glance, taking in his expensive tailored business suit and gleaming black shoes. “Overdue,” she retorted. “And overdressed. You’re going to melt in those fancy duds if you stay here much longer.”

 

The garrulous retirees made way for him, until he was standing close enough to breathe in her delicate scent.

 

Big mistake.

 

His guts began to churn with sudden fierce need.

 

“Want me to bring you anything?”

 

Devon had to tilt her head back to meet his mocking gaze. Something in his vivid eyes paralyzed her, and made her heart pound in triple-time. It was only reflex that had her answering, “Proof that you’re moving back there for good?”

 

His grin widened. Then, before she could do more than gasp in shocked outrage, he caught her in a tight embrace, and his mouth covered hers in a heady, dizzying kiss.

 

“Try to miss me a little, Sam!” he whispered in her ear when he finally released her. Then he was gone again, swaggering through the cheering crowd, which parted around him like the proverbial Red Sea.

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Additional Information

Publisher
Boruma Publishing
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Published on
Aug 20, 2016
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Pages
128
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ISBN
9781370223121
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Language
English
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Genres
Fiction / Romance / Contemporary
Fiction / Romance / Erotica
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Content Protection
This content is DRM protected.
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Available on Android devices
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It wasn't called the Bermuda Triangle for nothing!

Most people would have enjoyed vacationing in sunny Bermuda after being injured on the job. But for Mariah Conners, the timing couldn't have been worse. She wasn't just an FBI agent, she was a biomedical scientist. And the cancer research she was conducting just might help to save her supervisor's life.

But her charismatic partner, Quinn MacAllister, wasn't giving her a choice. She needed a break, and he was going to make sure that she took one. Two glorious weeks of scuba diving, sailing, deep-sea fishing, water skiing, and horseback riding would refresh them both.

Then their small charter plane went down in a freak electrical storm, and they found themselves cast adrift in the treacherous Bermuda Triangle with two spoiled teenagers and an elderly retired couple.

The remote tropical island that sheltered them was lush and gorgeous--but it also held a deadly secret. And their old enemy, Bryce Spencer, was in hot pursuit!

Could Mac and Conners keep their four unlikely companions alive, and escape the mysterious island, before Spencer killed them all? 

~~~~~  Excerpt  ~~~~~

“Mac!”

Mariah stared in blank horror as the plane’s shattered nose sank beneath the choppy storm-darkened waves, leaving behind only a trail of shimmering bubbles. “Mac!”

Someone was holding her back, pleading with her, clutching her arms in a fierce paralyzing grip. “Let me go!” she yelled, wrenching free despite the blazing pain in her shoulder. “He’s my partner!”

Saltwater stung her lacerated forehead as she plunged headfirst into the churning waves. She barely even noticed. “Mac, where are you?” she shouted, awkwardly treading water. “Mac!”

The bubbles were slowly fading away. She had to act now, or it would be too late!

She dove, kicking hard, following the plane’s lazy descent. Icy darkness enveloped her. Her lungs began to ache and fiery spots danced before her eyes, yet still she struggled deeper. She couldn’t give up, she just couldn’t!

More rising air bubbles suddenly exploded in her face, blinding her. Then her groping fingers brushed against something slippery. Mac’s leather jacket!

One last frantic surge of energy moved her weakening legs, propelling her upward again, dragging his heavy weight behind her.

She couldn’t give up, she couldn’t…

Please, Mac, don’t die!

Cold rain suddenly lashed against her upturned face. Sputtering, she sucked in deep breaths of precious air. Lightning flared overhead, painfully bright against her dilated eyes. The iron bands constricting her chest slowly eased as she fought to keep Mac’s sagging head above the waves.

“Over here!” Reuben’s lilting voice cut through the howling wind, and she caught a brief glimpse of his pale face through the churning spray. “We’re over here! Hurry!”

Thunder rumbled in her ears as the heavy waves knocked her back and forth. Frigid water cascaded over her head, and she resurfaced with a strangled cough. Fresh pain lanced through her shoulder as she clumsily splashed toward the heaving orange raft. Her legs were going numb from the bitter cold, and she was so tired—but she had to keep trying! Mac’s life depended on her!

Something hard stung her flailing hand. A rope? She wrapped stiffening fingers around it, and felt the waves tug harder in protest as the raft suddenly jolted closer.

New energy surged through her aching frame when Reuben’s fingers locked around Mac’s limp arm, and pulled hard. “Hurry!” she shouted. “He’s not breathing!”

Esther leaned out perilously far to help, and slowly they hauled his long body into the raft. Then it was Conners’ turn, and she wanted to sob with relief as the ocean reluctantly loosened its death-grip on her thrashing legs.

Mac was sprawled face-down in the sloshing raft. “Help me roll him over!” she gasped, clutching her throbbing arm with bleeding fingers. Oh God, his lips were blue, and his open eyes were glazed. “He can’t die, not yet!”

Esther braced herself against the rolling waves, and pressed shaking fingers against his cold throat. “He still has a pulse!” she shouted. “It’s slow, but he’s still alive!”

Both teenagers looked shell-shocked, too dazed to react. Conners ignored them, and focused on her partner’s deathly pale face. “Come on, Mac, come on!” she chanted, thrusting hard against his inert diaphragm. “Breathe!”

Helpful hands steadied her as she bent to force air down his windpipe. Again. And again!

Breathe, thrust… Breathe, thrust… Breathe, thrust…

Suddenly his limp body convulsed, and a gush of salty water erupted from his open mouth. Conners tilted his head to one side and let the water drain. “Breathe, Mac!” she ordered, pushing hard against his ribs one last time. “Come on, damn it! Breathe!”

He jerked again, and this time she heard the sweet rush of air filling his lungs. His chest began to rise and fall in a slow, rhythmic cadence as his taut muscles relaxed.

Slowly his eyes flickered open, and he focused on her tear-streaked face. “Hey!” His pale lips twitched into a faint teasing grin as they formed soundless words. “You weren’t worried about me, were you?”

For one crazy moment, she didn’t know whether to hit him or kiss him.

Regulations be damned, this was a moment when she needed to touch him, just to reassure herself that he was still alive! “Jesus, Mac, I thought I’d lost you! Don’t you ever do that to me again!”

Lightning flashed overhead. He tried to push himself up on one elbow, but she laid a restraining hand on his chest. “Lie still! You need rest!”

Another huge wave crashed into the raft, drenching them with icy spray. Reuben wrapped his fingers tighter around the support rope, and leaned close enough to shout in her ear. “How long will this storm last?” His aging face was drawn with fear. “The raft is filling up with water fast!”

“Emergency rafts are built to handle a lot of water!” she yelled back. “Just hang on!”

Suddenly the black clouds and shrieking winds vanished. For one ageless, nauseating moment, the entire world seemed to whirl in dizzying spirals. Then a soft, warm rain began to patter down around them.

“Mac!” She bolted upright and stared wildly around. “What the hell…”

“I don’t know!”

It was impossible. Fierce squalls didn’t just appear and then disappear in the blink of an eye.

But the violent electrical storm was gone.

The gigantic crashing waves were gone.

And as they watched in stunned disbelief, the hazy gray clouds overhead simply melted away, and the golden sun began to shine down from a perfectly clear blue sky.

The ocean around them was calm, gentle…and empty. The other life raft was nowhere to be seen.

It was the cruise of the century--a once-in-a-lifetime extravaganza for those rich enough to indulge their wildest fantasies. The luxurious new Fairy Princess ocean liner would zigzag all across the planet, stopping at every exotic port and island and country. Few would be fortunate enough to afford more than a month’s travel--but the entire two-year trip was booked solid. It was an undertaking that would make the legendary Titanic look like a rerun of Gilligan’s Island.

And then the impossible brass ring--twelve elegant staterooms had been reserved for twelve lucky random couples, to hobnob with the world’s obscenely rich and shameless. The "Lucky Twelve" contest had commanded more media attention than the latest five presidential scandals combined.

Ex-Marine Mitch O’Neill couldn’t believe that he’d been randomly chosen. Things like that just didn’t happen to him! Then he discovered that the elegant young woman in charge of the grand voyage was none other than his estranged lover, Lady Guenevere Thurmond...and he was sure that someone had deliberately arranged for him to be on board.

Seven years ago, Gwen had vanished without a trace, only to explode into the media spotlight by marrying Lord Winston Thurmond, a British lord nearly 40 years her senior. Mitch had never forgotten, or forgiven, her heartless betrayal.

Who could possibly want to reunite them? And why?

Against his better judgment, Mitch finds himself unwillingly drawn to Gwen again. But Gwen is hiding a tragic secret of her own--and revealing it could cost her everything, and everyone, she holds dear!

~~~~~  Excerpt  ~~~~~

“Don’t you make a charming picture!”

Gwen was languidly brushing a long-haired pup when his bitter words rang out of the darkness. She knew that low, husky voice! And it was so achingly familiar that every nerve in her body went on instant alert, and her heart began to pound wildly. The brush fell from her numb fingers as she whipped around, hardly daring to breathe.

“Mitch?” His name emerged as a hoarse, disbelieving whisper.

“Don’t act so surprised.” Sneering, he emerged from the shadows, and balanced his long frame against the doorframe to keep it from tipping drunkenly back and forth. “You know very well that your loving husband arranged for me to keep you company on this delightful little pleasure cruise!

“Or was it you?” His eyes narrowed suddenly as stunned heat flushed her pale cheeks. “By God, it was, wasn’t it? You arranged to have me here! He doesn’t have a clue what you did!”

The blank shock on her face was too real to be contrived. But ripe fury was overwhelming his common sense. All the long-suppressed anger and betrayal was churning in his gut, bubbling over, finding a handy and oh-so-perfect target. And nothing else mattered but letting it spew out in a hot, vicious torrent.

“What’s the matter, sweetheart?” He took an unsteady step forward, and clenched his big fists until the knuckles turned white. “Finally tired of your feeble old charity case? Isn’t he man enough to satisfy your needs?” Oh, how he’d love to wrap his long fingers around her lying little throat and squeeze, until she’d paid for every sleepless night since the day she’d run away from him!

Gwen scooted back against the wall as terror and elation warred for command. Outrage won by a narrow margin, and gave her the strength to scramble to her feet. “What are you talking about? You aren’t...I didn’t...”

She sputtered for a second, then backed away again when he advanced, with murder clearly visible in his dark eyes. How could she have forgotten how big he was? Those rugged hands could snap her into tiny little pieces!

“Did you think I wouldn’t figure it out?” His arms shot out to block her escape, and he deliberately loomed over her, forcing her to cringe against the sturdy wall. “I’m no Einstein, but even a moron could see through your flimsy motives!”

“You’re insane!” Her voice shook as she punched both fists against his wide chest. It was like hitting a granite boulder. “Mitch, let me go!” Rising panic made her voice shrill as he crushed her between his muscular body and the wall. Every nerve began to scream warnings as she felt his unbridled rage... and God help her, his fierce arousal.

This wasn’t the Mitch O’Neill she’d worshiped, the consummate lover she still dreamed about every night! This man was a terrifying stranger, bent on destroying her!

His harsh mouth descended on hers, choking off her frightened cry. So familiar, and yet not... And even so, some insane part of her own mind arched into the savage kiss with a wild passion she hadn’t even known she possessed.

But when his long fingers closed over her tender flesh, something snapped. Just as he’d taught her all those years ago, she twisted slightly to one side, then brought her knee up with explosive force.

He was drunk--but no man alive could be drunk enough to ignore that visceral agony!

The air exploded from his lungs, and he staggered back a pace. That was all the room she needed. Snarling, she brought her knee up again, and felt it connect a second time, squarely on target. And as his long body folded like a snapped twig, she clenched both fists together and swung them, like an iron mace, at his unprotected throat.

“And you taught me never to lower my guard!” Panting, she glared down at his writhing frame. Serve him right if he walked funny for a whole month!

“Gwen...” His contorted face was a sickly green. “Jesus, Gwen!”

“You deserved it!” Vigorously she wiped a hand across her mouth. “Remember that the next time you get stinking drunk, you two-timing...”

t was a miracle. Most coma patients either recovered within a few days, or they never came back at all.

Kayla Farrell had been in a coma for three long years. Everyone had given up hope--except for one courageous nurse who was willing to try anything to revive her patient! 

But waking up to the sound of her favorite actor’s voice was only the first step on Kayla’s long, arduous road to recovery.

Alex Matthews, lead star of the award-winning series "The Bureau," had heard all the rumors. How this unknown little writer had been in a three-year coma, how the sound of his voice had pulled her back from death’s door. How the first word out of her mouth had been his character’s name. And how, despite all her infirmities, she’d written the most amazing script ever to cross a producer’s desk. The entire thing sounded too weird to be true.

The prospect of dealing with a cripple scared the daylights out of him. So when Kayla and her devoted nurse actually arrived on the exotic "Bureau" set to watch her movie being filmed, Alex found himself being forced to confront his deepest fears.

Yet despite her confining wheelchair, Kayla Farrell was beautiful, vibrant, full of life. And try as he might, he couldn’t help being drawn by her clever wit, and her tenacious struggle to walk again.

But Alex wasn’t the only one who enjoyed Kayla’s vivacious company. He’d lost out to his co-star Tommy Anders’ boyish charm before--but never when it had mattered so much.

His timing for the camera was impeccable. But in his personal life, somehow he managed to botch it every time. Could he manage to overcome his fears, and win Kayla’s love, before their return to civilization separated them forever? 

This anthology features the first five erotic stories from the celebrated series, The One Less Traveled, a steamy collection of books involving a gorgeous hotwife, a dominant black man, and a reluctant husband who evolves into an eager cuckold.

Nick and Nicole are the quintessential married-with-children suburban couple. Nicole seeks a boyfriend. Nick wants a happy wife. When they search for excitement outside their marriage and connect with a rich, handsome black stranger who desires control, a tempestuous erotic ride through the rapids of a carnal cuckold relationship ensues.

~~~~~ PG Excerpt ~~~~~

“I thought you got lost out there. I was going to send a search party and maybe call 911,” I said sarcastically.

Irritation flashed in her eyes. “What did you think was going to happen? Besides, you don’t like to dance, and I do.” She grabbed her drink, and finished it in two swallows. I poured her another drink, although I didn’t add as much whiskey this time. I wanted her relaxed and happy, not drunk and pissed.

“You’re right, honey. Please don’t be mad. You stayed out there a little longer than I anticipated, and I felt neglected. I’m sorry.” I handed her the drink, and took her hand. “I want us to have fun tonight, so feel free to dance your ass off.”

She took a sip of her drink, then leaned forward and kissed me on the cheek. “Are you sure? Because I don’t want to upset you.” She paused and met my eyes. “So you’re sure you’ll be okay if I dance a lot with other men?”

“Absolutely.” I put on my most reassuring smile, and made the decision to open up and confide in her. “Actually, watching you dance with him turned me on. You looked hot, and he was clearly into you.”

“Good.” A playful smile curved her lips. “He was nice, but not really my type. So,” she added, and cocked her head at me. “It turns you on to watch me, huh?”

“Well…”

Just as she finished her question, her eyes rose from my face to something behind me, and a strong, deep baritone voice sounded over my shoulder.

“I apologize for interrupting, but you are absolutely gorgeous. May I join you two?”

The voice came around from behind me, and I got a chance to see the speaker, a well-dressed black man with sharp, expressive eyes and an easy smile. I stood as he moved around the table, and I realized that he towered over me by at least six to eight inches. Nicole stood, too, and smiled widely at him.

“Hi. My name is Collin,” he said, and took her hand. “I noticed you on the dance floor, and I had to come over and meet you. You are an amazing dancer.”

“Thank you.” My wife beamed up at him, and made no effort to take her hand back. “I’m Nicole. We don’t get out as often as we used to, and I really miss dancing.” She paused, and then motioned at me. “Sorry, this is my husband, Nick.”

He finally broke eye contact with her as she finished and mentioned my name.

“Nick,” he said, repeating my name as though he wanted to remember it. “Nice to meet you. You’re a lucky man.”

“Nice to meet you, too…and yes, I’m the lucky husband. Thanks for coming up and introducing yourself.”

I wanted to be gracious, and at first glance, he seemed like a genuinely nice guy. I figured it must take courage to approach a couple in a swingers club.

Nicole was devouring him with her eyes, so I motioned to the empty chair. “Why don’t you join us?”

His smile widened, and he nodded his thanks before all of us sat down. We were at a small round table that had three chairs, so we were able to carry on a conversation despite the music.

When the next song came on, he motioned at the dance floor. “Would you like to dance?”

“Yes.” Her reply was out of her mouth almost before he stopped speaking.

“Do you mind, Nick?” he asked, turning to me.

“That’s fine,” I surrendered with a forced grin. “You two kids have fun.”

My wife’s reaction surprised me. She’d always said that she didn’t find black men attractive, but she looked at Collin like a starving person at a buffet. I didn’t know if her taste in men had changed, or if she’d kept her taste for black men a secret during our marriage. Either way, my heart started racing as they walked away.

It was the cruise of the century--a once-in-a-lifetime extravaganza for those rich enough to indulge their wildest fantasies. The luxurious new Fairy Princess ocean liner would zigzag all across the planet, stopping at every exotic port and island and country. Few would be fortunate enough to afford more than a month’s travel--but the entire two-year trip was booked solid. It was an undertaking that would make the legendary Titanic look like a rerun of Gilligan’s Island.

And then the impossible brass ring--twelve elegant staterooms had been reserved for twelve lucky random couples, to hobnob with the world’s obscenely rich and shameless. The "Lucky Twelve" contest had commanded more media attention than the latest five presidential scandals combined.

Ex-Marine Mitch O’Neill couldn’t believe that he’d been randomly chosen. Things like that just didn’t happen to him! Then he discovered that the elegant young woman in charge of the grand voyage was none other than his estranged lover, Lady Guenevere Thurmond...and he was sure that someone had deliberately arranged for him to be on board.

Seven years ago, Gwen had vanished without a trace, only to explode into the media spotlight by marrying Lord Winston Thurmond, a British lord nearly 40 years her senior. Mitch had never forgotten, or forgiven, her heartless betrayal.

Who could possibly want to reunite them? And why?

Against his better judgment, Mitch finds himself unwillingly drawn to Gwen again. But Gwen is hiding a tragic secret of her own--and revealing it could cost her everything, and everyone, she holds dear!

~~~~~  Excerpt  ~~~~~

“Don’t you make a charming picture!”

Gwen was languidly brushing a long-haired pup when his bitter words rang out of the darkness. She knew that low, husky voice! And it was so achingly familiar that every nerve in her body went on instant alert, and her heart began to pound wildly. The brush fell from her numb fingers as she whipped around, hardly daring to breathe.

“Mitch?” His name emerged as a hoarse, disbelieving whisper.

“Don’t act so surprised.” Sneering, he emerged from the shadows, and balanced his long frame against the doorframe to keep it from tipping drunkenly back and forth. “You know very well that your loving husband arranged for me to keep you company on this delightful little pleasure cruise!

“Or was it you?” His eyes narrowed suddenly as stunned heat flushed her pale cheeks. “By God, it was, wasn’t it? You arranged to have me here! He doesn’t have a clue what you did!”

The blank shock on her face was too real to be contrived. But ripe fury was overwhelming his common sense. All the long-suppressed anger and betrayal was churning in his gut, bubbling over, finding a handy and oh-so-perfect target. And nothing else mattered but letting it spew out in a hot, vicious torrent.

“What’s the matter, sweetheart?” He took an unsteady step forward, and clenched his big fists until the knuckles turned white. “Finally tired of your feeble old charity case? Isn’t he man enough to satisfy your needs?” Oh, how he’d love to wrap his long fingers around her lying little throat and squeeze, until she’d paid for every sleepless night since the day she’d run away from him!

Gwen scooted back against the wall as terror and elation warred for command. Outrage won by a narrow margin, and gave her the strength to scramble to her feet. “What are you talking about? You aren’t...I didn’t...”

She sputtered for a second, then backed away again when he advanced, with murder clearly visible in his dark eyes. How could she have forgotten how big he was? Those rugged hands could snap her into tiny little pieces!

“Did you think I wouldn’t figure it out?” His arms shot out to block her escape, and he deliberately loomed over her, forcing her to cringe against the sturdy wall. “I’m no Einstein, but even a moron could see through your flimsy motives!”

“You’re insane!” Her voice shook as she punched both fists against his wide chest. It was like hitting a granite boulder. “Mitch, let me go!” Rising panic made her voice shrill as he crushed her between his muscular body and the wall. Every nerve began to scream warnings as she felt his unbridled rage... and God help her, his fierce arousal.

This wasn’t the Mitch O’Neill she’d worshiped, the consummate lover she still dreamed about every night! This man was a terrifying stranger, bent on destroying her!

His harsh mouth descended on hers, choking off her frightened cry. So familiar, and yet not... And even so, some insane part of her own mind arched into the savage kiss with a wild passion she hadn’t even known she possessed.

But when his long fingers closed over her tender flesh, something snapped. Just as he’d taught her all those years ago, she twisted slightly to one side, then brought her knee up with explosive force.

He was drunk--but no man alive could be drunk enough to ignore that visceral agony!

The air exploded from his lungs, and he staggered back a pace. That was all the room she needed. Snarling, she brought her knee up again, and felt it connect a second time, squarely on target. And as his long body folded like a snapped twig, she clenched both fists together and swung them, like an iron mace, at his unprotected throat.

“And you taught me never to lower my guard!” Panting, she glared down at his writhing frame. Serve him right if he walked funny for a whole month!

“Gwen...” His contorted face was a sickly green. “Jesus, Gwen!”

“You deserved it!” Vigorously she wiped a hand across her mouth. “Remember that the next time you get stinking drunk, you two-timing...”

Nicole’s sexual evolution continues unabated, and Nick finds himself swept up in the current of her growing sexuality. Nicole’s new friend, Cynthia, becomes a fixture in their lives, and despite his natural confidence, even Collin seems unsure where Nicole will take them next. What is certain is Cynthia’s desire for Nicole, and her willingness to do anything to secure Nicole’s affections. When Nick and Nicole's children start asking questions, they begin to question their travels down The Road Less Traveled.  

~~~~~ PG Excerpt ~~~~~

“Why did you drag me up here, Nikki?” Cynthia’s voice was teasing, but sultry at the same time. “I saw your boyfriend pick you up and kiss you.” Disappointment colored her voice. “What do you want with me?”

“I wanted to talk to you alone.”

Nicole’s hesitant, careful tone surprised me. Based on what I’d heard so far, I half-expected them to rip each other’s clothes off. Cynthia apparently caught the note of caution, too.

“Okay.” Her voice was tinged with a little concern. “What’s up?”

“Let’s sit down.”

“Oh, shit.” Her voice got a little harder. “Is this where you tell me you don’t like girls? Or that you have herpes?”

Nicole laughed. “Bitch! No, damn it. Come here and sit down.”

“Fine,” Cynthia said around a sigh. “Break my heart now.”

“I’m not going to say this right, so just bear with me.”

“Jeez, spit it out already.”

“Be nice,” Nicole snapped. “I like you…a lot, and I’m very attracted to you. Can I trust you to keep a secret? It’s important.”

My wife’s voice trailed off, and I pressed my ear against the door, desperately trying to hear everything. A maddening silence descended in the room for several seconds.

“Of course, Nikki, but why do you need me to keep a secret?”

“You know I have a boyfriend, right?”

“Yes. Honestly, I’m not interested in Collin.” Cynthia paused for a second before her voice became accusatory. “Wait, he doesn’t want to share you with a woman, does he?” She cursed softly. “Damned men.”

Nicole sighed loudly. “Would you stop interrupting?”

“Sorry. Sorry.”

“Collin is fine sharing me.” She giggled. “He’s like all guys…he loves the thought of two women together.”

“Don’t they all?” Cynthia’s tone held a little bitterness in it. “You should know that I’m not interested in being shared with your horny boyfriend.”

“That’s fine,” Nicole reassured her. “That’s why I wanted to talk to you privately. I didn’t want you to feel any pressure.”

“Good. A lot of the girls I meet immediately want to pass me over to their boyfriends. I don’t mind guys once in a while, but I prefer women.”

“You don’t have to worry about that with Collin and me,” Nicole assured her.

“Good.” Cynthia paused. “That isn’t all, though, is it?”

Nicole sighed. “No.”

“That doesn’t sound good.”

“My situation is complex. I didn’t want anything to happen between us unless you know it all first. It wouldn’t be fair to you.”

“Thank you. I appreciate it.” A short pause. “So what’s the bombshell? You’re really a guy?”

“No.” A pregnant pause. “I’m married, and I have two daughters.”

Nicole said it plainly, and silence descended in the room.

“Wait, you’re married, and you’re seeing Collin on the side?” Cynthia’s voice sounded impressed. “You go, girl.”

“Not exactly.” Nicole paused. “God, this is hard to explain.”

“I’m still listening.” A humorous, interested note tinged Cynthia’s voice. “And now I’m intrigued.”

“I’m married to an amazing guy, and I have two great daughters.”

My heart nearly burst from my chest! My wife said I was amazing! I’d take that any day of the week.

Several longs seconds passed with my ear pasted to the door before she continued, “Sexually speaking, I wanted more, and I asked my husband if I could have a boyfriend. He said yes.”
Nick and Nicole’s hotwife and cuckold husband experiment is a resounding success…until it isn’t. Their sexy triad seems poised for more exciting and erotic fun, until Collin unexpectedly disappears with Nicole, leaving Nick frantic with worry. Sheila senses an opportunity with Nick. Nicole, lost in her boyfriend’s spell, realizes her sexuality is still evolving when she meets someone new.

~~~~~ PG Excerpt ~~~~~

My phone rang right when we’d finished. It was Nicole.

“Hey, gorgeous. How’s the weekend going?”

“Great. I love you, and thank you again for letting me stay with Collin this weekend.”

“You’re welcome. Please come back to me when the weekend ends.” I was only half-joking.

“Stop! Of course I will.”

A loudspeaker in the background drowned out her next comment.

“Nicole, where are you?” The line was suddenly quiet. “Nicole?”

She sighed. “I’m at the airport.”

“Airport? Are you going out of town?”

“Yes, our flight is leaving in a few minutes.”

“Where are you…”

She hurried to interrupt. “Collin doesn’t want me to say.”

“What? When are you going to be back?”

“I’ll call you on Sunday. Okay?”

“Are you serious? No, it’s not okay! You’re leaving town, and you won’t tell me where you’re going, or when you’ll be back.” She didn’t respond, and the silence built until I couldn’t take it anymore. “What part of that is supposed to be okay?”

“You already agreed to Collin and me spending the weekend together,” she reminded me a little sharply. “What difference does it make where we go, as long as I’m back on Sunday?”

I snorted. “If I’d known you were going out of town, I might not have agreed. Also, what if something happens to you?”

“Nick, stop!” She sounded partly impatient, partly exasperated. “What’s done is done. I’ll call you when we land, and I’ll be back on Sunday.”

I didn’t respond. My hands clenched, and I ground my teeth together. I’d been taken advantage of by my wife and her boyfriend. I struggled with my anger, but I also struggled to manage my excitement. Their surprise decision to leave town for the weekend made me feel powerless, and while that bothered me, it also excited me. My cuckold engine revved hard, drowning my anger in lust, excitement, and delicious angst.

“Please don’t be mad, baby.” Now her voice was soft, soothing, and it lowered sexily as she talked. “I’ll tell you everything that happens when I get back. Besides, knowing I’m out of town with Collin turns you on! Doesn’t it?”

“Uhh…”

My weak response was as good as a confession, but I couldn’t think of a better reply. My wife’s voice strengthened with confidence, and a note of dominance laced her words when she pressed her case. “I belong to him this weekend. Not you. Behave, or you’ll wear that chastity belt until our kids graduate college. Understand?”

Every bit of moisture evaporated in my mouth. I swallowed several times, but still wasn’t able to think of a response. My growing excitement choked any thoughts of resistance, and my anger meekly submitted to lust.

I’d been an angry husband when we started our conversation, but after a few words from my wife, I’d transformed into a submissive cuckold.

The worst part?

I loved it. I yearned for it, in fact.

Damn!

My beloved hotwife wouldn’t stand for silence as a response, and her dominant voice stabbed my ear. “Answer me, cuck!”

“I under…” My voice broke, and I swallowed convulsively several more times before I managed a response. “Understand.”

“Good, boy. Now, we’re leaving in a few minutes. I’ll do my best to check in with you, but if last night is any indication, I’m going to spend most of my time naked and getting banged senseless.”

Her words flooded my system with sharp, jagged cuckold angst, and I barely stifled a moan. It was the kind of manipulation I enjoyed, and she knew it. She ruthlessly exploited my submissive reaction. She pushed all the right buttons, and I melted into a quivering, horny pile of cuckold goo.

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