She shivered as he said the words and he moved his hands over her hips, sliding over the silk of her panties to the hem of her white T-shirt.
“Is your shoulder going to be okay if we take this off?” he said as he paused.
She raised her arms. “My shoulder is fine now.”
Still, he carefully eased the T-shirt over her head and arms. When the shirt was off, he set it aside, and he looked at her, taking in her black panties and matching satin and lace bra.
She bit her lower lip as he traced the line of her bra, skimming her breasts with his callused fingers. Her entire body grew sensitized, his every touch making her want him that much more.
He watched her as he cupped her breasts and ran his thumbs over her satin-covered nipples. They tightened and ached and she wanted nothing more than to feel the warmth of his mouth on them.
Unable to move her gaze from his, she arched her back, pressing her breasts against his palms. His eyes seemed to burn like blue flame as he reached behind her and unfastened her bra. He slid the straps down her arms and bared her breasts.
Excerpt…
Inked
“Tattoos and Leather” bondage ménage series
by Jaymie Holland
They were here again.
Double Trouble. Two-riffic. Twice Blessed.
Megan Faircloth had a lot of nicknames for the twins, never mind the wicked fantasies they triggered every time they strolled past the room of typists at Dorian International Imports.
She sat in her tiny cubby to the left of the door and forced herself to keep her head turned toward her computer screen. It was no good, though. Her eyes kept darting to the dark-haired gods as they sat on the visitor’s couch near the entrance to the executive suites. She carefully dislodged one of her ear buds so she could hear the men if they said anything.
They never did.
Tall, dark, and handsome—check. Hard, muscular bodies beneath those suits—she’d bet her grandmother’s photograph on it.
And silent as two chiseled stones, they never said a word.
They had to be identical, not just fraternal. They were the same height. They wore the same expensive-looking charcoal suits, and both of them carried dark brown leather briefcases. Their black hair was the same length, cut close, but not too close. They even had the same eyes, blue as sapphires, hard and wary as they scanned the halls before taking iPads out of their briefcases and getting to work.
Megan imagined their Facebook pages. Handsome and Just as Handsome. No, wait. Sexiest Twins on Earth.
They probably had names like Dirk and Rock.
And their Facebook pages would be private anyway. No droolers allowed.
She had no idea why the men had been coming to DII every Friday for the last two months, but she wasn’t complaining. It was the only excitement she’d had in weeks.
Dead-end job. Dead-end life. She sighed and tried again to focus on the letter she was supposed to be typing.
Men like those two would never give her a second look. They were the types to drink champagne with supermodels on private planes jetting to Madagascar, not hang out with administrative assistants who had nothing to offer but curves, freckles, and a big smile.
Megan put her fingers back on the keyboard and corrected a couple of obvious typos. It wasn’t like she planned to spend her life doing office work, but she didn’t have the money to finish college and there was no rich relative to foot the bill. Hell, she barely had the money to make rent. Her roommate, Drew Holloway, kept trying to get her to sign up as a consultant to throw Sweet Sensations parties, but just thinking about doing something like that—heat rose to Megan’s cheeks.
Her eyes drifted from her computer monitor, back to the gorgeous suits and muscles outside her door, and—
Oh, God.
One of them was staring at her.
Her entire body went rigid as Twin One’s blue eyes fixed on hers and held her gaze. Megan’s breathing nearly stopped, and her pulse pounded fast in her throat. Her cheeks had been warm before, but they flamed now, and she felt the hot blush kiss her neck, even her ears. She had never had such a total full-on view of one of the twins, and she noticed something on the left side of this one’s neck. A dark swirl, or some sort of mark. Maybe a thorn?
Was that a tattoo?
Megan’s thoughts instantly rushed to what he would look like with that jacket off and his pressed shirt unbuttoned to show her the full cut of his abs—and the pattern of his ink.
What would a man like that tattoo on his chest?
I’m losing it.
Twin Two slowly raised his eyes from his iPad. Megan’s gaze shifted wildly between the men as they both examined her from foot to knee to hip, and higher. She wished she had worn something sexier than her comfortable khaki skirt and her old short-sleeved pink sweater, but their expressions left little doubt that her clothes hid nothing from them.
And her screaming blush didn’t do much to deny her interest, did it?
Then she realized they had focused on her dislodged ear bud, as if they both knew she had been hoping to eavesdrop on their conversation.
Twin One lifted one finger and made a tsk-tsk movement.
Twin Two’s lips twitched into the barest hint of a smile.
Megan thought she might die right where she sat, of embarrassment, of pathetic desire, she didn’t even know which would be fatal faster.
The executive suite door opened, shattering the moment.
Megan jumped. She crammed her ear bud back in place and positioned her fingers on the keyboard, tapping mindlessly and hoping she didn’t look too guilty.
A man in a blue suit greeted the twins with handshakes. They stood and tucked their iPads back into their leather briefcases. Without giving her a second glance, they strolled after the man in the blue suit, letting the door swing shut behind them.
Gone.
Just like that.
Why did that make her want to scream?
Something is seriously wrong with me,
she thought. Then, unable to help herself, she typed,
Gorgeous
. Then,
Delicious!
She deleted the words and put her face in her hands.
Breathe. That’s it. Nice and slow…
It took a while to get back on track, but Megan finally managed. She had trouble not glancing at the doors to the executive suite, though. Five minutes went by between checks, then ten. Half an hour. An hour.
Sooner or later, the twins would come back through, and when they did, maybe they would notice her again…
About Cheyenne
New York Times
and
USA Today
bestselling author Cheyenne McCray’s books have received multiple awards and nominations, including
*
RT Book Reviews
magazine’s Reviewer’s Choice awards for Best Erotic Romance of the year and Best Paranormal Action Adventure of the year
*Three “RT Book Reviews” nominations, including Best Erotic Romance, Best Romantic Suspense, and Best Paranormal Action Adventure.
*Golden Quill award for Best Erotic Romance
*The Road to Romance’s Reviewer’s Choice Award
*Gold Star Award from Just Erotic Romance Reviews
*CAPA award from The Romance Studio
Cheyenne grew up on a ranch in southeastern Arizona. She has been writing ever since she can remember, back to her kindergarten days when she penned her first poem. She always knew one day she would write novels, hoping her readers would get lost in the worlds she created, just as she experienced when she read some of her favorite books.
Chey has three sons, two dogs, and is an Arizona native who loves the desert, the sunshine, and the beautiful sunsets. Visit Chey's website and get all of the latest info at her website and meet up with her at Cheyenne McCray’s Place on Facebook!
Table of Contents