Authors: Rachel Blaufeld
The Electric Tunnel Series
Tinged
(Coming Soon)
Crossroads Series
Absolution Road (
Coming Fall 2015)
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That’s me—Tingly Simmons—athlete, foreign-language major, professor lover, obsessed idiot girl. Definitely not a frat rat or sorority slut. I’ve never even played beer pong.
I ditched the vapid, soulless high-society life of Los Angeles for the promise of something more meaningful in rural Ohio. Accepting a track scholarship for college, I tried running my way to happiness, but instead I ended up sleeping with my French professor and falling head over heels for him.
When that relationship fell apart, so did I.
Barely hanging on by a thread and using the most absurd coping skills, I was determined to hide behind my past indiscretions. That was, until I met Tiberius Jones. Never in my wildest dreams did I think I’d learn the truth about love from a six-foot-five basketball player.
For those who believed in me from the beginning—you know who you are. You’re
my
truth.
And for those of you who discovered love in the most unusual places . . . and let it bloom.
This story took on a life of its own from the very beginning. It wasn’t what I was supposed to be writing (
I know, I know
), but I simply couldn’t avoid it coming to life in my head. I sat down at my laptop and it poured out of my fingers. One minute it was a dream of mine and the next, a twenty-thousand word document, so I had to move forward with it.
In order to make it all work, I had to exert some artistic license in terms of athletic seasons, as well as dates and times of college events. I also made up a college town and team, so fans could go on cheering for their very own universities and not be hindered by my story.
This whole being-an-author thing for me is mostly about making people think, and this book is about recognizing
that the truth isn’t always what it seems. After I tossed many stereotypes out the window, Tiberius and Tingly quickly came to life.
I hope you enjoy their story.
Last August
A
lthough my back was pressed against the door, my entire body surged forward, seeking him. If I’d been in a dream or
having an out-of-body experience, I would have seen my long limbs and lean torso straining to get closer to the man in front of me. My heart was beating to the most vibrant pace I’d ever experienced. I felt like I was practically coming out of my skin to get closer to the horny, hot-blooded man caging me against the door.
Mon dieu
, he was like a god. His hands were splayed against the wall on either side of my head, and my legs were wrapped around his waist. I was in heaven
,
and it had only been a few hours since I’d last visited this paradise.
My pelvis rocked back and forth, searching for his erection and my salvation. They were one and the same, the only balm I needed for the yearning that centered between my legs, but burned everywhere else.
I wanted his hand down there, or maybe his mouth. Or both.
“Pierre.” I moaned his name as I moved, trying to connect my sensitive spot with his cock. Desperate, I craved friction like I imagined a habitual smoker longs for a cigarette.
“
S’il vous plaît
,” I begged,
please
, then sucked in a breath to indulge in a long inhale of his cologne into my lungs. It was something fancy and French, of course, and another in the long list of reasons why I was head over heels for my Frenchman.
My older Frenchman
.
He shifted his hips away, teasing me, and I whimpered with need, making a noise that unfortunately sounded like a dying guinea pig. I was so desperate for him. He was my world, my universe. I wanted to spend the rest of my life lost among the planets circling his orbit. He was the moon and I was a lowly stalk of wheat bowing to him in the middle of the night, and I didn’t care what that said about me. I was that weak and pathetic when it came to him.
I’d never lived a moment until Pierre was buried inside me. We didn’t need to profess our love for each other or send each other cute texts. When he claimed me with those slow, languid strokes in and out of me, I knew he was the one to make everything else go away. Far away. He was the man of my dreams, and I wanted him inside me right that second, that very millisecond. I was an extremely demanding girl.
Finally, he ran his hand inside my panties and separated my folds with his slim fingers. He dove in with one finger, then two, and my body bucked into his strong, yet well-manicured hand.
My head fell back against the wall with a soft thud. “Oh, baby, more,” I managed to wrench out.
And then he lost control as I’d been hoping and praying he would. When I heard my panties tear and drop to the floor, I moved my hand to his zipper and opened his khakis, firmly grasping what I wanted. He was conveniently commando, hard and ready. I rubbed my hand up and down his length, pumping him. Before I knew it, my hand was pushed away and he was deep inside me, riding me fast and recklessly.