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A hot ski instructor, an African American woman and a murder… 🥵
If you’re interested in HOT romance stories, you’ll love this spicy winter romance. With a hot Swiss European man and a sexy black woman, this interracial romance will keep you on your toes. Snowstorms, sex scenes, Swiss men… oh my!
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Steamy hot holiday romance Extra Stuffing coming soon to Amazon! Scroll down so you can check out the description and read this lengthy free sample of this interracial romance story launching in a few days.
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If you enjoy sports romance stories with HOT alpha males and SPICY love scenes, you'll enjoy this read.
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Description:
GRACIE GOODWIN
We broke up… For a good reason too.
So why did I fall into Peter Roman’s arms so easily?
OK, it might have something to do with the fact that he’s smoking hot and plays for the NFL now.
But there’s something I haven’t told Peter — something that could change the way he looks at me forever.
PETER ROMAN
I want Gracie back. I don’t care what I have to do to keep her.
I’m not the dumb a$$hole I was in college.
I’m different and I have the bank account to match.
No matter what, I’m going to make her mine.
This time, we’ll last forever.
2017.
New York City
“I want to fuck you.”
His gruff, husky voice weaseled its way across my neck and into my ears. My pussy throbbed. I couldn’t believe I was here again. Ten years after college and here we were again in each other’s arms. Except this time things were different. Trust me. Peter Roman clutched my hips and pressed me against the wall. I giggled as my back smacked against the drywall and I submitted my weight to his powerful grasp.
“Easy cowboy.”
I giggled, always light in Peter’s arms.
“Just take those fuckin’ panties off,” He growled.
I couldn’t say no. I eased out of my panties, giving Peter access to what he wanted.
“I’ve missed that beautiful pussy of yours,” He muttered as he rolled a condom on his cock.
I imagined for an NFL player, that was quite the compliment. Yes, ten years later, Peter Roman wasn’t just my college ex-boyfriend he was a starting quarterback for the New York Giants. He’d grown a lot since then, in so many ways. There was part of him that had stayed exactly the same and at that moment, that was the only part of him I cared about.
Peter hoisted me up against the wall again and tilted my neck to the side so he could graze his tongue along the length of it and press his lips to mine. He’d become a much better kisser over the years. He smelled different now too. He’d ditched his cheap Axe body spray for Armani cologne. His scent drove thrills down my spine. I felt Peter’s hardness pressing against my wetness. I gasped as he began to slide into me… and I slid back into 2007.
Memories of ecstasy flooded me. This part had never been bad between us.
His cock pushing past my entrance forced my tightness to stretch. Making love to him always felt sinful, like a betrayal of my common sense. (This time, it really might have been.) I moaned as his full nine inches thrust my pussy lips apart, sending pleasure shooting through my body.
“Ohhhh,” I cried out.
“Easy babe,” He moaned.
Peter thrust one last time hard into me. I gripped his back and he began pumping into me furiously. Our loud banging against the wall meant all his other house mates (you know, New York Giants) could probably hear every last whimper and moan. With Peter’s thick cock plunging between my folds, I couldn’t bring myself to care. I moaned as I climaxed. No one’s home anyways. Right? My eyes rolled far back into my head. Black spots in front my lids threatened my consciousness. Peter pumped into me a few more times until I climaxed again. My thighs shuddered. I pressed my heels into his buttocks, securing him closer.
Then we were done with the wall. I wrapped my lithe legs around him and squeezed tightly as he moved my slight frame from against the wall of his large, Tribeca bedroom to his king-sized bed. Peter and his teammates might have had to share an apartment in the city but trust me, this was not the type of apartment sharing that goes on between broke post-graduates.
As my head touched the pillow of Peter’s bed, he wasted no time before plunging into me again. I couldn’t even appreciate the down pillows or the cozy firmness of the mattress. Maybe that was for the best. Peter thrust into me deep. I cried out and arched my back to meet his ardent thrusts. He pushed my hair out of my face and planted a long kiss on my lips as his hardness penetrated my damp cavern and forced me into another climax.
“Cum for me baby, cum all over my big dick,” He grunted.
I exploded, juices leaking from my wetness as Peter continued to slide between my hot folds. I dug my nails into his back as I quivered beneath him. I ran my hands through Peter’s hair again. From college, his hair hadn’t thinned at all; his blond strands were just as thick as I remembered. He kissed me again and whispered into my ears. The sound ticked the hairs on my neck.
“You’ve gotten hotter Gracie… I wish I could cum right inside your tight little pussy.”
I cried out again as I came. The thought of Peter emptying his seed inside me was both terrifying and thrilling. My toes curled as shivers of pleasure forced my thighs to quiver with desire. I almost begged him to take the condom off. But I was different — responsible now. I wrapped my thighs around him as he continued to pound into me. Peter always got too dirty when he was hard. The heat of the moment subsumed him.
“Fuck me Peter… Harder…” I whimpered.
Peter obliged, pressing his cock into my little honeypot deeper than before. I gasped as his cock reached untouched depths of my wetness. My pussy gripped him like a vice as he kept pumping me with those slow, deep strokes. He couldn’t hold back any longer. His touch had sent my brown skin ablaze with desire and he responded to it. My writhing and moaning beneath him had forced an eruption. Peter grunted as he came.
I felt his monstrous cock pulsing with startling rhythm whilst buried deep between my legs. I couldn’t help but whimper again as he forced the walls of my pussy to tremble. Peter pulled out of me with a big, bad, naughty look in his eyes. He could see how climaxing had shaken me loose. My shoulders visibly relaxed and my breathing slowed.Peter pulled me up so I could sit up in his bed, my perky breasts hanging down whilst my dark nipples pointed at him. He tilted my chin up to kiss him as he rolled the condom off.
“I’m not finished with you yet.”
He disposed of the condom and then ran his fingers through his long blond hair. That was another way he’d changed. His blond hair now hung down to his shoulders, like Thor in those old comic books I used to steal and then sell to the boys in my elementary school class at a mark up. As I ogled Peter coming back into bed to join me, the only thing on my mind was that I was so glad I’d left Hell’s Kitchen for this.
I’d gone south to this man from my past, to the man I hadn’t spoken to in nearly a decade up until two weeks ago.
Peter joined me on the other side of the king-sized bed. His apartment’s cavernous size reflected so much of how I viewed him: larger than life; fantastical almost. I hadn’t known Manhattan made bedrooms that could accommodate a king.
“So,” Peter started, running his hands through his hair again, “Why can’t I come to your place. What are you so afraid of?”
I looked into his green eyes and told him the truth.
“You.”
“Stop bullshitting,” Peter chuckled.
I wasn’t “bullshitting”. Peter and I hadn’t exactly ended on good terms. While he’d become an NFL player, I’d lived a whole life too. He didn’t know me anymore and I didn’t know him. I’d pursued my dreams and I’d made a hell of a lot of them happen. What I hadn’t done was figure out how to let a man back into my life the same way I’d let Peter in so many years ago. I was finished with that. Falling into bed with him scared me because it didn’t feel like progress. Chronic high achiever as I was, I needed to feel like I was heading somewhere.
I preferred things this way: my world was mine and his world was, well, a place I could visit every once in a while.
He could sense my discomfort. I didn’t hold out hope that he could grasp why I was so uncomfortable. So much time had passed since Michigan. We hadn’t spoken since the day of our breakup. Then again, we’d fallen into bed with each other again within two weeks of reuniting. It was as if no time had passed at all in the bedroom. I had to be careful. Could I really have casual sex with Peter Roman? Not after our history together. Casual was all he could do. That had spelled trouble for me before. I had to force myself to be wary of him. So no — no seeing my Hell’s Kitchen studio.
Bed was the last place I wanted to talk about the past. It had been six months since I’d even seen a man’s junk and the last time I had, trust me, he wasn’t nearly as attractive, successful and skilled as my ex-boyfriend.
“You have nothing to be afraid of,” Peter lied. (I assumed he was lying.)
I grinned, masking my discomfort, “I’m too old to believe that.”
“Well if you don’t believe me, let me at least try to prove it to you.”
He leaned in and kissed me. A kiss proved nothing.
“How on earth would you do that?”
“Shhh,” Peter hushed me and then pressed his warm lips to mine.
He pushed me onto my back and spread my legs wide, urgent and sudden. I thought Peter would slide between my legs again but I was wrong. He kissed the fleshy mounds of my bosom and then my flat tummy and then he spread my legs apart and ogled my dripping wet pussy that he’d just been buried inside of.
“You look… delicious…”
He paused as if pondering something serious.
“I can’t wait to eat you ’til you scream.”
Maybe Peter had changed. Giving oral hadn’t exactly been his biggest passion when we were dating. (Had he changed in other ways?). He spread my legs wide and ran his finger along the length of my wetness. I shuddered as the soft pad of his index finger flicked across my clit. He spread my pussy lips apart, ogling the engorged, purplish brown lips before diving his tongue between them.
I gasped as Peter’s tongue went deep between my folds. Pleasure exploded from my core and I slammed my head back into the down pillow. My hips thrust upward, following my body’s natural undulations. Peter pressed my thighs into the bed forcefully and continued to slip his tongue between my inner and outer pussy lips. He wrapped his lips around my engorged clit and began to suck on the hardened nub until I yelped in pleasure and faded into soft moans.
“OHHH!” I moaned, “YES! YES DADDY!”
I could practically feel Peter smirking. He began to lap at my folds faster, getting me wetter and wetter. I moaned and whimpered in pleasure, my mouth twisted into an opera singer’s perfect “O” as I belted out notes of pleasure. I climaxed hard, forcing juices to ooze from my honey pot and onto Peter’s lips. Sweat pooled at my forehead and every inch of my skin flushed a deep mulberry. He seemed to be savoring the taste of my juices as he stopped to lick his lips and then dove hungrily between my legs for more.
His greed meant my pleasure. I cried out and climaxed again as he began to thrust his hardened tongue into my entrance. He used his tongue to make love to me, to squeeze out every last drop of desire that he could while he could. My body dripped in sweat, my thighs trembled and my pussy quivered as I came again. Peter’s tongue and lips were relentless. Just when I thought I would be free from these non-stop earthquakes of pleasure, he would nibble gently at my folds and dive his tongue in again, slipping between dripping folds.
It took him hours and over twenty climaxes before he tired of pleasuring me with his tongue. My pussy was dripped, swollen with desire and reddened. Desperate for a fresh breath of air, I pulled away from Peter as he lifted his head from between my legs. He ran his hands through his hair with a dopey little smile on his face. I pressed my elbows into his firm mattress and then raised my back.
“What?” I asked.
“I’ve never seen you cum like that before.”
I rolled my eyes. I was pretty sure he had seen me cum like that before. Many times. It’s just that each time, it was new to him — exciting.
“Don’t make me blush,” I teased.
“I’m not joking.”
A decade had passed and I knew that Peter Roman was dangerous for me. Still, I was drawn to him. Less of a cynic and I would have blamed fate. When we’d broken up, a bomb had gone off in my dating life. I still hadn’t finished picking up the shrapnel. I picked at my nail beds, waiting for him to say something else, or maybe waiting to come up with something to say that sounded witty or flirty.
“Thanks for answering my call,” Peter said, still grinning like a high schooler who stumbled upon his first PlayBoy.
Two weeks ago was the first time I’d talked to him since our break up. It didn’t take long for us to take reminiscing to lovemaking. It had switched in an instant as if the lack of closure alone had forced us together. The major difference was that now we were older and in theory, wiser. This was just supposed to be two old friends in their thirties meeting up to scratch each other’s itch. It happened sometimes. Dating was hard.
At first, I’d thought that I was the only one who had showed up to Peter’s apartment with lingering, decade-old feelings. Then he kissed me again.
It wasn’t the kiss that changed my mind though. It was what he said afterwards.
“I’ll be in Tribeca when I’m not playing out of state. If you won’t let me see your place, I’d better let you know that you’re welcome at mine.”
“It’s not that I don’t want you to see it,” I lied.
“Then what?”
Okay, it wasn’t a full on lie. But it wasn’t a full on truth either. I didn’t want to let Peter in because letting him in had proved dangerous. I didn’t want to let him in because my studio apartment in Hell’s Kitchen that I’d worked my ass off for looked mediocre compared to his six bedroom penthouse in Tribeca. I knew it was absolutely stupid to compete with my ex who played professional football, but I couldn’t help it. I wanted to prove I’d thrived after the breakup. Doing better than him meant I won — after all, he couldn’t break me.
At least that’s what I told myself. I wasn’t broken.
Then the scary thought entered my head: What if he’s right? What if he has changed, and I’m the one stuck in the past. How did that place me in my unspoken contest?
“I just can’t take you back to my place okay? The neighborhood’s shit.”
Peter chuckled, “Gracie, we grew up in Queens for fuck’s sake. Don’t be fooled by all this bullshit.”
“Oh so what? You’re a down to earth guy?” I teased.
I knew from the tabloids that Peter was likely not a down-to-earth guy. Not like I resented him for it. Hell, if I had millions of dollars from throwing a ball around a field, I’d be pretty cocky too.
“Yes,” Peter replied, “I am. If you read the tabloids, you’ve got the wrong idea about me. I’m Peter Roman from Queens. Just a regular guy.”
I looked away from him, worried that if I looked into his green eyes he’d read my thoughts again. The blond strands that framed his face were caught in my peripheral vision. He exhaled warm and deep. The peppermint on his breath wafted over to me.
Fine. According to him, the tabloids were lying. But that didn’t mean we hadn’t broken up on horrible terms and then never talked about it. That made this sort-of-romance unusual
“Why did you call me?” I asked.
There goes Gracie, always looking for trouble.
“Because I missed you. Plus, you’re the only person in this fuckin’ city who doesn’t look at me funny.”
Right. Poor him. As an NFL player, Peter couldn’t go anywhere without people going gaga over him. I still went gaga over him, but it wasn’t because of the NFL thing. I guess he wasn’t adapting well to fame.
“So I should feel sorry for you because you’re famous?”
Peter chuckled, “No. You should feel sorry for me because I’m a man in my thirties who plays for one of the most popular football teams in America and I still get lonely.”
A rare moment of vulnerability for Peter. I stared into his eyes again. He was genuine. He pulled me in for another kiss. Trusting him had been too hard for me. I was the one who had ruined things, ruined us. I’d pushed him into someone’s arms.
“I can tell you’re over thinking,” Peter whispered.
“Hm?”
“Don’t play dumb with me.”
I picked at my nails again and looked away from him.
“Listen Peter, I need to go.”
“Right,” Peter nodded, “Why exactly?”
“Because,” I lied, “I have work in the morning”
“Uh huh. I’ve got practice. So stay over and I’ll have my driver get you to Hell’s Kitchen in time for work.”
His driver? Peter and I really did live in two different worlds. Panic settled in my chest, forcing my heart to push against my ribs. My nail beds ached.
“No, it’s fine. I’ll enjoy the walk.”
“You’re walking?”
He stood up, always ready to step in and take charge.
“Only to the subway.”
“Bullshit. I’ll pay for a cab.”
“You don’t have to,” I argued, dressing quickly.
Peter dressed faster and he was far more stubborn than I was.
“Stop messing around Gracie. I’ll get you a cab home.”
I was reminded of our petty arguments from our university days. A smile warmed my face and this time, I decided to let Peter win. We walked out of his room and thankfully, none of his other bachelor housemates were around. I didn’t get along well with them. If I thought Peter could be an asshole, I thought his house mates were the supreme creators of asshole-ry.
We took the elevator down. Peter kept looking at me as if he were trying to read my mind. I kept trying to stop him. My mind was spinning, over thinking, over worrying, absolutely terrified. I’d just had the best sex of my thirties (I wasn’t very far into my thirties, but still) and the only thing I could think about was something that was buried a decade into the past.
The doorman tipped his hat to Peter and I as we left. I wondered if I’d get the same reception on my own as a black woman in this neighborhood. Peter hailed a cab. Cabs couldn’t ignore all 6’5” of him and instead of waiting a yellow cab skidded over to us. Peter took out a wad of cash and directed the driver toward Hell’s Kitchen.
Before opened the door to the cab, he held my waist and kissed me.
“Don’t be a stranger, Gracie.”
I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed him back.
“I won’t be.”
Peter opened the door for me and I slid into my free cab ride to Hell’s Kitchen. When I got home, I couldn’t sleep. I knew I had to bring up the awkward, ugly, elephant in the room with him eventually, but I didn’t want to. I knew I was making the same old mistakes I had been in college. I knew that communication was important. But I couldn’t help it. Peter Roman made me scared. Whenever he was around, I always had to face those ugly parts to myself that I’d kept hidden.
Being in love with him had made me crazy. I didn’t want to risk that happening again.
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The Situationship romance novel excerpt will give you a taste of a HOT, steamy and unconventional romance between an African American woman and a white man. If you love romantic stories, you'll enjoy this best-selling BWWM romance novel.
Check out the description here:
LOLA HOPKINS
Not quite a friendship, not quite a relationship
Some women would consider that a HOT MESS
But not me.
I liked no-strings-attached fun with Mark.
That is, I liked it until I got pregnant...
Will I ever convince this playboy to settle down?
MARK JAGGER
I love Lola, but I can't hurt her
My ex-wife will never accept me getting serious with another woman.
I need to keep Lola at arm's length to keep her safe.
But these days, she's been getting so damned clingy.
I can't figure out why...
This book is for lovers of hot and steamy action between the sheets. If you enjoy romance between beautiful, strong black women and handsome, alpha male white men, you'll enjoy this book. Take a look inside to get a taste of what you're missing...
This BWWM novel is an extra-steamy read so hot it might melt your Kindle.
Does this sound good to you? Great. You can click the link here to get the book ASAP: http://amzn.to/2v3Jiar
Keep reading to get the excerpt:
Chapter 1
Side Chicks?
Lola Hopkins
I knew what kind of guy Mark Jagger was when I met him and that drew me to him like a fly to honey. He was everything I was looking for in a man when I’d met him. Mark was 6’3” tall and he had short cropped dirty blonde hair, killer white teeth and a body like a God. After a few drinks, I was hooked. I hate to say it but I was even more attracted to him when he told me he was “polyamorous”.
That night we didn’t sleep together but Mark explained to me what being with him entailed. He was seeing three other women and they all knew about it. They were free to see who they wanted and he was free to see who he wanted, as long as they were honest about it. I remember when he told me that at the bar, I almost burst into tears.
Thankfully, I didn’t. But after what I’d been through with Darius, I felt like I was witnessing a miracle. Mark was honest — up front. I didn’t mind that he was seeing other women because hell, I’d already been through it with a man who had a whole family. At least Mark was honest.
And his honesty kept me hooked for two years. Yes, I’ve been seeing Mark for two years and that whole time, I’ve known about the other women he’s seeing. It’s easier that way. I don’t have to worry about him lying and I don’t have to worry about him expecting much from me.
Since I’ve met Mark, I’ve been promoted twice and now I’m the Chief Financial Officer in the company. I have twenty-five people working under me and my office is almost as big as that first condo I moved into. I live in an even bigger two bedroom condo and I bought myself a white BMW — cash. I don’t need a man to take care of me. I only need a man to be honest with me.
And despite his unconventional lifestyle, Mark is honest.
I had him on the weekends for the next six months so I showed up on Friday as we’d planned. I let myself in with my key to his place and I went upstairs to get dressed. Mark was the kind of guy who was both kind, but dominant. He had specific tastes for women and instructions that all his girls had to follow on their nights. I didn’t know his other girls very well, but I knew that a part of why Mark loved me so much was that I was different from any woman he’d ever dated.
I’d fallen into his routine so easily and outside of our confusing “situationship” we made decent friends. I looked at the clock in Mark’s bathroom. Twenty minutes until he got home.
I’d just finished shaving everything and I slipped into the lingerie Mark had placed on a white wire hanger for me. The black teddy hugged my curves and the thong slipped between my ass cheeks, highlighting my gorgeous buttocks. I let down my hair, which was 18” long and totally natural except for the flat iron I ran over it every morning. I slipped into the knee high stockings Mark had left me and clipped them to the garter hanging from the teddy.
The final piece of the outfit was a pair of six inch Louboutin heels. Mark liked spoiling me like this, even if he knew I could afford everything he bought me and more all on my own. With fifteen minutes to spare, I worked on my makeup. I brushed dark shadow around my grey eyes and finished a smokey eye makeup look. I’d been waiting all week to see Mark and I knew when he walked in through that door, he’d rock my world.
Life got so much better for me when I learned to keep things casual with men. With Darius, I’d made mistakes. I’d thought all men were like my daddy — good, honest and willing to go the distance. But I’d learned that modern love was a lie. And as I’ve told you, Mark was honest. If there was a potential for love here, we’d never allow ourselves to explore it. We were a generation built for casual encounters, not lasting love, and I had to force myself to be “ok” with that, despite my childhood dreams of a big wedding and everlasting love.
If such a thing had ever existed, I was convinced that it had died many years ago.
I heard Mark walk in and I stood in the doorway to his bedroom waiting for him. He bounded up the stairs knowing what awaited him. When he saw me in the doorway, Mark let out a loud, long whistle.
“Holy shit that looks good on you.”
I spun around in the doorway giving him a look at all my goodies. He whistled again.
“Like what you see?”
Mark scoffed, “Hell yeah I like it. Come here baby.”
I strut towards him in my heels and let Mark wrap me in his arms. After a hellish week his arms engulfed me in the kind of warmth and comfort that I needed. He tilted my chin up towards his lips and then kissed me long and slow. He gripped my ass cheeks as he kissed me and pulled me closer.
“Mmmm,” I mumbled as he pulled me in for a second kiss.
“I can’t believe how good this looks on you.”
I pulled away from him and smirked, “You probably say that to all your girls.”
“Maybe you all look good.”
I dove in for another kiss. Mark gripped my waist again and I could feel his dick stirring in his pants. He wasn’t a man for wasting time at all.
“Easy there, we have all night,” I reminded him.
He pulled away, “You’re right. Tell me about work today.”
“On second thoughts,” I replied, “Maybe we should just get right to it.”
Mark grinned. The tricky bastard. He knew the last thing I’d want to get into was figures and tables, especially not with a guy that looked like him standing in front of me.
“Wine?” Mark offered.
“No thanks, let’s just head into the bedroom.”
He grinned and followed me. I knew he was checking out my ass as I walked ahead and Mark couldn’t help himself but to whistle again as I reclined back on his kingsized bed. He kept his eyes on me as he started to strip down to nothing. I watched as Mark revealed his body piece by piece.
He pulled off his work shirt and his rock hard abs came into view. Mark was the biggest gym rat I’d ever seen — spending hours a day sculpting his body despite the fact that he was one of the highest paid anesthesiologist in the country, he always found time to dedicate to his physique. He didn’t just look good for forty; he looked good compared to anybody.
Mark undid his belt and slipped into just his underwear. His dick bulged through his boxer briefs and I felt my pussy stirring with anticipation as he walked towards the bed. Mark’s dick redefined my perception of a “big dick”. He wasn’t just long, but his dick was thick and huge veins wrapped around his beautiful, dusky pink member.
As Mark climbed into bed with me, he pulled me close and started to kiss me on the lips again. I ran my hand down his abs and grasped his cock through his boxers. He pushed me onto my back and positioned himself on top of me. He kissed and kissed me, letting his hand trail over the lace teddy that covered my body.
I kicked off the heels and allowed Mark to trace the outline of my hips and to squeeze onto bits of my flesh as his hands roved over my body. Mark’s hands hovered outside my pussy lips and he began to massage my mound slowly through my lingerie. I began to writhe beneath him, encouraging him to reach for my clit and start coaxing me to climax.
Mark stopped abruptly and then moved back up to kissing my lips. He used his hands to slip the teddy off my shoulders, around my voluptuous breasts and down to my hips. Mark struggled to slip the outfit around my buttocks, but soon I was lying there naked before him — no more lingerie and no stockings. Half the fun of the outfit was pulling it off me.
He looked at my shaved wetness between my legs and licked his lips.
“I’ve been waiting all day to taste you.”
He began to kiss my stomach and then the top of my mound. I squirmed as his tongue traced my thighs and my desire for him deepened. Mark squeezed my thighs and spread my legs open to allow himself greater access to what was between my legs. He inhaled the scent of my wetness and groaned with euphoria.
He loved my scent, my wetness and my taste more than life itself. Receiving Mark’s kisses between my thighs drove me wild. He knew exactly where to touch me and for how long and he could bring me to writhing, shrieking orgasms at the slightest touch. Mark was great in bed — better in bed than anyone I’d been with. What made him even better was the fact that I didn’t have to worry about him. I could just be.
I gasped as Mark’s tongue made contact with my clit for the first time that night. I squirmed slightly and he pressed my thighs into the bed holding me still.
“Don’t move,” He commanded.
I obliged him and tried to hold my breath as Mark began to lap at my pussy greedily. I held still, but I couldn’t keep quiet. I let out a loud moan as Mark’s tongue grazed my clit and as he eagerly sucked on my pussy lips and the flesh between them.
“Ohhhh yes!” I cried out. I could already feel a climax coming close.
“Don’t stop,” I whimpered again.
Mark had no reason to stop. He squeezed my thighs and began to lap his tongue at my pussy more furiously. I moaned and moaned but Mark just kept going. His tongue spread my pussy lips apart and pleasure began to surge throughout my body.
“I’m cumming… I’m cumming…” I whimpered.
As I writhed beneath him in the throes of climax, Mark only sucked at my pussy lips more furiously. Stars began dancing before my eyes as I gasped for breath and trembled beneath Mark’s grasp. He began to focus his attention on his clit as I writhed beneath him and catching my breath grew harder and harder.
Explosions of euphoria started in my core and emanated out to every inch of my flesh. I managed to reach my hand over to grab Mark’s hair and I tried to pull his face away from my wetness but he wouldn’t let up until I reached another climax. After I’d cum again, Mark pulled away from me. Before I could catch my breath, he pressed his lips to mind and thrust his tongue into my mouth.
I sucked my sweet juices off his lips and when he pulled away I looked at him with awe.
“That was amazing.”
It always was amazing. Mark was the most attentive partner that I’d ever had and I’d hit the jackpot with him. He knew how to eat a woman out and he had alarming stamina.
“We aren’t done for the night babe,” He informed me.
I nodded, “I know.”
“Good. I can’t wait to rock your world all night long.”
I knew he meant it. With Mark, I could always have the guarantee of a good time. I pulled his face closer to mine and kissed him again.
“Maybe this time I’ll have some wine.”
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Blue Eyed Hunk: BWWM Cowboy Romance Novel
Blue-Eyed Hunk is Jamila Jasper's latest 50,000+ word interracial romance novel. For all who love BWWM books and are interested in pregnancy romance books, you'll want to check this book out.
This contemporary romance with pregnancy features a brilliant, independent black career woman and an attractive, salt-of-the-earth white rancher who she can't help but fall in love with.
This story deals with heartbreak, friendship, and deep, deep feelings of love and romance. Check out the description and of course, the romance novel excerpt included below.
Description:
Imani is the new African-American girl in small town Oklahoma.
Ajax is the sexy, white rancher tasked with helping her settle into town.
Ajax looks at her like he wants to rip her clothes off but Imani has sworn off men -- especially suave alpha males like Ajax.
Not even Imani can resist the lean, muscular cowboy, no matter how badly she wants to say "no".
1 FLYOVER COUNTRY
Nothing about Oklahoma sounded appealing to Imani when she’d first heard about the assignment. She loved travel and she loved the wilderness but Oklahoma was beyond wild. It wasn’t the countryside, the coyotes or the bears she worried about — but the people.
Imani was accustomed to forward thinking urbanites. She was accustomed to having access to corner stores and black hairdressers and places she could go and see her people. If the agency sent her out here, she’d have to spend months around people who could probably go months without seeing someone black, or anyone with color to them. It wasn’t that Imani had a problem with the white westerners, she just feared that they’d have a problem with her.
Ever since things had ended with Brian, Imani felt like a town in the middle of nowhere would be the perfect place to heal. Imani tried to get some sleep on the plane instead of thinking of Brian, but it was difficult. Four years of love had been torn apart in an instant and now everything they shared together had evaporated, leaving Imani alone to face life’s challenges alone.
Imani had tried everything to convince Brian to stay. She’d offered to learn Korean — the language he spoke. She offered to spend a year in Seoul. She lost twenty pounds. But Brian wanted to leave. That’s what Imani had trouble understanding. He didn’t care about their cultural differences or about all the promises he’d made to Imani. Brian’s father had died leaving him about $700,000 and Brian wanted to travel the world and experience what the world had to offer. Imani was sure a part of that meant becoming a bachelor again and experiencing the fine women too.
The ring he’d given her had been just another trinket. Something to keep her with him until something better caught his eye.
Imani tried not to think about it too much. She tried not to let her self-esteem take the natural dip that comes when your lover of so many years decides that uncertainty is more powerful than his feelings for you. Imani looked towards her work partner on the plane. Franco didn’t have to worry about problems like this at all. He didn’t seem to be worried about anything. He was sleeping — hard — on the trip to Oklahoma and unbothered by everything. Franco was the one who had finally convinced Imani to take the plunge and leave behind all the drama of the East Coat for six months.
Hung up on self-torture, Imani began to look through the pictures on her phone. Brian was still in many of them. He was tall, handsome, strapping and always had that far off look in his eye like he was thinking about being somewhere else. Now, Imani felt foolish for not noticing. Even looking at pictures of herself, she felt like she was looking at a stranger. She was still short, she was still a deep umber color and she still enjoyed wearing shoulder length wigs in various styles and colors. But she didn’t look like herself in those pictures. She was a ghost.
It was as if Franco could sense she was making a bad decision. He’d always been gunning for her to stay away from Brian. As Imani got swept up in deep reminiscence about the relationship that had ended, Franco roused from his slumber.
“Imani… What are you doing?”
“Nothing,” She said, too hastily, concealing her phone under the fleece blanket that was draped over her lap.
“Yeah right. You were obsessing again, weren’t you?”
“I wasn’t!”
“Give me the phone!”
“What phone?”
Franco reached under Imani’s fleece blanket and grabbed onto her phone, swiftly unlocking it. Imani didn’t even bother ask how he’d figured out her pass code.
“You need to stop this Imani, okay? It’s not healthy! Brian is half-way across the world and now it’s your turn to travel and just soak it all in. He’s an asshole you need to move on.”
Imani scoffed, “Well visiting Oklahoma is hardly backpacking in Tibet…”
“And so fucking what? Brian gave up a chance with you to live out a teenage fantasy. In your thirties, you’re supposed to settle down. So I’m going to need you to stop feeling like shit and just prepare for the work we’re about to do.”
“Right.”
“Listen, you’re smart Imani. Very smart. Don’t let this guy play you.”
Franco held onto Imani’s phone and then tilted his head back like he was going to sleep again. Imani resented how correct Franco was about all this. He had been there for her when everything started going south. He’d been there for her when she could barely keep it together at work and he’d prevented her from getting fired over it.
Imani tapped Franco’s shoulder.
“Mm?”
“Can we at least chat about the project before we land?”
Franco raised his head again and nodded. At least keeping him focused on the science would ensure Imani didn’t start “obsessing” over Brian again.
“So John got a call from a group of regional activists that fear this town — Homer — might be in some need of environmental advocacy. There’s very little enforced regulation out here and people in neighboring towns are starting to get sick from their water. Someone, somewhere is polluting and we’re supposed to find out who they are. And where they are. They think some of the ranches out there might be polluted.”
“Great…”
“Well we’ll also need to find out if any land owners are being affected by someone else’s pollution. They may be entitled to federal compensation.”
“Right. So where are we staying out there?”
“There’s a small motel and we’ll each have separate rooms… Shared kitchen. Gina organized the whole thing. So don’t worry, if you meet any sexy cowboys, you’ll have a place to take ‘em.”
“Very funny,” Imani said, rolling her eyes.
She didn’t think that she’d be taking home any cowboys, sexy or otherwise. A town like Oklahoma probably didn’t have any attractive men. They’d all be the kind of guys who smelled like cow manure and had no idea what a subway was. Or something.
After thirty more minutes of science-talk with Franco, Imani noticed the plane descending.
“Almost there,” Franco said, “It’s going to be real different from New York. Ready to receive the shock of your life?”
Imani nodded.
“Any idea how these people are in terms of politics?”
Franco chuckled, “Let’s just say conservative. Their science text book is probably the Old Testament.”
“Oh boy. What are we getting into…”
“Just relax Imani. It will be fine. Remember, you can’t judge them before you get to know them.”
Imani chuckled, “Easy for you to say! I can’t hide behind black…”
“You’re a smart cookie though. You’ll figure out how to keep these people from getting under your skin.”
Once the plane landed, they disembarked on the smallest airport that Imani had ever seen. Then they got into their ordered car towards Homer. The drive there was uneventful. They drove past cornfield after cornfield. Imani starred out the window as Franco made conversation with their driver. Their driver seemed tickled by the presence of rich “city folk”. Imani didn’t think of herself as rich. But compared to the small towns she saw peppering the dry, rural landscape, she understood where their driver could have come up with that idea.
Imani caught Franco’s eyes a couple of times in the rearview mirror. She was worried about how he would fare in Oklahoma too. He had a life back east but he wasn’t big into dating. Imani wasn’t sure why. Franco was attractive enough. He was tall, cared about nature and the environment as well as a religious weight lifting schedule. He had long brown hair and hazel colored eyes that glimmered whenever he talked about any of his scientific passions.
When they pulled up in front of the hotel, Imani understood why their agency had opted to put them up here for a few months. The costs had to be low, especially for such a long stint. As the car pulled up, the driver turned around and said to Imani.
“You know ma’am, I’m just warning ya to be careful ‘round here after dark. Don’t be fooled by the small town charm.”
Imani wasn’t sure what to say so she uttered an uncomfortable, “Thank you,” in response.
Franco checked in for them and carried both their bags up to the second floor rooms. They separated ways to enter their bedrooms and begin unpacking. The TV in Imani’s room didn’t work. Perfect. At least then she could be mostly unplugged from the outside world.
They’d outfitted a special suite for Imani and Franco. Their two rooms were completely separate but they shared an adjoining kitchen and bathroom. They’d definitely be wanting to cook out here. Imani couldn’t imagine what sort of restaurants they had, but she doubted they made anything close to what she could cook. Or Franco. Franco made Italian cooking better than any restaurant and he loved cooking too.
Imani unpacked everything. She didn’t have much with her. Boots for the field, then a pair of regular sneakers. Jeans to wear in the field. T-shirts. Warm clothes. The tiniest bit of makeup. A spare pare of glasses. Her tablet. Her phone. Her computer. Soil testing kits. A spare wig. Once she was done unpacking, Imani noticed how quiet it was. It felt unusual.
Imani knocked on Franco’s door.
“Before dark, can we explore?” She asked as he opened it.
Franco chuckled, “Girl, of course. I’m done unpacking but I need to get a coat.”
Franco suited up and then the two of them left the hotel room. Imani felt safer walking through the streets with Franco by her side. They’d been friends for years and Imani had always enjoyed seeing a new place with Franco. He had that fun, exuberant attitude that made the unfamiliar intriguing as opposed to stressful.
Oklahoma was warming up already. April meant that some parts of farming season had started and that buds were just breaking up through the earth and turning their faces towards the sun. Franco wanted to take a car into the downtown area, but Imani insisted upon walking.
The walk proved to be worthwhile. Oklahoma was flat, and in some respects boring, but it was teeming with wildlife unlike anything Imani had ever known. This was the real countryside. There was a sense of divine earth energy here that Imani couldn’t help but fall in love with. Just breathing in the air, she felt at peace. If she could just close her eyes and experience this land without the people, and without working, Imani was sure she would love it.
She hadn’t been camping much — only for work reasons — but she bet that some places out here had excellent camping grounds.
Once they approached the small town, the natural beauty deconstructed and it turned into a typical tiny town. There were pawn shops, general stores and tattoo parlors that all met on one big Main Street. Well, Main Street was bigger than any other street although it was hardly big compared to Fifth Avenue. Here, there were two restaurants, the Post Office and a library that looked about the size of Imani’s East Coast apartment.
As they walked through the streets, she held onto Franco’s arm. There weren’t many people there, but the ones they ran into shot Imani bizarre looks of disgust. Imani thought she might be losing her head. She had to be imagining the intense stare downs and snarled lips.
“I feel like people are staring at me Franco!” She whispered.
Franco shrugged, “Maybe they are. We’re not from ‘round here and I bet these people aren’t too fond of tourists.”
Imani doubted very many tourists came here anyways. She and Franco walked into a few of the small shops. The clothing was definitively Midwestern. There were wide brimmed hats, leather vests, cowboy boots, cowhide, coonskin caps and more. Nothing that Imani would ever buy — not even as a souvenir.
While they were in one of the little shops, Imani got the distinct sense that they were being followed. Franco seemed oblivious to it all, but Imani could tell that the smallish shop owner had his eyes glued to her back.
“Y’all need anything?” He asked.
Imani jumped out of her skin. The man was standing a few inches behind her at most, almost as if he’d snuck up on them on purpose.
“No, we’re just looking around,” Franco replied, seeing Imani’s surprise and stepping in.
“Lookin’ ‘round. Right. So y’all don’t need help?”
“No thanks.”
“Well don’t be gettin’ up to trouble or stealin’ nothing. Us folks ‘round here are armed.”
He looked Imani dead in her eyes as he said the word “armed”. She felt a chill run down her spine. Something about the way he was looking at her just felt off. Before Imani or Franco could respond, a man walked through the door of the shop.
“Jethro!” The man called to the shop owner, “Are you hasslin’ these out of towners?”
Jethro turned to face the man who had just walked in with a scowl on his face. Imani could tell instantly that they didn’t like each other.
“Why don’t you mind yer business? I ain’t come into yer place of business and tell you how to run things.”
“Just leave ‘em alone. They ain’t from ‘round here but they’re with the government.”
Jethro didn’t seem any more impressed by the revelation that Imani and Franco were with the government. Based on how run-down the town look, Imani could guess that they weren’t too thrilled with how things were being run. Government employees wouldn’t easily win them over.
“How did you know we were with the government?” Franco asked.
“Easy,” The strapping man who had just entered said, “Ain’t any tourists in Homer and y’all look like you’re here for a reason. Ain’t too hard to put two and two together.”
The man tipped his hat to Imani and said, “Plus, I know ain’t any tourists pretty as this one.”
Imani blushed and looked down. The man didn’t take his gaze off of her and she felt herself blushing uncontrollably. She hadn’t felt so giddy around a man in a long time. Everything about it was unfamiliar. This particular local was handsome too. He had brilliant blue eyes and blonde hair that looked bleached from hours in the sun.
Without giving a name, he continued, “Don’t let Jethro here scare you off. He’s just afraid of people who don’t look like they’re from Oklahoma… It’s why he married his cousin you see.”
“You little son of a bitch…” Jethro muttered, turning bright red.
“M’lady. Hope I run into you again,” The man said with a grin, flashing a boyish wink at Imani before leaving the store.
Franco turned towards Jethro who was sputtering madly at the door and said, “Uh… Thanks sir for your time. We’ll be heading out.”
He grabbed Imani’s arm and they left the store. Imani turned back once they were on the street, trying to catch sight of the blond cowboy who had flirted with her in the store.
“Who was that guy?” Imani asked.
“See? I told you that you’d find a nice cowboy,” Franco said with a grin.
“Oh shut it. He was just being friendly.”
“Uh huh.”
“I’m not looking for anything out here Franco. I just want to test the soil, wait for the results and do our job out here.”
Franco smiled. He knew that getting Imani to actually cut loose would be a project and a half. She was determined to be stoic and reserved. Franco knew that she’d been burned pretty badly by Brian, but he still wanted her to at least get a start on moving on. Hell, Brian had certainly moved on. Franco hadn’t bothered to tell Imani how much he knew about that.
“Nothing wrong with having a little fun,” Franco replied.
They took the long way back to the hotel. Imani listened patiently as Franco talked about how excited he was to take a look at some of the flora and fauna of Oklahoma. Well, Imani tried to listen. Really, she was thinking about what had happened between her and Jethro, the store owner.
Once she was safely in her room, Imani decided to do a little more homework on Homer, Oklahoma. When she’d jumped into the assignment, she hadn’t actually researched much about the town. She knew Franco wouldn’t take no for an answer and she wanted to just do something spontaneously for once in her life. But Imani had to admit this was more than just her prejudices about small town folks. Something about the people in this town gave her the creeps. The way Jethro had practically threatened her felt off too. In fact, as far as Imani could tell, the only normal person in the town was the guy who had come to their rescue in Jethro’s store.
Imani typed “Homer Oklahoma” into her search engine and the first result sent chills down her spine.
“10 Sundown Towns Black Travelers Should Veer Away From”.
Imani clicked on the link and saw Homer sitting at #4 on the list. Sundown towns. Oh boy. Imani flopped back in bed and wondered what she had gotten herself into. Tomorrow she’d have to head to work at the various ranches around town and she’d have to face the people in this town without showing just how terrified she was.
About twenty minutes later, Franco knocked on Imani’s door.
“Yes?”
“Can I come in?”
“Sure,” Imani replied, letting out a long sigh.
She allowed Franco to enter her bedroom and sat up on bed. Imani shut the laptop. Franco had such a positive attitude about the town and she didn’t want to ruin it by worrying him. Franco joined her, sitting at the foot of her bed. He was looking at her with a stern, fatherly expression. Franco said nothing for a while and Imani was forced to break the silence.
“Yes?”
“I came here to check on you. I know you’re taking the break up with Brian hard and… I wanted to see if you needed to talk.”
Imani sighed. Of course she needed to talk.
“Remember that night Brian cheated on me?”
Franco chuckled.
“Yes. How could I forget?”
“After that night, I convinced myself that I wouldn’t take Brian back. I convinced myself that cheating was the last straw. But still. I accepted more. I just kept taking and taking… I kept destroying parts of myself for him and now I just feel empty.”
“Brian was an asshole.”
“I know but… You don’t understand Franco. You don’t understand how hard it is for me to get over him. You don’t get the magnetism…”
Franco nodded.
“Wanna go outside? I need a smoke.”
“Sure.”
Imani wrapped the fleece blanket around her shoulders, slipped into her bedroom slippers and followed Franco onto the motel balcony. The “vacancies” sign was glowing bright red (except it was missing the letters c,n, and i). Imani wouldn’t have been surprised if they were the only guests at the hotel. She doubted that Homer received many visitors.
Franco slipped into his pocket and pulled out a packet of Marlboros. He lit up and offered some to Imani which she politely declined.
“You know,” Franco said after taking a long drag, “I understand you and Brian better than you think. I get you Imani. I get what you love about Brian. First of all, he wasn’t hard on the eyes. He was smart too. And he always made you feel like if you were with him, somehow you were better than other people. Isn’t that right?”
Imani nodded. She hadn’t expected him to, but Franco understood her attraction to Brian better than most people.
“He wasn’t afraid of anything and because of that, you felt like you were untouchable too, right?”
She nodded again.
“But none of that was real Imani. I’m just telling you this as a friend… Not to be an asshole. None of it was real. Brian played you because that’s what he does and it’s not your fault.”
“It’s not my fault,” Imani whispered. She wasn’t sure if she was convinced. But she appreciated Franco’s commitment to trying.
She wrapped her arms around Franco and gave him a big hug. He continued to smoke with one hand and hugged Imani with his other arm.
“So what? Oklahoma is supposed to be a fresh start?”
Franco laughed.
“Yes. Why don’t you try going after that tasty cowboy.”
“Franco! No!”
Franco laughed again.
“We’ll see I guess… I bet there are quite a few other sexy farmhands in this part of town…”
Franco finished his cigarette, had another one, and then they both turned in for the night. Even if Homer sent a shiver traveling down Imani’s spine, she was starting to have some kind of hope that this could be her fresh start. At least here, there was no way she could get lured in by Brian’s silver tongue again. She would show him that she could thrive without him. She didn’t need to keep destroying her life to uplift Brian’s.
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