New Second Chance standalone from Roya Carmen.
Torn by tragedy. Reunited by love.
NOW AVAILABLE!!
Amazon US: http://amzn.to/2cByIxC
Amazon UK: http://amzn.to/2dsgXCx
iBooks: http://apple.co/2cZE3ze
Nook: http://bit.ly/2cZD3ey
Kobo: http://bit.ly/2ct1q0l
Blurb
Torn by tragedy. Reunited by love. Two years ago, I lost my husband and my brother to the same tragedy. To this day, I hold only one person responsible—Aiden Rogers, the beautiful boy I’ve known forever, the misfit I’ve both loved and hated, the one who always got to me. As far as I’m concerned, he’s the only one to blame. Now he wants to be part of my life again—when I can finally see a future for my son and myself. I’ve found the perfect man in David, someone I can start over with, a man who will be the perfect father figure for Trevor. I have a plan. At last, I see the light, and I know I can make this work. I will not let Aiden Rogers drag me back into the darkness. Author’s note: contains sexual scenes and some coarse language.
This is the first book of the Riverstone Estate Series and can be enjoyed as a standalone read.
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The Riverstone Series: A beautiful estate. Three unforgettable love stories. Following the sudden passing of their father, Amber, Ruby, and Flynn Riverstone inherit the family estate and find themselves facing new challenges, growing closer, and discovering love along the way.
Excerpt
“The dress will need to come off,” I tell her with a playful smile—I want her to feel at ease.
She turns to the side and unzips herself, reaches for the skirt of her dress, and pulls it over her head. She’s wearing a sexy pink lace bra and matching thong. I wonder if she slipped those on thinking of me. Or David? I wonder how long it would take me to rip it all off. She peeks at me through her lashes, still shy but aroused. Her gaze finally reaches mine, and it’s pleading, begging me to come to her.
I kneel in front of her. I desperately want to kiss her—she’s just so beautiful. But I know that if I kiss her, I’ll get lost in her and I’ll want to make love to her. She and I together is a very bad plan. Too much history there, and even after all we’ve been through, I can only see her as Paul’s girl. But right now, she’s just a woman who desperately needs to touched, and I’m the man who desperately wants to touch her. I trace the lacy edges of her bra with my finger. She’s breathing so hard her chest is heaving. I pull the fabric with a finger and tuck it under, revealing her breast. Wow. Her nipple is pink, hard, and begging to be licked, but if I go there, I won’t be able to stop myself. I know myself too well.
She closes her eyes again, and I take her in—her soft stomach, her sexy legs. I eagerly make my way down. I stroke her thighs gently again, and she opens her legs for me. She’s arousing me so much it’s painful. I trail my hand between her thighs where she’s wet—the soft fabric, what little there is of it, is soaked.
She throws her head back, her mouth open—she’s gasping for air. Finding her wet like this and wanting to be inside her so badly, is so fucking hard on me. I try to remind myself that this isn’t about me; it’s about her. As bad as I want to do all the things to her I shouldn’t be doing, I know I can’t. I’m on a mission.
I reach for the string of her thong and tug down. I’d planned to be soft with her, but I find myself being hard. She props her rear up and her hands press against the mattress, tangled in the sheets. As I struggle with the fabric, she reaches for it and pulls the thong down with me. It’s clear that she wants it off. In that moment, I forget all about myself. All I want to do is please her and make her come.
I’ve never seen her like this. I steal a moment to savour the sight of her small patch of neatly trimmed hair and tempting pink lips. I’m so hard as I slip my finger along her wetness, slowly teasing her. I explore further, up along her sex to her sweet spot.
“Your body is yours, Amber.” I know her. I know a big chunk of guilt is probably lingering at the back of her mind, and I just want her to let go of that and enjoy the moment. “No one has a hold on it but you. It’s yours. All I want to do is to make you feel good like this. It doesn’t have to be anything more. Do you want this? If you don’t, tell me to stop, and I will.”
She lets out a cry and squirms as I pull my hand away for a second. She doesn’t need to say a single word. It’s crystal clear—she desperately wants me to make her come.
Filthy images play in my mind as I imagine all the things I would love to do to her. I’d love her legs wrapped around my head. I’d drive her wild, taking her to the edge and swiftly pulling back only to wrench her hard against me again. I’d sink into her and get completely lost in her. But I can’t do all those things, as much as I would love to. I can’t take this too far.
I’ve been cruel long enough. I’ve teased her plenty. It’s just so amazing to finally touch her. I reach for her sweet spot and feel her hard clit on the tips of my fingers. She wails and spreads her legs wider. I’ll take her over the edge in a few seconds, but I selfishly want this moment to last forever. Watching her like this—panting, a perfect breast hanging out of her delicate bra, legs spread wide for me—it’s the most gorgeous sight. I pull away from her, greedy as fuck. I want to hear her cry, to hear her beg. She winces as I pull my hand away. She opens her beautiful eyes, silently asking me why I’m being such a tease.
“Close your eyes,” I order, and she does. I don’t want her to see what I’m about to do. I close my eyes as I bring my finger to my nose and inhale her scent. It’s just as I always imagined. Then I draw my wet fingers to my mouth and taste her—so, so sweet.
“Please,” she begs. “Don’t stop.”
It’s just what I need to hear. With just another sweep or two of my fingers along her slick sex, she arches her back off the bed, opens her beautiful eyes to look at me again, and I finally make her come.
Seeing Amber, who is always so contained, so put-together, so perfect, get lost under my touch is unbelievable. The sight of her tiny hands grasping my mattress, her beautiful mouth wide open, the sweet sound of her cries bouncing off my walls—it’s almost too much. I’ve dreamed about this scenario dozens of times, and the real thing is even better than it ever was in my imagination.
About the Author:
Busy mom, naughty writer, comic-addict, artist & designer, book-aholic, nature lover, and hopeless romantic.
When I’m not writing, I can usually be found hanging with my family, reading, camping and travelling, painting, yoga-ing (very ungracefully), shooting pool, or at my favourite bookstore café with my book friends.
A Northern French-Canadian gal, I now live just near Toronto where it’s much, much warmer!
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