Love bad boys?
Do I have the ultimate one for you. I've mixed this sexy satyr with a good fairy who really wants to be bad. When they're together, the world shifts.
SURRENDERING TO THE BEAST
Book 2 - Taming the Beast - erotic paranormal-romantic comedy
AVAILABLE FOR PREORDER
When she's good, she's very good - but when he's bad, she's better...
It’s definitely not business as usual at From Crud to Stud, a makeover service for supernatural beings. Dare we say it? Receptionist Heather—a good fairy with a pure heart, mind and body—is on the fast track to exquisite corruption with Daemon, a satyr.
Sex has never been this good or adventurous. Half man, all beast, Daemon’s the ultimate bad boy, a follower of the god of wine and a good time. Before, during and after his makeover to look fully human, he intends to put some color into Heather’s pale cheeks.
She’s one conflicted but turned-on babe. Especially as Mistress Jin, a genie Daemon commands, agrees to show Heather how to cut loose. Under the mistress’s tutelage and Daemon’s shameless lust, Heather’s gonna find out what love and having fun is all about.
Not your typical bedtime story. May lead to indecent behavior, a taste for voyeurism, discipline and bondage, which will result in screaming orgasms. Proceed with caution.
She pushed her feelings aside. “Before anyone can give you a treatment here, I have to ask you some questions. I’m sorry, but those are the rules. Please answer truthfully, so there aren’t any complications.”
“You mean problems? What kind? Oh, hey, my cock won’t get soft, will it? Jesus, are my balls going to shrivel? That would totally suck.” He paced, or rather clopped, across the room. “If that happens, you will be able to make me better, right? I mean, do what you have to. Touch me, rub me, take me in your mouth. Whatever puts me back to the way I was.”
Her legs wobbled. She leaned against the counter for support. “Ah…” She cleared her throat. “Every client who leaves here is whole. We make certain of that.”
“Thank God.” He released a huge sigh. “So are there ever good complications?”
“What do you mean?”
“Maybe unintended consequences is a better way to say it. You know, my rod getting longer and harder. I’m not complaining about the way I am now, but hell, I wouldn’t mind an extra inch or two.”
Heather wiped sweat from her neck. “I can’t be absolutely certain, since I don’t do treatments, but I think the only things you have to worry about are your hooves, tail and horns. We really should begin. Are you allergic to anything?”
“Do cowboy boots count?”
She held back a smile. “I’m sorry about your poor hooves. It must have been awful to have to walk here.”
“Hey, one more mile and I would have been sobbing like a disgraced politician. Ow. Damn.”
He dropped his hat on the floor. Bloody stumps protruded from his hair.
She pulled in a breath. “What happened to your horns?”
“Broke those suckers off.”
“To get the stupid hat on.” He touched a stump and winced. “It’s not as bad as it looks.”
She ached to heal him but had to get through the paperwork first then secure his payment. Shivering, she returned to her form. “Have you had any major illnesses?”
“Nope.” His tee sailed past her and landed on the counter.
An inexplicable urge to press her face to his shirt hit her hard. She couldn’t think of anything except taking in his sublime scent, pure freshness mixed with musk.
Something rustled and fell to the floor.
Heather guessed his jeans and forced herself to concentrate on her questions. “Are you currently taking any magic potions?”
“Just wine. I’d kill for a zombie, though—the alcoholic kind—or a boilermaker.”
After checking no, she read, “Has anyone cast a spell on you within the last six months that altered you significantly before you went back to your original form?”
“Not unless a wish is like a spell, which I hope it’s not,” he muttered beneath his breath. “Let’s just say if I’d gotten what I’d wanted, rather than what I asked for, from MJ—who knows better and should do better when it comes to pleasing a Master—I wouldn’t be here. You can save the questions. I’m spell-free and healthy as a horse. No different from when I was born, except bigger.”
“I have to ask.” Heather wondered who MJ was and what he’d meant about pleasing a Master. She turned and stilled.
He was less than a yard away and nude, gloriously so. His pecs were smooth and hard, his tiny nipples the same color as damp earth. His abs were so defined they could have been carved from stone. Silky dark hair trickled beneath his navel to his hairy groin. Rooted in those curls was his…uh…his…uh…
The indecent term rose unbidden in her mind, possibly because Becca and Constance used the word when they talked about guys. Heather finally understood why. Nothing else could describe how ungodly thick his shaft was. Probably a foot long and rigid. Ready to party.
Her mouth went dry. She should have fled but didn’t, preferring to ogle his lightly furred balls. Another obscene word from Constance and Becca that described his sac so well.
His long tail was silky like one on a horse, but also prehensile like those on monkeys. It snaked around his thigh and made a beeline for her.
She needed to back away but couldn’t. “What are you doing?”
“Sorry. My damn tail has a mind of its own.” He slapped it down. It jumped right back up and zipped toward her again. “See?”
His tail wrapped around her waist and reeled Heather in, smack against his solid chest. She froze. The damp clothes had left him slightly chilled. Miraculously, his skin grew hotter by the second. Hers did, too. His thickened rod brushed her thigh and lengthened an additional inch or more.
Uh-oh. She ordered herself to fight whatever was happening. Nothing on her moved except her thoughts. You should pull away. Now. Right now. This is so wrong. This is—
She sagged into him, unable to resist. Gold flecks brightened his irises. His heat and powerful form made the world go away. “What?”
He stared at her.
She did the same with him. “Huh?”
“I didn’t say anything.” He touched his nose to hers. “Did you?”
Answering wasn’t something she could manage. Every word she’d known went bye-bye.
“Okay.” He fitted his mouth to hers.
Heather forgot how to breathe.
His lips were unspeakably soft, his breath hot and scented with liquor, his caress gentle but so wrong. They didn’t know each other. They’d barely met, if she could call it that.
She parted her lips to say something, anything, maybe even to thank him for such a wonderful yet immoral moment.
Daemon slipped his tongue inside her mouth, his kiss wet, searching and shameless, straight from the Dark Side.
Her skin tingled and her toes curled. Breathtaking feelings she’d never known and couldn’t have predicted whizzed through her. Whether they were supposed to or not wasn’t something she could answer. She had zip experience with mortal or immortal men. Even her thoughts were always pure.
His tongue tasted better than any food she’d ever eaten. His masculine scent and everything else about him thrilled her, even though it shouldn’t.
Because it did, she enjoyed him.