September Blues

 

I’m a summer person. Every year, right after the Christmas celebrations, I start looking forward to the end of winter and the start of spring. It’s much nicer to be outside when it’s warm and the first leaves begin to unfold. I enjoy working in my garden, clearing away the remains of winter, raking the dead leaves, and watching nature come alive again.

Then comes the best time. When it’s warmer, you can take longer rides through the woods. There are fewer insects, so they won't bother you or the horse. I enjoy the long daylight and warmth during summer. I don’t mind the heat either. You can relax in the sun, read a good book, or ride your bike along the river. It’s a great time!

I dread the end of August, when the nights grow cold and the days are no longer warm. My horse doesn't mind though — he’s got fur! LOL! I get the blues in September, knowing that summer is over and fall will bring gusty winds, rain, and fewer hours of sunshine. It’s time to harvest the last apples in my garden and prepare for winter. The outlook is never pretty: cold days and cold nights. I leave for work in the dark and return home after dark. It's a good time to stay home, write, or read a good book to distract myself from the nasty outside world.

Most of my books were written during the darker half of the year. Here, I present an excerpt from the final installment of my Bodyguard series featuring Jazmin and Ethan.

In this final adventure, Jazmin and Ethan face different fates, separated from each other. They must both solve the riddles that circumstances throw at them, and neither knows how the other is faring. While Ethan protects the Secretary of State, Jazmin must partner with a wounded CIA agent who escorts her from a bombing site to a safe house. There, she has to take care of him.

 

A Bodyguard in Bolivia

Excerpt

Marcus looked at her with pain in his eyes. He hadn’t changed his position on the rug in the bathroom and looked even paler than before.

She knelt beside him. “Hey, welcome back.”

“Did you run some knives through my body?”

“Yes, but only blunt ones. How do you feel?”

“Shitty. Like fucked and stepped on by some heavyweight vin-Diesel-type.” He swallowed. Briefly, a smile broke through as he looked at the sweatpants and T-shirt she had borrowed from his cupboard. “Nice wardrobe. It appears we’ve got the same outfitter.”

“Your blood ruined my Gucci two-piece. Can you get up?”

“It’s nice and warm here.” He begged with his eyes. “I always wanted to spend time on a rug. I’ve never done that before.”

In spite of her worries, Jazmin was touched. “I’ll help you up. It’s better for you to lie in a bed than on the floor, don’t you think? Come on,” she insisted when he didn’t move. “You made it this far. You’ll make the three steps to the bedroom, too.” She took away the blanket.

Marcus gasped when he tried to push off the ground one-handed. “Fuck! That’s not gonna work.”

“I said I’d help. God, you’re one stubborn mule.” Jazmin grabbed his upper arm. “Get on your knees, then slowly onto your feet. I’ll steady you.”

“That hurts, too.”

“You have a cut on your thigh. I stitched you up.”

“And took away my pants, too? That’s what I call thorough.”

“Shut up and move!”

Swearing under his breath, Marcus got to his feet, his head hanging, and panted like a runner. He leant heavily on her, but shuffled into the bedroom, biting his lips. “Home, sweet home.”

“Have you always been a sarcastic idiot?” Jazmin asked.

He sat on the bed and she arranged the pillows for him to lean against. When he strained to inch backward, she lifted his legs on the mattress, then glanced at his face and saw his grin.

“I’ve been an idiot until the day of my promotion to sarcastic idiot. But thanks for the praise.”

Jazmin lowered her chin, smiling in spite of the situation. She felt caught in an absurd scene from a Jim Jarmusch movie, where tragic and comedy walked side by side.

“It’s a good sign you aren’t slapping my idiotic face again.”

Jazmin shook her head. “I didn’t want you to collapse.”

“Not so soon. Anyway.” Marcus touched her hand gently, and she felt him shiver. “Of all the deep-in-shit things that happened today—I can’t say how happy I am you helped me out.”

“You saved my life.” Her voice was small, and the terror of the tragedy hit her with might and main. “My life, but…” She turned away and wept, her face hidden behind her hands and shoulders heaving.

“Jazmin…”

“I…I’ll get you the blanket.” She fled the room, only to stop in the corridor, blind with tears and shaken by fear. She knew nothing about the incidents at the conference building, nothing about the fate of the others, and nothing about the man in the bedroom. In all the tragedy of the day, he could be the one pulling the strings behind the bombing.

·         * * *

 

It was an editor’s choice book in the month of its release

http://www.extasybooks.com/editors-choice/?utm_source=MadMimi&utm_medium=email&utm_content=Great+deals%2C+Giveaways+and+more%21&utm_campaign=20180721_m146351109_New+releases+from+Zenina+Masters%2C+Charlie+Richards%2C+Giveaways+and+MORE%21&utm_term=eXtasy+Books+Editor_27s+Choice+Books_21

 

visit my website www.annraina.com

 

I’m on Instagram ann_raina_author

 

 

Not Just a Summer Fling...

 

After writing five books, my muse and I realized that Ryan Griffith, Ethan Mahoney's partner and sidekick, was getting way too little attention. Ryan was the goofy, young guy. He was a professional bodyguard, but also a man who had not yet settled down. He loved playing pranks on his fellow partners, and when it came to partying, he was the last one standing. So, we decided to write a story with him in the spotlight. The result was a novel that starts as an easy summer fling.

Two young people just want to have fun in the sun and go about their business when their vacation ends. But then Ryan is accused of murdering the recently elected mayor of Lima, and all hell breaks loose. The evidence seems overwhelming, and Ryan is thrown in jail. He quickly realizes that he’s alone, doesn’t speak the language, and is facing criminals far more sinister than he had ever imagined.

My muse was very happy with the brainstorming process—the sudden change from sunbathing to showering with thugs and from swimming in the sea to fighting for his life. (She’s not shy about putting on a dramatic show! LOL!) We had the chance to showcase Ryan’s character and demonstrate that the seemingly carefree man can stand up for himself.

Due to its length, the story was published in two volumes.

 

Here’s an excerpt for you to enjoy…

 

Excerpt (the summer fling begins…)

Sara’s hand traveled across his shoulder beyond his collarbone. Smiling tentatively, she bit her lower lip. “Hmm, I noticed you shave your chest.”

Ryan, smiling lopsidedly, told her with a glance it was quite a change of subject. “Yes, I do. I read that most South American men consider this…strange and would never do it.”

“I haven’t seen it before. Most men like that mass of hair as if it makes them more…manly. Stress their heritage or their male accessories. I don’t see it that way. A man shouldn’t be judged by his hair…or lack of it.” Sara giggled. “May I?”

“Touch my chest? Do you think you need permission after we’ve already played in the water?”

Sara smiled and gently reached out to touch him with her fingertips.

Ryan cocked his head, lowering his chin to give her an inviting grin. “Now, that was kinda shy. May I ask you again—will you touch me? And put a little feeling into it?”

Sara flicked her tongue across her lips, brows arched. “Are you…shaven someplace else? Beyond your face?”

Ryan hesitated, evading her glance once again. “Yes.”

She put her hand over her mouth, holding back her words, but with a sparkle of curiosity asked, “Why?”

Again, Ryan hesitated.

“Too personal, hmm?” Sara flinched. “Sorry. Sometimes my mouth is faster than my brain.”

“It’s just a good feeling,” Ryan said quietly. “I like it that way.”

Sara nodded, inching closer to put both hands on his chest, gently caressing him up to his shoulders. In slow-motion, she sat on his lap in a way that sped up his pulse immediately. His mouth was dry.

“Would you mind me…?” She stopped, searching his face.

Ryan swallowed, putting down the bottle. The tension had been building, and still a part of him didn’t want to follow the feeling. His voice was breathy. “You want permission to have a look? Or more?”

“I’d go for more.” A smile curled the corner of her lips sans lipstick. He found her lovely just the way she was. “And I bet I won’t be disappointed.”

***

Find my books at annraina.com

Follow me on Instagram at ann_raina_author

All my books are published by extasybooks.com and also available at online bookstores.

 

 

 

 

 

"Do you have a specific person in mind when you write?"

  

People often ask me that when I talk about my books and the characters my muse and I create. To be honest, I love watching movies and TV shows, so I know many actors and actresses. When I introduce a new character, aside from the usual ones in my series, I am open to my mind's suggestions. My muse and I create an outline for each character, including their age, appearance, behavior, and the role they play in the story. However, while I write, a suitable actor or actress might come to mind. From that moment on, I stick to that image and go with it. The bigger the character, the more chances I have to refine the scenes and adjust the character's behavior to my mental image. I still deliver on the character’s intentions, but it’s much more fun when I have a specific person in mind.

 

Here's an excerpt from Chosen Brothers (Book Four in the series with Jacklyn & Nick). I would like to read your proposals for who should play Joanne.

Have fun!

 

Excerpt

 

The door opened, and a lady of about forty years with a fashionable light brown bob entered the room. She smiled amiably as she took off her gloves and adjusted the purse on her left arm.

Mr. Steward’s face lit up with a genuine smile. “Hello, Joanne, nice to see you.”

“You, too, Herb.”

“You’re early today.”

“I guess so. The usual, please.” She pointed toward a table further down the room but came to the bar to stand beside Nicolas. “And his drinks are on me.”

Her smile was an invitation and a challenge—a tempting mix of class and sexiness. Nicolas had seen her from afar, but up close, she was a good-looking woman, neither overweight nor slender, with carefully applied lipstick and eyeliner. She scrutinized Nicolas’s face for a few moments with the interest of an adventurer looking for a new quest.

“Thanks, but…why?” Nicolas asked.

“Come with me, and I’ll explain.” She made a gesture toward her table. Mr. Steward was already on his way to deliver a cocktail with mint on top in a highball glass. Nicolas took his beer and set the glass down quickly enough to move the chair for her.

“Oh, I’m surprised. And impressed.” She sat down and put her gloves and the purse on the side of the table. “I hadn’t expected manners in such a boorish place.” She winked at Mr. Steward, whose forced smile didn’t reach his eyes. She added in a mock whisper, “No, he won’t be my friend tonight.”

Nicolas took the chair on the other side of the small table. “I’m Nick—”

“Murray, I know.” She lifted her glass. “Here’s to you being here with me and not in lockup.”

Nicolas raised his beer, surprised at the revelation. “I’ll drink to that—my savior, obviously.”

“Not really, but I’ll take the compliment anyway.” She licked her upper lip, and he could tell by her glance she was out for more than a quick drink at the bar.

“Would you mind explaining—”

“Of course not.” Her smile brightened the entire room. She put her elbows on the table and rested her chin on her folded hands as she studied him. “I watched you work, as you might’ve noticed, and then the next day, you were gone. I wondered what happened, and I asked around.” She shrugged elegantly. “It wasn’t hard to get the right answers.”

“You’re friends with the staff?”

Joanne waved her hand. “I’m friends with everybody. If you treat people like valuable human beings and not like dirt, they respect you. I needed about fifteen minutes to find out where you’d been taken.”

“You told old man Turner about me.”

Joanne chuckled. “Never call Jacob an old man. He would still father children if Mary was still alive. He considers himself at a fantastic age. Yes, he’s got arthritis, but his mind is sharp as ever.”

“My apologies, Mrs. Turner.”

“Joanne. Jo, for my friends.” She appeared to be enjoying the conversation as she sipped her drink and stared at him. “You might call me Jo.” When he didn’t reply, she set down the glass and cocked her head. “Tell me what happened. And be honest. I put some pieces together, but I’d like to hear the story from you.”

Nicolas frowned. “Why do you want to know anything about me?”

“The circumstances are self-explanatory.” She waved away his question. “Please, tell me what happened to you.”

“I was accused of stealing, but the accusation didn’t hold up. Jebediah didn’t believe me and locked me up in a stall in the old stable.”

Joanne frowned and pointed at his chafed wrists. “That’s a cheap and much too short story. I bet there’s more to it. You look like you caught some punches, and from what I’ve heard, you offered them quite a fight and almost won.”

Nicolas lowered his gaze and exhaled, both hands around the cold beer glass. The memory of the night in the cage haunted his mind like a weight on his shoulder that was gone but still tangible.

“You twisted Tyrone’s wrist. It’s not broken, but bandaged nevertheless. He won’t be using it for weeks.” Joanne shrugged. “He’s whining like an old man. Jeb took some hits, too, but doesn’t talk about it. He runs around bearing a grudge the size of Richmond, and quarrels with everyone.” She cocked an eyebrow. “I’d recommend you lie low for a while.”

“Mr. Turner said he’d talk with Jeb.”

“Oh, that’s good.” She nodded so vehemently that her golden earrings danced. “If the old man…pardon, the lively, vigorous patriarch takes charge, there’s no denial, no back talk, and no delay. Jebediah will follow his order. That means you’re safe.”

“Why does Jacob have such an influence? After all, he’s more than seventy years old, and couldn’t wrestle Jebediah to the ground.”

“No, but it looks like you tried that. Anyway,” she said with a wave of her hand. “He’s the one who leads this family, and he can get really pissed. Pardon my French. He had a disagreement with my husband, and instead of enduring Jacob’s permanent browbeating, Solomon opened a law firm in Richmond. He said it’s for the best to keep a distance. That tells you something about my father-in-law.” She sighed and tried to cover her sadness with her drink. “These days, my husband’s home for about three weeks a year. By the way, this is a Gin-Gin Mule. I learned to love it in New York.” Another, even deeper sigh. “Those were the days. If you want to try one, I can order it for you.”

“I’ll stick with beer.”

“But you aren’t drinking.”

“I’m listening.” Nicolas smiled encouragingly.

Joanne took the invitation like a lost girl in the street that’s cheered by a friendly stranger. “That’s flattering.” Joanne took another sip of her drink.

·         *

Later, Nicolas lay awake in his bed, staring at the ceiling, reflecting on the evening.

Joanne hadn’t made her intention a secret. When he crossed the threshold to her rooms, she had taken off her tailored jacket, lost her shoes on the way to the bar, and dropped her purse and gloves on a small table against the wall. She offered him another beer, and when he didn’t follow her into the apartment, she stood, frowning. Then slowly, understanding that he wasn’t about to spend the night with her crossed her face.

“You aren’t coming, huh?” she asked as she pushed back a strand of hair behind her ear. “Afraid of a married woman? Afraid that my husband will show up and try to throw you out?” On the way back toward the door, she made a dismissive gesture. “Don’t worry. After spending a day here, he’s already on his way home—back to his normal life in Richmond, back to what he calls his fulfillment in life.” She cocked her head. “I can’t convince you to stay?”

“No, ma’am.”

“Oh, it’s back to ma’am? What a pity. I like Jo much more.” She curled her lips to a smile. “A gentleman through and through, huh? Can’t say that I’m surprised. But I’m still disappointed. I did have expectations for the night.”

“You’re too valuable for a one-night-stand, Jo. You’re a wonderful woman and a good wife. You’re also a good daughter-in-law, faithful to the old man. I’m not—”

Joanne put a finger on his lips. “Don’t say you aren’t worth sleeping with me, Nick, because that’s BS. I made advances at you, not the other way around. I wanted you right here—or a little bit closer and with less clothes—and you knew that when you took the seat at my table.”

He smiled and cast down his eyes. The same moment, she stood on tiptoes to kiss him tenderly. Surprised, and yet flattered, Nick returned the kiss, then stepped back and wished her a good night.

* * *  *

 

Find my books at extasybooks.com and at various online bookstores. Paperbacks are available for many books on Amazon.

Visit my website: annraina.com

Follow me on Instagram: ann_raina_author

Back to...writing!

 

 

As I've said here before, the summer months are usually slow for writing. I take notes, but I rarely sit down at my computer to work on a novel. Now that the days are shorter and the weather is rainy and windy, I have more time and enjoy sitting at my desk with a cup of coffee and my cat on my lap. I read what I’ve written so far and find my way back to the scenery.

FBI Agent Nicolas Hayes is confronted with a female serial killer who charms her victims, promotes their careers, and demands their devotion. When they fail her, she leaves them dead and looks for another man to manipulate. She has successfully evaded the FBI’s investigation thus far by changing states, locations, looks, and behavior.

It’ll be fun to write about how the FBI team deals with the case, and maybe even solves it in the end (Yes, I wrote stories in which the killer is not found in the end,)

Writing crime novels was never my goal when I started writing. I was more into science fiction and adventure, but when my muse suggested a loving couple and asked me what his profession might be, we agreed that a career agent in the FBI would be a perfect choice.

Here’s an excerpt from one of my previous novels, Famous Murders (book 2 in the series).

 

A killer on the loose, an FBI-agent in love, and a famous actor in danger.

After three murders in the Washington, DC, vicinity, the FBI Agents Hayes and Beckham are assigned to solve the case. Although the murders seem incoherent at first, it becomes clear that there are connections between them. It turns out that the murderer is far from having reached the end of his deadly list.

Aside from the investigation, Agent Hayes has to find a way to get on with his demanding girlfriend and her challenging love games. Can he do both and not lose himself?

Excerpt

“What are these?” Nick asked when she picked up a pair of unique handcuffs.

“Hands front.”

“As you say.” He held up his hands to be bound.

“These are handcuffs designed for hanging. They don’t squeeze your wrists, but spread the pressure on the inner wrists and along your palms.”

“Great. Does all that stuff come with a manual?”

“Step on the stool and reach above you. There’s a protruding beam.”

He looked up. “Don’t say you got that prepared while I was in the shower!”

“It wasn’t that much work, and I found a ladder around here. Or do you think Richard would pull out stacks from down here to have the rest tumble on him?”

“From what you told me, I wouldn’t take him to be a man to bother with carrying firewood.”

“Point taken.” Jacklyn made a face. “Now, reach for the beam and put the chain above it.”

Nicolas stretched to get it done. He tested the beam to carry his weight, and it held.

“Now, step down from the stool.”

“You want me to hang here? Like some piece of meat?” Nicolas breathed deeply when she didn’t budge and slowly stepped off the stool to find his toes hardly touching the sandy ground. “I’ve had more comfortable positions, that’s all.”

“You look ravishing, my lover. All those muscles are showing, and I’m free to kiss every one of them.”

“Not that I wouldn’t allow it at any other position.”

“That’s not the same.” She put the stool aside to brush her lips along his bare chest. “And now, let me show you why this is a perfect position.”

“Yeah, that argument will need some convincing elements. I already feel as if I’ll have arms as long as my legs.”

Jacklyn laughed merrily, and Nick knew he’d done something right. It was one thing to trust your partner. It was another to find true common joy.

“You’re still standing on your feet.”

“Toes. Only on my toes. What’re you doing?”

“Hmm, I’m thinking about heightening your pleasure by blindfolding you. Oh, I see, that’s a no-go. I understand.” She dropped what was in her hand and fetched a bowl with steaming water, two towels, and a razor. “That look on your face is worth the whole drive up here.”

“If you wanted to shave me, we could’ve stayed in the bathroom, right?”

“Not for this.” Apparently, Jacklyn took unearthly delight in lathering his chest and armpits to shave him smooth. “You don’t know how wet I am,” she whispered, smiling seductively. “Imagine me already dripping with expectation. I’m so hot for you I could touch myself now and come. Would you wanna watch?”

The razor elegantly swung toward his midsection before she put it beside the bowl to towel-dry his upper body.

Nick swallowed drily. “You would…you’re gonna…strip? Here?”

She opened his jeans and slowly peeled them down to his knees. Without losing eye contact, she rubbed her chin along the bulge and drew his boxer shorts toward his knees. Gently, still smiling the smile of impending delight, Jacklyn closed her lips around his member. He panted and looking down at her he realized he’d allow her to do anything with him if she caused him such pleasure.

Nick thought all body heat would immediately jump to his testicles. His buttocks clenched, but the way he stood left him no room to push forward and into her mouth. She licked him, stroked him with her teeth and slowly coaxed him up. Then she withdrew.

“Wow, Jacky, that’s some…vicious treatment!”

“Says the man who brings me to climax every time I sleep with him.” Jacklyn stroked along his trembling legs before returning to his cock and balls. “I think this is only fair. You make me a quivering mess, and I’m helpless in your arms.” She kissed his chest tenderly.

“Before long, my arms will be as stretched as Reed Richards’ in the Fantastic Four!”

Chuckling like only a woman could, Jacklyn made sure his arousal grew, no matter the precarious position. Her hands and mouth were on him, gently first, then harder until he stood erect and expecting. Again, she withdrew.

“Oh, come on, Jacky! Don’t…what the hell are you doing?”

Jacklyn lathered his pubic hair, then swung the razor around his quivering cock, changing his appearance profoundly.

“But—”

“Nick, only old men and those who never want to have sex have a jungle down here. All other men on this planet prefer this area neat and…” She cocked her head for a smile and impish expression. “Much easier to access for the rest of the toys I brought.”

Nick rolled his eyes heavenward, knowing she would get her way if he didn’t strongly object. Obviously, he’d missed that moment and now suffered from not speaking his mind in time. However, the feeling was strangely pleasurable, and Jacklyn was the most careful barber he could imagine. From the few insinuations she’d made during their conversations, he expected her to have experience.

When he looked down after Jacklyn was done, he felt alienated from his body. Since the days of adolescence, there had been pubic hair around his genitals. As if she understood his feeling of loss, Jacklyn caressed the soft, vulnerable skin with her lips and tongue and made him forget his regret in ten seconds. He was still hard, and the more she caressed him, the more he wanted off the hook and to carry her back to the bedroom, living room, or any other room in the cabin, just to sink his member into her.

Jacklyn opened her short morning gown, and he looked at her perfect nakedness.

“Like the look?”

He couldn’t help returning her playful smile. “I like everything about you, ma chérie, and you damn well know it. So…will you let me off the hook now?”

“No dice.” She placed the small stool in front of him, stepped on it, and touched his body with hers. “Like that feeling?”

Nick had always been a bad liar and denying his arousal when her hard nipples pressed against his chest was impossible. She caught his penis between their bodies and moved up and down slowly, one hand around his scrotum.

“Tell me, do you have plans for today?”

Nick’s laugh came out a strangled whisper because his mind couldn’t handle the sexual temptation and exchange of words at the same time. He was beyond desire and wanted release badly, but Jacklyn made sure he had no leeway to rub his body against hers and reach what she denied.

“Tell me. Is there anything on your list? Reading a book, maybe, or running a mile?” The question was accompanied by another, not so gentle, tug on his balls.

“Oh, ouch! Other than wanting to fuck you blind? No.” His panting grew louder. “Jacky, this is…torment.”

“Yeah, but a cockish way of torment, right? So fitting, this barn. I’m getting down on you dark and dirty until you can’t think of anything than being horny.”

“Got that accomplished, J, no question.”

“Don’t think you’re the only one aroused, G-man. You’re heating me up.” Her voice sank to a whisper. “All I want is to rub you so long until you scream out my name when you come.”

“That’s not that far away,” he said between clenched teeth, causing her to giggle.

“Ah, you can live like that for some time, believe me.”

“Don’t say you’ll let me—” He stopped to listen. “There’s someone out there!”

He had hardly spoken when a portly man rounded the corner to stop with his thumbs in his uniform pockets, looking concerned. He had a feisty face with a mustache and small eyes drawn to slits under his wide-brimmed hat.

* * *

Find my books at extasybooks.com,

have a look at my website annraina.com

and follow me on Instagram ann_raina_author

Summer time!

 

 

 

I don't know how you feel about longer days and warmer temperatures - I'm one who can't stay indoors. The warmer it gets, the more I'm outside enjoying time with my horse (even more!) and working in my garden. Right now the plants seem to be bursting with life. The poppies are blooming and attracting big bees, the aquilegia is standing tall in pink and dark purple, and the lavender has sprouted so many leaves that I can't wait for the wonderful scent it will soon give off. The first strawberries are ripe, and the blackberries and raspberries will be next. The whole garden welcomes me every day with new things to discover.

Spending so much time outdoors makes me less interested in writing. Partly because I'm not at home, and partly because when I get home I'm too tired to write. I jot down notes for scenes and ideas and hope for a rainy day when I can fit them into the story.

It's a rhythm I follow every year. Most of my books were written in the fall and winter to be published the following year. I'm not so sure about next year, but we'll see.

So let's take a look at one of my earlier books, written in 2012, The Prophecy Reincarnated.

Description

Worshipped, seduced, hunted—will the Prophecy find some peace again?

Ted’s life after the crash landing on Leroya turns out to be a fast rollercoaster ride with men and women lusting after his body, a ruler out for war, and an empress with different goals of her own. Will Ted find a way out and escape…if he still wants to?

Excerpt

Ted thought about the Empresses’s special abilities while dropping his clothes to wash himself. He didn’t turn when he heard someone enter and was surprised by the touch of warm hands on his hips and butt. “I didn’t know you were that eager.”
“I didn’t know that you were already waiting for me.”
Startled, Ted swiveled around. Nephren faced him with a smut grin.
“You! What are you doing here?”
Nephren gave a graceful shrug. “Share the hut with you.”
Ted wanted to stay angry, to throw Nephren out, but the touch of Nephren’s hands on his bare skin was pleasant, no, exciting, and it stopped all words. He felt warm and comfortable, touched in places deep inside him he hadn’t known existed. His breathing and heartbeat accelerated while Nephren’s palms explored Ted’s chest and inched lower, never losing eye contact. The knots of the chastity device opened like touched by magic and the leather fell away. Ted took a step backward and another. Nephren followed and held Ted by his hips, bowing forward. His tongue moved in sensuous circles across Ted’s chest and nipples.
Ted’s mouth was dry, his eyes closed. He wanted to get away and his mind knew he should, but his body enjoyed the arousal too much to oblige. For a moment, he felt ripped apart, as if his conscience had decided to leave his body to the greedy hands of a would-be lover, unable to control the flesh. The tingling sensation increased until his hair stood on end. He put his hands on Nephren’s upper arms.
The sudden rush of power felt as if finely crushed ice poured over his lower body. Gasping, he jerked away, but Nephren followed, keeping the link by holding fast to his hips. Ted shuddered, unable to move, hardly able to breathe. His mind knew he had fallen into the hands of a great seducer and his body enjoyed it immensely.
Nephren smiled, glancing at Ted’s expecting cock.
“Let it flow, Ted,” he whispered. “Give yourself to me.”
“I’ve never felt anything like that before.” Even to him his voice sounded breathy and afraid. The longing in his loins rose to a new high. He craved to be touched.
Nephren’s smile was like a spark that would soon blossom to flame. “That’s what I wanted to tell you all the time.” His left hand massaged Ted’s cock and stopped his attempt to move away. “We are much more powerful than the Haldru. In so many ways. His reign will end. Nobody will stand against us. No one. The Haldru will dwindle and fall by the snap of our fingers.”
Ted frowned and bowed backward, fighting for control like a swimmer trying to climb out a slippery pool. “That doesn’t give you shit when it comes to reigning this country.”
“Oh, but it does. If you stay at my side, not his.”
Ted fought his body’s growing desire, but it felt like nailing fog to a wall. Breathing seemed hard work, taking a step even harder. In his mind, he already took Nephren down on the soft covers and loved him with his heart’s desire. It cost him a great effort to form words. “I’m not even interested in staying on this planet. Damn you, Nephren, why should I help you rebel against your ruler?”
The drowning emerald eyes gave their best to be persuasive. “Because he won’t let you go. I know that. But if you help me, I promise you that you’ll leave this planet as soon as my reign is established and strong enough to hold without you.”
“That’s a very uncertain measure of time.”
Nephren pressed his body against his, lowering his hands to caress Ted’s accessories with experienced movements. His arguments were very convincing and Ted struggled for a coherent thought. He wanted to close his eyes and give himself to the younger man, right now, without holding back. It would be so easy, so wonderful, so satisfying. It would be unlike anything else he had experienced and he longed for it with all parts of his body.
Nephren’s voice didn’t help. His words trickled into Ted’s mind, clouding it more and more. “You’re much better off with me than with the Haldru. I know he won’t let you go. I heard him tell his new confidant. He’s too afraid you might fall into the hands of his enemies. And that, my dear Ted, would be really bad.”
“You try to frighten me.”
“No, not frighten, Ted.” Nephren rubbed the other man’s cock with more vigor. “Just open your mind to other suggestions and you’ll explore whole new lands.”

***

Find all my books at annraina.com

The Bodyguard Series

 

 

I've been writing stories all my life. Ever since I discovered books I could read, I started writing my own stories, first by hand, then on a typewriter. I was the only one in my high school class to have an electric typewriter. I remember setting it up on a normal desk and the powerful and very fast swing of the platen always moved the desk an inch over the floor. I figured it out and bought a solid desk. Problem solved. I can't tell you how many pages of my stories were typed on that sturdy typewriter. I guess my neighbors went crazy because the walls were thin and the machine was definitely loud. Unfortunately for them, I was a night worker. I spent my days at school and outdoors, and when I got home I had enough energy to sit down and write another story. I started my writing career with Star Wars fan fiction before it was even a genre. I loved Han Solo and thought his role in the movies was way too small. Next came The X-Files and the brilliant duo of Mulder/Scully. There were so many new possibilities to explore!

I made the leap to a computer and the Internet and found that there were thousands of fanfiction writers, so many people to communicate with, so many like-minded writers who just wanted to share their vision. The fanfiction genre seemed to explode when The Lord of the Rings came out. Suddenly there was an unprecedented amount of published stories. I had my share of stories and was happy to receive thoughtful reviews.

The step to writing my own stories - contemporary as well as science fiction - was only natural. After several stand-alone books, I started the Bodyguard series. Well, it wasn't meant to be a series when my muse and I came up with the first plot. When the book was finished, and we were both happy with the result, we spent a nice afternoon discussing the next story. The brainstorming didn't take long, and we overcame the fear that readers would be bored by a story with the same handful of characters. Instead, it was well received.

So let me take you back in time. Here's an excerpt from The Secretary's Bodyguard.

 

Ethan Mahoney takes his wife on an official trip to Colombia to protect the Secretary of State. Things quickly go awry, and the secretary and his entourage find themselves on the run through the jungle, all kinds of dangers included.

 

Excerpt

 

From above, Ryan called, “I was right! Must be guava!”

“He shouldn’t just pluck the fruits.” Jazmin was already on her way before Ethan could ask why. “Wait, Ryan, wait!”

Ethan took a swig of water and began opening the knots of the makeshift hammock, keeping an eye on the secretary, who, in his opinion, looked worse than the evening before.

The next moment Ryan cried out, stumbled a step back and held his arm, eyes wide with shock. Ethan watched open-mouthed as Jazmin tackled his colleague, swept his foot and nailed him on his back.

“Stay down and don’t move!” she yelled in his face.

Ryan screamed in pain, rocking upwards and throwing Jazmin off his body. She landed on her back, cursing in Spanish.

“Someone help me up here!”

Ethan was already up the steep slope and knelt beside Ryan. “What do you want me to do?”

“Keep him down! It’s a snake bite!”

Walter was there to press Ryan’s right shoulder and they both had to summon up considerable strength to hold the bodyguard on the ground.

“Ryan, let go! I need to look at it!” Jazmin tried to pry Ryan’s finger open. “Ryan!” Ryan’s face was contorted with pain. Jazmin pulled his shirt out of the pants and stuffed a piece of it in his mouth. “Bite down and don’t scream. It can be heard for miles! Ethan, please, he must let go! Knock him out if you have to, but I can’t see anything like this!”

“Ryan, loosen the grip!” Walter shouted in the young man’s face. “Now!”

It was an effort, but Ryan let go, biting hard on the cloth in his mouth.

“Great. Snake in the morning.” Jazmin frowned as she examined the wound, then she turned to fetch the first aid kit.

“Calm down,” Walter ordered. “She obviously knows what she’s doing.” He looked at Ethan. “Does she?”

Ethan bit his lip. “She wouldn’t act if she had no clue, sir. She’s not showing off.”

“I hope so.” He watched the bite mark redden and swell up. “If it’s—”

“It hurts!” Ryan pressed around the cloth in his mouth. His face had reddened. “Goddamn it hurts!”

Jazmin brought a box and opened it, evading Ryan’s long legs scratching the ground. “Keep him down. The less he moves the better.” She took a small pad with alcohol and cleaned the wound to have a closer look.

Ethan half-knelt on his colleague and had broken into a sweat. “Is it bad?”

“What’s up?” Nolan asked from behind. “Did he get bitten by something?”

“Yes, sir.” Walter kept his voice under control. “Snake.”

*

Find my work at extasybooks.com; follow me on Instagram ann_raina_author; visit my website annraina.com

 

New Book by Ann Raina - Dirty Work

 

Even though this is the 12th book in the series, I'm still thrilled that my main characters are experiencing another breathtaking story, as my editors put it. Nicolas Hayes must catch a strange, very unusual killer, and Jacklyn faces an unknown group of hostile people who try to kidnap her more than once.

My muse came up with the story, and we sat down with coffee and cookies to work out the details and how the killer would evolve. I like the bad guys to be smart, ahead of the police who are chasing them. It's the challenge that makes writing worthwhile. I like the brainstorming best—when we think about the steps the killer takes, but also the investigation and what the FBI finds out to identify the person and go on the hunt.

It's also wonderful to write the storyline that involves the personal lives of Nicolas and Jacklyn, but also Nicolas's colleagues and friends. They have all grown on me... go figure. LOL

 

For more information about all my books in the series, please, visit my homepage www.annraina.org.

 

Excerpt from Dirty Work

(available at online bookstores, in print at amazon.com)

 

Nicolas left his hideout cautiously. There was no way of knowing how many burglars he was up against. The carpet under his bare feet was soft and warm, swallowing every sound. He had crossed the room when he became aware of a shadow at the next door, which led to the parlor, Mr. Hollander’s favorite abode. The aroma of expensive tobacco was in the air, mingling with that of leather and faintly of flowers. He noticed that there were sandy shoe traces from at least two persons on the otherwise spotless carpet. The moment he stepped beyond the threshold, a man attacked him from the right. Nicolas blocked the man’s arm, twisted it around and thrust the man face-first against the wall. The impact stunned him amid the screams of pain. He went down and lay unmoving. Nicolas let go of the man’s arm to face the second opponent, who aimed a pistol at him. Instinctively, Nicolas turned away, and the projectile passed him soundlessly. Before the shooter could pull the trigger again, Nicolas closed the gap, kicked the man in the shin, and twisted the gun out of his hand, turning his body into him. It had not yet reached the floor when the man boxed Nicolas in the kidney twice so forcefully it was both hurtful and stunning. Gasping for air, Nicolas rammed his elbow into the attacker’s midsection, gaining the advantage to turn and punch the man in the face, twice, three times, driving him backward. His side hurt, but for the moment he had his eyes on his opponent and ignored the pain. Nicolas kicked the man’s knee, triggering a groan, then kicked higher at the man’s chest. The opponent hit the wall behind him, and Nicolas was upon him, hitting him hard in the face once again. The man’s defense crumbled—he couldn’t keep up his fists. Nicolas heard a voice calling out in shock behind him. Quickly he swiveled the injured man around him so that he was a shield against yet another silent bullet. A third man had crossed the threshold into the parlor. Wide-eyed and obviously surprised by the situation, he turned tail and ran back through the living room toward the side entrance of the house.

“Fuck!” Nicolas dropped the now unconscious intruder and pursued the third gangster on bare feet. He heard glass shatter with a deafening noise, as if the living room’s mighty candelabra had hit the floor. It was the glass cabinet. The shards lay scattered across the floor, glistening in the afternoon sunlight, too broadly spread to jump over. Nicolas was lucky he came to a skittering halt before stepping into the glass. “I don’t believe this!” Nicolas put his hands on his hips, catching his breath. He heard the third man run down the hall and leave the building, shouting an order in a language Nicolas didn’t understand.

On the way back to the intruders, he tore off the power line of a floor lamp and used it to tie up the two men. Both were unresponsive, and he had his first good look at them. They were both of Asian origin, solidly built, with hair cut so short their scalps shone through, in their late twenties. The second man he had beaten had a shiny silver dart in his chest. Nicolas refrained from touching it. He searched their pockets but didn’t find a passport or a wallet. He also did not find backpacks or bags to transport stolen goods. “What were you guys up to?” he murmured as he left them behind to search the house. On the way, he grabbed a phone from the hook to call the police.

When he couldn’t find any other intruders, he fetched a pair of shoes from the bedroom, a few clothes for Jacklyn and himself, and went to open the closet. “Hey, lady, good to see you.”

Jacklyn embraced him, sighing with relief. She looked up to him with a frown. “You look... chipper.”

“What did you expect? Your badass FBI agent knows how to use his fists.”

* * *