Date Night (5 page)

Her moan increased a decibel or ten when he dug his thumb into the arch of her foot. She hadn’t known those nerves connected straight to her clit. Each time he exerted pressure on one spot, that part of her jumped like it had a tic.

Anso laughed at her reaction. “You’re making this too easy.”

“That’s not ... really a complaint, is it?”

She might have been easy, but he wasn’t rushing her. His smile didn’t

disappear, just grew more subtle and salacious. Both her legs were kneaded and stroked, then her arms, and then he did unbelievably soothing things to the back and sides of her neck. For this he had to straddle her waist, his erection a lovely cudgel pointing up in front of him. He was breathing slowly, deeply, and - despite wallowing in her own luxurious sensations - she simply couldn’t resist touching his penis.

The flame blue glow in his eyes brightened. “You think you’re allowed to do that?”

“Oh yes.” She cruised up his rigid heat with both hands. “I think this is exactly why you moved into reach.”

His smile tipped feyly, so perhaps it was. “Would you like some oil for your palms?”

“I would,” she answered with equal - and equally breathless - politeness.

“That cream really smells yummy.”

He offered her the jar, then scooped up more for himself.

When he laid both hands on her breasts she nearly forgot to put hers on him.

The way he caressed her couldn’t help but be sexual, and yet its purpose seemed to be to relax her. He circled her breasts, firmly, smoothly, as if they were another muscle that needed loosening. Around and around he went, until her cells were humming, every inch of her turned into an erogenous zone. Her spine arched off the bed with pleasure as he dragged his grip down the sides of her ribcage.

From there he moved inward and pushed up, across her nipples and then over her shoulders. Again he repeated the dreamy circuit, and again she went limp and taut by turns.

She could only hold his erection; she was too overwhelmed by bliss to fondle him. In truth, she might have gripped him too tightly a couple times.

“An-so,” she whimpered when he bent, just once, to suck her nipples.

“You can wait,” he said, his eyes gone slumberous and beautiful. “After all, you were going to make me.”

“I need you.”

He had a mild aphrodisiac in his saliva, and the next time he stroked across her nipples, they were more sensitive. He kept his hands there, buffing them up and down. “I need you too.”

“May I kiss your cock?” she asked.

Her thumbs crooked over his crest, where she’d forgotten to move them. She moved them now, back and forth, pushing the thick seep of his excitement across the satiny skin and the little hole. His thigh muscles corded like steel cables, his eyes closing with enjoyment. Both sides of his nature were struggling for control.

“Please let me suck you,” she said, knowing he had trouble resisting her requests.

His eyelids dragged halfway up. “That’s what you want? To give me pleasure as well?”

“Always,” she breathed.

He cupped his hand behind her neck, carefully helping her rise to him. His hard-on was so upright she had to tug the head to her lips.

A hint of vanilla flavored his musky taste.

He held her there, not lying down, not sitting up, his strength so unwavering even as she fellated him that her own weight was no strain to herself. Her only challenge was to trust he’d support her. He did, of course. Anso never let down anyone he loved.

Knowing what he wanted, she stayed gentle, not trying to bring him off, but to show him how much she loved every part of him. She took his hot silky cock as deep as she could, her tongue stroking care into him, her hands playing over his groin and testicles. It didn’t take much of this to pull him to his limit - no surprise, since he seemed to feel their periods of abstinence the most. He moaned for her and rocked to her, until the tension in his thighs and stomach signaled he couldn’t take any more.

“Liv,” he gasped, dragging away from her.

She wriggled higher on the bed, drew her legs up and out so that they framed his, and nudged his thigh with one knee. His shaft had the upward curve it got when he reached maximum arousal.

“Better find a home for that quick,” she said.

Her manner was pure Mae West, but he wasn’t amused right then. His own

eyes burning, he dropped forward onto braced arms.

His hips filled the space she’d made for them.

“You,” he said, “are the best part of me.”

Before she had a chance to tear up, he gave her the storm in him. His thrusts were hard and sure, and she welcomed every one.

He went at her like he wasn’t ever going to stop.

“God,” he gasped, suddenly lifting and slanting both their bodies another way.

She saw why when he reached above her to grab one bedpost, which evidently was anchored well. His strokes increased in power and speed, the upcurve of his shaft ensuring his cap strafed the G-spot cushion on her front wall. Being pummeled there was an agonizing kind of heaven.

Olivia made a sound that wasn’t a word at all.

“God,” Anso swore again. “I can’t stop. Watching the others take you makes me crazy.”

He didn’t seem to be suggesting it made him a
bad
crazy. Her head beginning to thrash, she bent one leg up and held it to give him the access and angle they both liked best. Her other arm clutched his back, the muscles of which were bunching and slicked with sweat. His prick thickened inside her.

“Yes,” she groaned, the extra stretch doing something good-crazy to her

nerves. “
Anso
.”

He went faster but not harder. His left hand was locked around her bottom, and he had no intention of moving it. He used his upper body to press the bend of her upraised leg tighter.

The little shift was magic. The sharpest possible sexual sensations jabbed up her clit, almost too pleasurable to process.

Apparently, Anso was having a similar experience.

“Fuck,” he gasped, his hips churning helplessly into hyperspeed.

“Fuckfuckfuck.”

He came with a sandpapered groan. Olivia thought she’d been coming

already, but as his seed burst hot inside her, her ecstasy leaped so high she should have had vertigo.

He let go of the post to hold only her.

“Unh,” he grunted, jamming himself repeatedly to her end. “Unh. Unh.”

Because he was a were
and
a king, for whom every aspect of sex was heightened, his ejaculations went on for a very wonderful while.

“Mmm,” Olivia hummed, savoring the last pleasure-spreading percussions.

He released her up-bent leg, both of them stretching as muscles tightened by climaxes relaxed. Warmed all over with satisfaction and happiness, Olivia stroked her hands up and down his heaving back. She noticed his cock was still hard in her. Hips flexing to enjoy that, Anso rubbed his face in her outspread hair.

“That was good,” he said throatily.

A new weight settled on the rumpled covers to their left, followed by another one on their right.

“I give that performance a 9.5,” Ty said.

“Not a ten?” James quipped.

“A good judge always leaves room for improvement.”

Olivia smiled without opening her eyes. “You two hug it out?”

“For now.” Ty sounded slyly pleased with himself. Olivia concluded Anso’s
or something
had played a part in their discussion. “Are you two majesties going to lie here forever? James and I are hungry for dinner, and Anso looks as if he needs more fuel before he starts a second round.”

“Mmph,” said the king, pretending to be insulted. He turned his face toward her cheek so only she felt his hidden grin. Every bit of this pleased her. The balance between the four of them might not be perfect, but she was willing to bet it would always be rewarding.

“Come on,” James coaxed, playfully tugging their entwined hair. “You know how seldom we get to eat together just the four of us.”

Anso grumbled some more for form’s sake, but sat back from her soon

enough.

“Oh he did you
good
,” Ty drawled when he got a look at her well fucked state.

Smiling, Olivia teased the tip of her tongue across her upper lip. “I did him good too, Ty.”

Her vixenish manner lifted Ty’s fair eyebrows, but James evinced no surprise.

His laugh was as warm as it was easy. “You’re liking date night, I see.”

“I am,” she confirmed. “And I’m liking even more that it isn’t over yet ...”

# # #

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

EMMA
Holly is the award-winning,
USA Today
bestselling author of more than twenty romantic novels, featuring vampires, demons, fairies and just plain extraordinary ordinary folks. She loves the hot stuff, both to read and to write!

If you’d like to find out what else she’s written, please visit her website at:

http://www.emmaholly.com. S
he runs monthly contests and sends out newsletters that often include coupons for new books. To receive them, go to her contest page.

If you like threesomes, her Victorianish demon novel,
The Assassins’ Lover
, is also available. If sexy shapechangers are your thing, you might try
Hidden
Talents
, which features a werewolf cop and is set in the same general story world as “Date Night” and
Hidden Depths
. An excerpt from
Hidden Depths
follows.

Thanks so much for reading this book!

an excerpt from HIDDEN DEPTHS

JAMES
and Olivia Forster have been happily married for many years. Their grown-up daughter is thriving, as is their successful family-owned business. A harmless kink here or there spices up their love life, but they can’t imagine the kinks they’ll encounter while sneaking off to their beach house for a long hot weekend. Certainly, they don’t expect their understanding of the world they live in to be turned upside down.

Anso Vitul has ruled the wereseals for one short month. He hardly needs his authority questioned because he’s going crazy from mating heat, a condition made more tormenting by having been forbidden to have sex with a female. Anso’s best friend and male lover Ty volunteers to help him find the human mate his royal genes are seeking. To Ty’s amazement, Anso’s quest leads him claim not one partner but a pair. Ty would object, except he too finds the Forsters hopelessly attractive.

When this hot-blooded foursome embark on their erotic voyage, more than the ocean is going to make waves.

available in ebook and print

CHAPTER one

AN
isolated beach on a clear spring day was a wonderful place to think. As Olivia Forster lazed on a towel in her red bikini, the thought she worked on was this: She and her husband James were different from their married friends.

Olivia couldn’t say why exactly. They all had similar high-powered jobs and comfortable houses on Long Island. They’d all been married around two decades and were within a stone’s throw of forty from either side. In Olivia’s opinion, all of them were attractive, though some of the women obsessed about their weight.

They weren’t necessarily intellectuals, but neither were they idiots. Their marriages had reached the vintage where they knew relationships needed work.

More importantly, none were so lazy or uncaring that they wouldn’t put in that work. All of them had at least one child who’d reached adulthood more or less in one piece.

Despite these similarities, Olivia had observed that although she and James were happy, their friends were - to greater or lesser degrees - habitually dissatisfied with their lives.

Her inner perplexity must have showed in her expression. James, her darling husband of mumble-mumble years, rolled toward her on their shared beach towel.

He was tall and dark and just as handsome to her as he’d been when he was twenty. Every day, they worked together at the multimedia firm they’d founded twelve years ago, which could have been awful but turned out to be the best job either of them ever had. Olivia still loved seeing James in his suit and tie, though -

as head of accounting - she rarely wore anything fancier to work than a blouse and jeans. He teased her about that, but never angrily. He seemed to like that she couldn’t be swayed from her favorite things.

Since he was one of those favorite things, she supposed that made sense.

“Hey,” he said now, tapping her furrowed brow. Hardly minding the

interruption, she turned her head toward him. As she did, he gave her the killer grin that had seduced her the day they met. It was boyish and crinkly and genuinely affectionate. Every time she saw it, her heart warmed impossibly.

She was so lucky he’d fallen in love with her.

“I know we’re playing hooky,” he said, “but now you’re playing hooky from me.”

She wriggled around until she lay on her side as well. Her wavy red locks fell forward, reminding her she could use a trim. Despite their unkempt state, she didn’t sweep them back. Like a background that was meant to lull them into intimacy, the Atlantic waves broke foamingly on the shore. Olivia felt as if she were dreaming when she spoke.

“I was wondering why I look at you and feel happy, when Sherri looks at

Mark and sees everything she wishes he’d fix about himself.”

“That’s easy. Clearly, I’m perfect.”

“You are not,” she said, shoving his admirably buff chest. “No more than I am.”

“You’re perfect to me.”

“What about my shyness? Or the way I need to organize everything?”

James shrugged one muscular shoulder. “Neither of those things are worth getting upset about.”

“Why aren’t they, though? Why does Dan go ballistic when Kim buys a pair of shoes he thinks she’ll never wear, and you and I let stuff like that roll off us?”

James’s dark brows puckered above his hazel eyes. “Are you suggesting we ought to fight about those things?”

“No. I’m just wondering why we’re different.”

“I believe I told you why we’re different the day I proposed. You and I are soulmates. We’ve been married in lots of lives before.”