Excerpt One from: FAKING IT
Copyright © 2009 PAM McKENNA
All rights reserved, Ellora's Cave Publishing, Inc.
Purchase e-book
“Think about it, Britt,” Garrett said behind her. “There are worse punishments than spending a few days at a swanky Hamptons beach house playing hide the knockwurst with a clean, disease-free, pompous trust-fund pig.”
“Two clean, disease-free pigs,” Jack said. “I want in on this.”
“No way, man,” Garrett said. “I’m not sharing.”
“If it wasn’t for me, you wouldn’t even know she tried to rip you off.” Jack was adamant. “It’s a three-way or I go to the cops myself.”
“A three-way?” Garrett asked. “You’re kidding, right?”
“Ménage à trois,” Jack said. “Don’t knock it till you’ve tried it.”
Britt turned to face them, her hand still on the doorknob. This conversation was starting to get interesting. The two men faced off like snorting bulls, ignoring her.
“We do her one at a time,” Garrett said, “and I get her first. When the hell did you do a three-way?” He raised two fingers. “Follow-up question—two girls or two guys?”
Jack raised one finger. “College. Duh.” Another finger. “Two girls. It was awesome.”
“Well, I’m not doing a two-guy three-way,” Garrett said. “No way.”
Britt spoke up. “Afraid it’ll turn you on?”
“The hell kinda question is that?” Garrett said. “I’m a hundred percent straight.”
“Because you didn’t seem like a guy who’s insecure about his sexuality,” she said. “You know, when we met at the club.”
“Do not try to play me with that ‘insecure’ crap,” Garrett said. “And speaking of last Saturday, you wanted to do me as badly as I wanted to do you, before we got on to that.” He tossed his hand toward the faux Ingres. “You going to deny it?”
“No.” Britt released the doorknob. She propped her fists on her hips and regarded the two superlative specimens of manhood who were standing there arguing about who would get to fuck her and in what order. She tried to remember why she was supposed to feel outraged.
“All right,” Britt said. “I’ll stay here with you guys for three days.”
Jack shot his fist.
Garrett said, “Ten days.”
Britt quirked an eyebrow. “Let’s split the difference. One week.”
“Done,” Jack said, and sent his friend a silent command, easily deciphered as Don’t push it, we’re getting a week.
“And if it turns out you’re into some sick shit,” she said, “I walk, prison be damned.”
“No barnyard animals or sharp instruments.” Garrett raised a palm. “Scout’s honor.”
Britt assured them she was on the Pill and, like them, disease-free.
“This is so cool.” Jack stripped off his T-shirt and spun her around, inspecting the back of her form-fitting jersey dress. “No zipper on this thing?”
“Ah, romance,” she said. “Don’t I at least get to go home and pack a few things for my stay?”
“Later.” Jack stepped out of his flip-flops and dropped his jeans. He’d gone commando—no undershorts to block Britt’s view of a proud billy-club hard-on. She pulled the stretchy dress over her head and tossed it onto a chair, leaving her in matching peach-colored lace thong and demi bra. Not to mention the four-inch, pony-patterned stiletto sandals.
“Guys.” Garrett glanced at the open windows. “A little discretion?”
“Jesus, woman.” Jack circled her, staring unashamedly. “You are fucking gorgeous.”
Britt smiled her thanks. Nothing she didn’t already know, but it was always nice to hear it.
“Let’s take it to a bedroom,” Garrett said. “And, Jack, I told you—I go first.”
“No, I’m liking the sound of that three-way thing,” Britt said while Jack pressed close from behind, caressing her bare midriff as his erection nudged her bottom. “I’ve never done that,” she added. “It sounds fun.”
“You’re not calling the shots here,” Garrett told her. “In case you forgot.”
“Lighten up, G.” Jack’s big hands cupped her full breasts, his thumbs teasing the nipples to points under the lace. “And no one’s peeking in the windows. We’re isolated here. Private beach, remember?”
“Yeah, but people still wander through.”
“Don’t be a grump.” Britt gave Garrett her most seductive smile as she stroked a hand down her well-rounded hip. “There’s enough here for both of you.”
“Now, this is a woman!” Jack squeezed her generous butt. “You better hurry, G, or I’ll eat her up all by myself.”
“I like the sound of that.” Britt reached behind her to stroke Jack’s hot, satiny cock.
Garrett wanted to hold out, she could tell, to prove he was the one in charge. To call the shots, as he’d put it. But judging by the tent pole straining the fly of his khakis, she knew it was a losing battle. She was right.
“Aw, fuck it.” Garrett kicked his deck shoes clear across the room and tore at his clothing as he stalked to her. His moss-green eyes flashed with mingled ire and arousal.
Oh yes, Britt thought, as he hauled her away from Jack and ground his mouth against hers, holding her tight to his warm, bare flesh. If anything, her imagination had not done him justice. He was broad-shouldered and athletically built. A light furring of tawny chest hair arrowed southward over his sun-kissed six-pack, pointing the way to an erection of impressive proportions. As if a cock like that needed a road map.
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Excerpt Two from: FAKING IT
Copyright © 2009 PAM McKENNAAll rights reserved, Ellora's Cave Publishing, Inc.Purchase e-book
“I don’t believe this is all you took from my room.” Garrett’s voice was low, almost menacing.
“Oh, will you give it a rest?” She rolled her eyes and tugged on the handcuffs. “And let me have my hand back?”
“I think you made off with something else of mine.” His green-ice gaze traveled down her body, with glacial slowness, and up again. “And I intend to find it.”
Was this guy serious?
Britt started to ask him just that, but something in his expression made her ponder the answer for real. She studied him carefully—the secret half smile, the impish light in his eyes—and bit back a surprised grin.
Hallelujah. Never again would she accuse Garrett of being sexually unimaginative.
“I told you, asshole,” she said, getting into character, “I didn’t take your stupid gun.”
“Right. Guns scare you.” With his free hand he gathered her hair in his fist and pulled, forcing her to look him in the eye. “What about me? I don’t scare you?”
“You’re nothing but hot air.” She tried in vain to wrench free of him—or pretended to. The more he restrained her, the more turned on she got. “Go ahead. Search my tote bag. You won’t find anything.”
Garrett turned to Jack. “Dump the bag.”
Never slow on the uptake where sex games were concerned, Jack didn’t miss a beat now. He upended the straw bag. They watched her towel, water bottle, sunscreen and paperback romance novel fall to the sand.
“There,” she said. “Satisfied?”
Garrett’s response was a smile so deliciously wicked she felt it in her core. “Not yet. Tell me, Britt—where’s the key to the handcuffs?”
“The…?” Oops. He probably kept the key in the same drawer, but it hadn’t occurred to her to look for it. “I don’t have it.”
“Bullshit. You’re hiding it.” He gave her the once-over again. “Somewhere on your person.”
Britt glanced down at her clingy bikini. “You wouldn’t dare.”
Jack grabbed her arms from behind, handcuffs jangling, as Garrett released her. “This’ll go easier for you if you cooperate.”
“A simple pat-down,” Garrett said, “then we’ll let you go.”
God, I hope not, she thought. He reached for her and she lashed out with her feet, forcing him to hop back or take one to the nuts.
“So that’s the way it’s going to be, huh?” He cocked his head toward the lifeguard stand, and Jack propelled her toward it.
“No!” she yelled, grateful for Jack’s immense strength. She could fight him like a demon with no risk of actually breaking free. “You bastards! Let me go!”
The sides of the lifeguard stand were straight A-shapes, the back was a sloping X, and the front was open. Jack forced her against one of the A’s, facing out. He pulled her arms up, drew the other end of the handcuffs behind the top of the A where the wooden struts crossed just below the lifeguard’s bench, and shackled her other wrist. Her arms were now immobilized over her head, rendering her spectacular cleavage even more spectacular.
Britt screamed and cursed. She kicked out at Garrett and Jack, who stripped off his T-shirt, grabbed her right leg, and used the shirt to tie her ankle to one leg of the A. Garrett whipped off her pareo and secured her other ankle. Then they stood back and admired the spectacle of Britt bound hand and foot to the old lifeguard stand, legs spread wide.
Her heart drummed as she fought her restraints. Her pussy throbbed with a pulsing heat. Being at the mercy of these two off-the-charts-sexy men excited her beyond measure. “You pricks—you can’t do this to me.”
Garrett approached her. “I figure that key must be on her somewhere, don’t you, Jack?”
“Damn straight.” Jack walked through the front of the lifeguard stand to take up position behind her. “Girl doesn’t fight like that unless she’s got something to hide.”
“Don’t worry.” Garrett planted his palms on the stand. He leaned in close to her and murmured, “We’ll find it.”
Britt gave a surprised squeak as Jack’s hands slid from the back of her halter top to the front. He took his time, patiently feeling her breasts through the stretchy fabric. His warm breath tickled her ear as he said, “She likes being frisked, G.”
“No.” She shook her head.
Jack chuckled. “You can lie to me, babe, but these can’t.” He plucked her stiff nipples. She gasped.
“Where’s the key, Britt?” Garrett asked. “If you give it up now, we won’t have to strip-search you.”
“You don’t want that, do you?” Jack purred near her ear. He rolled her aching nipples between his fingers, grinding his erection against her bottom. Her eyes drifted shut as she savored the sensations. “Can you imagine how humiliating that would be—stripped naked and tied to this thing for as long as we decide to leave you here?”
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