Title: Stone, At Your Service
Series: Carolina Bad Boys #1
Author: Rie Warren
Publisher: Rie Warren
Published titles: Four full length novels within the past twelve months including the Don’t Tell series published by Grand Central-Forever Yours.
Genre: Contemporary Erotic Romance
Page count: 290
Keywords: alpha male, mechanic, southern, humor
Date of release: September 25, 2014
List Price: $2.99
Goodreads link: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/22336924-stone-at-your-service
Hell on wheels meets hell in high heels.
Bad boy mechanic Josh Stone likes to get his hands dirty any way he can—the filthier, the better. Ever since his wife walked out on him and their young son, he’s only had room in his heart for two loves: the kid and cars.
Roped into playing his best buddy’s gay boyfriend during a romance writers convention, the player meets the girl who’s gonna rock his world. Leelee Songchild. Shy, bashful, beautiful Leelee who blushes at the drop of a hat yet writes hardcore smut to rival Josh’s backlist of Penthouse Forum.
The only problem is his hands are tied. Josh can’t stab his old friend/fake lover in the back even though all he wants to do is take luscious Leelee to bed, and maybe, love her. When the truth comes out, all hell breaks loose.
Too bad romance is just for books.
Click clack went the heels, swish sway went her hips. I salivated behind her all the way to the elevators.
Friends, yeah, this is gonna be good.
There was a coy curve to her lips when she faced me. “Fancy meetin’ you here.”
An empty car arrived, and I bowed low. “After you, Madame.”
Leelee entered, pressing the button to my floor and hers. “I’ll just run to my room and sign the book up there. Doin’ that stuff in front of others makes me clam up. What’s your mom’s name?”
I was too busy staring at the new, life-sized decorations in the elevator to respond.
“What the hell is this?” I gestured to the floor-to-ceiling posters of various book covers plastered all around the car. We were surrounded by half-clothed men and women in various stages of hot and heavy action.
Leelee sucked in her lip and let it pop loose. Not helping. “They only put them up once the Con gets rolling. Second wave marketing.”
“Any of these guys your type?” She asked.
“Heeeelll, no.” She frowned and I hurried on. “Ya know, none of them are Nicky, so . . .”
“Mm hmm. I’ll let you off the hook. Tell me your mom’s name so I can get it right.”
After I rattled off the details Leelee smiled. “You, me, and the elevator again, Stone?”
I zeroed in on a hairy-chested, ruffle-shirted pirate who had a big-breasted bombshell fainting over his arm, presumably from his virile manliness. “And Captain Jack Sparrow does high seas porn?”
Her light laughter spun through me until I thought I’d swoon too, from lack of blood to my brain as it sped up the root of my cock. In an enclosed space with flirtatious Leelee, my friend, was not a good place to be right now.
So I asked the first thing that came to mind, of course. “You get into swashbucklin’ sex?”
Her voice lowered to that luscious honey tone and her gaze raked up my body. “If the sword fits.”
Holy fuck. Heart attack, death by cock contusion, an aneurism from arousal . . . some motherfucking thing—named Leelee Songchild—was gonna do me in this trip.
I already knew she could write sex on page. I was well aware she could move like a sex goddess and kiss as if her lips had been designed for sin. Add in her sweet personality, sharp wit, quick temper? She was one hot ticket.
I rasped, “A tight sheath is all that’s needed, darlin’.”
Her gasp was overridden by the ding of the elevator announcing my floor. Okay. Yep. And I was done. I put my hand in my pocket as I turned and strode out, this time to cover the ridiculously large bulge in my pants. Rounding the corner, I hit the hall at a run, skidding to a stop at my door. Let me in, let me in. The goddamn light hit red, red—motherfucker!—green. Yes!
I tripped over my feet, glared at my shoes. Fuck it. They could stay on, it wasn’t a first. Hitting the chair, I practically chewed through my belt, unzipped lickety-split and ripped those bastards open. Shirt buttons torn aside, I glanced at the desk. Tissues, golden. Two hard tugs at my nipples and my hand brushed down my belly, onto the thick cock rearing straight up in the air.
Leelee was due back soonish, but I was so keyed up, I couldn’t wait. And it sure as hell wouldn’t take long since I’d been holding back a massive blowout for forty-eight hours plus. The moment my hand curled around my cock, my back arched and a loud groan rumbled from my chest. Then it was all about the pump action. I worked my shaft like a piston, all chambers firing. A twist at the plum-colored head on every upswing and I growled. Come boiled in my nuts, prominent veins caught on my fingers. Air barely scraped into my lungs as my brain backfired.
Then it wasn’t my hand jackin’ me off, it was Leelee’s. I could see her, on her knees, free from her dress. Ample tits swinging, hips undulating back and forth, wanting my big cock to fill up her pussy. “Oh, God, yessss.”
I spat into my palm, added it to the precome oil, and everything went smooth as silk, hard as stone. Gripping my shaft, I planted my feet and raised my hips in and out of the loose hold of my fist. Oh yeah, so much better.
One hand on the back of the chair, I drew a deep breath that punched out my nose. I lifted my eyes. “Leelee!” I choked.
Oh Jesus. Oh yeah.
She was there, just inside the room. A book in her hands and a rapt look in her eyes.
Rie is the badass, sassafras author of Sugar Daddy and the Don’t Tell series–a breakthrough trilogy that crosses traditional publishing boundaries beginning with In His Command. Her latest endeavor, the Carolina Bad Boys series, is fun, hot, and southern-sexy.
A Yankee transplant who has traveled the world, Rie started out a writer—causing her college professor to blush over her erotic poetry without one ounce of shame. Not much has changed. She swapped pen for paintbrushes and followed her other love during her twenties. From art school to marriage to children and many a wild and wonderful journey in between, Rie has come home to her calling. Her work has been called edgy, daring, and some of the sexiest smut around.
You can connect with Rie via the social media hangouts listed on her website https://www.riewarren.com. She is represented by Saritza Hernandez, Corvisiero Literary Agency. http://www.corvisieroagency.com/Saritza_Hernandez.html
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