KING.
IS. COMING!
Meet
King on June 15th!
Blurb
Homeless,
hungry and desperate enough to steal, Doe has no memories of who she
is or where she comes from.
A
notorious career criminal just released from prison, King is someone
you don’t want to cross unless you’re prepared to pay him back in
blood, sweat, pu$$y or a combination of all three.
King’s
future hangs in the balance. Doe’s is written in her past. When
they come crashing together, they will have to learn that sometimes
in order to hold on, you have to first let go.
Warning:
This book contains graphic violence, consensual and nonconsensual
sex, drug use, abuse, and other taboo subjects and adult subject
matter. Although originally slated to be a standalone, KING is now a
two part series.
Excerpt
King
Tattooing
Doe was the single most erotic moment of my life. Marking her
perfect, pale skin with a tattoo I'd designed for her made me so
fucking hard I had to adjust myself every thirty seconds in order to
concentrate on my work.
When
I was done, I handed her the hand mirror, and she walked over to the
full-sized mirror that hung on the back of the door, like she'd seen
dozens of my other clients do before. When she held up the hand
mirror, she gasped.
"What?"
I asked in a panic, hoping she didn't already see what I'd hidden in
the tattoo. I was an asshole for putting it there. I was an asshole
for tattooing her in the first place.
I
was just an asshole.
But
I couldn't help myself. My name needed to be on her. It wasn’t
enough just to call her mine. I needed to mark her as well. So hidden
in the vine work under the quote I found that I thought was perfect
for her, was my name.
KING
was woven into the design. In order to see it you had to tilt your
head or otherwise you wouldn't notice it. But it was there.
I
would tell her eventually of course, but I wanted it to be my secret
for a while. She'd stopped being my possession a while ago, a lot
longer before I cared to admit, but I still felt the need to mark her
as mine.
I
still liked the idea of owning her.
Only
now, she owned me, too.
She
didn't notice the name. Tears filled her eyes. She stood there
staring at the hand mirror in just her panties. Little cheeky ones
where her ass hung out of the bottoms. Her tits were only inches from
my face. Her tears of happiness made my dick twitch. Although her sad
tears evoked the same response.
My
dick wasn't partial to which kind of tears he liked.
I
took the mirror from her hand and lifted her up onto the counter.
"You like it?" I asked, pushing her panties down her legs.
"I
love it," she panted, wrapping her legs around me, drawing me
close. Her wetness soaking my boxers. I pushed them down with one
hand. I'd been hard for three hours, the entire time I’d been
working on her, and couldn't wait any longer. I pushed inside her
tight, wet heat.
We
both moaned at the contact.
"You
love it?" I asked, needing to hear her say it again.
"Yes,
I love it!" she said as I thrust up into her, hard. "I love
it. So much. I love you."
I
froze when I heard the words, and when I did, her eyes flung open.
"I
didn't mean—"
"Shut
the fuck up."
"Oh
my god, I have that word vomit thing. I’m sorry. Shit, I just
meant that—"
"Shut
the fuck up!" I demanded, thrusting hard to get her attention.
She closed her eyes, and her head fell back. "That's fucking
better. Now, keep that pretty mouth of yours shut while I fuck you."
"Okay,"
she whispered, breathless.
"Shut
up," I said again, and she closed her mouth. "Shut up so I
can fuck you…and show you how much I love you."
She
nodded and although her eyes stayed shut, a tear rolled down her
cheek. I sucked it off her chin before it could fall to the floor.
Then,
I fucked her.
Hard.
I
showed her how much I loved her until I couldn't tell where I started
and she began. Until all that was in that room was me and her and the
thing between us that kept pulling us together like magnets. Until we
were lost in sensations and orgasms.
And
in each other.
I
fucked her until we were one person, and in a way we were, because
I'd lost myself along the way and I found myself again in the most
unlikely place.
I'd
found myself again in the haunted eyes of a girl who was just as lost
as I was.
Or
maybe, we didn't find each other at all.
Maybe,
we just decided to be lost together.
About
the Author:
T.M. (Tracey Marie)
Frazier resides in sunny Southwest Florida with her husband and three
feisty fur kids.
She attended Florida
Gulf Coast University where she specialized in public speaking. After
years working in real estate and new home construction, she decided
it was finally time to stop pushing her dreams to the back burner and
pursue writing seriously.
In the third grade
she wrote her very first story about a lost hamster. It earned rave
reviews from both her teacher and her parents.
It only took her
twenty years to start the next one.
It will not be about
hamsters.
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