I'd like to welcome W. Lynn Chantale, author of Lust and Bound to my blog as part of her blog tour with SizzlingPR ~
About the author
W. Lynn Chantale resides in southeastern Michigan. Writing has been a passion for as long as she can remembered. Given an ultimatum of either getting published or giving up writing. W. Lynn chose to get published and has never looked back.
Married to her high school sweetheart and romantic heartthrob, they’ve been together for the last twenty years. She has a mad affinity for milk chocolate, preferably Dove chocolate truffles or the caramel-filled squares (Godiva is acceptable), and plays the bass guitar when the Muse begs for a bit of distraction.
She’s a multi-published author as well as a member of Romance Writers of America as well Greater Detroit Romance Writers of America, Passionate Ink and Kiss of Death groups.
Links for author:
Website / Facebook / Twitter
“I don’t share.”
A thrill rippled through her body at the possessive note in his deep, rasping voice.
“You can still walk away.”
Walk away? Was he nuts? She’d waited months for this moment, for freedom. Still, as his eyes raked over her body, waiting for her decision, a tiny seed of doubt wiggled in the back of her mind. She squared her shoulders. Nope. She wasn’t going home until she knew what made her eyes roll to the back of her head and she wanted him to show her.
He shouldered open the door and dragged her to him. The cool kiss of the textured wall greeted her bare shoulders as his mouth, hot and demanding, found hers. She sighed against his lips, jerking his shirt free from his waistband. He cupped her breast, his thumb stroking her nipple. Fire danced through her veins, pooled low. Her heart skipped a beat when he yanked the chiffon from her shoulders, ripping the sheer fabric.
Lifting his head, he flashed a quick smile, his mist-gray eyes shining with heat and mischief. “I hope you weren’t too attached to this dress.”
She didn’t care how he got her clothes off, just as long as he got them off. Her pulse raced and her breath quickened when the thin silk of her slip followed the fate of her dress. Trisha slid her hands beneath his shirt, his skin warm and smooth beneath her palms.
“Now what am I supposed to wear home?”
Zach grabbed her wrists, shackling them in one large hand and raising her arms above her head. She gasped as her breasts thrust upwards, straining for attention. “We’ll worry about that later.” He dipped his head, capturing one taut peak in his mouth.
She arched against him as desire further hardened her nipples and set her blood to simmering. His fingers brushed the curve of her hip, before drifting lower, tracing the sensitive skin below her garter belt.
“You’re a bit naughty, Trish,” he whispered against her mouth.
Her answering chuckle melted into a moan when his fingers stroked her damp pussy. His eyes widened when his hand met no barrier.
“Very naughty indeed,” he murmured. He leaned away, cool air skittering across her heated flesh. “I’ve waited so long for this.”
“Too long,” she agreed.
Pivoting, he grabbed her hand and led her into the bedroom. The king-size bed dominated the room and sat in front of the mirrored doors to the closet. Artificial candlelight flickered around the room, casting muted shadows against the wallpaper while the soft scent of jasmine wafted through the air.
Warm fuzzies squeezed her heart. Despite being a day early he had surprised her. She stepped forward, her nylon-clad feet skimming against something cool and satiny. Rose petals trailed from the door to the bed. She perched on the edge of the bed, too overwhelmed to speak.
When she focused on him, he watched her with a hooded expression.
“It seems like you’ve thought about this, haven’t you?”
He tucked a curl behind her ear. “I get one chance to make a lasting impression.”
His eyes widened when she shoved him back on the bed and straddled his legs. The bulge grew and hardened beneath her thigh. She worked at loosening his tie. Once unknotted, she tossed it aside and focused on the buttons. With each button released from its mooring she revealed more of his amazing body. She pushed the shirt aside to trace the large, colorful dragon/koi tattoo that began on his left pec and wrapped around his bicep to disappear onto his back. Anticipation coiled in her belly. Oh how she wanted to find out how far his tattoo went.
“You’ve tortured me enough tonight and I think it’s time you paid up,” she murmured against his lips. She skimmed light, teasing kisses from his mouth to his jaw.
A startled gasp escaped her lips when he shifted and blanketed her body with his. He captured her wrists in one large hand and held them above her head.
“One day, very soon, I’m going have you tied and helpless beneath me.”
She sucked in a breath, holding his gaze, unwilling to admit how much she wanted the same thing.
He traced the swell of her breasts just above the neckline of her corset. “But there is one image of you I can’t seem to get out of my head.” He touched his lips to hers in a long, drugging kiss that left her craving more. “Are you game?”
“I’m yours for the weekend.”
He chuckled, a smoldering look scorching her body. She responded to that look. “Oh, I like how that sounds.”
Heat crept into her cheeks as she realized what she’d said. “I—uh, yeah.”
He nipped at her neck, even as he settled deeper into the vee of her thighs. The heavy bulge of his erection rubbed against her core. Instinctively she raised her hips in greeting.
“I want to watch you, beautiful,” he murmured against her lips.
She stiffened. “Watch me what?”
He rolled off her and helped her to sitting. “I want to watch you climax, before I send you over the edge again.”