Here's a blast from the past. :) A snippet from my first menage, Love Slave for Two (which is technically the second book in the series because of the prequel, Beginnings).
Enjoy. :)
--
Both men stayed home, carefully avoiding the other. She couldn’t keep them in the same room for more than a few minutes at a time. Thomas let Tyler make lunch. After they finished eating, he wordlessly helped clean up the kitchen. Ah good. Finally, a thaw.
She needed to act before her afternoon pain pill knocked her out. It had to be today. The tension in the air suffocated her. She wanted to curl up with her boys—both of them.
When they finished cleaning the kitchen she called them into the living room to stand before her. She’d retrieved her phone from the office on her last potty trip. Tyler’s BlackBerry was clipped to his slacks.
She held out her hand. “Tyler, give me your phone.”
“What?”
She snapped her fingers. “Give it.” Puzzled but compliant, he unclipped the holster and handed it to her.
Thomas watched, curious.
She studied her boys for a long moment then used the remote to mute the TV. She deliberately kept her voice soft.
“I want you to stay silent and listen. Simply nod or shake your heads unless I ask you a question requiring an answer, understand?”
The men glanced at each other, but nodded.
“Good. I love you. Both of you, got that? Not one or the other. We were perfectly happy a little over two weeks ago, and I want that happiness back. Do you still love me?”
They immediately nodded.
“Do you still love each other?”
The men nodded—Tyler first, without hesitation.
“Good.” She let the silence settle for a moment, allowing them to ponder that. “Am I still your little slave?”
They nodded.
“Are you still both my masters?”
Nods.
“This morning, you have each promised me you’d do whatever I asked. Did you mean it?”
Another glance at each other, but they nodded.
“Strip.”
Thomas started to say something and she pointed at him. “Did I say you could speak? That was an order, not a question.”
His mouth snapped shut, and he shook his head.
The men looked at her, then each other, and started undressing.
She smiled, nodding. “Very good,” she purred. “That pleases me.”
When they stood naked before her, she let them stand there for a few long minutes before speaking. “Thomas, why did you fall in love with Tyler?”
“What?”
“Did you not hear the question, or did you not understand it?”
He frowned, studying her. She saw the wheels turning in his head, trying to figure out what she was up to. She struggled to keep her gaze off Tyler. She knew Tyler understood, and Nevvie didn’t want Thomas to think Tyler was in on this, tag-teaming him and backing him into a corner where his ego would force him to resist her efforts.
Thomas finally answered. “I fell in love with him for a lot of reasons.”
“Did you guys have sex on the first date?” She already knew this but had to make him remember.
He looked at the floor. “No. We went out for coffee.” She watched him steal a glance at Tyler, who stood with his arms crossed while studying the ceiling fan.
“What happened on your date?”
“We talked for about four hours.”
“Tell me about your next date. What did you do?” Again she knew this, but in light of her recent insights she now understood why Tyler did what he did.
“He called me the next day and asked if I wanted to go with him to a Lightning game. The Thrashers were in town. I said sure.”
“And?”
Thomas didn’t speak at first. Then, with a soft voice full of memories, “He got us box seats, center ice. Expensive seats.”
“Was it a good game?”
He shrugged. “I was rooting for the Thrashers, but it didn’t matter that the Bolts won. I normally rooted for them.”
“How did Tyler like it?”
A hint of a smile. “It was his first hockey game ever.” Thomas shook his head. “He thought an icing call was when the players cut hard and sprayed snow.” She smiled, as did Tyler. Thomas finally looked at his lover. “He didn’t know what checking meant. I had to explain it all to him, why they’d stop playing when the light at the officials’ bench went on, what a power play was, everything. It was cute.”
“If he’d never been to a hockey game before, why did he take you?”
Thomas remained quiet for a long moment. “Because I’d mentioned it when we had coffee. We were discussing sports and I said I liked hockey.”
“Tell me about your next date.”
“He cooked me dinner.”
“What’d he make?”
“Pork chops and sweet potato soufflé.”
“Interesting choice. Most people would try to impress with steak or something fancy.”
Thomas looked at the ceiling. She knew she’d made progress because his eyes moistened. “All right. He could have written my biography by our third date, and we went out two weeks before I even asked him about his family. I was an insensitive asshole. Point made.”
“No, point not made,” she insisted. “Turn and face each other.”
They looked at her, but complied.
“Move closer.”
They inched closer, still not touching, but she let them be. “What did Tyler give you your first Christmas together when you were dating?” She knew they’d only been together a couple of months at that point.
Thomas frowned then studied his feet again. “A Frank Lloyd Wright book I’d been looking for and couldn’t find because it was out of print. I couldn’t find any copies. He snagged a mint first edition.”
“What did you give him?” He didn’t answer. “Thomas?”
“All right.” He sighed. “I gave him a Wal-Mart gift card.” He looked at her. “Yes, I know, I was a schmuck. He hadn’t had time to wear off on me yet. I was still in grad school for chrissake.”
She laughed. Tyler smiled. Tyler had educated Thomas in many ways since then. “What did he say when you gave it to him?”
“He acted like it was the best thing he’d ever got.”
She let that sink in a moment before softly asking, “Why did you fall in love with Tyler?”
Thomas rubbed his nose. “Because he made me feel like I was the most important person in the world. He didn’t try to change me. I know I’m not stupid, but he’s classy and he never made me feel like I wasn’t, even back then. Because I was still in school and making shit money, and frankly I was a loud-mouthed asshole jock back then, but he wasn’t ashamed to take me to meet his friends or the professors he worked with. He was always proud of me even though his friends turned their noses up at me because I wasn’t classy enough in their eyes.”
He took a deep breath and finally met Tyler’s steady gaze. “He made me feel loved.”
--
You can get all five books in the Love Slave for Two series from Siren-BookStrand, Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and others. The reading order is:
1. Love Slave for Two: Beginnings (prequel)
2. Love Slave for Two
3. Love Slave for Two: Family Matters
4. Love Slave for Two: Reunions
5. Love Slave for Two: Reckoning
And some characters from my book Dead Moon Rising (writing as Macy Largo) also make an appearance in Love Slave for Two: Reunions. :)
Showing posts with label Macy Largo. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Macy Largo. Show all posts
Snippet: Love Slave for Two
at
6:26 PM
Tuesday, August 27, 2013
Adult Excerpt: "Dead Moon Rising"
at
1:00 AM
Tuesday, May 15, 2012
Looking for a spooky read? Try my book "Dead Moon Rising," writing as Macy Largo, and available from Siren-BookStrand.
http://www.bookstrand.com/dead-moon-rising
Blurb:
[#205 Siren Ménage Everlasting: Erotic Paranormal Ménage a Trois Romance, M/M/F]
Sarah’s moving from Seattle to Miami when a cranky car and a terrifying brush with a serial killer leave her stranded in the middle of the dark and desolate South Dakota plains. Captain Plato Delaney of the South Dakota Highway Patrol is on the killer’s trail, and Sarah is the only living witness.
With limited funds and nowhere to go, Del invites her to stay with him and his lover, John Riley, himself a retired Trooper. It’s not long before the killer is on Sarah’s trail…and she’s in Del and John’s bed. Now the men have to protect Sarah against a killer who stays one step ahead of the law. But Sarah’s flashes of intuition prove to be stronger than any of them thought, and her conversations with the ghost of a little boy murdered decades earlier might be the key to saving them all from another Dead Moon Rising.
A Siren Erotic Romance
You can find all my Siren releases as Tymber Dalton, Macy Largo, and Tessa Monroe on my Siren page at:
http://www.bookstrand.com/tymber-dalton
---
Adult Excerpt:
“Please make me come!” she begged.
He chuckled. “No, baby. I told you, I want you on a high simmer for Del.” The front door opened and immediately slammed shut again. “And there he is.”
The sound of pounding footsteps down the hall reached them. By the time Del hit the doorway, he already had his shirt off and was ripping his bulletproof vest off, too.
John sat up, making her moan again. “Easy, tiger. Give me your piece.”
Del kissed him as he yanked off his holster belt. “Jesus, I can taste her on you.”
“Have a taste yourself.” He climbed off the bed to safely stow Del’s sidearm in the closet lockbox when Del, still in his uniform pants and shoes, dove onto her.
“Hiya, baby.”
She giggled. “He’s mean. He won’t let me come.”
“Oh, is he now? Well, let’s see what we can do about that.” He kissed her as she wrapped her arms around him and tried to hump herself against his rock-hard thigh.
She melted beneath him, his aggressive passion stoking the flames within her even higher. Despite Del’s usually gentle ways, she’d always suspected, from the hunger in his eyes when he looked at John, that he took control in bed.
John returned. “Jesus, get naked, for chrissake.”
“You have no idea how horny I’ve been all afternoon.” He sat up and pulled her with him, lowering his mouth to her breasts, one then the other, eagerly nipping and sucking. “The thought of the two of you, in bed together”—he kissed her again, sucking on her tongue—“and knowing what I had waiting for me has been torture.”
John knelt behind him and unfastened his slacks while Del continued kissing her. “Ten seconds, buddy, that’s all it takes to get naked.” He shoved Del’s slacks and briefs down his hips and grabbed his cock. “You want that inside our sweet girl, you need to get these off first.”
“Fuck!” He stood and kicked off his shoes, ripped off his T-shirt and socks, and shoved his pants off, nearly tripping when he pulled the last leg off.
John used the opening to lie down on the bed and pull her on top of him. “Just like I told you earlier, baby. I want to eat you out while he’s fucking you.”
Del froze. “Holy fuck,” he whispered, “that’s goddamned hot!”
“Then get your ass back in bed.” He handed him a condom.
Sarah settled over John’s head, eagerly grabbing his throbbing cock and sucking on it. He pulled her hips down so he could reach her pussy with his mouth and latched onto her clit.
Moaning, she released his cock. “Please, dammit, fuck me!”
That broke Del’s spell. He frantically ripped the pouch open and rolled the condom on before carefully kneeling behind her. She looked at him over her shoulder, her heart melting at the dark passion in his blue eyes.
“You want this cock, baby?” he hoarsely asked.
She nodded.
He teased her, rubbing the head up and down her soaked pussy, parting her lips with it even as John flicked her clit with his tongue.
She thought the explosion John had brought her earlier rocked her world, but suspected that experience was about to be blown out of the water.
He squeezed her ass. “You’re so beautiful,” he said. He kissed her back, feathering his tongue over her cheeks, down between them, to her ass, teasing her. “Another fantasy, I think for tomorrow since I have the day off.” He sank his cock home inside her, a little larger than John, making her moan.
“Yes!”
Del grabbed her hips. “Okay, baby. I want to hear those moans around his cock. Make him come for me while I fuck you.”
She slurped him back down as deep as she could. John moaned around her clit, setting off a chain reaction inside her. As Del fucked her, hard and fast, stroking every last nerve ending inside her, John sucked on her clit, not holding back.
Explosive fireworks went off inside her womb, spreading out through her body as she screamed around John’s cock.
“Oh, fuck yeah, baby!” Del cried out, thrusting harder, deeper, the sound of skin slapping skin as his balls hit her with each stroke.
She wasn’t done. Another, stronger wave crashed over her, robbing her of strength as John’s hands clamped tightly on her thighs and refused to let her move.
“Yes!” With one last thrust, she felt Del’s cock throb inside her as John’s exploded in her mouth, filling her senses with his sweet, musky essence.
Del’s hands hit the bed on either side of her, holding him up, keeping him from crushing both of them, but she felt his chest hair against her back, both of them slick with moisture.
John relaxed his grip on her and placed a final, gentle kiss on her clit. “Good?” he mumbled from beneath her.
She let his softening member slide from her mouth and laughed. “Um, yeah.”
Del nipped her shoulder. “Jesus, baby, I think my brains exploded through my cock. Hot damn, that was fucking awesome.” He sat up. “And you, mister. What the hell was that you did to me?”
She wished he didn’t have to pull out, but knew the condom made it a necessity. Once Del stepped away from the bed, she swung off John, who sat up with a smile on his face. “What? I just let my fingers do the walking.” He winked at her and kissed her.
“What’d you do?” she asked.
She heard the toilet flush, and Del returned. “He shoved his finger up my ass is what he did, sneaky bastard.”
“Didn’t you like it?” John asked, the picture of innocence.
“Fuck yeah, I loved it.” He stretched out in bed and pulled her down to him, kissing her. “Maybe next time you can actually fuck me while I’m doing that.”
John curled up on her other side, one hand snaking down and coming to rest between her legs. “Mmm. You trying to get me hard again, or what?”
“Is it working?” Del asked.
She giggled.
Del arched an eyebrow at her. “What’s so funny?”
“You two. You’re too much.”
He kissed her again, this time gently, tenderly. “You might be thinking we’re too much by this time tomorrow night. Not letting you loose any time soon.”
“What about dinner?” John asked.
“What about it?” He sat up, moved John’s hand, and licked her mound. “I have a snack.”
--
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"Sunset Hearts" available at a discount.
at
7:36 PM
Thursday, May 10, 2012
My book "Sunset Hearts" (writing as Macy Largo) is currently available at a discounted price until 5/14 from Siren-BookStrand. :)
http://www.bookstrand.com/sunset-hearts
You can find all my Siren-BookStrand titles under all four of my pen names (Tymber Dalton, Lesli Richardson, Macy Largo, and Tessa Monroe) on my Siren author page at:
http://www.bookstrand.com/tymber-dalton
http://www.bookstrand.com/sunset-hearts
You can find all my Siren-BookStrand titles under all four of my pen names (Tymber Dalton, Lesli Richardson, Macy Largo, and Tessa Monroe) on my Siren author page at:
http://www.bookstrand.com/tymber-dalton
"Red Tide" - A little backstory.
at
2:38 PM
Monday, May 7, 2012
My latest release, "Red Tide," is officially available today. I love this book because it was the manuscript I was actively working on when I first met Hubby (aka "The World's Greatest Husband(TM)). We were both members of the Novels-L critique list through the Internet Writing Workshop, and he was one of the people critiquing my manuscript.
Flash forward to now, going on fifteen years later... :)
"Red Tide" is the first of a series of books with Mitch and Ed, the lead characters. Sami and Matt, from "Out of the Darkness," will also appear from time to time (as they do in "Red Tide.") I love writing mystery and suspense, as well as the paranormal, and no I probably shouldn't have sat on this book as long as I did, but I'm glad Siren accepted it and allowed it to finally see the light of day. It was a "labor of love" in more ways than one. :)
But also, keep an eye out for later in the year, as I put out the first of my spin-off series, the Coffeeshop Coven books, which will be a menage series set around the Many Blessings shop in "Out of the Darkness."
http://www.bookstrand.com/tymber-dalton
And yes, the town of Aripeka, where I set "Red Tide" (and my Macy Largo book, "Sunset Hearts") really does exist. I lived there for a while, and it's a place full of history and atmosphere.
"Red Tide" is the first of a series of books with Mitch and Ed, the lead characters. Sami and Matt, from "Out of the Darkness," will also appear from time to time (as they do in "Red Tide.") I love writing mystery and suspense, as well as the paranormal, and no I probably shouldn't have sat on this book as long as I did, but I'm glad Siren accepted it and allowed it to finally see the light of day. It was a "labor of love" in more ways than one. :)
But also, keep an eye out for later in the year, as I put out the first of my spin-off series, the Coffeeshop Coven books, which will be a menage series set around the Many Blessings shop in "Out of the Darkness."
http://www.bookstrand.com/tymber-dalton
And yes, the town of Aripeka, where I set "Red Tide" (and my Macy Largo book, "Sunset Hearts") really does exist. I lived there for a while, and it's a place full of history and atmosphere.
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Macy Largo & Tessa Monroe books
at
5:07 PM
Monday, January 23, 2012
I still get comments from readers who don't realize I've been published under more than one pen name. *smile* I've been published mostly as Tymber Dalton, but I am also published as Lesli Richardson, Macy Largo, and Tessa Monroe.As Macy Largo, I wrote "Dead Moon Rising" (contemporary, paranormal, mmf) and "Sunset Hearts" (contemporary, suspense, mmf) for the American Heroes collection for Siren-BookStrand.
As Tessa Monroe, I wrote "Sarasota Steam" (historical, cowboy, mmf) for the Lost series. If you enjoyed that one, you might enjoy "Hernando Heat" (historical, cowboy, mfm) which I wrote as Tymber Dalton.
My first book published by Siren was "Cross Country Chaos" (as Lesli Richardson). I do have more books planned for that group of characters, I just haven't had time to write them yet.You can find all my Siren books linked through my Tymber Dalton page at:
http://www.bookstrand.com/tymber-dalton
Spooky Excerpt: Dead Moon Rising
at
7:34 PM
Sunday, October 30, 2011
Looking for a spooky read for this time of year? Try my book "Dead Moon Rising," writing as Macy Largo, available from Siren-BookStrand.
http://www.bookstrand.com/dead-moon-rising
Excerpt:
The sun had long since set in the distance behind her on I-90, painting the rolling South Dakota plains landscape with deep reds and oranges before it disappeared, setting Sarah’s teeth on edge. Not because it wasn’t pretty, but because her intuition screamed at her as darkness descended.
Bad, baaaad juju.
Destination: Miami, Florida. There, Sarah Aston’s uncle, Eddie, had promised her she could live with him, get a new start on her life, and put her ex-boyfriend behind her.
Unfortunately, her cranky fifteen year-old Subaru didn’t seem up to the trip.
The moonless night was dimly lit by countless stars in a crystal-clear sky. Despite the warm June evening, she shivered.
An exit sign appeared in her anemic headlights, which seemed to lose strength over the past hour or so. She suspected a cranky alternator staging a last stand of General Custer proportions. Unfortunately, probably with the same result.
Swinging off the highway onto the exit, she soon found an unmanned gas station with lights and pumps on for those who could pay via plastic. Fortunately, she still had three hundred dollars left on the pre-paid MasterCard she’d bought before rolling out of Seattle, and almost five hundred more in cash stashed in a plastic zip-top bag shoved inside a wad of dirty underwear in her overnight bag.
Taking a risk to leave it running, she shut the headlights off and anxiously looked around while she gassed up. She resisted the urge to nervously dance from foot to foot as she muttered at the pump to hurry up.
This is bad. Really, really baaaad. Of epic proportions, major horror movie creepies, zombies crawling out of the woodwork baaaad.
When ten, she’d fractured her skull falling out of a tree in their Seattle backyard. In the sixteen years since then, she’d had the intuitions. She refused to call them psychic flashes. They were warnings of a sort, but always accurate. She didn’t want to believe any supernatural explanations. She just knew that something about the accident had put her more in tune with her body’s natural warning signs. Unfortunately, most of her friends and family decided it creeped them out enough that they didn’t want to spend much time around her. Especially when she accurately predicted the deaths of her parents and three friends over the past several years.
The latest prediction before tonight’s creepfest, fortunately, didn’t forewarn of anything nearly as dire, only that her boyfriend had been cheating on her.
True, of course.
Uncle Eddie didn’t care about her “special talent” and had welcomed her with open arms when he found out she wanted a new start after her ex-boyfriend royally screwed her and left her pretty much out on the street. After she’d confronted the louse, he gave her one hour to get her stuff packed and get out. She’d managed to snag the ATM card and empty their joint bank account, most of the money of which was hers to begin with.
Despite the fact that she paid most of the bills, the lease and utilities were in his name, so she couldn’t fight him.
She’d tried not to think about her anger and pain over his betrayal, instead wanting to focus on the new life ahead of her in Miami. But ever since sunset, a deep, dark feeling blossomed inside her, the antithesis of joy and longing. She had two options, both extremely restricted by her car’s iffy performance and limited funds—press on and pray she drove out of whatever the feeling was, or stop right here, lock the doors, and hope someone showed up for work sooner rather than later.
As she finished fueling, a dark sedan heading toward I-90 rolled by, doing slower than the posted speed limit.
The nearly overwhelming dark cloud suddenly engulfing her made her mind up for her. She impatiently waited for the pump to spit out her receipt as her fingers trembled while trying to screw the gas cap on. The sedan had totally disappeared from sight by the time she turned to jump into her car.
A little relief settled. Whoever—whatever—had been in that car had been the cause of her unease.
Or maybe I’m just a nervous woman travelling alone cross-country for the first time and pissing my pants at the sight of the first car I’ve seen in over an hour.
She turned the headlights on, one of her dash indicator lights blipping briefly at her before shutting off again. The voltage light.
Damn.
Reflected in the dark windows of the gas station’s store, she could tell the headlights definitely looked weaker than they should be.
Maybe staying, now that she felt a little more settled, would be safer.
That won’t get me to Florida.
A check of her cheap-ass pre-paid cell phone showed no service in the area. A brief look around, and the only pay phone holder was missing its phone. Damn.
With a tight grip on the steering wheel, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath.
What to do?
Finally, she shifted the car into drive and headed back to I-90. At last check, she was less than an hour west of Mitchell. If she could make it there, she could find someplace safe to pull in and wait until morning, get her car looked at, and maybe get a cell signal. She kept the radio and air conditioning off to preserve her battery like her uncle had warned her at her last call and drove on through the lonely darkness.
* * * *
Captain Plato Delaney of the South Dakota Highway Patrol sat in his cruiser on the westbound shoulder of I-90, five miles east of Mitchell, and filled out paperwork. Nerves on edge, he prayed his intuition proved wrong this time.
Unfortunately for him, it usually didn’t.
In the past year, there had been four “new moon murders,” all unsolved, on this lonely stretch of road between Sioux Falls and Rapid City. No one wanted to believe him when he said he suspected they were connected by the lunar cycle. It wasn’t unheard of for stranded motorists to fall victim to foul play in such desolate settings. There were enough differences in the cases, and too few leads, that his superiors didn’t want to put out extra manpower on new moon nights, especially not with the huge Sturgis motorcycle festival less than two months away. While no one had outright said as much, they made it clear to him that such bad publicity right before their biggest tourist season wasn’t welcomed.
In the past hour, only three vehicles had passed him, two of them semis heading east in the other lane toward Sioux Falls. He jumped when his personal cell phone rang.
“You scared the crap out of me, John.”
The caller chuckled. “Sorry, babe. How goes the stake out?”
Only Del’s lover, John Riley, believed and agreed with his theory. A retired trooper himself, he’d looked at the evidence and nodded. “I think you’re on to something, Del, but good luck convincing the brass of that before Sturgis.” And of course John, seven years older than his own thirty-nine, had been right about that, even though Del had thought maybe he could make their superiors listen to his hunch despite a lack of evidence.
Del prayed no one else died before Sturgis ended. Maybe then he could convince someone to take another look at the cases.
“All quiet in my little stretch of hell. I’ve got about ten more minutes on this report, and then I’m heading west again past Mitchell before I loop around.”
“I’m going to bed, but I’ll keep the phone close. I know you hate the overnights, but if it means anything, I think you’re right.”
Del resisted the urge to close his eyes and rest. He normally worked day shifts. He’d volunteered to cover for another trooper out with the birth of his first child when Del realized it would overlap a new moon period. “Thanks. Try to get some sleep.”
“Not easy in this big ole bed without you here. I’ll have the kettle brewing when you get home. Love you, and stay safe.”
“Love you, too.” Del hung up and stared at the phone. John hated his early forced retirement four years prior due to an accident that shattered his legs and hips. Now he worked as a freelance computer consultant and software designer from their shared home in Mitchell. Del knew John missed the job, could see the wistful longing in his face every time he sent him off on a shift and heard the eagerness in his voice when Del discussed cases with him.
His intuition buzzed. It’d been two uneventful new moons since the last killing. This was the third. If the pattern held, there would be a murder tonight. Maybe not on his stretch of highway, but somewhere in the lonely blackness between the lights of the two gateway cities that stood sentry to this ribbon of asphalt.
Finally finishing his report, he shut off the cabin lights and headed west, alone on the interstate.
* * * *
Sarah prayed her luck held. She clicked the headlights off, leaving just her running lights on for safety. Checking her mirrors frequently, she spotted no one coming up behind her on the interstate. She had just enough light to make out the road ahead of her if she took it easy. After fifteen minutes, the dark feeling swelled within her again.
In the distance up ahead, she spotted two vehicles pulled over on the right shoulder. The one in front, a dual-axle Ford truck with a crew cab, hauling a fifth-wheel camper, had its flashers on and a flat on the trailer.
Behind it on the shoulder, headlights dark but his parking lights on, was parked the dark sedan that had passed her earlier.
Sliding over to the left lane, she hunched down and prayed her car didn’t break down. Her stomach rebelled, threatening to upend. As she drew closer, she spotted an older man talking to another one. The older man, she assumed the owner of the rig, held a flashlight pointed down at the ground, although the light illuminated both of them.
The other man leaned against the front left fender of the sedan as they talked. With a dark baseball cap pulled low, and the light from the flashlight below, she swore she spotted dark holes where his eyes should be as he looked up and seemingly right at her.
She gunned it, nerves screaming bloody murder for her to get the hell out of there.
Bad, baaaad juju!
Heart racing, she finally flipped on her headlights two miles down the road and realized she was doing eighty. Thankfully the road was mostly straight. Unfortunately, the headlights barely made more of a dent in the dark than her running lights.
Slowing a little, she pried one hand at a time off the steering wheel and flexed her nearly numb fingers.
Over the next fifteen miles, her headlights dwindled to faint glows. Then, without fanfare, the car simply shut off.
“No! Oh, fuck no, pleasepleaseplease!” Tears rolled down her face as she coasted onto the right shoulder, tires hauntingly crunching in the gravel as she steered to a stop safely off the highway. When she tried the key again, nothing but an ominous click met her efforts.
She dropped her forehead to the steering wheel and cried. The worst of the dark feeling had faded with every mile she put between her and the dark sedan, but it still lingered. Someone in that car was bad news, and the only weapon she had was her scathing sarcasm.
She assumed that wouldn’t be helpful against a psycho with a knife or gun.
Double checking that all four doors were locked, she pulled out her cell phone again and tried to get a signal. Nothing.
There were probably worse places to be stuck in a broken down car in the middle of the night with no cell phone reception and a really bad something out there giving her the heebie-jeebies, but off the top of her head, she couldn’t think of one.
----
You can find all my Siren releases as Tymber Dalton, Lesli Richardson, Macy Largo, and Tessa Monroe on my Siren page at:
http://www.bookstrand.com/tymber-dalton
http://www.bookstrand.com/dead-moon-rising
Excerpt:
The sun had long since set in the distance behind her on I-90, painting the rolling South Dakota plains landscape with deep reds and oranges before it disappeared, setting Sarah’s teeth on edge. Not because it wasn’t pretty, but because her intuition screamed at her as darkness descended.
Bad, baaaad juju.
Destination: Miami, Florida. There, Sarah Aston’s uncle, Eddie, had promised her she could live with him, get a new start on her life, and put her ex-boyfriend behind her.
Unfortunately, her cranky fifteen year-old Subaru didn’t seem up to the trip.
The moonless night was dimly lit by countless stars in a crystal-clear sky. Despite the warm June evening, she shivered.
An exit sign appeared in her anemic headlights, which seemed to lose strength over the past hour or so. She suspected a cranky alternator staging a last stand of General Custer proportions. Unfortunately, probably with the same result.
Swinging off the highway onto the exit, she soon found an unmanned gas station with lights and pumps on for those who could pay via plastic. Fortunately, she still had three hundred dollars left on the pre-paid MasterCard she’d bought before rolling out of Seattle, and almost five hundred more in cash stashed in a plastic zip-top bag shoved inside a wad of dirty underwear in her overnight bag.
Taking a risk to leave it running, she shut the headlights off and anxiously looked around while she gassed up. She resisted the urge to nervously dance from foot to foot as she muttered at the pump to hurry up.
This is bad. Really, really baaaad. Of epic proportions, major horror movie creepies, zombies crawling out of the woodwork baaaad.
When ten, she’d fractured her skull falling out of a tree in their Seattle backyard. In the sixteen years since then, she’d had the intuitions. She refused to call them psychic flashes. They were warnings of a sort, but always accurate. She didn’t want to believe any supernatural explanations. She just knew that something about the accident had put her more in tune with her body’s natural warning signs. Unfortunately, most of her friends and family decided it creeped them out enough that they didn’t want to spend much time around her. Especially when she accurately predicted the deaths of her parents and three friends over the past several years.
The latest prediction before tonight’s creepfest, fortunately, didn’t forewarn of anything nearly as dire, only that her boyfriend had been cheating on her.
True, of course.
Uncle Eddie didn’t care about her “special talent” and had welcomed her with open arms when he found out she wanted a new start after her ex-boyfriend royally screwed her and left her pretty much out on the street. After she’d confronted the louse, he gave her one hour to get her stuff packed and get out. She’d managed to snag the ATM card and empty their joint bank account, most of the money of which was hers to begin with.
Despite the fact that she paid most of the bills, the lease and utilities were in his name, so she couldn’t fight him.
She’d tried not to think about her anger and pain over his betrayal, instead wanting to focus on the new life ahead of her in Miami. But ever since sunset, a deep, dark feeling blossomed inside her, the antithesis of joy and longing. She had two options, both extremely restricted by her car’s iffy performance and limited funds—press on and pray she drove out of whatever the feeling was, or stop right here, lock the doors, and hope someone showed up for work sooner rather than later.
As she finished fueling, a dark sedan heading toward I-90 rolled by, doing slower than the posted speed limit.
The nearly overwhelming dark cloud suddenly engulfing her made her mind up for her. She impatiently waited for the pump to spit out her receipt as her fingers trembled while trying to screw the gas cap on. The sedan had totally disappeared from sight by the time she turned to jump into her car.
A little relief settled. Whoever—whatever—had been in that car had been the cause of her unease.
Or maybe I’m just a nervous woman travelling alone cross-country for the first time and pissing my pants at the sight of the first car I’ve seen in over an hour.
She turned the headlights on, one of her dash indicator lights blipping briefly at her before shutting off again. The voltage light.
Damn.
Reflected in the dark windows of the gas station’s store, she could tell the headlights definitely looked weaker than they should be.
Maybe staying, now that she felt a little more settled, would be safer.
That won’t get me to Florida.
A check of her cheap-ass pre-paid cell phone showed no service in the area. A brief look around, and the only pay phone holder was missing its phone. Damn.
With a tight grip on the steering wheel, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath.
What to do?
Finally, she shifted the car into drive and headed back to I-90. At last check, she was less than an hour west of Mitchell. If she could make it there, she could find someplace safe to pull in and wait until morning, get her car looked at, and maybe get a cell signal. She kept the radio and air conditioning off to preserve her battery like her uncle had warned her at her last call and drove on through the lonely darkness.
* * * *
Captain Plato Delaney of the South Dakota Highway Patrol sat in his cruiser on the westbound shoulder of I-90, five miles east of Mitchell, and filled out paperwork. Nerves on edge, he prayed his intuition proved wrong this time.
Unfortunately for him, it usually didn’t.
In the past year, there had been four “new moon murders,” all unsolved, on this lonely stretch of road between Sioux Falls and Rapid City. No one wanted to believe him when he said he suspected they were connected by the lunar cycle. It wasn’t unheard of for stranded motorists to fall victim to foul play in such desolate settings. There were enough differences in the cases, and too few leads, that his superiors didn’t want to put out extra manpower on new moon nights, especially not with the huge Sturgis motorcycle festival less than two months away. While no one had outright said as much, they made it clear to him that such bad publicity right before their biggest tourist season wasn’t welcomed.
In the past hour, only three vehicles had passed him, two of them semis heading east in the other lane toward Sioux Falls. He jumped when his personal cell phone rang.
“You scared the crap out of me, John.”
The caller chuckled. “Sorry, babe. How goes the stake out?”
Only Del’s lover, John Riley, believed and agreed with his theory. A retired trooper himself, he’d looked at the evidence and nodded. “I think you’re on to something, Del, but good luck convincing the brass of that before Sturgis.” And of course John, seven years older than his own thirty-nine, had been right about that, even though Del had thought maybe he could make their superiors listen to his hunch despite a lack of evidence.
Del prayed no one else died before Sturgis ended. Maybe then he could convince someone to take another look at the cases.
“All quiet in my little stretch of hell. I’ve got about ten more minutes on this report, and then I’m heading west again past Mitchell before I loop around.”
“I’m going to bed, but I’ll keep the phone close. I know you hate the overnights, but if it means anything, I think you’re right.”
Del resisted the urge to close his eyes and rest. He normally worked day shifts. He’d volunteered to cover for another trooper out with the birth of his first child when Del realized it would overlap a new moon period. “Thanks. Try to get some sleep.”
“Not easy in this big ole bed without you here. I’ll have the kettle brewing when you get home. Love you, and stay safe.”
“Love you, too.” Del hung up and stared at the phone. John hated his early forced retirement four years prior due to an accident that shattered his legs and hips. Now he worked as a freelance computer consultant and software designer from their shared home in Mitchell. Del knew John missed the job, could see the wistful longing in his face every time he sent him off on a shift and heard the eagerness in his voice when Del discussed cases with him.
His intuition buzzed. It’d been two uneventful new moons since the last killing. This was the third. If the pattern held, there would be a murder tonight. Maybe not on his stretch of highway, but somewhere in the lonely blackness between the lights of the two gateway cities that stood sentry to this ribbon of asphalt.
Finally finishing his report, he shut off the cabin lights and headed west, alone on the interstate.
* * * *
Sarah prayed her luck held. She clicked the headlights off, leaving just her running lights on for safety. Checking her mirrors frequently, she spotted no one coming up behind her on the interstate. She had just enough light to make out the road ahead of her if she took it easy. After fifteen minutes, the dark feeling swelled within her again.
In the distance up ahead, she spotted two vehicles pulled over on the right shoulder. The one in front, a dual-axle Ford truck with a crew cab, hauling a fifth-wheel camper, had its flashers on and a flat on the trailer.
Behind it on the shoulder, headlights dark but his parking lights on, was parked the dark sedan that had passed her earlier.
Sliding over to the left lane, she hunched down and prayed her car didn’t break down. Her stomach rebelled, threatening to upend. As she drew closer, she spotted an older man talking to another one. The older man, she assumed the owner of the rig, held a flashlight pointed down at the ground, although the light illuminated both of them.
The other man leaned against the front left fender of the sedan as they talked. With a dark baseball cap pulled low, and the light from the flashlight below, she swore she spotted dark holes where his eyes should be as he looked up and seemingly right at her.
She gunned it, nerves screaming bloody murder for her to get the hell out of there.
Bad, baaaad juju!
Heart racing, she finally flipped on her headlights two miles down the road and realized she was doing eighty. Thankfully the road was mostly straight. Unfortunately, the headlights barely made more of a dent in the dark than her running lights.
Slowing a little, she pried one hand at a time off the steering wheel and flexed her nearly numb fingers.
Over the next fifteen miles, her headlights dwindled to faint glows. Then, without fanfare, the car simply shut off.
“No! Oh, fuck no, pleasepleaseplease!” Tears rolled down her face as she coasted onto the right shoulder, tires hauntingly crunching in the gravel as she steered to a stop safely off the highway. When she tried the key again, nothing but an ominous click met her efforts.
She dropped her forehead to the steering wheel and cried. The worst of the dark feeling had faded with every mile she put between her and the dark sedan, but it still lingered. Someone in that car was bad news, and the only weapon she had was her scathing sarcasm.
She assumed that wouldn’t be helpful against a psycho with a knife or gun.
Double checking that all four doors were locked, she pulled out her cell phone again and tried to get a signal. Nothing.
There were probably worse places to be stuck in a broken down car in the middle of the night with no cell phone reception and a really bad something out there giving her the heebie-jeebies, but off the top of her head, she couldn’t think of one.
----
You can find all my Siren releases as Tymber Dalton, Lesli Richardson, Macy Largo, and Tessa Monroe on my Siren page at:
http://www.bookstrand.com/tymber-dalton
Looking for a spooky read?
at
10:01 PM
Saturday, October 8, 2011
It's that time of year again, when we go out of our way to scare the bejeezus out of ourselves. :) If you're looking for a spooky menage to keep you up all night, how about trying my book "Dead Moon Rising," writing as Macy Largo.
http://www.bookstrand.com/dead-moon-rising
Blurb:
[#205 Siren Ménage Everlasting: Erotic Paranormal Ménage a Trois Romance, M/M/F]
Sarah’s moving from Seattle to Miami when a cranky car and a terrifying brush with a serial killer leave her stranded in the middle of the dark and desolate South Dakota plains. Captain Plato Delaney of the South Dakota Highway Patrol is on the killer’s trail, and Sarah is the only living witness.
With limited funds and nowhere to go, Del invites her to stay with him and his lover, John Riley, himself a retired Trooper. It’s not long before the killer is on Sarah’s trail…and she’s in Del and John’s bed. Now the men have to protect Sarah against a killer who stays one step ahead of the law. But Sarah’s flashes of intuition prove to be stronger than any of them thought, and her conversations with the ghost of a little boy murdered decades earlier might be the key to saving them all from another Dead Moon Rising.
A Siren Erotic Romance
You can find all my Siren-BookStrand releases under my various pen names, including my newest "Stoneface," at:
http://www.bookstrand.com/tymber-dalton
http://www.bookstrand.com/dead-moon-rising
Blurb:
[#205 Siren Ménage Everlasting: Erotic Paranormal Ménage a Trois Romance, M/M/F]
Sarah’s moving from Seattle to Miami when a cranky car and a terrifying brush with a serial killer leave her stranded in the middle of the dark and desolate South Dakota plains. Captain Plato Delaney of the South Dakota Highway Patrol is on the killer’s trail, and Sarah is the only living witness.
With limited funds and nowhere to go, Del invites her to stay with him and his lover, John Riley, himself a retired Trooper. It’s not long before the killer is on Sarah’s trail…and she’s in Del and John’s bed. Now the men have to protect Sarah against a killer who stays one step ahead of the law. But Sarah’s flashes of intuition prove to be stronger than any of them thought, and her conversations with the ghost of a little boy murdered decades earlier might be the key to saving them all from another Dead Moon Rising.
A Siren Erotic Romance
You can find all my Siren-BookStrand releases under my various pen names, including my newest "Stoneface," at:
http://www.bookstrand.com/tymber-dalton
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