Originally published June 8, 2007 at www.butterscotchmartinigirls.com
Good morning everyone!! It’s another Friday, so here I am again. Since my first book with the Kensington Aprhodisia line comes out July 31st and I’m deep into writing the next one in the series, I thought I’d post an excerpt to whet your appetites 🙂 As I said above, fair warning – this excerpt contains foul language, frank sexual terms and discussions and snarky sarcasm (three of my favorite things!) Heck, add butterscotch martinis and I’d call it a great date! 🙂 Anyway, here we go…
“You,” he pointed toward her, “are Alyssandra de Klatch, first Princess of the Klatch. And I’ve told you for years, one day I’d find you and we could finally be together.”
Shock traveled all the way to her gut. When she dreamed of him, he’d always called her Alyssandra or Princess. That was one of the reasons she’d always assumed he was purely a product of her overactive imagination. All of this was crazy, but something inside her knew he wasn’t lying. But a Princess? Not likely.
“Stone,” she whispered. I might be losing my mind, but if I get to be insane with him for the rest of my life, I’ll take that over what I’ve lived for the past twenty-three years.
He nodded, his lopsided smile making his dimple more pronounced. “Yes, you remember me.” He looked pleased. “If you’d taken better care of yourself, witch, then you wouldn’t have had to subsist on dreams. Since I’m here now, we can rectify that situation.”
She blushed as she realized exactly what his definition of “rectify” was. “Stop calling me witch and just answer the rest of my questions!” Or throw me on the floor now, and we can talk later…
He shook his head. “Your heritage is very strong.” He rubbed his stomach and chuckled. “As well as the rest of you. But you are a witch. A Klatch witch.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “You said my name was Alyssandra de Klatch. But that still doesn’t make me a witch. And I was born Alyssa Moss.”
“No, actually you were stolen from your true family by Cunts.”
“Excuse me?” she demanded, shocked he would use the offensive term in front of her. “I’m far from prude, but I hate that word.”
“As you should.” He laughed, the warm sexy sound, which had melted her in her dreams, even now caused her nipples to tighten against her thin cotton top. His eyes zeroed in on her shirt as if he knew. She blushed and looked away. “My apologies. You have lived among the humans for far too long to understand my reference. Long ago, the Klatch had a civil war and split into two factions, the original Klatch and a new faction who called themselves Cunts.”
Alyssa snorted in disbelief. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”
“As much as I’d like to fuck you…no. I do not joke about our history.” He took another long pull of the water and she was fascinated by the way his throat worked as he swallowed. She resisted a sudden urge to run her tongue over the dip in his throat where his Adam’s apple bobbed. His eyes glinted with mirth and she was afraid he knew what she’d been thinking.
Mercifully, he continued without mentioning it. In one fluid movement, he stood and pulled her to him, pressing her against the long line of his body. Her breath caught in her throat and every inch of her body screamed for her to rub herself shamelessly against him—or maybe just throw him on the floor and impale herself on his cock.
The sudden urge slapped her back to reality and she bolted from his grasp, putting the couch between them. He merely chuckled and continued. “The word ‘cunt’ is used as a slur because witches interact with humans and they pick up on our language. ‘Cunt’ has become synonymous with ‘traitor’ and ‘outcast’ to any witch. Although the humans use it in a slightly different way. Now come and kiss me, Alyssandra, I want to finally feel your lips in the physical world.”
When he started around the couch after her, she held up a hand. “Wait.” She gave her traitorous body a firm talking to, this can’t be real so work with me here, and pierced him with her most skeptical stare. “What do witches have to do with this? You mean like Wiccans?”
He leaned forward resting his forearms on the back of the couch, causing the already tight black T-shirt to mold over the best shoulders she’d ever seen. Shoulders she knew she’d seen before—and felt before. She licked her lips at the sudden urge to trace each inch of his muscular shoulders with her tongue.
He continued, breaking her out of her thoughts. “Wiccans are humans who choose to practice a set of beliefs. Being Klatch is what you are.” He shook his head and sighed. “I can see the Cunts withheld from you your heritage. This must be remedied.” His hand snaked out to grab her arm and he pulled her to him across the back of the couch. When he cradled her in his lap on the couch, his strong arms bracketed around her, a sexual thrill zinged straight to her pussy. The fact that a very large bulge swelled against her hip only served to scramble her thoughts further.
He smiled, his eyes darkened dangerously. But a dangerous she knew from ten years of dreams that meant wonderful sexual things, not anything to harm her. Every erogenous zone in her body rejoiced, drowning her in a sea of sexual energy.
She put her fingers against his lips when he lowered his face to hers. “Please, tell me about the Klatch.” Anything to keep him talking until she could figure out how he evoked these feelings inside her.
“A Klatch witch is a being who needs sexual energy to survive. We also eat and drink, but in order to thrive, we must imbibe sexual energy.” He kissed the fingers still resting lightly against his lips and then pulled one into his mouth. He sucked on the tip and swirled his tongue in a familiar pattern she remembered him using on the soft underside of her clit—which throbbed in response. She pulled her finger away, her breathing coming in short gasps.
His voice was a low rumble when he spoke. “Intercourse is the best and easiest, but any kind of sexual energy will do: masturbation, voyeurism or even sexual dreams.”
Alyssa found herself laughing despite the sexually charged atmosphere. “You’re trying to tell me I’m some kind of sexual vampire?”
“Good God, no.” He looked horrified at the suggestion. “You are no succubus, Princess. You are my betrothed and a full-blooded Princess of Klatch.”
“Betrothed?” She gasped, and her mouth fell open. “As in engaged to be married?”
He nodded. “Yes, most Klatch never marry. They will either have half-breed children with humans or just feed from humans sexually their whole lives. But the full blooded Klatch are betrothed at birth to another of full blood to retain the line and our heritage.” He lowered his mouth to hers, but at the first jolting and very familiar touch of his lips, she squirmed out of his grasp and put half the room’s distance between them.
Alyssa’s mind whirled. When he was near her, it felt like all her circuits were on overload. She looked up into his darkened lavender eyes. The hunk of testosterone who sat across from her thought he was her fiancé? How lucky could she get? Her body immediately wanted to claim its conjugal rights. But then her overly logical mind weighed in and ruined everything.
Copyright 2007 by Cassie Ryan