From the Office of Kink & Karma: Love Me - Contemporary Paranormal BBW Interracial
Buy it Now from Changeling Press!
The Office of Kink and Karma is closed. After playing matchmaker and setting up three couples, Eric D’Amore can’t handle the stress any more. In addition, his used to be love and plaything, Melani, has shown up pregnant. Offering to help her any way he can, he sends Melani to his island for the duration of her pregnancy. Except now Eric has to deal with his pissed off brother, who also lives on the island, and doesn’t want Melani there. To top it off, the assistant he hired, who Eric was sure was a man, is a woman. Can it get any worse? Of course.
Sami is all about staring and fantasizing about her new boss. Until she finds out he could be the father of her ex-boss’s baby. Sami doesn’t want to deal with any baby-momma-drama. Besides, she’s got a rule firmly in place: Bosses don’t get the booty. Period. Her first job out of college showed her that you don’t play where you get paid. But Eric appeals to her in so many ways. One little touch can’t hurt, right?
Dropping her head to the cool marble, she took a deep breath. Killing the man behind the desk on her first day wouldn’t go over well with her new boss. Then again, maybe it would. Maybe she’d be doing the building residents a favor by getting rid of the pompous ass.
“Cris, Cristoff, whatever, cut the ‘madame’ crap. You’re from France just like I’m from Africa, as in, I’m not. I. Work. Here.” She tapped a nail on the counter, punctuating each word. “I’m going upstairs. Call who ya gotta call, but my ass,” Samantha smacked said ass for added effect, “is going up there.” She pointed at the ceiling. Maybe sign language would get through to him.
As she spoke the last word of her tirade, the elevator dinged announcing its arrival on the first floor. Samantha strode around the counter toward the elevator. Nothing would keep her from getting to the penthouse apartment. Nothing. Well, nothing except a six-foot, scrawny doorman who didn’t know when to quit. She could hear the quick click of his heels as he jogged to catch up to her and slid in front of her. Only five feet separated her from the open elevator doors.
“Listen, lady.” The faux French accent had disappeared and the Brooklyn borough slang she knew had been dying to come out rose to the surface.
Samantha patted Cristoff’s (who she privately believed to be a normal Christopher) chest lightly. “Good boy, Cris. Be yourself, you shouldn’t change who you are for a job.” Sidestepping him, she actually made it another two feet before being stopped again.
“I can’t let you go up there, lady. It’d be my job.”
Ooh. He whined like a two-year-old. Maybe he should stick with the faux French.
“And being up there right now is my job. Like I told you, my name is Samantha Pearson. I am Eric D’Amore’s new assistant and I start work today. How many different ways can I explain this to you? Would a French accent work? Maybe you only understand heavily accented English.”
Cris stared at her, his gaze moving from her feet to her head and back again. She noticed he lingered on her breasts and her hips. What? Did women nowadays not have bodies? She knew he was checking her out and from the look on his face, she didn’t measure up. Yeah, baby, got ass, hips, thighs, breasts and flabby arms. What of it?
“You don’t look like his normal assistants.”
She wanted to kick him. One little (okay, not so little) kick to the shin would give him a good jolt. Maybe it would be enough to make him think twice about saying something so rude again. “Since when does a person’s appearance matter for answering the phone and getting Mr. D’Amore from point A to point B on time?”
Now Samantha had her turn to arch her salon (okay, at-home) waxed eyebrow at the man.
“Um…”
“Exactly.” She snapped her fingers near his face, causing him to backup a step. Good. Cris had gotten too close for comfort. “Now, I’ll say this once and then I’m going to go Crouching Tiger on your ass. I’m going upstairs to Eric D’Amore’s apartment. I am his assistant –”
“Crouching what?”
Good Lord. “Chow Yun Fat? Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon? Any of this ring a bell? How about Jackie Chan? Everyone has seen a Jackie Chan movie.”
The blood drained from Cris’s already pale face, leaving him white as a ghost. “You’re threatening me?”
He sounded so scared. His voice even cracked as he said the word “me.” The man sounded like he hadn’t lived in New York for very long, as if violence wasn’t an everyday occurrence.
“Only if you continue to keep me from going to work. Go check your list or whatever and let me in.” She stomped her foot, punctuating each word.
“Promise to stay put?”
“No.” Not just no, but hell no. But she wouldn’t say that to him. Yet.
“L-look, l-lady…”
Sweat poured down poor Cris’s head and she felt bad about giving him such a hard time, but going from employed to unemployed to employed again had Samantha realizing how precious a job could be. “Fine. Go check your list. I’ll stay rooted to this spot.” But she’d be tapping her foot, making sure Cris knew she hated being left waiting.
Cris darted around her and jogged to the front desk, snatching the notorious “list” from beneath a jumble of papers. She resisted the urge to organize his work area — barely. He looked up, brows furrowed. “You wouldn’t happen to go by Sam, would you? There’s a Sam Pearson listed…”
Lord save Samantha from the nickname Mel had saddled her with when she first started working for her. Pinching the bridge of her nose, she nodded. “Yes, I also go by Sam.” As unprofessional as it sounds.
“Well, why didn’t you say so in the first place?” Cris dropped the paper back to the desk.
Must resist the urge to organize!
Cris smiled, and she watched as he dug through his pockets, searching for something. Finding what she assumed he’d been looking for, he walked toward her.
“Because I was having such a lovely time talking with you.”
“Really?” His smile widened.
“No.”
But it Now from Changeling Press!
Excerpt #2
Closing his eyes, he tilted his head back and let his mind wander. He mentally went through his “spank bank,” searching for a woman to occupy his fantasy. Flicking through memories, he passed over the blondes, brunettes and redheads who generally fueled his desire.
None of them could compare to the lush beauty that had been before him such a short time ago. Fuck! He couldn’t masturbate to his newest employee, couldn’t. But the image of her mocha skin and curvaceous body wouldn’t leave his mind. Eric imagined her berry-stained lips breaking into a sweet, sexy smile before she opened her mouth, swallowing him.
Eric tightened his grip on his cock, giving it a firm, solid stroke. The rough tug and milking of his erection brought his arousal forward. Those plump lips would slide along his cock, fitting him like a glove, stretching to accommodate his girth. Sami would take him all in, swallowing when the tip of his cock reached the back of her throat. But deep-throating wouldn’t be his favorite part. Just because a woman could swallow him didn’t mean she could give good head.
Sami seemed like a woman who knew every trick in the book. Sure, she’d take him deep, but on the way back, as she worked her mouth along his shaft, her tongue would swirl and flick along his length. She’d play his cock like an instrument, tapping out a beat they’d both recognize. When Sami reached the tip, she’d flick just below the crown, paying special attention to the “v” just before the head. So filled with nerves, the insistent pressure and rapid beat would nearly make his knees buckle.
Eric increased his pace, using the water as a lubricant. He stroked his shaft with quick, tight jerks. His orgasm approached, but his fantasy was far from over. Widening his stance, he snaked his other hand down his abdomen, over his six-pack abs he’d worked so hard for. Sifting through his curls, he cupped his sac, squeezing the now hardened balls within. Yeah, just like that. She’d give him a tug and squeeze, reminding him who was in charge.
Sami’s delicate fingers would contrast with his pale skin. One hand would grasp his hip, holding him steady, while the other cupped his balls. She wouldn’t be gentle. She’d start out with a soft caress and quickly turn to a pull, with a soft pinch thrown in for good measure. Yeah, she would know what she was doing. Her talented mouth would bring him to the brink with the constant slide of her lips up and down his shaft, and then her talented fingers would send a shiver of pain racing through him, chasing it away.
Eric squeezed his sac, rolling his nuts while his right hand tugged and jerked his cock. Fully erect, the head of his cock leaked pre-come, the fluid coating his shaft as he stroked. The milky-white fluid mixed with the water as it rained down on him. Breathing heavily, he felt his orgasm rush forward, and his mind wandered back to Sami.
She’d make the blowjob last so long, longer than any of his other lovers. Over and over again, she’d bring him to the edge. His breathing would become shallow, rough pants filling the room as she slid up and down his cock. Her hand holding his hip wouldn’t allow him to thrust into her mouth. He wanted to fuck. Fuck her face. Ram his cock down her throat, shooting the pearly liquid into her mouth and watch it trail down her chin. He’d own every inch of her body… if she’d let him.
He hoped she’d let him.
Sami’s fingers would travel. Mouth still enveloping his shaft, he imagined a smile appearing on her taut lips as her nails scraped the tender skin behind his balls. She’d touch a place no other lover had ever stroked before. A place he’d only ever ventured to when his fantasies went dark and deep. He’d rock his hips forward a little as he shifted his legs farther apart. How far would she take it? All the way. Sami didn’t seem to be a woman who did anything half-assed. Speaking of ass… The single questing digit would circle his asshole, rimming the puckered flesh.
Eric moaned, the sound echoing off the tile walls. He hadn’t done this to himself in months. Had been afraid of what it could mean, really. Fingers slick with water, he pressed the tip of one finger past the first ring of muscle. It gave way easily. Just the tiny penetration brought his orgasm rushing forward, threatening to burst. The nerve endings of his body thrummed to life.
Release approaching, his movements became jerky. But it didn’t slow his climax. No, it seemed to intensify, traveling along his skin like a million tiny locomotives, heading for the same destination. Eric’s cock pulsed and leaked more pre-come, harkening his orgasm’s arrival. The feeling, the need to come and conquer, settled in his lower back. It slid around his waist, wrapping his groin in now familiar and intensified warmth. Soon.
Tightening his grasp, he squeezed the steel-like shaft and concentrated his rough jerks on the tip where most of the nerves lay. As he slid the finger in his ass deeper, he hunched, aching to be filled further still. “Fuck yes…” He growled low, the sound mixing with the pattering of the water.
Pressing his finger deeper still, he searched for his P-spot. If women could have a “PraiseJesusHalleluahAmen” button, why couldn’t men? He’d never penetrated himself so deeply before, and if he stopped to think about it, he might have chickened out. But the woman on the other side of his apartment brought out the dirtiest thoughts and desires he had.
As he slid his finger over a soft ridge, stars burst behind his eyes. Fuck, he’d found it and they hadn’t been lying.
