As a big fan of books featuring MCs I'm thrilled to introduce you to Exquisite Trouble by Ann Mayburn, the first book in her sexy Iron Horse MC series. Keep reading to get a tantalizing taste of this steamy story and then fill out the form for the chance to win a signed print copy of this book, a $25 Amazon GC, an Iron Horse MC Property of Smoke t-shirt, along with eBooks from Ann's backlist.
I got dragged into the deadly world of the Iron Horse MC by my crazy twin sister who is engaged to the club’s President and the schemes of my even crazier mom who only cares about herself. Smoke has been assigned by the club to keep me safe even though he’s everything that I should be afraid of. He’s the kind of man who lives by his own rules and does whatever he wants whenever he wants, but he treats me like I’m something rare and precious, not a socially dysfunctional basket case who has no idea how to love, but needs him more than her next breath.
Not that my feelings matter, because if we don’t find my mother soon, the only thing I’ll have to be worried about is who is going to kill me first.
EXCERPT:
Dazzled by his presence, my mind was not working as well as it usually did. Case in point, encouraging a stranger to touch me.
He blinked at me and I could have sworn he was trying not to smile. Standing, he looked down at me and ran his fingers through my hair, or tried to. It was a little tangled from being shoved up under a hood. When I winced he made a low, rumbling noise. “Sorry, baby girl. I’ll brush it for you later.”
“What?”
The sensation of his fingers seemed to linger on my scalp and made my skin tingle. Dumbfounded, I stared up at him. Usually when someone I didn’t know or didn’t trust touched me it felt like bugs were crawling on my skin. I have sensory issues, which is yet another one of the reasons my love life is barren. Hard to date a guy when his touch makes you flinch away. But this guy—this hot-ass potential psycho—touched me and it felt … good. How odd was that?
He withdrew his hand from my hair and I mourned the loss of his touch even as I tried to puzzle out my body’s odd reaction to him. We continued to stare at each other until my neck started to hurt from looking up at him. I rattled my handcuffed hands against the chair I was in. “How about you unlock me, and I’ll be more than happy to haul my ass out of here and take care of my hair myself.”
He shook his head and hesitated, an intense look of concentration coming over his face, then he reached out and ever so lightly ran his knuckles over my throat. Bliss. If his touch in my hair tingled, skin-to-skin contact with this man burned a path of arousal straight to my pussy. A soft moan escaped me as he continued to stroke my neck, now with his fingertips, and he let out what sounded almost like a sigh of relief, then groaned in response. I promised myself I wouldn’t look to see if he was aroused. I mean his crotch was right at my eye level. All I had to do was glance and … oh yeah. He was aroused. Holy moly, was he aroused. And so was I.
Very.
Damn, no wonder my few friends and sister were always going on and on about how much fun sex was. If it felt anything like the pleasure my nerves were singing with from him simply caressing my neck, I could see the appeal. His rough fingertips stroking over my throat felt indecently good, sending little bursts of sunlight through my blood. When he touched me, the rest of the world vanished, leaving me feeling like I was alone in the universe with this intoxicating man.
“Baby,” he said in a rumbling purr, “you have the softest skin.”
I looked away quickly, hating the way my face heated and his chuckle.
To my disappointment and relief, he stopped petting me. “With you blushing that pretty from me touching your neck, I can believe that you’re not Sarah.”
I snorted and looked up at him, much more comfortable without all that pussy-tingling heat building up as he touched me. “It’s true. Look at my chest, for Pete’s sake.”
“What?”
Curving my back, I thrust my chest out against the old bar t-shirt that I’d thrown on after my shift. The shirt was tight, and a faded navy blue, with a deep enough neckline to tempt men to throw money at my tits. Not exactly the classiest thing, but I would get an online accounting and investment job soon enough and I’d never have to wear anything low-cut again. Would be nice to meet guys who look at my eyes before my boobs. Speaking of guys looking at my chest ... Mystery man in his patch-covered black leather vest and sinful worn blue jeans that hugged his thick legs and huge dick—yes, huge—well, he was currently staring at my breasts like he wanted to lick them. My hormones were all for that but my mind wasn’t.
“I don’t have implants; Sarah does. Think about it. If you’ve met her, you’ve noticed her tits. Or, if like the rest of the adult male population in the world, you’ve seen her Playboy spread when she won Pole Dancer of the Year in Vegas, you would notice that I’m not carrying around gravity-defying boobs attached to my body.” Okay, I was actually pretty jealous that she could wear shirts without a bra, but I was on a roll.
He blinked at my chest and his jaw clenched. When he reached out to touch my breast I tried to flinch away, but he crouched down again and caught my gaze. I found myself staring at him, mesmerized by the perfection of his rough, male beauty. Back at the club I’d thought he was hot, but now I realized that he was just plain devastating. So grown-man sexy it made my pussy soaking wet.
He made a soothing sound that had me almost sighing in pleasure. “I’m not gonna hurt you. You’re as skittish as a virgin.”
I lifted my chin and laughed, praying he didn’t see the way my ears were burning. “Like a virgin. As if.”
His eyelids shuttered half shut and a wave of warmth came off his body and caressed mine. “A virgin?”
“I said as if, as in I’m not. I do it all the time. I am totally not a virgin.” I internally winced at how dumb that sounded, but I wasn’t going to admit to this sex god that I was about as inexperienced sexually as a person could get.
“You’re killing me, baby.” He stared at me, then slowly leaned closer and rubbed his lips against my neck while taking an audible breath. “Nice.”
“What’s nice?” I squeaked out.
“All this innocent beauty is for me and only me.” He licked at the line of my throat, then placed soft, wet kisses just beneath the edge of my jaw line, turning me on something fierce.
Never, ever had I been this aroused and it was all because of a stranger, a hot stranger, a hot, hung stranger, rubbing his lips on my throat. Yeah, I’d felt the electricity between us at the club, but I had no idea it would be this intense. I was a slave to my hormones, trying to resist the urge to wiggle beneath his wonderful mouth. I swear I was within shouting distance of having an orgasm, something of a miracle because it took me forever to get off on my own. I just hadn’t found a man that my body seemed to want yet—well, until now—and these were not the ideal circumstances.
Holy crap, did I want this guy. With his lips against my pulse, then a hint of a wet, velvety tongue licking over me, I didn’t even give a shit that he’d kidnapped me. For whatever reason, I just knew he wouldn’t hurt me. My hormones had officially made me a dumbs.
“You smell so good.” He took a deep breath and let it out with a groan.
“Name,” I whispered. “I need to know your name.”
“Smoke,” he said in a low voice, and I sighed at how damn good his teeth felt gently scraping over my throat.
“Smoke, I like that. My name’s Swan.”
He laughed, a hot puff of air against my sensitive skin. “I know.”
Moving slowly, he began to kiss up my throat to my lips and I really, really wanted to kiss him. While his mouth was busy seducing me, he began to stroke my waist with his big hands, my skin warming until I burned for him. I swore I could almost smell my arousal in the air and when his lips brushed mine I moaned in a most wanton manner. Smoke grinned and rubbed his mouth over my lips, gentling me, somehow calming me despite the fact that the sexiest guy in the world was kissing me in the middle of a dingy basement. I’d never had a man turn me on like that and I was almost helpless against him, unable to think past the way he was making me feel.
“Knew you were meant for me,” he whispered against my skin. “Knew it the second I saw you that it would be amazing between us. But I had no idea how fucking good you would feel, how well you’d respond for me.” His breath came out in a low rush. “Unfortunately, this is not the time or the place, but there is no fucking way I’m not getting a taste.”
When his tongue brushed over my lips I opened for him and he grasped my breasts with both hands then squeezed gently. I moaned into his mouth and arched into his touch. It almost felt like he was touching my needy pussy when he handled my breasts like that.
“Baby,” he groaned. “You taste like sugar. Can’t wait to have your pussy melting on my tongue.”
He blinked at me and I could have sworn he was trying not to smile. Standing, he looked down at me and ran his fingers through my hair, or tried to. It was a little tangled from being shoved up under a hood. When I winced he made a low, rumbling noise. “Sorry, baby girl. I’ll brush it for you later.”
“What?”
The sensation of his fingers seemed to linger on my scalp and made my skin tingle. Dumbfounded, I stared up at him. Usually when someone I didn’t know or didn’t trust touched me it felt like bugs were crawling on my skin. I have sensory issues, which is yet another one of the reasons my love life is barren. Hard to date a guy when his touch makes you flinch away. But this guy—this hot-ass potential psycho—touched me and it felt … good. How odd was that?
He withdrew his hand from my hair and I mourned the loss of his touch even as I tried to puzzle out my body’s odd reaction to him. We continued to stare at each other until my neck started to hurt from looking up at him. I rattled my handcuffed hands against the chair I was in. “How about you unlock me, and I’ll be more than happy to haul my ass out of here and take care of my hair myself.”
He shook his head and hesitated, an intense look of concentration coming over his face, then he reached out and ever so lightly ran his knuckles over my throat. Bliss. If his touch in my hair tingled, skin-to-skin contact with this man burned a path of arousal straight to my pussy. A soft moan escaped me as he continued to stroke my neck, now with his fingertips, and he let out what sounded almost like a sigh of relief, then groaned in response. I promised myself I wouldn’t look to see if he was aroused. I mean his crotch was right at my eye level. All I had to do was glance and … oh yeah. He was aroused. Holy moly, was he aroused. And so was I.
Very.
Damn, no wonder my few friends and sister were always going on and on about how much fun sex was. If it felt anything like the pleasure my nerves were singing with from him simply caressing my neck, I could see the appeal. His rough fingertips stroking over my throat felt indecently good, sending little bursts of sunlight through my blood. When he touched me, the rest of the world vanished, leaving me feeling like I was alone in the universe with this intoxicating man.
“Baby,” he said in a rumbling purr, “you have the softest skin.”
I looked away quickly, hating the way my face heated and his chuckle.
To my disappointment and relief, he stopped petting me. “With you blushing that pretty from me touching your neck, I can believe that you’re not Sarah.”
I snorted and looked up at him, much more comfortable without all that pussy-tingling heat building up as he touched me. “It’s true. Look at my chest, for Pete’s sake.”
“What?”
Curving my back, I thrust my chest out against the old bar t-shirt that I’d thrown on after my shift. The shirt was tight, and a faded navy blue, with a deep enough neckline to tempt men to throw money at my tits. Not exactly the classiest thing, but I would get an online accounting and investment job soon enough and I’d never have to wear anything low-cut again. Would be nice to meet guys who look at my eyes before my boobs. Speaking of guys looking at my chest ... Mystery man in his patch-covered black leather vest and sinful worn blue jeans that hugged his thick legs and huge dick—yes, huge—well, he was currently staring at my breasts like he wanted to lick them. My hormones were all for that but my mind wasn’t.
“I don’t have implants; Sarah does. Think about it. If you’ve met her, you’ve noticed her tits. Or, if like the rest of the adult male population in the world, you’ve seen her Playboy spread when she won Pole Dancer of the Year in Vegas, you would notice that I’m not carrying around gravity-defying boobs attached to my body.” Okay, I was actually pretty jealous that she could wear shirts without a bra, but I was on a roll.
He blinked at my chest and his jaw clenched. When he reached out to touch my breast I tried to flinch away, but he crouched down again and caught my gaze. I found myself staring at him, mesmerized by the perfection of his rough, male beauty. Back at the club I’d thought he was hot, but now I realized that he was just plain devastating. So grown-man sexy it made my pussy soaking wet.
He made a soothing sound that had me almost sighing in pleasure. “I’m not gonna hurt you. You’re as skittish as a virgin.”
I lifted my chin and laughed, praying he didn’t see the way my ears were burning. “Like a virgin. As if.”
His eyelids shuttered half shut and a wave of warmth came off his body and caressed mine. “A virgin?”
“I said as if, as in I’m not. I do it all the time. I am totally not a virgin.” I internally winced at how dumb that sounded, but I wasn’t going to admit to this sex god that I was about as inexperienced sexually as a person could get.
“You’re killing me, baby.” He stared at me, then slowly leaned closer and rubbed his lips against my neck while taking an audible breath. “Nice.”
“What’s nice?” I squeaked out.
“All this innocent beauty is for me and only me.” He licked at the line of my throat, then placed soft, wet kisses just beneath the edge of my jaw line, turning me on something fierce.
Never, ever had I been this aroused and it was all because of a stranger, a hot stranger, a hot, hung stranger, rubbing his lips on my throat. Yeah, I’d felt the electricity between us at the club, but I had no idea it would be this intense. I was a slave to my hormones, trying to resist the urge to wiggle beneath his wonderful mouth. I swear I was within shouting distance of having an orgasm, something of a miracle because it took me forever to get off on my own. I just hadn’t found a man that my body seemed to want yet—well, until now—and these were not the ideal circumstances.
Holy crap, did I want this guy. With his lips against my pulse, then a hint of a wet, velvety tongue licking over me, I didn’t even give a shit that he’d kidnapped me. For whatever reason, I just knew he wouldn’t hurt me. My hormones had officially made me a dumbs.
“You smell so good.” He took a deep breath and let it out with a groan.
“Name,” I whispered. “I need to know your name.”
“Smoke,” he said in a low voice, and I sighed at how damn good his teeth felt gently scraping over my throat.
“Smoke, I like that. My name’s Swan.”
He laughed, a hot puff of air against my sensitive skin. “I know.”
Moving slowly, he began to kiss up my throat to my lips and I really, really wanted to kiss him. While his mouth was busy seducing me, he began to stroke my waist with his big hands, my skin warming until I burned for him. I swore I could almost smell my arousal in the air and when his lips brushed mine I moaned in a most wanton manner. Smoke grinned and rubbed his mouth over my lips, gentling me, somehow calming me despite the fact that the sexiest guy in the world was kissing me in the middle of a dingy basement. I’d never had a man turn me on like that and I was almost helpless against him, unable to think past the way he was making me feel.
“Knew you were meant for me,” he whispered against my skin. “Knew it the second I saw you that it would be amazing between us. But I had no idea how fucking good you would feel, how well you’d respond for me.” His breath came out in a low rush. “Unfortunately, this is not the time or the place, but there is no fucking way I’m not getting a taste.”
When his tongue brushed over my lips I opened for him and he grasped my breasts with both hands then squeezed gently. I moaned into his mouth and arched into his touch. It almost felt like he was touching my needy pussy when he handled my breasts like that.
“Baby,” he groaned. “You taste like sugar. Can’t wait to have your pussy melting on my tongue.”
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With over thirty published books, Ann is Queen of the Castle to her wonderful husband and three sons in the mountains of West Virginia. In her past lives she's been an Import Broker, a Communications Specialist, a US Navy Civilian Contractor, a Bartender/Waitress, and an actor at the Michigan Renaissance Festival. She also spent a summer touring with the Grateful Dead-though she will deny to her children that it ever happened.
From a young age she's been fascinated by myths and fairytales, and the romance that often was the center of the story. As Ann grew older and her hormones kicked in, she discovered trashy romance novels. Great at first, but she soon grew tired of the endless stories with a big wonderful emotional buildup to really short and crappy sex. Never a big fan of purple prose, throbbing spears of fleshy pleasure and wet honey pots make her giggle, she sought out books that gave the sex scenes in the story just as much detail and plot as everything else-without using cringe worthy euphemisms. This led her to the wonderful world of Erotic Romance, and she's never looked back.
Now Ann spends her days trying to tune out cartoons playing in the background to get into her 'sexy space' and has accepted that her Muse has a severe case of ADD.
Ann loves to talk with her fans, as long as they realize she's weird and that sarcasm doesn't translate well via text.
From a young age she's been fascinated by myths and fairytales, and the romance that often was the center of the story. As Ann grew older and her hormones kicked in, she discovered trashy romance novels. Great at first, but she soon grew tired of the endless stories with a big wonderful emotional buildup to really short and crappy sex. Never a big fan of purple prose, throbbing spears of fleshy pleasure and wet honey pots make her giggle, she sought out books that gave the sex scenes in the story just as much detail and plot as everything else-without using cringe worthy euphemisms. This led her to the wonderful world of Erotic Romance, and she's never looked back.
Now Ann spends her days trying to tune out cartoons playing in the background to get into her 'sexy space' and has accepted that her Muse has a severe case of ADD.
Ann loves to talk with her fans, as long as they realize she's weird and that sarcasm doesn't translate well via text.
WEBSITE: http://www.annmayburn.com
FACEBOOK: https://www.facebook.com/ann.
TWITTER: https://twitter.com/
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FACEBOOK: https://www.facebook.com/ann.
TWITTER: https://twitter.com/
GOODREADS: https://www.goodreads.com/
PINTEREST: http://www.pinterest.com/
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