Excerpt of SnowBound, an erotic paranormal thriller, on Molten Monday. Adult content 18+
"So what you're telling me is that I may be staying in a room five doors down from the man who is torturing my sister?" Tears welled in his eyes. He suddenly regretted this mission of his. He wasn't cut out for the nitty-gritty of crime stopping. He fisted his hands against the table. "How do you do it? How do you maintain your control?"
"By picking up gorgeous men in bars who help me remember that life isn't so horrible." She pushed away her glass. "Do you need to be reminded, Landon?"
"It's not that simple." He doubted anything in life would make sense again.
"Trust me. I'm an expert at compartmentalizing as you noted earlier." She stood and walked toward him. "We'll get them this time, but not tonight."
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "Waiting—"
"Is the biggest part of my job—waiting, watching, putting the pieces together." She combed her fingers through his hair. "What did you see that you're not telling me?"
"I didn't think you believed in all that." He dipped his head to allow her fingers easier access to his neck. Ripples of desire danced through his veins with her featherlike caress over his skin.
"I meant as in see...with your eyes..." she laughed against the top of his head. "Were they outside or something?"
Before the fame, only his sister and mother had accepted his gifts. He'd spent years channeling them into an acceptable career like psychology, denying a part of himself that demanded attention.
He moved away from her touch, not feeling up to being used tonight.
He regretted this plan of his. Being this close to Haley did strange things to him. Everything felt amplified by a thousand percent. He hadn't planned on feeling anything for her despite the images that had been dancing in his head for years. But her energy zapped off the charts. Combined with the darkness he'd felt when walking down the hall and the tension from driving in poor road conditions, he needed space and more wine.
She grabbed a bottle of her own and walked to the edge of the lopsided king-sized bed sitting slightly off-center of the rundown room. Flicking on the television, she reclined back on the pillows and propped the wine bottle against her knee.
Silent except for the rambling of a re-run of Modern Family, the room echoed with residual energy that kept him on edge. She wasn't the only one who sometimes needed to blot out the noise of career and ghosts.
He sipped his wine and looked out the window at the piles of snow that had already covered most of the cars in the parking lot. Under different circumstances, he would appreciate the serenity of being surrounded by white.
He chose the people who worked with him very carefully because he became so affected by someone's energy. When not working, he spent his time alone at his small cabin in Lake George, New York, in virtual seclusion to stop the constant chatter he endured in the city or while traveling.
"She's a fighter," Haley said. "She talked to me about Stanford, about being a doctor one day, said her older brother inspired her. I promised her that she'd still get to do that and meant it."
He swallowed the lump of emotion stuck in his throat before looking at her. "Are you lying to me to make me feel better?"
"Would I do such a thing?" She smiled before lifting the bottle of wine to her lips.
Despite his mood, he returned her smile. "You have hope, that's why you keep doing what you do, isn't it? You always believe you'll put the bad guys away."
"I do," she reminded him. "It may take a lot longer than I'd like, and I may lose a battle or two along the way, but I always get my man. If I'm hunting him, he's as good as caught."
He nodded, having done his research about her reputation as relentless and effective. "Weren't you a little scared when you were in that warehouse stripped of your weapons, resources, and identity? When your team didn't arrive immediately, did you ever doubt?"
"No, I never doubted." She met his gaze. "I don't now either. Look how lucky we are...this man just fell into our laps while we were sitting at a random cafe in the middle of the mountains. Now he's five doors down. Do you know how cagey he is? He fell off the grid after St. Louis. Fate is on our side, Landon."
"Fate? That doesn't sound too scientific." He arched an eyebrow.
She averted her focus to the television, smile slipping, before she moved the wine bottle to the bedside table. "I don't like thinking of Brian being around...worried about me or whatever. I don't like that."
"He's only around some of the time, he likes looking out for you. It's what he does. He loves you and that doesn't die." He joined her on the bed and kicked off his shoes. "I'm not a conman. More times than not I've wished I could be normal. It's hard to hear these messages from the other side, to see these visions, and not always know what they mean or who they're meant for. If I had to choose, I'd be a simple psychologist living in a Denver suburb raising my own family and maybe playing on a recreational football league with a bunch of guys where we'd go out for beer afterward and talk shit."
She faced him, sitting cross-legged on the mattress. "Why can't you do those things anyway?"
"Because the power has gotten stronger and I find it hard to be..." he shook his head, unsure why he was baring his soul. "Never mind."
"I want to know." She stared at him, gaze slipping across his face with a fascination that hadn't previously been there.
"I thought you didn't want to know my story."
"That's when I thought you were my disposable plaything for the night." She dropped her hand to his thigh, her smile gentle. "Now this is night two...I usually kick my men out before breakfast."
"Unless they kidnap you." He dropped his head back against the headboard and snagged her hand. "Your men? Playthings? Fuck toys? You have an interesting vocabulary, Special Agent Masters."
"Yeah, well, I cut to the chase." She looked at their joined fingers. "So why can't you do those things you label as normal?"
"Chatter. People come with various degrees of energy and noise...I hear them all the time. I can't ignore it anymore. You, for instance, have a magnetic almost hypnotic energy that I haven't experienced with anyone before. It's...unusual. Somewhat dark, but there's something else there, too." He squeezed her hand. "You really don't want to hear about this."
"I do." She looked him in the eye. "You still haven't answered my question."
He grinned. "I may have the fame and a lucrative career as a psychic, but that doesn't mean people are comfortable just being ordinary around me. Most people think I'm reading them or seeing things about their future."
"You seem to have a lot of friends...look at how this plan of yours worked out. People are looking out for you."
"Clients." He shrugged. "I call them friends, and they act like it, couldn't be nicer people, but they're clients. And Lily? She's a fan and my assistant. Great person, loyal to a fault."
"But it's not the same as being one of the guys playing football in the park and going out for beers and talking shit?" The understanding in her eyes blew his mind.
"I'm not complaining—"
"It's okay if you are. I'm not judging."
"You're not, are you?" He rubbed his thumb over her cheekbone. "Why aren't you? I'm sorry about last night. We got a little rough."
"If I minded so terribly, we never would have left Dillon."
He sighed, realizing that she'd made a choice to stay with him when she'd had every right to tell him to go to hell.
He twisted a finger around a strand of hair and pulled her close. "You know...with this snow piling up outside...we could be trapped here for awhile."
"I wonder how we should pass the time." She leaned over him, hesitated a moment, met his gaze, and flicked her tongue over his lips.
He opened his mouth and closed his eyes, enjoying the feel of her hair skimming his face and her body leaning over his. Her tongue darted against his, creating havoc with his already fried nerves.
She tugged his sweater up his chest and over his shoulders, breaking their kiss only long enough to toss the offending clothing aside. Straddling his waist, she removed her gun from where she'd tucked it in the back of her jeans, smiled, and set it on the bedside table. Bending, she kissed the center of his chest before sliding her hands over his shoulders like someone admiring a piece of sculpture.
"Your turn," she whispered, sliding her hands down his arm.
"What do you mean?"
She closed the metal of the handcuff over his wrist, winked, and held his hand up to the headboard. "I think it's only fair."
He willingly lifted his other hand, anxious to see what she would do with him. He usually preferred being the one doing the restraining, but his cock already throbbed at the idea of her taking charge.
She kissed his neck, bit him, slid her fingers over the tattoos on his shoulders, licked his chest, and cupped the bulge nearly breaking the zipper on his jeans. Sliding lower, she pushed his pants down his legs, and yanked his underwear off with agonizing slowness.
She moved her tongue up the inside of his right thigh before moving to his left, deliberately tormenting him while his cock lifted high, desperate for attention. She cupped his balls, nipped against his hipbone, hair slid over the tip of his penis.
Pulling away from his body, she stood, gaze locked on his cock, stripped, bit her lower lip, and grabbed the bottle of wine from where she'd left it. She leaned over him, pressed the bottle to his lips, and grinned.
"Want a taste?" She poured the wine into his mouth before smashing her lips over his, both kissing and drinking from him.
"Mmm...I want to taste you."
"You'll need to wait." She set the wine aside, looked at him, and squeezed her tits together. "Is this what you want?"
He nodded, salivating at the idea of sucking on her. Her hands moved down her sides and slid between her legs. He watched, fixated while her fingers slid over her clit and dipped lower to her cunt.
"Haley, you're driving me crazy."
"Do you wish you were touching me?" She lifted one of her legs to the edge of the bed, giving him a good view of her fingers sliding inside her folds.
She grinned, kept one hand working her pussy while the other squeezed a breast, thumb teasing her nipple.
He watched, fascinated as she stood just out of reach, naked and delectable, giving him a show while he clenched his fists in frustration and his cock ached to be satisfied. Pre-cum dripped onto his lower abdomen.
She tilted her head back, long hair sliding down, neck bare, tit squished in her palm, and rubbed herself into orgasm. He watched the muscles of her cunt flex around her fingers and bit his lower lip until it bled.
Abruptly, she turned her ass to him, bent over, and unsnapped the strap from her duffel bag. Holding it between her hands, she stretched it out as if testing its strength.
"Turn over," she demanded. "You've been very bad."
"Now." She smacked his thigh with the strap.
He struggled to turn, wrists overlapping in the handcuffs, top of his head pressed against the headboard. She smacked his ass. Hard. He gasped, the force jolting him tighter against the wooden frame. One of her hands reached between his legs and squeezed his balls just as another strike smacked his ass.
"That's for holding a gun against me," she said before sliding her hand over his shaft from behind.
She bit his back, swatted his ass, and moved her hand over his cock.
"Do not come," she instructed, her hot breath moist on his shoulder blades. "I want that for myself. Do. Not. Come."
He winced, the pain of obeying almost too much to bear. The pressure in his cock throbbed for release. He squeezed his eyes closed as another blow came, this time to the back of his thighs.
She squeezed his balls again, leaving his penis to throb alone.
"Haley, my God. Please."
"You like being punished, don't you?" She moved both hands over his butt. "Turn over."
He returned to his back, sweat rolling down his face from the effort of controlling his release.
She knelt between his thighs and licked his balls before holding her tits together and teasing them over his dick. Meeting his gaze, she smiled before sliding her tongue around the tip of his cock. Her mouth closed over him, sucking, cherishing. He couldn't stop himself anymore. He came with a shout, hips thrusting up until the tip of his penis hit the back of her throat. She moaned and swallowed all of him, her hands reaching beneath him to hold him tight against her face.
The tremor ripped through his entire body, bringing him off of the bed, legs twisting against the sheets, restraints snapping the old wood frame headboard with a loud crack.
"Fuck, we broke the bed," he muttered, looking at the wooden slat that fell against the pillow.
She pulled her mouth from his cock and crawled over him like a predatory cat. Nipples trailed along his chest, blue eyes flowed with need. When they were eye-to-eye, she reached over for the bottle of wine and took a long drink before pouring some into his mouth.
In a surprise move, she undid his restraints and smiled. "I can't stand not being touched by you."
"Oh, thank God." With the shackles still dangling from his left wrist, he rolled her onto her back in one flip and ravaged her mouth with his tongue.
When she moaned her approval at his roughness, he wrapped his hand in her hair and pulled. Rarely had he found a woman who could give it as well as she received it and, damn that thrilled him.
He pinched her breasts before cupping them in his hands and squeezing them as she had done when tormenting him, never breaking their kiss. The more he tasted, the more he wanted.
Cock already hard again, he sucked on her lower lip, met her gaze, and grinned before standing abruptly. He raked his gaze over her naked body, feeling gigantic standing over her small frame and amazed that she'd had the power to make him lose all control. Again and again.
He flipped her over, spread her legs with his thigh, and rammed his cock deep inside her. Seeing the discarded strap, he held her firm with one hand, fucked her hard from behind, and smacked her ass with the belt.
She shouted, hands clenching the sheets at her side, head rolling back.
He dropped the strap, grabbed her hips with both hands, and ground his hips into hers as hard and fast as he could go. Her pussy was so hot, so wet. With his second orgasm, he collapsed on top of her.
They lay there panting, both sweaty and unable to move.
"Glad the room's on your credit card and not mine," she whispered against the sheet. "We're going to destroy this place if we're snowed in long enough."
He laughed against her hair and dragged his hand beneath her to cup her breast. "Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow..."
Keep reading SnowBound now--
caution: some sections contain dubious consent.