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Reviews

“I fell in love with Lacey Alexander's work when I read her 2007 release, Voyeur, and I love her even more after reading Seven Nights of Sin. This book is fantastic. Her characters are immensely likeable and intelligent, and the sex is some of the hottest I've ever read. But it goes way beyond burning-up-the-pages-hot sex. Her characters come alive with just the right mix of smoldering passion and a satisfying touch of emotional vulnerability. When they connect, you feel it from your head to your toes and everywhere in between. Now that's good romance. I’m drooling in anticipation of her next book.” ~ Lindy, Two Lips Reviews, 5 LIPS/Recommended Read

“Yowza! This book is so hot, I’m surprised the ink doesn’t melt right off the pages. Of course, that should come as no surprise to … fans of this talented author. The sex is downright dirty and wonderfully wild. Ms. Alexander certainly knows how to push her readers’ sensual buttons while weaving an poignant story of love.” ~Jennifer Ray, CK2S Kwips and Kritiques, 5 KLOVERS

“Feverish, impetuous, provoking, electrifying, passionate and intoxicating from one chapter to the next!” ~Dee, Night Owl Reviews, 5 HEARTS, REVIEWER TOP PICK

“Lacey Alexander's books bring out the good little bad girl in all of us. Unforgettable in an ‘oh, yeah, do that again please’ sort of way.” ~Michelle Buonfiglio, myLifetime.com

“Thoroughly tantalizing, with magnetic characters, a sizzling plot and raw sensuality, this book will have you fanning yourself long after the last page!” ~Bella March, Romantic Times, 4 STARS

“Orgasmically spellbinding! Lacey Alexander is the goddess of erotica and this is my favorite book yet! Absolutely delicious … the most erotic scenes I've ever read!” ~Amanda, Manic Readers, 5 STARS

“Well crafted, steamy, and creative. Sit down, kick back and enjoy the ride!” ~Sarah Silversmith, The Romance Readers Connection

“This sensually erotic book had me panting for breath. The emotions are … raw and vivid. Full of passion and heart.” ~Krista, Coffee Time Romance, 4 CUPS

Excerpt

Warning: This excerpt may feature sexually explicit material not appropriate for young readers. By reading any further, you are stating that you are at least 18 years of age.
If you are under the age of 18, it is necessary to stop reading here.

A SELECTED EXCERPT

All around them, the mixed mainstream-and-gothic crowd moved to the music and without thought or decision, Brenna found her hips beginning to sway back and forth, as well. She kept her eye on the blond singer, watching her seduce fans with her heavily outlined eyes and the way she thrust her breasts forward or swung her hair dramatically over one shoulder.

“What does the crowd tell you about this band?” Damon asked near her ear. But his voice came a little lower now, raspier. His breath on her ear made her tingle below.

She shifted her focus from the lead singer to the people around her, trying to think. But it was difficult because the room was still too full, keeping her close to Damon, and now that she was moving with the music, she was also moving slightly against him.

On one side of her stood a young couple who looked like they could live next door to her – average, middle-class – dancing wildly. On the other she found a girl with bright pink hair, shrouded in black from head to toe. And she knew the answer.

Only this time, instead of turning to face Damon, she merely leaned back, resting her head on his shoulder to speak up into his ear. “A cult following that’s gone mainstream. Crossover appeal.”

Again he said, “Very good,” but also again, his voice went lower, his eyes shaded as he peered down at her, and it would have been damn easy to kiss him because their faces, mouths, were so dangerously close.

So Brenna promptly lifted her head back up, watched the band. She didn’t want to talk anymore – talking, even about business, seemed perilous at the moment. She just wanted to be quiet now, listen to the music, soak up the atmosphere. And maybe dance the alcohol out of her system before she did something stupid.

Still observing the crowd, though, her gaze stuck on two girls kissing, passionately making out near the stage. Both were young, pretty, not particularly gothic, and, if she had to guess, not really lesbians. In fact, she suspected the two good-looking guys standing by watching lustfully were their boyfriends.

Eyes closed, the girls’ tongues met in languorous abandon as their hands ran caressingly over each other’s body. Brenna didn’t want to keep watching, but something about the sight hypnotized her. And despite her shock, she couldn’t help feeling a little excited by the blatant sexuality of the act. Just like those stupid moving billboards – she didn’t want to be aroused by it, but to her astonishment, she was.

So much softness. So much sex.

Just out there.

And somehow, that was the point of it.

Would the two girls be taking such delight in one another if they were alone? Or was it about doing it in front of their boyfriends and in public? Brenna didn’t know for sure, but she felt – to the marrow of her bones – that behaving so outrageously without going behind closed doors was a big ingredient in their desire.

A quick glance revealed that Damon had followed her eyes and noticed the two girls, as well.

Old Brenna was embarrassed. To be caught watching something like that. And by Damon of all people. She instantly wondered if he could see how much it aroused her – her pussy felt positively huge beneath her skirt, as if, at this moment, it was the biggest part of her.

But new Brenna simply asked him, “Does that turn you on?”

God, what was she doing? After all, she’d decided it was safer not to talk anymore. Yet she couldn’t help being curious. Wanting to know what he felt, yearning to understand the way he thought about things. Sexual things.

“Yeah,” he said simply. Blunt about it, just like during their conversation last night.

She bit her lip, her breasts seeming to swell within the cups of her bra. He was aroused, too – right now, right here, next to her.

Did that mean he was hard? She suffered the urge to find out, to reach out and press her hand to the front of his pants. “Tell me why,” she murmured instead.

He watched the girls a moment more, drawing Brenna’s gaze back to them, as well – and then finally turned to look her squarely in the eye. “Two of everything. Two sets of soft female lips. Two pairs of round breasts. All those curves … moving together.”

Ah. Maybe that made sense. And maybe that explained why she was excited, too. Her gaze stayed locked on his, but she couldn’t summon an answer, so he went on.

“I like women who are free enough to follow their urges, lose their inhibitions.”

Now she found her voice, to say, “I’m not sure they have inhibitions,” and they both laughed, but it faded quickly because the mood taking over the club was pervasive.

To Brenna’s left, the couple she’d noticed dancing before were now kissing, as well. Their bodies moved rhythmically to the music, their mouths grinding together as sensually as their pelvises. And a goth guy now nibbled on the neck of the pink-haired girl on Brenna’s right. The girl smiled, letting her tongue slide slowly across her upper lip. It was as if sex was filling the room, floating in the very air, almost as if it were somehow being pumped into the building the same way casinos were rumored to pump extra oxygen into the gaming areas. Brenna’s skin prickled, soft but powerful sensations echoing through her body, making her want to get lost in it all.

But her attention was drawn back to the stage when Blush broke into a new song with a steamy, sexy beat. Unfamiliar with it, she assumed it was an original. And like the last song – like many of their songs, it seemed – it was about sex.

Through a pumping chorus, the band repeated the words “best hands” again and again, leaving Brenna to conclude it must be the title. The blonde sang about the hands easing their way across her skin, about fingers dipping into private places, and eventually about the hands reaching, reaching, for ecstasy. The whole crowd soon focused on the girl, who began to move against the mike as she had before.

Brenna realized that not only was she watching the singer ease the microphone between her legs, thrusting gently with the beat of the song, but she was watching it with Damon. They were witnessing it together, experiencing it together. In fact, they were experiencing it with every person in the room. More blatant sex on display.

Yet as time passed, she grew less repulsed than she’d been last night – and more fascinated.

The whole club seemed to pulsate with the beat now, and Brenna continued moving her hips back and forth, surrendering herself to the intoxicating strains.

She should have been alarmed when she felt Damon’s hands mold to her hips, but she wasn’t.

It was too incredible to be touched by him, even just in that small way, pleasure spreading rapidly through her.

And then, then – oh yes! – he was pressing into her from behind, enough for her to realize he was going hard against her ass. It felt like a dream, a fantasy, but it was shockingly real.

Low in her ear, he rasped, “Dance with me, Brenna. Move with me.”

It would have been smart to step away, or to tell him to remember they were professionals here, doing a job. That this was a mistake.

But she simply couldn’t. More than the just song was intoxicating her. More than the alcohol she’d consumed. She was drunk on Damon Andros and she had been for the last twenty-four hours. And she’d tried to play this smart, be bigger than her lust – but now it was consuming her.

So she moved with him, drank in the heat of his body as he leaned closer, felt the power of his hot erection against her rear.

Had anything in her life ever felt better?

She didn’t think so.

She didn’t think any physical sensation had ever pulled her in so quick, so deep, leaving her helpless to fight it.

Together they swayed as the girl on the stage purred the provocative lyrics that added fuel to their fire. Brenna never looked at him after that, simply kept her eyes straight ahead, feeling it all, trying to survive it, trying to believe it, and wondering what would happen now.

But she knew what would happen, of course. The song would end. The song would end and they’d stop moving together and they’d pretend things were normal again, that he hadn’t touched her, that she hadn’t experienced the deep, raw pleasure of his stiffened cock against her ass.

And it was just as she drew that conclusion … that something else entirely took place.

The warm masculine hand curving over her right hip eased upward, over the gauzy fabric covering her stomach and higher, higher, coming to rest beneath her breast, his thumb arcing up onto the rounded flesh while his fingers played about the bottom of her bra. The intense delight combined with intense need to make her sway more sensually, her breath turning labored, her cunt throbbing madly.

Which is when his other hand snaked downward onto her thigh – and up under her skirt. That quick, that smooth. His fingertips eased between her legs, caressing the silk there.

Her breath hitched and she involuntarily moved in a whole new way, beginning to undulate, like she was having sex. She met his fingers in front and pressed her ass to his hard-on in back. His right arm now circled her waist to keep her steady – he must have realized he was making her weak, her whole body nearly convulsing from the hot strokes his fingers delivered.

Did anyone around them see what was going on, the way he was touching her? Surely not – the crowd remained tight, the spaces between bodies mostly dark, private even while in public.

She’d long since ceased paying attention to the song, but glanced up at the stage in time to catch the last line: The best hands are mine. It was an end-of-song twist – the lyricist had no lover, but was touching herself.

Damon kissed Brenna’s neck now, sending fresh spirals of pleasure all through her. Oh God. Oh God.

And when the song ended, the crowd cheered – and Damon leaned near her ear to rasp the words, “Come with me.”

She turned to find that meeting his gaze now was different – even more paralyzing. Because his hands were on her. Because he wanted her as much as she wanted him. And Kelly’s words came back to her. Instant lover. Just add lust and stir. She’d never dreamed it could really happen.

Damon’s hand closed firm around her smaller one as he pulled her through the crowd. She didn’t see the people they passed, didn’t hear the next song begin – she could focus on nothing but him and the need that burned through her.

They broke away from the masses near the back of the club and he led her briskly down a low-lit hallway. He twisted the knob on an unmarked door, but it was locked. “Damn,” he muttered under his breath, then tried another across the hall. This one opened and he pulled her inside. Shut the door behind them. Flipped on a light switch to illuminate a dim bulb overhead.

They stood in a supply closet amid buckets and brooms and shelves filled with cleaning products. Her heartbeat pulsed everywhere as their gazes met, both hot and ready.

Damon lifted his hands to her face and kissed her, pushing his tongue warm and moist between her lips. Her mouth, her whole body, responded – she was on auto-pilot now, following urges, vaguely recalling when Damon had told her that turned him on. Pressing her palms to his chest, she curled her fingernails into his shirt as one heated kiss turned into another.

Yet then his mouth dropped to her neck and his hands to her skirt. Blush’s music made the whole closet vibrate, but the main thing Brenna could hear was her own labored breathing as Damon pushed his hands up under the leather to find her panties. One rip and her thong dropped, a whoosh of air cooling her pussy.

He breathed heavy now, too, and they both worked hurriedly at his belt and pants. Part of her couldn’t believe she was letting this happen, yet it was beyond her to stop.