Monday, February 17, 2014

The Third Book in the Scorching Noble Passions Series by Sabrina York Releases!

Fans of Sabrina York’s steamy Regency series have been eagerly awaiting the release of Dark Duke, the third book (following award winning Folly and Dark Fancy) in which Edward Wyeth, the Dark Duke of Moncrieff, finally meets his match in the form of a flame-haired Scottish spitfire. 

Noble Passions: Follow the decadent exploits of friends and enemies as they find love and passion in the glittering world of the Regency—and its dark underbelly. Each book is a stand-alone read.

If you’re new to the series, download Sabrina’s free teaser book at to read blurbs and excerpts for this popular series. Each book in the series is a stand-alone story.

Enter to win a signed print copy of Dark Fancy (Helena and James’ story—Book 2 in the Noble Passions Series) on Goodreads!

Dark Duke
Noble Passions, Book Three

Edward Wyeth, the Dark Duke of Moncrieff’s life has been turned on its end. His well-ordered home has been invaded. By destitute relatives. From Scotland. How on earth can he write Lord Hedon’s salacious novels with hellions battling in the garden and starting fires in the library? But with the onslaught has come a delicious diversion. His cousin’s companion, the surprisingly intriguing Kaitlin MacAllister. He is determined to seduce her. Using her desperate need for funds and her talents as an artist, he convinces her to draw naughty pictures for his naughtier books…and he draws her into his decadent web.

But Kaitlin has a secret. She’s fled Scotland—and a very determined betrothed. When Edward’s cousin is kidnapped and held in her stead, Kaitlin is honor bound to return to her homeland and rescue her—much to Edward’s chagrin.

Because suddenly he can’t bear the thought of Kaitlin marrying another man. He can’t bear the thought of losing her at all.

A Romantica® Regency historical erotic romance from Ellora’s Cave

By reading any further, you are stating that you are at least 18 years of age.
If you are under the age of 18, please exit this site.
An Excerpt From: DARK DUKE
Copyright © SABRINA YORK, 2014
All Rights Reserved, Ellora's Cave Publishing, Inc.
Edward skirted the mêlée in the garden and made his way to the far end of the estate, where there was nothing but flowers and trees and a placid little pond. Nothing to attract diminutive fiends bent on mischief. He would sit in the folly until his temperature returned to normal.
Perhaps until spring.
Dear God. He’d had no idea having the Wyeths of Perth take over his house would be such a nightmare. If he had suspected as much, he would have turned them away at the start. They would probably have crawled in under the door. Through the cracks in the flue. Vermin had a way of finding entrance.
But now. Now they were here.
He had to get rid of them.
Perhaps he could send them back to Scotland.
Scotland would revile him for it, but he had little use for rocky tors, lochs and sheep.
Then he thought of Violet and his heart lurched. It would crush her to be trundled back to what she referred to as “the bleak wilderness.” She was looking forward to a glittering season in London. She was seventeen. She needed a husband. A husband of quality. That might be difficult to find in the wilds of Scotland.
And Ned. Ned was twenty. He was just starting to find his way with the ton. He’d made some friends—decent fellows. He’d even been receiving invitations to game at White’s.
The two of them—the normal two—deserved better than being lumped in with the rest.
He whacked at a rosebud as he passed. It exploded into a flutter of petals. He refused to feel any sympathy.
He couldn’t send them packing.
Then what?
Hell. He was a duke of the realm. He had six houses spread throughout the empire. Why hadn’t he thought to purchase a spare in London?
That was brilliant.
He would. He’d buy them their own house. Move them all, lock stock and—well, maybe not the barrels, as the older boys did like to drink. He’d move them all into their own domicile.
With Aunt Hortense. Let her manage them.
His life would once again be orderly. He would be the master of his own abode. Free to pursue the life of a wealthy dilettante.
He rounded the bend with a satisfied smile on his face. The trickle of the fountain in the pond was a balm to his tormented soul. Birds sang in the trees. The sun—well, it almost shone. It was a beautiful day.
Soon, the world would be right again.
Soon, they would all be gone.
He skipped up the steps of the folly with a lightness of heart he hadn’t felt in ages. A book on the bench snagged his attention and his mood dipped, but only a bit. Someone had been here. But they were gone.
He picked it up and flipped through it and stilled.
Good God.
It was a sketch book.
The first page was an attempt at this scene. The flowers and trees, the pond and the little fountain. Not very good. But the second arrested his attention. It was a simple line drawing of Violet. And it was stunning. The artist had managed to depict her beauty, but also captured that glint in her eye, the particular quirk of her lips. Her soul.
The next sketch was one of Ned, showing a brash young man, standing insouciantly with his hands shoved into his pockets, whistling a silent tune. The next was of the twins—whatever their names were—dark heads together plotting some manner of mayhem.
It was so realistic Edward expected them to leap from the page and whack him with a cricket bat.
But it was the last sketch in the book that stole his breath. It was a portrait, in profile. His own face. But not an Edward he would ever recognize. This man was heroic, tragic, a solitary soldier. It was only a few lines drawn in charcoal, but it revealed so much about him. Things he didn’t want anyone to ever know.
It was horrifying. And remarkable.
“Your Grace.”
He snapped the book shut and spun around.
Of course. What’s her name. The girl. The owl. From last night.
“Oh, you found it.” She stepped into the folly and took the book from his hands. He did not know why he let it go.
“You left it here.” An accusation. Really? He hadn’t intended for it to come out like that.
She chuckled. “I had to go rescue Hamish. I was coming back.”
“What…why did you have to rescue Hamish?” This was her work? She saw him like that? And hell, she was a damn fine hand. How he would love to turn such talent to…darker purposes. What a pity she was such a prude. The kind of work he could offer her would make her rich—rich enough to quit serving as Violet’s companion.
But she would never do it. No decent woman would.
He must be crazed, truly crazed, to even think on it.
The gripping sketch of his wounded countenance lingered in his brain. If she could do that, if she could see through to his soul and bring it to life on paper—
“And then he got stuck. In the tree. So I had to rescue him.”
Lord. She’d been talking. He’d missed the entire explanation. No matter. The question had been purely rhetorical.
“How long have you been drawing?”
She winced, clutched the book to her breast. He recalled what fine breasts they were. “I… What?”
“How long have you been drawing? You’re quite good.”
“You looked at my book?” She squawked as though he’d just admitted to peering up her skirts. The lemony face returned. A beetled brow and pursed lips. It was, upon reflection, rather adorable.
“It was lying here.”
“You shouldn’t look at someone’s sketchbook.”
“You shouldn’t leave it where it can be found.” He crossed his arms over his chest and grinned at her. Damn, he loved her accent.
She sputtered. “I told you. Hamish and Tay—”
“Taylor. Hamish and Taylor were building a fort in a tree—”
“Yes. Yes. I know. You had to rescue him. Tell me, have they always been this much trouble?”
She blew out a breath. “You have no idea.”
They both laughed. It was a nice moment, because it seemed, for that brief flash of time, they were friends, bound in mutual misery.
And then he went and ruined it by letting his lust intrude. “So tell me, what did you think of that book?”
She tipped her head. “What book?”
“The one I gave you last night.”
She blinked several times, as though she had to try very hard to remember. “Oh. That book. I didn’t read it.”
He stepped closer. “Ah. You like to look at the pictures, then?” He knew the sort.
“Look at the… What? No, your Grace—”
“Edward.” He infused his voice with a low thrum.
Your Grace. I didn’t have a chance to open it.”
Why petulance curled within him, he had no clue. “What do you mean you didn’t have a chance to open it?” She was supposed to have read it. Or at least looked at the pictures. She was supposed to be gazing at him, right now, with a dewy look.
She brushed an invisible speck from her skirt. “There was…a distraction.”
Well hell. “What kind of distraction?”
Her lips pursed. The look she shot him was not dewy in the slightest.
Still, he wanted to kiss her.
He wasn’t sure why. She was certainly not the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. But her face had character and charm—especially when she smiled. Her figure was full—the way he liked them—but she didn’t show it off to its best effect. In fact, if he hadn’t known what lay beneath the thick layers of crinoline and bombazine, he would have been fooled. She was prickly as a hedgehog and smacked him down at every turn.
So why did he want to pull her into his arms and smother her mouth with his?
Perhaps because of all those things.
Then again, perhaps just because.
So he did.
He took the girl—whose name he could not remember, whose face he could not forget—into his arms and kissed her. It was a gentle buss, as kisses went, but extremely sublime. Because he’d surprised her.
Her lips were open, as though poised to speak. He took full advantage, sweeping in his tongue to dab at hers, nibbling and licking and tasting her sweet breath.
The prick at his side was not a surprise. He’d expected it.
He lifted his head and stared down into her eyes. Her expression was dazed and determined and perhaps a little dewy. “Not this time, darling,” he murmured. He took the knife from her hand and tossed it aside and then pulled her more fully against him.
And ah. She was soft. Sweet. Her breasts pressed against his chest. Her hips molded the cradle of his groin. Of course, he was the one doing the molding, but she didn’t fight him.
No. She sighed and tipped her head to the side so he could deepen the kiss. She tasted like ambrosia. A tantalizing flavor of cinnamon and woman and surrender. His ardor rose, and with it, his cock. He rubbed it against her belly.
She stiffened and tried to push away, muttering something into his mouth that sounded like “No.”
He changed his tack, running his lips down her cheek and along the line of her jaw to nestle in the crook of her neck. She shuddered. Some groan-like sound emanated from her throat. She clutched at his hair.
Thusly encouraged, he sucked at the tender skin of her neck. Nipped.
“Oh! Saints preserve us,” she whispered.
“The saints don’t care,” he responded, switching to the other side of her neck. He found a spot that delighted her even more and feasted there. In her distraction, she didn’t stop the palm skimming over her ribs to cup a breast.
He encased her. Ah. Exquisite. Full and round and pliable. He thumbed a nipple, testing its rigidity. She dipped as her knees gave way. He caught her. Swung her up in his arms and carried her to the bench.

From long experience, he knew better than to give a woman a moment to think. So as soon as he had her settled across his lap and firmly braced against the wall of the folly, he kissed her again. With one hand, he stroked her nipples while with the other, he slowly drew up her skirts.

About Sabrina York

Her Royal Hotness, Sabrina York is the award winning author of over 20 hot, humorous stories for smart and sexy readers. Her  titles range from sweet & sexy erotic romance to scorching BDSM. Connect with her on twitter @sabrina_york, on Facebook or on Pintrest. Check out Sabrina’s books and read an excerpt on Amazon or wherever e-books are sold. Visit her webpage at to check out her books, excerpts and contests. Free Teaser Book: And don’t forget to enter to win the royal tiara!


Enter to win a signed print copy of scorching Regency romance, Dark Fancy on Goodreads!

Like my Facebook Author Page
Follow me on Twitter @sabrina_york
Check out my Pintrest boards:
Check out my Barnes & Noble Author page:

Check out Sabrina York's other books on Ellora's Cave

Monday, February 10, 2014

Valentine's Day Gift Hop #BlogHop #ValentinesDay

Helloooooooooo everyone! 

Welcome to the Valentine's Day Gift Hop
hosted by Skye Warren!

Welcome to the Valentine's Day Gift Hop as we celebrate love, sex, and all things books!
The grand prize will be a Kindle Paperwhite and digital new adult romance basket. Every comment on every blog in the hop will count as an entry toward either of the grand prizes.

For Valentine's Day this year, I did a little something different for my readers and put together a Valentine's Day Gift List which won't break the bank. If you'd like to take a look at it, please click HERE. Now, since we're talking Valentine's Day, what flower most comes to mind for me are roses. That's why I thought I'd highlight my Navy erotic romance Surrounded by Roses. Below is a peek at this book as well as instructions on how you can enter to win an eBook copy of it! 

Erotic Teaser...

Trevor took in the sight of Emily’s body. Her frame was petite, and he liked the extra few pounds she always complained about not being able to get rid of. He could get lost in the landscape of her body. She had curves which put any other woman to shame. He loved his country and was willing to die for it, but he would take the valleys and peaks of Emily’s body over purple mountain majesty any day.
His cock twitched while he teased the taut peaks of her nipples. He always loved the way her body responded to him as if on cue. She made him feel powerful, as though he were the puppet master and could pull her strings into doing exactly what he wanted.

For your chance to win an eBook copy of, Surrounded by Roses,

please leave me a comment below (with your email address). 

Don't forget to stop by the other stops on this hop.

Just go HERE and scroll down the list! 

Tuesday, February 4, 2014

Loving That Feeling with Serena Fairfax

Purchase from BOOKSTRAND 
Purchase from AMAZON
Loving That Feeling
by Serena Fairfax

Seared by a bigamous love cheat, designer Deborah Tremaine backs off sex. But when wealthy Serbian Zoran Pavlovi, who wants to demolish an old London cinema she’s campaigning to save, crosses her path she’s up for a fling.

Zoran has clawed his way out of Serbia’s turbulent past but believes his background means he won’t find happiness simply because he can’t trust a woman to cherish him for who he is—a Serb. But he’s a hot-blooded Slav up for no-strings sex and Deborah sends him into overdrive.

Deborah’s finances are in meltdown when a customer goes bust. Zoran dangles a business deal based in Belgrade that she can’t refuse. She’s confident the job won’t compromise the campaign and decides that Zoran is the guy who can jump-start her love life.

They embark on a sizzling affair, but tension, erotically sexual and work related, skyrockets. Incidents trigger the revelation of their personal demons. Can they escape the black holes?


She did not think she could stand the sweet torment any longer. He was on top of her, his fingers threading through the splayed strands of hair, his tongue teasing a path down her breasts, her stomach, to the intimate core of her.

Her voice was raw with need. “I want to see you…” Her fingers fumbled for the zip of his trousers. His hand closed round hers and as together they tugged it down he rummaged roughly in a pocket and tossed the contents onto the bedside table.

“Ambitious,” Deborah murmured as she caught glints of tin foil. “But don’t keep me waiting.”

“This must go.” He unbuttoned his shirt and bowled it to mingle with the other garments. “And the pleasure of unleashing this is yours.”

Deborah leaned over and, taking the waistband of his Armani briefs between her teeth, lowered them slowly to his straining, hot dick. Her hair skimmed across his flat belly and he let out a deep groan like that of a rutting stag. He leaned forward and ripped the briefs aside as they snagged his ankle and then his long, muscular frame curved in towards her.

“You’re beautiful and very desirable. And I love that luscious au naturel bush. The minute I saw you I sensed our sexual compatibility.” His dark eyes were like magnets connecting her to the very fibre of his being.

“I want you in me and then—”

Zoran’s lips moved across her cheek and found her mouth and she breathed in the warm musk of his skin, smelled the warmth of his hardening cock. He took one rosy breast in his mouth and sucked and demand stormed through her.

“Take me with you,” Deborah gasped, her heart pounding.

He kissed her left foot his lips, brushing her toes and ankle then, slowly kissing the inside of her leg, he moved up to her calf, savouring, tasting her ripening . As he reached the sensitive back of her knee, he flicked it with his tongue and she gasped with pleasure and folded her face into his chest. He lifted his head and kissed her lips then lowered his mouth to her thigh, feathering her butt with his tongue as he made his way along up to her lower back. Reaching her neck, he smoothed aside her hair and kissed her neck and ears. There was something about her he couldn’t define. Something…dewy.

“I’m just getting started with you,” he whispered.

If that was just getting started…imagine…

The warm weight of his balls against her made her want to come. “I can’t wait,” she murmured as he slid a pillow under her back, arching her towards him as he angled his firm body over her. He reached over and sheathed himself, nuzzling her flame-gold pussy, slowly probing into her in an erotic slowness that had her aching for him, aching for the fulfilment of all that he promised.

She gave a little moan. His head went up, sensing the clenching betrayal of her body and he paused. She wasn’t…she couldn’t be…he didn’t do needy virgins.

“Do we have a problem?”


“You’re tight.”

“I haven’t done this for a long time.” Deborah’s voice was almost inaudible against the stubble of his jaw as she hungered for him, savouring his large, stiff , dripping cock against her.

He was resting on his elbows, the strain of control marking his face. “So it has been all work and no foreplay?”

“Something like that… Don’t stop.” Her body cried out for him and taking his cock in her mouth, she sucked it as she offered her thighs up to him.

“Trust me. Just relax.” He soothed her with kisses from her breasts down to the yielding core of her. She was tense but slowly she yielded and became mossy damp.

Sensing her readiness, Zoran threw back his head, desire slamming into him, heating and hardening him and he growled from deep inside his chest, drawing her closer into his naked arousal. He reached over and their lips met as if it were for the last time in melting intimacy, their tongues brushing, playing, devouring, a mutual primitive need damming all instincts of self-restraint.

Deborah had known what she wanted when she came here. To heal the wound locked inside her. To enjoy her sexuality, free of the raw ties of emotion.

“I want you inside me now, Zoran. Take me…fast,” she whispered, clinging to him. She smelt the scent of his skin and her heart pounded, her body arching, opening for him.

“Lift your legs to ninety degrees, Deborah, and we’ll ride there together.” He murmured something in Serbian that she didn’t understand and, pushing back her hair, the dark glitter of his gaze pinned and held her own. And then. “Neither of us will misunderstand this, misunderstand the games we play.”

She knew what he meant but that would change nothing. “Yes,” she whispered, sensing she had broken free and was moving on. Nothing else could ever matter to her again but the heat of his long, engorged cock inside her, his possession of her, her surrender to his essence.

He slid a hand between her raised legs and she gasped as he kneed them farther apart.

“Wider, for me.” He leaned forward, his fingers stroking her thighs, probing her clit, dipping and thrusting in and out, his tongue swirling the velvet of her inner core. She shuddered, warm, elemental sensations she’d never felt before igniting her nerve-endings, filling her, fuelling her, to respond to his need. It felt good. Oh so good.

“Wanting you so badly. I’ve got to come.” Her eyelashes fluttered, and waves of pleasure flooded through her as she felt the soaking wetness of her yearning.

“Come for me.” He ripped the foil with his teeth and rolled on the condom.

Soft hued swathes of silver spilled from the crescent moon highlighting the polished gleam of his hair and, aching for him, she dug her hands into his hard muscled arms.

Zoran’s warm hands rose to cup her creamy breasts and softly encircling her nipples, he kissed them and she shivered, never wanting this to end.

“Don’t stop what you’re doing,” she whispered as she took his dripping silken cock between her lips, the taste of his creamy cum flooding her senses.

Find more of Serena's work on her website:

Monday, February 3, 2014

The 5th Book in Sabrina York’s Scorching Tryst Island Series Releases!

Fans of the Tryst Island Books have been eagerly awaiting the next installment. Not only is it here, it is premiering at a special introductory price as a thank you to loyal readers. 

The scorching follow up to bestselling Rebound, Dragonfly Kisses, Smoking Holt and Heart of Ash, Devlin’s Dare will release at a special price of 99¢ for two weeks, before going to its regular price of $2.99 on February 15th.

If you’re new to the series, check out the Tryst Island Trailer: or download Sabrina’s free teaser book at to read blurbs and excerpts for this popular series. Each book in the series is a stand-alone story.

DEVLIN’S DARE—Book 5 in the Tryst Island Series
A No-Strings Fling Becomes Something For Which He Will Risk All

Devlin Fox has always been a player. A horny bee flitting from flower to flower. He has no idea why the sexy minx he meets on the way to Tryst Island affects him the way she does. Arousal—for her—hits him like a fist to the gut and he can’t stop thinking about her.

But Tara Romano doesn’t “do” commitments. For good reason. When she proposes they be “friends with benefits,” Devlin can’t figure out why the idea annoys him so much. It should be the perfect scenario. A gorgeous, alluring woman who only wants him for his body… He wants, needs, more from Tara, so he hits upon a plan to turn their no-strings-fling into something lasting. A series of tantalizing dares—dares Tara cannot resist.

Book 5 in the Tryst Island Series EXCERPT...

By reading any further, you are stating that you are at least 18 years of age.
If you are under the age of 18, please exit this site.

That’s Devlin Fox?” She glared across the restaurant. It wasn’t bad enough that the gorgeous guy she ran into on the ferry turned out to be friends with the douche in the ascot she’d been running from. No.
He had to be her worst enemy too.
Damn. Damn damn damn.
“You know him?” Bella asked.
“He writes a Foodie Blog.” Tara glowered around the table, trying hard not to snarl. Or pout. “He gave Stud Muffin a bad review.”
“What?” Cam squawked.
Jamie shook her head. “Why did he do that?”
Tara crossed her arms over her chest. She’d spent her life learning her craft. Spent her life savings opening her own bakery. Spent years building clientele. Then, with one crappy review, business had tanked. Totally into the toilet. In one fell swoop, many of her regulars had stopped coming in.
She wasn’t sure she’d be able to make the bills this month, which was devastating.
And all because of him.
It was unfair for one man to have so much power.
And why had he panned her bakery? “Because I don’t have gluten-free.” She muttered, then added, under her breath, “Big baby.”
Still, gluten-free was a huge deal in Seattle. She’d spent the past week working up recipes. And fantasizing about wreaking vengeance on a certain blogger.
It had been a mere fantasy, until now. But now…
Kaitlin shifted closer, drawing Tara’s attention. “What are you thinking?” she asked in a whisper, her features tight.
Tara froze. It didn’t do to think around Kaitlin. Not that the elfin redhead read minds, or at least that’s what she claimed. But she seemed to know things.
“Nothing.” Tara made it a point to bat her lashes.
Kaitlin’s nose rumpled, as though she smelled something nasty. Like a lie.
But hell. Tara couldn’t tell Kaitlin what she was really thinking because Kaitlin—the sweet, innocent soul that she was—would try to talk her out of it. Ramble on about Karma and shit.
No, Tara couldn’t tell anyone what she was really thinking about.
Because she was plotting revenge.
She was going to get Devlin Fox back. And she was going to get him good.
* * * * *
“Hi there.”
Devlin turned on the barstool, his trademark smile firmly in place. Everything within him froze. It was her. That little slice of heaven from the ferry. Damn. She was as hot as he remembered.
She sidled up next to him and the chatter of the bar receded. Fascination—and something else—rose.
“Well hello there.”
He liked her scent, something floral and light. He liked her heat as she pressed against his side. She lowered her long lush lashes and peeped up at him through the fringe. Damn, that was sexy. She licked her lips. That was sexy too.
“I never got to thank you,” she purred.
“Th-Thank me?” Was that her hand? On his thigh?
Shit yeah.
“For saving me.” Her fingers flexed. “I would have tumbled to my death if you hadn’t grabbed me.”
“I doubt you would have tumbled to your death. Disfigurement, perhaps. Dire injury. But not death. Don’t exaggerate.”
She laughed, a low chortle. “Well… Thank you.” She leaned closer and whispered, “Can I buy you a drink?”
Devlin blinked. He’d been hit on in bars before, but no woman had ever offered to buy him a drink.
She might just be a perfect woman. “Sure.”
“What’s your poison?”
“Whiskey sour.”
She signaled to the bartender.
“So…I’m Devlin.”
“Devlin.” She cooed. Actually cooed.
“And you are…?”
He jumped a little as her hand skated up his thigh. His pulse skipped. “I…ah…yes. But what can I call you?” He had a pretty good idea where this was headed, and he wanted to know what to cry out as he sank into her steamy depths. It was only polite to know a woman’s name at a moment like that.
She pursed her lips, as though she were thinking it over. Or thinking about something else. Her thumb snaked up. Nudged his balls, ever so lightly, and through thick denim, but he felt it like an electrical charge. “Call me Sugar.”
“Sugar.” Oh yeah. She was sweet.
“Would you…like to go for a walk?”
“A walk?” His cock lurched. All thoughts of that drink faded.
“It’s a beautiful night…”
She looked over her shoulder and then threaded her fingers in his, leading him toward the back of the bar. He didn’t know why they weren’t heading for the front door, but didn’t much care.
She was a beautiful woman. She wanted him. And he was just drunk enough to follow her anywhere she led.
He shot a glance at Parker who sent him a thumbs up.
They barely made it out the back door of the bar before she kissed him. Damn. Backed him up against the wall, raked her fingers through his hair, pulled his head down and took his mouth.
And damn, she was a good kisser. She ate him with heat and passion and carnivorous zeal. He responded in kind, thrusting his tongue into her mouth. He nearly passed out when she sucked on it, nibbled it, toyed with it. He couldn’t help imagining her doing the same to his cock.
Her palm roved over his chest and made its way down to his hips. He didn’t dare move as she slowly teased the band of his jeans. She pulled back and held his gaze as she popped the snap.
“Mmm,” she murmured, reaching in. His eyes crossed as she molded his length. Squeezed. “Such a big boy.” She licked her lips and his brain short-circuited. When she went to her knees before him and blew a hot breath on him through the cotton of his briefs, he nearly lost consciousness. “I want to taste you,” she said. “Take off your pants.”
Holy God. Yes.
In a frenzy, he kicked off his shoes, and ripped off his jeans, hopping from one foot to the other. He held still, frozen in place, as she hooked her thumbs in his briefs and eased them down revealing his eager cock. She dragged his underwear down until they pooled at his ankles.
He heard the catch in her moan. Felt the trace of a warm finger around his swollen head and down to the base. He shuddered.
“Ah. Yes,” she said, coming close. Her heat caressed him. His knees knocked. She fisted him. Pumped. Once. Twice. Blood pounded at his temples. Thrummed in his cock. She bent closer. Her damp breath kissed the head. “Such a big dick,” she said.
If he’d been in his right mind, her tone would have warned him, but he wasn’t in his right mind. He was a little drunk and a lot horny and there was a gorgeous woman on her knees before him with his cock in her fist. Her mouth hovered over the tip.
Yes. Yes. Just a little more…
She released him and stood up in a rush. Her beautiful, seductive expression morphed into something bitter. He gaped at her, stunned.
“Yeah,” she said, propping her fists on her hips. “You, Devlin Fox, are a big dick.”
And then she left. Whirled on her heel and left him standing there, half-naked, leaning against the grimy brick wall behind a grungy bar.
And she took his jeans.

About Sabrina York

Her Royal Hotness, Sabrina York is the award winning author of over 20 hot, humorous stories for smart and sexy readers. Her  titles range from sweet & sexy erotic romance to scorching BDSM. Connect with her on twitter @sabrina_york, on Facebook or on Pintrest. Check out Sabrina’s books and read an excerpt on Amazon or wherever e-books are sold. Visit her webpage at to check out her books, excerpts and contests. Free Teaser Book: And don’t forget to enter to win the royal tiara!


Enter to win a signed print copy of scorching Regency romance, Dark Fancy on Goodreads!

Like my Facebook Author Page
Follow me on Twitter @sabrina_york
Check out my Pintrest boards:
Check out my Barnes & Noble Author page:

Check out Sabrina York's other books on Ellora's Cave