Tuesday, May 14, 2013

The Pleasures of Cris Anson's Mercy & Redemption


The Latest in the Redemption Series

 Mercy and Redemption -- Cris Anson

Blurb:

Searching in an old cemetery for likely gravestones to illustrate her colonial cookbook, Mercy Howe meets two hunks who are tracing their ancestry. And sparks fly. Literally.

When Mercy casually touches Seth and Adam, her vividly erotic vision involving all three of them feels like a memory, not a dream, and awakens long-dormant sexual urges. With their kisses achingly familiar, she welcomes each in turn into her body. Then she spends a no-holds-barred weekend with both men in her bed and discovers an intimacy—and a past—that blows her mind.

As memories resurface from three hundred years ago, Mercy will have to choose whether to relive the experiences from their joint past or forge a new bond with either Seth or Adam. Or both.

Excerpt:

She’d been acutely aware of Seth’s presence as he alternately followed or preceded her through the downstairs, aware of the piney, masculine scent of him, of the way his clothes hugged his lean body. Aware that they had deliberately refrained from brushing against each other in doorways.

Aware of the stark desire in his deep, dark eyes, the bulge in his jeans that he did nothing to hide.

Just last night she’d allowed a complete stranger to take greater liberties with her body than she’d ever encountered in her thirty-five years of existence. And tonight she was contemplating even more with another stranger.

If Seth knew about her encounter with Adam, would he think her a slut? Did she think she was?

No. Today’s woman was as emancipated as today’s man. If she wanted it, she should go for it.

And she wanted Seth. No guesswork about it.

They moved simultaneously, halting a mere inch apart. “Mercy. I want to kiss you.”

The cream seeping through Mercy’s panties threatened to make a dark patch on the faded denim of her shorts. Maybe he wouldn’t notice. Maybe he would notice and would welcome its appearance.

Maybe she should stop overthinking this and just lean a hairsbreadth forward…

Their lips met softly. Mercy’s eyelids fluttered downward at the contact. Nothing but lips brushing together then melding to each other with mouths closed. For a long moment she savored the sweetness, the luxury of it, unhurried, nascent, fragile. Then she felt the gentle stroke of a finger on her cheek, tracing the line of her jaw, her throat, felt the soft exhalation of his breath against her skin.

She needed more than a chaste kiss. Somehow she knew Seth could give her more, much more than this baby step. Tentatively she opened her mouth, allowed her tongue to explore the seam of his lips.

On a groan he grabbed her upper arms with strong hands and brought her body into full contact with his, chest to breasts, hips to hips, thighs to thighs. His cock, hot and hard behind his jeans, pressed into her belly. His mouth opened to receive her tongue, and then his tongue was stroking hers, thrusting and receding, demanding her response.

Mercy replied by snaking her arms around his waist, undulating her hips to deepen the contact and declare her intentions. Skin to skin, that’s what she needed. This reckless feeling he aroused in her was new, made her bold, knowing. Her hands slid down to his firm butt, which at the first touch she decided was world-class. She grabbed his round ass cheeks and kneaded them, bent her knees to rub her body up and down against his. She couldn’t get enough of the feel of him, hot and hard and…here. Finally. After how many lifetimes—

“Mercy,” he moaned, “I want you. God, I’ve thought of nothing but you since we met. But—”

Suddenly, inexplicably, he withdrew, holding her at arms’ length to look into her eyes, chest heaving with his ardor. “Mercy, I’m sorry. I was out of line. I don’t want you to think you’re merely a notch on any bedpost of mine.” He took a deep breath. “I want to spend time with you, to get to know you. You’re somebody special, I already know that, and I don’t want to blow it.”

Mercy smiled, licked her lips while staring deeply into those dark-chocolate eyes. Eyes she’d stared into before, somehow she just knew she had. “Seth, everything you’ve just said to me was a negative—‘I’m sorry.’ ‘I don’t want this.’ ‘I don’t want that’.” She shook her head. “What I don’t want is…”

When she didn’t continue, he blew out a breath. “What?”

“I don’t want you to hold back. I want you to follow whatever urges you—”

He ground out an oath, thrust his hands under her armpits and lifted her several inches from the floor. “That worktable. The first time, it has to be in front of the fireplace.”

A scant moment later, Mercy found her ass plunked on the table as Seth bent her backward to position her on the scarred and weathered oak, then hoisted her legs to wrap around his hips, with him curved above her, overwhelming her mouth with the intensity of his kisses.

Seth had no clue how this sudden inspiration—desperation—had flared into his consciousness. He only knew that he had to have her on that table. Never in his life had he performed such an impetuous act. Never had he so disrespected a woman, treating her like a thing to be ravished.

He only knew that he had to have her—now.

Lifting his head, he searched her eyes. They held a matching desperation. For him. Mercy’s pupils were so dilated with lust the startling blue had all but disappeared. Her mouth was swollen from his plundering. Sweat beaded at her hairline, rolled down her temple.

He kissed his way down her throat, down the center of her chest. That flimsy scrap of clothing had to go. Buttons. He had to unbutton the front placket. His fingers felt encased in cement. Grabbing the soft fabric, he pulled. Buttons pinged on the oak, on the floor. Relishing the sight of that creamy expanse of skin, he bent his head to her exposed breast, sucking one hard nipple fully into his mouth, foreplay be damned. He felt as though he couldn’t get enough of her firm, pillowy flesh. As though he needed to consume her totally.

Mercy’s head thrashed from side to side on the unyielding oak. Her thighs tightened their grip on his hips. Small mewls of pleasure erupted from her throat, sexy sounds that egged him on. He shifted to her other breast, giving it like treatment as his fingers pinched the nipple of the first one, still wet and turgid from his mouth.

More. He needed more of her. All of her. Now. Or he’d die.


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2 comments:

Cris Anson said...

Thanks for hosting me, Kathy. It's always a pleasure to chat with you.

Kathy Kulig said...

Always a pleasure to have you here, Cris! I love your books. :)