[Siren Classic: Erotic Paranormal Romance]
Dream Ballantyne has looks, money, a beach house and magic powers. But her love life is a complete zero. She takes matters into her own wand and conjures a spell to lure passion, unaware that more fire than she can handle is already en route.
Grant Decker is a sexy Midwesterner who moves into the beachfront lot across the street to build his dream home. The neighborhood welcome wagon includes a warning to steer clear of the blonde seductress across the street who tries to impose construction demands on Grant to spare her precious ocean view.
Their battle of wills quickly sparks into flaming erotic attraction, but when Grant learns witchcraft is responsible, he refuses to be taken in by her enchanted charms. But forgetting the passion of their lifetimes is the least of their worries—surprises and supernatural danger lie in the wake of one enchanted evening.
“Dream.” His voice was a ragged whisper. “What are we doing?”
Breathless, her hand slid down and found his bulk with a firm hold. “This.”
He groaned. “We shouldn’t.” Despite the words, he pushed himself against her hand. “We just met.”
She shifted until both palms were rubbing his crotch. “We’re both adults.”
The feel of her hands unhooked his thighs, and a tingle of sweat broke out on his forehead. “You don’t even know me.”
Her lips nibbled at his jaw. “You’re Grant Decker, my new neighbor.”
He searched her gaze. In sparkling flecks of violet gold, he found nothing but desire for him He’d never seen anything more damn erotic.
He reached for her. “We shouldn’t. But I can’t stop myself.”
She pulled up on the fabric of his shirt, and his arms went up willingly to aid her in tugging it over his head. He’d barely thrown the garment to the floor when her head bent slightly to lick his nipple. Lust sheared him in two, and the groan that escaped his throat was part passion, part near anguish at the sensation.
“I don’t know why I can’t stop,” he said. “But I don’t give a damn right now. I want you, Dream. That’s all I know.”
“You have me. That’s all you need to.”
He sank to his knees before her, his fingers grazing her neck to land at the front of the laces on her camisole. Rather than pulling it over her head, he gave into his earlier urge to untie those laces, then tug the edges of fabric aside until they presented him with two of the most perfect pink buds he’d ever known existed.
With a moan of approval he teased and kneaded them into hardened peaks. His cock jumped in response to her sharp intake of breath. His tongue sought her nipples, sweet as the smell of clover after a fine rain. Dream threw her head back and moaned his name as his teeth grazed tender flesh. His hands went to the front of her jeans, seeking the fly that had been parted and waiting when he’d first arrived. That tease of red lace had driven him crazy.
With some effort he pulled the second skin of her denims down, and his mouth went straight to the triangle between her legs. The nectar he found there sent a cry from her throat, and as his tongue worked between her labia and found the stiff clitoral bud, her legs gave way.
“Grant,” her whisper pleaded with him. “I can’t stand up anymore.”
Without a word he rose, lifting Dream by her narrow waist and laying her reverently on the bed. He shed the rest of his clothes while staring at her. When her eyes slid down to his erection they widened, and he knew why. He’d never been this big in his life. His already generous endowment was purpled and swollen to near bursting with need for her. She licked her lips, and he felt a bead of moisture slide from the tip of his cock. God, but she was perfection, and with her face flushed and moist with desire, the effect rendered her even more magnificent.
He moved over her, letting his forearms slide up either side of her head. His hands found their way under the pillow behind her and brushed against a shape that resonated with him oddly. He withdrew a small bag and dangled it in front of her. “What’s this?”
Her eyes shot wide. “Nothing.” She grabbed the ball away, stuffing it back under the pillow. “Just a sachet. You know, fragrance.”
His interest in the anomaly was already gone. The head of his cock pushed against her silky pubic hair, robbing his ability to think. There were so many things he wanted to do to her, but he hadn’t the patience for any of them. He was obsessed with the need to drive himself inside her, consummate this inferno before he went mad. If it wasn’t already too late.
As if mirroring his thoughts, her pelvis ground against him. “Make love to me now, Grant. Please.”
All talk ceased, save the primal communion reserved for those in the throes of passion. There was their sharp breath as they joined, crying out and grunting, writhing and screaming. Grant took her in one sure stroke to find the bottom of slick, honeyed bliss, compelled to possess every inch of this woman. He thrust his cock in long, deliberate strokes, gaining speed as life and reality slid away into a universe of nothing but their sex. No moment was more perfect, no passion more fulfilled. No woman more consuming.
He raised her hands above her head and held them there, making her his sexual prisoner while he pushed his hips forward.
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