Showing posts with label Rude. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Rude. Show all posts

Tuesday, 10 November 2015

Rulebreaker - Lily Harlem



Rule Breaker by Lily Harlem

Rule Breaker, a dark erotic romance novel by Lily Harlem, is out now from Totally Bound and all other good ebook retailers Amazon   Amazon UK ARe Kobo B&N Sony ibooks .

Back Cover Information

Locks, keys and prison bars can’t contain a love that’s meant to roam wild and free, but when that love is let loose, will Lacey be able to handle what’s heading her way?

Rules are meant to protect the innocent and keep danger at bay—except for me. The lines blur, and it all started when I met the ultimate bad boy. But is he? Miller Davenport might be big, bad and brimming with sin but he’s confessed his crimes and for ten years he’s served his time and walked the line.

Everyone deserves a second chance, right? And as his nurse—the one person who understands him—I can’t help but count the days till we can be together properly, without guards watching over us and without every look and word we share censored.

When that day comes, though, will our desire for each other explode and take me to the new heights he’s promised? And if so, how will I survive such intensity?
One thing is for sure. With Miller I’ll be whisked up in a whirlwind of his dark energy and a tornado of his lust, and likely taken to the very edge of what I can handle. I can’t help a few nerves, though, as release day approaches, because if it all comes crashing down, who can I depend on when I’ve ridden into the sunset with a man who’s broken all the rules? Will I be saved or will I have pushed everyone and everything too far?

Reader Advisory: This book contains scenes of exhibitionism, anal play and light restraint.

Excerpt

“Yeah.” He nodded. “Yeah, you’re right. I’ll just go with the first one they show me. Fuck it, it’s a cake shop. They’ll all be bloody nice.” He glanced at Miller then back to me. “Do you mind if I make a call while you—?”
“Not at all, go ahead.” I waved him to the seat. “This is my last time with Miller anyway, so I’m sure he’ll behave.”
Miller’s jaw was tense. His eyebrows drew low and a small muscle flexed in his cheek.
Barry pulled out his phone and, without glancing at me again, dropped his bulk into the chair—the legs scraped on the hard floor. He started scrolling over the screen.
“Come on,” I said to Miller.
He followed me into the clinical room.
I walked up to the counter and reached for my tray of equipment.
“Lacey.”
I startled. He was right behind me.
He set his hands on the work surface, one either side of my body, trapping me against it with his torso.
“What?” I whispered, glancing at the door, my head brushing his.
“Tomorrow,” he murmured, his mouth right against my ear.
A thrill and a chill went through me as my neck and scalp tingled and tightened at his nearness.
“What about it?” I placed my right hand over his, cupping his hard knuckles. It was a bold move, but touching him was what I craved—I couldn’t help myself.
I heard him pull in a breath. “Meet me.”
“Where?”
“Anywhere you fucking want. Just be there.” He paused and pushed a little harder against me.
His groin, the outline of his cock, semi-hard, nestled against the crack of my buttocks. Lust blazed
through my veins. Damn it, tomorrow was too long to wait.
But we had to.
“There’s a pub, round the corner from here,” I said. “The Cow and Slipper.”
He turned his hand and gripped my forearm. His fingertips pressed over my pulse points, his fingers were big and dark against the delicate veiny underside of my wrist.
“I’ll be there at noon,” he said.
“So will I.”
“Thank you.” He pressed his cheek against my ear. The weight of his head was heavy against mine.
I leaned into him. The daring, risky move heightened all of my senses. His chest against my shoulders, his breath on my cheek and his stubble against my temple. And damn, his body shoved into mine, his cock pushing through clothes against my arse. I wanted it. All of it.
“We’ll take it slow,” he whispered. “Get to know each other without a boss watching over us. Speak freely about what we want. I’m not in it for a lay. What we have is special. I’m doing this because I want you—always have, from the first time I saw you.” He paused. “But you know that.”
I swallowed and turned. I did know that.
He released my wrist.
I looked up at him. This was the closest we’d ever been. I was surrounded by him, wrapped up in him. It was where I wanted to be.
He leaned a little closer and his chest brushed against mine.
My nipples drew into pinched peaks, scraping against the inner cups of my bra.
“I thought of you last night,” he said. He lifted his hand and caressed my cheek. The small hard patches of skin, from where he banged weights, scratched against my flesh.
“What did you think?” I asked, my hands hovering. I wanted to touch him but didn’t dare, for fear that I wouldn’t be able to stop.
I glanced at the door again.
“Shh, it’s okay. I can still hear him talking,” he said.
“Maybe you should tell me tomorrow, when we don’t have to rush.” My heart was racing, adrenaline swamping my system. The thought of Barry catching us like this had me on a knife’s edge, but I couldn’t push Miller away. Barry had been instructed to behave like Miller might be a danger to me, yet I’d never felt safer than at this moment with Miller’s full attention—with Miller, big, bad now-tamed Miller, looming over me.
I knew what he was, what he was capable of, but he’d been reformed. He was being let out. The judge, the crown, had decided he’d paid for his crimes and he was no longer a danger to society.
Which meant he wasn’t a danger to me.
“I’ll tell you tomorrow then,” he said, lowering his head. “If that’s what you want.”
I stared into his dark eyes, at the way his lashes pointed slightly downward. They weren’t curled, and he had a tiny freckle like a teardrop under his left eye. I hadn’t noticed that before. Hadn’t been close enough.
“I’ll look after you, hen,” he whispered. “Don’t ever be afraid of me. I’m not violent. I’m a good man now. I’ll be your good man for as long as you’ll have me. I promise. I won’t hurt you.”
“I’m not…scared, that is.”
“Good.” He leaned closer still. I looked at his lips. I could see every tiny dent and crease on them, his top one was thinner than the bottom and with stubble peppered right up to the outline.
Fuck, is he going to kiss me?
We couldn’t.
Not here.
Not now.
“No,” I mouthed.
He pressed his closed lips to mine. They were dry, yet soft. He held my head in both of his hands and pushed his hard body forward, trapping me against the counter.
I whimpered and clung to his forearms. Terror and desire warred within me. I’d lose my job. He could lose his good-behavior privilege and be held for the remainder of his sentence.

It was the most reckless kiss I’d ever experienced, yet also the gentlest, sweetest connection I could ever remember.
He pulled back.
I opened my eyes.
His were still shut.
He furled his tongue over his bottom lip, as though tasting me there.
“Jesus,” he said quietly. “How the hell am I going to get through this last night without you?”
“Stop.” I rested my hands on his chest and pushed. “Please, save this for tomorrow.” Again I threw a glance at the door.
“Okay.” He opened his eyes, released me and stepped back. He held up his palms as if surrendering. “This last bit is the hardest though. I guess it’s like running a marathon. It’s all shit but the last mile? The last hundred yards? That’s what really gets you here.” He banged his chest. “It’s the shitiest bit.”
“I suppose.” I rubbed the tip of my index finger on my lips, reliving the sensation of his mouth on mine.
“Fucking genius you are, Lacey,” Barry said, walking in.
A flash of surprise went over Miller’s face.
Alarm must have crossed mine too.
Neither of us had heard him finish his conversation or been aware of him approaching the clinical room.
Bloody hell. If he’d come in ten seconds ago…no, make that five seconds ago.

About Lily Harlem

Lily Harlem lives in the UK and is an award-winning author of contemporary erotic romance. She writes for publishers on both sides of the Atlantic including HarperCollins, Totally Bound, Pride Publishing, Evernight Publishing, Xcite, and Sweetmeats Press. Her work regularly receives high praise and industry nominations.

Before turning her hand to writing Lily Harlem worked as a trauma nurse and her latest HarperCollins release, Confessions of a Naughty Night Nurse draws on her many experiences while nursing in London. Lily also self-publishes and The Silk Tie, The Glass Knot,  In Expert Hands and Scored have been blessed with many 5* reviews since their release.

Lily writes MF, MM and ménage a trois, her books regularly hit the #1 spot on Amazon Best Seller lists and Breathe You In was named a USA Today Reviewer’s Recommended Read of 2014. Her latest MM novel is Dark Warrior.

Lily also co-authors with Natalie Dae and publishes under the name Harlem Dae - check out the Sexy as Hell Box Set available exclusively on Amazon - The Novice, The Player and The Vixen - and That Filthy Book which has been hailed as a novel 'every woman should read'.

One thing you can be sure of, whatever book you pick up by Ms Harlem, is it will be wildly romantic and down-and-dirty sexy. Enjoy!

Find Lily on the Web





Sunday, 4 August 2013

Naked with David Beckham...In My Dreams

Why yes, I'd love to dream without
Rude Dudes starring in them, thanks.
Even though I write erotic romance, it doesn’t mean I’m a raging sexual maniac. To have a saucy dream is a bit traumatic for me, to be honest. In this particular dream I felt like I would in real life. Sandwiched between Ronan Keating and an unknown man in my bed, I was conscious of being in my scabby old nightclothes, but more importantly, the need to get the fuck out of the bed and away from those perverts. When Ronan produced a Marigold glove and started prodding at my lady garden with it, I knew I was in trouble. Thankfully, as the blown-up item pressed against my nethers, I woke up and could only assume the glove had been tied at the top to hold in all the air.

"I'm never going to wash up by hand again, not with gloves on anyway. Scarred for damn life thanks to you, Keating."

Let me tell you, I was thankful to be awake. I had that startled look, I’m sure, of someone not knowing whether they’d had a dream or if it was real, because, of course, I’d woken up in the same damn bed my dream had been set in. Was that huddle beside me the unknown man and not Hub? And was Ronan on the other side, waiting with a sinister smile and a bloated glove, ready to confess his needs in that Irish accent of his, or maybe even sing it in a Boyzoney manner? I confess I checked. Yes, I turned to the side only to see my flowery wallpaper.

"Never had a rose in full bloom looked so good. I reached out to touch it, thankful my fingertips only met with wallpaper and not the soft, Irish skin of a crooner."

I snuggled up to Hub then fell back to sleep—only to find myself in another weird dream with sexual connotations. What-the-fuckery was afoot, and I was at a loss to get myself awake. My mind wasn’t allowing it.

Picture this. Night. Balmy summer. And I was naked in a tree-surrounded car park with David Beckham. We were on the tarmac on our backs, looking up at the stars. A car came along and parked right by us, the front of the undercarriage over me, one of the tyres perilously close to my shoulder. I remember thinking he’d better stop or he’d fuck my poorly shoulder up even more. The driver got out. Someone else walked across the car park, and, as me and David watched, the driver killed them.

Random woman with baps on display outside at night.


The dream switched, as they so often do, to another scene. The police had arrived, and myself and Beckham were giving statements, totally unabashed at being naked. I asked myself why the cops had clothes on, and thought they were weird to have such items covering them. It felt like showing your jolly bits was normal, so for them to have theirs covered…nope, couldn’t get my head around that.

"Why haven't you go your tackle out, Mr Coppah, swaying in this here cool breeze?"

Anyway, I woke up at that point, frowning and asking myself why both dreams had been on the rude side. I mean, the last time I’d had a rude one was years ago when I’d dreamt of being naked in a stinky old tent with Liam Gallagher while he’d warbled Wonderwall at me. After he’d finished singing, I left the tent—naked again—and wandered between thousands of others, wondering when the concert was going to start. I assumed I was on one of those weekend wotsits, where people camped out and got high for two days while waving their lighters about in the air when famous artists got on stage to belt out their latest songs.

My thumb is simply not for licking.
I ended up on a main road, the tents behind me, and stood there with my thumb out. I’d never hitchhike, so that felt weird—even weirder when Gallagher appeared by my side on his knees, licked my thumb then told me not to look back in anger and that his band, Oasis, would save me.

Like I said, what-the-fuckery, all of it.

So, I braved it and went to the dream dictionary to find out why Ronan had prodded me with an inflated washing-up glove and why Beckham had been looking up at the stars with me. I’m a tad old-fashioned, and although I know I can’t control my dreams and it isn’t my fault who stars in them with me, I kind of want Hub looking at the stars and Hub poking me with a…no, actually, I don’t want that, but you get the idea.

So, here’s the interpretation. Snippets from dreammoods.com:

Marigold: To see marigolds in your dream denotes health and longevity. (I’ll take that, even though I’m sure they mean a flower and not some fucked-up glove.)

Famous Singer: It indicates harmony and glorification of the human spirit. (Oh, right, so what the hell was him poking me all about?)

Poking: Perhaps the dream is giving you a poke or a nudge to move forward. Thus, the dream may be a pun on being "pokey" or slow. You need to stop sitting around and start accomplishing your goals. (It took me going through THAT for my subconscious to just say: Pull your fucking finger out, get a grip and get on with things?)

Murder: To dream that you witness a murder indicates deep-seated anger towards somebody. Consider how the victim represents aspects of yourself that you want to destroy or eliminate. (No idea who the murder victim was, so this doesn’t help. I had anger at myself in my waking hours, though, and I did want to destroy the part of myself that was making me unhappy, so yeah, I dig this.)

Naked: If you are accepting of someone else's nudity, then it implies that you can see right through them and their intentions. Or perhaps you are completely accepting them for who they are. If you do not care about someone else's nudity, then it suggests that you need to learn not to be afraid of rejection. (So why was I confused at the cops being clothed? Sod this analysis business for a laugh…)

Okay, I get it. When I’m stressed and unhappy at myself I’m going to have rude dreams. Best be making myself a bit more cheerful then, because I dread to think what the hell my subconscious will come up with next. A cow’s udder instead of a glove? 


My name is Marigold.


"I'm watching you, Ellis. I'll flap my udders at you as soon as you think you're safe..."