Review: Credence by Penelope Douglas

Format: E-Bookcredence
Read with: Kindle Paperwhite
Length: Novel
Genre: New Adult
Series: Standalone
Publisher: Self-Published
Hero: Kaleb Ver der Berg
Heroine: Tiernan de Haas
Sensuality: 4
Date of Publication: January 13, 2020
Started On: January 14, 2020
Finished On: January 19, 2020

Credence by Penelope Douglas was one of the most awaited stories for me by the time 2019 hurtled towards its inevitable end. Released on January 13th, Credence was welcomed with such hope and excitement in my heart, because Penelope is an author who knows how to write a damn good story.

Credence begins at the point where the heroine Tiernan de Haas faces the shocking and untimely death of her parents. Loneliness has always been part of Tiernan’s life, growing up with two people who had loved each other to the point that Tiernan had always been an afterthought. Their death leaves its mark on her, as had life up till that point, until her step-uncle Jake Ver der Berg invites her to live with them.

Deep in the mountains of Colorado lives the Ver der Berg’s, their lives being very much different from what had been the norm for Tiernan. Jake and his two sons Noah and Kaleb take Tiernan under their wing, and from the onset there is a weird dynamics between the three that proved to be a major conflict for me in the way the story unfolded.

I am someone who enjoys authors that push the boundaries and explores taboo tropes in their books. Penelope is an author who does this so brilliantly in most of her books, and that is one reason that I was so excited when I read the blurb of Credence prior to its release. She is also one helluva writer, which is probably the one reason why I stuck it out when so many things just felt wrong for me with Credence.

A lot of readers who felt positively about Credence have been raving about how out of the norm this book is, how it surprises you, and how you should read it without any preconceived notions to guide you. I didn’t have any of those notions when I started reading, because I am someone who usually make up my own mind about books that I read rather than letting the “popular” view dictate mine.

I agree with one thing when it comes to the popular view of Credence; the story was definitely surprising in more ways than one, and definitely not in a good way for me for the most part. I think in Credence, I have found a major turnoff for me when it comes to romance, one that had remained undiscovered up till this point; when the heroine is too loose with her affections when it comes to a father and his biological sons.

It is her step-uncle who is the first in line, and while neither of them professes to anything long-term, the ease with which Tiernan was able to turn herself on and off for the three of them was just jarring for me. Each unto their own of course, but for me, I think I just felt like the Ver der Berg themselves had so many issues to just turn up the testosterone levels on a girl who was barely shy of eighteen, who had not had much love in her life from those who should have loved, sheltered, and protected her.

The psychology of Tiernan was something that bothered me; because it is evident that she has many unresolved issues from the way her parents had neglected her throughout  her life. She had always had whatever riches that money could buy, had had every comfort and luxury the rich can provide, but she never did experience unconditional love, the reason why I felt uncomfortable by the whole vibe of Tiernan being taken advantage of by the three of them. Plus, the way the three of them kept reiterating over and over how she was theirs from that point on was kind of creepy too!

I think one of the biggest reasons why I disliked how Tiernan behaved (apart from my conservative beliefs I suppose), is that her sleeping around added no value to the story. There was no tangible emotional connection to any of the characters that would have made me go crazy over the story, there was no development to her character apart from her losing her virginity and hitting jackpot with three men who could get her off just like that. I couldn’t find anything special that differentiated the guy she ended up with, which was also another bummer in the story. Maybe that is how it is in the modern world. I wouldn’t know.

The way she just fell in love, suddenly, just like that, with the least developed character in the story made zero sense. I am at least thankful for the fact that Jake had enough sense for all of them to step back when he did. I would have preferred had she gotten together with him in reality. Because they actually have conversations with each other that don’t always lead to sex and innuendos being exchanged, and he was mature enough to understand where Tiernan was coming from. Had Jake not stepped back at the point he did, I would probably have turned off my Kindle and banged my head on a wall for the bad porno I was subjecting myself to.

I did enjoy the first half of the book, or should I say the first third of the book where Penelope introduced Tiernan and delivered a gut wrenching beginning to the story. My excitement mounted at that point and plummeted to a quick and painful death thereon after. I just wish that there had been more character development, less getting it off without emotional connections, and more fleshing out of the character who ended up being the “hero” of the story.

That brings me to my other big peeve in the story. The “hero” who not so much as made an emotional connection with Tiernan, much less the readers, ended up being one of the most pivotal characters towards the end. Had there being a back story of how he turned out that way, how his emotions had developed when it came to Tiernan, and what had made him change to a point where he could communicate his feelings with her was an aspect that was deeply missed from the story.

Recommended for those who love anything and everything by Penelope Douglas.

Final Verdict: Credence is one of those books loved & gushed over by many and disappointed the few like myself. I wished for a story that would sweep me off my feet and instead feel bereft of the tangible emotions I wanted to feel from the story.

Favorite Quotes

“Do you feel this?” he growls over my lips as he pushes me into the sink. The thick, hard ridge of his cock nudges my ass, and I groan. “This is what you’re doing to me, Tiernan. It’s not right. Instead of pile-driving the hot tits and ass I came home with, I’m sitting down here, trying to talk myself out of going into your room and giving the teenage piece of ass living in my house a really long kiss goodnight.”
My clit throbs, and I shift on my feet, feeling the slickness between my legs.
“And do I take off my panties for that?” I breathe out.

His taste fills my body, and I slide my hand up, taking the back of his neck and holding him to me. I’m so hungry. So hungry, and I can’t breathe. My blood races under my skin, and it feels so good, but God, I need more.
I need more.
I start to move my mouth and kiss him back, slipping my tongue past his lips little by little, moaning and tasting him until I don’t think I’ll ever get enough.

The nerves under my skin fire, and I feel her heat wrap me up as I push her thighs up higher and drive into her. “Tiernan…”
I kiss her deep, licking her sweat, reveling in the heat inside the cab, and tasting my life all those years ago when I would’ve died happy doing this to someone for the rest of my life.
I look down at Tiernan, her body taking everything I’m giving, and I swear I want to swallow her whole. I’d forgotten what this felt like.
To actually want to make someone happy.

“What do you want?” I ask.
He opens his mouth to speak, but nothing comes out.
And then he lowers his voice, barely a whisper. “I want you to like this.”
I do.
But before I have a chance to respond, he drops me to my feet, twists me around, and pins me to the wall. I gasp as he spreads my legs and thrusts inside of me again, pushing my body up on my tiptoes as he holds my thigh wide with one hand. With the other, he reaches around and slips his hand inside my panties.
“I want you happy, Tiernan,” he says low and husky in my ear. “I want my sons happy.”
He fucks me up against the wall, thrusting faster and faster as I turn my head to meet his lips.
“And I want you to know that no matter where you go,” he tells me between kisses, “you’ll always be ours. We’re your home.”

Purchase Links: Amazon | B&N

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Review: Undeclared by Julianna Keyes

Format: E-Bookundeclared
Read with: Kindle Paperwhite
Length: Novel
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Series: Burnham College, #2
Publisher: Self-Published
Hero: Kellan McVey
Heroine: Andrea Walsh
Sensuality: 3
Date of Publication: February 27, 2017
Started On: October 19, 2019
Finished On: October 20, 2019

Undeclared, book 2 in the Burnham College series by Julianna Keyes, released in 2017 is a book that I have been meaning to read since its publication. Julianna is an author I definitely look forward to for many reasons; she has written some of the best contemporary romances that I have read in recent years.

Undeclared tells the story of Kellan McVey and Andrea Walsh (Andie), in the first person POV, from Kellan’s perspective. Kellan who returns to his hometown for a bit, to run into Andie, the girl with whom he had been friends/neighbors since they were five years old, Andie who had loved him for years, and Kellan who had left it unacknowledged all along, even when they had both slept with each other that summer before Kellan had upped and left for college, leaving Andie behind.

Returning to college after the break, only to find that Andie too is now a student, throws Kellan for a loop. Kellan who believes himself to have grown up over the past couple of years, having faced the fright of his life just recently, even though he continues to remain uncommitted to a future, much less a relationship of any sorts.

A series of events leads up to the point where Kellan and Andie gets together again, Kellan savoring each moment that he gets to have with Andie, and if he were to acknowledge the truth, he had never truly gotten over the summer fling they had had, before he left for the greener pastures of life away from his hometown.

While I found Undeclared to be an okay read, it did not move me as much as it did Undecided. One of the major factors being perhaps that the entire story is told from the hero’s point of view which meant that while it was a novelty for me, I was not really impressed.

A romance being told solely from the man’s point of view tends to lack emotional depth and description, because the way I see it, the nuances of emotions tends to escape most men, especially of Kellan’s nature. Don’t get me wrong. I have nothing against Kellan as a character. He was okay in many ways, though I don’t think I was that enamored by him on any scale. Perhaps the more sensitive male protagonists would be able to assess and relate emotions/feelings better, but Kellan being who he was, did not really manage to do that for the story in my opinion.

For that reason I believe, the novel lacked that something vital which makes readers fall in love with the characters and ultimately the story. The inability to see what Andie was feeling and thinking made it impossible to relate to her as a character as well. The fact that I could not really gauge her feelings for Kellan made it difficult for me to be excited about them being together. It is not just two people coming together that makes a romance novel; it is all about how much readers can relate to the characters and understand them which spikes up our emotions as we read.

However, being a Julianna Keyes novel also accounts for a lot, and if nothing else, the book did have me looking forward to reading at that point in time, which I take to be an achievement in itself.

Recommended for fans of sports-themed, new adult romances in college settings. Also those who have a hankering to read a book told from the hero’s viewpoint.

Final Verdict: Undeclared is unlike any other book I have read from Julianna Keyes; she explores what it is like when a romance is told from the male perspective alone, which was a novel experience in itself.

Favorite Quotes

More than two years after our last kiss, I kiss Andi again. For ten long seconds I just press my lips to hers, her mouth soft and stubborn all at once. I can’t remember the last time I did this when I wasn’t drunk and horny and willing to get off with anyone who was equally willing.
Finally Andi exhales, a ragged breath I hear and feel, and she fists her hands in the hem of my T-shirt and tugs. I know what that means. Andi wasn’t a girl who said things like “Do me” or “Fuck me” or “Yeah, baby.” Her actions spoke for her and this one says all of the above. Relief courses through me, then adrenaline, then hormones. Arousal as sharp and heady as I’ve ever felt it.

I push in slowly, feeling her body cede to mine. I’m vaguely aware of the sweat at my temples and the trembling in my weak muscles, but I nudge my hips forward until there’s nowhere left to go, Andi’s legs bent and splayed wide to accommodate me.
I hear her soft sigh as I bottom out and for a long time I don’t do anything. I can’t do anything. This is what I’ve looked for in far too many places and failed to find. It’s what I’m terrified I’ll never find again.

When I’m buried as deep as I can go, I just stay there, my arms trembling as I hold myself up, not sure I have the strength to move. After a minute Andi nudges my chin so she can kiss me, tongues twining lazily. At some point I realize I’m moving, slow, deep strokes that feel like they’re going nowhere and everywhere all at once. I can’t recall the last time I had sex where it wasn’t just about getting off. Maybe never.

My block is dark and quiet, the only sounds our rapid breathing and the quick shuffle of our sneakers on damp pavement. I snatch the keys from my pocket, twist open the front door, and stumble when Andi fairly shoves me inside. I smile and whirl around to pin her to the door with my hips and my hands, though it’s totally unnecessary since she’s already got her fingers in my hair, rising onto her toes to kiss me.
My cock grows impossibly harder.
This might have been worth the wait.

Before I can dwell on it Andi tangles her fingers in my hair and tugs me back, gazing down, lips parted. If I ever woke up in a jungle, this is exactly the woman I imagine would find me. I grope around for the condom, my clumsy fingers eventually finding and rolling it on. I hold my cock in one hand and her ass in the other, guiding her as she lowers herself into my lap. The strong muscles in her thighs quiver as she hovers over me, the too-sensitive head of my cock stroking over her entrance. She bites her bottom lip, hair tangled around her shoulders, and the visual sears itself into my brain.

“Kell,” she gasps.
“What?” I gasp back.
“I… She struggles to inhale. “I don’t have…” Another breath. “A journal…” Her eyes sink shut as she starts to come. “But if I did…” She shudders. “This would be page one.”

Purchase Links: Amazon | B&N | Kobo

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Review: Guys My Age by Saffron A. Kent

Format: E-Bookguysmyage.jpg
Read with: Kindle Paperwhite
Length: Novella
Genre: New Adult
Series: Mixtape: A Love Song Anthology
Publisher: Shady Creek Publishing
Hero: Fallon
Heroine: Dean
Sensuality: 3.5
Date of Publication: January 07, 2019
Started On: August 02, 2019
Finished On: August 05, 2019

I was born with love for Dean and now that I have him in my arms, I’ll never let him go.

Following on the heels of Medicine Man, Saffron Kent has chosen to bring to her reader-base the story of Fallon and Dean, two people who are on the very fringes of the story, but make a huge impact as you read along. The fact that it is a novella made me a bit sadder than I should have been, because Saffron is an author who delivers such good angst and emotions of the feel good variety when it comes to writing on taboo tropes in romance, and I definitely wanted a full length novel to explore all the dangerous possibilities between Fallon and Dean, and I am pretty certain I am not alone in feeling this way.

Nevertheless, being the voracious reader that I am, and having discovered someone like Saffron whose books I identify with on so many levels, wanted to devour as quickly as I could, and at the same wanted that list to be endless,  meant that I of course went ahead and took this on as my next read! Part of an anthology with a bunch of other readers, I dived into the story I wanted to read and did not even skim through the rest.

It had been fifteen years since Fallon had asked Dean to marry her; she had been three and he seventeen. Fallon had not known what the huge age gap meant at that point in time, but what she had known with utter certainty even back then was how Dean could make her feel good about everything, and even make the sad days feel less so.

Saffron’s books always explore aspects of mental health, which was one of the pivotal themes of Medicine Man; the female lead character who suffers from chronic depression. Fallon too has bouts of it, and over the years, Dean had become her best friend, the man she was in love with, the man whose successful career keeps him far too busy for visits.

When Fallon suggests that they take a five day drive back to New York for Christmas, even though Dean is reluctant, he agrees to her plans, crucial for Fallon’s plans of coming clean with Dean about her feelings for him to be successful. Fallon knows deep in her heart just how special it is between them, and if it is going to take a five day road trip of close proximity with her for Dean to get it through his thick head, so be it.

In a short number of pages, Saffron takes readers through the tumultuous emotions that comes from love between two people that society at large would most likely frown upon. Dean’s sense of responsibility and the way he cares about Fallon and her well-being speaks volumes, while at the same time, he his reluctance to cross a line that he could never walk away from speaks of his discipline.

Fallon, in all her wisdom, knows that there is no other for her than Dean. But to convince that to the man of her undying love and affection, it is going to be a bumpy ride, all worth it towards the end. The huge age gap, lusting after someone who was that young, meant Dean had been hard on himself because it should never be. But who is he to deny the woman he loves when she puts forth such a convincing case?

In Guys My Age, true to Saffron’s style that I have come to adore and fall hopelessly in love with, she manages to take the reader on a ride that they would never forget, be it the story is 70 pages or 300 plus pages. I loved Dean to bits. What’s not there to love when it comes to a man who is sexy, collected, authoritative, knows his heart, and is terrified of losing the woman he loves, but at the same berates himself for loving her so much?

I loved Fallon too! She reminds me in a huge way of her mother, a character I fell in love with from the get-go. I just wish that there had been more in-depth exploration of both Dean and Fallon to go around, before the story had ended. Which is where my wish for Fallon and Dean’s story to have been a full length romance gains strength once again.

I believe it would have been emotionally more satisfying to go through the different phases of their lives together, to see Dean’s struggles owing to his feelings for Fallon and vice versa. The full punch of angst did not emerge because a quick resolution is required in a novella. Nevertheless, I enjoyed their short journey towards happily ever after.

Recommended for fans of Saffron A. Kent. If you are not one and a romance reader, do avail yourself to the nearest book by hers you can get your hands on!

Final Verdict: The conviction with which the young love is often infallible. Some are born knowing who their soul belongs with. That is in essence what Saffron explores with Fallon and Dean’s story. Beautifully told, as always.

Favorite Quotes

His grip in my hair, my breasts flattened against his wildly breathing chest. His mouth slamming into mine as he groans like he’s dying. His hot skin, soft hair and rough mouth.
When we break apart for air, my hands are tugging at the shirt at his shoulder and one of my legs is wrapped around his hips.
“I—I’ve wanted to kiss you for a long time,” I admit to his glistening lips.
“Not as long as I have,” he says.

Pinning me with his eyes once again, he growls, “Stop tempting me, Tiny.”
“I will, if you agree.”
“I’ll burn in hell for this.”
I cock my head to the side and smirk, “I thought you were already burning. Exploding.”
“Fallon,” he warns.
His reluctance is weak, weaker than his desire to claim me; I can see it in his eyes. And it makes me bolder, shameless. “I’m burning too, Dean. I swear. It hurts, you know. I’ve been hurting ever since you went away and every night, I dream of you coming back and kissing me. Touching me where I hurt. In my—” I lower my voice and whisper the word I’ve only thought about in the dead of night “—p-pussy.”
I don’t even have time to catch my breath after that. Dean hauls me up, causing both my thighs to clench around his hips and he claims my mouth in a kiss.

“Y—you’re taking care of me,” I whisper, rubbing my cheek in his hair, feeling his thumb on my clit, his teeth on my neck.
Dean looks up, his eyes intense and full of what I feel for him in every corner of my heart. Love. “Always.”
“I love you, Dean.”
“I love you too, Fallon.”
He kisses me then, and I lose all my words. I lose myself. In him, in his mouth, in his body that’s moving in a slow, smooth rhythm inside me. I don’t feel pressure or pain when he thrusts deep, taking away my virginity in one stroke.
All I feel is my love for him. My lust and hunger and this urge to make him mine forever and ever.

Purchase Links: Amazon | B&N

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Review: Bad Boy Blues by Saffron A. Kent

Format: E-Bookbadboyblues.jpg
Read with: Kindle Paperwhite
Length: Novel
Genre: New Adult
Series: Standalone
Publisher: Self-Published
Hero: Zachariah Benjamin Prince
Heroine: Cleopatra Marie Paige
Sensuality: 4
Date of Publication: April 11, 2019
Started On: July 22, 2019
Finished On: July 25, 2019

Mine.
My prize.
She is my prize.
She. Is. My prize.

Bad Boy Blues is another rip-your-panties-off kinda novel from the uber fabulous Saffron A. Kent. An enemies-to-lovers story that delivered all the feels right up till the very end, I am convinced that Saffron is an author who could literally do no wrong when it comes to writing romances that speaks to this wicked heart of mine.

Nineteen year old Cleopatra Marie Paige (Cleo) was born and raised in the “wrong” side of town. The side where folks worked hard and did not have much to show for it. Where everyone had to rely on the other side of town, the one owned by the Princes, for their means of living and employment, that is if you did not leave for greener pastures as soon as you were able to.

Months into her job at the mansion of the Princes, comes back the proverbial son home, Zachariah Benjamin Prince (Zach), the boy who had tormented her all through grade school into high school, until he had abruptly left town. Cleo believes herself to hate Zach with every fiber of her very existence, but at the same time, she cannot help but be drawn towards the man Zach is, the broody mess that is sheer perfection, searing with that sheer heated gaze of his whenever his mocking eyes rest upon her.

Zach tries to keep his distance from the one person he had made it his life’s mission to torment. That had been the only way Zach had known how to deal with all the misery in his own life, with parents who had put their mark on him through emotional abuse and neglect. Uncovering Zach’s life as it had been with his parents was an awakening experience in its entirety, because you never know what drives someone to lash out (not that it excuses their behavior). But for a child who was struggling with his own issues of acceptance and existence from the very two people who should have loved him unconditionally, that right there is the reason my heart wept for the boy Zach had been.

Drawn towards each other despite their misgivings and lack of trust on Zach’s part when it comes to love and being loved, it is the gamble of Cleo’s life when she embarks upon an affair that scorches the very pages of the book, leaving the reader breathless and wanting more. Saffron is an author who has that remarkable way with the words which takes the reader from zero to hundred in a millisecond, and that is one reason why reading her books are like walking a tight rope, all in a good way.

I loved both Cleo and Zach, and rooted for them both all the way through. Cleo had her own issues to deal with, leftover symptoms of losing her family in a way that is bound to leave a mark on anyone. Zach’s issues are more deeply interwoven into his psyche, which means that it is difficult for him to see beyond the surface, fear of rejection being the norm when he had been a child starving for affection and love. Complex is his psyche in every way, which made him a fascinating character. If any woman could do bring Zach out of his inner warring with himself, it would be Cleo, because she had been his, from the very first day they he had laid eyes upon her, and he hers.

Recommended for fans of Saffron A. Kent and readers who love a romance that takes you to that razor’s edge of sharp anticipation; Saffron definitely delivers!

Final Verdict: Bad Boy Blues is another winner from Saffron, an author who pushes all your buttons and gives you every bit of angst and emotion you want to be punched in the gut with!

Favorite Quotes

I thought his thumbs were driving me insane but the scratch of his jeans along my thighs turns every breath into something… erotic.
Before I can dwell on that, Zach grabs my face.
His hands are so large that they span my entire cheek, going up to my messy hair. “So, if I shove your panties aside and stick my finger inside you, I won’t find that tiny little piece of flesh that proves you’re untouched?”
I shudder at the graphic picture he’s painted.
Inside me. His finger.

A moment later, I feel him on my neck. He’s nosing the line of my throat.
I grip his biceps. “A-are you smelling me?”
“Yeah,” he groans.
I flinch and my neck bends sideways. I’m nothing in the face of his aggression right now. The way he’s sniffing my neck, like he’s snorting a line of cocaine. I’m nothing in the face of that need.
Need of a junkie.
“Why?”
“Because you smell nice. Like sugar.”
And sugar is his favorite thing in the world. He’s eating up my scent.
God.

My hips jut off the car but Zach keeps me balanced with his body and his mouth that’s still sucking on my clit while lapping up all the juices from my core. His fingers are still buried in my seam, pressing against my dark hole that won’t stop clenching.
“God…”
I moan and claw at his neck and chant out his name over and over. My entire body clenching and releasing until there’s nothing left.

“You fucked up, Blue,” he growls over my mouth.
“What?” I pant.
“Now, you’re fucked, baby.” His scans my face. He looks like he’s memorizing it. He’s committing me to memory.
“Why?”
His eyes, black and threatening and so beautiful, come up to mine. “Do you have any idea how long, how fucking long I’ve wanted to kiss that mouth?”
I shake my head.
“A thousand years.” He studies my parted, blue-painted lips. “Or at least, it feels like it. I’ve wanted to kiss it ever since you first put on your lipstick in eighth grade.”

“You’re gonna pull down your uniform every time I ask, aren’t you?”
I rock against him again because he read my mind. “Yes.”
Groaning, he gives a long, tight suck before letting go of my breast. “Fuck yeah, you will. You’ll bare your tits for me. Every day. Multiple times a day. Whenever I’m hard up for it. You’ll come to my room and make my bed. And then, I’ll throw you down on it, tear your clothes off, get out your tits and suck on them. You’ll writhe for me, won’t you?”
I nod, almost whimpering.
“You will. I’ll keep sucking on it and sucking on it and you’ll make a mess on the bed. You’ll cream my sheets. You’ll leave a wet spot, yeah?”
“Yes. For you.”

Still panting and sweaty, he lowers me on the bed, half-dressed and indecent. From this angle, the sun glares down at me but Zach blocks it with his big body.
He wraps his hand around my neck and growls, “Who are you?”
Even though I have very little energy left, I still arch my back. As if his voice is a call from my master.
“Your prize.”
His fingers flex around my throat in possession and he bends down to smack a hard kiss on my lips. “As long as I’m here.”

I spasm around his fingers and that makes his shaft jerk inside my mouth. I let his head go and peek out my tongue so he can come on it like I’m coming on his fingers.
The tightness and convulsions of his body match mine. And so do our noises. Probably our heartbeats match too, in this moment.
I drink him down all the while he’s milking me. His taste is just as I imagined it to be. Musky and spicy and him.
So fucking him.
So fucking Zach.

His spine arches, throwing the ridges of his torso into stark relief, as he moans out my name to the ceiling and comes inside of me.
I feel it in my slowly dying heart, that moan, that jerk of his dick.
I sit up and wind my arms around him, bringing us both down on the bed. Groaning, he falls over me.
I’m soothing his back, tracing it with my hands up and down as my channel absorbs his orgasm.
And finally, my body goes limp, listening to his heartbeats.
He’s mine.

I turn my face and tell him, “You can’t torture me like this, you know. You promised.”
“Promised what?”
“That you’ll fuck me like I’m your slut.”
Zach grabs my tits in both hands and squeezes them so hard that the moan that comes out of me is the loudest yet. “Yeah? You want everyone else to think you’re my slut too? Because if I fuck you like that, Blue, you’ll be screaming the roofs down. Your Mrs. S won’t be the only person to know what you do for me. How you serve me.”
Why does that arouse me so much?
Why do I want him to make me scream when I know the consequences?

I scratch his shoulders, his back, his biceps, whatever I can get to as I rock against him, fucking him with all these emotions in my heart.
I realize what I feel for him is too intense, too passionate, too heartbreaking and sad to be called love.
Maybe it’s a tragedy.
Or maybe it’s the blues.
I’ve got the blues and that’s why I can’t stop crying.

Zach sweeps his gaze all over my face before shaking his head once and entering my wet channel.
It’s a slow, sweaty fuck.
Actually, it’s not a fuck at all. It’s love.
We’re making love.
Slowly, gently, thoroughly.
He’s rocking into me like a soft wave and with every stroke, I’m drowning.

Purchase Links: Amazon

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Review: The Unrequited by Saffron A. Kent

Format: E-Booktheunrequited
Read with: Kindle Paperwhite
Length: Novel
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Series: Standalone
Publisher:  CreateSpace
Hero: Thomas Abram
Heroine: Layla Robinson
Sensuality: 4.5
Date of Publication: July 13, 2017
Started On: June 19, 2019
Finished On: June 24, 2019

“You know, Layla, falling in love isn’t bad or wrong or even hard. It’s actually really simple, even if there’s no reciprocation. It’s the falling out that’s hard, but no matter how much you convince yourself otherwise, reciprocation is important. It’s what keeps the love going. Without it, love just dies out, and then it’s up to you. Do you bury it, or do you carry the dead body around? It’s a hard decision to make, but you have to do it.”

First of all, let me start by saying, dear Saffron, I am forever grateful to you for writing The Unrequited. You have literally swung up to the position reserved for the authors that I hold in the highest esteem. That is all!

I quite don’t remember how The Unrequited by Saffron A. Kent landed in my hands. I believe it was through one of my countless search attempts for new books on Amazon, especially after the lackluster book that I had just finished reading. The Unrequited gave me everything I wanted and more, and as a romance reader for life, there is nothing that makes me happier.

Being my first book by the author, I waded into the book cautiously at first. I shouldn’t have even bothered, because I felt right at home from the very start. With the heroine Layla Robinson who hides in her heart unrequited love for a man that had gone unnoticed by everyone else for years, that hopelessness now accompanied with the guilt of being “responsible” for sending him away, Layla is not at all prepared to meet her newest professor in poetry, Thomas Abrams who literally and figuratively takes her breathe away.

Thomas is a man hardened under the emotional assault of a life that had gone awry. Married with a son to his name, Thomas is not the kind of man who should rightfully entice Layla. But then Layla is someone who is adapt at finding men who are emotionally unavailable, or so she tells herself as she unwittingly pursues the heady and wanton feelings of desire and want that sparks to life between them.

There is cheating involved in this novel, there is no escaping that. Saffron does not try to justify it either, but rather, she tells the story as is, leaving the reader to make whatever judgements that they may. Because in real life, our emotions, actions, hesitancy, and  inner fears all bring us to the inevitable conclusion that things are not as black and white as we may like them to be. Or deem them to be. The people who always sit on their high horses and judge the rest for being human, are those whose desires and passions have never been tested, or lead a life that is more hedonistic than most, who hate themselves for it and takes it out on other people.

Thomas is an intense man, a poet, who has lost his muse in the wayward direction his life had taken. He struggles with his burgeoning desire for Layla, going above and beyond to push her away. However, Layla seems to be made of sterner stuff than most, and she comes back time and yet again, and revels in the “punishment” that he doles out for her “misbehavior”.

This was a novel that took my very soul on a journey it has not forgotten four months down the line when I sit down to write my review. Sometimes the hardest reviews you write are for the books that steals the very essence of you, taunts you, haunts you, and makes you revel in the emotional upheaval it gives you.

Thomas, my God, Thomas – he just assaulted all my senses and has not left since. He invaded my emotions and took over my whole being in all his arrogance, wiping out basically every other hero I have read and fallen in love with – hot damn! To see Thomas lose his ironclad control was one of the best parts of this story. At the risk of repeating myself, Thomas is a fascinating man. The way Saffron brings him to life; the rough and hard edges to him, the tender and vulnerable side to him, and the passionate poet within brings remarkable beauty to the story.

I loved how Saffron pushes the boundaries of what constitutes as acceptable romance stories. The aspect of cheating in this story may put a lot of readers off, but for me, this was as realistic as it gets. How Layla comes and basically smashes into Thomas’ life, how both of them are so caught up in this web of desire and want, how all of it is tied together with deeper feelings of tenderness and love, which both of them deny at first, and are forced to face towards the end. I loved how the story did not take readers on other tangents that would have reduced the whirlpool factor when it comes to Layla and Thomas. I dislike it intensely when authors create situations to prolong the inevitable, but what is the point?

There is obsession and desire, and then there is Thomas and his need for Layla and vice versa. While the story is mostly written in the perspective of Layla in the first person, Thomas’ view of how things are unfolding, his painful past and the present give insightful clues to readers along the journey. In Layla, Thomas finds the kind of woman who would give him her all, no questions asked. She matches him, word for word, kiss for kiss, and answers to the needs of his soul.

I love how effortlessly Saffron seems to bring out the best and the worst in her characters, how she so expertly wields the words she uses, often as if she is spinning poetry of her own. The interview on Huffington Post on this book perhaps explains that vibe, because according to her, the story does take its premise from a poetry class she attended.

The tightly wound sexual tension in this book is so darn good. The premise of this book alone lends a sharp agony that twists and turns inside of you, and ain’t that the best feeling? Even with the whole world stacked against the two, there is a part of you that remains hopeful that everything would work out somehow.

There is deep pain in the throes of unrequited love. It is a rather heavy burden for one to carry. But carry it, a lot of us do. Because often, we do not get to choose who we fall in love with. The only thing that we can control is how we act upon it.

The epilogue that was published separately from the story was so welcome after all the emotional wrangling that I went through to read this book – which I am sure all readers who have gone through this story would have appreciated. The endless quotes section of the review perhaps hints at how much I loved The Unrequited.

This is no light and easy read – if you are looking for one, this is definitely not the book you should be choosing. But if what you want is a book that would literally consume you in every single sense, this is the book you definitely should be reading.

Recommended for anyone who loves taboo tropes and boundaries pushed. This is for the readers who have at one point or another in life held unrequited love in their hearts for someone. This is that book!

Final Verdict: The Unrequited delivers perfection at every page you turn. It will dominate your every waking thought because Thomas is the man who is going to eviscerate your heart before you are done.

Favorite Quotes

I’ve got goosebumps under the sleeves of my sweater, followed by flashes of heat. I touch the spine of his book, going up and down the length with my finger. The smooth texture of it causes something heavy to swirl inside my chest. It causes me to bite my lip. As if he’s attuned to my actions, his gaze falls on me. We stay connected a beat before we both look away. For that one beat, I saw his eyes flare, and the blue was so prominent, it took my breath away.

“How did you like the class today, Miss Robinson?”
Busted. I wasn’t paying attention—he knows it, I know it, but still I keep up the charade. “Great, as usual.”
“Is that right?”
I nod, keeping my gaze on the desk.
“Remember what I said, Layla?” His powerful, rich voice creates a buzz inside my body. “Lying might land you in trouble.”
I lift up my eyes to look at him. The buzz escalates into a restless trembling and words slip out of my mouth in a thick whisper. “I’m not afraid of a little trouble.”

I palm his hand that cups my cheek. The dusting of hair over his knuckles grazes my skin. It teases my senses, liquefying them, heating them up. I want to suck on his fingers. I want to taste them after he touches me, taste his flesh after it comes in contact with mine.
I’m assaulted by images of him—his fingers—inside me. Inside my needy core. Petting it, soothing it, stroking it. I picture them curling, hooking inside my channel to coax out my juices and then feeding them to me.
The desire is so strong, so alive that I can’t stop myself from nuzzling in his hand. He grows even hazier, covered by a certain mist, sparkling.
Fuck it. I’m doing it. I’m tasting his skin. Just one lick, I promise myself. It won’t hurt anyone.
I turn my face and peek my tongue out. I make contact with the juncture where his fingers meet the palm. The touch is barely existent. It barely registers in this vast, vast universe, but his taste bursts in my mouth—the strongest, most provocative flavor of salt and chocolate.

Abruptly, he fists my curls and stops me. I look at him fearfully, ready to apologize—not for the kiss, but for being the kisser. His gaze reflects passion, stark, raving need, and I shiver, despite wearing layers and sweating with his heat. “Are you trying to kiss me, Layla?” he rasps, flexing his fingers on my makeshift ponytail. He couldn’t tell? Blush rises to the surface and I know I’m glowing like a neon sign. Swallowing, I nod. “Yes.” He inches closer to me, still not touching—as impossible as that is—but infinitely closer. “You want to kiss me, Miss Robinson, you do it right.”

I rotate my hips, searching for that magical friction against the ridged planes of his body. Then I feel it—his erection against my upper tummy. It’s huge. Hard. A heated rod. It’s alive, and when I move against it, I feel it throb. A tortured moan rips out of his chest.
Thomas tears his mouth away from me and even my soul mourns the loss. We stare at each other, gasping for breath. I’m still clung around him and his cock is still nestled between our aroused bodies. I adjust my thigh around his hip, and it throbs with the small movement.
“Don’t fucking move,” he tells me, emphasizing it with a tug on my hair.

“I can do whatever I want with you and you’ll let me. Isn’t that right, Layla?” He licks his lips as if savoring his own words. “I can tell you to jump and you’ll ask how high. I can tell you to strip and you’ll strip as if your clothes are on fire.”
“Yes,” I moan.
He rewards me by grinding his muscular thigh and my cunt pulses. My lust-addled brain commands me to move, to chase the friction, and I do it. I slide up and down his maddening leg, digging my nails into his scalp as the pleasure mounts.
I feel the angry and rhythmic jerk of his cock on my stomach and I love it. I love the fact that I’ve shed all my inhibitions and am reduced to this, a lust-drunk puppet. I love that it gives Thomas pleasure. He isn’t sad anymore, or vulnerable.
Yes, I love all that.

“You want me to make you a grown-up, Miss Robinson?” His eyes smolder, and I’m glad I’ve got my arms around him or I would’ve dropped to the floor in a puddle. Something is so…weirdly erotic in that sentence.
I don’t have time to analyze it because he begins moving his hips, giving me that sweet friction, and Jesus fucking Christ, it’s the best thing I’ve ever experienced. The pressure is making my wounded pussy bleed cum.

“Fuck.” His agonized whisper brings my attention to his bowed head. I loosen my fingers from where I’ve been strangling the beautiful strands of his hair. “Your pussy is so tight, tighter than I ever imagined it to be, and I’ve imagined a lot.”
My breath evaporates as he looks up. He is aroused, flushed and sweating, yet he appears godlike. How’s that possible when he’s the one on his knees? He’s a beautiful, sexy god who has my sticky juices painted on his mouth and chin. It glistens in the yellow light like liquid fire.
“I’m not proud of it. I don’t want to think about it, but you tempt me, Layla, so fucking much. You make me feel crazy.”

“You think I hate you?” A short laugh escapes him, resembling the bark of an animal. “I don’t hate you, Layla,” he grits out. It sounds exactly like he hates me.
“So you like me?” I squeak.
My naïve question seems to have angered him more. His face is red, the vein on his neck bulging out. It’s scary.
“God, you make me so fucking mad.” He shakes his head. “Do you think this is a joke? Huh? Do you think we’re in high school? Do you think I’m going to kiss you and make out with you and take you to the movies or something? Is that what you think, Layla?”
“N-No.”
“Then what do you think is going on here?”
“I don’t…I don’t know.”

“You don’t get it, do you? I’m not a nice man, Layla,” he warns.
“I don’t believe that.” I fist his shirt tightly. “You’re just lonely, like me. Lonely and brokenhearted.” I let go of his shirt and caress his heated, chiseled jaw and cheeks. “You can touch me, Thomas. I won’t regret it, I promise.”
He shudders under my touch, as if coming apart. This is the most vulnerable I’ve seen him. But then he steels himself, goes rigid. I’m afraid he’ll push me back and send me away, but he hauls my body flush with his.
“Don’t make promises you can’t keep.” He breathes over my lips.
“When you regret this—and I know you will—just remember that you asked for it.”

He walks closer to me; putting his hand on my cheek, he tips my face up and makes me stare at his gaze. I see desire lurking there and my heart skips a beat.
He wants me. So fucking much.
As if to prove it, he leans down and resumes kissing me. This time it’s even hungrier and more urgent, if that’s possible. I lean into his clothed body, my skin brushing over the warm fabric. It makes me wet and horny and so powerless that I’m exposed and he’s not. It makes me feel like a slut. His slut. Horny and shameless.

I arch under him, making his cock throb between us, and he clenches his teeth. He grabs a chunk of my hair in his fists and stares down at me. There’s anger and satisfaction in his eyes. “You can’t stay still, can you? You can’t stop tempting me for one fucking second.”
“No, I can’t,” I admit. “I don’t know how.”
“You’re always hungry, Layla. Always starving.” He rocks into me, drags his weighty arousal against my stomach, and blows a breath into the nape of my neck. “Why’s that? Huh? Why are you such a cock-hungry girl?”
I moan at his dirty words. God, he’s such a poet, speaking filthy poetry to me.

“Do you like that?” he asks.
I swallow and moan, “Yes.”
“I’ve thought about you like this,” he says in the thinnest of whispers. “Under me, naked and desperate. You moan when I touch you like this but I tell you to be quiet. I tell you to keep it in because I want to hear something else.” He presses his thumb and I bob under the pressure. His erection jostles, reminding me that I’m stuffed full of him.
“Do you know what I want to hear, Layla?” The pressure on my clit increases and I can’t keep the moan inside.
“Thomas… Oh God.”
“Shh. Tell me, do you know?” When I shake my head, he clarifies, “The poem you wrote for me.”

My desire ups with every slide and I forget about the pain. I wrap my legs around his waist and bring him closer. Thomas speeds up his thrusts until he’s slamming into me, grunting like a man possessed.
“Oh God. Oh God. Oh God,” I chant as his hips smash into mine, as his balls slap against my ass. I am sobbing with every jab.
Thomas has gone speechless as he stares down at me, at my rebounding breasts. He is feeding off my moans, my pleasure, my restlessness like a demon. My desperation spurs him on as I meet him stroke for stroke.

Thomas drops his head on my shoulder, his thrusts erratic. It’s a mad race to his own climax, the jerky movements, the rotation of his hips—and then it all stops. Orgasming, he throws his head back, exposing his neck.
I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything more beautiful than this, than him. I’ve never heard anything more melodic than his animalistic grunts.

Thomas brings his hand over to my cheek and tries to wipe the salty water away, but I’m filled to the brim with emotions. God, I hurt so much right now. For Thomas. For myself.
“So you see,” he whispers over my lips, ghosting the wet, soft flesh over my plump, salty ones. “You can fall out of love if you’re in love with someone like me.”
As he hauls me even closer and fuses his lips with mine, I can only think of one thing. If I ever fell in love with Thomas Abrams, I’d never fall out of it.

“Caleb wouldn’t do that, would he?” He adjusts the waistband of the useless material so that it cuts into the soft flesh just above my knees. “He’d stop if you asked him to, but who am I, Layla? What’s my name?”
“Thomas,” I answer, quivering as he circles his hot hands along the back of my thighs. My frozen insides begin to melt under his touch. The cold has no meaning, no power over me.
“Yeah.” He rumbles, as if pleased. My breaths shake with the pleasure in his voice. “I won’t stop even if you beg me to. I’ll make you strip in the cold, put you on your knees on the ground and fuck you till I fill you up.”

“You’re so fucking wet.” He bites the juncture of my neck and shoulders, then soothes the sting with his tongue. “Ask to suck my cock.” Another whisper followed by another bite on the neck and a lick of his tongue. He is running his finger up and down my pussy before sliding under the fabric to play with my wet hole, but he never makes contact with my tight bud. He doesn’t give me relief.
“Come on, Layla. Beg me.” The need in his voice supersedes the need in me, and I’ll do anything for him. I’ll forget about my own pleasure and suck his cock, just so I can feel him pulsing on my tongue.

“This is what happens, Layla.” His speech is both slurred and cutting at the same time. “This is what happens when you do something I specifically told you not to. This is what happens when you strut in here in your short skirt and purple fucking coat and give me those big, violet eyes.”
He is panting, keeping up the punishing pace that feels anything but punishing. It feels…intimate, out of control, desperate, and I love it. Every inch of my body loves it. My thighs shake as he predicted they would. My breasts dangle heavy and full, and my tattoo burns bright on my stomach.
“You make me do this.” He rolls his hips, making my eyes water with the pressure. “You make me abuse your mouth.”

“Remember when I told you I’ll set you on fire and won’t even look back?” He strokes my sweaty hair and whispers in my ear, “That’s how I’ll do it, while fucking your ass. I’ll pour the gasoline, light the match, and watch you burn, Layla—and trust me, you’re going to love it. I’m going to ruin you for every other man out there and you’re going to love every second of it.”
God. God. I think I’m dead. I’m in heaven and hell. In another stratosphere. I’m everywhere. He has shattered me with his dark promises, broken me, and I don’t think I’ll ever be pieced back together. “Not today though.” He moves away, one hand on the nape of my neck, keeping me down.
“No. Today I’m going to show you something else. Today I’m going to show you how I burn.”

“Rub your clit. I want you to get yourself off.”
All thoughts evaporate at his commanding voice and I do as he says. I flick my clit and play with my puffy nipples.
“This is what I think about,” he bites. “It doesn’t even matter if you’re around. This. Bursting every door down so I can get to your pussy. All I can think about is fucking you, Layla. All the time. Every time. You’re in my fucking blood, and I’ll tear apart anyone who dares to fucking touch you.”
That’s when I come. My body strains, goes rigid as I come at his confession—a confession that seems to be torn out of his very soul.

I tip up my chin and open my legs, ready for him. Thomas clenches his jaw and in one stroke, jams his cock inside me. I nearly come off the desk, my nails skating along the hard wood. Gasping, I go back down and grab the edge to brace myself, because in the next second, I’m in danger of flying off and crashing to the ground.
His slams are punishing. Brutal. Borderline violent. My teeth chatter with every stroke. My breasts heave and rebound. His grip on my thighs is going to leave marks, I know it, but most of all, it’s the obvious pain of his hip bone hitting the desk that jars me. He is punishing himself as much as he’s punishing me.

He frames my face with his hands so I have nowhere to look but him. “Do you hear those sounds, Layla?” he whispers thickly. “That’s me talking to your pussy.” Then he changes angles, holds himself inside me, rotating his hips, bucking up and down, hitting me in just the right spot. In turn, I hear the sloppy gurgling of my core, a slightly different tone than the previous sounds, wetter and angrier.
“And that’s your pussy telling me she likes it, saying she loves to feel me inside her.” He stops grinding at that and starts ramming with a savage force that doesn’t let either of us breathe. Sweat drips from his forehead, plopping onto mine. “That’s all the talking we need to do. That’s all the fucking talking we ever need to do.”

“Why aren’t you in New York?”
“Because I have to tell you something.”
“Wh-What?”
“You’re beautiful, you know that?” he says, instead of answering my question. Somehow his voice shivers too, a rumbly sort of vibration that I feel in my tattoo. He lets go of the door frame and crowds me, forcing me to take a step back.
He brings his other hand to cup my cheek. His fingers tremble over my skin and I put my hand over them to give them stability. “Thomas, please, tell me what’s going on.”
His Adam’s apple jumps up and down. “No, that’s…that’s not right. You’re not beautiful. I think you’re the most exquisite thing I’ve ever seen.” He licks his lips, his eyes flitting back and forth. “No, not a…not a thing. You’re more than that, Layla. You’re…the poem I can never write. Yeah, you’re the piece of poetry I can never hope to finish, no matter how hard I try.”

He keeps sliding his cock in, and I swear I hear the muscles stretching, peeling away from each other. Oh God. Tears form as I breathe through my nose, trembling with pain.
This was a bad idea. Bad. Bad. Bad.
“Shh…” Thomas caresses my spine with his other arm, trying to soothe my skittish body. “It’s gonna be okay. It’s gonna be okay. I’ll take care of you.”
“Is it…all in?” I whimper.
“No, baby, not yet.” He whooshes out a long breath. His strong thighs vibrate against the back of mine, telling the tale of his control and exertion.
That slip of his tongue, that casually thrown in endearment makes me open my eyes and look at him. Every hollow and crevice of his body stands taut and highlighted. He appears to be made of stone. My fire-breather. My stone god.

He falls over me as his cock pushes out hot cum. I sigh under his delicious weight and we lie in the puddle of our orgasms. His shuddering chest bumps with my back, his arm thrown over my shoulder. I smell his skin, nuzzle my face in the coarse hair of his forearm. His sighs scatter the hair on my neck.
For the first time in a long time, I feel sleepy on my bed. I don’t need the hard surface of the bathtub. My eyes are on the verge of falling shut when I hear him whisper, almost distractedly, “You bring them back…my words.”

Purchase Links: Amazon

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Review: Punk 57 by Penelope Douglas

Format: E-Bookpunk57
Read with: Kindle Paperwhite
Length: Novel
Genre: New Adult
Series: Standalone
Publisher: Self-Published
Hero: Misha Lare
Heroine: Ryen Trevarrow
Sensuality: 4
Date of Publication: October 21, 2016
Started On: April 29, 2019
Finished On: May 05, 2019

It has been seven years since Misha and Ryen started corresponding via letters as part of a school project which had paired students from both classes. Misha and Ryen had continues on that path long after the school project  is over, and become each other’s confidante along the way. At the same time, both Misha and Ryen had steered clear of using any other mediums of communication, lest what was between them become less special.

All of that changes after one fateful night when Misha completely disappears, leaving Ryen worried, wondering what it is that had put a stop to their communication with one another. At the same time, the new student at school who goes by the name Masen Laurent is far from the “friendly” sort, who manages to stir up trouble in more ways than one. In fact, Masen goes out of his way to be hostile towards Ryen, bringing all her deepest and darkest insecurities to the forefront.

Masen/Misha is on a mission that he would not deviate from and if Ryen had turned out to be less than what he had perceived her to be in his mind; what Ryen had portrayed herself to be throughout their communications, Misha is determined to bring Ryen down from the high horse upon which she is perched. However, what both Misha and Ryen do not count on is the deep-seated attraction between them which refuses to die down, no matter what.

While I enjoyed Punk 57, I would not say that this was my favorite out of every Penelope Douglas novel that I have read thus far. I found the teenage angst and drama often distracting and at certain points, I was definitely rolling my eyes. But at the heart of it all, Penelope Douglas manages to tell a decent story and also surprised me with how she brought the twists and turns into it. Through it all, Penelope managed to create characters who stood out for various reasons, some being less favorable than others.

But at the end of the day it is about where you lead your characters or perhaps where they lead you. Ryen and Misha leads you to a good place in the end and that is what matters. Misha’s confrontation with his mother was the best thing about the story for me, something that I didn’t foresee coming. Those surprises in a novel where you least expect them are the best. The lyrics that Misha writes that were very much a part of the story were highlights too. I just wish I could listen to some of them for real.

Recommended for those who love teen angst in their romances. Penelope Douglas brings in her special magic to it which makes everything work.

Final Verdict: Misha and Ryen’s journey begins at a point where everything is fraught with the ugly bits life has to offer. With Penelope’s intuitive writing, it is hard not to be caught up in the magic the story delivers.

Favorite Quotes

She arches up on her hands, meeting me halfway as her hot, little breaths fan across my lips. Her eyes fall to my mouth.
“What does it feel like?” she asks quietly, reaching a timid finger out and touching my lip piercing.
I groan, challenging her. “You tell me.”
She locks eyes with me as if scared, but then her gaze falls again to the piercing. Opening her mouth just slightly, she darts out her tongue and flicks the ring.
I groan again, unable to keep my eyes from falling shut. The wet heat from that small spot filters across my face, down my neck, and swoops low in my stomach, making my fingers dig into the leather seats.

His eyes drop to my lips, and he leans in, both of our breaths turning shallow, and I can almost taste him.
I lick my lips.
And he loses it.
He reaches down, grabs the backs of my thighs and hauls me up, and I wrap my arms and legs around him, letting out a small whimper. Yes.
I part my lips, running them over the lip ring and savoring the feel as he groans and digs his fingers into my thighs. I tighten my legs around him, needing to feel him.
“Bitch,” he whispers.
“Loser.”
And when I dart out the tip of my tongue to lick the little piece of metal again, he’s done being patient.

“Oh, my God,” she whimpers. “Masen, no.”
“Why not?” I hold her jaw, trailing kisses across her cheek as I pump my fingers inside her. “You think your friends will hate you when they find out you’re a slut who loves getting finger-fucked on a floor.”
I slide my fingers all the way in and back out a few times in long, full strokes, before bringing them up and rubbing her clit. She moans, arching her back, and my cock strains against my jeans, begging to grow.
“Yes.” She licks my lip ring, rubbing her ass into my dick. “I’m afraid they’ll find out I like it.”

“You turn me on.” He cups my face, brushing my hair away from my eyes and a tear off my cheek. “God, you turn me on. You’re driving me crazy. I want you to need my hands on you. Do you?”
I hold his eyes, seeing the pleading in his. Seeing, for the first time, the need. He’s desperate to hear me say it.
And I know right then and there I want to be the only girl he ever looks at like that.

Grabbing my waist, he brings me in close, forcing me up higher on my knees so that my breast is level with his mouth.
“Masen,” I gasp as he grabs my left nipple between his teeth, sending shocks through my system and right down between my thighs. “Oh, my God, we can’t.”
But he sucks the whole damn thing into his mouth, and I grip his shoulders, my eyes flutter closed and not giving a damn that half our class is right outside.
“Yes,” I whimper, losing my breath and wrapping one arm around his neck, holding him closer.

He suddenly pulls away from me, and I look to see him pulling his shirt over his head. I briefly see the rest of the tattoos trailing up his arm and over his shoulder, as well as the few across his chest and stomach.
He pulls me to him again, pressing his chest against mine. “I want to feel your skin on mine.”
He palms my breast with one hand while slipping the other down the back of my shorts and squeezing my ass.
I gaze into his green eyes, both of us breathing hard, but I see him pause, as if he’s suddenly not sure about something. And all of a sudden, I’m not worried about getting caught. I’m worried about him stopping.
Don’t stop.

My chest rises and falls, the incredible feeling wracking through my body, up to my head and down to my feet.
Masen lowers his hand, palming my breast before letting go. He rises up and leans over me, putting a hand on the door behind me to hold himself up as he unbuttons his jeans. My heart picks up pace again.
His hard eyes stare down at me, filled with lust. “Take off the thong, or I’m ripping it off.”

He kisses me, and I barely have time to adjust to him before he pulls out and thrusts back in, stretching me so good.

“Oh, God.” The sounds of the movie play in the distance, and I hear the muffled voices of people not far off.
But all I see is him. His lips hovering over mine, his breath warming my skin, his fucking that’s getting harder and faster as he thrusts between my thighs.
I look up, seeing his hand still gripping the door, the muscles in his arms bulging and tight.
“Look at me,” he whispers.
I drop my eyes back down as I lick his piercing and hear him growl under his breath.

“Masen,” I beg, licking and biting his neck and feeling myself coming again. “It feels so good.”
He slides a hand under my ass and nestles in deeper, grunting as he fucks me rougher. I hear a noise underneath us, from the truck, and I cast a worried glance around. “Go slow!” I plead. “The truck…”
But he growls and comes down, kissing and biting my lips. I slide my hands down, gripping his ass and keeping him close, and he thrusts his dick inside me again and again.
“Yes, yes,” I moan over and over, feeling another orgasm crest as I taunt him with quick, little kisses.

“Show me what you do with it,” I beg.
Her eyes flash up to me, worry and nervousness written all over her face.
I glide my fingers over her hard nipples. “I’ll love everything you do. I promise.”
She shakes her head.
I grip her breast harder, a little whimper catching in her throat.
“Do it now,” I growl, demanding.
Her head falls back, and she squirms a little, clearly turned on, and I moan in her ear, my dick fucking solid.

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Review: Disturbing His Peace by Tessa Bailey

Format: E-bookdisturbinghispeace
Read with: Kindle Paperwhite
Length: Novel
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Series: The Academy, #3
Publisher: Avon
Hero: Greer Burns
Heroine: Danika Silva
Sensuality: 4
Date of Publication: April 24, 2018
Started On: December 18, 2018
Finished On: December 19, 2018

Disturbing His Peace by Tessa Bailey is the final book in The Academy series. From the moment Lieutenant Greer Burns entered the scene in the first book, I was a goner. He is the kind of character that I love to fall in love with. The broody and controlled heroes who when they unravel, do so so spectacularly that you cannot help but lose a chunk of yourself to them. Needless to say, I was impatient for Greer’s story (as I believe most readers would have been), and to finally read it and reaffirm the faith I have in Tessa Bailey’s ability to create stupendous stories that makes you laugh, turns you on so much, and delivers such emotionally grappling reads, is why I love her books so damn much.

Lieutenant Greer Burns is a man who is defined by his job. A hard-ass to the recruits, a man who is as by the book as they come, for whom the law exists only in black and white, and one would think that Greer to be so straitlaced that he would be boring. He is the farthest thing from that however, and it comes to light when the cracks appear on his demeanor with each encounter that takes place between him and recruit Danika Silva. There are tantalizing bits and pieces indicative of how Greer’s feelings are when it comes to Danika throughout the other books, something he tries his best to hide from.

Danika herself, even though she is drawn to all the intensity that is Greer, denies her feelings because she does not have a very favorable opinion of him. But all of that changes when she turns to Greer for help and discovers that there is more to Greer than that gruff and seemingly uncaring exterior of his. Help from Greer however comes at a price, which means that Danika is “forced” to spend more time with Greer, which of course leads to very interesting encounters between the two.

It should be no surprise that Disturbing His Peace turned out to be my favourite from the series. Greer is intense; no two ways about it. He is known as lieutenant hard- ass for a reason. He takes his job all too seriously believing that putting oneself out there makes one more vulnerable. After all, his childhood and abandonment issues has taught him that and more. The secret he harbors inside of his heart is one that he keeps even from his brother. And even though his brother found his happiness, Greer is certain that he himself is meant to spend his days by his lonesome self without subjecting himself to heartache and pain along the way, which is certain to come the minute he gives his heart to another. He lives by a strict code of ethics and rules, and nothing has deterred him from his chosen path until Danika shows up in his life.

Danika changes everything. She tests the limits of his self control unlike any other. Her opinion of him matters more than it should and for the very first time Greer finds himself in uncharted waters, navigating through the unknown for a woman who stops his very breathe. As much as Greer might tell himself that he does not need anyone, the course his life had been taking of late tells its own tale. Danika’s presence is one that takes away the unease and makes him content, if that were an emotion he was familiar with.

That takes me to the more serious matters such as how fantastically hot and out of the charts hot Greer is. Did I mention that he is hot? Yes, he is. There were moments that I had to remind myself to breathe because I kept forgetting how to, all because Greer was that intense. There is something about a controlled hero that lets loose. Every sexual encounter between Greer and Danika, from the shower scene to the round in the patrol car was insanely hot. And of course, Greer does dirty talking so very well that it is hard not to swoon during certain heated moments.

Danika was the kind of woman Greer needed. Definitely. She is snarky, has a big heart, and doesn’t know when taking on too much responsibility for her family becomes unhealthy. It is the way Greer looks out for her in the midst of everything that happens that lets the reader know that it is just much more than scorching hot sex that is between the two. The cuddle scene that happens on the couch, especially when there is so much tangible sexual tension between the two thick enough to slash through with a knife; that was cute and wholesome in a way that just made me fall that much more in love with Greer and Danika.

Definitely recommended. Fans of Tessa Bailey certainly would not be disappointed.

Final Verdict: Greer is sheer perfection presented to readers; a tightly controlled hot mess unraveling in a way that makes your insides heat up and your heart melt! Tessa Bailey’s magic knows no bounds.

Favorite Quotes

I allow my mouth to brush those curls at her ears, the sensation dropping my voice to a scrape of sound. “I’m talking about fucking you, baby. You know I am.” My tongue must have a mind of its own, because it licks along the rim of her ear, my memory collecting the whimper she makes and locking it away in a safe. “Tucked back in the showers, your legs open for my thrusts, blood running down my back from where your nails are digging in. Bet that would warm you right the hell up.”

Resolving to walk slowly toward the pizza place, I open the door—
“Oh my God,” I gasp, my walloping heart sending me back a step. “What . . .”
Greer is standing in the hallway, watching me with shadows in his eyes.
Rain drips off the folded edges of his NYPD beanie and fingertips. He’s so still I almost think my imagination is putting
him there, but then he speaks in a clipped tone.
“Cancel it.”
My . . . date? Oh yeah. He’s talking about my date, and there’s no denying the indignation that fires to life inside of me.
I don’t care if I’m attracted to this man. He doesn’t just get to show up and order me around. On a Saturday night, no less.
We’re not in the academy gym right now—we’re on the threshold of my house.
Then why am I so excited?

“Yes or no. Do you want to be convinced?” Finally, just a hint of his lips brush mine, and the answering, down-low clench
is so intense, I almost hit the deck. “Understand this. I’m going to do it my way, Danika. And I’m only figuring out what
this way is now—with you—because I think you love it. Need it.” A single blunt finger lifts and traces my right hip, moving
up my rib cage and detouring toward my breasts, raking over each hard nipple slowly. “Think you’d love some rough goddamn
convincing, wouldn’t you, baby? Yes or no?”
This new need he stirred to life isn’t my secret. He’s known. “Yes.”

“Move your knees apart,” I growl, pushing my middle finger inside her, pumping it a few times, as she follows the order. Then
a few more times, because I can’t believe the tightness waiting for me. “This has been mine for months, hasn’t it?”
Her choked cry, the tilt of her hips, is the only answer I need.
“It’s a good thing I didn’t know, baby, or I wouldn’t have been able to help myself. All those times you showed up early would
have been spent in my office, riding my cock.”

Something about my question upsets him. His eyebrows draw together, his grip tightening anew on my wrist. “Get back in your
goddamn seat.”
“No.” Whew. I must be out of my mind. Anyone with working brain cells can see he’s about to get tough with me. Reject me.
Hurt my feelings out of necessity. But something tells me I’ll never get another chance to see under his exterior if I don’t
rip it down right now. So before he can open his mouth and deliver whatever lie he’s thinking, I kiss him.
And we go up in flames.

I decide to stop exploring it when she flicks her hips back, grinds back down. Does it again. Does it again. Until my fucking
thighs and hands are shaking, my mouth open and growling at her neck. Every ounce of my focus goes into hunting a condom down
in my pocket and covering myself, before reaching down between our bodies and guiding my cock to her heat. “Wet girl. Nice
wet girl.”
She arches her back and spreads her legs, allowing me to slip myself inside her inch by inch . . . and as she sinks down,
I barely recognize the sensation because nothing that came before her compares. Made for me. I’m made just for her. All of
the above.
“Oh God,” we both moan at the same time.

On my shoulder, she shakes her head no. “Greer, oh, I’m going to—” She breaks off on a closed mouth scream, her thighs trembling
around my hand. “Greer.”
I think I can hold it together long enough to give her another orgasm, but as soon as her pussy cinches around my dick like
a belt, I know resisting the rush of pleasure is a pipe dream. “Goddammit, baby. Ripping it right out of me, aren’t you?”
There’s a scraping feeling deep in my belly, then I’m shouting into her hair as the most phenomenal relief grips me. I’m coming
inside her. Finally. Finally. It hurts, but it’s happening . . . and then it doesn’t hurt anymore, because the worst of the
lust is leaving me, shooting up the stalk of my flesh. “You’re killing me. Don’t stop. Move. Move. Don’t stop.”
My body continues to ram up, up into her snug, clenching cunt until my fucking vision goes black. Mine. The word echoes in my head, but my teeth snap down on my lower lip to keep from saying it out loud.

I slide between Greer and the coffee table, intending to park myself beside him on the couch, but he snags me by the waist
and draws me down on his lap. There are a few charged seconds where neither one of us moves, but the pace of our breathing
goes haywire. I struggle not to moan when he plants his open mouth against my ear and hums, the vibration going straight through
me. “I figured we could find out what all this cuddle talk is about.”
“Is there a lot of talk?” I wheeze the question, and I don’t even blame myself. Who could think straight with the hot muscular
flex of his thighs under their butt?

I lay my head down on his shoulder and take a deep inhale of his skin. No-nonsense soap, sweat, spearmint gum. It doesn’t
feel like our first time cuddling in terms of how our bodies curve together. But the beating of his heart against my shoulder,
the steady rise and fall of his bare chest, is so new. Up close, I can see all the individual hairs on his chest, the dark
whorls of them that grow concentrated at his belly button and vanish below my hip. His erection is tucked between the cheeks
of my ass, but he seems determined to pet every inch of me, and I’m totally content to let him. He’s so warm.
A yawn catches me off guard, but I shake myself to keep my eyelids from drooping. “What’s your verdict on cuddling?”
His sigh shifts my hair around. “I think I’m fucked.”

“Get that tiny fucking thong off,” I growl, even though there’s no way I can wait that long. No, as soon as I drag my dick
out of her mouth, I’m yanking those panties sideways and thrusting into her soaked pussy. She screams in my ear, her nails
sinking like razors into my back. My heart stutters at the possibility that I hurt her with my aggression, but I’m reassured
when her knees dig into my sides. Like a rider spurring on a horse. Only I’m the one riding her. And I do it hard. “When you
got into a cab and rattled off my address in your little, pink shirt dress, you knew this is what you were going to get, didn’t
you? A hard cock between your thighs. Didn’t you, baby?”
“Yes. Oh my God. Yes.”

Stop moving,” I rasp, my stomach tightening. “I’m too goddamn close.”
“It’s okay,” she whimpers, definitely pulling me deep again and grinding her hips up, her heels finding a home at the small
of my back. “I never miss my pill. Please.”
Relief blinds me like two headlights, along with the impulse to fuck her until the pain is gone. “I’m clean.”
“Me, too.” She sobs, those nails burying in the flesh of my ass. “Greer.”
“Hold on to me.”
In the end, I can’t tell who is holding on to whom. Our bodies are flush, sweaty and racing to the finish. I bury my face
in the crook of her neck with a guttural groan, my hips pump hard, fast, almost angrily. I’ve never moved in such perfect
rhythm with anyone. Not even myself. I’m better with her. We’re better together.

His low growl makes me shudder. “My girl.” That open palm zings against my backside. “Mine.” The next strike is harder, and
he massages the spot afterward, his touch gentle, and the contradiction is so perfectly Greer, I hear myself asking for more.
More Greer. “Show me some pussy,” he rasps. “Before you go strutting what belongs to me around, give your man a nice look.”
Lord. Oh Lord. My vision is a blur now, but my muscles are still functioning for the most part. Keeping my cheek pressed to
the table, I loosen my back and angle my hips. And that most sensitive part of me gets the next slap. Whap. I’m so shocked,
I release a cut-off scream that gets louder when his huge erection rams home inside of me. Pleasure explodes in my middle.
My orgasm is an earthquake, sending cracks down the center of my foundation. Beneath me, the table vibrates, thanks to my
juddering body.

“I’m fucking yours, you know that?” He drops hot, panting kisses beneath my ear. “I just want to be yours, Danika.”
“You are.” I clench my teeth and sail over the edge again. “Greer.”
“God, baby. Fuck.”
I’m hurtling so fast and hard into pleasure, I’m barely aware of his mouth leaving my neck, but when I hear him shout a broken
curse, when I feel heat inside me and that final, rough thrust, something primal comes alive inside me. Something I think
Greer woke up.
Damn right I satisfy my man.
I love it. I love me with him. Us together.

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