a look at ‘Digger’ by Lynn Burke #Erotic #MC Romance @AuthorLynnBurke @evernightpub

Digger
Fallen Gliders #3
Publisher: Evernight Publishing
Artwork: Jay Aheer, Simply Defined Art
Heat Level: 4
Keywords: MC Romance, Contemporary, Erotic

Be Warned: menage sex (MFM), anal sex, double penetration, bondage


Digger is one badass bastard hell-bent on protecting his Fallen brothers–no matter the cost. He’s also ugly as shit, scarred for life by one of the men who gang-raped his mother. Born of violence and only wanted by women for his massive cock, he lives an unfulfilled life while secretly yearning for more.

Maci Irving is his opposite, a kind-hearted soul who wants to care for everyone she meets. She’s also one of his brother’s flavors of the month. Fuck the world, and fuck the dark sedan tailing him everywhere he goes—once he claims a taste of her he’ll do everything he can to keep her.

With his heart in her hands, can he convince Maci to stay with him and become his old lady, or will his violent lifestyle and its consequences end up to be more than she can bear?
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EXCERPT:
“Capone said you could make me forget my own name,” she whispered while running her hands up over my chest.
My pecs flexed on their own beneath her firm touch. “Is that what you want?”
Lower lip sucking between her teeth, she nodded. Wetness coated her eyes, and fuck the goddamn ache that knifed through my chest. “You’re sure?”
“Yes,” she whispered, pressing closer so her pussy rested against my straining cock.
Fuck, did she tempt me like no other woman I’d gotten my hands on. What she needed was rest, strong arms to hold her close as she slept.
I slipped my hand up over the back of her tight t-shirt, beneath her silken hair to hold her nape. “If you want to stop, just say so, and you have my word that we will.”
She leaned in and kissed me.
Mind fucking blown.
Soft and pliant, sweet yet minty … goddamn did I fall under the beautiful witch’s spell. Rather than take control and plunder the ever-loving shit out of her mouth, I held back, tracing my tongue along her lips rather than fucking her mouth. She opened to me with a sigh, and I gently threaded my fingers through her hair, angling her head.
My arm banded around her back, tugging her closer until her pert tits pressed against me. Slow rolls of my hips against her pussy tightened my balls and made her whimper against my lips.
Two pairs of fucking jeans in our way … and my brother I’d forgotten about.
I tore my mouth from Maci’s. Eyes hazed over, she stared at me, swollen lips parted.
Capone sat back in my chair, legs spread, hand sliding over his bulge, a smirk on his face. Fucker loved to watch almost as much as he loved to get his dick wet.
I massaged the back of Maci’s head and wiped the moisture off her lower lip with my thumb, torn over doing the right thing by taking a rain check until she was in a better frame of mind.
She flicked her tongue out, and I slid my thumb into her mouth without thought.
Goddamn. I groaned as she swirled her tongue and sucked. My cock jerked, and she ground her pussy against me. “Christ, woman.” Swallowing back another groan, I grabbed her ass in my palms and stood. Fuck it. I’d give her exactly what she wanted and then some. I just had to trust she’d stop us if it was too much.
Maci wrapped her legs around me as though they belonged there.
I nodded toward the hallway, and Capone hopped out of his chair to lead the way. He dimmed the lights as I knelt on the bed, sliding Maci to the center. She clung to me, but I pulled back onto my haunches.
Pale hair spread over my pillows, pulse in her neck fluttering, eyes wide and filled with need. The desire to see her like that every day of my fucking life welled over me like a nine-foot wave.
Should have freaked me the fuck out. Shouldn’t have enjoyed the satisfaction sizzling through my blood. Mentally, I pulled back, telling myself to keep my suspicions in place. Keep myself safe from rejection.
“You’re fucking perfect,” I said, running my fingers up her thighs, over her hip bones, under her shirt. Her nipples pressed against the thin fabric, tight buds calling out for attention. I palmed her tits beneath her shirt, and she arched into my touch, lower lip once more between her teeth.
“You like my hands on you.”
“God, yes.” She gasped as I rolled both nipples between my fingers.
“Capone?” I scooted back and flicked the button on her jeans as my brother climbed onto the bed and took over where I’d left off with her tits.
Maci gasped as he closed his mouth over her nipple, t-shirt and all, grasping the back of his head to hold him close.
 A muscle in my jaw flinched to see his mouth on her, but our time together was for her pleasure, fulfilling one of her fantasies—not getting my balls twisted with jealousy.
She doesn’t belong to you, I told myself while sliding down her zipper.
Yet, another voice whispered in my head, clenching my jaw.
© Lynn Burke 2018

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Lynn Burke is a full time mother, voracious gardener, and scribbler of spicy romance stories. A country bumpkin turned Bay Stater, she enjoys her chowdah and Dunkin Donuts when not trying to escape the reality of city life.

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a look at ‘Don’t Let Go’ by Lynn Burke #Contemporary #Romance #BDSM @AuthorLynnBurke @changelingpress

Don’t Let Go

Darkest Desires #1

Publisher: Changeling Press
Keywords:  BDSM, Silver Fox, MayDecember, EroticRomance, FemDom, Domme, Contemporary, Novella, Series


Troy Jenner’s ex called his desire to be dominated sick. Divorced, shamed, and stripped bare of his assets, Troy is gifted a three day pass to Monique’s, Baltimore’s elite sex club. He hopes to discover the depths of his desires, not fall for the Domme with a turbulent past in her eyes.
Barista by day, Mistress by night, Jaycie Atkins is the Domme assigned to fulfill submissive’s fantasies of pain with pleasure. To conquer her childhood trauma, she learned to be powerful and prudent. Always giving, never receiving. Always in control — until Troy’s grateful groans after every whip of her flogger threaten to slip past her Domme defenses. The warmth in his eyes tempting her to trust him like no other.
Will Troy’s patience and persistence in breaking down her walls pay off, or will he be forced to accept the fact Mistress will never let go and give him the collar and second chance at love he longs for?
PURCHASE LINKS: 
EXCERPT:
I knelt in the middle of the dungeon-like room as I’d seen on the countless BDSM websites I’d been studying the past month, exactly like they’d shown us new subs at the introduction class the evening before. Butt naked, dick already at half-mast because I finally had the chance to explore the darkness inside of me that had killed my ten-year marriage.
As CEO of a prominent software company, I took pride in my self-control and stoic nature. Being a bastard had gotten me up the rung to where I sat comfortably behind a glass desk with windows overlooking Baltimore’s skyline. It had also earned me a nasty divorce a year earlier when my ex-wife took over half of what we owned, leaving me with a broken heart and near-empty bank accounts. At least a constant work load since then had gotten me closer to where I’d been before she’d attempted to wipe me out.
I studied my hands resting on my bare thighs. Springy hair tickled my palms. While the hair on my body remained a dark blond, the previous two years of hell had shot gray through the thick strands on my head and the scruff I couldn’t keep from lining my jaw.
Forty-three and already fucking gray. Wouldn’t help my chance at dating — if I ever got the balls to put myself out there again. I’d been celibate for over a year. Dead inside, unable to give two shits about anything but work, unable to get it up, too. I also didn’t have the energy to get involved, let alone think of dating.
Familiar exhaustion tugged on my eyelids, and I let them close while waiting for the Domme the club’s owner had booked me with for the night — Mistress Jaycie. A woman I’d never met, a woman I was going to let control me in whatever way she wanted.
Time to give over. Time to explore my lust for pain and hopefully float into that mysterious subspace I’d been reading about.
My dick twitched at the thought of pure, empty-headed euphoria.
Would the Domme I’d been paired with have a heavy hand? Would she be beautiful? Did I even care? I just wanted — craved — submission, the type that would erase the shit in my mind for a while and maybe get my rocks off.
My ex had been vanilla, same as I’d always been, and when I got the urge to introduce something new in the bedroom, she’d looked at me with disgust. Hell, I’d only suggested handcuffs and ropes, hoping she’d agree so we could eventually move on to what I really wanted.
No such fucking luck.
I breathed deep and exhaled my thoughts along with the lungful of used-up air. The silence coating the dim, private scening room at Monique’s club in downtown Baltimore soothed me. Even if it turned out the BDSM lifestyle wasn’t for me, I’d at least have gotten to experience a semi-hard dick again.
A click sounded as the door opened, and I kept my head and gaze lowered as I’d been instructed in the class. Awareness crept over my skin like an electrical charge as heels clicked on hardwood. My heartbeat accelerated. The subtle scent of oranges hit my nose as black leather stiletto boots came into my line of sight.
Hot as fuck. I bit back my groan as my cock thickened. I swallowed against sudden nervousness, something I hadn’t experienced since my teenage years.
“Hmm…” she murmured. The boots rounded to my left, disappearing in my periphery. “On your feet, slave.” Her low, husky voice prickled my skin, bringing my dick to full attention.
I rose with as much grace as I could, hands at my sides, erection sticking up close to my navel.
A soft inhale tickled my ears as I straightened completely.
I knew what she saw — what she probably didn’t expect for a man teetering on the brink of the downslope from his prime. Daily yoga, running, and weight training kept my body looking the same as it had at twenty-five.
Something tailed down my backbone and across the top of my ass cheeks, lacking the warmth of skin. Crop? Cane? The urge to know made me want to shift my stance, but I held still.
She rounded to the right and stopped in front of me.
From my height, most of her body came into view even though I kept my head lowered. The black leather of her boots hugged defined calves, stopping just above her knees. A good twelve inches of smooth, pale skin gave way to a tight leather skirt — also black — over flared hips, ending at her tiny waist. She held a crop in her right hand.
My dick actually jumped, bumping my abs.
I glanced up through my lashes, filling my eyes with the corset-cinched tits threatening to spill over the top. The milky-white globes set my mouth to watering.
“You will call me Mistress.”
© Lynn Burke 2018

ABOUT LYNN BURKE:
Lynn Burke is a full time mother, voracious gardener, and scribbler of spicy romance stories. A country bumpkin turned Bay Stater, she enjoys her chowdah and Dunkin Donuts when not trying to escape the reality of city life.

a look at ‘Hawk’ by Lynn Burke #Erotic #MCRomance @AuthorLynnBurke @evernightpub

HAWK, FALLEN GLIDERS #2
is now available!

Hawk
Fallen Gliders #2
Publisher: Evernight Publishing
Artwork: Jay Aheer, Simply Defined Art
Projected Release Date: July 26, 2018
Keywords: MC Romance, Contemporary, Erotic, May/December

*Be warned: Spanking, anal sex


As a member of the Fallen Gliders, bad boy biker Hawk Richards tends to use his fists first and has fucked his way through the club whores. Life has been a never ending supply of bikes, women, and beer. When his brother hands in his colors, Hawk is sworn in as the new Sergeant at Arms and struggles to find meaning in the club and his existence. Until her.

Janie is curvy as fuck and the sweetest thing Hawk has ever seen. The young woman with the joy of life in her eyes is everything he’s been missing, everything he’s ever wanted. When the little butterfly falls into his arms, he wonders if someone might finally look beyond his ink and reputation to see the man hiding underneath.

Janie’s life has always been a roller coaster, and even though she’s flying high with Hawk, she knows a crash is inevitable. The last thing she wants is for him to be burdened with picking up the pieces. But how can she resist him? His touch makes her burn, and every minute in his bed intensifies her craving for more.

Can Hawk convince Janie he wants her for the long haul, or will the secret she keeps tear him from her side forever?




EXCERPT:

We’d been in Sturgis for almost a week, and I hadn’t fucked a single woman. My outlook on life sucked the previous couple of months, to the point the thought of having my cock shoved down a willing throat or burying myself balls-deep in some random cunt didn’t even twitch my dick. I felt like a wind-blown leaf with no sense of purpose, no desire for sex or companionship. I’d taken to drinking harder stuff than my usual beer but knew the slump I floundered in wouldn’t end well unless I decided to pick my ass up and figure out my life.
Perhaps today’s the day, I told myself, picking up the shot of whiskey our waitress sat in front of me.
A flash of red-brown hair drew my gaze to the far left before I could pop out the toothpick and down my drink. A little butterfly with gray-green eyes flashing along with her wide smile. Dimple, full lips, high cheekbones—a fucking model in a tight tank and Daisy Dukes.
My cock thickened inside my leather pants, and my head turned as she slowly passed by the picture window, her face animated and lips moving as she chatted with her friends, the joyful gleam in her eyes snaring me tight. She radiated life, an exuberant, light step while I wallowed in my shit life.
Jealousy and yearning for what she experienced clenched my chest, and I found myself rubbing a hand over tattooed pecs I spent hours sculpting on a daily basis.
The little butterfly passed beyond the window, and I sat back, not realizing I’d leaned forward to keep her in sight.
“Finally see something worth fucking?” Jonny asked with an elbow to my ribs.
“Fuck, yeah. Reddish hair—not the dyed kind—and tits out to here,” I said around my toothpick, holding my hand out a few inches away from my chest. “Young and full of life.”
One of Jonny’s eyebrows rose. “What the fuck you sitting here for?”
I hesitated to glance around the group of men—fellow Fallen Gliders from across the States, discussing the lighter aspect of business. A large meeting had taken place the night before, the heads of the chapters sitting down to discuss the future of our club. Just more depressing shit to pile on life.
“Go on,” Jonny encouraged, elbowing me again.
 I hopped off my stool and pushed my way through the crowd for the front door. At six-foot-five, I had no trouble seeing over most of the heads bobbing to my right as I stepped out onto the sidewalk.
The roar of mufflers and cranking music from Christ knew where filled my ears as I breathed in the scents of exhaust, sweat, and cheap perfume in the night air. I took a half-dozen steps to the right, scanning the crowd of people on the sidewalk in front of me before pulling up short. No fucking way I was going to find her unless I acted like an asshole and shoved people out of my way while hurrying the way she’d gone.
Curses flew from my lips while I turned back toward the bar. A voice in my head sang a country hit, reminding me that if we were meant to be, it’d be.
“No fucking luck?” Jonny asked as I slumped back onto the stool.
My scowl sufficed for an answer.
Tipping back my head for the whiskey burn didn’t help my shit mood. Neither did the bloody burger and pile of fries fifteen minutes later. Thoughts of the little butterfly warred with depression in my mind, and I called it an early night, leaving my brothers behind. The quietness of the hotel didn’t offer anything but a hot shower where I could blow the load that had been building in my balls for weeks.
At least I had a semi-purpose … find the vivacious little butterfly and steal some of her joy in life for myself.
© Lynn Burke 2018

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Other books in this series:

ABOUT LYNN BURKE:
Lynn Burke is a full time mother, voracious gardener, and scribbler of spicy romance stories. A country bumpkin turned Bay Stater, she enjoys her chowdah and Dunkin Donuts when not trying to escape the reality of city life.

LINKS: