Here’s a second excerpt from A Paratrooper in a Pear Tree
Destiny Driven hasn’t used her real name in forever. It doesn’t exactly inspire professional confidence if you sound like a stripper. When she’s ordered to “sex up” former bestselling author Angel Robinson’s latest manuscript, armed with whips, cuffs, “classic” (who knew?) porn DVDs, that hits a little close to home. So Destiny heads to a remote cabin in Healey, Alaska.
Deployed to fight an inferno, Master Parachutist Lincoln Chapman’s veers off course, his chute fails, and his reserve opens at the 10,000 mark. The paratrooper lands in the pear tree adjacent to Destiny’s cabin. The man’s massive and unconscious. The cabin’s cold and isolated, and Destiny’s no girl scout. Then Linc wakes to Destiny’s Madonna features, stripper body, sex toys, and 70’s porn DVDs.
Just as they’re trying to leave, electricity fizzles. There’s only one way to stay warm. Luckily they have all the supplies they need.
A Paratrooper in a Pear Tree – excerpt:
“Did you know your bottom lip reflects your thoughts?” Linc’s thumb grazed the seam of her mouth. “Now, for instance, you’re having some sort of inner debate. Your lips start to curl at the corners, then flatten; then this bottom one pouts the tiniest bit.” His palm cradled her face, “What’s worrying you, Destiny Driven?”
“Work,” she replied, rolling a shoulder. “I should’ve called a lawyer yesterday, but I was soooo mad. I chopped that duck in half in one blow.”
He threw his head back and roared with laughter.
She poked him in the ribs. “I don’t see what’s so funny.”
“I wished I’d seen that blow,” he muttered a few seconds later. “Remind me never to get in the way of you and a knife.”
“I imagined it was Juanita’s scrawny neck.” Destiny gave him a light smack on the chest. “Too bad the duck overcooked.”
“Overcooked? Charcoaled is a more apt description.” He blocked her attempted chop by capturing her hands. “Uncle, uncle. It was entirely my fault. If I hadn’t distracted you—”
“Distracted?” She squealed. “A commercial is distracting. An errant comma is distracting. That’s distracting,” she said, her eyes dropping to his penis. “That’s distracting. Covering my…my vagina.” Her cheeks fired, and she sputtered to a stop.
“Vagina, Baby Doll? We gotta do something about your vocabulary.” He waggled his eyebrows. “Orange-flavored pussy became my favorite dish two hours ago. And there’s no more referring to my dick as a penis.”
“It is,” she said, her tone insistent.
“This”—he rested her hand on his arousal—“is a manly dick, not a girlie penis. And this”—he slipped his hand between her legs—“is my personal pussy paradise. Mmmm, wet already; I’m dreaming of dessert.” He licked the seam of her mouth.
“No way, Linc Chapman. I have plans for the rest of the night. When the pizza gets here, we’re putting in a DVD.”
“DVD? Baby Doll, I doubt any movie’s gonna hold my attention tonight. I’m thinking of strategic places for olives and pepperoni.”
“Not even Deep Throat? Or The Devil in Miss Jones? And acting out a scene I pick? One where you wrap your hands around the headboard slats and let me taste you.” She arched a brow. “Everywhere.”
The door intercom buzzed, and Destiny cupped a hand over her mouth, but a few giggles escaped. A wave of expressions crisscrossed his face; he stared at her mouth, then his dick, then let out a long, tortured groan. “You’re going to kill me, Baby Doll. And hell if I’m not going to enjoy every single minute.”
“Pizza,” she said.
“I’ll get it. The porn’s—”
“On your side of the closet,” she quipped. “I noticed you’d unpacked when I got home. I’ll get it.” Reaching to the other side of the bed, she reached for the T-shirt he’d taken off earlier.
“Uh-uh. If I’m going to be tortured, I fully intend to enjoy the view. Don’t even think about putting that on.”
The minute he left the room, Destiny snagged the outrageous lingerie—as if wisps of fabric could actually be termed clothes—she’d hidden in a drawer. When Lincoln hollered from the kitchen, she jumped.
“Wine or Coke, Baby Doll?”
“Wine,” she answered, figuring liquid courage might come in handy.
She took up a pose on the bed, cheek propped on a palm, one hand draped over a hip.
The dresser mirror reflected her wearing a feather boa and a winking stick-on fake ruby in her navel. Red lipstick completed the outfit, and she’d painted her toenails and fingernails scarlet earlier.
Lincoln’s jaw dropped, and he bumped into the door frame when he caught sight of her.
His brows raised. He swallowed a couple of times, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “Jesus. I’m a goner.”
“Put the pizza here, big boy.” She patted the bed. “I’m feeding you tonight.”
Destiny arranged him on the bed against the headboard, hands cradling his neck; then she set the pizza box on the left, climbed onto his lap, sitting so her pussy slicked his dick.
Flipping the lid open, she inhaled, savoring the intermingled aromas of green peppers, sausage, pepperoni and jalapeños, tore off a slice, and then tightened her legs around his penis.
“Why dick?” she asked. “Why not cock or shaft?”
“I’m not hungry anymore,” he grumbled. “You expect me to carry on a conversation?”
Teasing the seam of his mouth, she coaxed, “Open. You’ll need your strength to keep up with me, Mr. Chapman. So why dick?”
Chewing furiously, jaw working, he frowned and then swallowed. “Dunno, all the guys in the unit called it a dick. Shaft’s for historical novels. Feed me a boob.”
“Nope, take another bite and hit Play on the remote.” Since the remote lay on her thigh, his hazel eyes glinted mischief and deviousness, and he tried to remove his hand from behind his head.
“Uh-uh,” she mocked. “I forgot you can’t use your hands. Too bad.”
He growled and opened his mouth, and she popped the last crusty piece in. His eyes narrowed, but he chomped the pizza.
She made him eat three slices before hitting Play on the remote.
The first ten minutes of Deep Throat formed a futile attempt at a plot.
“You’ve got to be kidding,” Destiny grumped. “Her clitoris is in her throat? That’s the plot line?”
“Sounds reasonable to me,” Linc retorted. “How about two clits? A throat one and a regular pussy one.” He rolled his eyes. “The mind boggles.”
Publisher Link: http://www.loose-id.com
Buy Link: http://www.amazon.com/Paratrooper-Pear-Hades-Squad-ebook/dp/B00361EWJ0/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&m=AG56TWVU5XWC2&s=digital-text&qid=1298365676&sr=1-1
Release date: 12/23/2009
Genre: Erotic, multicultural, contemporary suspense: m/f
Word Count: 68,841
Hope you enjoy!