EXCERPTS

Viva Los Regalos: Kat and Mouse
In The Game of Cat and Mouse, Someone Is Bound To Get Eaten.
©2007 Lexxie Couper

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Australian Federal cop Katrina O’Brien’s on the tail of an international jewel thief, a mysterious criminal known only as The Mouse. She’s not going to let him get away, even when his trail leads her to the sinfully decadent US resort Los Regalos, a place where your every desire is catered to. Katrina’s desires run deep and dark, and The Mouse is more than willing to accommodate them. But so is someone else. Someone who’s been watching them both. Someone who knows everything about them…

Someone dangerous.

Someone powerful.

Someone not human…

***

Flynn held her wrists, holding them behind her in a grip both inescapable and powerful. “Why did you come here?”
The feel of his body pressed to hers made her pussy flood with cream. His cock, ram-rod straight and harder than steel, ground against her ass, burning her flesh like a brand even through the cotton of her shorts. “To see you,” she answered, her normally confident voice just a whisper.
“To see me or to be fucked by me?”
Both.
She wanted to say the word, but it refused to pass her lips. Instead, she tried to pull away from his hold. “Let me go.”
“Tell me!” he demanded, jerking on her wrists.
Her shoulders ached a little, a slight burn that made her feel alive. Her life had been about playing it safe, never taking risks, but everything about Flynn Masters was a risk. An addictive risk…
“Tell me!”
“Both.”
One hand left her wrists and reached around her body, closing over her left breast with a possessive arrogance. She whimpered, a pitiful sound that seemed louder than a gun shot. “I told you never to come here.”
The growled statement made her skin tingle. Her nipples pinched harder, straining against the material of her bra and t-shirt. How could she not come to him? When he made her feel so… so…
Wanted?
Was that it? Was that the attraction? The desperate longings of a lonely child of affluent parents who didn’t know how to stop working? Who sent her to boarding school the moment she could spell her name?
Or was it more?
Dangerous.
Love.
His hand left her breast, fingers tickling the lines of her ribcage as he explored a line down to her waist. With an ease both disturbing and thrilling he slipped his hand under the hem of her shirt, pressing his palm to her bare skin.
She gasped and arced her spine, pressing her ass harder to his rigid shaft.
“Is this why you disobeyed me? To have me touch you?”
She didn’t answer.
He skimmed his hand up the curve of her ribcage, capturing her breast once again. Her nipples puckered into painful tips of want, rubbing against the material of her bra, pushing his palm with an urgency that sent hot ribbons of shame and hunger into her being.
“This isn’t a game, Katrina.” The growl in her ear made her shiver. “If you’re here to be fucked, tell me.”
“I’m here to be fucked.”
The hands on her body grew brutal and she whimpered again, eyelids fluttering close, pussy pooling with wet rapture.
“By who?”
Her cunt constricted. Her knickers grew damp. Anger flared in her chest. Anger at herself. At him. “By you, Flynn. Only you.”
Without warning, he curled his fingers around the edge of her bra and ripped it aside, claiming her breast with a force that made her cry out. “Tell me again.” He pinched her nipple, rolling the nub of flesh between thumb and finger even as he tightened his grip on her wrists. “Tell me what you want me to do to you. I want to hear it from your lips.”
She bucked against him, molten lust pouring into her sex. His strength overwhelmed her, stole her breath.
Just a lonely rich girl longing for danger…
She still remembered his almost inaudible words after the first time they’d kissed, uttered with deep rancour. Who he was bitter with she didn’t know, but she couldn’t stay away. And he didn’t want her to. She could tell. In the gentle way he brushed the hair from her face after he’d taken her on the bed, against the wall. In the softness in his eyes as he studied her, post-coitus, his fingers trailing over her body in a delicate exploration, as if he’d never seen something so precious. He was an enigma, a contradiction she wanted to solve. An addiction she didn’t want to do without.
God, did she love him?
Arrogant fingers flicked her nipple and the thought vanished, replaced by a wave of wild heat that poured into her very core. She writhed against him and he bit her neck, his teeth and tongue torturing her skin. She cried out, bucking in his hold. The action drove his cock harder to her ass, its insistent length setting her blood on fire.
Teeth nipped at her earlobe, sending shards of exquisite pain through her body. “Tell me!”
“I want you to touch me. To fuck me.”
The hand on her wrist tugged, bowing her backward, thrusting her breasts forward. “How?”
She sucked in a ragged breath, pulse pounding. “Hard.”
He squeezed her breast, his knuckles razing her aching, eager nipple. “Don’t say it if you don’t mean it, Kat. Don’t play with me like I’m a – “
…toy.
The disembodied word floated through Katrina’s sleep-clouded brain like a ghostly whisper. She opened her eyes, staring about herself, completely confused.
Where was she?
A massive painting of a wild cat, a lynx, stared down at her from the wall above her head and it came back to her in a rush. Los Regalos. Abaddon. The Mouse.
And another memory…
Dragging her hands through her hair, she dropped her head. When had she fallen asleep? Hell, when had she even sat on the bed.
When you discovered the cat’s collar.
She snapped straight, staring at the latex costume still stretched out on display, albeit a little tussled now, beside her on the bed. Nothing new had arrived while she slept. No sudden appearance of a bottle of catnip or tray of kitty-litter.
Rubbing at her face she turned to the suite’s far window. Sunlight flooded the room, painting everything with a golden glow. She squinted at it, feeling more fuzzy and jet-lagged than ever. God, how long had she been asleep for?
A quick glance at her watch gave her the answer. Five hours. Five hours sleep in the last forty-eight. She suppressed a groan. No wonder she was having disturbing dreams. Sleep deprivation was a legitimate psychological tor-
Blackjack tomorrow. 6am. Or has the Kat become a chicken?
The Mouse’s arrogant note flashed through her head and she leapt to her feet. 6am! Damn. It was already 5:45!

Deadly Sins: Anger

Blurb

Ira McKenzie has spent his life struggling with the undeniable anger that scorches through his veins. But in the arms of Ricki Sullivan, Ira finally finds his peace. Until Shahla enters Ira’s world…

Excerpt

Her hand slipped over his hip and cupped his ass, and nothing but the feel of her in his world mattered.
Lips softer than silk pressed against his jaw. Chin. Mouth.
When the warm tip of her tongue touched his, the blood in his veins turned to liquid heat and, with a raw groan he rolled on top of her, flattening her to her back. Their hips aligned, the moist readiness of her pussy slicking his already rigid cock. He shook his head, gazing down into her face. “You have a power over me, Mystery Woman.”
The haunted look had left her eyes and she stared up at him with an intensity that stole his breath. “Then I best use it for the good of humanity,” she murmured back, a small smile on her mouth as the lips of her pussy played over his cock.
Ira moved slightly, nudging her wet, satiny sex. “Humanity can just wait in line,” he growled, as, with a fierce thrust, he plunged his aching shaft into her tight, hot cunt. Like two pieces of the one puzzle, they were joined, the muscles of her sex closing around him so firm and tight he could barely think.
“Oh, Ira!” Ricki arched into him, nails sinking into his shoulders as long legs locked around his hips, imprisoning him against her flesh. He didn’t mind. There was no other place he wanted to be.
He dropped his head, her sweet saltiness on his lips as they travelled the most perfect collarbone known to man, lingered in the little dip at the base of her throat and then across her breastplate to the heaven that was her breasts. He took one rosy peak in his mouth, rolling the tip between his teeth until she whimpered and writhed in ecstasy.
Action and reaction became instinctive. Without words Ricki demanded he scour away the torment of her nightmare. Her body, a thing of divine beauty and perfection pushed him to barriers he’d never dreamed, hauling them both through with a mere touch of her tongue, a brush of her fingers. Her cunt pulsed and contracted around his cock, sucking its straining length deeper into the sopping folds until his balls smacked against her ass. She wormed a hand between their sweat-slicked bodies and, cupping the heavy sacs, pressed the pad of her middle finger firmly on his anus.
The contact was electric. A wave of tension blasted through him. If she inched any deeper, he would lose all hope of control. He lifted his head, ready to tell her to stop. To wait.
And saw Shahla.
Like a gossamer shadow thrown over Ricki’s form.
What the–
Pressing her hips higher, eyes closed, breath short and ragged, Ricki squeezed his balls with her hand. “God, Ira!”
Why praise God? Shahla’s voice caressed Ira’s senses, hot and dead all at once. When I am sooo much better.
With a wink and a chuckle, she faded from sight.
But not from touch.
Insidious hands scorched a path over Ira’s back, dancing down the throbbing lines left by Ricki’s nails to his hips. His ass. And as it was in the studio, his body reacted.
Blood, boiling to a point of exquisite agony, tore through his veins, surging into his already turgid cock. “Oh, Ira!” Ricki moaned, pulling him closer with her thighs. Like melted wax, Shahla’s hot hands slid over his ass cheeks. Scalding his flesh. Ira jerked in pain, ramming deeper into Ricki’s gripping cunt. “Oh, God, Ira! More!”
Yes, Ira. Shahla’s breath played on his neck. Blisteringly hot. So much more awaits. When you open the Book.
A finger of liquid metal joined Ricki’s on his anus and he bucked again, hateful ecstasy igniting in his balls and ripping out to fuse with the new contact.
Eyes slammed shut, he threw back his head.
Shahla was there. Even as he felt Ricki’s satiny skin press against him, in his head he saw the bitch from the book.
Saw her and — God help him — wanted her.
Pale breasts, full and heavy, brushed against his face. It was impossible, but he felt them all the same. As Ricki drew her mouth over one of his nipples, Shahla dragged one of her nipples over $his$ mouth. She was not there, but he felt the hot puckered tip of flesh on his lips all the same. And before he could stop himself, he touched his tongue to it.
Yes!
“Yes!”
Ricki moaned beneath him, teeth pulling at his nipple, hand cupping his balls as Shahla — a vaporous presence that filled him with dread — pressed against him. Fingers on his ass, in his ass, breasts on his face, in his mouth.
Ira arched and jerked frantically, fighting with a primitive greed that threatened to consume him and leave nothing but a shell of depraved lust. He knew he needed to stop Shahla before he was lost to her. But knowing and doing were two very different things.
As Ricki moved beneath him, undulating in perfect harmony with his thrusts, Shahla’s lips, teeth and tongue explored his body, licking a line of fire from his shoulder to his hip to his ass. “Jesus!” Fangs, hotter than molten steel, sank into the back of his thigh and he let out a scream, flinching in pain and ramming harder into Ricki’s cunt.
He felt Shahla’s chuckle on his flesh. Wimp.
Savage Retribution

Enjoy the Heat. Survive the Chase…

Blurb

An animal rights activist is about to get a crash course in werewolves. One she may not survive.

Lone Irish werewolf Declan O’Connell has lost everything—his family, his clan, even his freedom—to his arch-rival, Nathan Epoc. The head of an underground werewolf clan and a brilliant scientist, Epoc plans to use Declan to create a super-wolf, a creature capable of shifting the balance of power in the lycanthrope world. But Epoc’s plans are about to be thwarted.

Regan Thomas, a determined animal rights activist, rescues what she thinks is an ordinary wolf from his notorious animal testing facility in Sydney, Australia. She gets more than she bargained for when the wolf turns into an extremely hunky, extremely naked man who immediately drags her into a world where the clash between two opposing werewolf clans could spell the end of humankind.

Declan has survived without a clan for more years than he cares to remember, but sexy Regan stirs up all his fierce, alpha-wolf instincts. Now Declan has one last chance at revenge. But can he keep Regan alive, and resist the overwhelming attraction between them, long enough to stop Epoc?

Summer in Australia has never been this hot… or this dangerous.

Unedited Excerpt

Regan opened her eyes. Slowly. She peered around the dark room, squinting at the thin shards of bright light pushing through a narrow crack in the curtains on the far wall. Where was she?
She pressed her palms to the spongy mattress beneath her and struggled into a sitting position, taking in the kitsch, framed prints on the wall and the sunken bed beside her. A hotel room? Was she in a hotel room? The sound of traffic hummed beyond the walls; cars, trucks, motorcycles, and behind those typical urban noises the distant cries and squawks of seagulls. God, she could be anywhere.
Swinging her legs around, she placed her bare feet on the floor and pushed herself upright. Black swirling stars filled her head immediately and she flopped back down to the bed, a dull throb pounding up her jaw into her temple. She lifted her hand, running her fingers along the aching beat.
Damn it! He’d hit her! He’d actually hit her.
“I’m sorry about that.”
The softly spoken words with their even softer accent caressed her ears and she spun around, staring through a fresh wave of black stars at the man sitting in the armchair behind her.
At some stage he’d found himself some clothes. A pair of very faded blue jeans hugged his long, lean legs, emphasizing the corded strength of his thighs and impressive bulge between them, and a black Ramones t-shirt covered a torso Regan remembered being hard and smooth and wonderful to touch. A squeezing sensation rolled through her belly into the warm centre between her legs. Regan scowled. Goddamn it! The man had kidnapped her and here she was feeling horny? She steadied herself on the bed, giving her abductor a mean glare. “Yeah, well sorry doesn’t cut it, mate. If you wanted me to leave that badly you could’ve asked.”
To her surprise, the man laughed, the sound rich and relaxed. “I did ask. You decided to make a phone call, remember?”
Regan closed her eyes. Shit. Peter would be going out of his mind. Probably had the entire Sydney City Police Force out looking for her.
And with good reason?
She flicked a shuttered gaze to the man watching her. She didn’t know. Yet.
“I truly am sorry about the jaw.” The Irish lilt played over her senses like a feather and she suppressed a shiver. She really needed to get her act together. Who knew what he had in store for her? “But we had to go. I couldn’t wait.” Grey storm-cloud eyes grew intense. “We couldn’t wait.”
Regan edged into a more comfortable, but easy-to-spring-from position on the bed, checking out how close and easy to reach the phone was in case she needed to swing it. “What are you?”
The blunt question didn’t seem to offend him. In fact, those defined lips curled into a small smile. “Apart from a freak, you mean?”
Regan didn’t bat an eyelid. “Yes. Apart from that.”
“A werewolf.”
It was Regan’s turn to laugh. “Oh, right. A werewolf. Of course. Why didn’t I think of that?”
The man’s smile stretched wider. “I thought it was pretty obvious myself, love. Considering one minute you were stroking my fur and running your fingers up and down my four legs—which I enjoyed immensely, I might add—and the next I was standing before you on two. Furless.”
A very large, hard lump suddenly stuck in Regan’s throat and her head swam again. The memory of the wolf’s unusual humerus and pelvic bone crashed over her, as did her surreal response to the animal’s inherent power. Her skin prickled into clammy gooseflesh. She stared at the man still watching her from his chair, her pulse a rapid hammer pounding in her neck. “Holy shit.”
The man’s smile turned dry. “There’s nothing holy about werewolves, love.”
Frazzled anger shot through Regan and she gave her abductor a glare. “Stop calling me love.”
Even blacker eyebrows shot up, a light she could only describe as mischievous glinting in his grey eyes. His smile grew wider. Wolfish. “And what would you be having me call you, then?”
“My name’s Regan.”
With a speed she’d seen from him before, both as man and wolf, he was on his feet, across the short distance between them and beside the bed. He extended his right hand, the mischievous light in his eyes now devilish. “Declan O’Connell. Your kidnapper for the day.”
Regan ignored his hand, even as a tight, wet heat unfurled in the pit of her stomach at his proximity. His clean but musky scent threaded through her breath and she pressed her thighs closer together, trying her best to ignore the constricting pressure between them. “For the day?” she repeated, looking at him squarely in the face. “So this is just a twenty-four hour thing? Like a twenty-four hour flu?” She paused. “Only more annoying?”
The man—Declan—chuckled, but Regan didn’t miss the dark tension in his gaze. “Perhaps ‘for the day’ was a poor choice of words.”
Regan clenched her fists and jaw. “Perhaps you should tell me what the hell is going on. Because at this point in time, I’m very close to picking up the phone and braining you with it. Hard.” She narrowed her eyes. “I’m still not convinced this isn’t all just a bad dream left over from my run-in with Epoc’s security guards.”
Strong fingers pinched her shoulder before she could move. “Feel that?”
Damn, he’s fast. The thought sent a chill straight up her spine. How the hell was she to get away when he moved like a…
Like an animal?
Stomach fluttering, Regan looked up into the smoldering grey eyes. Damn it, she was in trouble. A heavy lump formed in her throat again and she swallowed. “What’s going on? No bullshit, no Irish charm, okay?”

Shifting Lust: The Collection

Content Warning: Contains graphic sexual content that may offend some readers.

“Touch me, Raiven,” she commanded, reaching for his hands and lifting them to her full, round breasts. The flesh was warm and soft under his palm and a moan slipped past his lips. She slid his hands down the smooth curve of her ribcage to the hot junction of her thighs, pressing his fingers firmly against her crotch. “Touch me here.”
She rolled her hips slowly, moving her heat against his fingers. Her eyes held his, refusing to let him look away. She took a long breath, the action swelling her breasts until the soft flesh brushed his chin. Despite himself, his cock began to do its own swelling.
“Make love to me, Raiven.”
“You don’t know what love is,” he growled.
She looked back at him and for a moment he swore her eyes shimmered from blue to black to blue again. “Yes,” she whispered, reaching behind her back, “I do.” There was a faint click as she released the fastening of her bustier and, at once, her full, heavy breasts spilled free. Without thought, he took one rosy peak into his mouth, latched his lips around it and sucked hard. She threw back her head, her hands tangling in his hair as she drove her nipple harder against his mouth. “Bite it,” she ordered.
He complied, nipping the taut nub of flesh between his teeth. The sound of her sharp gasp filled his veins with heat, burning away the cold emptiness of his pain. He smoothed his hands up her back as he pulled her into the action, his cock now an aching rod of steel. She gasped again, throaty and deep, unlike any sound he’d heard the princess make before. It triggered something, an animal lust he couldn’t fathom. He flung her back against the command deck, shooting to his feet and yanking her legs up around his hips. He quickly pulled the small knife he wore strapped to his left thigh out of its sheath and sliced through her pants just below her exquisite navel, cutting the soft leather until her neat black mound was exposed. The sight of her pubic hair sent a carnal jolt through him. He dropped his mouth to the flat line of her stomach, following it with his tongue until his lips found one of her nipples. He sucked it into his mouth, biting and licking as his searching fingers parted the downy hair between her thighs, seeking the tiny nub of flesh hidden in her wet heat.
“Holy Gods!” The cry was hoarse and raw as it ripped from her throat, and Raiven smiled against her breast. She arched her back, rolling her head from side to side on the control deck, as his fingers rubbed backwards and forwards over her swollen clit.
His cock was straining against the confines of his trousers, impatient to be released. Despising the time it demanded, he unclipped his buckle with his free hand. He hadn’t felt such powerful lust for two years, but it consumed him now. He wanted to bury himself in that hot, slick passage. He wanted her gripping, sopping pussy to drown his misery again.
Kicking away his trousers, he tore at his vest, ripping it from his body and flinging it across the cockpit, a growl sounding deep in his throat. The princess gazed up at him and her eyes seemed to shimmer. It’s just lust fucking with your mind, a’Tor.
“I want you inside me, Raiven.”
He didn’t need to be told twice. He gripped the torn remains of her pants and yanked them apart, revealing her glistening, swollen lips. Grabbing her legs again, he spread them apart. She dug the spiky heels of her boots into his flesh as she planted her feet on his shoulders. He gazed at her pussy, tracing the velvet-lips with his fingertips, slowly parting them until he found her clit. He wanted to run his tongue over it and began to drop his head, but she placed her palms on his chest, stopping him.
“No.” Her breath was short. “I want to see your face when I come.”
He couldn’t stop his dry smile. “Fine by me, Your Highness.”
For the quickest instant, a slight frown crossed her face, but before Raiven could wonder why, she gently grabbed his rigid shaft, squeezing it and kneading the glowing head as she guided it to her pussy.
He slid into her, the tight flesh enveloping his cock like a slick sheath. She raised her hips, meeting him in the middle, her breath short and ragged. He ran his hands over her arched body to her breasts, pinching her nipples. Flicking them, pinching them. He held her gaze with his own, squeezing the full weight of her breasts with his hands, the soft feel of them making him giddy. Exquisite pressure rushed through him, hot and squirming, like a pulsing vein of concentrated energy. He felt as if he was going to erupt. He shifted one hand, squeezing it between their grinding pelvises, finding her clit and stimulating it even more with the rough pad of his thumb. “Oh, Gods! Oh …” Her pussy clenched. He could feel her muscles spasm. He threaded his fingers through hers and pinned her hands to the control deck as he plunged in and out of her. His balls slapped with pleasurable pain against her cunt. Soon. Very soon.
Hips rocking in wild rhythm with hers, he rode her harder. Sweat dripped from his forehead. Ran down his spine. He threw his head back, ready to lose himself, to fall over the edge, but before he could, she slipped her boots from his shoulders and wrapped them around his neck, forcing him to return his eyes to hers. Midnight black eyes stared up at him.
“Look at me,” she pleaded.
And as his orgasm surged through him, he did.