#NewRelease
She crafts beauty. I crave destruction. Together, we’re something wickedly woven.
STONE by K. Terry is a spicy, dark romance with a good girl and an unhinged, morally gray hero who wants to show her his wicked ways. It’s now available on Amazon!
Meet Stone and Camyrn today!
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https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B0FVYBPX7W
Read an excerpt of Stone!
Damn, she’s young.
Too young, Stone.
The moment I walked into Jace’s backyard, a force made me look up. It was a fucking hit to the gut seeing her across the pool sitting calm and poised, like a fucking queen, dressed in that small ass bikini, dark shades, and smooth tanned skin.
I clock the five women and four men around the pool. A tall African American man who could rival Onyx in height. Two equally tall Caucasian men lounge in the pool. From the looks of it, they are like Jace, businessmen, but with an edge.
Dismissing them for now, I look around the property. Jace Park’s backyard is vast. Really fucking big, and my eyes scan the dark, shrouded forest beyond the manicured lawn. I want to explore the wooded recesses on the edge of the pristine grounds. Exploring forests has always brought me a sense of ease. The solitary peace. I wonder how many acres he owns. Probably more than I can calculate. The man is a billionaire with deep connections to everything and everyone, including my motorcycle club, the Legion Lords.
I can feel their stares. It doesn’t surprise me. I know how I look. My body is 90% covered in tattoos. Piercings are in my lips, eyebrow, and cock. I’m not dressed for a pool party, but when Jace invited me, I had no intention of going. Socializing isn’t my thing, but I wanted to stop by and thank him. I owe him more than I can ever repay.
My scar is also intriguing to most people. Usually, I don’t give a shit what people think when they see my face. I earned the scar that almost took my eye. The man who tried lost both his ears and tongue, along with three of his fingers; so, it was a fair trade, if you ask me.
That she’s intrigued by my scar shouldn’t make me hard, but it does. She’s curious, and I like her curiosity to a point, of course. I don’t want her poking around in the darker side of my life, but her curiosity is useful when a woman wants to fuck.
I take inventory of the other women around her. They’re all varying shades of beautiful tan and brown skin, but my desire remains dormant as I catalog them, taking note of each one. When you’re in my line of work, paying attention to details is crucial.
The one with short-cropped dark hair in a gold bikini looks pissed, staring off at the women in Jace’s grotto. I recognize the disgust on her face. Another woman, one with long braids, is definitely looking in my direction. Her body language radiates confidence. The smirk on her face reminds me of Riggs. I can tell he finds the attention I’m getting funny. Another woman wearing a skimpy bathing suit, funky purple glasses, and a bright smile smiles shyly. She’s nervous. My eyes travel to the curvy one in a yellow bikini. Tattoos dot her body. The workmanship is gorgeous. I would like to see them up close. She’s my usual go-to with her ink, shaved head, and piercings all along her ear. There’s a cloud of fury around her. Her face is tight, and I briefly wonder who put that hurt look on her face. But even my curiosity about her is mild.
Instead, my eyes travel back to her. There is something ethereal, otherworldly, almost, about her. Despite her shades, I can feel her focus. I stare right back, not giving a damn who notices. I want her to feel my presence, my perusal. Her concentrated stare travels along my body, and my dick throbs, wanting release. I haven’t felt this type of arousal in a long ass time. Chasing sex hasn’t been on the menu in almost a year. I’ve been too busy chasing something else entirely.
The white bikini that barely covers her sleek body makes my mouth water. An image of me using that minuscule scrap of fabric to bind her wrists comes to mind. I grit my teeth and let the fantasy continue with me using her bottoms to gag her mouth while I trail my knife between her breasts. The possibility of the sharp point making her arch her back. Just a small cut. Nothing too deep, just a small nick into her sun brown, sweaty skin. The damage to her delicate capillaries just under her skin would release her red and white blood cells, oozing slowly out, flowing along the tip of my knife and down between her breasts.
Widening my stance to give room for my cock to expand at the thought of tasting her blood, lapping it with my tongue, and then moving down past her navel to her pussy, finding her exposed clit and suck the tender bud into my mouth, tasting her arousal combined with the metallic flavor of her blood still on my tongue. I ball my fists at her imagined moans of pleasure, maybe distress when I don’t let up and test her boundaries.
Now standing next to Jace, I wonder who she is because the stirring in my dick demands my attention. I need to know. I inwardly sigh; most likely, she wouldn’t be able to handle what I need. Fucking for me is more than about sex. It involves control and things that scare most women, making it hard for me to fuck women outside the small circle of club cunt that are used to my proclivities. My fetishes are dangerous, involving my knives and ties. They can be deadly if not done right, and the young woman might take one look at my tools and run for the hills. It would be easier to take home one of the easy marks in the grotto frolicking, but I don’t want their plastic tonight. There’s nothing silicone or Botox-filled about this one.
About K. Terry
Fabulously in her Forties and a Bronx native, K. Terry is always writing her heart out about unhinged, grumpy, or sweet men who are obsessed with their FMCs. She is feral for fictional and realistic men who love all over women that come in all shapes, races, and sizes. She doesn’t shy away from nasty break-ups, sexy make-ups, and spicy AF love scenes. Her author motto: Write what you want and do what you want if it makes you happy. K. Terry has two kids and a hubby who always cheer her on!
Connect with K.
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