Sam and Nicky White are a typical contemporary power couple. She’s a ball-busting vice president at the country’s leading bank, he’s the trophy husband she wears on her arm at executive dinners.
Except when they are in the bedroom. In the bedroom, their “games” of sexual domination have Sam firmly in the position of power. Nicky, however, is ready to bring the game to an end but Sam has other ideas.
During a night of domination and submission in their isolated country cottage, an unexpected guest drops in on the couple. A dangerous guest. And for Sam and Nicky, nothing will ever be the same again.
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Excerpt
Crooked Triangle
Lexxie Couper
All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2006 by Lexxie Couper
An Authorized Excerpt
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Buck naked, the chilly night air kissing his hot flesh, Brad Tellerman dropped his clothes into the stagnant creek. Won’t be needing those any more, he thought, rubbing his hands together. A soft breeze blew across the lake, stirring the fine hairs on his legs, chest and balls. A tingle of excitement rippled through him as he ran his hands over his newly exposed body. He loved being naked, but it wasn’t a state he’d enjoyed over the last fifteen years.
A wry chuckle rumbled his chest. There wasn’t much of anything about the last fifteen years he’d enjoyed. Except escaping.
With one last look at his discarded uniform — the eye-hurting, orange one-piece overalls were covered in filth but still too easily recognised to leave them on — Brad turned and began threading his way through the matted scrub. There was a house with a light on in the distance. And he was hungry.
* * *
Tellerman scaled the fallen carcass of an old eucalypt, his sights set on the faint light in the distance. The spring moon sat low in the sky, thin and pale, throwing very little illumination on the land around him. He didn’t know how far he’d come since crawling out of the wreck, but it wasn’t far enough. The accident would have been reported by now which meant “they” would be out looking for him. The body of the transport driver would be found first, twisted and broken, his keys missing. And his gun.
He needed to get out of the open.
A breeze — soft and smelling of fresh earth and wet grass — played over his naked body. It felt like a million kisses on his flesh, and, despite the situation, his cock began to pump full of blood.
A groan rumbled low in his throat.
The desire to stop moving, to lean against the trunk of the fallen tree and take his own much needed release into his hands, was overwhelming. A quick pull and he could be off again.
And leave a spurt of cum in the dirt for the sniffer dogs to find? His hands curled into painful fists. Think, Tellerman, think! Two years of planning and sixty minutes of freedom down the drain because you couldn’t control your fucking dick? He trained his eyes on the beckoning beam of light on the horizon, ignoring the throbbing ache between his legs. He didn’t have the time. Besides, there were other things he could sink his cock into. Warmer things. Wetter things.
A slow grin curled the sides of his lips as he picked up the pace, sprinting across the dark paddock. Someone was about to get an unexpected visitor. And some unexpected fun.
