Ty-On-Tuesday ~ Snippet of TURNED by Virna DePaul – This Is Hot!
Welcome to #TyOnTuesday – every Tuesday stop by for a snippet of Virna DePaul’s new release, TURNED on sale 4/1/2014 – A new steamy excerpt of our H/H, no blushing – Enjoy!
A little back story about the book:
FBI Agent, Ty Duncan, works for the Belladonna Agency – an organization trying to track and kill rogue vampires –
Yes, they are real and no, most of us don’t even know they exist. But in order to make sure this stays true the Agency needs to find their headquarters and do what needs to be done.
Ava Martin is recruited to assist the agency by gaining access into a compound they believe harbors a vampire trafficking scheme — what’s in it for her? Well – Ty, of course and finding her sister, who they believe is in the compound.
Gripping, sexually intense and propelling – DePaul rocks the reader into another wonderful romance.
And now, this week’s snippet – enjoy!
One minute Ana was dreaming about herself as a powerless child and the next she was dreaming about sex, not just for the sake of having it, but because she craved it.
Because for the first time in her entire life, a man was making her crave it.
That man was Ty Duncan.
They stood mere feet away from each other. Instead of the pitch-black hair and dark eyes he’d had back at the coffee shop, his hair was lighter and his eyes were now
a sea-swept blue. The difference in coloring made him appear younger. More approachable. So did the look of yearning in his eyes. He stared at her as if he needed her to breathe. To feel. Quite simply, to exist.
Had anyone ever looked at her like that? As if she was everything to him?
He might cherish every part of her, if only she’d let him.
He remained silent, though. Watchful.
“Afraid I’m going to hurt you?” she asked, thinking of how she’d smashed his face into a wall and grabbed his balls. But that had been in real life. This was a dream.
Perhaps he didn’t remember. Or perhaps for this dream-Ty, none of it had actually happened.
“I am afraid you’re going to hurt me,” he said quietly. Yet somehow, they both knew he wasn’t talking about her hurting him physically, but on a deeper emotional plane.
She didn’t wake up. The slow burn of arousal continued to coil through her body. She raised her hand, cupped his neck, and tugged his head down.
Though his eyes widened slightly, he pressed his forehead against hers.
“You’re cold,” she said, noting again how low his natural body temperature was. It was simply an observation, not a complaint, and his features relaxed.
“Maybe to you. But I feel anything but cold right now.”
“I know what you mean,” she confessed, relishing her ability to talk freely for once. “Me, too.”
“You’re hot,” he agreed. “But I’m wondering where you’re the hottest.”
“You know curiosity killed the cat, right?”
He laughed and she jolted slightly, awed by how much his entire demeanor softened. Dear God, she’d thought he was amazing when he’d been in full badass mode.
When he let down his guard and laughed? Hell, it was entirely possible she’d climax right then and there. In- stead, she instinctively squeezed her thighs together, trying to dull the empty throbbing in her core.
He took a swift breath, his eyes heavy-lidded. Slowly, ever so slowly, he reached out and trailed his fingertips lightly against her hip. “Doesn’t matter. I’m willing to take my chances.”
She couldn’t speak. She quivered as his fingertips shifted to her outer thigh.
“So will you?”
“Will I what?” she breathed, not taking her gaze away from his fingers.
“Will you let me find out where you’re the hottest?”
Swallowing hard, she asked, “Don’t you know?”
She was stunned by her own daring. She was actually teasing him. Flirting. Encouraging his sexual attention.
She’d never done that with a man. At least, not so naturally. On occasion, she forced herself to go to a bar and find a man to have sex with, but to her those interludes had always been about proving something. Not sexual anticipation or pleasure. This way was so much better, she realized.
“I could guess,” he said reluctantly. “But I’d rather take it step by step. Unless you want to just tell me.”
Tell him and end this, he meant. Even in her dream, he was being a gentleman.
“No,” she said. “I don’t want to tell you.” He grinned. “Good. So let’s get started—”
His hand moved, and she suddenly panicked and grabbed his wrist. “Wait! When – when will you stop?”
“Whenever you want me to.”
She must have looked as dubious as she felt because his expression went completely serious. Despite her death grip on his wrist, he turned his hand over and entangled their fingers.
“You never have to fear that I’ll take things where you don’t want to go, princess. All I want is to please you.”
“Why do you keep calling me princess?”
He looked uncomfortable for a second. Odd for a dream. She’d thought he’d answer that question just as easily as he had the others.
“You said you never lie,” she reminded him.
He hesitated awhile longer. Then said, “I used to read to my sister, Naomi, at bedtime. Her favorite fairy tale was Sleeping Beauty. Remember I said you weren’t living, but waiting? I call you princess because you’re asleep. You don’t know how beautiful you are. How much the world needs you. And I want to be the man who kisses you and wakes you up.”
His words stunned her. Made her melt inside and yearn to be cradled in his arms. Instinctively, she tried to protect herself, shooting back, “So you see yourself as a prince?”
He grew even more somber. That look of need came back, but along with it were hints of things she didn’t want to see. Not from him.
“No, I’m no prince.” Releasing her hand, he pulled away. Automatically, she let go, too. He took several steps back, his gaze hardening. “In fact, I’m more devil than anything. You should remember that.”
He turned to go and another feeling of panic hit her, this one far stronger than the first.
“Wait,” she called out. “You promised you’d stop when I wanted you to.”
He paused, and she forced herself to keep speaking so that this odd but lovely dream wouldn’t end yet. God, please don’t let it end yet.
“And I—I don’t want you to stop,” she confessed. “I
want you to find where I’m the hottest.”
He walked up to her again. “You going to give me any hints where to start?”
She took his hand and led it to her breast. Swiftly in- haled when he gently cupped her aching flesh.
“Nice,” he said just as his mouth lowered to hers.
She expected him to plunge his tongue inside her mouth, but he kept his lips closed. Gentle.
He kissed her the way a young boy courting his first girl might, his body vibrating with excitement even as he forced himself to go slow.
No one had ever treated her with such care.
Miguel had loved her, of course. He’d sacrificed much to protect her; she’d ended up hating herself for it, and in some ways hating him. Every time she’d seen him, she’d seen the life that she could never escape. With Ty, she saw the type of life, the kind of man, that she could never have.
Except here . . . in her dreams. Here, she could enjoy his touch. And because he made her feel safe with his gentleness, she didn’t need it so much.
Opening her mouth, she licked his lips, urging him to give her more. Groaning, he angled his head and rubbed his tongue against hers. The hand that he’d placed on her breast began to move, kneading the small globe. Soon, his thumb rubbed her hardened nipple. The contrast of that firm, confident touch and the warm, increasingly eager but still silky-soft pressure of his mouth made her whimper. The sound was fraught with need, and she instinctively pulled her mouth away from his, ashamed.
One look at Ty made her embarrassment vanish. If she’d sounded needy, he looked it.
He watched her intently. His cheeks were flushed. His breathing broken. His gaze dropped to his hand, which was still playing with her breast. She inhaled swiftly at the sight of his big hand cupping her and she immediately imagined both his hands on her. On both breasts. All over her body. In her hair. On her hips.
Between her thighs.
With his free hand, he grabbed her hip and tugged her slightly closer so his beautiful blue eyes stared into hers. “I want to taste your breasts. Will you let me?”
She hesitated. He was being so good. Asking her permission before taking things further, as if he didn’t want to scare her. In response, she pulled away completely. His face reflected his disappointment.
When she peeled off the tank top she wore to sleep in, he was on her.
His hands on her hips. His mouth on her breasts. His tongue on her nipples. His smell all over her. Inside her. And somehow, he went straight to the place that mattered most.
About the Author:
Virna DePaul is a former criminal prosecutor and bestselling author of steamy, suspenseful fiction. Whether featuring vampires, a Para-Ops team, hot cops, or swoon-worthy identical twin brothers, her stories center around complex individuals willing to overcome incredible odds for love.