Excerpt from All I Need – Crescent City, Book 1

The following is an excerpt from the novel All I Need, first in an exciting new romance series by debut author Jamie St. John. If you enjoy this excerpt, you can pick up All I Need right here.

Kylie – Now

His mouth is a doorway to magical taste and sensation. I melt with desire to melt with him. Our tongues dance, like our bodies so recently, but with more force, like no amount of contact is enough. With each writhing motion I want more. The kiss is everything Holy Communion should be, a sharing of flesh, divine and dripping with sweet revelation.

When he pulls away, I lunge forward, needing him back in my mouth. Another song starts, but the spell doesn’t break. I’m ravenous for him. He says something about getting a room, and somehow I manage to answer.

He kisses me again, and we leave the club in a rush, sole passengers on a bullet train burning carnal fuel. Somewhere between the club and the hotel, I realize I never bought the second round of drinks, and start laughing like a crazy person.

He stops and asks if I’m okay, if I’m sure I want to do this, if maybe I’ve had too much to drink. But the only thing I’m drunk on is the need to be as near to him as possible. I’m in danger of thinking beyond the night, about what might happen tomorrow morning when I wake up in his arms, if I wake up in his arms, if he doesn’t leave before dawn’s first light. I think about what might happen if I see him again before my vacation is over. I think that I’m thinking too much and quell my thoughts with another deep kiss.

I love everything about this. I love that we’re still in costume, our faces covered by masks. I love that I don’t know his name. More than anything, I just love how caught up in it I am, back in New Orleans and pulsing with expectation.

Somehow I hold it together while I pay for the room. I overcome his objections, first by telling him that he bought me a drink, then by telling him that if he buys us breakfast tomorrow, we’d be square.

The middle-aged woman at the front desk can barely contain her smirk as I fumble with my credit card. She knows what’s up. I can read it all over her flushed face as she hands me the receipt.

“Have fun,” she says with a wink.

The elevator ride to the room on the fifth floor is too long. I want him now. We share few words. Mostly, we just look back and forth at each other, giggling like children and occasionally sharing more kisses as reminders of what’s coming later and can’t come soon enough.

Nerves abuzz, it takes three tries to get the room key to work. He asks again if I’m sure I want to do this. He says we can stop whenever, and I believe he means it. There’s no whiny disappointment in his voice. His features hold concern, but it’s clearly concern for me, not for whether or not he’s getting laid tonight. I’m a good reader of people and his expression exudes empathy.

“I’m more than sure,” I say, and with that, I finally get the door open.

When we enter the room, time slows down even more than in the elevator, but this time, I don’t resist it. It’s always better to take your time.

I cross the room and face him. He hasn’t moved from the doorway. He watches me for instruction. I love a man who can let go of control. While I don’t deny the existence of benevolently dominant men, I’ve yet to meet one myself.

“Okay. Rule one: masks stay on.”

“Okay with me.”

“Rule number two: you will wear protection.”

“Oh, shit. Should I run down and get some? I think there’s a convenience store across the street.”

“Not necessary. I always carry condoms in my purse, because, well, I guess you never know.”

I watch him closely for one sign of judgment, one indicator that he’s the type of man who would shame me. Believe it or not, even in the twenty-first century, such men exist.

“Cool,” he says. “That will save us some time.”

He smiles then. I can tell he is a little nervous now.

“Don’t worry. I’m healthy.”

“Same. I just… well, I guess I don’t normally do this.”

“That sounds like a line, but for some reason, I believe you.”

“I also, I dunno. I kind of get the feeling that you don’t either.”

Now, that’s a shocker.

“Well, if we still had our drinks, I’d say we should toast to trying new things.”

He laughs and I join him. After something like fifteen seconds, we stop.

“So, who gets undressed first?”

“Maybe we should do it together. On three?”

“Okay. I like that.” Then he bites his lip. “Well, maybe I should get a head start. This hat leaves me more to shed.”

“Fair enough,” I say, glad to get a full view of that fantastic hair.

He removes the hat and I stare, admiring the wavy locks. I can’t believe how thick they are. I can hardly wait to run my hands through them.

“Okay,” I say. “One-two-three.”

We take our time. I don’t know how much time has passed before we’re fully naked, but I’m grateful for it. Anticipation is my favorite part of lovemaking. We stand there, examining each other. I’m not crazy about letting men give me a full inspection when I’m disrobed, but something about this man is so disarming, I want him to see me naked, to examine the goods before he signs on the dotted line. I even do a little twirl so he can look at my ass and whatever else catches his fancy back there. I’m partial to the back of my neck, myself, a space of flesh tattooed with a butterfly.

I face him again and can see he is pleased. I try not to notice a man’s cock before anything else, but in this case its’ challenging not to. He’s rock hard, and his length extends so that the head of his penis reaches his navel.

The body that houses the organ is not too shabby either. Clothed, he appeared deceptively wiry, almost frail and birdlike. His large hands should have been a dead giveaway though. He is anything but frail. His abs are like eight polished stones lined up in two perfect columns. Pecs are similarly smooth, and just as firm. His arms are lean and sinewy. His legs are like a runner’s. Aside from some strange pink scars near his color bone, his body is pretty much flawless. Either he’s got a great workout regimen, or he was grown in a lab from top-of-the-line genes.

I utter a breathy “wow,” before I can stop myself.

“Wow bad or wow good?”

I take a step toward him. “I think you know.”

We close the distance between each other. The eye contact holds steady with each step. It’s like we’re in a trance, each of us a space particle caught in the gravitational pull of the planet between us, a world made up only of our mutual desire.

We kiss, and I’m pleased to discover that we’ve lost none of our momentum. It’s like we’re dancing again, this time even closer together, connected at even more points, with nothing to keep us apart. We dance our way to the bed.

He kisses his way down my torso, each touch of his full lips a warm drop of exquisite oil. I stop him at my waist, taking a fistful of hair that feels as amazing as it looks.

“You should let me first,” I say. “If we go straight from blowjob to sex, you probably won’t last long.”

“Wow, that’s incredibly forward.”

“I’m not knocking your stamina. It’s just physics. If I get you to an eight on the scale of flaccid to thar she blows, and then put you inside of me, it will be over way too quickly.”

“Wow. You’re really confident about your head game.”

“I’ll get you to the brink. Then you can go down on me. Then intercourse. Longer lasting intercourse, especially with the aforementioned protection.”

Before he can help himself, he’s in stitches, cheeks flushed and laughing like he’s heard the latest, filthiest version of The Aristocrats joke.

“What?” I say, trying to stifle my own giggles.

He catches his breath. “I guess I’m not used to this kind of honesty or planning.”

“Is that a problem?”

“No, it’s kind of nice, actually.”

“Great. Then get your ass on the bed and let me suck your dick.”

He stands up straight and salutes, which looks all the more ridiculous given his nudity.

“Ma’am,” he says.

Then he’s sprawled out on the bed waiting for me.

“How fucked up would it be if I just left?”

“You wouldn’t even bring your clothes?”

I grin big and get down on my knees between his muscular thighs. When I take him in my mouth, he gasps and grips the bedsheets in tight fists.

Oh, he’s gonna be a fun one.

And he is. Everything is. It’s great. As close to a perfect lay as one is apt to get, really.

But then a disaster happens.

After I collapse on top of him, spent and climaxed out with my juices a puddle in and around his crotch, after we’ve gone through positions tried and true and even a few new ones, and after he comes, filling the condom with his pleasantly scorching seed, and it feels so good I almost wish I hadn’t made him wear one, after all that, the worst thing I can possibly imagine happens.

He says my name. I didn’t give him my name.

All I Need – Crescent City, Book 1 is available now on Amazon.

Blood and Brimstone, Chapter 11 – Free Serial Novel

Blood and Brimstone, the free sequel to my paranormal romance Flesh and Fire, continues below. You can get caught up on previous chapters here.

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The Virus caught up to Windom at a Shoney’s some fifteen miles across the Tennessee border. Dude was hard to miss. Six-foot-ten, three hundred pounds, the word KILL tattooed across his forehead. Windom watched the Virus enter, but kept his head down, pretended to keep eating his bland catfish and soggy green beans. No need to cause a scene. Not yet.The Virus plodded to where the hostess, a petite blond with crooked teeth and big dumb eyes, stood shuffling menus. She smiled up at the Virus, didn’t say shit about his imposing size or his face tattoo. Windom guessed she was used to seeing all sorts of characters in these truck stop buffets. “Just one, sir?”“Meeting a friend,” the Virus said, his voice gravel in a paper cup.He and the hostess turned to the dining room. Windom waved. May as well get to it.The Virus followed the hostess toward Windom’s table. He didn’t bother sitting. The hostess—her name tag said, Greta—glanced from Windom to the Virus. Crooked teeth bared into a too big smile. Eyes darted between the two men. Blinked.“You gonna sit?” she asked.“Sit when I want. Leave a menu.”“Okay, sure thing,” she said, still smiling, so used to being bossed around, she thought it was normal. She only existed to please. Did her damnedest to walk on eggshells with everyone. All the time. At least that was what Windom gleaned, just from focusing on her mannerisms, her aura, the empty space he detected where most people had a multitude of thoughts. “You just lemme know you need anything, ‘kay?”She sashayed away from the table. The Virus looked down at Windom, narrowed his eyes.“Think you know why I’m here.”“Reckon I do. No need to rush things. Grab a plate. Get some food. I recommend the catfish.”“I didn’t come here to eat.”“You always need to be so serious? Relax a little.”The Virus sniffed. Convinced by the aroma, he nodded. “All right. Better not try anything funny.”“Course not. I know my audience.”The Virus went to the buffet and returned with a loaded plate and sat down. He bit into a chicken thigh, tore a huge hunk of meat and dropped the almost bare bone back to the plate. He chewed with his mouth open. Windom hated that shit.“So, how do you plan on doing me in?” Windom asked.“It matter? End result’s the same.”“Look at you, brushing up on your philosophy.”“What?” He spit out a wayward chunk of bone.“Never mind. For your information, it does matter. I’d like for you to make it as quick as possible. Surely, that doesn’t surprise you.”The Virus scarfed the skin from a chicken leg and gnashed the fat with his mouth open. Made a squishy sound. “Funny, you thinking you deserve an easy way out of this.”“Didn’t say I deserved anything. Just saying what I want is all.”“I hear ya. Don’t mean I’m gonna listen.”“Yeah, I figured as such, but I’m still curious. How do you plan on doing it?”“Doing what?”Windom sighed at the Virus’s mental density. “Killing me.”The Virus stopped chewing. Dropped a mostly eaten chicken wing back to his plate. He folded his hands. Stared real serious like, then smiled.“Here’s what I’m thinking. First I’m gonna chop your dick off and shove it up your asshole.” Windom nodded, genuinely intrigued, and motioned for the Virus to go on. “Gonna shove it up your asshole so far…hmm, well, I would say you’d be pissing every time you open your mouth, but you won’t have much time to do that once I get done with you.”“Not to mention, that would only work if somehow my bladder was still attached.”The Virus narrowed his eyes. “You know I don’t like smart motherfuckers.”“You’re right. Sorry.” Windom grinned. “Go on.”“Well, after I shove your dick up your ass…”People around them started to stare.“Might want to keep it down, huh?” said Windom.The Virus leered at an old man in a denim shirt. “Fuck you looking at, old timer?”“Focus, you’re here for me, remember.”“Right. Anyway, after I shove your dick up your ass, I’m gonna plug the wound with my fist and fuck it. Fist fuck you from both sides.” He chuckled. “I get bored with that, and ‘pending you’re still alive, I’m gonna gouge out your eyes and feed ‘em to ya.”“Well, shit, that’s just mean.”“Course, I may just bypass all that shit and just shoot you in the back of the head.”“Course, this is all pending I let you.”“Fuck you say?”Windom got the disbelief in the Virus’s voice. Yeah, sure, Windom had a reputation for being dangerous, but his appearance was about as physically unthreatening as a sparrow standing its ground against a mountain lion. Probably even more silly to a guy the size of the Virus.Windom pushed his plate full of green beans and a mostly eaten filet of catfish aside and revealed the symbol. All angles and curves, an eye at its center, he’d drawn it on the table in red chalk five minutes before the Virus entered. The hitman’s brow furrowed, wrinkling the black letters in the word KILL.“Hell is that?”“Look closer.”The Virus leaned forward and Windom mumbled the words taught to him when he was a boy, in the arrangement his grand pappy said was older than God. The Virus sucked in a ragged breath. Windom gripped the sides of the Virus’s head and slammed it against the table. KILL met ancient sigil. The Virus spread through the cosmos in time immeasurable, in an eternal instant. And he screamed. His third eye finger-fucked by the Hand of Glory. His screams became gurgles. The back of his head exploded, shot pink and red brains like a geyser. Some hunks stuck to the ceiling.Windom released the Virus. He rose from the booth and grinned at the slack-jawed, wide-eyed spectators.“I bid thee good day,” he said, and mumbled more of the strange words, stopping time long enough to leave the Shoney’s and walk, whistling, toward the highway.