Dee Brice

Virtual Bride Her Virtual Ecstasy


Available in
eBook

Coming Soon to eXtasy Books | ISBN#978-1-55487-993-9

Trent Ryder is a cursed man. His entire adult life all he’s had to do to get a woman into bed is smile. At thirty-five he wants more than fleeting sexual satisfaction. He wants a woman who he likes and who likes him. Caprice Greco may be just the woman to save his relationship with his grandfather and teach him how to like someone of the opposite sex. Now all he has to do is stop imagining her in naked his arms and willingly in his bed.

Caprice Greco is a betrayed woman. As an inexperienced sex surrogate, she gave her true virginity to a man whose charming smile stole her heart. Trent Ryder’s smile brings back all her memories of a lover’s deceit and makes her steel her heart against him. But fight as she does with all her strength and determination, she slips a little more each day into liking him.

With hologram hermaphrodite Herma-Frodie meddling in the mix anything can happen. Will like blossom into love?

feather line

 An Excerpt

Copyright © DEE BRICE, 2011
All Rights Reserved

Dreams. Sweet, delicious, tempting, taunting, arousing visions that led to total satisfaction and exquisite languor.

They tiptoed in on the sound of her patio doors opening. Whispered to her on the zephyr breeze that riffled the sheer curtains. Drifted nearer, carrying Trent’s lime and mint and musky scents. Caressed her silk-clad body as her bedding floated away. Cool air made her shiver, soon replaced with the heat of his body as he took her in his arms, pressing kisses to her temples, hairline and ears.

Delight shivered down her spine. Goose bumps dotted her skin as he nibbled her earlobe. His tongue swirling the whorls caused her to giggle and moan—like her body somehow managing to stiffen and soften together—impossible except in dreams. Impossible except her assailant was Trent Ryder, a man who could easily carry away her heart when he left her bed.

Until he did leave… Please, Venus, permit him to remain all night.

That, sweet mortal is entirely up to you.

Feeling as if Venus had given her permission to indulge in this wondrous dream, Caprice gave in to Trent’s tender persuasion. She matched his every move, gliding her hands over his flexing biceps. While he sought her swelling breasts and circled her rising nipples until they ached for his lips and tongue, her fingers pinched and teased his nipples until they also stiffened, urging her to lick and suck just as he licked and sucked. Arching her back brought her breasts more fully into his warm palms, into his hot and wicked-skillful mouth. Pinned beneath his powerful body, unable to do more than sigh and moaned and sift his thick hair through her trembling fingers, she relaxed completely and let him claim her inch by inch.

Her lashes drooped when he kissed her brows, then lids. Her cheeks learned the texture of his thick eyelashes and the soft scrape of his beard. At last—Sweet Goddess, at last—his lips brushed hers, so softly she feared she’d only imagine their touch. They returned, still soft but firmer, parting hers to caress and explore her mouth with his velvet-rough tongue.

She matched him thrust for thrust, glide for glide and taste for taste. Their harsh gasps melded as each sought dominance over the other’s lips and tongues. Their lower bodies joined the fray—Caprice too mindless to decide if they battled or danced to the dizzying, breath stealing melodies of a waltz.

“Too many clothes.” His deep voice stroked her as he drew her nightgown over her head.

Her gaze locked on his face, she neither knew nor cared where the fragile silk fell. All that mattered was his skin against hers with no barrier between them. The hairs on his thighs felt as soft and silky as those on his head and chest. The curls surrounding his rigid cock, coarse and rough in comparison. Rougher still on his swollen balls.

Curling her fingers around his sac, she gave it a gentle squeeze, delighted when his breath exploded against her arched neck.

“Careful,” he warned, his voice half purr, half growl. “Squeeze too hard and this will end before we begin.”

“I’m sure…we can find…a way to while away—”

His lips sealed hers and she lost the thought. Lost every sense of her surroundings. All that mattered were his touch and the fires his clever fingers lit as they moved over her.

“Spread your legs for me, Caprice.”

With his hand cupping her mound, her pussy clenched around nothing. Craving to have him fill her, she opened her thighs, pushing down his hand so he could feel how wet she was. How ready she was for his fingers, his tongue, his cock.

“P-please, Trent.”

His chuckle made her belly quiver against his cheek. His finger or maybe his thumb rubbing her swollen clit brought a gasp of pleasure to her lips. It emerged as a purr combined with a growl. He stroked her outer labia, then parted them, delving deeper, sliding up and down from her clit to her channel, each stroke nearer than the last, yet still not deep enough.

Grabbing his wrist, she waited until his finger slid over her channel. Thrusting upward seated him exactly where she needed him. And yet he still held the upper hand in every way that mattered. His slight smile echoed the triumph in his midnight black eyes, his pupils so dilated they blanketed the whites. He looked so dominant, almost feral, a bolt of fear jolted her heart, but it vanished when his fingers pressed her g-spot.

Gasping, she thrust up and down, silently begging him to finish what he’d started. “Do me,” she whispered. “Or just stay as you are and let me do myself.”

“Not yet, Caprice. Patience will bring you even greater bliss.”

She didn’t believe him. Neither did her pussy as she willed it to clench and release, striving to fool it into climax and failing. The first swipe of his tongue over her clit lifted her hips off the bed. The second swipe accompanied a gentle pressure on her g-spot.

“Gods, yes!” she sobbed.

He stopped, looking up at her without lifting his head. Tangling her fingers in his hair, she pulled.

“Ouch?” he complained, the word closing his lips over her swollen, aching clit.

Unable to hold her head up any longer, she let it drop back onto her pillow. His laugh vibrated up her clit and through her body, through her clit again to join his fingers’ pressure on that critical spot inside her needy body.

Her hips caught his rhythm, his fingers and tongue pressing and licking as she writhed. Her fingers curled into his scalp, urging him to lick and suck harder, to press and push deeper and deeper.

He did everything she craved except let her come. As she neared the peak, he altered where and how he touched her, leading her along a new path. That path turned upward, once again closing on fulfillment, only to once again veer away. Close to tears, nearly choking on the frustration clogging her throat, the first pebble of her climax trickled down the mountain she so desperately needed to conquer.

“Come for me, Caprice. Come for me now.”

The second pebble skidded away. Others followed, growing denser as the avalanche crashed through her, then buried her in utter ecstasy.

Feeling his beard scrape her cheek, smelling her juices on his lips, she struggled to open her eyes. He kissed her eyelids and then murmured softly in her ear.

“Sweet dreams,” he whispered.

“Deliciously sweet,” she whispered back as she rolled to her side to snuggle against him.