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Albert Camus

Don't walk behind me; I may not lead. Don't walk in front of me; I may not follow. Just walk beside me and be my friend.

Tuesday, March 11, 2014

GLORY DOGS Forged Through Glory by DeZré Storm

Description:18+

Yoland “Kitten” Sleek is used to living in a world of secrets. Born a mixed breed of humanoid, one engineered to kill and another made for pleasure, she explores the galaxy searching for the one source that can protect the privacy of her family: her father. The pleasure breed’s illegal bloodline endangers her existence and brands her with a death sentence. Blackmailed into an agreement with the superiors of her employer, she lands in dangerous hands.

Special Operations Sergeant Brinks “Watch” Dog leads his squadron into the most challenging of planetary environments in service to the Compound Operations Research Exploration (CORE) Unit of the United Human Alliance. Bound to his Squad Leader, Jeremy “Sanction” Weaver, they scour the galaxies hunting to fulfill the missions of the CORE and save a planet’s people. After the rare addition of female Enlist Yoland Sleek to the team, the secrecy surrounding her threatens the squadron’s existence.

Can they keep their minds focused on the mission, or should their attentions deviate to the temptation of Yoland Sleek?
EXCERPT



Sleek sat opposite him at her dining table, only big enough for two, in her small kitchen and reached for the Orland fruit. There always seemed to be more to her Helion commander’s behaviors than looking over his squad. She sensed it, somehow, in the way he looked at her. Why is he in my kitchen making sure I eat before training? Could he possibly care?
The bite of Orland sent the juices from its center dancing down her throat with a slightly metallic burst across her tongue. Its properties would infuse her with energy. She could moan every time she ate it but held back under Dog’s intense gaze. The sergeant demonstrated his appreciation of her by bringing her favorite treats. She eyed the platter and noted it full of only those things which could heal and fortify her, making her ready for their next mission.
The sweet flavor of the Orland played to perfection on her taste buds while she puzzled over her reaction to him in her bedchamber. His presence wasn’t unsettling. Even now, with him stuffing her kitchen with his size, the anxiety she’d grown used to experiencing didn’t come. Am I that tired? The silence thickened with unanswered questions she dare not seek resolution for.
“You don’t like it?” Dog’s voice broke her thoughts.
She brought her attentions to him. “Oh, I’m sorry. The food is very good.”
“Perhaps cramming for your exam has left you with other needs.” His voice near purred.
Her nodes flared with the memory of the sound. Her lips tingled. Her belly warmed. She gritted her teeth. Her Prime had begun to associate the purr with the arousal he brought.
Realization sprung on her. Her acceptance of him was not due to exhaustion. She wanted him here. The thought thumped warmth into her lower belly.
Dammit. He did it.
He had given her just enough of his attention to steer the Prime hormone towards control of her responses. She hoped her reaction to his presence would subside. She was trying to grow used to the intensity of his gaze but never thought she could become comfortable around him. Logically, she knew it wasn’t safe to be in a room with him until she reached dormancy. He would wreak hell on her Prime.
He needs to leave.
“What is that look in your eyes?” he asked.
Her mouth fell open. She lost her thought. Had her nodes flared? Did she release pheromone? Did he scent her arousal?
“I’ve seen that look before.” Dog came to a stand. His large form dominated her kitchen and loomed over her.
Don’t let him touch you. Instant defense whipped into her muscle. Sleek took to her feet, thankful the Aknotian muscle control gave her some dominance over the Prime. She couldn’t risk his touch. The Prime would certainly take the new found comfort level to the next step. The rush of anxiety thumped in her chest.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she hissed, angry at her reaction to his statement. Her knees weakened, making backing away from his advance a challenge.
“The look you have now.” He caught her waist, hauled her against him.
Her breasts made contact with his chest. Her legs pressed against the steel of his. She gasped.
He’s so hard. By the Universe, his [..]’s harder. She struggled to govern her thought against the Prime mating hormone, but Dog was monitoring her features and inhaling her scent. She needed to find the words to stop him.
“Don’t,” she said.
“Why not, femme?”
“You humiliate me,” she whispered.
“Do I?” He stated the question with a purr close behind.
His lips hovered over hers. The tug of lust fury blurred her vision. Another rumble from his chest and she relaxed in his grip. That damned purr.
“I can’t be touched,” she said.
“I must know the look in your eyes. It doesn’t speak humiliation. It isn’t full desire. I’ve seen that look on you, mon chaton. It isn’t satisfaction. That is the look I prefer on you.” He inhaled. “This one smells of fear. Do I frighten you?”
“No.” Her voice rasped with emotion through her terror. The heat of his closeness and relaxation of his purr ate at her Prime senses. Her body was building pressure in her most sensitive areas. Her heart hammered.
Can I awaken without a single intimate touch? The fear of the pending orgasm was drowned by its persistence. She had to stop.
“I can smell it on your skin.” Dog purred. “Fear.”
“I don’t mean to.” Her voice quivered through the first minor tug of her sex. More horror twisted through her anxiety. Distress shortened her breath. She wanted to come. I can’t.
“Why do you look at me in such a way?” he asked.
A question. The relief of it was short lived. She needed to talk; to distract herself from the pleasure of her body, but the inhale brought the chaos of his scent. His pheromone.
“Do my scars frighten?”
She passed a glance over his face. “No.” The answer came swift and breathy. She’d come to ignore the scars cycles ago, but remained captivated by his hard gaze.
“What causes this fear?” he asked.
His question sharpened her anxiety. The Prime. She went rigid in his hold. Her Prime wanted to taste his lips, sample his DNA so it could build a song suitable to their union.
“I’m sorry.” She turned her head away from the tempting heat of his mouth, praying she wouldn’t burst into lust fury. His chest vibrating in a long purr against her breasts was an intoxication she couldn’t escape.
“I watch over you. Have I failed?” he asked.
“No.” The answer was aimed at her internal struggle. Her sex began toying with the LOWD inside it, undulating the defense device to bring some form of satisfaction to the demands of Dog’s presence. She struggled to grapple her thinking while the Prime compelled her instincts to mating. “I will not…be a victim…of my breeding.”
“Nor I, femme.” He purred.
Her eyelids fluttered at the assault his purr ignited. Its sensations drugged her with ease. Her Prime clawed at her mind, sweetly tensing her clit and swelling her breasts with Prime milk. She drew a sharp inhale, scented his pheromone; felt the mark of his desire against her belly.
So hard.
“I do not wish for you to fear me.” Dog’s nose hovered above the node behind her ear. She struggled to close it. His breath rushed out in a heated pant against her neck. “Mon chaton, my precious, I do not wish to fail you.” His lips lingered above her skin. She needed to turn to him, taste them, but remained paralyzed by the shock of her own lust.
I need my mind. She desperately called for sanity.
Dog growled, lifting her up his body by her ass. Her breasts dragged along his front. Thought fizzled. A shaking cry passed her lips. She took hold of his shoulders. “Please, no.”
He walked her to the kitchen's door frame. Her back pressed against it. The feel of his cock pushing against her flesh through the skins pulled a whimper from her.
“Stop,” she whispered. She met his gaze. Her mind was flooded with images of him loving her body. She bit into her bottom lip to stifle the huffy “Yes” threatening to rip from her throat.
“You beg, Chaton? I can’t stop this anymore than you can. I am beyond saving. I want all you can give until the end of my days.”
The end of his days? She struggled to rationalize his statement. Shut her eyes against the rocketing anxiety his purr crushed into her will to stay grounded and not give in to her Prime. Still, her Prime worked on cataloging the pleasures of his flesh, recalling his hands covering impossible amounts of skin and spreading pleasurable tension. She gasped at the tremors in her sex.
“I can only have you, femme.”
“Please,” she said. The tightening of her clit and breachpoint became a maddening hell. She needed some form of release.
I’ll take anything. Anything. Please. Her desperate thoughts wrapped fear around her. This was what father had warned her of. The Prime easily became slaves to pleasure.
Make it stop. Stop.
Dog’s lips lightly traced hers with his own, silken and smooth, leaving the sting of need wherever they touched. Her Prime ignited from the exposure to his DNA against her mouth. The Prime hormone intensified her sense of touch, adjusting to the pressure and texture of his hands, so that no matter how he stroked her, she would be pleased. Her breachpoint tightened to accommodate his finger, the only part of him he ever pressed against her intimate flesh. To her horror, her body had catalogued his hands expertly.
Dog shifted, dragging his hardened chest against her nipples. Her sharp inhale filled her nose with his scent, calling out to her Prime to open her nodes and share her desire to mate. His purr boiled sensation through her spine.
No. Don’t.
Her vision turned silver. She gripped at the wall behind her to ground her mind on something stable. Sleek plummeted into the exploding orgasm, sending fragments of their song to Dog’s ears. She gyrated against him and drew her lust fury.
He tensed, provided more steel to the friction of their contact and lengthening the time of her song.
“Was that for me, Chaton?” His whisper wrapped her ear.
Damn the Prime. She panted for recovery. Tears of embarrassment stung her eyes. She shivered, finding the word she desperately needed. “Go.”

Dog allowed her to gain her footing and cupped her face. “We’ll continue this. Next time, Chaton, I guarantee there will be less clothing involved.”



About the author:
Tales of adventure, love and sexuality have always intrigued and inspired DeZré Storm. Weaving stories of strong character, action adventure, paranormal encounters and steaming sex make DeZré Storm tales perfect for anyone seeking a heart-pounding and spicy get away. This author doesn’t mind taking your imagination to exciting new places.

Readers that crave adventurous sexy stories set in imperfect worlds will enjoy DeZré Storm novels. Glory Dog’s action and sensuality is guaranteed to keep you panting. 

Careful. It gets hot under the cover.

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