My Thoughts
Holy hotness. West is just delish. I absolutely loved how he and Mia met at her bestie's bachelorette party at his strip club. They share a sizzling lap dance and then a night of passion not thinking they would see each other again. They were both surprised when business brings them together again and Mia tries really hard to keep things professional between them. There is no resisting hottie West though and he wants more than her body. He wants it all. I really loved these two together and so enjoyed their story.
I give Stripped Bare 5 hearts!
I give Stripped Bare 5 hearts!
About the Book
What do you get when you mix a bachelorette party, the queen
of dating disasters, and a stripper so hot he was forged from the fires of
hell? Screwed. You get screwed....
Cocky. Commanding. Powerful. Relentless.
Those four words all summed up West Rykman perfectly.
So did filthy, dirty, sexy, and addictive.
He was supposed to be my one night stand...not my new
marketing client.
He was definitely not supposed to be back inside my pants,
not that anybody told him that.
I knew one thing: What West Rykman wanted, West Rykman got.
And he wanted me.
What happens in Vegas... might just make you stay.
Purchase Links
Amazon US: http://amzn.to/1UXgDFs
Amazon UK: http://bit.ly/StrippedBare-UK
Amazon AU: http://bit.ly/StrippedBareAU
Amazon CA: http://bit.ly/StrippedBareCA
Barnes & Noble: http://bit.ly/StrippedBare-BN
Excerpt
“Hi,” I said into the phone. “What’s up?”
“Me,” he rumbled back. “I’m pretty sure I’ve been hard all
fucking day.”
I swallowed. Was this phone sex? I’d never done phone sex
before.
“West?”
“Yeah?”
“Are we going to have phone sex?”
He paused. “Do you want to have phone sex?”
“Are you hard?”
“I’m always hard when I think about you.”
I felt like I needed to preen a little. “I’ve never had
phone sex before.”
“What kind of assholes have you been dating?”
“You really don’t want to go there. We’ll be here all night.
I mean, seriously. I bore myself at this point.”
“You’re rambling. Are you drunk?”
“I wish,” I mumbled. I needed to be drunk to phone-sex,
didn’t I?
Yes, I decided, blankly staring at my TV. I did. And not
just any kind of drunk. I needed to be absolutely hammered.
“You didn’t answer the question, Mia,” he said softly.
Oh. Right. Did I want to. Well, I had looked at that picture
several times...
“Yes. I want to.” I was officially crazy. I’d lost my mind.
No doubt about it.
“Where are you right now?”
Through the phone, I heard a door shut.
“Are you in bed?” he asked.
“No.”
“Get into bed. Take your clothes off first.”
His tone was commanding and strong, and before I could think
it through, I was in my room, my phone was on the bed, and I was stripping down
to my underwear.
I picked the phone up and climbed in bed. “I’m in bed.”
“Good.” His voice was a little gruff. “What are you
wearing?”
I bit down on my lower lip and glanced at the scarlet-red
underwear set I had on. “Hold on.” I brought up the camera on my phone, kicked
the sheets to the side, and took a photo of myself using the front camera. It
was good enough, so I texted it to him. “Check your messages.”
He was silent for a good few seconds. Then there was,
“Jesus, Mia. Fucking hell.”
“Do you...like it?”
“Like it? You look sexy as fuck. If I were with you right
now, I’d rip those fucking panties off you.”
“And do what?” Look at me go.
He laughed slightly. “Kiss you,” he answered roughly, all
traces of laughter from his voice gone. “I’d run my hands up your body as you
wrap your legs around my waist.”
I swallowed, my clit aching as the low tone of his voice
mixed with his words turned me on.
“I’d kiss down your neck and unclasp your bra so I could
touch your gorgeous tits.”
My hand hovered as I contemplated doing it—and then I did
it. One quick fiddle with the clasp between them and my bra cups fell to my
side. My nipples were hard, and I cupped my right breast, my thumb ghosting
over my nipple.
“I’d take them in my mouth. Roll my tongue over your hard
nipples until you moan beneath me and beg me for more.”
My eyes closed.
“And then I’d kiss my way down your stomach to those tiny,
red panties.”
My hand took on a life of its own as it followed his words.
My fingertips trailed down the center of my stomach until they brushed the
waistband of the red lace thong.
“Then what?” I asked.
“Then I’d peel them down your legs and, once they were off,
open your legs so I could see your wet little pussy.” He exhaled. “Are you
naked?”
“Yes,” I replied softly.
“I want to see you.”
“Will you send one back?”
“Yes.”
“Okay,” I whispered. Then I awkwardly took a picture.
Luckily it wasn’t blurred, and no sooner had I sent it to
him than one came right back. No face, just like mine, and my eyes skipped
right over the hot body to where he looked like he had a tight grip on his
cock.
I struggled to right my breathing. I was even more turned on
now, seeing that he was too.
“Fuck, Mia. I’m so hard for you.”
I swallowed. “Are you touching yourself?”
“Yes. But, if you send me another picture like that, I won’t
need to.” He paused. “Are you touching yourself?”
“Not yet.”
“Touch yourself. Now. Open your legs and slide your fingers
over your clit.” The demanding tone was back, and I loved the thrill that
danced down my spine on a shiver. “Rub it and put a finger inside your pussy. I
want to know how you feel when you fuck your own tight pussy.”
My heart pounded in my chest as I did what he’d said. I slid
my hand down between my legs, ghosted a fingertip over my clit, and bit down on
my lower lip as I pushed my middle finger inside myself.
“Move it,” he ordered me, his voice gruff. “Rub your thumb
against your clit. Fuck your own hand, Mia, and imagine it’s mine. Imagine I’m
there watching you finger yourself and get off.”
About the Author
By day, New York Times and USA Today Bestselling New Adult
author Emma Hart dons a cape and calls herself Super Mum to two beautiful
little monsters. By night, she drops the cape, pours a glass of whatever she
fancies - usually wine - and writes books.
Emma is working on Top Secret projects she will share with
her followers and fans at every available opportunity. Naturally, all Top
Secret projects involve a dashingly hot guy who likes to forget to wear a
shirt, a sprinkling (or several) of hold-onto-your-panties hot scenes, and a
whole lotta love.
She likes to be busy - unless busy involves doing the
dishes, but that seems to be when all the ideas come to life.
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