Excerpt from Candy Hearts and Flours in I'm No Saint, Valentine

Hi all,

Here's an excert from I'm No Saint, Valentine, with Rhiannon Neeley.

In this, Mariah--a demon from Hell sent to Earth to find and seduce a saint--has seen Patrick as a man for the first time. She thinks he's the saint she's been looking for, when in fact he's an angel taking a second chance on Earth in order to save someone's soul. He thinks it's John's--the man Mariah mentions.

I hope you enjoy!

Then she heard it. Water! It hadn’t been in her dream, it had been in the little room with the white bowl. Setting the cat on the bed, she charged to the room. The sound of running water ceased, but she threw open the door anyway, half expecting to be swept away in a torrent.

Her eyes widened. Patrick stood in the long white box, perfectly naked. Emphasis on perfect.

“Mariah, what are you doing in here?” A cloth dangled from his hand but he seemed unable to move.

Droplets clung to his hair and skin. She’d known he was tall, but fully clothed he didn’t seem to reach the height he was now, in all his bare magnificence. Strong, sinewy muscles defined his shoulders and upper arms. His wrists seemed delicate in comparison, but his hands mysteriously held equal parts strength and tenderness. The columns of muscle forming his legs took her breath away, and his man-thing. Oh, my! She fell back against the wall at the size and thickness of it hanging between his thighs.

He was splendid, in every way. Mariah had seen many specimens of males in Hell, and none approximated the greatness of Patrick, in looks or stature. None made her feel the way he did, either. With a suddenness that staggered her, heat filled her belly. She licked her lips. With delight, she saw Patrick watch the movement. His man-thing grew in size and began to rise. Fascinating! She wanted to touch it. Smiling slowly, she pushed away from the wall and walked to him.

“What is this for?” She touched the cloth. Belatedly he tried to cover himself, but she took it from him.

“To dry myself.” His voice rasped. “Where are the pajamas I bought you?”

Tilting her head, she ran her finger down his arm, connecting the dots of liquid until they flowed in a solid stream. “I don’t sleep in clothes but I didn’t want you to think me unappreciative of the gift. When you turned onto your side, I removed them.”

“Oh,” he whispered. In a stronger voice he added, “You shouldn’t be in here right now. I’m, uh, I’m naked. And you’re naked, and it’s not right.”

But his man-thing rose higher, gaining girth and hardness. She placed her palm on the top and found it to be smooth and soft. Her fingertips explored the length of his shaft, drawing a deep groan from him. Hard as granite, long as a pike.

Full and heavy, her breasts ached to be caressed. She rubbed them against his chest. His breathing grew rough.

“This isn’t right, Mariah. I beg you to leave.”

The cloth trailed from her hand where she rested it on his shoulder. “Why do people wet themselves just to dry off, Patrick? And why use this cloth, when I am available?” Applying her tongue to his nipple, she lapped all of the moisture from the flat brown disk and then suckled him.

“Mariah,” he moaned.

Never had she felt such power. Who could’ve imagined domination would come so naturally? Patrick was a saint--she felt his goodness instinctively, and he smelled so ... clean, he had to be the man she sought. Certainly no one else in this hellish city except John came close. She could seduce Patrick. She knew she could.

Turning her attention to his other nipple, she managed to stroke his man-thing, too. Burning need filled her. The mechanics of seduction she knew. But she wasn’t prepared for how her actions would affect her. She’d had no inkling of the spiraling tension building in her or how the blinding need for release would grip her.

Patrick grasped her arms and forced her away. His breathing seemed tied to the speed she pumped his man-thing. It jumped in her hand and he cried out. “Please stop, Mariah. Don’t-don’t do this.”

“Patrick.” She purred his name. “I need you inside me. You know you want to.”

His eyes were wild. Harsh breath rasped from his throat and his hands tightened on her arms. “Don’t-don’t... Stop.” With a groan of surrender, he lifted her to the rim of the box and crushed her to him. His hips ground his man-thing into her stomach. Their mouths met and he ate at her, devouring her lips, thrusting his tongue inside to taste, and taste and...