One of my favorite reasons for writing stories that take place during the summer months is sex. Indoor sex can be smokin’ hot, no question, but outdoor sex offers so many variables and possibilities. Add the risk of being caught that comes with ‘doing it’ (whatever the ‘it’ may be) in a less-than-private location, and outdoor sex becomes hotter than hot.
My debut novel, GAME PLAN, is set in the summer months. Mason and Andie have sexual encounters in a downtown alley, the front seat of a pickup truck while parked in front of a store, while waiting in a long drive-thru line, and later, in the back of that truck.
My newest release, BODY OF WORK, also has a summer setting, and Brian and Cassie definitely take advantage of the warm weather. They make excellent use of a park pavilion and a sugar maple tree in Cassie’s yard.
Here’s an excerpt from BODY OF WORK featuring that sugar maple tree…
His fingers curled around her waist. He used his power and size to back her up to the maple before she’d registered their first step. “Take your pants down to the knees.”
“I guess that’s a yes to my terms.”
No acknowledgement, unless a raised eyebrow counted. Intensity and amusement played across his face. He released her to cross his arms over his chest, making muscles bulge and pop out all over the place. Half a foot separated them, enough space for her to move away if that’s what she wanted. Maybe he was testing her. Bossing her around to see if she’d change her mind.
“I’d suggest we shake on our agreement, but I don’t think my old patio set can take the kind of strain we put on that picnic table in the pavilion.”
“How about this tree, think it can take it?” His hand thudded against the trunk. He kept his eyes locked on hers as he ran his palm up and down the old maple, skimming the side of her body along the way. “What about you? This bark’s pretty rough—it’s going to hurt when it digs into your soft skin, and it will dig in, because if you’re brave enough to take those pants down, I’m going to let the brute fuck you any way he likes.”
Her cheeks burned. She shifted foot to foot, acutely aware of the satin teasing her nipples, the tight jeans pressing against her clit. “I’m ready for him.”
His jaw ticked and his eyes darkened. “Then get those pants down, now.”
She scrambled to obey, fingers trembling as they fumbled with the buckle. The wide belt had been a chore to fit through the belt loops and the stiff leather made undoing it harder yet. “New belt, it needs breaking in.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” One corner of his mouth lifted—from reading her mind, no doubt—when her hands froze in their efforts. “Here. Let me.”
She nodded, swallowing a mouthful of cotton as he took over the job. But he didn’t pull the strip of leather free of the belt loops. Didn’t order her to bend over so he could use it to paint stripes on her ass. He just separated the metal buckle from the opposite end, one-handed her button open and slid the zipper down, all without looking away from her face.
“Take off your bra.”
“Okay.” Hands shaking, she reached around for the clasp. Then the hem of her t-shirt.
“Just the bra. Keep the shirt on.”
She slid the straps down her arms, clearing each wrist in a wholly unsexy manner, then pulled the white satin bust-enhancer out of one sleeve. “And there goes my artificial cleavage.”
“You’ve got something better—perfect nipples. I like seeing them poke through your shirt. Like at the gym when you wear that light-purple tank top, or the white one. Those tops don’t hide much. Did you know your nipples get hard when you’re working out?”
“Really…I had no idea.” Batted eyelashes, along with feigned innocence, did the trick. The sound that came from his chest was part chuckle, part growl. And oh god, was it hot.
Beneath the thin red fabric her nipples tightened. Like a good hussy, she arched her back to make their condition more visible. Her breath caught when he lowered his head. The words bite me hovered on the tip of her tongue. All that came out of her mouth was a choked cry of frustration as he grazed the cloth-covered nubs in passing.
He crouched before her, his mouth level with her open zipper. “Pants are coming down now. Last chance to get away.” Above him, she shook her head. “No? Good.” He gathered her jeans, belt and panties in his fists and pulled the lot down to her knees a heck of a lot easier than the skintight jeans had gone up. “No,” he said when she lifted one leg to step out of her pants. “This is where they stay.”
“But I won’t be able to open my legs,” she wiggled in demonstration, “or move.”
“I know.” His smile bordered on feral. He grabbed both ends of her belt and yanked, squeezing her legs closer together, then fastened the buckle above her knees. “Comfortable?”
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