Authors: Selena Kitt
Bluebeard (8 page)
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Selena Kitt is a NEW YORK TIMES bestselling and award-winning author of erotic and romance fiction. She is one of the highest selling erotic writers in the business with over a million books sold!
Her writing embodies everything from the spicy to the scandalous, but watch out-this kitty also has sharp claws and her stories often include intriguing edges and twists that take readers to new, thought-provoking depths.
When she’s not pawing away at her keyboard, Selena runs an innovative publishing company (excessica.com) and bookstore (excitica.com), as well as two erotica and erotic romance promotion companies (excitesteam.com and excitespice.com).
Her books EcoErotica (2009), The Real Mother Goose (2010) and Heidi and the Kaiser (2011) were all Epic Award Finalists. Her only gay male romance, Second Chance, won the Epic Award in Erotica in 2011. Her story, Connections, was one of the runners-up for the 2006 Rauxa Prize, given annually to an erotic short story of “exceptional literary quality.”
She can be reached on her website at
www.selenakitt.com
Start now with PINOCCHIO – and look for more COMING SOON!
PINOCCHIO, ALADDIN, JACK AND THE BEANSTALK, PETER AND THE WOLF, RUMPLESTILTSKIN, THE FROG PRINCE
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MODERN WICKED FAIRY TALES: PINOCCHIO
In this modern version of the fairy tale classic Pinocchio, marine Levi Woodyer—known as “Woody” to his special ops team—is on a medical discharge, a man with a haunted past, a painful present and an uncertain future.
His father watches, powerless to help his son, as Levi slips further between the cracks, and troubled Levi doesn’t seem to be too interested in helping himself.
But when his father’s simple bribe finally gets Levi out of the house to a physical therapy appointment, his encounter with former high school sweetheart, Linnea Fey, just might put him on the path to wholeness again.
EXCERPT:
She raised her eyebrows, writing something down. “Bad landing?”
“Bad timing.” Bad everything, really. The whole thing had been FUBAR from the beginning. He should have called it off, should have listened to Cricket. “The chalk was dropped in twenty-seven knot winds.”
Linney shook her head, glancing up at him and frowning, looking for a translation.
He gave her one. “Thirteen knots is the legal limit for civilians.”
“Ouch.” Her eyes widened.
“You can say that again.” He flashed a bitter smile, counting off his injuries on his fingers. “Let’s see, I’ve got severe cranial nerve damage. There was extensive ligament damage, all the way from the top of my head down to the middle of my spine. My jaw was actually torn away from my skull. I couldn’t talk for three months. I broke my tailbone, my rib cage was torn away from my spine…”
“I got it, I got it.” She held up her hand, shuddering.
“Oh hell, I was lucky,” he scoffed. “One guy didn’t make it.”
“Oh Levi, I’m so sorry.” The compassion in her voice made his throat close with emotion. “So you’re here for help with your pain?”
“I’m here…” He shrugged, crossing his arms over his chest and looking at her askance. “I’m here because my dad bribed me. He told me I could drive the Boss if I showed up to this appointment. You can’t help me, Linney. No one is going to be able to put humpty dumpty back together again.”
“Well we’ll see about that.” She offered him a smile, and a hand. “Will you lie down for me?”
Damn but she was irresistible. Her hand was small and warm in his. It was laughable, the idea of her helping him up, but he took her hand anyway, letting her lead him toward the examining table.
“On your belly,” she directed. He did as she asked, stretching out, arms crossed over his head, cheek pressed to the paper on the table. Her hands moved slowly, carefully, over his back, her fingers feeling each vertebrae of his spine. “So, how is your dad?”
“As stubborn as ever,” he snorted, wincing as her fingers made their way up to his neck.
“Face down.” She reached around, adjusting the table so a hole appeared for his face, allowing him to turn his head. Her hands pressed, pulled, making him cringe. It felt like there were marbles in there, shifting painfully under her probing fingers. “The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, does it?”
“Damn, Linney, do you have to be so honest?” He gritted his teeth as her thumbs met at the base of his neck, pressing hard, spreading. “Fuuuucccck!”
“Does that hurt?” She asked the question but didn’t stop when he groaned in the affirmative. “Besides, honesty is the best policy. I could have dealt with heroin. But cheating? Behind my back? You know how much I hate lying.”
“I remember.” He did. It was one of the reasons he knew it would never work, as much as they talked about trying. You couldn’t be a marine and not keep things from your girlfriend—or wife. And Linney hated lies, even if they were for her own good. Or for the sake of national security. He could almost hear her scoff, “Oh whatever!”
She’s a keeper, Captain…
Damned Cricket.
Shut the hell up,
he argued back, feeling ridiculous.
I missed that ride a long time ago.
“I’m sorry he hurt you.” He wasn’t just apologizing for her ex, and the way her hands moved over his back, it felt as if she knew it. Somehow, whenever Cricket talked to him, he was almost always moved, even if he argued with the bastard in his head.
Her touch was suddenly gentle, caressing the wings of his shoulder blades, cupping his bare shoulders and squeezing. His body remembered her. Her hands on his shoulders reminded him of the way she clutched him when he entered her, wrapping those deliciously long legs around his waist. Her fingers dug into his shoulders, loosening his muscles, and he groaned, letting himself close his eyes and enjoy the sensation. His cock ached, throbbing against the table.
“Can you roll to your back?” she murmured, so close to his ear he felt her breath against his cheek. She smelled delicious.
He did as she asked, slowly, urging his erection away and praying she wouldn’t notice.
“Nice ink,” she commented, running a finger in a slow line down from his shoulder.
“Most marines make ink a hobby.” He glanced at the place where her finger stopped.
“The ‘semper fi’ makes sense,” she said, rubbing the words on the inside of his forearm. His entire team had the same tattoo. “But this? Reminds me of that book we read in grade school.”
“What book?”
Her hands moved again, this time exploring his shoulders, his chest, her expression intent, head cocked as if she was listening for something.
“
Cricket in Times Square
. Do you remember that one?” She smiled at the inked cricket on his shoulder. “Yours is so realistic!”