9781618850676UnchainedMelodyHunter

 

 

UNCHAINED MELODY

Hill
County Heart 1

 

Sable Hunter

 

 

EROTIC
ROMANCE

 

Secret
Cravings Publishing

www.secretcravingspublishing.com

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A Secret Cravings
Publishing Book

Erotic Romance

 

 

UNCHAINED MELODY (HILL COUNTY HEART 1)

Copyright © 2011 by Sable Hunter

E-book ISBN: 978-1-61885-067-6

 

First E-book Publication: November 2011

 

Cover design by Beth Walker

Edited by
Ariana
Gaynor

Proofread by
Keisa
Burrell

All cover art and logo copyright © 2011 by Secret Cravings
Publishing

 

ALL
RIGHTS RESERVED:
This literary work may not be reproduced
or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or
photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written
permission.

 

All
characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual
persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.

PUBLISHER

Secret
Cravings Publishing

www.secretcravingspublishing.com

Dedication

I
dedicate this book to my family and friends.

Thank
you for all of your love and support.

 

The author acknowledges
the trademark status and the following trademark owners mentioned in this work
of fiction:

iPhone

Jaguar

Dodge Viper

Dolce

UNCHAINED MELDOY

Hill County Heart 1

Sable Hunter

Copyright
© 2011

 

Chapter One

 

 

 

“Touch me,” she begged as she unbuttoned the tight blue jeans of the
handsome cowboy. He held her so tenderly. Jenna rained soft, eager kisses on the
hard jaw line roughened with sexy stubble. The friction on her lips fueled her
desire for friction between her legs.

She thrust her naked, aching breasts up toward his face and he answered
her bold invitation by capturing a hard nipple between hungry lips. As she
moaned, he began to feast on the soft, succulent flesh. He pulled as much of
her breast into his mouth as he could and began to eagerly suck on the tender
mound. Jenna began to tremble, her other breast jealous for the same attention
its fortunate twin was receiving. As if able to read her mind, he left the one
breast, only to move to the other and begin encircling the swollen areola in a
feverish dance with his tongue that almost sent her over the edge.

Hungry for more, she stroked his hard length and whispered, “I need
you. Let me suck your cock. Please?” He tore his mouth from her breast and
helped her remove the last of his restrictive clothing. When their clothes were
finally off, just for a moment, they were still. He stood over her and let his
eyes roam up the length of her tanned legs, up over her silk-covered treasure,
on to the bountiful breasts that were still damp and reddened from the
ravishing they had received.

Unable to wait any longer, she sank down at his feet. Reaching out a
tentative finger, she touched the distended length of him, admiring the thick,
engorged treat beckoning her like a banquet tempting a starving man. Jenna
brazenly grasped his substantial manhood and carefully drew him to her, close
enough to swirl the tip of her tongue around the large, velvety head. A groan
escaped her lips, and the sound echoed from the lips of the man she pleasured. The
taste of him excited her like an aphrodisiac—salty, musky—all man. He
spasmodically jerked at her touch, the pleasure almost more than he could
stand.

She sat up on her knees, wrapping her arms around his strong thighs and
drew him even closer, all the while teasing him with her tongue. With a
trembling hand, she caressed his rock hard hip, which was clenching and
unclenching in a rhythmic motion, the same involuntary movement echoing in her
molten pussy. She slid her other hand around his broad thigh and tenderly
cupped his velvety sac. This tactile invasion caused him to surge toward her
and she responded by taking even more of him into her warm mouth, sucking
eagerly. The cowboy’s large rough hand tenderly cupped Jenna’s head, holding it
stationary, and she released his balls to see to her own needs, rubbing her own
fingers over her swollen, hungry clit…

With
a frustrated groan, Annalise Ramsey pushed the laptop computer away from her. Writing
hot, sensual sex scenes completely drained her. No matter how hard she tried to
steel herself against it, the steamy descriptions never failed to turn her on. At
first she fought the urge to lie back on the pillows and touch herself. She
really didn’t have the time, a troublesome deadline loomed. This book, for some
reason, was not coming as easy for her as some of the other ones had in the
past. But the torturous longing that ate at her loins was excruciating. Unable
to deny herself, she hastily unbuttoned her lace camisole and unfastened the
plain white bra. Hiking up her cotton skirt, Annalise tugged her briefs down
and opened her legs wide, as if in invitation, all the time seeing
his
face. Already, her nipples were peaking, reaching upward like a flower, seeking
his
warm, tugging lips. Memories of how
he
had suckled her, feasting at her breasts made the heat rise in
her body like a supernova.

Annalise
covered both of her breasts with her own small hands and began a rubbing,
massaging onslaught on the aching flesh, circling the tips, teasing herself. Her
breasts and nipples were ultra-sensitive. That was one of the things Ethan had
loved about her body and he had prided himself on his ability to bring her to a
raging climax just by worshipping at her breasts. Annalise let herself enjoy
the moment, the thoughts of Ethan, the feel of her nipples as she pushed them
into her palm, scraping them with her own fingernails. Soon even that was not
enough. Knowing what she liked the best, she began to milk her nipples, pulling
them out and rubbing them between her thumb and forefinger, causing spirals and
sparks of ecstasy to shoot directly to her womb. “Oh God, Ethan. I want you so
much. I miss you.” Annalise hadn’t been with a man in six years and there was
only one she wanted to be with. Ethan Stewart.

Closing
her eyes, she imagined he was here, his beautiful body stretched over her, as
hungry for her as she was for him. Everything within her cried out for him. Annalise
had no qualms about masturbating. She didn’t do it often, but when the words
she crafted and the memories she held dear overwhelmed her, she allowed herself
this small measure of comfort. Knowing full well the likelihood of ever having
another lover was next to none, she found solace in her stories and in her
yesterdays. Still manipulating one breast, she used the other hand to tease her
ravenous vulva, tracing the nether lips, pulling on them, making her clitoris
quiver in anticipation. Soon she wanted more.

Reaching
into the bedside table, she extracted her dildo, which she had named Comfort
and Joy. The pink jackrabbit had been a Christmas present to herself and while
it did bring her pleasure, it was a poor substitute for Ethan’s magnificent
cock. What made Comfort and Joy so wicked was the clitoral stimulator. The
insertable
shaft was only about five and a half inches
long, unfortunately, about three and a half short of her former lover’s
glorious rod. Still, it was what she had. Already wet and weeping, she parted he
folds with one hand and edged the rubber dildo into her desperately empty
channel. “Oh God, Ethan. Love me, please love me.” Pushing on the shaft, she
positioned the piece designed to dance against her clit. This particular model had
a remote control and she had this down to a science. Turning it on full blast,
the shaft began to rotate and thrust and the stimulator began vibrating at a
high rate of speed, causing her to raise her hips and curl her toes. Tossing from
side to side, Annalise maneuvered the dildo in and out, in and out, visions of
Ethan scorching her brain. It was if she were having an out-of-body experience,
floating above herself, seeing the Ethan of her dreams, weighing her down, his
strong muscled hips and thighs moving like a piston, battering at her grateful
body, launching them both into a realm of exquisite rapture. Annalise felt her
internal muscles ripple along the rubber rod.

How
sad. She had so much love to give. So much passion. And how glorious the
remembrances of those eight passionate nights she had been Ethan Stewart’s
lover. With a sigh, she let herself relax and gently pulled out the vibrator. Her
body was semi-satisfied, but her heart still longed for something it would
never have again.

It
only took a few moments to re-adjust her clothes, clean Comfort and Joy and then
put him back to bed. Dragging the laptop to her, she attempted to force her way
back into the story. Annalise loved her work and she was good at it. Two awards
and twelve best-selling novels attested to the level of her skill. The romance
reading community had been good to her and she was committed to writing the
red-hot, yet poignant love stories that her fans had come to expect. If the
truth be known, Annalise lived in her stories. In each one she created a world
and populated it with a gutsy heroine and exciting, provocative situations, but
the hero was always the same. In the pages of her books, Annalise reconnected
with Ethan, the man who had taught her sex could be beautiful and that
once-upon-a-time she had been a desirable woman.

Over
the years, many had asked her why a woman of her obvious beauty and sensuality
would choose to remain unattached and never seek out the company of a man. Her
attractive appearance and glamorous occupation were at odds with her chosen
lifestyle. Annalise preferred her own company, immersing herself in her writing–avoiding
most social situations—preferring the company of her dog and her daydreams.

When
people looked at her—they saw a small woman, about five-foot-four, with long
dark hair and big brown eyes that sometimes had a haunted look about them. Her
body was perfectly curved—not the slim, coltish figure that was so popular
these days. The features of her face, the high cheekbones and the small
upturned nose had been passed down from her French Creole grandmother. Altogether,
Annalise was a very appealing woman; a woman who seemed to have an abundance of
love and warmth to offer the right man—yet she chose to remain alone.

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