Reily's Erotic Romance Snippets

Carnal Beginnings

The woman needed help, even if she didn’t realize it. As a private investigator, he’d seen this scenario rehearsed many times. For reasons unknown, human nature’s broken record played out on the Mobius strip, fate having trapped him in the loop. 
     The steady slap and scrape of his windshield wipers whisked the few drops of rain from his windshield, evidence that heaven cried for its angels. He stomped the accelerator. His Mazda ate up the miles as he tried to focus his mind. The closer he got to her house, the more his mind screamed with recriminations…Too late. You should have come to her house this morning.
     Stones skittered into the grass bordering her driveway as his car slid to a stop in front of her bungalow. The one with the front door ajar. Oh God, I am too late. Not again. He had little recollection of getting out of his car or running into her house. He knew in his gut, he’d failed. He’d promised her he’d help, and he failed. It didn’t matter that she’d ignored his advice.
     In the middle of the living room floor, she lay face down, remnants of pain still etched in her expression. Naked, blood pooled under her abdomen in an ever-widening arc. Spatters of red adorned the surrounding wall cabinets, TV, and sofa. Her hair, burnt copper in the fading light streaming through the bay window, didn’t cover her wide staring eyes. His heart pounded in his chest, sweat beaded his forehead. With shaking fingers, he bent and touched her neck, a pulse, a weak one, fast and thready. She’ll never make it, his subconscious roared through his head as he snatched up his cell to dial nine one one.

   The universe he bellowed his pain to felt colder than her body. The warmth of her soul flowed out, staining the carpet with wild abandon. He could smell the residue of gunpowder. The yapping of her ankle biter at his feet didn’t register in his mind until he saw its footprints surrounding the woman’s thin frame, written in her blood.
     There were no second chances. His excuses wouldn’t comfort her now.
     A combination of ignorance and nonchalance framed the bull’s eye she wore on her forehead. He’d advised her to leave home two days ago. They could handle legalities later but not if she lacked a pulse. Stubborn woman insisted on returning. Her late morning call today surprised him, finally ready to pack and leave. Failure to meet him at his office did not.
  The setting sun reminded him her husband would be off work soon, probably carry his rage home looking for a target. Lord, this brought back some of his own buried memories. No time for that now.
Carnal Innocence


   “Okay, Callie, by the numbers. Twenty seconds—cross the courtyard, navigate the breach in the fence then we’re home free. Sebastian’s waiting beyond the copse of trees.”
     Timing remained her key to survival. The erratic pounding pulse in her ears rivaled a snare drum’s buzz roll, executioner’s beat. Before the adrenaline in her blood circuited again, either she’d be free or dead, depending which card destiny threw her way.
     Long sleeves failed to thwart the effect of icy crystals intent on covering her. The deep shiver originated from equal parts emotional and physical parentage.
     “Whatever happens, don’t look back, and don’t hesitate regardless of what you hear.”
     A rearward glance revealed the frosty night breeze glazing the sheen of sweat on Jake’s forehead to a cold luster. The steel in his gaze matched the resolve in his harsh whisper.
     An impressive first snowfall whirled its frozen burden in quarter-sized swirling flakes creating a misty veil camouflage for their escape. Thick, quivering Camellia leaves further crippled her scrutiny of the facility’s front.
     A mind for facts and logic hampered her ability to incorporate or balance the chaotic pandemonium swirling in her head just as snow-laden whirlwinds hindered her view. If she wasn’t such a concrete thinker regarding things such as karma or kismet as hogwash, perhaps she’d see things differently. But this was her world.
     Anxiety innervated and stimulated her senses, twisted higher by the potential for failure. Yet her body couldn’t distinguish between the urges to run or freeze, caught in a limbo of her biological making.
     Beside her, Franklin leaned forward. His outstretched arm was a reminder of the bars she’d see if they failed tonight—and survived.
     “But, Jake, you’re coming too…” One hand gripped the corner of the building to counterbalance her sudden panic.
   This storm fit seamlessly into their plan, obscuring their images on the cameras at each corner of the facility. Yet reality trumped fiction in eccentricity, making the possibility of unlikely circumstances cropping up and interfering with their escape a probability.
     Always considerate regardless of the situation, Jake wrapped his jacket about her shoulders. The warmth of the heavily lined sleeves expelled the last of her hesitation. “Thanks.”
     “Of course I’m coming. We’re in this together. You’ll have a life independent of these bastards. You’re the reason I’ve worked here for so long and this is our best chance at freedom. Now let’s go, time to set you free, flaxen-haired warbler.” Confidence radiated in concentric circles from him as he alluded to one of her favorite diversions, singing. Yet thick, elongated fingers of moonlight filtered through the gauzy clouds in sporadic streaks to capture the doubt in his eyes.
     “But the guards are still up in their booths. I thought they’d be gone…” The earlier excitement of escape dulled with the reality of the threat they now faced. These two men risked their lives for her.
     “No, Callie. Unnecessary. They are sympathetic to our cause, namely, your escape. They know both the risk to themselves and what’s at stake. I’ll be right behind you.”
     Jake’s words failed to blunt the taste of bile rising in her throat. The gentle reminder in his sotto voice energized her more than his slight nudge. With a quick glance at each visible corner of the building, one to her left, the other behind her, hair on her nape prickled. Something felt—off.
profiles on the second story corners. Light glinted off the barrels of their automatic rifles as a reminder of their intended purpose. Did she know them?
     Beside her, Franklin’s nod further bolstered her courage. Crouching low, she bolted across the well-maintained yard bordering the institution. Franklin grasping her right hand and urging her faster lent additional strength.
     Islands of shrubbery stood in stark relief against the thickening snow. Mother Nature’s tempest now blanketed the earth with its slippery covering which delineated every step she took.
Jake wouldn’t explain the details but at least twelve men and women conspired to participate in her daring escape. Most of these conspirators comprised the skeletal crew currently inside.
     Even if someone raised an alarm, Jake guaranteed those collaborators would come to her defense. The only wildcards were the perimeter guards and those watching the security camera feeds from the bowels of the institution.
     Twenty meters into her daring bid for freedom, concurrent circumstances doubled her frantic pulse. An earsplitting siren blasted behind her, eliciting a gasp, and Jake rushing forward to grab her left arm. Additional pressure urged her to tap into her energy reserves.
     Wind droning through nearby tree limbs didn’t swallow the low thwacking sound nearby—like snapping rubber bands that had been stretched tight. Jake stumbled into her path.
Franklin’s harsh lateral jerk created a brief shuffle step as they raced for the fence. A small strop of light revealed his grim, determined look.
     “Damn it. You okay, Jake?” The wind’s murmur consumed Franklin’s harsh whisper.
     “Keep going, Callie. Don’t stop. I’m okay.” Jake’s strained voice galvanized her determination even as he tugged harder.

Carnal Whispers: Mind Stalker


Pushing open the door on the far right granted a jaw-dropping view framed by French doors and more large windows. Beyond the sand dunes, an offshore breeze stirred dazzling white caps as far as the eye could see. Each backwash created filaments that floated on restless air currents above tumultuous waters. Waking up to a salty breeze, cuddled to the likes of Marc Crofton would star in her dreams for many nights to come.
A massive, ornate iron headboard stood against the far wall. Woodsmen style bedspread and soft, satin sheets covering the king-size bed with storage cabinets underneath provided the perfect stage for exciting nighttime activities. Surely, the occupants rarely slept.
Her life, like the cottage she’d occupied, remained spartan and utilitarian, unlike this room designed for a man with particular tastes and who could afford the best.
Pete nudged her forward. She choked on the images flashing through her mind on a continuous, lascivious reel of orgiastic play. Both headboard and foot board contained vertical iron spindles in their grills, perfect for bondage.
Several steps in, she stumbled over a thick, soft rug, geometric shapes in neutral shades, thicker than anything she’d ever felt. Ambient light reflected off the mirror on the tray ceiling, daring her to move forward.
He owned Ambrosia, a BDSM club.
Pieces fell into place as she looked around again with new eyes: leather vest and pants hanging from a hook beside the closet, mirrored sliding closet doors hiding untold devices, and deep storage drawers under the mattress. The entire scene left her speechless. Yet—she should have expected it all. The darkest fantasies in the farthest reaches of her mind couldn’t conjure such a rich, luxuriant setting tailor-made for any depravity conjured.
How long she stood there, she didn't know. Soft footfalls announced his advance. It wouldn’t do to have him witness her gawking like a star-struck kid. No wonder he unnerves me. With a few toys added, this would be the perfect stage for a theme room at his club, according to her erotic romances.
Refolding the blankets let her size them for the injured shepherd. In hurried motions, she arranged a comfortable bed in the corner.
"Hey, looks good. Thanks. Do you mind bringing in his water bowl?"
His tongue sliding along his bottom lip encouraged a flush of warmth in her belly, the heat radiating to her face. Though he held Darius in his arms, the combination of potent virility and standing in what she imagined to be a well-used bedroom stretched her nerves beyond capacity to think clearly.
"S-sure. B-be right back."
The soft tilting of his lips on one side defined her entire focus as she staggered back, turning and stumbling away. Grateful for the tall ceilings allowing more air to circulate, she plucked at her shirt to fan the heat from her chest. Claustrophobia wasn’t an issue in the great room without Marc’s presence.
Two ceramic bowls sat on either side of the kitchen’ alcove, one was blue with black paw prints, the other green with black paw prints. Each had a chew bone and ball beside it. Maybe those leathers were for horseback riding…
The chew toy and rubber ball slipped from her grasp twice before she’d secured it along with the blue and black dish. Filling the bowl only two-thirds full ensured she wouldn’t spill as she carefully made her way back to his bedroom, probably the last place she should go. Hell, he owns Ambrosia, for God's sake. What the hell do you think he rides?
"Here we go." Setting the bowl in front of a groggy Darius, a little water sloshed over the sides. She couldn't resist a slow caress of his soft coat after setting his bone and rubber ball beside the bed within easy reach. "I'm so sorry you got hurt, boy."
When she stood and pivoted, Marc loomed over her, his overwhelming presence knocking her off balance both mentally and physically. "I brought his rubber ball."
"Yes, I see." He took a small step forward. A few scant inches separated them. Again, his infuriating smile let her know he realized and exploited his arousing effect.
"Y-you don't give them tennis balls. I'm glad…because the felt is extremely abrasive on their teeth. It contains a glue…" How can the room lack oxygen?
"Yes. It does." A half step.
Only her quickening breaths separated them. His predator’s smile widened.
"I-I've seen canines worn down to nubs before the owners got a clue. They worry and wonder but don't bring the dogs in to figure out what's causing it."
"Yep, I believe it." His warm breath fanned across her cheek, minty from the candy he favored. They shared the same space, the same air, intimate in a way she’d never known.
"I'm…I'm glad you take good care of your ball—ah, your dogs."
"I always take care of what's mine." His gaze could command the very devil himself.
She gulped, looking around frantically for an escape. His close proximity blocked out everything, including her ability to think or decipher anything other than the carnal hunger disseminating from him in waves.
Maybe spontaneous orgasms aren’t a myth.

Carnal Obsession: His Heart's Prisoner

CARNAL OBSESSION is a fast-paced romance that weaves layers of drama, grit, raw emotions, eroticism, a bit of darkness and, of course, obsession. With her sensual prose, Garrett entices readers to enter into a new realm where sexuality and passion collides with mystery and intensity. Well done! , RT Book Reviews.


   “You? You own this animated horror show? Conner, what happened to you?” A decade ago, he and Billy had filled her head with fantasies only an innocent could dream, back when sex in a t-shirt carried the easy grace of a natural predator and filled her delusions of eternal love. Time had lent fuel to her imagination. Like a boiler that continued to build up too much pressure, her thoughts skated along the razor’s edge of a volcano. The age-old longing persisted despite current reality’s intervention and the memory of how Conner had led Billy into the military, to his death.
   “Hello, Kendra. I’m glad you and your band could make it tonight. I look forward to hearing you sing again.” That sweltry intonation could curl an iron bar, yet there dwelt a deep sadness, as if memories pulled him down a road too often traveled.
   An audible gulp. Her mouth opened and closed several times without issuing a sound.
   She couldn’t look at him, not when her face flamed with the memories of first infatuation. The disappointment invading her mind now stung the back of her eyelids. “When did you turn into a pervert?” It was too much to bear. She needed the quiet and peaceful white noise of the street, wind chimes on someone’s front porch, a car backfiring, a breeze sifting through the trees and blowing the road’s detritus in small dust devils.
   “Nice place you have here, Mr. Crofton.” Daeron, ever the peacemaker, stepped forward to shake Conner’s hand.
   “Yeah, all it needs is some spider architecture, pointed hats, and magic wands. Oh, and I think you’re missing a vat of boiling oil.” Mumbled words lost the bite of her intent.
   “Can’t say spiders do much for me, but we do have plenty of oil and violet wands. Most women think of them as magic.” Conner’s husky laugh scorched the knot in her throat like melted sand, changing its consistency until acid threatened to spew forth.
   “Looks damn interesting.” Daeron’s comment would earn him an all-out brawl later.
   Freaking traitor. Men always stick together.
   After a moment, Conner’s words sank in. No!
   “Violet? You’re gay?”
   It seemed bystanders thought her a comedian or imbecile, their laughter creating more blazing heat to encompass her face.
Marc, brother of her current tormentor, took pity as he stepped forward. “Hi, Mackendra. It’s been a long time.” Sympathy radiated from him in waves to envelop her in a maelstrom of cloying, sickly sweet flashbacks she couldn’t handle. Of the four brothers, he’d been the nice one.
   “Hi, Marc. Let me guess, you’re also part of this zoo?” Regardless of his intended sincerity, she couldn’t rest her gaze on either man. “This den of perverts?”
   “You got it, hon. You ready to work? I’ve missed hearing your zany and spirited songs.” Marc stepped forward to offer a hug yet stopped short of contact.
   No! She couldn’t abide the company of men whose lives had been twisted by pain and despair, the last men to see her brother alive. Conner’s presence ushered Billy’s last words to fill her mind before he ditched her for another military stint, his final tour.             
   “You’re being selfish, mongrel. I need to do this, protect my brothers. You’ll be safe here, yet they won’t be unless I go back. When I return, we’ll start a new chapter in life, together.”
   Well that sure as hell happened. Just not the way I’d planned.
   The physical ache in her heart wasn’t relieved with the pressure of fist against chest. She turned and ran, just as she’d always done when the agony of memories washed over her. She would never again allow anyone to witness her suffering.

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