Although Sam, the hero of Undercover Lover, is a Chicago police officer, his story is not a cop thriller or mystery. Rather it’s the story of a man whose youthful, impetuous actions impacted his family and are the reason he became an undercover police officer. It’s the story of his rebirth from a tortured, guilt ridden, lonely life to one where he accepts the love and forgiveness from his family, as well as accepting the love of the heroine, Liz. Her life has become entwined with his, has been put in danger because of his actions. Even though Sam makes every attempt to drive her away for her own protection, Liz has seen his gentle, loving side and finally challenges him to quit hiding from what he truly wants in life – a family, a home, and love.
Beware!! Very graphic language
“Unhhh…Ohhh, God…” The sounds tore from her throat in deep, raspy growls. Liz’s hips undulated in time to her heartbeat as shudders rolled through her body. She’d set the scene in her bedroom: glowing candles, fluffy pillows, the covers pushed to the bottom of the bed. She settled against the pillows to play with her toy and fantasize about her sexy neighbor. It was all his fault. His fault she had to resort to her vibrator.
Sweeping her lashes closed and swirling the tip of his imagined cock through the cream pooling in her cleft, the presence of Mr. Mysterious seemed to invade the room. The sight of his broad shoulders and chest dominated her mind’s eye. Arching her neck, she moaned, “God, yes…” He teasingly nudged himself into her sheath, pulsated, pulled out, and then did it again. She gasped, panted, drove herself mad pretending this ecstasy came from him, from the imagined wicked gleam in his eyes knowing he tormented her unmercifully.
Part of her knew the truth—that her dangerous, pretend lover wasn’t really here, his cock only plastic and batteries. But it felt so real, the rotating ridges and length stimulating all her innermost nerve endings. Concentrating on the sensations, she tortured her lower lip and thrust her new lover in as deeply as possible. The rotating tip polished over the ultra-sensitive knot of nerves inside and always brought her to orgasm. Always. Ah, yes.
In her illusion—her delusion—long, muscular, hairy legs rasped against her tender inner thighs. She heard his groan as he tracked the tips of his fingers along her skin from her knees to her drenched pubic hair.
“Baby,” he’d whisper huskily. “I’m gonna fuck you blind. I’m gonna eat my way down your body ‘til your luscious clit pops into my mouth like a ripe cherry.
Groaning loudly at the fantasy fucking, at first she tried to catalogue her feelings, to catalogue everything about him. The rakish flash of the gold hoop in his ear turned her on. So did his demonically-trimmed goatee, and she wasn’t usually fond of facial hair.
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