Synopsis
King:
Homeless. Hungry. Desperate.
Doe has no memories of who she is or where she comes from.
A notorious career criminal just released from prison, King is someone you don’t want to cross unless you’re prepared to pay him back in blood, sweat, pu$$y or a combination of all three.
King’s future hangs in the balance. Doe’s is written in her past. When they come crashing together, they will have to learn that sometimes in order to hold on, you have to first let go.
Tyrant:
I. Remember. Everything.
Only now I wish I didn't.
When the fog is sucked away from my mind like smoke through a vacuum, the truth that has been beyond my reach for months finally reveals itself.
But the relief I thought I would feel never comes, and I'm more afraid now than I was the morning I woke up handcuffed in King's bed.
Because with the truth comes dark secrets I was never meant to know.
I will put the lives of those I love most at risk if I let on that my memory has returned, or if I seek help from the heavily tattooed felon who owns me body and soul.
I don't know if I'm strong enough to resist the magnetic pull toward King that grows stronger every day.
He's already saved me in more ways than one. Now it's my turn to do whatever it takes to save him.
Even if that means marrying someone else...
King
and Pup are back in this Limited Edition Box Set from
T.M. Frazier!
NOW
AVAILABLE
King
Excerpt
King
Tattooing
Doe was the single most erotic moment of my life. Marking her
perfect, pale skin with a tattoo I'd designed for her made me so
fucking hard I had to adjust myself every thirty seconds in order to
concentrate on my work.
When
I was done, I handed her the hand mirror, and she walked over to the
full-sized mirror that hung on the back of the door, like she'd seen
dozens of my other clients do before. When she held up the hand
mirror, she gasped.
"What?"
I asked in a panic, hoping she didn't already see what I'd hidden in
the tattoo. I was an asshole for putting it there. I was an asshole
for tattooing her in the first place.
I
was just an asshole.
But
I couldn't help myself. My name needed to be on her. It wasn’t
enough just to call her mine. I needed to mark her as well. So hidden
in the vine work under the quote I found that I thought was perfect
for her, was my name.
KING
was woven into the design. In order to see it you had to tilt your
head or otherwise you wouldn't notice it. But it was there.
I
would tell her eventually of course, but I wanted it to be my secret
for a while. She'd stopped being my possession a while ago, a lot
longer before I cared to admit, but I still felt the need to mark her
as mine.
I
still liked the idea of owning her.
Only
now, she owned me, too.
She
didn't notice the name. Tears filled her eyes. She stood there
staring at the hand mirror in just her panties. Little cheeky ones
where her ass hung out of the bottoms. Her tits were only inches from
my face. Her tears of happiness made my dick twitch. Although her sad
tears evoked the same response.
My
dick wasn't partial to which kind of tears he liked.
I
took the mirror from her hand and lifted her up onto the counter.
"You like it?" I asked, pushing her panties down her legs.
"I
love it," she panted, wrapping her legs around me, drawing me
close. Her wetness soaking my boxers. I pushed them down with one
hand. I'd been hard for three hours, the entire time I’d been
working on her, and couldn't wait any longer. I pushed inside her
tight, wet heat.
We
both moaned at the contact.
"You
love it?" I asked, needing to hear her say it again.
"Yes,
I love it!" she said as I thrust up into her, hard. "I love
it. So much. I love you."
I
froze when I heard the words, and when I did, her eyes flung open.
"I
didn't mean—"
"Shut
the fuck up."
"Oh
my god, I have that word vomit thing. I’m sorry. Shit, I just
meant that—"
"Shut
the fuck up!" I demanded, thrusting hard to get her attention.
She closed her eyes, and her head fell back. "That's fucking
better. Now, keep that pretty mouth of yours shut while I fuck you."
"Okay,"
she whispered, breathless.
"Shut
up," I said again, and she closed her mouth. "Shut up so I
can fuck you…and show you how much I love you."
She
nodded and although her eyes stayed shut, a tear rolled down her
cheek. I sucked it off her chin before it could fall to the floor.
Then,
I fucked her.
Hard.
I
showed her how much I loved her until I couldn't tell where I started
and she began. Until all that was in that room was me and her and the
thing between us that kept pulling us together like magnets. Until we
were lost in sensations and orgasms.
And
in each other.
I
fucked her until we were one person, and in a way we were, because
I'd lost myself along the way and I found myself again in the most
unlikely place.
I'd
found myself again in the haunted eyes of a girl who was just as lost
as I was.
Or
maybe, we didn't find each other at all.
Maybe,
we just decided to be lost together.
Tyrant
Excerpt
He
cupped my ass and lifted me up, wrapping my legs around his waist.
“There was one point I’d made the decision to tell you the truth.
I owed you that much. But then all the shit went down with Isaac and
Preppy, so when I made the deal with your father for Max, I thought I
was doing you a favor by giving you your life back and getting you
out of all the shit that came with being in mine.”
I
squeezed my thighs around his waist, rubbing myself against his
hardness. I moaned. “But you weren’t giving me my life back.” I
corrected. I placed my palms on his cheeks and held his face in my
hands, searching for any sign in his eyes that what I felt for him
might have been wrong, but instead what I found was a resounding need
to fix what was broken between us. Tears formed in my eyes. “You
were taking it away.” King’s lips parted. He ran his thumb across
my lower lip, turning his head he kissed his way up my arm.
“Goosebumps,”
King observed, running his fingertips across my already stimulated
skin. I bit my lip and stifled a moan.
“It’s
just the heat," I lied.
"You've
got that fucking right," King growled, bending my wrist behind
my back, his lips came crashing down over mine. We were a tangling of
lips, clanking of teeth, sloshing through the water to better line
ourselves up with each other. It wasn't pretty.
It
was need.
"I’m
still fucking mad at you for letting me go,” I said into his mouth,
while our tongues did things other parts of me throbbed to do.
King
stilled and held my face away from his, our chests heaving in unison,
my erect nipples rubbing against his hot hard skin as we panted
together. Our breaths mingled in the air. He ran his hand down the
side of my face and cupped my cheek in his palm. "I didn't give
you away, Pup. I released you."
I
stilled. "You released me?" I couldn't hide the hurt in my
voice. For some reason, releasing me sounded worse than letting me
go.
King
ran his tongue across the tip of my earlobe, holding me tightly
against his warmth. Chills ran down my spine and into my very core
and they had nothing to do with the temperature of the rain.
"I tried
to release you, Pup. For Max. But there was a major problem with that
plan, and no matter what happened, it would never have worked,"
King confessed.
"Why
is that?" I asked, needing to know, but at the same time acutely
aware of the pulsing between my legs. Relief and release was only a
scrap or two of fabric away. Throbbing for me.
"The
problem was…you never released me," King growled, crashing his
lips to mine. He moaned into my mouth when I rubbed myself up against
his straining erection. He pushed the fabric of my shorts aside and
the second he parted my folds with his index finger, I shuddered. He
plunged a long index finger inside of me, and for a second my eyes
rolled back in my head until he withdrew it. I cried out in
frustration, wiggling myself against him, needing him to make me feel
anything other than empty.
About the Author
T.M.
(Tracey Marie) Frazier resides in sunny Southwest Florida with her
husband and three feisty fur kids.
She
attended Florida Gulf Coast University where she specialized in
public speaking. After years working in real estate and new home
construction, she decided it was finally time to stop pushing her
dreams to the back burner and pursue writing seriously.
In
the third grade she wrote her very first story about a lost hamster.
It earned rave reviews from both her teacher and her parents.
It
only took her twenty years to start the next one.
It
will not be about hamsters.
