Today I'm giving you a taste of HOUSE RULES, the Jack Gordon, Stewart
Realty Novella that will be available 100% FREE on my publisher's site (www.sizzlinbooks.com)
on JUNE 16! It will also be just .99 everywhere else. This is the Jack
Gordon backstory that my eager muse shoved into my head one day while I
was minding my own business and trying to start the final novel of the
series, Good Faith (which is now done in first draft and releases Nov.
13 along with a fun "Stewart Realty Con" in Ann Arbor June 15-16 that
includes a book signing at Barnes & Noble plus some seriously
awesome parties with trivia and food and beer and fun!).
Jack is sort of the glue that holds all these folks together through the course of (ultimately) 8.5 books plus 3 in the Black Jack Gentlemen soccer novels spin off series that releases in August. He's all kinds of hot and bother-able by the time you "meet" him in Floor Time/Sweat Equity/Closing Costs, the original trilogy of this series. But he is frustrating on many levels and so I wanted to tell all these stories that other folks have relayed about him from their perspective from HIS...plus do a little fill-on on what made him the man he is by 35 (when he meets his destiny in Sara Thornton. A.k.A. the woman my fans love to hate or hate to love depending on how you look at it).
For those of you who "know" this is a peek at the "Jack and Jenna" intro.
And now, the cover:
and the blurb:
It takes a wealth of collected experiences, emotions, successes and failures to craft the personality of a true Alpha Male
Jack Gordon, real estate broker, licensed builder, Juris Doctorate, has had his fair share of strife. His ability to cope, to fall down and pick himself back up has lead him to a place where he believes he has it all. Friends, money, cars, more women than he can count, and a club in Detroit where he can exorcise his inner demons, fill his days and his nights.
When he walks up to a penthouse door on a hot Ann Arbor summer afternoon, frustrated, exasperated and ready to call it quits after hours of condo shopping with a wealthy couple, the last thing on his mind is meeting his destiny.
House Rules: The Jack Gordon Story. A prequel novella of the Stewart Realty Series.
AND a pretty much NSFW excerpt.....ready....it's a full chapter so put your feet up and, um, shut the door?
-->
Jack is sort of the glue that holds all these folks together through the course of (ultimately) 8.5 books plus 3 in the Black Jack Gentlemen soccer novels spin off series that releases in August. He's all kinds of hot and bother-able by the time you "meet" him in Floor Time/Sweat Equity/Closing Costs, the original trilogy of this series. But he is frustrating on many levels and so I wanted to tell all these stories that other folks have relayed about him from their perspective from HIS...plus do a little fill-on on what made him the man he is by 35 (when he meets his destiny in Sara Thornton. A.k.A. the woman my fans love to hate or hate to love depending on how you look at it).
For those of you who "know" this is a peek at the "Jack and Jenna" intro.
And now, the cover:
and the blurb:
It takes a wealth of collected experiences, emotions, successes and failures to craft the personality of a true Alpha Male
Jack Gordon, real estate broker, licensed builder, Juris Doctorate, has had his fair share of strife. His ability to cope, to fall down and pick himself back up has lead him to a place where he believes he has it all. Friends, money, cars, more women than he can count, and a club in Detroit where he can exorcise his inner demons, fill his days and his nights.
When he walks up to a penthouse door on a hot Ann Arbor summer afternoon, frustrated, exasperated and ready to call it quits after hours of condo shopping with a wealthy couple, the last thing on his mind is meeting his destiny.
House Rules: The Jack Gordon Story. A prequel novella of the Stewart Realty Series.
AND a pretty much NSFW excerpt.....ready....it's a full chapter so put your feet up and, um, shut the door?
-->
Chapter 9
“Law
school sucks,” the girl claimed as she flopped onto the couch nearby. Jack
glanced up from his perusal of that very fact via mounds of torts and other
bullshit.
His
shoulders ached as he stretched his arms up, not really paying that much
attention to her. His tired brain coming to terms with the fact that he may
well have met his limit: being a full-time law school student at a premiere
school, and trying to fulfill his every sexual fantasy at a club he’d been
invited to join not that far from the center of downtown Chicago.
The
house he’d rented was a rattletrap piece of shit. The one roommate he’d found
had bailed and he was fast realizing something important about himself—he did
not like living alone.
He
was lonely. And a little intimidated by how deep into the BDSM scene he seemed
to be getting. Plus flat out exhausted by all the flipping bookwork he had to
do just to get through his classes.
Law
school had occurred to him almost as a whim during his junior year at Michigan
State. His roommate and new buddy, Rob, had been headed to medical school. As
was Suzanne, whom he had managed to avoid more than he liked for the last years
of undergrad.
He
had no real idea what he wanted to do, but was not about to join the “be a
doctor” bandwagon, no way. Way too much blood and guts involved there. He could
get his M.B.A., as he would be emerging with a Bachelor’s of Science in
Business, but that sounded like more boring theory and stats.
He’d
been messing around with a girl then who’d been preparing for the LSAT. One
morning while she slept off an epic fuck session, he picked up her study guide
and settled down with it. By the time she woke up and booted him out of her
place, he was convinced that should be his next step. The act of “practicing
law” was not the draw but rather the challenge of taking that damn test. His
interest was piqued so he got his own study books and, in typical fashion,
devoted hours to the goal.
Now,
here he was at a very expensive school of The Law, while Rob had tossed his
admissions letters and headed to France to be a chef. Suzanne was at med school
down South and the last he heard had a serious boyfriend.
It
wasn’t that he wanted a woman around or anything. No, he just was not the kind
of guy who found isolation enjoyable. He liked waking up and having someone to
talk to over coffee, or to share a beer with while he studied.
The
girl he’d been ignoring made a funny, exasperated sound somewhere between a
snort and a sigh, breaking his reverie. He glanced at her again and did a
double-take.
She
was curled up on the crappy student lounge couch in a corner of the main law
building basement—a place he’d found and scoped out as his own for getting some
work done between classes a few weeks ago.
“Yeah,”
he said, raking his gaze over her near-perfect form. She had big tits, which were
a bonus, but since he was an ass and legs man he waited her out. His newfound
inner radar started pinging the second her dark blue eyes met his. “I’m Jack.”
“Hi,
Jack. Jenna.” She proceeded to ignore him for a solid hour, and he let her. Because
he had already figured something out about Jenna. He knew she’d stick around and
chat some more. He smiled when he sensed her nearby, hovering over him. “Um,
can you make heads or tails of this?” She pointed to an open passage in her
book.
“Maybe.
I think I need coffee first. Join me?” He got to his feet and gathered all of his
papers. She watched, her eyes widening, then met his smile with one of her own.
“Yeah,
sure, Jack,” she said, lingering over his name in a way that made him gulp as
she stuffed her book in her backpack and shouldered it. The look on her face
confused him some, but her body was sending clear signals that he intercepted
and translated.
They
walked, chatting about nothing in particular and Jack got his first full look
at her. She was about five foot four in flat shoes, with a fit-looking, curvy
body, packed into nondescript dark denim jeans and red sweater that dipped into
her impressive cleavage nicely. Her dark brown hair tumbled around her shoulders
and her laugh was low, sexy. It rumbled around in his libido in a way that he
recognized.
He’d
spent last summer learning something about himself that shocked him at first. Then
had settled into his new reality as a sexual Dom with an eagerness that made
that first girl who’d invited him to club a very happy camper.
The
owner of the small place in downtown Detroit was an older guy, good-looking
still, and content to show him the ropes… and the handcuffs… the floggers… the
whips and ball gags. He’d made a project
of Jack actually, grooming him, he claimed, for greatness.
He
grinned and took a step closer to the alluring, sexy Jenna as they stood in
line for coffee. He could smell it on her like lingering smoke—her plain-as-day
willingness to submit to him. She looked up and met his gaze.
The
moment that should have been awkward made his cock slam into the back of his
zipper. He smiled at the sensation. A corner of her full lips tilted up in a
way he thought he understood. He figured that was the final sign. He was no
expert yet but well on his way. While sensing the sexual energy of every female
in a room was sometimes tiring, now that he could channel it, figure out which
of them would actually provide him the outlet he required, it seemed that it
all led him to this precise moment. And to Jenna.
She
leaned closer to him in a way entirely inappropriate for having just met. Yet
it was perfect. “I don’t want coffee, really. I’ve been watching you all
semester, all year. Let’s go to your place.”
He
swallowed hard. Something wasn’t right, was off, or just shifted to the left,
just far enough for him to sense it and hesitate. He looked down into her deep
blue eyes. Saw the way her breathing had ramped up. The pulse in her throat
caught his gaze, beating, beating. And those lips… dear god they were tempting.
He
smiled. “I don’t know, Jenna. Maybe I’m not ready.” He raised an eyebrow. This
was his scene. He was not about to let her call the shots.
“Oh
I think you are.” She turned just enough to shield her hand, the one she put
right on the uncomfortable bulge in his jeans.
He
didn’t move or shift away. He did, however, narrow his eyes at her on purpose,
making sure she got the gist of his displeasure. “I’m not sure I said you could
touch me yet. Jenna.” He kept his voice low and slow, but his brain was starting
to hum with a familiar sense of rightness. She lowered her gaze, tucked the
offending hand back into her jacket pocket, and started to step back.
He
gripped her arm, loving the way the heat transferred from her to him, and shot
down his spine. “Don’t move.” He glanced around then putting his mouth near her
ear, taking in a fresh breath of horny female. “I can sense that you know what
I like… Jenna…” Her name felt exotic, unique, on his lips. “But just because
you want it does not mean I’m giving it to you. Are we clear?”
Keeping
her eyes downcast, she nodded. Then looked up fast, surprising him some. Later,
he would realize that was the moment he should have known, should have figured
Jenna’s manipulative tendencies out. If he had been more mature, more at ease
with his powers of perception, or at least in tune with his gut feeling to run
away from her as fast as he could, he might have avoided a shit ton of head and
heart ache.
Instead
he smiled at her boldness, liking it and wanting to tame it—thinking he could,
which was mistake number one.
“You
don’t have to… sir,” she whispered, not tearing her gaze from his. Something
about her rubbed him both ways—wrong and right. He could not figure it out. Her
neediness—that familiar aura he’d come to know and understand those nights at
the club that first summer—was tinged with something else, something a little
ominous. He ignored it. And let his overwhelming need to control her shove away
the worry.
“I
know that. Let’s sit. Have coffee.” He grinned at her exasperated look. Yeah,
control this scene, Gordon. Otherwise she would and something told him that
would be very bad idea.
“After
you.” He grabbed their cardboard cups and nodded toward an empty table in a sea
of students drinking, reading, talking—doing all the normal things. While he
zeroed in on Jenna and the many possibilities she was tossing his way without
even realizing it.
“So
Jenna,” he said stretching his legs out under the table and letting his calf
make contact with hers. He sensed her flinch ever so slightly at the touch. “Where
are you from?”
She
sipped her coffee, kept her gaze on his. “Southern Illinois, little town you’ve
never heard of.”
“Okay.”
Jack stayed apart, trying to remain objective, but something about her fairly screamed
“take me now” so loud he was surprised everyone around them couldn’t hear it.
He
swallowed hard, willed himself down from the ledge, and made small-talk with
her. It was not comfortable, and the more they sat and the more he tried to
make it “just a chat”, the hornier he got. He knew damn good and well she was
throwing it, her vibe, just to see if he’d catch it. He did not like being
tested. But at the same time wanted to prove he could pass with flying fucking
colors.
Finally
he stood, slowly, never more unsure and sure of something at the same time in
his life. She rose at the same pace, her body drawing his eyes and making him
have to bite his tongue not to say something that would tip the scale of power
in her favor. Because that is exactly what this was, as they stood and stared at
each other across the small, coffee shop table—a power play.
Her
hair tumbled around her face. High cheekbones were flushed red, dark blue eyes
flashed, the hands she put on her hips tempted. It was as if she were dressed
the way he preferred, in a short, easy-access dress and towering high heels,
hair done up, all ready for him. When really she just stood there in jeans, a
sweater, and little makeup. The minute flowed into two as the world continued
to orbit around them.
He
frowned, pissed at himself for being so weird. Attaching emotion to something
that should contain none, trying to focus on his ability to show her a good
time, nothing more or less. It was not until many years later that he
understood that keeping himself emotionally aloof was also a mistake.
She
leaned back then, cocked one hip as if pulling away. He nearly fell forward but
caught himself on the table. This was too much. He should bolt, fast, before he
did something really dumb.
“C’mon,”
he blurted out, pushing away from her, his voice gruff. “We need to clear the
air.”
She
let him put a possessive hand in the small of her back and guide her out
firmly, without speaking, as if they were already a couple. His house was a ten-minute
car ride from campus but he toyed with walking there, to get his head straight.
Then
he found himself opening the passenger’s side door and handing her in. She
moved in a fluid way like a dancer. Jack
couldn’t help but be mesmerized by her even as she did something as innocuous
as get into his truck. The ride was quiet but in an oddly comfortable way, as
if they were used to each other’s silences and willing to let them happen.
When
he parked in the drive, a sudden feeling of apprehension gripped his gut and
gave it a twist. She sat, waiting for him to make the first move like a good
submissive. He shuddered, the word hitting the front of his brain hard. She was
that, to be sure, but his? That was another question and one he was not sure he
wanted the answer to, not yet.
The
months he had spent calming his excess energy by learning how to dominate, how
to please, how to control his urges and be in complete control of his partners’
pleasure had been a pure buzz. He loved it. There was no denying that, or that
he was a natural at it.
More
women had been pleasured by him and his abilities than he could even count anymore.
He’d graduated, with honors, and while the old club owner guy would not yet
call him a Master, he knew if he hadn’t left for law school when he did, it
would have been a matter weeks before that happened. But now he felt queasy and
decidedly un-masterful.
A
hand touched his leg. He stared at it, the short nails painted a funky brown
like dried blood. Her fingers long, tapered, elegant. The gut-deep reaction to
her was freaking him the fuck out. He gulped and got out, deciding to make this
short and sweet and bid her farewell as quickly as he possibly could. Without
looking at her he yanked open the door, then didn’t wait before he stomped up
the steps and unlocked the door, tossing his stuff on the entryway floor. He
escaped to the small kitchen to gulp some water.
He
heard her enter, then walk up behind him after a few minutes. She waited
quietly, until he turned. Jenna stood completely naked in his kitchen, her
firm, large breasts tipped with deep pink, nipples.
Her
sex was nearly bare but for a small triangle of dark brown fuzz. He could see
it all, more than he wanted to see, including an intriguing piece of body art
that he reached out to touch. The black vine-looking thing came around her
side, bloomed like a leafless tree across her stomach, reaching down into her
tiny patch of pubic hair. His finger shook as he touched it, but the heat of
her skin calmed him. The feel of female flesh under his hand cast a pall over
his zinging nerves. He pulled her close and everything slowed, including his racing
pulse.
She
tasted like coffee and like something exotic, as he parted her lips and she
went up on her tiptoes to put her arms around his neck and mold her body
against his. He stopped. And she stepped back, dropping her gaze. “I’m sorry. I
should not have touched you… yet.”
Wiping
his lips as the nervousness tickled his brain again, he took her hand, led her
back to his room. He hadn’t had any women in his house in a while, much less in
his room, even after a year of school. Which was odd considering his previous
preference for intimate house parties.
His
time at the club had changed his taste for play and he’d kept it separate from
where he lived on purpose. Problem was, he wanted this one close, in his
personal space. The strength of the wanting terrified and exhilarated him all
at once.
He
opened a small chest, pulled out a length of soft cotton rope and nothing else.
“Lie down,” he said, his voice so low he could barely hear it himself. “Hands over your head.” He tied her wrists,
allowed himself a few moments to stroke her amazing body, watching as she
reacted, loving it so much he felt like he could keep her here forever. She
bent one leg as her breathing quickened.
He
kissed her then, unable to stop himself, dove into her mouth as his fingertips found
her exposed clit, teased it, then slid his experienced fingers inside the tight
glove of her.
She
sighed, writhed under his touch and his lips. Then he got off the bed and left
her there without a word. He needed space. He should not have brought her here.
He wasn’t ready for something that felt so… incredibly… strange. What should be
right simply was not. He couldn’t figure it out. After whimpering a little, Jenna
stayed quiet.
Jack
sat at the small kitchen table and contemplated the odd sensations fluttering
around his brain like trapped insects. Yeah, his cock was hard enough to cut a
few diamonds but that he could handle. It was his heart, which kept pounding
and his head, which buzzed so loudly he could barely hear himself think. What
was this?
He
ran a hand down his face, around the back of his neck. The longer he sat, the
worse it got, so he stood, stomped back into the bedroom. He stripped out of
his clothes under her gaze. She bit her plump, delicious, lower lip. An odd
sensation of ownership enveloped him. That was his lip. He would bite it, and
she would do exactly what he told her.
As
if in a daze, moving slow and with purpose but not even understanding what or
why—just that he had to do it, he rolled her over. Yanking her hips up, he
smacked her ass, hard, open-handed, once, twice, again, watching as her flesh
reddened and hearing her sighs and squeals of pleasure. The white ropes at her
wrists caught his eye for some reason. She was pulling at them so hard they
burned her skin and a drop of blood had appeared, marring the whiteness.
He
stared at it, caressing her hip and ass that he’d just smacked yet again. To
her credit, she stayed quiet, emitting only little sighs and moans as he ran
both his hands up her back and into her hair. He gripped tight and pulled with
one, then used his other to trace that wild tree-thing that covered her lower
back and snaked around to her front.
“I
don’t know what it is about you… but…” He rolled a condom over his cock, still
feeling trancelike, outside himself, unable to stop or breathe or think. His
control was slipping. He knew it. When he slid into her, inch by slow inch, she
gripped him and her sighs turned to a low groan of satisfaction. He closed his
eyes and let it happen. The moment was sublime and meant more to him than it
likely should.
He
fucked her slow, watching as if from a distance. He gripped her hip and reached
around to tease her clit until she cried out and pulsed, her whole body pulling
him toward something he honestly believed he should run away from.
“Oh
shit,” he moaned and grabbed her hair again, yanking her head back as her body kept such a tight hold on his cock it almost
hurt. Everything froze just as the orgasm burst across his nerve endings,
making him yell and lose himself utterly for the first time since Mindy,
likely, or Suzanne.
He
sighed and draped his body around hers. Pulled her down, and cradled her close
as he reached around to unbind her wrists. She still hadn’t spoken but was
shaking, trembling so hard her teeth chattered.
“Shh…”
he whispered, pulling the quilt up over her while he hit the bathroom. “Shh…Jenna,”
he caressed her name when he returned, loving the feel of it in his mouth while
his brain was sending up warnings to let her go, don’t allow to her stay. But
she was so just right, here in his arms. Burying his nose in her hair he
sighed, and slept.
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your own start on this best selling series that has more folks telling
me daily "I stayed up all night thanks to you and Jack Gordon..."
