Rodeo Dust

Lena wiped sweat from her forehead with the back of her wrist, the arena lights buzzing overhead like angry hornets. The roar of the crowd still echoed in her ears even though the last bull had bucked its rider twenty minutes ago. She’d been on the circuit for three weeks now—temporary gig fixing up Boone McCade’s wrecked shoulder after a bad spill in Tulsa. She hadn’t expected to still be here. Boone sat on the tailgate of his truck outside the medical tent, shirt off, dust streaked across his chest and abs. Bruises bloomed purple and yellow over his ribs. He was thirty-four, built like a man who got thrown ten times a week and got back up every single time. Dark hair matted under his cowboy hat, jaw set tight. “You gonna poke at it all night or actually fix something?” he drawled, voice rough from the night’s yelling. Lena snapped on fresh gloves. “Keep running your mouth and I’ll make it hurt on purpose.” He grinned. “Promise?” She ignored the flutter low in her belly a

Beacon in the Storm

Sara gripped the railing of the supply boat as it slammed against the dock, salt spray stinging her face. The lighthouse rose above the rocks like a crooked finger against the gray sky, appearing tall, white, streaked with rust and years of beating weather. She’d volunteered for this six-month research stint on seabird populations, thinking isolation would be peaceful. The captain had laughed when she said that. “Elias don’t talk much. Good luck.” The man waiting on the dock didn’t look like he needed company. Elias Crowe stood with his hands in the pockets of a heavy oilskin coat, salt-and-pepper beard, deep lines around sharp blue eyes. Mid-forties, built solid from hauling supplies and fighting the sea. He didn’t smile. “Dr. Sara Kline?” His voice carried over the wind, low and rough like gravel under boots. “That’s me.” She shouldered her duffel. “Thanks for letting me stay up here.” He took the bag from her without asking, muscles flexing under the coat. “Only one bunk tha

History’s Heat - Professor & Student Erotica

The restricted archives under the main library smelled like dust, old leather, and secrets that hadn’t seen daylight in decades. Lucas wiped sweat from his brow even though the room was cool. It was past 11 p.m., and the only light came from the green banker’s lamp on the long oak table and the faint emergency strips along the floor. Professor Marcus had kept him here for three hours cataloging a new donation of Civil War letters—rare, fragile, and full of raw personal truths. Marcus stood across the table, early forties, broad-shouldered in a dark button-down with the sleeves rolled up. A thin scar ran along his jaw and disappeared under his collar—something from “another life,” he’d said once and never explained. Authoritative, precise, the kind of professor who made grad students sweat for every approval. Lucas had been his research assistant for six months. The tension had been building like a storm you could feel coming. “Careful with that one,” Marcus said, voice low as Lu

All Chapters of Painful Pleasures(Short Steamy Collections): Chapter 161 - Chapter 163

Rodeo Dust

Beacon in the Storm

History’s Heat - Professor & Student Erotica