Tuesday, 10 May 2016

NEW Survival cover and excerpt...

First things first, this amazing cover for Survival! It's turning into more of a thriller than romance so I decided to hire somebody to capture what was in my head. And she did!

And an excerpt from early on in the story (first draft, unedited, subject to change etc etc):

“Here we are,” he rasped and let her go. She slid off him and he felt cold air rush up his back where she had been moments ago.
“Oh wow, this is cool,” she said breathlessly and stepped ahead of him to survey the bridge.
It wasn’t anything that spectacular, but the way the tracks came out of the mountain at a curve and straightened up for the bridge was quite pretty. The river flowed quickly about fifty feet below the bridge, and the rocky shore was flat enough for them to lay under, smoke cigarettes and drink beers.
And maybe a quick under skirt exploration. If she kept her promise.
“Yeah, it’s okay,” Ethan shrugged and kicked some gravel. “I’ll show you underneath where people usually hang out.”
“Wait, what time does the train come?” she asked, eyeballing the bridge.
“I’m not sure, I think around four.”
“So in just a few minutes?”
He glanced at his watch. “I guess so.”
“Let’s go across,” she said with a feral madness in her eyes. He was both repulsed and attracted by that madness there.
“It’s too dangerous.”
“I like that,” she replied and licked her lips. She stepped towards him and slid her hand down the front of his body, skated it across his chest, his stomach and to the waistband of his jeans. “I really like that.” She slid her hand further down and grazed his aching cock with the edge of her fingers.
It was fire. Pure liquid fire that flamed from deep inside, some primal root at the base of his existence. His being.
He gulped, drew in a shaky breath and said, “Okay. Let’s do it.”
They waited until they could actually hear the train coming. Ethan put his ear to the track like he’d seen on a western somewhere sometime and felt the mechanical throb of the train along the metal road.
“It’s definitely coming,” he said and let her drag him across towards what he felt like certain death.
But it would be a death that had been proceeded by Celeste touching his dick.
And that was sweet enough he decided.
She stopped halfway across and flattened herself against the railing. “Do this,” she said with her back to the water. “I think we have enough room here.”
He obeyed her wordlessly and pressed his body against the wooden post and looked up to see the train coming around the curve out of the mountains.
“Here it comes,” he said, his voice full of doubt. “We have time to make it back.”
“No we don’t,” she replied and turned to look him in the eyes. Hers carried a glint so sharp he felt it pierce his very soul. She was on fire in a different way, she was alive for the first time and he knew she was going to never let him go.
Instead she didn’t break her gaze, but held him steady there and reached for his hand.
As the horn began to blast and the train reached the opposite end of the bridge, Celeste took Ethan’s hand and pulled it between her legs.
He struggled to remain as flat as possible as the train roared past and his fingers found her soaking wet pussy.
He had inches between himself and the tonnes of speeding, deadly metal train cars but he didn’t notice a thing beyond the way her eyes were aflame and the way her cunt felt at the end of his fingers.
He hit something, a swollen, hot thing and realized he’d found her clit. He almost froze at the realization, uncertain of what this meant.
Her breathing increased and her face grew flushed but her eyes didn’t break free. She held him there and watched him watching her, a world reflected back at him as he slipped his fingers across and back again and brought her to her peak.
“Oh god,” she exhaled and closed her eyes as the last few cars of the train sped past and the bridge stopped shaking. “Oh fuck, Ethan, that was intense.”
She didn’t open her eyes as he pulled his fingers back and felt a strange sense of shame wash over him. He didn’t feel like she’d connected with him, he felt as though she was using him as a prop, a means to an end.
It made him feel odd. Disconnected somehow.

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