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About the author:
Ines lives outside Washington, DC with her two little sidekicks who are growing up way too fast.
What inspired you to write your book?
Writing is the way I feed my insatiable curiosity and come to understand other individuals and their life choices. Last year, I met a fascinating woman who tried to explain the structure of her polyamorous love relationships. I couldn’t understand her until Ellie, the heroine of “Test Drive,” starting speaking in my head about how she loved Hawk, but also liked having sex with his friends who she also cared about. I wrote Ellie’s story in a week while sitting by the pool.
Here is a short sample from the book:
It was just a kiss -two kisses.
Two proper kisses all at once. He’d probably use tongue. No, he’d definitely use his tongue. And probably not just a chaste flick across my lips, or a tentative swipe at my tongue. He’d go all in. No waiting for months. No minding some long ago courting calendar.
Two kisses from a guy I wasn’t likely to see ever again after tonight.
I was out in the dark. No one would see. No one would know. He could be my big, dark secret that I thought about from time to time when the lights were all out, and I was in my three-story home, with my two kids, and my one husband. I could think back and remember the time I kissed that guy… I didn’t even know his name.
I was about to ask him when he leaned in a fraction. He hovered above me, not touching me, not not-touching me either. His fingers whispered over the hairs on my wrists. His lips hovered over mine until only a layer of breath existed between us.
“Fuck, sweet meat. You want it bad, don’t you? You need it.”
He was right. I did. I didn’t know how bad I needed it until this very moment. This feeling of excitement. This feeling of my pulse racing. This feeling of freedom that was available in the middle of the night.
All my life things came to me easily. I got good grades. I got into the college of my choice. My career studies came easily. The perfect guy for me showed up one day and asked me out.
Everything was going according to some plan written out in a manual for good girls that I had never cracked open. I had never said this was the life I wanted. I’d never been given the opportunity to choose.
He hovered over me. Waiting. Watching.
I leaned into him. I felt the denim of his pants brush against my exposed knees and felt completely naked. I let out a whimper. And, as though that were his cue, his tongue slipped out of his mouth. That same tongue I’d watched trace around his lips as he’d looked at me like he wanted me, like he wanted to do the same to me. And then he was doing the same to me. His tongue traced the outline of my upper lips. It climbed the hill that was the right side of my mouth, rested in the divot at the top, and made a slow descent down.
His tongue was warm, wet. He only gave me the tip, and he only gave it lightly. I felt disappointed that he went no further than my boyfriend.
But then I felt him smile against my lips as though that had been another test. I must’ve gotten that challenge right too because I felt his breath enter me as he traced the pattern of my desire across the underside of my lip. He sucked that spot behind the divot at the crest of my upper lip.
I opened wider, signaling he could take more.
He reached the corner of one side of my mouth, then changed the direction of his tongue and slowly swept the bottom of my lip. I was trembling by the time he got to the center.
He took small licks, like he was licking up the drippings of an ice cream cone. God, was I drooling?
He was almost at the other end when a devastating thought hit me. He’s about to finish. When he reached the other corner of my mouth he’d be finished and it would be over. I wanted to launch a formal protest. This wasn’t a kiss, not a real, proper kiss.
No sooner than I thought it did he pull away. I groaned in protest, lurching after him. But he didn’t go far. I lost my balance and crashed into his chest.
He put his thumb under my chin and lifted my face to his. There was a spark of triumph on his handsome face. “Was that a yes?”
I frowned. “A yes to what?”
“You mean? You mean that wasn’t the first kiss?”
He laughed. “Baby if that’s what you think a proper kiss is then you need to dump your boyfriend.”
He pushed my hips back into the car with a thud. Not rough, but not gentle either. He boxed me in this time, both hands caging me in. Without warning his mouth came down on mine. There was no preamble. His tongue swept into my mouth and set about claiming every corner of my being.
His body pressed into mine. His hands pushed me into the driver’s side window of my Bug. His hips pushed me against the door. And, oh god, I felt his erection at my belly. I’d never understood that when I read it in romance novels. Wouldn’t the heroine feel the hero’s erection pressed against her thigh when they kissed? Nope, not when the hero was well endowed and erect.
My legs pressed together as more arousal leaked out of me. He lifted me up into the air, just a foot off the ground. When I came back down his knee was right in between my thighs, right where I needed it to be.
I gasped at the impact of sensations. Then I groaned. I’d broken the kiss. Did that mean I only had one left?
His mouth was on mine again. His hand was in my hair, fingers digging into the base of my skull. He gave a tug arching my head back and delving even further with his tongue. His other hand rested just under my breast. I couldn’t decide where to concentrate.
He rubbed his knee between my thighs in a circular motion. Then I realized that wasn’t him making that tight circle. That was me. I was shamelessly humping the leg of a man, a street racer, whose name I didn’t know, out in the middle of the night, in the middle of the street.
“Fuck, you need it, don’t you? So fucking sweet. That’s it; rub your sweet cunt on my knee. Get your juices on me.”
His words were a punch to my gut. I should be offended that he’d said the C-word. It was disgusting, dirty -and I loved it.
I sat down on his knee then, trying to relieve the sweet pressure that was building there. He was right; I’d never had an orgasm before. Jerry hadn’t ever tried to go down there. I’d never touched myself. But now all of my attention was focused on that spot. I was going to do it. I was going to have my first orgasm. I was going to come, from my cunt, right out on the street.
The clanging of metal jerked me back to my senses.
“Fuck, Crow,” he said. “Seriously? Can you handle your goddamn tool?”
I hopped down off the knee between my legs and closed my thighs. I’d completely forgotten we’d had an audience. I couldn’t see the two guys fixing my wheel, but I’d heard them. On the other side of the street I saw the Asian guy still leaning against his car in the same pose, eyes still watching me with cool interest.
What had I been thinking? I’d gotten so hot and bothered I’d nearly let a group of guys see me orgasm.