Cricket Fierce, the best bounty hunter in all the worlds, is determined to capture the meanest man alive--The Skinner. This bounty will give her the promotion and accolades she deserves and finally, all her hard work will pay off.
Legendary Jak Copas wants The Skinner just as much as Cricket does, if not more, and he’s not going to let anything or anyone stand in his way. He doesn’t expect to fall in love. And even when Cricket uses her special talent to take on the physical form of a man, he can’t resist her.
Now the only thing stopping either of them is the fact that they have found a love and desire that may be a whole lot more important than Cricket’s career or Jak’s revenge. But The Skinner has a few plans of his own, and if he has his way, neither Cricket nor Jak will survive the endgame he has waiting for them.
Publisher's Note: This book contains explicit sexual situations, graphic language, and material that some readers may find objectionable.
Her breasts quivered as she shivered, drawing his gaze, then his fingers. Kneeling between her legs, he ran his fingers over her distended nipples, pinching them gently, then moving his calloused palms over them in small, soft circles.
“Copas,” she said, then groaned. She started to grab his fingers and make his touches harder, but one dark look from him made her drop her hands back to the ground.
“Lie still,” he growled.
“I want…” She ran her hands over her ribs to her belly, and lower, to delve between her parted legs.
“I know what you want,” he murmured and gently pushed her fingers out of the way so he could touch her himself.
He slid his fingers between her slippery folds and began to rub her pussy, up over her clit, and back again, his movements slow and heavy.
She squeezed her eyes shut and moved her hips in time with his fingers. Oh, so good.
“Faster, Copas. Faster.”
But he wasn’t going to go faster until he was ready. He continued rubbing her, pushing her closer and closer to the edge.
When she cried out, her climax so close her entire body tensed, he stopped. Just stopped.
She jerked her eyes open. “No!”
But he smiled down at her and moved his wet fingers to her breasts, pinching her nipples to nearly unbearably stiff points of delight. Her breasts were heavy, swollen with desire. Her orgasm retreated.
Then he leaned over, his head blotting out the moon, to kiss her.
She didn’t move, just closed her eyes, parted her lips, and waited. His slid his lips against hers, gentle and easy, and she clenched her fists to keep from grabbing the back of his head and smashing her lips against his.
Being made love to by him was like dancing a long, slow dance, and every touch meant something. When he kissed her, there was nothing else, just that kiss, and that was enough. He tasted her, swept his tongue across her lips, then slid it between them to touch her tongue.
He pressed his lips a little harder against hers, a little more insistently, as though he were testing himself. Then he shuddered, just a small, barely there movement, and she knew he was as affected as she was.
She moved her hands up his arms, over his biceps to his warm, wide shoulders, and he mirrored her movements with his own. He kept kissing her but moved one of his hands to her throat.
His hand was big. As he cupped her throat, she shivered with the knowledge that if he wanted to, he could hurt her, this man. She was in his hands.
He might be a legend of sorts, but what did she really know of him? It didn’t matter. Her attraction for him was overwhelming. She wanted him, and now she had him.
That was one lesson she’d learned early on. You took your pleasures when and where you could find them.
But he just kept his hand on her throat and kissed her, his kiss becoming deeper and harder. His other hand supported him and kept his substantial weight off her, but she pressed herself against him, craving the warmth of his body.
His heat scorched her. At last he moved his hand from her throat to her breast, his fingers rubbing over her taut nipple. He slid his tongue against hers, his every movement slow and lingering.
She moved her legs restlessly, once again attempting to slip her fingers between her legs to relieve some of the pressure.
“No,” he whispered, his lips moving against hers. “No.”
“I’m dying, Copas.”
His nearly silent laughter rumbled deep inside his chest, and he drew back to stare down at her. His eyes glittered with desire. “What an impatient little thing you are.”
She’d always been a little more full of need than most people. Always more passionate, greedier. She needed, and she wanted. There was no room for patience. “You don’t understand.”
His smile dropped as though it had never been. “Take my cock in your hand, Annika.”
Her name left his mouth with a smoothness she’d never heard before, and with breathless anticipation she reached for his erection. When she found it, she gasped. It was so hard, huge, and hot. She squeezed, and it jerked in her hand, throbbing hard.
Cassidy Hunter has been creating stories nearly since she could hold a pen, always with a soft spot for paranormal, fantasy, and the unusual. Her hobbies include history, bird watching, and photography, and she has a colossal fondness for boots and bags.
She lives in Ohio with two roomies and a spoiled Golden Retriever mix named Chloe.
To contact Cassidy or for more information, excerpts, and news about her books, visit her website.