Hello, naughty readers. My name is R.M. Garry and I
write sexy paranormal novels.
Today, I will be taking Roxanne's blog hostage.
I had a lot
of adventures in college which is why my stories are so titillating.
The tale I
am sharing with you involves a difficult course and a vampire. Even if you
don't believe in vampires, this story is so strange that it might change your
mind.
As usual, the names and events have been altered to
protect the not so innocent.
RESEARCH, STATISTICS, AND A VAMPIRE
"Ms.
Joseph, wake up."
Calloused
fingers nudged my shoulder. The touch was insistent. I knew the voice without
opening my eyes. Only one person would call me Ms. Joseph instead of Sabine.
It was Dr. Jaime
Moreno. His sent alone could send me
into overdrive. My throat went dry at the thought of his hands on me.
It is so hard to
think when he is so close to me.
I was a
fourth-year student at the University and had grown accustomed to his presence
at the library. He would work from there during finals in case students
required extra assistance. Everyone asked for help in his class. He always
insisted on teaching the evening courses. Other professors gladly passed on the
late night sections. The students in those sessions generally worked during the
day and had no ability to fully grasp the material. Eventually, the faculty member would be
overwhelmed by the additional study time needed by the night students. Dr.
Moreno was different. Even after four lectures, he would go to the library to
provide further assistance.
Dr. Jaime Moreno
was the department lead for research and statistics. Since I had the bright
idea of becoming a Biochemical Engineer, research and statistics was a
mandatory course. He was also the leading specialist and faculty advisor for my
program.
I had been breathing his air for four years,
and it still had to power to make me lightheaded.
"Are you
evaluating a new method for understanding the course text?" He inquired.
I hated his sexy
Columbian accent. It was distracting. How could any woman study with that kind
of sin staring her in the face? I tried to see him through squinted eyes, but
the view was not enough. Those beautiful green beacons deserved more. My head
made a valiant effort to come up off the table then failed. The response to his
question came from behind my big brown hoodie.
"The
material is so interesting that I fell into a state of suspended excitement.” I
retorted.
Yeah, I totally
made that up. Even my imagination responds to his presence.
"Which
topic made you so excited that you fell asleep?"
"All of
them?"
I searched
blindly on my lap for the nearly dry highlighter I had been using.
"Why don't
you call it a night, Ms. Joseph? You’ve been here since 6 p.m."
"I just
need another coffee. Then I can mentally devour the research on soil
biology."
"It’s
midnight; you don't need caffeine. Studies have found that a lack of sleep
leads to a decrease in cognitive functioning.”
His words
caressed my frayed nerves. It was midnight and I was exhausted. The library
stayed open until 2 a.m., but my brain had shut down hours ago. It was time to
call it a night. I was able to finally force my head off the table. I began to
fill my backpack. The previously mentioned dead brain decided to wander into
curiosity.
He has been in
class for most of the evening and then came to the library. Why isn’t he tired?
The hairs on my
arms stood in warning as he shifted to stand behind my seat. His proximity was
the most action I had seen in over a year.
My life was so
glamorous. At the ripe age of 21, most of my nights had been spent huddled in
the library. My idea of provocative was an unproven biological or chemical
theory. As I pondered the suckishness of my youth, he gently brushed my hair. I
jumped at the feel of the light touch.
Oh, holy
chemical reactions. He is touching my hair. Ok, Sabine, stay calm. It was
probably an accident or my subconscious praying for his attention. I had to
break the silence.
“Thank you for
waking me up Dr. Moreno. I am a little overwhelmed this term.”
“Is there
anything I can help you with Ms. Joseph?”
“You’ve already
spent hours tutoring me. What else can I learn?”
His next words
were spoken to the exposed skin on my neck.
“There is so
much I can teach you, Sabine. These books are limitations on what you can truly
learn.”
Every pore,
hair, and cell on my neck became electric. My exhausted body pulsed with life.
It wanted more. I need more from him.
Touch me,
please.
I took a breath
and cleared my throat.
“You have taught
me so many things. I am honored to have you as faculty advisor.”
Please let this
be real.
His dark bronzed
skin and green eyes had kept me awake for four years. The things I wanted to do
to those toned abs were improper between a student and her advisor. Yet, I help
my breath in preparations for his next words. My vital organs battled for life
sustaining oxygen as air froze in my lungs. I wanted his next words to own me.
“There are
hidden places in your inquisitive brain I want to explore.” He whispered softly
into my ear.”
“My test scores
can tell you everything you need about my intellectual abilities.”
His slow chuckle
sent tingles through my scalp.
“What I am
interested in cannot be measured on a Scantron my little scientist.”
I gripped the
sides of my seat in hopes of remaining upright. My extensive vocabulary
evaporated. How to do you respond to a statement like that? He gave me a brief
escape from my thoughts by speaking first.
“Sabine, the
choice is yours. I will be waiting outside. If you want more than what you have
received in four years, meet me in the library parking lot.”
This was the
only time he had ever called me by my first name. The entire time I have known
him, it has always been Ms. Joseph. Was I hallucinating?
The moment I
tried to ask another question, he was gone.
Okay, there was
no way my brain blacked out. He was just here, inviting me to elevate my
knowledge. In a rush, my bag was packed and the empty study hall sang the
echoes of my rushing feet.
If the sexiest
and most intelligent professor on campus wanted to teach me things, I was going
for it.
There was sweat
coating my hands even in 60-degree weather. As I approached the lot, the most
beautiful image set against a moonlit night caught my attention. My Biochemical God was leaning against his
fire red Camaro with a smile on his face.
I kept breathing
as my lips turned into the Sahara.
Okay, now what?
He wordlessly
escorted me to the passenger’s side of his vehicle. I was ushered in. The
pleasure of his words erupted over my senses as we were pulling out of his
reserved space.
“Thank you for
coming to me Sabine.”
Words, I need to
string letters together and respond. Help me brain. I took a chance.
“Why me?” I asked.
“You were the
shy quiet freshman who challenged my theory on hybrid plant evolution.”
“A lot of
student’s challenged you. Science demands that we challenge what is expected.”
His perfectly
stated “hmm” sent tingles up my spine. I had quoted a sentence from the very
first lecture he taught during my freshman year.
“No of them made
me question everything I know. None of them are you.” He informed in a patient
tone. He was accustomed to my numerous
questions.
“Why am I Sabine
today?” I probed further.
He gave me a
quick side glance before returning his focus to the road. The brief look made
me squirm in the warm leather seat.
“Your name
reminds me of the most succulent fruits in the world. Saying it makes me want
to taste you.” He confessed.
There went my
final brain cell.
My revelation
was whispered. “I almost stayed in the library.”
“I am glad you
came to me on your own my sweet.”
“Where are we
going?” Yes, this would have been a vital question before getting into the car,
but my rusty hormones were in control.
“Home. We are
going home.”
I desperately
wanted to panic but noticed his hands gripping the wheel tighter. He was
waiting for me to rebuke his statement. Fatigue and anticipation battled for
ownership within my cells. The energy to do more than surrender to my Chemical
God evaporated.
The drive was a
short or I was distracted by our conversation.
His house sat on
a massive property. It was late, so the only thing visible was the golden gate
that stood sentinel against the outside world. We pulled into a garage full of
vintage and new cars.
Good Lord, how
much does a Biochemist slash professor make?
Thoughts of
money and fancy cars vanished as our palms touched. He helped me out of the
car. I reached for the backpack and he stopped me.
“You won’t need
it. Your body is all we will work with tonight.”
Dear panties, I
apologize for your instant combustion.
“Are we
conducting a bio experiment?” I questioned in a high pitched squeak.
“Your sense of
humor is so refreshing. Ms. Joseph.”
Great. We are
back to Ms. Joseph. My panties may just survive.
I was escorted
into a grand living room. The colors seemed to blend into the shadows of the
fireplace. It felt warm and inviting. I turned in time to watch his green eyes
devour my body. The few feet separating our bodies was swallowed within
seconds. His hands braced my face.
“Tell me you
want this, Sabine. I need to hear you ask for more.”
Words failed me.
There was a loss of connection between my brain and my lips.
“If you don’t
want this, I can take you home.” His statement was made as he softly caressed
my back.
Oh hell no. I
did not stalk my watch and spend four years drooling to run away. I am a grown
woman.
The University
has a strict policy against students and professors engaging in any sexual
contact. He took a big risk tonight and I won’t let it be in vain.
“Dr. Moreno,
I—.”
He tilted my
chin up and spoke softly. My body automatically leaned into his touch.
“Jamie, to you,
I am Jaime.”
“I want
everything you are willing to give me, Jaime.”
His lips
descended in a hungry fury. He kissed and sucked along my throat and jaw. The
slow progress towards my lips was maddening. I tangled my fingers in his hair
and begged.
“My lips Jamie,
please.”
He growled into my skin before finally
granting my wish. When our mouths made contact, my skin buzzed. Blood rushed to
the surface of my swelling lips to greet his exploring tongue. My mind was lost
in the fog and I barely heard him speak.
“Tú eres mi
Eternidad.”
Lust clouded the
translation for a few seconds, but it finally clicked.
You are my
eternity
By the time I
gave the words their proper translation, it was too late. I felt a sharp prick
along my neck. The strong pull of his lips drove my desire higher. My body felt
fuzzy. He was drinking from me. The ache in my core ignited into a full
blaze right before the world went dark.
In the morning,
I woke up in a massive bed fully clothed and alone. The room was dark except
for the reflection of the glass on the dresser.
I must have fallen asleep after a long study session with the professor.
Last night was probably a dream my overworked subconscious had concocted. . It
was time to go home and study for the dreaded Research and Statistics finals.
What if I was talking
in my sleep? It would be really hard to discuss chemical bonds with Dr. Moreno
after begging him to kiss me in my sleep.
I climbed out of the bed on weak legs. Halfway
across the room, there was a pulsing on the side of my neck. My hands searched
for the anomaly and found two swollen bumps.
“You look
beautiful with my mark.”
I screamed and
nearly fell. Strong arms held me steady.
“You scared me.”
“Look in the
mirror my love. You are the scary one.”
I turned and saw
glowing brown orbs where my eyes used to be. His beautiful green beacons were
now glowing red. My scream was so loud that it jolted me out of the nightmare.
I fell out of the twin bed in my dorm room. The sheets and pillows had lost the
battle to remain on the bed. I pulled myself back onto the bed and flopped
down. Five deep calming breaths later, I was back to normal.
It was all a
dream.
I think…
Thank you, Roxanne for allowing me to take over your
blog. Until next time naughty readers, stay out of the library.
Beacon of Sound
R.M. Garry
Genre: Paranormal Romance
ASIN: B00LSSP92C
Number of pages: 247
Word Count: 86,260
Book Description:
You can fight desire…
Marie DeLou doesn’t want to believe that her life is anything less than perfect. After all, how could it not be? She has a thriving mental health practice and a doting husband who loves her. Still, when a freight train of a man tears through her quiet existence, she has to wonder if things—and people—are not always what they seem to be.
…but there’s no stopping destiny
Prince Patrick Alvang of the Noir Dera has one job to do--to save the Beacon of Light, Marie DeLou, from the danger lurking within her walls. But between her smoking hot body and her equally fiery attitude, his task is a whole lot more difficult than he’d expected. Lucky for him, it looks like the only way to get to the finish line is to play dirty along the way…
Excerpt: A dance with the devil
Marie felt like throwing a party to commemorate the end of her crazy day. She had one client committed and had to stop another session early in order to get her last client to stop crying.
She changed quickly and was ready for the studio within 10 minutes of her last session. She put her new CD on and fought to get through the Brandon traffic.
Brandon, Florida had traffic at all hours of the day. It was as if the traffic Gods rejected the idea of a peaceful drive through the city.
Once she arrived at her studio, she bolted inside and locked the door. She pulled on her silky, beaded skirt and wrapped it snugly around her waist. She then tied a blue scarf to each wrist and began stretching. She turned on the stereo and let the magic begin. Marie started to relax as the sound of Anoushka Shankar’s sitar filled the small dance space.
She could feel the energy coursing through her body. The music threaded through the empty spaces in her spirit. She spun and danced to ISHQ and felt as if she was flying when “Dancing in Madness” floated out of the speakers.
She spared no expense when it came to her studio. It was a place where art came alive. Art and peace were flowing through her body when she saw someone standing outside the studio. Doctor Fallen Angel had come to pay her a visit.
Oh, this is surely the devil’s work.
She would not be decent to him. Refusing to pause the music, she released the deadbolt and let him in.
“Dr. Alvang, I want you to know that Marcel has sold you up the river. There is no way you’ll survive this.” She turned and walked to the center of the studio. She wound her hips to "Si No Puedo Verla" and waited for his response. “You will dance and not complain. You have invaded my peace and I will not give you anything until you’re broken by my music.”
Men hated to dance and she was prepared to mop the floor with the good doctor. Marcel was the only man that could keep pace.
Patrick didn’t hesitate. He walked up behind her and grabbed her by the waist. She relaxed into his hold for a split second. They danced like flames leaping to kiss the air.
It was flawless.
She became lost in the pain, pleasure, joy, and seduction of the sitar and the guitars. Patrick touched every inch of her and demanded that her body respond.
She backed away as her leg slid to his waist. He lifted Marie by the waist and positioned her closer. His palms were on the small of her back. The movement pressed their bodies close. There was no escaping.
It was as if he’d melted into her and bonded them together. The CD ended, and then, without warning, the song changed. Mark Rosas was singing "Higher" and Patrick continued dancing as if the shift in music was inconsequential.
She’d left that dance mix at home.
Why was it playing? The dubstep rhythm in the song gave him an opportunity to really show off. He lifted her into his arms again.
Patrick turned her toward one of the mirrors as he ground into her back. She wrapped her arms around his neck and felt his breath brushing against her ear. She was transfixed. Her eyes were glued to the mirror. Their bodies resembled an erotic oil painting.
Patrick pulled her in tighter and she melted into him. Their legs moved, but Marie was lost in the dance.
She heard Mark sing, “I just want to take you higher, com'n let me light your fire."
He spun her around and their eyes met. Patrick's were glowing cobalt beacons that held her gaze. His gaze remained locked on her as if mapping her every emotion. As the song came to an end, he slid her to the floor. And she came to rest in a kneeling position at his feet.
About the Author:
R.M. Garry lives with her three male children a.k.a the wolf pack and her husband of 12 years.
Writing allows her to maintain her sanity while juggling her world.
Her goal is to give readers a brief escape from the realities of their world.
When she isn’t writing, R.M. is reading and keeping up with her favorite authors.
For updates and book information readers can visit
Twitter: @authorrmgarry
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/rmgarry
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/RMGarry
Word Press Blog: http://authorrmgarry.wordpress.com/
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1 comments:
Thank you for allowing me to take over Roxanne.
R.M. Garry
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