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Exclusive Excerpt: Twisted Pain Lisa DeMora

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Synopsis

Legends are born from moments like these. Folktales spun around a single point in time so perfect, you can almost hear the click resonating through the universe as things align.

George Bell, aka Twisted, knows the odds are against him. Have been all his life. Born in a Louisiana bordello, raised around the rough and rowdy men of a motorcycle club, he’s never been the lucky type. But he believes luck can change, so when fate gives him a glimpse of breathtaking beauty, he’s more than willing to roll the dice. Chancing upon what could be the woman of his dreams, he’s prepared to push this streak as far as he can.

Penny Dane’s background gives her an edge in the life she’s chosen to lead. Raised in a can-do family, she’s resilient, rolling with life’s punches and landing on her feet. But, when the past holds painful secrets—when a single misstep can turn deadly—can she trust the passion this man stirs in her?

On the surface, Bell and Penny don’t work. Their mismatched worlds are too different. But like a backwater bayou, what you see is not the whole story, there are mysteries buried underneath. Penny is the red-haired beauty caught up in a web of lies. Bell is like no one she’s ever met before. The problem is, he knows it.

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From Chapter Fourteen

Penny sat in Bell’s darkened kitchen staring out the window with unseeing eyes. Thinking. Turning things over in her mind. Coming to the same conclusions.

Three days.

He’d been gone three days. She’d woken to find him gone, not uncommon; a text told her he might be late, something she assumed had to do with club business. Something she knew a lot about, given Bagger’s position, and her long-term association with the CoBos. She had laundry to do and needed to clean out the truck. There was lots to keep her busy in this place where she was still settling. While it was a change she hadn’t expected, she found herself enjoying the sense of domesticity gained by moving in with Bell. It was nice to come home to a place inhabited by another person and even better when that person was Bell.

“Baby,” he whispered, “just bring your shit here.” She arched her neck, inviting an extension of the line of kisses he was pressing to her skin and he took her up on that offer, his beard scratching and dragging up her throat. “Then you won’t hafta haul your ass outta my bed.” Hand to her breast, he began the soft rolling movements she loved so much. She’d gotten in about an hour earlier, first swinging by the truck yard to dump off the trailer, then to her house to pick up her bike and a change of clothes, leaving the bobtail sitting in front of her garage. The look on his face when she rolled into his driveway on her bobber was priceless, and she had barely gotten the kickstand down before he was on her, lifting her from the saddle and holding her tight. “Feed my baby,” he’d whispered into her neck, the feel of him making her shiver. Now, they were lying in his bed, bellies full of the biscuits and gravy he’d made for supper.

His back arched as he pressed his hips against her, letting her feel the hardness of his cock against her thigh. She liked that, knowing he wanted her. Had wanted her since the first moment he saw her, staring down at him from the seat. He’d worked to get her, too. Not just that first night when he turned every fearful thought into dust, leaving it by the wayside as he taught her what passion felt like, but every time they’d been intimate since.

Bell nuzzled into her neck, beard rasping across her skin as his hand dipped to her waist, the chill of the room raising goose bumps on her skin when he dragged the hem of her shirt high. Fingertips trailing across her exposed belly, he adjusted in the bed beside her, scooting down slightly. Penny’s breath sped up, knowing what this signaled, because as much as he liked touching her, he seemed to enjoy playing with her breasts nearly as much as the act of fucking itself. He could spend what felt like hours licking and sucking, teasing her until she was so wet, he could slide inside on a single thrust.

“Gonna be my good girl?”

With his murmured question against her belly, his head angled up so he could look at her. She met his heated gaze and nodded, knowing what he wanted, what she wanted to give him.Surrender. She lifted her hands, fingers trailing through his hair from where she’d been cupping the back of his head, and tucked them underneath the pillow, threading her fingers together. Binding her hands together tightly, even if he couldn’t see, compliant and suddenly on the edge of an orgasm, the anticipation building in her belly faster than he could bring it, clenching and tight. Knowing what he’d be giving her in time, knowing he’d let her touch him when he was moving inside her. She was still riding that wave of need when he moved to cover her, hearing his chuckle rattle through her as he arched into her, pressed tight…and she came.

Head turned to the side, eyes closed against the sensations, lips holding back the cries bubbling up her throat, she quivered and knew that gave it away when he said, “One.” That voice, that word, his weight holding her pelvis immobile when she wanted to thrust up against him, his hands on either side of her ribcage, pushing her shirt high up under her arms. Then his mouth was on her, covering her breast, pulling hard, the suction an unbearable sensation, unbelievable that it connected to so much inside her, threads drawn taut. His beard was an entity to itself, trailing wickedly low on her belly, commanding a response as it swept across her sensitive nipples. Rubbing and scrubbing like a bristle brush one moment, it was soft as a kitten’s fur the next. Teasing and pleasing, then gone. Her groan of dismay rang through the room, mourning the absence, even knowing he would bring it back, give her that again, gasping as she acutely anticipated the return.

“Good girls get what they need.” His voice was hoarse with what she’d come to know was desire, and she licked her lips, feeling him tensing as he moved up, rocking against her. “My shiny Penny.” His words were enough to pull another shiver from her because he exposed himself with every sound. Truth rang through the possessive words. “Mine.” With his mouth to her breast, he drew deep again, and those threads lifted her spine, stringing her like a marionette doll, shoulders pressing deep, elbows as wide as her thighs, accepting him, taking everything he had to offer.

“Naked.” His weight lifted, settled to the mattress at her side and she opened her eyes. “Now, Penny.” Ass to the bed, Bell stripped. His eyes settled on her, and she scrambled to do as he demanded. I like that, she thought as her fingers wrestled with her jeans, him knowing exactly what he wants from me. It made her comfortable in ways that should have been uncomfortable instead, but he never took her power away. In giving her a framework within which to work, he actually gave her the freedom to fill the space completely. He wanted her naked, which meant she didn’t have to worry about what panties she had on, or if she’d shaved her legs last night. She didn’t have to think about makeup, or hair, or anything except giving him what he wanted. But if she balked, if she had a reason to say no, he listened. Sometimes not even listening, but more like knowing. Mind reader. My magic man.

About the Author

Raised in the south, MariaLisa learned about the magic of books at an early age. Every summer, she would spend hours in the local library, devouring books of every genre. Self-described as a book-a-holic, she says “I’ve always loved to read, but then I discovered writing, and found I adored that, too. For reading … if nothing else is available, I’ve been known to read the back of the cereal box.”

A hockey fan, hiker, gamer, and single mom of a special needs son, she embraces her inner geek and has been working in the tech field for a publishing company for a couple decades.

Music is a driving passion, and she says, “I love music of nearly any genre — jazz, country, rock, alt rock, metal, classical, bluegrass, rap, hip hop … you name it, I listen to it. I can often be seen dancing through the house in the early mornings. But I really, REALLY love live music. My favorite thing with music is seeing bands in small, dive bars [read: small, intimate venues]. If said bar [venue] has a good selection of premium tequila, then that’s a plus!”

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2 Comments

  1. Miranda

    Thank you for all you do! xo

  2. MariaLisa deMora

    Thanks so much for hosting! <3
    ~ML

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