Here’s a peek into the middle of ROGUE GODDESSES. It’s the sequel to the paranomal, sci fi, romantic thriller AMERICAN GODDESSES.
If you don’t like strong women, I advise going no further!
by Gary Henry
One Month Earlier
Melnikova toyed with her latest man.
They lay bathed in sunlight, on the black silk cushions of a double-divan by the compound’s aquamarine salt-water swimming pool.
Costa Rican porn star Enrique Calderon, muscled like a gladiator, whose disposition and film roles focused entirely on dominating women, found himself aroused beyond endurance, helpless and frightened.
It hadn’t started that way.
It had started with two business-like young men, Eduardo and Manuel, arriving at his hacienda. Manuel carried a briefcase. Their employer had seen his films, they said.
They said she wanted to see if he could dominate her, if he could tame her the way he’d tamed the proud young beauties in his films.
And who is this employer? Eduardo and Manuel wouldn’t say.
And when would she like him? Now? Impossible.
Manuel opened the briefcase. Calderon’s brown eyes widened at the stacks of Yankee hundred-dollar bills filling the case. Manuel shoved the case into Enrique’s arms.
“Take the money,” Manuel said.
“Or take the bullet,” Eduardo said.
Enrique hadn’t seen Eduardo move, yet there was the hand-weapon, its black, blunt snout looking at the blue silk shirt covering Enrique’s washboard abs.
Even if he’d been foolish enough to make a move, the briefcase of money in his hands precluded it.
“I’ll take the money,” Enrique said.
They blindfolded and transported him, and the next thing he saw was the slim, dark-haired young girl stretched out on the divan by the pool, a bit of black fabric around her hips and another covering her small breasts.
“I will call for you when I am done,” she told her two men, and Manuel and Eduardo left him alone with her. In one fluid movement, she’d risen to her feet.
She took in his arrogant good looks, thick black hair slicked back from the broad forehead, the slanting brown eyes under thick brows, the aquiline nose, full lips and cleft chin, the sun-darkened skin. She noted his broad brown chest with the spattering of dark hair beneath the unbuttoned blue shirt.
Her eyes went to his black Bermuda shorts, long athletic legs and sandaled feet.
He felt a rush of confidence after the insecurity of being manhandled by the two thugs. He knew his effect on women. Women he could handle.
“Come,” she said.
He approached within inches, sure his commanding appearance would weaken the girl’s knees and take away her breath. He looked down at her, her long black hair, round shoulders and creamy skin. He felt the beast stir. He clenched and unclenched his strong hands.
“Who are you?” he asked.
“I will not tell you,” she said. “Perhaps you can make me tell you.”
“My boys will not bother us,” she said. “You can try to do your pig-worst.”
“My pig-worst, eh?”
He seized her, meaning to crush her to him and invade her mouth with his tongue, to loosen her up a little before the rough stuff, but —
He couldn’t move her.
“I thought you were a strong man,” the girl said.
He backhanded her, and cried out in pain as flesh and bone struck invulnerable woman.
He held his injured hand and glared at her.
“You are one of the helpful lady brujas! But I thought they only did good works!”
“I am not a helpful lady. And I do not do good works,” she said. “And now we shall have some really fun games.”
With a will of their own, Enrique’s hands clapped together, prayer-like. His knees buckled, and in an instant he was on them, staring up at the girl.
“What are you going to do with me?”
“Don’t be afraid. I will probably not kill you.” She settled to her knees in front of him and willed his hands onto her hips. She leaned into the immobilized man and brushed his lips with her own.
“But Enrique,” she whispered, “it is very important that you please me. Do you understand?”
“Yes!” He nodded hard for emphasis.
“Good. Because I can do this to you.” Her lips parted, almost as if she expected a kiss, revealing small white teeth, and a spasm of pain lanced through Enrique. Only her psychic command to kneel kept him upright. He moaned.
“Or I can do this.”
She pursed her lips in a sweet smile and he gasped and trembled as waves of orgasmic pleasure suffused his body head to toe.
From her knees, she rose into the air a few inches above the concrete pool deck and hovered before the quivering, kneeling man.
“Enough,” she said. “Please me.”
The pleasure dissipated. Finding himself released, Enrique seized her hips and pulled down her bikini bottom. He thrust his face between her long, tanned thighs. His tongue quested into her hot places, lent urgency by the memory of pain and pleasure so easily administered and against which there was no defense.
His eyes shut, he reached for her breasts, but caught his breath as he felt himself and the woman airborne for a moment. In the next moment, they nestled into the soft, silken cushions of the divan.
He crushed himself against the strange, irresistibly powerful girl, peppering her with kisses, moving down from cheeks and lips to throat and neck to breasts and belly and lower, praying that he satisfied her.
His own orgasm gathered momentum, but fear of what she might do to him if he climaxed before she did helped him keep it down.
“He’s here!” she shouted.
An invisible force like a giant hand grabbed him and flung him off Melnikova, onto the concrete.
She sat up calling for her men, not caring if they saw her nude.
Eduardo and Manuel burst into the pool area.
“Take him home,” Melnikova said, indicating Enrique groveling on the concrete. “Give him more money. Tell him you will kill him if he speaks of this. Send me Ramon and Fleurio. Get me vodka now. He’s here! I feel him!” RG