PG13 Excerpt by Amanda Young

Amanda Young

Shameful by Amanda Young
Publisher: Samhain Publishing (April 1, 2008)
ISBN-13: 978-1599987637
http://www. amazon. com/gp/product/1599987635/ref=cm_arms_pdp_dp



PG-13 Excerpt:

The bell above the door jangled. Wind swept into the room along with what had to be two of the sexiest men she'd ever laid eyes on. Both men were tall and broad of shoulder. Each wore a long, black designer trench coat. One alone was probably worth at least as much as she would pay in rent over the next couple of months, however, that was where their similarities ended. In their own way, they were both stunning, but Gail's gaze was inexplicably drawn to the taller of the two men.
He wasn't classically handsome. With his shaggy auburn hair and square jawline, he wouldn't have been described by anyone as one of the pretty boys who graced the covers of a magazine or the silver screen. Instead, he possessed a raw masculinity that oozed testosterone.
The very way he swaggered into the lobby, his head held high and proud, the shallow cleft in his chin leading the way, made Gail think of handcuffs and rough, sweaty sex. The kind where you had to beg and plead before your partner allowed you to reach an earth-shattering release. The kind of sex she'd only read about in her romance novels.
Hypnotic, emerald green eyes, surrounded by black-lace-fringed eyelashes, rose and met hers. Their gazes locked and Gail forgot how to breathe. She felt like he could see into the depths of her soul, scrounge out all the secrets she held. Some unexplainable primal need sprang up inside of her, begged her to lie down at the altar of his lust and slake the sexual thirst he had yet to quench.
His gaze broke away from her as he turned to say something to his companion, and just like that she was breathing again. A wiggly tingle raced down her spine and Gail shivered, pushing away her strange thoughts. With his attention momentarily diverted, it also gave her a chance to check out his companion.
The man accompanying Mr. Hot-sex was beautiful. There was no other way to describe him. Shiny, iridescent black hair brushed away from his forehead and hung in a thick braid down his back, ending just short of where she figured his tight, firm bottom was located. High cheekbones, dark chocolate eyes and full pink lips rounded out his angular face. Where his friend screamed of raging testosterone and rough sex, he whispered of long passionate nights filled with soft kisses and endless lovemaking.
They complemented each other. One rough and tumble, the other gentle and coaxing. As far as Gail was concerned, that meant neither one of them would give her more than a passing glance.
If only she was five inches taller and twenty pounds lighter…
While pretending to type something into the computer, she watched the men out of the corner of her eye. They spoke in hushed tones, so she couldn't make out what was being said, but even without being able to hear, gazing at them was enough of a treat. It wasn't often she got to see men as hot as these two. Just looking would be plenty to fuel her fantasies for a good, long while.
As she looked on, the dark-headed man nodded in her direction. Heat suffused her face at being caught staring and she dropped her gaze to the keyboard just as the men stepped apart, apparently finished with their discussion. Her cheeks on fire, she didn't dare a glance up until they stood on the other side of the service desk. Mr. Hot-sex, who stood slightly in front of his friend, laid a titanium credit card in front of her. Not platinum, titanium. Even working in the motel, she'd never seen one of those.
She fidgeted as her abnormally strong sense of smell kicked in. As she rubbed the toe of one shoe over the other, the intoxicating aroma of male musk tinged with the strong overlay of scented deodorant invaded her nostrils. "Welcome to the Dew Drop Inn. How may I help you?"
"Need a room," said Mr. Hot-sex, his voice low and husky. Gail shivered, imagining that same voice whispering dirty words to her in the middle of the night while he rammed his stiff cock in and out of her aching pussy.
Her body throbbing from the mental picture show in her mind, Gail pasted on a fake work smile and pushed away the urge to whimper. "Sure."
She shot a quick glance at the second man before meeting Mr. Hot-sex's gaze. "Double beds?"
"King," he replied, his gaze combing her face, making her feel like he was daring her to say something about their sleeping arrangements. As if she would. She'd grown accustomed to all the hot ones being gay or married. Though she had absolutely no reason to feel disappointed, she did. "No problem," Gail muttered. "Just tonight or are y'all planning to stay longer?"
"Depends."
She wanted to ask what the length of their stay depended on, but figured she already knew the answer—the weather. "Um, okay. In that case, I'll just authorize your credit card for the funds and we'll charge you when you check out. That okay?"
He nodded, his long, slim fingers tapping against the white surface of the counter.
Gail logged him into the computer and assigned him a room number. She picked up the plastic on the counter and swiped it from end to end in the credit-card machine, biting her lip as she waited for it to go through. When it was accepted, she turned back to him. "I'll just need to see an ID then and you'll be all set, Mr…"—she glanced down at the card she held out to him—"uh, Mr. Long." Something about his name tickled her and she had to suppress a smile. It was a childish response, but she couldn't help wondering if he lived up to his name.
He traded her one card for another, his calloused fingers rasping over her palm. Electric tingles shot up her arm and zinged straight to her nipples, making them tighten and peak against her shirt. Mr. Long's attention dropped to her chest and she could've sworn she felt his gaze like a touch against her breasts.
Flustered, she quickly finished filling in the personal information the computer required for registration. She gave them the room farthest from the lobby, not that the last room was all that far away since there were only twelve rooms. Done, she pushed his room key across the countertop, careful not to touch him. "Here you go. You're in room twelve. It's the last one at the end of the hall. Y'all shouldn't have any problem finding it."
He plucked the key off the counter and turned to his companion, handing it over. "Thanks," he murmured while bending to pick up their luggage.
"Have a good night," she inanely replied as they walked away.
When they disappeared around the corner, she let out a tense breath of relief. Thank God they were gone. With any luck, she wouldn't have to face either one of them again. The way her body responded to their presence was mortifying. She knew it had been too long since the last time she'd gotten laid but that didn't mean she wanted to advertise it to the world.
Glancing down, she saw her nipples poking out of her shirt. Traitors. The horny little sluts were begging for attention and apparently didn't care if they humiliated her in the process.
Gail flopped back in her chair, picked up her novel and sank back into a fantasy world where average women like her saw just as much action as drop-dead-gorgeous supermodels.