Here's a teeny excerpt from my upcoming Samhain release, Lost and Found:
Nate watched Derek embrace his wife and kiss her, and shifted in the armchair. He’d almost been hoping she’d still be pissed at Derek. He deserved it. He should have been home with his wife.
For some reason, Nate was annoyed at his friend. He’d hurt Krissa. And then he didn’t even come home for dinner. Again.
Hell, it was none of his business. If Krissa was okay, he shouldn’t be worked up about it anymore either.
Krissa snuggled into Derek’s side, closer, and Derek put both arms around her. One hand stroked her hip and she rested her cheek on his chest, her hand on his shoulder. Then Derek slid his hand to the back of her thigh and lifted her knee across his lap. With a sigh, Krissa’s hand moved to Derek’s neck and she tipped her head back to look at his face.
“I’m sorry, babe,” he whispered. Nate could barely hear him. He wanted to look away from the increasing intimacy of their pose, but couldn’t. From behind his dark glasses, he knew they couldn’t really tell if he was looking at them or not. He faced the television screen but could see them.
Derek bent his head and kissed Krissa again, and Nate watched her mouth open beneath Derek’s. Nate’s groin tightened, heavy and full. The kiss deepened, Krissa’s hand on Derek’s cheek, his hand on her ass. As they kissed, mouths shifting, he could see tongues touching and licking, heard soft breaths and soft, wet suckling noises.
Someone groaned—he wasn’t sure if it was Krissa or Derek—and Nate’s cock swelled. Jesus. Had they forgotten he was there?
His cock throbbed beneath the fly of his jeans, and he altered his position in the chair again. He swallowed, but still couldn’t drag his eyes off the vignette of the couple making out in front of him.
Their mouths parted, wet and shiny, and they looked at each other. Krissa blinked, caressed her husband’s face. Derek nuzzled her neck, kissed her throat.
Krissa’s eyes drifted to Nate and widened. “Oh.” She pushed at Derek. “Derek. Stop.”
“Mmm.” He licked her throat and she quivered.
“Stop, Derek. Nate’s here.”
“S’okay,” he murmured. “He likes to watch. Dontcha, Nate?”
Derek lifted his head and sent a wicked smile Nate’s way.
Nate’s skin burned and tingled all over and his cock pulsed. He wanted to touch himself. He wanted to see more. He wanted Derek to touch Krissa. Hell, Nate wanted to touch Krissa.
He swallowed a groan but didn’t answer Derek, who had returned to kissing and sucking the soft flesh of Krissa’s neck and shoulder. Her head fell back.
“Derek…” her voice trailed off.
Touch her. Nate could see her breasts swelling beneath her thin T-shirt, begging to be touched. Christ, if Derek didn’t do it soon, he was going to.
Derek did it. His hand slid up over Krissa’s flat stomach under the T-shirt, and cupped her breast.
Nate was going to explode.
Krissa gave a soft moan that sounded like the word “no” but if it was, Derek ignored her, caressed her breast, the T-shirt riding high and exposing her smooth tummy.
Fuck. Nate was either going to whip his dick out and jerk off right there in front of them, or he was going to burst. Gritting his teeth, he rose to his feet and almost staggered out of the room.
“I’ll give you two some privacy,” he muttered, and headed to his room.
He tore off the sunglasses, not bothering with the light in his room, and fell onto the bed, hands fumbling at his zipper. He shoved his jeans open and down, pulled out his aching cock and fisted it. He groaned into the soft darkness, the pull of his hand gratifying, relieving. He slid his other hand under his T-shirt, rubbed his chest as he thrust into his fist. Then he lowered his hand to cup his balls, squeezed, and pumped into his hand only a few times before he came, white hot streams of semen spurting onto his belly.
He lay there panting, staring at the ceiling.
Derek was only half right. Nate did like to watch. But Derek liked to watch, too.