R-excerpt w/blurb (M/M): Thunderball (a Sylver & Steele story)

Sylver Starr is a werewolf by birth, a cross-dresser by desire, and a secret agent for Earth Guardians, Inc.--although that last is beginning to wear a bit thin. Take tonight, for instance. Posing as participants, Sylver and his partner infiltrate the brutal blood-sport of dog fighting. Their mission is to rescue a kidnapping victim. Unfortunately, the victim is a giant mastiff who shows no sign of cooperating. Abused by his captors and trained to kill, he seems more interested in ripping Sylver to shreds. Understandable, but painful nonetheless. To Sylver, who knows the dog's history, the situation is infuriating and heartbreaking.

And Sylver's partner adds to the stress by being...well, himself. Sexy and aggravating in the same breath. He's the great Hunter Steele--founder and chief of Earth Guardians, Inc.--a billionaire cat-shifter with a serious James Bond complex. Hunter cooks up these plots, and Sylver gets stuck with the dirty dishes. Always. For a werewolf, it's not easy taking orders from a cat. Put it all together and Sylver's had a bellyful. After this mission, there won't be another. It'll be bye-bye EG.

And hello Hunter's rage, because no one quits his team--especially not Sylver. They're not just work partners. In shifter terminology, the canine-feline pair are each other's divinely appointed life-mates. Go figure. If this is a match made in heaven, someone up there has a lot of explaining to do. It's difficult enough being married to your polar opposite, but when your spouse is also your boss, nerves will be rubbed raw--along with fevered flesh, because neither man is above using seduction to get his way. And both have their own brand of sizzle. In fact, if the two live long enough for this battle of wills to reach the bedroom, it's anyone's guess who will emerge on top. Then again, maybe it doesn't matter. This is one sport, after all, where the winner may take all, but the "loser" still gets a big prize...

THUNDERBALL
A "Sylver & Steele" story
Published by Amber Quill Press
URL: http://amberquill.com/AmberAllure/Thunderball.html

Genres: Gay / Dark Fantasy / Werewolf / Shapeshifter / Science Fiction / Futuristic / Paranormal / Psychic Phenomena / Action / Adventure / BDSM (Light) / Romantic Comedy / Series
ISBN-13: 978-1-60272-646-8
Cover by Trace Edward Zaber

Review snips:
"OMG! I could not believe how hard and long I laughed... The rolling dialog between Sylver and Hunter was just too funny, and still showed just how much they loved each other... Thunderball is a must read and a definite keeper just for their relationship alone." ~by Jo for Joyfully Reviewed
http://www.joyfullyreviewed.com/reviews/Apr10/thunderball.mr.html

"Thunderball has a lot of action, suspense and hot sex and you’re in for a fun ride if you buy this book. Recommended." ~by Jessewave, for Reviews by Jessewave
http://www.reviewsbyjessewave.com/?p=18518#more-18518

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EXCERPT (adult):

...Evil intent in his gaze, he starts inching toward me, sliding around the inner circumference of the circular sunken tub--a manmade fishpond, actually, but we relocated the fish, installed faucets and drains, and use it for bathing. Very chic. Beautiful blue marble with gold trim. The sumptuous centerpiece of an Arabian Nights style garden in the courtyard of Hunter’s billion-dollar “beach bungalow” on the Massachusetts coast.

A crystalline geodesic dome protects the garden from the New England weather. Feathery snowflakes fall outside, painting the world white, but we’re warm and toasty in here--too warm, I’m afraid--surrounded by fragrant blossoms and green fronds. Exotic splendor, lavish and lascivious. Sultry elegance, rich with the promise of fleshy delights.

“Thanks, I try,” Hunter says, a smug tilt to his lips.

My eyes narrow. “I was thinking of the courtyard, damn it.”

“Whatever.” The grin waxes wicked. “Wanna play Ottoman Empire? I’ll be the sultan and you can be my harem.”

Hmm, I do have a great belly-dancer costume...

He reaches for me, and I shimmy to the side.

Uh-uh... No touching! I refuse to succumb to his lethal seductive force until I gain a few concessions. Mind you, refusing sex--especially Hunter’s brand--isn’t something I’m famous for, but the headache helps. If I focus on that, maybe I can forget the other ache lower down.

Neck deep in hot water--in more ways than one--I scoot my endangered ass to the right as Hunter advances from the left.

“Keep it up,” he taunts. “I love a challenge.”

So do I, but not this kind. Unfortunately for me, it’s been “up” since he invaded my bath, shortly after I’d settled my bruised body--and ego--into the bubbles.

“I know. I can sense your arousal.”

Which increases his. And with it, his speed. To maintain my distance, I’m forced to match his pace.

Advance and retreat, around and around... I don’t know why I thought a bath would relax me. Soon we’ve made two full circuits and begun a third, moving faster and faster but always opposite each other, neither of us gaining or losing ground.

Cripes, this is making me dizzy. The chase whips up additional lather. Perfumed froth, lacy white and lush with the earthy aroma of patchouli, sloshes over the marble rim. *Glub.* I just swallowed some. The stuff smells a lot better than it tastes. Yuck.

“Here, try a mouthful of this instead.”

Without warning, Hunter stops. I hit my own brakes just in time to avoid slamming into him. For a breathless moment, I freeze, trapped in a high-beam amber glare. Then, like Poseidon rising out of the sea foam, Hunter stands and looms over me in an upright straddle stance.

Real upright.

I’m nose to nose with a mesmerizing erection.

Um...if cocks had noses, I mean. My eyes cross studying it.

How about nose to plum-sized swollen head? A big plum, purple tinted, ripe and juicy, satin smooth and slick with suds. Glistening with the diamond sparkle of water droplets... Smelling of patchouli and male musk...

Yes, I’m rambling. Who wouldn’t be with a delicious dick like this staring them in the face? The *helpful* headache melts away in the heat of the moment--softens and dulls as something else grows harder. It can’t compete with the sharper ache. All I feel is the pressure and burn as my own dick gains painful new proportions. All my awareness now centers on imminent sex. My nostrils flare and I lick my lips, inhaling the heady scent of desire...the scent of Hunter.

I’m so in trouble.

My breath quickens, and my pulse speeds right along with it.

Lord, have mercy... Help me, Herne, the Horned God of animals and shifters. Except Herne is pretty lusty, as most pagan deities are. He’d probably be on Hunter’s side... Hey, what about the Horned Goddess, Hathor?

“She’d agree with me, too.” A sinister chuckle underscores the words. “And you’re still rambling.”

“Yeah, well, it’s a defense mechanism, okay?”

“How’s it working?”

Like crap. As if he didn’t know. Hah. While I stare, fixated, an iridescent pearl of pre-cum appears at the end of his shaft. Suddenly, I’m salivating. I can almost taste Hunter’s succulent flavor, salty and rich, on my tongue...

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