Total pages in book: 42
Estimated words: 39764 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 199(@200wpm)___ 159(@250wpm)___ 133(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 39764 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 199(@200wpm)___ 159(@250wpm)___ 133(@300wpm)
Shanna York was set to achieve her glittering ballroom dreams and become a dance champion—until her dance partner gets tangled up in scandal and blackmail. With the clock ticking and all her ambitions at stake, the last thing she needs is the gorgeous owner of a sex club tempting her with the forbidden.
Or maybe that’s the very thing she needs…
Alejandro Diaz has sizzled for Shanna since he set eyes on her months ago. Her repeated rebuffs will make her surrender that much sweeter. She’s ambitious and driven…but so is he. When she asks for his assistance to ensnare a voyeuristic blackmailer with a video fetish, he doesn’t hesitate to help her stage a bedroom trap. But neither is prepared to face scorching, endless passion, the blackmailer’s real identity—or the undeniable love that grows between them.
** This title is a reissue of a 2007 release
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
1
Shanna
Who knew it would take a mere two minutes, seventeen seconds to destroy all my dreams?
I eject the flash drive from my laptop, resisting the urge to fling it across the dressing room. Instead, I set it with great care on the table beside me and stand, sniffing back my tears.
I adore my dance partner, Kristoff…but what was he thinking?
Besides looking for inventive ways to get off, not much. That’s very clear.
In the snap of my fingers, any hope of achieving twenty years’ worth of dreams is gone. Goodbye, California Dance Star competition, which Kristoff and I were favored to win in eight days. Adios, any chance of making World Cup Latin finals—something I’ve been striving for my entire dance career.
Kristoff knows how important that is to me. I’m twenty-eight—old by ballroom standards. He’s the best partner I’ve ever had. This is our year; everyone says so. And I don’t know if my body can continue training at this pace anymore. This year might be my final chance to achieve everything I’ve strived for since childhood.
But that flash drive holds damning video footage recorded last week, according to the date in the lower right corner of the screen. It came with a scrawled note that cryptically read:
WATCH ME.
If I don’t fix this mess-and fast-I’ll never be a champion.
Sighing, I close my eyes, hold back my tears, and try to think. But everything on that video flashes through my head in full Technicolor. Kristoff, the tall and ungodly handsome Russian, stands above two figures, one male, the other female. He cradles each of their heads in his hands as they kneel before him. Their tongues slide up and down his erection, lick his balls, and occasionally meet at the head of his cock for a juicy kiss.
“You like that big dick?” he asks. They both moan. The camera zooms in as the woman, a stunning blonde with a starburst tattoo on her breast, deep-throats Kristoff.
The other male, a buff guy with military-short hair and his own raging hard-on, stands and licks Kristoff’s nipples. My dance partner groans, but the sound is soon drowned out when the other man begins devouring his lips in a harsh kiss.
That’s the first thirty seconds—plenty depraved by the deeply traditional standards many ballroom judges hold. Then comes the middle of the clip…
Kristoff, looking flushed and intent, penetrates the blonde, plunging in with one slow, agonizing stroke after the next. Seeing him enjoy a woman is a surprise. I thought he was strictly gay. Clearly, I was wrong. Not a problem.
Until the camera pans back, revealing the fact that, while Kristoff sinks into the blonde, the other man is shuttling into Kristoff’s ass, the forward momentum of his stroke pushing Kristoff deeper into the panting woman.
My breath catches. Heat creeps up my neck. I’m horrified to feel an unwanted tingling between my thighs. What is wrong with me? I don’t have time to be turned on by this. I have to catch this blackmailer and do whatever damage control I can before my dreams are dashed for good.
It isn’t even Kristoff or his lovers arousing me. But sex—hell, a man’s touch—is something I haven’t experienced in so long. I’ve been too busy practicing, giving my all to reach the pinnacle of my dreams. I’ve shoved my sex drive aside.
Now I’m feeling it.
As if the rest of Kristoff’s sex tape isn’t eye-popping enough, the end will undoubtedly crush my dreams of being a ballroom champion for good.
The man reaming Kristoff suddenly pulls free and tears off his condom, then scuttles around to hover over the supine woman’s pussy, frantically jerking his cock while Kristoff stands above her, gripping her thighs and slowly railing her. The man with dark hair watches them feverishly before throwing back his head and spraying semen over the woman’s wet mound. Collectively, the trio groans.