Today we are happy to have bestselling author L.A Witt stopping by Love Bytes to show us an exclusive (very sexy) excerpt of her new release “If The Seas Catch Fire”.

Lori also brought along a wonderful giveaway so make sure to leave a comment to enter!

Welcome Lori 🙂

Sergei gritted his teeth. On the other hand, Domenico was offering five Gs for a fifteen minute private dance. Sergei hardly needed the money, but if this guy was willing to cough up that much, Sergei couldn’t help but be intrigued. If Domenico was here to ask Sergei to take somebody out, he’d have even more in his pocket. And if he’d come for the money Sergei had taken earlier…

Keeping his nerves beneath the surface, he asked, “You got the cash?”

Domenico held up the wad of hundreds.

Sergei forced himself not to scowl as he plucked the money from the man’s hand. “Looks like you’re the lucky winner.”

Domenico shivered. That was odd—the Mafiosos were strictly business when they came in here. They’d pay a fortune for a dance that wasn’t really a dance, and if anything, curled their lips at the strippers and clientele.

And suddenly Sergei was fighting a grin instead of a scowl. Maybe he’d been right about Domenico after all. Those little glances. The nerves.

He led Domenico to one of the private booths in the back. Roy the bouncer met his eyes, and Sergei gave him a nod. Code for “Don’t worry, I’ve got this.” He’d stay close enough to intervene if shit went down, but otherwise he’d keep his back turned and watch the other guys giving their dances. Then he’d get a cut of whatever Sergei made from the against-club-policy activities he’d turned a blind eye to. He got fifty bucks for ignoring a blowjob that never happened, and Sergei got a shitload more than that for taking whatever contract was offered to him in hushed tones behind a curtain.

Or maybe, unlike all his other brethren who came in here with wads of cash, Domenico really wanted a lap dance.

Sergei pulled the curtain across, and didn’t quite know why his heart was beating so fast as he turned to face Domenico.

The Italian unbuttoned his jacket and lowered himself into the crimson armchair. Most guys flopped down on the cushion and waited like a drooling dog for the show to get started. Not this guy. Arrogant Mafioso, royalty in name only, he sat like an overlord taking his throne instead of a sleazy asshole panting for dick in a chair where a thousand men before him had blown their loads.

The music came on.

Sergei assumed his usual provocative stance, standing close enough to fuck with his mind and pulse while he ran his hands up and down his own sides. Here’s the goods. You like what you see?

“So.” Sergei gazed down at him. “You want more information, I assume.”

“Not this time.” Domenico met his eyes, and he grinned, knowingly and dangerously. “This time I want a dance.”

That was… unexpected. This was the moment when his contacts usually started speaking in code, and “a dance” wasn’t part of that code.

Sergei ran the tip of his tongue across his lip. “Just a dance?”

“Yes.” The long, lingering down-up Domenico gave him, his breath hitching here and there, raised goose bumps on Sergei’s mostly exposed flesh. When their eyes met again, Domenico spoke just loud enough for Sergei to hear him over the music, “I suspect with you involved, there’s no such thing as just a dance.”

Apparently he wasn’t here in any official capacity. And maybe he’d given up on his pursuit of more details about the night they’d met. Sergei would certainly keep his guard up, but if Domenico wanted a dance…

Sergei stripped down to his G-string, watching Domenico’s eyes widen. He swore he could feel the man’s pulse rising, especially when Sergei stepped closer and slid a knee between his thighs. Domenico parted them farther, and his fingers curled over the edges of the armrests. Maybe the arrogant overlord…wasn’t. Eyes wide and spine stiff, knuckles turning white, he suddenly seemed in over his head.

“You ever had a dance like this?”

He gulped, and a flicker of something—nerves?—broke the rest of the calm and cool façade. Slowly, he shook his head.

“Rules are simple.” Sergei climbed onto his lap, sliding his hands over broad shoulders. “I dance. You don’t move. Don’t touch me. Got it?”

His eyes were fixed on Sergei’s abs, and as he nodded, he whispered, “Yeah.” He looked Sergei up and down. “My God…”

“Why did you come back?”

“I had to.” Domenico’s voice was just loud enough to be heard. “I can’t…” His gaze drifted up and down Sergei’s torso. “Can’t stop thinking about you.”

Sergei swallowed. Gay wise guys weren’t unheard of, but they didn’t last long.

“What’s your name?” Domenico asked again.

Sergei shook his head. “It’s not important.”

“Isn’t it?”

“No.”

“Do I ever get to know what it is?”

“Why do you need to know my name?” Sergei turned around and leaned back against him, pressing his ass against an incredibly hard cock and his shoulders against Domenico’s broad chest. “My name isn’t relevant. You don’t know what it is, but I’m still turning you on, aren’t I?”

“Yes. Yes, you are.” The man’s breath tickled the side of Sergei’s neck.

Sergei lifted himself up and faced Domenico again, settling onto his lap as he added, “That’s all you need to know, isn’t it?”

“I don’t need to know anything. I want to know.” He slowly ran his tongue across his lips. “Just like I want to know what it feels like to…” He trailed off, gazing drifting over Sergei’s body, and if Sergei had been able to breathe—what the fuck is going on?—he’d have asked him to finish his sentence.

Dance. You’re here to dance.

Sergei ground against him, and the firm ridge of Domenico’s cock beneath his balls made his pulse soar. And not only that, it made him hard. Sergei often got into it when he was dancing, and sometimes if a guy was particularly hot, he even got a little turned on.

But not like this.

Domenico’s eyes flicked downward, and he gulped. “That… that G-string isn’t quite big enough for you.”

Sergei glanced down. “Isn’t when I’m like this.” And he was rarely like this when he danced. Fuck.

“Maybe you should take it off.”

“Can’t take everything off,” he murmured. “The… the law.”

Domenico’s eyes flicked up and met his, burning with lust. “You think I’m gonna report you?”

Sergei glanced back at the curtain. Then he stood and shimmied out of the G-string.

There was something deliciously dangerous and irresistibly sexy about this. Though a G-string hardly counted as clothing, losing it left him feeling like he’d just thrown off ten protective layers. Like he’d gone from fully-dressed to naked in just a few beats, and now he was against Domenico, cock and balls rubbing against the soft silk of his shirt and tie.

“You’re breaking the rules,” Domenico breathed, and Sergei swore he could hear his heartbeat in his voice. “Does that mean I can too?”

For five thousand dollars and that look in your eye? You can do any damned thing you want.

“I don’t think you want to break the rules.” He wrapped his arms around Domenico’s neck, pressing his dick against the man’s chest and bringing his abs close enough to Domenico’s face to feel his breath. “You like looking without touching.” He slowly fucked against him, his own head spinning as the smooth silk turned his nerve endings to pure electricity. “Don’t you?”

Domenico exhaled hard, the warm air whispering across Sergei’s abs and making him gasp. “I want… I want to touch you.”

“I know you do.” Sergei leaned forward enough to murmur in his ear, “But this turns you on. Doesn’t it?”

Domenico shivered beneath him. “Everything about you turns me on.”

*****

 

Sergei Andronikov was a child when the Mafia wiped out his family, leaving him with nothing but a hunger for revenge. Years later, through ruthless strategy and tireless patience, he’s a contract killer working for the three families ruling Cape Swan… and he’s nearly in position to bring them all down from the inside.

Domenico “Dom” Maisano is Mafia royalty, a made man… and a hitman. He’s caught up in a violent life he can’t escape, struggling to maintain an image he doesn’t want, and suppressing desires he can’t have.

A chance encounter throws the killers into each other’s paths. Though Dom knows he’s playing a dangerous game, he’s intrigued and keeps coming back. Sergei can’t resist him either—Dom is everything he set out to destroy, but he’s also everything he’s ever ached for in a man.

Then Sergei gets the contract he’s been waiting for—the hit that promises to bring the town’s Mafia to its knees.

But when a boss makes an unexpected move, Sergei must choose between dropping the hammer on the families he vowed to annihilate, and protecting the man he swore he wouldn’t love.

And the wrong choice—or even the right one—will destroy them both.

Buy Link:

If The Seas Catch Fire is available on Amazon.

L.A. Witt is an abnormal M/M romance writer who has finally been released from the purgatorial corn maze of Omaha, Nebraska, and now spends her time on the southwestern coast of Spain. In between wondering how she didn’t lose her mind in Omaha, she explores the country with her husband, several clairvoyant hamsters, and an ever-growing herd of rabid plot bunnies. She also has substantially more time on her hands these days, as she has recruited a small army of mercenaries to search South America for her nemesis, romance author Lauren Gallagher, but don’t tell Lauren. And definitely don’t tell Lori A. Witt or Ann Gallagher. Neither of those twits can keep their mouths shut…

Website: www.gallagherwitt.com

Email: gallagherwitt@gmail.com

Twitter: @GallagherWitt

Lori/ L.A brought along two backlist copies for two lucky winners !

leave a comment to enter , Good Luck!