SHE’S HOLDING ON TIGHT.
As a teen, Dawn ran from a life on the streets straight into the arms of Jimmy “Mad Dog” Sanchez, a biker who promised to be her knight in shining armor. But his love was just another cage. Years later, Dawn’s former life still has its hooks in her and she’ll do whatever it takes to break free. When Cade “Ryder” O’Connor, a member of a rival club, makes her an offer, Dawn finds herself in a different, hotter kind of trouble with one irresistible Sinner…
WILL HE GIVE HER THE RIDE OF HER LIFE?
Cade is an outlaw biker with allegiance to one thing and one thing only: The Sinner’s Tribe Motorcycle Club. But when it comes to the stunningly sexy, fiercely independent Dawn Delgado, Cade finds himself…hungrier for more. Trouble is on Dawn’s heels and he wants to be the answer to her prayers, whether she wants him to be or not. What can’t be denied is the red-hot attraction between them. However, as they fall deeper, the danger rises and Cade may have to sacrifice it all…in Beyond the Cutby New York Times bestselling author Sarah Castille.
Meet Cade & Dawn in Beyond the Cut!
The newest addition to the Sinner’s Tribe Motorcycle Club Series is NOW LIVE!
Amazon US: http://amzn.to/1PJi4uH
Amazon UK: http://amzn.to/1Q7GSHt
Barnes & Noble: http://bit.ly/1LAC0cz
**Please choose one excerpt**
“We never danced before,” she said softly. Her breath was sweet, citrusy, and he was tempted to lick that sugar from her lips, but uncertainty held him back.
“We never did a whole lot of anything before except fuck.” Exactly what he wanted to do now. And afterward, maybe they could talk, or do what couples did, although never having really been part of a couple, he didn’t know what that would be. Watch TV? Go for a ride? Fuck some more?
“Maybe that’s ’cause that’s all we’re good for together.”
That gave him pause. Yes, he enjoyed sex with Dawn, but he genuinely liked her. She was smart, sweet, sensitive, and funny. She had more grit and determination than anyone he’d met, working three jobs, putting up with Shelly-Ann, never giving up hope she’d get her girls back. He wanted to spend more time with her, but she was always running away.
“Well, we gotta have something together, because now you’re wearing my cut and there’s no turning back.” He brushed his fingers through her beautiful long, blond hair. They had that in common. But Dawn was soft, where he was hard. Curved where he was straight. Sweet where he was bitter.
“If you’d told me three weeks ago I’d be in a biker bar, dancing with a biker and wearing a cut, I’d never have believed you. This was the last thing I ever thought I wanted. Me. A biker’s old lady again.”
His old lady. He liked the sound of it. He liked watching the words on her lips, tumbling over the silky softness and into his heart. Three weeks ago, sitting in his booth at Peelers with Delilah in his lap, he never would have believed he’d have an old lady. “Say it again.”
She licked her lips, and the sight of her little pink tongue made him hard.
“My old lady. Say it.”
Dawn studied him for a minute, considering. “Yours.” She leaned up and kissed him and he lost the last threads of his control.
**Additional excerpts (previously released)**
Use if needed
“You don’t go out without me. You do not go to see male strippers. You don’t see other men. No clubs. No dates. No drinking. No Benson.” Cade barked out each rule as he mounted the stairs leading up to his room. The chandelier overhead rattled with each step he took, but upside down, over his shoulder, the only thing Dawn was in a position to appreciate was the worn wooden floor, and Cade’s very fine, tight ass.
He pushed open the door to his room, and then slammed it closed and dropped her lightly to the ground. “You answer the phone when I call or text. You don’t hang with the brothers dressed in the kind of dress a man wants to tear off you.”
Dawn gripped the door handle to regain her balance as Cade stalked across the floor to the window. The room pulsated with the intensity of his emotion, or maybe something was alive beneath the piles of clothes, pizza boxes, bike gear, and magazines. At least it didn’t smell as bad as it looked, just a tad . . . fetid, but laced with the fragrance of his cologne.
“Don’t you think you’re taking this too far? I mean, Jimmy’s not about to grab me from a bar or a club. At heart he’s a coward. That’s why he’s always approached me in the dark or from a distance.”
“This isn’t about him.” His puzzled frown almost made her laugh. “You’re mine.”
“I’m not yours.” Dawn folded her arms. “But since we’re laying it on the line, and if you’re wanting me to stick around, I have terms, too. You don’t go to strip clubs, even for a drink. Nor do you let sweet butts wriggle in your lap. You don’t flirt with women or bring them back to the clubhouse. You’re a one-woman man unless you want a woman who isn’t me, and then I walk out this door.”
Tension coiled in the room between them. He stared at her for so long she was afraid she’d crossed some hidden line and nothing would ever be the same again.
“I guess now that we have that straight, I’ll take care of those cuts and bruises,” she said to fill the silence. “You got a first-aid kit in here?” Her gaze swept over the room, bare of any decoration save for the detritus, a gritty contrast with the huge four-poster king-sized bed and heavy dark wood furniture, remnants from the days before the country house had become the Sinner clubhouse.
Cade scowled. “I’m not finished saying my piece.”
Dawn wasn’t sure she wanted to hear the rest of his “piece” if it involved any more one-sided rules and restrictions. She studied the room again for any sign of first-aid equipment, trying not to look at all the empty condom boxes or the shiny wrappers strewn across the floor or think about what they meant.
“I got something else to say.” Cade’s voice held an uncharacteristically sharp edge. “What are you looking at?”
Her cheeks heated and she scrambled for words. “Lots of . . . pizza boxes. What kind of pizza do you like?”
“I don’t know that much about you. What kind of pizza do you like?”
She let out an exasperated sigh. “Can you be more specific? Pepperoni, sausage, ham, bacon—?”
“Just meat. Lots of it.” His brow creased. “You?”
“I’m kinda into veggies. Not that I don’t occasionally indulge in a Slim Fred’s Meat Feast when I’m hanging with Banks at his place watching the fights, but usually I like to keep it healthy.”
He lifted an eyebrow. “What else you want to know?”
Hmmm. A rare insight into Cade and what made him tick. She wanted to know everything, but from the way he was looking at her—focused, intent, like a predator sizing up its prey—she would have to be judicious with her questions. “Music.”
“Mostly ’seventies legends like Bob Seger, Lynyrd Skynyrd, and the Allman Brothers and hard-rock bands like W.A.S.P. and Great White.”
“Typical of a biker and not very revealing.” Dawn sighed. “I don’t suppose you harbor a secret love for Justin Bieber or Taylor Swift?”
Cade’s nose wrinkled. “Girl crap. Don’t listen to it.”
“I like ‘girl crap,’ as you call it. I also like jazz.”
“That’s ’cause you’re a girl.”
“I’m a woman.” She lifted an eyebrow in censure and he gave her a smoldering, sensual look that made her instantly wet.
“That I fucking know. And ’cause of that, there’s no hanging out with Banks, ’cause he knows that, too.” He crossed the floor toward her, eating up the distance between them with easy strides of his long legs. “You want to listen to girl crap and hang out and eat pizza, you do it with me. And forget the veg. How are you gonna keep those curves if you’re just eating green shit?”
He was so close now she could feel the heat radiating off his body, breathe in his scent of leather, crisp spring air, and the sharp odor of blood. “You like my curves?”
“Love your curves, babe. Couldn’t have made it through that fucking ambush if I didn’t have these curves to think about.”
“Dawn, babe. You are so beautiful you could make a priest sin.”
“Good thing then I already have a Sinner.”
When his palm cupped the smooth perfection of her breast, and his thumb brushed gently over her taut, rosy nipple, he couldn’t hold back. With a groan, he eased her back on the desk, wrapping her legs around his hips.
“Touch me,” she whispered.
“What my old lady wants, my old lady gets.” He smoothed his hands along her inner thighs, his fingers brushing over the lace tops of her stockings and along the garter elastics, until he reached her lace panties. She liked lace. He remembered tearing lace panties off her before, the soft rend of material as erotic a sound as her whimper when he stroked her wet pussy.
“More, Cade. Don’t tease.”
His body shook like it was his first time, like he had at the age of fourteen when he discovered he could lose himself in a woman’s embrace and the shouting and crying and screaming he heard at home would fade away beneath moans and whimpers of desire. He couldn’t stop the pain, but at least he could give pleasure.
He cupped her breast in his hand, tugging down her bra to take her nipple in his mouth.
“Oh God.” Dawn arched off the desk, offering him more. Her hands slid over his chest, sending wave after wave of heat down to his cock. Unable to stop himself, he ground his erection against the curve of her sex until he was on the verge of spilling himself like a teenage boy.
Her hips rocked against him, her heels digging into his back. With her head thrown back, her hair spread around her in a golden wave, she was a goddess, devastatingly beautiful, irresistibly wanton . . . and his.
Mine. Overwhelmed with a need to claim her, he grasped the edge of her panties and eased them over her hips, sliding them over her lean legs and off. Too pretty to tear away.
He heard her gasp, and if he hadn’t been so wound up, he would have savored her, licked the salty sweetness from her skin, and teased her nipples until she writhed beneath him. But that was for another time. Another place. A night when they weren’t the guests of honor at their own party and everyone would be wondering where they were. Now was about sex. Rough and raw. Pure and primal. Now was about making her truly his.
“Are you wet for me, babe?” His hand dropped to his belt and he worked at the buckle.
“Are you hot?” The buckle gave way and he tore open his fly.
“Legs on my shoulders.” He pulled a condom from his pocket and ripped it open with his teeth, then sheathed himself as she positioned herself, calves on his shoulders, her glistening pussy wet and inviting.
“Now,” she demanded.
He entered her with one hard thrust, his hands around her thighs, holding her in place. Dawn arched against him, rocked into his rhythm, her hands clenched tight on the lip of the desk.
“God, you feel so good.”
The desk squeaked across the floor as he hammered into her. When he felt the little quivers in her sex that told him she was close, he traced his thumb over her clit, spreading her moisture up and around until her legs tightened around him and her heels dug into his freshly dressed wound. Pleasure-pain suffused his body and he felt a familiar pressure at the base of his spine.
The doorknob rattled and Cade froze. “Jesus. Fucking. Christ. Not again. Someone’s gonna die.”
“Hey you two,” Tank yelled. “Come outta there and join the party, or else we’re coming in.”
Cade heard laughter and the sound of voices. His cock throbbed so painfully his eyes watered. “Fuck off.”
“Maybe we should . . .”
He thrust deep and Dawn’s back arched. “Oh God. So close. Make them go away.”
“Pleasure.” Cade reached across the desk for his gun. Sex with his old lady was serious business. Not to be disturbed. Especially when he was so damn close he had to grit his teeth against the pain.
“No. I didn’t mean—”
He fired at the door, aiming his shots at the ceiling. A woman screamed. The brothers gathered outside the door roared with laughter.
“Catch you at a bad time, brother?” Sparky shouted. “We need to know if you’re fighting at the next fight.”
“This is worse than a civilian wedding,” Dawn muttered. “Although we’re supposed to be in a fancy hotel room when we’re hazed.”
Cade placed the gun on the table beside her. “My woman doesn’t get interrupted when she’s about to come.”
“That’s sweet, in a terrifying-ruthless-biker-I’ll-be-totally-humiliated-when-we-walk-out of-here kinda way.”
“Fucking me is not humiliating. Most of the girls out there would die to take your place.”
Dawn glanced from side to side, taking in the dingy room, and then laughed. “First of all, I am reassured that you do not suffer from a lack of self-confidence. Second, how about you get on with the program. Since they all now know what we’re up to, we might as well enjoy it so I can lord it over all those girls who are dying to take my place. And third, if you do any more shooting, someone probably will die.”
The Sinner’s Tribe Motorcycle Club Series
Rough Justice (Book One)
Amazon US: http://amzn.to/1JShtlC
Amazon UK: http://amzn.to/1Q7GYPA
Barnes & Noble: http://bit.ly/1PJiwJi
Beyond the Cut (Book Two)
Amazon US: http://amzn.to/1PJi4uH
Amazon UK: http://amzn.to/1Q7GSHt
Barnes & Noble: http://bit.ly/1LAC0cz
About the Author:
New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Sarah Castille worked and travelled abroad before trading her briefcase and stilettos for a handful of magic beans and a home near the Canadian Rockies. She writes contemporary erotic romance and romantic suspense featuring blazingly hot alpha heroes and the women who tame them. Her books include the bestselling “Redemption” fighter romance series, and the dark, gritty Sinner’s Tribe Motorcycle Club romance series.
$25 Gift Card (Winner’s choice of book retailer)
Share Link: http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/share-code/MDk5NjRmMDM5ZDM4YTBjYWM0YzAyYzM0NGI2ODRhOjY4NQ==/?