I Want to Touch You #MFRWsteam #BlopHop

Hello Everyone. I’m glad to be back for my second Marketing for Romance Writers STEAM Blog hop. All writers on this hop write steamy romances and will be sharing excerpts from the books. You can reach them in the link provided at the bottom of this post.

I will be sharing an excerpt from my newly released erotic romance The Scent of Memory, Green Rising Book 2.

Blurb

Twelve years ago, Marisol lost Aren. Now he’s back – pointing a gun at her head and treating her like a stranger.

Rebel hacker, Marisol Martinez, never thought volunteering to keep the hospital safe from cyborgs would lead her back to the man sabotage ripped from her arms. The man she swore to avenge by any means possible.

For over a decade, Cap protected the cyborgs under his command from every danger. Until he meets an insurgent, whose scent wreaks havoc on his control. She calls him Aren and insists she knows him. But she’s wrong. He has no past, no present, no future – only orders he’s programmed to complete.

Forced together, Marisol and Cap can’t resist the passion that keeps building between them.  With time running out, Marisol must use her computer skills to restore Aren’s memories or Cap will kill all subversives on the planet – starting with her.

Excerpt

Sexually Explicit Content For People 18+

In the excerpt, Marisol sees Aren naked for the first time. She wants to make love to him, but she also hopes it will help him remember her. Marisol speaks the first line in the excerpt.

“Can I give you pleasure?”

He nodded, unzipped his pants, and pulled his very erect dick out.

“Take off your clothes.”

“It is not necessary for release.”

“It is for pleasure.”

“I no longer look human.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

He looked confused.

“I want to touch you, who you are now.”

He gave a curt nod, then shed his clothes. Marisol bit her lip to keep from crying. Whoever designed cyborgs didn’t give a fuck about appearances. His entire left side shined black metal. The maker didn’t even fake human arms or legs. The fusing of the metal to the skin caused sloppy, puckered scars that mottled his skin like a disease. His right side, the so-called human half, woven with scars, looked like the results of the meatball surgery after the accident. Holding air in her lungs until she could only focus on its burn, she let it out slowly, gaining control and giving her the presence of mind to get nearer.

She traced her fingers along the crevices where skin met metal, then along the mushy scar tissues. This is Aren, she repeated to herself. Gone was the narrow belly of the distracted artist who forgot to eat, replaced by muscles and metal of the cyborg soldier. He had only one male nipple, the other half now cold steel. Her finger circled the flesh aureola. When Aren gasped, she flicked it with her tongue. Her fingers trailed along his flesh. She relished the low moans vibrating through his chest.

“Is this giving pleasure?” Aren shuddered.

“Mmmm,” she whispered against his skin before lapping up his chest to nuzzle his neck. She nipped her way to his lips, drowning herself in the salt of Aren’s taste and scent. On his neck, on his lips, she found Aren’s savory musk. She grabbed at it, swallowed it whole as she snaked her hands around his neck. She kissed him deeply, desperate to force herself back into Aren’s consciousness any way she could. Pressing close, the metal edges tore at her flesh. The pain a trophy celebrating that she’d gotten this far.

She walked him toward the cots in the back of the large room. Still locked together, she managed to get him on the bed. Desperate to touch, taste, and smell every inch of him, to physically inhale him—discover the old and the new. Reluctantly breaking off the kiss, she lost herself in those cobalt eyes that had always been her salvation, ignoring the truth that one of those eyes was now darker than the other..

She dragged her hands gently down his human skin, along his arm, torso, and leg. Aren’s expression turned to awe. She played with his belly button. Ran her finger straight down to now taut balls. Where wiry black hair once had been, only stubbly shadow remained that scratched the soft flesh of her fingertips. She kissed it in memory of what had been, then welcomed the new eau de Aren—musk and metal, kindness and killer. Then she revisited the pallet-shaped birthmark discoloring his right hip. He wore it proudly, believing it the universe’s message that was meant to be an artist. She worshipped it with her lips and fingers as she always had, grateful he retained it. Unable to resist anymore, she took his cock in her hand and licked across his brownish tip. She swallowed the drop of cum before playing with the nick that had always been there. Aren’s groan filled the air. Her body danced in response to a favorite song after years of silence.

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