I got my start writing science fiction/military
romance and the sub-genres have always been near and dear to my heart. In my
opinion, there’s nothing sexier than a man or woman in uniform.
My Blown Away series is no exception, getting its
inspiration from the men and women who serve in EOD, explosive ordnance
disposal. It’s got sexy in spades.
I’m going to share some of my favorite “sexy” scenes
from the series.
Buy Links:
*Below scenes contain sexual situations and graphic language*
Blown
Away (#1)
The
door to the shower opened.
MacKay
turned, stared through the twisting steam, and found herself without breath.
There Boomer stood in his pajama bottoms, chest bare. Her heart raced, pounding
so hard against her ribs, she feared they may fracture.
“What
do you mean, don’t worry about them?” he demanded.
What
did she mean? She had to get the hell of here. No time for breakfast or further
mistakes.
“I’m
going home.” She closed her lids and tried to ignore him, hoping he’d get the
hint and shut the door.
“I thought you were staying the night?”
“I
have too much to do in the office tomorrow.” MacKay opened her eyes again and
did her best to pack her expression full of “we had a good time, now go away.”
But the longer she held his gaze, the more she wanted to stay and dig herself
deeper into trouble. Worse yet, something told her he wouldn’t back down.
He
didn’t say anything. As Boomer stepped into the shower, his PJ bottoms turned
translucent. The thin fabric clung to his body and accentuated every muscle he
possessed along with a hard cock she’d gotten more than familiar with through
the night. Her stomach fluttered, and a small gasp escaped her lips.
He
slid his hands along both sides of her face and backed her against the tile
wall, staring at her, hunger all over his face. “I warned you, I don’t do
one-night stands.” He lowered his mouth to hers. No, she wasn’t leaving any
time soon.
MacKay
ran her hands up his chest and around his neck. She should say no. She should
push him out of the shower, get dressed, and leave. Both of them needed to
forget this had even happened. And gods, he’d sounded serious about the
one-night stand thing. Perhaps she’d been mistaken, and it meant more to him.
She broke the kiss and leaned back. “Boomer, I’m—”
“Pushing
me away.” He leaned in and nipped her bottom lip, kissed the corner of her
mouth, and stroked his thumb along her jaw. “Not going to let you.”
“Boomer.”
He
pressed his lips to her ear and spoke in Odroxian. She’d no clue what he said,
but each word jolted through her body. Her heart slammed against her ribs,
racing. The man would undo her.
“Please.
This isn’t a good idea.”
“What
isn’t a good idea? Letting go? Living? Loving? Feeling something for someone?
The harder you push, the more I want to melt the slush moving through your
veins and take away the pain I see all over your face. You’ve been too long
inside the iron fortress you’ve erected. I’m going to knock those walls down
and show you it’s okay to let someone in.”
“I
can’t.” But even as she said it, the walls he promised to knock down cracked.
Her heart swelled, and breathing seemed impossible.
“I
don’t believe it. Because, when we made love, I saw a woman who could. Open up,
Alice. Let me in.”
“Don’t
call me—” He leaned in and kissed her silent. MacKay surrendered her soul. She
couldn’t deny the feelings growing inside her. She wanted him to knock down her
walls, hold her, make her feel human again. She couldn’t fight the need or the
hunger. Her hands slipped to his waistband and tugged the tie free. She pushed
the fabric off his hips, and the water-laden pajama bottoms dropped to the
tile.
Explosive Affairs (#2)
Happy trail:
That sexy little strip of hair running from
a man’s belly button to his—towel. Jenna stared at the fluffy white barrier
blocking her view from traveling any farther south. She’d enjoyed the scenic
route, visually devoured the hard ridges of his six-pack abs and the way the
water trickled over his flesh while it took the path of least resistance. She
shouldn’t stare. It was inappropriate to ogle the higher-ranking beefcake, but
she couldn’t stop. What woman in her right mind would be able to?
He
cleared his throat, and Jenna remembered her mission. She looked up. “Captain
Rivers….” Gods he could stop a stampede with his stare. Jenna dropped her focus
to something safer and began to examine the decking under his feet. Hard metal,
gray. Nothing special. “Sir, I….” She swallowed, and her gaze drifted up,
stopping on his midsection. He watched her, she could feel it, but Jenna
couldn’t manage to bring her eyes up to his, no matter how hard she tried. So,
she stared at his naked stomach, dying a little from embarrassment with each
passing second.
What
an uncomfortable predicament. She’d been ordered to find the explosives
ordnance officer, and find him she had. For the last fifteen minutes, Jenna had
searched the ship, from the galley to the indoor gym. The Gold Digger’s head
had been her last stop, and her timing couldn’t have been worse. Tyson Rivers,
the ordnance officer, had stepped out of the cleansing unit as she’d entered.
And
she’d run head on into him.
No
wonder he hadn’t been answering the com. The edge of the towel rode just under
his hips, dipping where he’d tucked it in. Jenna bit her lip. “Sir, I’ve been
sent—”
“I’m
up here.” A deep voice invaded her wet daydream.
Jenna
sighed. She could listen to him all day.
Oh gods!
She blinked. Up where? Her brain
connected the verbal dots. What he’d said sank into the mushy gray matter
between her ears, sending a jolt of horror rocketing through her body. Heat
rushed to her face, and she lifted her chin to address the subject of every
naughty dream she’d had on the ship since she’d boarded, and found herself
without a coherent thing to say. Jenna opened her mouth, and all that came out
was silence. What would be the
appropriate thing to say in this situation?
Nice towel?
“Do
you have a reason to be here, or do you make a habit of hanging out in the male
showers?”
Bomb
Voyage (#3) Coming soon!
Sam.
Any other Sam would be male and not a big pain in the ass. When Captain Jayson
Rivers requested a mechanic, the Trios Mechanic’s Union told him they’d send
the best. So naturally he hadn’t expected a redheaded solar storm—a one-woman,
wrecking force with freckles sprinkled over a cute little button nose. A woman
who diligently worked at dismantling his ship, making his much needed shower
impossible.
“Fuck!”
She flung a part from under the boiler. It rolled across the deck and hit the
toe of his boot.
Fuck?
Did her eloquent choice of words mean he wasn’t getting his shower today? Time
and patience weren’t on the agenda. He’d long since run out of both. “Is there
a problem?” Jayson clamped his teeth to keep from growling.
“Working
as fast as I can, sir,” her sweet voice called from under several tons of
rugged metal.
Deceptive,
her voice. The woman underneath might look compliant, but he’d quickly
discovered the opposite five minutes after she’d stepped her pretty ass onboard
his ship and handed him her bags like he was some kind of valet on a pleasure
cruiser. Bossy, yes. On her own schedule—most definitely. Stubborn—yeah.
Opinionated—when didn’t she have one? Bendable, flexible, compliant—hell no.
Hmm,
hmmm, hm, hm….
And not gifted with musical talent.
Jayson
braced for the inevitable. He knew what came next. She’d start to sing. Then
the howling would commence, followed by several hours of strangled versions of
what used to be some of his favorite songs. He’d endured enough. The woman had
put him to the test for last two hours, and he wouldn’t abide another minute.
“Rose!”
The
boiler room dropped into blessed silence. He sighed deep and leaned back
against the iron monster, which, if she’d done her job, would have heated the
water for the cleansing unit. Instead, if one jumped inside to wash up, they
were hit with icy blasts of mist, and though mist didn’t sound like a big
thing, when the temperature sat close to freezing, you didn’t want it anywhere
near your naked skin.
With
his ballistics officer and personal assistant away on their honeymoon, it didn’t
take Jayson long to sink up to his pits in ordnance and Jenna’s administrative
shit, doing the work of three people. Dealing with Tyson’s bomb inventory
turned out to be a dirty job, and by the end of the week, he couldn’t stand his
stench anymore. A good scrubbing was in order. Except he didn’t have any hot
water.
The
simple technology Sam tried to fix had existed for hundreds of years.
Primitive, but most the time it ran, and in the past, if it went down, it only
required a kick or two to bring it back online. The heating system had basic
engineering behind it. The boiler captured cold air and extracted heat from it.
Since the inside of the ship had live bodies, and the crew generated more heat
than space, no matter how cold the air outside the ship, the interior would
always be warmer. In addition, as long as the technology functioned normally, the
boiler could extract the warmth and multiply it.
Then,
if the piece of shit worked like it should, it would continue to recycle the
air, drawing heat from it until the water in the boiler turned scalding hot.
Man created the heat, the machine harvested it—simple enough technology.
So
why couldn’t she get the blasted thing to run? Jayson resisted abusing it more,
not sure the toe of his boot could handle it, but damn, any time now would be
good. He’d lived with the smell of his own funk and ice-cold sponge baths for
four days now. He refused to go another day. Hence the reason he didn’t want to
leave engine room, or at least that’s what he told himself.
Hmmm,
hummmn, hum, hummmmmm.
Jayson
growled. Pretty soon she’d be in concert. He clamped his hands over his ears
and not a second too soon.
“Baby,
ooooh babbbbbeeee…oooooooooo babeeeeeeeeeeyyyyyyy.”
Didn’t she ever lose her voice?
Jayson
cringed as the last high note shot up his spine—pretty damn sure it hit about
five octaves too high on the musical scale. At least, if he remembered his
songs correctly, it did—but he could be wrong.
Jayson
tipped his head side to side, cracking his neck. Before the tall redhead had arrived
on his ship, he hadn’t thought anyone could sing that bad, the kind of awful which
cracked glass, made dogs howl and small children cry. Hell, it could bring a
grown man to tears.
“Come
over hereeeeeeeeee! Woooo, woooo hooooo.”
And
then he’d met her. “Gods damn it, Rose! Enough.”
“Oooo,
oooo, ooooo, oh.”
But
she didn’t seem to hear him, or maybe she’d rendered herself deaf? Jayson
looked down. Her boots poked out from under the heating system, and her toes
tapped in cadence with whatever song she butchered and he tried his hardest to
ignore. Attached to the boots was a pair of incredible long legs and a body which
shouldn’t belong to a grease monkey. Ever since he saw those stilts, all he
could think about was how they’d feel wrapped around him while he pounded into
her.
“Did
you want something, sir?” That sweet voice again. Yeah, she’d heard him all right.
“Work
faster.” He shifted on his feet, trying to focus on something other than the
bane of his existence and forbidden fruit. A captain didn’t touch his
subordinates. He didn’t dream about them night and day, no matter how bad they
sang, and he sure as hell didn’t get hard every time they passed him in the
corridor and gave him a smile.
“Do
you want me to work faster, or do you want it done right, sir?”
“I
want to get into the cleansing unit sometime this week, and since this is the
end of the week, today.”
“I’m
not stopping you, sir.”
“I’m
not taking a cold shower.” Though her suggestion did have merit, and the longer
he stood there staring at her bare legs, the more sense it made.
“Then
you’ll have to wait, because this exchanger isn’t going to fix itself, and
doing it right takes time—even if it’s the end of the week.” She rolled from
under the boiler and smiled up at him. “Captain Rivers, sir.”
Damn,
the way she said his name always sounded like an invitation to go to bed—and a
hell of a lot easier on the ears than her singing. Come to think of it, maybe that’s
why it sounded so good. After hours of the other…. No, he swore sometimes she said
his name with a sexy purr to get the effect she got. He turned slightly, so she
wouldn’t see that part of his body,
eager to find out if she had.
Collateral Lives (#4) Unedited - Work
in Progress.
And
oh the many ways he could make her pay. Who thought EOD training would include
long distance running, which he claimed would build her endurance, enabling her
to work on planets with a weak atmosphere, or strong gravity. And then there
was the martial arts, bruised backsides and bloody lips and noses. Avery took
it to the extreme and gave her the same treatment her enemy would, or so he
claimed, since EOD was considered a primary target for anyone who didn’t want
their bomb disarmed. And her favorite new skill—telepathy, designed to make her
insane.
It won’t make you insane if you
learn how to use it, and the only way you’re going to learn, is to use it.
Oh, you read thoughts too. Swell.
How come I didn’t see it in the “welcome to hell, brochure?”
I don’t have to read your thoughts,
when you project them at me. Conversation—over. Focus.
Aye, sir. Crushing
pressure filled her head and she rolled to her hands and knees, using all her
willpower to avoid crying out. Okay, she shouldn’t have pushed. Sometimes her
mouth—brain, ran away from her.
Get up.
Trouble
climbed to her feet and braced her hands on her knees, doing her best to catch
her breath.
“Put
up your guard.”
Back
to verbal commands. Fantastic. What
was it he said? When he started talking it was time for her to shut up and do
what he told her? Prick. She lifted
her chin and glared at the bane of her existence. He caught her with a
roundhouse kick to her jaw, sending her flying back to the hard floor with a
loud oomph. Trouble blinked and stared at the ceiling, stunned, with little stars
circling her head. The room did the wave and she blinked again, bringing it
back into focus. Ouch. She reached up
and rubbed her jaw. Another bruise to go with the three dozen he’d already
given her. Good thing she already had purple skin. Bastard.
She
turned her head and Avery lay flat on his back, staring at the ceiling as she
had been, also rubbing his jaw. Not
without cost. Every lesson was a lesson for Avery too. Trouble smiled.
Served him right. Maybe she should punch herself in the lip.
“How’d
that feel, big guy?”
“Wonderful.”
He drew his knees to his chest and snapped to his feet. Avery cocked his head from
side-to-side, cracking his neck. To look at him, one wouldn’t even know he’d
been down and stunned moments before. “Get up.”
“Can
we give it a break and practice basket weaving or something?”
“Get
up.”
Trouble
climbed to her feet. “I hate you.”
“Okay.
Now put some of it into your attack and quit being a sissy.”
“First,
tell me why we have to be linked if it makes us so vulnerable?”
He
smiled and shook his head. Don’t you get
it? It’s the League’s way of ensuring our cooperation. You’re linked to me
because of your crime—running. I’m linked to you because of my crime—mutiny.
They designed our punishment to fit the offense. You can’t run no matter how
bad you want, and if I don’t keep you alive and under control, the orders
handed down to me, I die. So suck it up princess and put your guard up. This is
going to hurt me as much as it does you.
“You’re
an asshole.” She didn’t care. Let him squeeze her brains. He got the same dose
and after two weeks of this, she’d had enough of him telling her what she could
say or think.
Wumpf!
Her shoulders hit the mat before it registered in her brain Avery had struck. He
landed in her guard, his torso pinning her to the floor and the inside of her
thighs pressed against the outside of his. The rising and falling of his chest,
matched the rhythm of her pulse. Face-to-face they stared at one another, so
close she could taste the mint on his breath and feel warm heat on her lips.
“An
asshole, you say.” He’d grabbed her wrists and yanked them over her head. “You haven’t
seen my bad side yet. I said to focus.”
“You
didn’t give me a chance to put my guard up.” She glared up into his stormy
depths, daring him to deny it. Her belly fluttered.
“Do
you think someone trying to kill you will give you the courtesy? We train for
the real deal, Devoe. You weren’t paying attention or you wouldn’t be where you
are.” Heat filled his eyes, kindling something wicked inside her.
His
weight pressed against her in all the right places. Little tingles moved
through her body, chasing their way through her blood. Even if he’d ordered
her, she’d found it impossible to focus, nearly as difficult to breathe. She
could care less he was a major prick, she’d wanted him, naked and inside her.
He
cocked a brow and tightened his grip on her wrists. “You going to lie there all
day, or are you going to break out of this hold?”
Trouble
did her best to hook one of his ankles, but he moved his foot back and pressed
more of his weight down on her. He didn’t try to hide his erection. The hard
bulge sat against her clit, and even through their clothing she could feel the
heat of his flesh.
His
eyes glittered, and hunger blanketed his face. Trouble licked her lips, staring
at his mouth. Needing. She’d curled her hands into fists, fighting the desire to
both pummel and fuck him. Kiss me. He
wanted her, or she wouldn’t be feeling this. I’m turned on—you’re turned on. His words echoed through her head
as she stared back, waiting for the inevitable.
An
odd look crossed his face and his grip eased. Avery backed off, grabbed her
ankles flipping her to her belly. He dropped back down on her, pinning her face
first to the floor, leaning in and pressing his mouth against her ear. “You
want something.”
“Yes.
For you to get off!”
“You
want me off, remove me.”
Give Away!
I have a signed print copy of Blown Away (#1) and a 1/4 pound box of Ye Goode Shoppe chocolate covered orange creams to give away to one lucky commenter on the post. Don't forget, the more you comment, the better chance you have of walking away with the pretty red Kindle.
Good luck,
D. L. Jackson
