Today, MRN is spotlighting a new release from LaQuette, who you all know is one of my faves — you know the authors who could release just about anything and you’d one-click it before I even reading the blurb…yeah she’s that kinda fave!
Bedding the Enemy is part of the Breaking Bad: 14 Tales of Lawless Love box set which is now LIVE on Amazon.
Nice guys finish first, said no one ever. But we guarantee you’ll finish this collection filled with dark and dangerous alphas who obey no one, play by their own rules, and least of all allow anything to come between them and what they desire most. You’ll never look at thieves, hit men, bounty hunters or ex-cons the same way again. Break bad and our sexy-as-sin bad boys will steal your heart.
Bedding The Enemy
Genre: Erotic, Interracial Romance
While bedding the enemy, lust, and lies became their addiction and love… a complicated distraction they can’t afford.
Masaki Yamaguchi has lived by one rule: Bend the world to your will, and break those that refuse to comply. This motto has served him well as the head of the Yakuza family in Canarsie, Brooklyn. However, when he meets a soulful, dread-locked beauty from Brownsville with her own set of rules, things aren’t as clear, or easy as they used to be.
Oshun Sampson has worked hard to clean up her beloved Brownsville, Brooklyn. She’s sacrificed everything, including her own happiness, for the cause. She’ll be damned if she allows anyone the chance to destroy the progress she and her community have made. With the looming threat of the Canarsie Yakuza family closing in, the sexy new patron with the captivating eyes is a dangerous distraction she can’t afford.
Two powerful leaders with one distinct line drawn between them. Will their passion be enough to hold them together? Or, will bedding the enemy result in a bloody war that tears them and their communities apart?
(18 + Reader discretion advised)
She’d been ducking him since the fire. That was a week ago. A week of gaining access to government databases and sorting through all the information she’d procured, yet she still didn’t have a definitive answer. Was Masaki involved with the Yakuza, or wasn’t he?
Nothing in the documents presented a clear picture. Nothing definitively said, “Yes, I belong to an evil, criminal organization that is trying to destroy your community.”
Determined to find what she was looking for, she delved back into the data on her screen, scouring it once again in hopes of either vindicating Masaki, or convicting him. This middle ground filled with uncertainty and doubt was an uncomfortable place she refused to dwell.
If Masaki were mixed up in the Yakuza, he’d go down with them. It wasn’t a choice she wanted to have to make. In fact, she desperately wanted this all to be some crazy misunderstanding.
Though she’d never admit it to him, Masaki had become someone important to her. He wasn’t just a fuckboy she’d picked up at the club. The truth was, even though that’s what she’d told herself all the time, she’d been in denial about how strongly she felt for the man. She’d allowed herself to believe her only interest in him was the sex. The way her heart leaped when he’d asked her to move in completely destroyed any idea that their connection was only about their sex. Your heart didn’t dance when an insignificant fuck buddy asked you to commit.
Sadness filled her as she pondered what all the latest developments meant for them. She’d known soon enough she would have to walk away. Masaki giving her keys to his place, asking her to move in, was the beginning of the end for them. But, even though she’d sensed the end approaching, she hadn’t thought she might have to bring harm to Masaki if they went their separate ways. A connection with the Yakuza meant there’d be no amicable parting. This would mean war, and war was always bloody.
A loud banging on the door made her jump to her feet and focus her attention toward the foyer. The sound repeated itself, making her reflexes kick into overdrive. She reached into the drawer of her desk to remove her pistol. She cocked it and flipped the safety off.
The loud thumping kept rumbling against the door. Oshun stepped quietly and carefully toward the sound. A brief peek at the security monitors on the nearby hall table showed an animated Masaki banging on her door with such force she could feel the vibrations through the floor.
Securing her gun behind her back, she called out through the door, “What do you want?”
“Open the door, Oshun! We need to talk.”
She took a deep breath, hoping the added oxygen would force her brain to stop thinking about how tasty he looked in his tight black t-shirt. The fabric was stretched so tightly across his muscled chest, it was difficult to focus on how she was going to resolve this situation.
“Mas, today isn’t a good day. I really need to be alone.”
She anticipated more yelling to accompany the anger that had him pounding his fist against her door only moments before. What she received instead was soft-spoken concern that unnerved her more than the violent banging had.
“Oshun, I’ve been worried sick about you. The last I saw you was the night of the fire. You haven’t answered one of my calls since then. Please, just talk to me, baby. Tell me what’s wrong.”
The sound of concern in his voice reminded her of how gentle he always was with her. He always sought to take care of her, meet her needs. It grieved her that her connection to the council had never allowed Oshun to reciprocate in kind.
“Watashi no megami, watashi ni hanashite kudasai.”
God, this man knew her weaknesses. Her mind raced with so many tender moments they’d shared. They were all filled with him working beyond her rough exterior by sharing his heritage with her.
It seemed silly, him speaking to her in Japanese, or him making her traditional Japanese meals shouldn’t have impacted her so greatly. But every time he did, it was as if he were sharing something so special about himself that she couldn’t help but feel proud he’d chosen to expose himself to her.
In their three months together, he’d taught her enough Japanese that she could pick up parts in a conversation to understand general meaning. That phrase specifically, he’d used it consistently when he was attempting to get her to share herself with him.
My Goddess, please talk to me.
She remembered the first time he’d spoken those words. She’d asked him why he’d referred to her as a goddess. His response, “I didn’t call you ‘a’ goddess, but ‘my’ goddess. Mine because that’s how I see you, and goddess because Oshun was an African goddess.”
It shocked her that he’d known anything about the history of her name. It shocked her even more that he’d cared enough to learn it on his own without any prodding from her.
Hearing him appeal to the soft spot he knew she had for him made Oshun replace the safety on the gun, and slide it behind the security monitors on the table before she unlocked the door and opened it.
“Mas, calling me your goddess isn’t going to fix this.”
He walked past her, heading directly for her living room. If she’d been smart, he wouldn’t even know what her living room looked like. But, she’d allowed herself to fall so deeply under his spell, she’d permitted him in her home within a month of them meeting. Now, he was comfortable enough in her place that he didn’t need her to escort him to any part of it. Yet another mistake on her behalf she’d have to try to rectify.
“Oshun, you don’t just get to forget about me. Not without some sort of explanation anyway.”
His anger evident by the narrowed slits of his eyes and his squared shoulders held up by his hands positioned on either side of his waist. He was angry, but there was a control to his anger that made Oshun reasonably confident he wasn’t there to hurt her.
She shook her head quickly. A week ago, she wouldn’t have thought it possible for Mas to hurt her. But, now that she knew there might be some connection between him and her enemies, she’d be a fool not to consider his ability to bring harm to her.
“I’m not sure what you want me to say, Mas. I told you when we started this I wasn’t looking for anything serious. I’m sorry if the time we spent together made you think otherwise. Moving in together isn’t something I can do.”
He folded his arms across his chest, widened his stance, and licked his lips.
“So, you going ghost is all about the fact that I want you to be more than a piece of ass to me?”
She dropped her eyes to the floor as she nodded her head. Oshun knew full well she was more than just a sex partner to Masaki. He treasured her; it was evident in the way he expertly played her body with the simplest of touches. It was glaringly obvious in the ways he took care of her outside of bed, cooking for her, and showering her with attention and affection whenever they hid behind the walls of each other’s homes.
He stepped closer to her, using his finger to lift her chin, ensuring her gaze was locked on him.
“You don’t believe this bullshit you’re spewing. You may not say it Oshun, but, we both know I wasn’t the only one entangled in this thing between us.”
He dug his fingers through her locks, pulling her mouth to his, slipping his tongue inside as soon as their lips met. His right hand moved deftly up the side of her hip and around her waist, pulling her abruptly against him.
She tried not to crumble, well, at least that’s what she told herself in her head. But the truth was as soon as his lips touched hers, she was willing to do just about anything Masaki wanted.
He removed his hands from her hair and waist, moving them to the front of her button-down top. While his mouth still devoured hers, he pulled the top apart, letting his eager hands cup her lace-covered breasts. He ran his thumbs across her nipples, smiling against her mouth at the shiver he felt pass through her.
When his touch elicited a deep moan of satisfaction from her, he pulled his mouth away from hers. Securing his hands under her arms, he pulled her up until her legs were wrapped around his waist.
He walked them to her bedroom, laying her gently across the cool white linens beneath her. He pushed away from her, briefly taking the inviting warmth of his body with him as he reached for a condom in her nightstand drawer.
He didn’t bother undressing them. He pulled his pants down far enough to pull out his thickening cock and sheath it. He lifted Oshun’s skirt, and pushed her panties aside with two probing fingers, checking to see if she was ready for him.
The slide of his digits in and out made her walls weep and contract, begging to be filled with something meatier than the lone finger he was using.
She was too turned on to care about how desperate she looked with her legs spread, humping his fingers, begging him for more. Oshun slid her fingers between her lips, swirling them over her sensitized nub.
“You have no idea how much I love watching you touch yourself. How much it turns me the fuck on to watch you get yourself off.”
Yes, she did. As much as she enjoyed masturbating on her own, watching Masaki’s dark eyes sparkle with desire as he watched her pleasure herself made cumming by her own hand a favorite pastime.
He removed his fingers from her cunt and waited for her to replace them with her own. She slid her hand under her thigh and inserted one finger inside. She was wet, slick with need, making the one finger slide effortlessly in and out of her. When the single digit wasn’t enough, she added another and moaned at the electric sensation of being penetrated.
Fucking herself with two fingers of one hand while rubbing her swollen clit with the other had her passion cresting. She was about to fall over the edge just as Masaki pulled her fingers out of her and slammed his cock into her.
The feel of his domed cap rubbing against her happy spot in perfect rhythm made her come apart. She could feel her muscles tightening with each squirt of her release. She couldn’t worry about how soaked her sheets would be when they were done. The way he was fucking her, pulling each wave of her orgasm from her, her brain couldn’t muster enough give a damn to worry about anything else other than how good she felt cumming on his cock.
When her legs were quivering from the last shocks of her orgasm, Masaki leaned over, pounding into her, wearing her slick walls out, pushing her over into another orgasm as he reached his own.
When his rhythm faltered, and she felt the swell of his cockhead inside her, she contracted her walls, milking him of his release, the way he’d taken hers.
When he was done, he leaned over, kissing her so sweetly it made her ache for more. He looked into her eyes, chest still heaving from their rigorous fucking, and his breath still a struggle to control.
“What we do,” he gasped. “This isn’t just about sex.”
He pulled out, removed the condom and tossed it into the wastebasket beside the bed. He laid back down, pulling Oshun into his arms, holding her head against his chest.
“Don’t run from us, Oshun. Give me the chance to show you what we could be if we only tried.”
LaQuette is an erotic, multicultural romance author of M/F and M/M love stories. Her writing style brings intellect to the drama. She often crafts emotionally epic, fantastical tales that are deeply pigmented by reality’s paintbrush. Her novels are filled with a unique mixture of savvy, sarcastic, brazen, and unapologetically sexy characters who are confident in their right to appear on the page.This bestselling Erotic Romance Author is the 2016 Author of the Year Golden Apple Award Winner, 2016 Write Touch Award Winner for Best Contemporary Mid-length Novel, 2016 Swirl Awards 1st Place Winner in Romantic Suspense, and 2016 Aspen Gold Award Finalist in Erotic Romance. LaQuette—a native of Brooklyn, New York—spends her time catering to her three distinct personalities: Wife, Mother, and Educator. Writing—her escape from everyday madness—has always been a friend and source of comfort. At the age of sixteen, she read her first romance novel and realized the genre was missing something: people that looked and lived like her. As a result, her characters and settings are always designed to provide positive representations of people of color and various marginalized communities.She loves hearing from readers and discussing the crazy characters that are running around in her head causing so much trouble. Contact her on Facebook, Twitter, her website, NovelsbyLaQuette.com, Amazon, Instagram, and via email at LaQuette@NovelsbyLaQuette.com.