Swamp Hunger

Swamp Hunger is Book IV in the Swamp Series. It is a rich mix of paranormal, horror, racy romance, and crime drama fiction. Take a journey and meet a werewolf or two. Get friendly with the warm and furry down in New Orleans and the bayous in Louisiana.Salvatore Impastato asked Jorja Stowe if she could get away and would enjoy a three-day weekend in Boca Raton, Florida. With a delighted laugh, she said she would be thrilled. Impastato made the arrangements. He requested two kind-sized beds, in case Jorja wanted to sleep alone. He hadn't pushed their budding relationship beyond hugs, brush-of lip kisses and hand-holding. He'd finally decided to make a serious move. Jorja came out of the bathroom wearing an oversized beige silk sleep shirt. She stood in front of him, and used one knee to nudge between his legs. "What's taken you so long?" she said against his mouth as her tongue slipped between his lips. Barbara Mackey sighed deeply and glanced at the six-foot-two inches of lean, muscular body of the young man next to her in bed. Isley Brandon Wells III was barely twenty-one, a hockey player, and a senior at Tulane studying architecture and structural engineering. He drove a shiny red Audi A7 Sportback, lived in a plush apartment paid for by his wealthy investment banker father, and wore clothes purchased on his father's black American Express card. None of that mattered. All that mattered to Barbara was she could enjoy him without anyone knowing. Isley's hand reached out and skimmed her lower abdomen. It had only been thirty minutes since the last time he touched her like that. He was ready again. "How about a cup of hot chocolate first?" she suggested. "Ummm," he said, sipping the chocolate, the tip of his magic tongue creeping out to swipe at the marshmallow on his upper lip. "You know one of my weaknesses." No, sweetie, you know one of mine, she thought, as she let the robe slip off her shoulders and fall to the carpet. Ripple stood up, stretched, inserted his hand in the fly of his boxers, and scratched his balls on the way to the bathroom. Pushing open the bathroom door, he found the young black girl, Shinese, brushing her teeth, wearing only a tattered tee shirt that skimmed the elastic band of her skimpy panties. She turned from the sink and smiled at him with a mouth full of foam. After a long stare, she leaned forward and spit the toothpaste residue into the sink. "I can help you with that," she said, her voice so soft Ripple thought he misunderstood. "Say again." Shinese motioned toward his genital area, and said, "That problem you have there." Ripple glanced down, realizing he now held an erection in his hand.Domeno Abadie tied the rope securely to two of the heavy, decorative iron spikes that circled the top floor of the building. He threw the rope over the edge of the roof, then swung down to the balcony below. He grasped the lever handle and pressed down. The door was unlocked. He slipped inside. The warmth of the room, sweet-smelling, like his Minou, slid over him like a blanket. Domeno glanced at the big bed with its rumpled sheets. He sniffed a pillow. Her, he thought, inhaling the scent of lemon and oranges. He found himself caught up by the hot musky odor of male and female skin; semen and vaginal odors. His nostrils quivered, burned, and leaked as he breathed in the raw scents that lingered of their last sexual encounter. Damn you, Crane She's mine My Minou She belongs to me Kitty Chauvin came awake with a start. Her tongue felt like sandpaper. She tried to focus, and her memory came back in a blinding flash. "Domeno " she screamed, as if it were a curse. He had been in her bedroom. A bitter taste rose in her throat. How had he gotten into her condo? Had the bastard used gris-gris on her again? Silence, except for a faint echo of her scream . . . and the scrabbling of little feet. A sob caught in her throat. Has he just left me here to die and be eaten by rodents?