Book: Little Dark Pieces
Author: Maria McCartan
Genre: Erotic Paranormal
Fall under the spell of Maria McCartan in her tantalising debut Little Dark Pieces, the first volume of the Dark Pieces vampire series. Provocatively sensual, edgy and compelling, Little Dark Pieces is a vampire romance with a difference.
Down on her luck Londoner Carly Singleton works as a receptionist for a West End media company. Pretty and affable, she brings a ray of sunshine to the office every day and is well liked by both friends and colleagues. Behind her cheerful exterior however, lurks a deeply troubled woman with a complicated past and a yearning to find her Mr Right.
Determined to quit smoking, Carly seeks help at a Harley Street medical practice where she meets the renowned hypnotherapist Dr Nick Craven. Charming and charismatic, Nick is all that Carly has ever wanted and she can’t control the overwhelming desire he stirs in her. She is certain she’s found her fairytale prince, but Nick Craven has secrets—shocking secrets that threaten to destroy all that Carly holds dear.
Little Dark Pieces is an intensely erotic romance about the price of passion and an all consuming love that tips one woman to the brink. It is a tale that will consume you, obsess you and stay with you long after you have turned the final page.
Our suite is on the second floor of the hotel. As soon as we get inside, Nick switches on the lights, and I feel a flutter of apprehension. My legs are weak and it’s a struggle to put one foot in front of the other. I can’t believe I’m about to do something I’ve dreamed of constantly since the first day we met. And yet, a part of me is petrified I’ll end up disappointing him. It’s been so long, and I’m so out of practice. What if this is all a big mistake?
Folding my arms across my chest, I step into the bedroom area of our suite. It’s breathtaking, with a king-size bed, leather-panelled walls, a plasma-screen TV and a balcony with a panoramic view of the River Thames. By the window is a large cocktail cabinet, a gas fire and an ornately carved walk-in wardrobe. To my right, a glass partition slides back to reveal a spectacular bathroom with marbled walls, a huge stone bath and a gold-plated shower.
Suddenly, I start to panic; things are moving too fast.
“I’m sorry. I don’t think I can do this.” I turn to go, but before I reach the door, Nick’s in front of me, barring my exit.
“Please don’t go,” he begs, slipping his finger under my chin so he can see my eyes. “Nothing’s going to happen if you don’t want it to. We can just sit here and talk, or watch a movie. I don’t want this night to be over. Please, stay. Is that too much to ask?” I stare up at him and for the first time, I see a desperation that almost matches my own. “Nothing’s going to happen,” he repeats. “Scout’s honour, I promise to be on my best behaviour. I just want to spend some time with you, Carly.”
My head is screaming for me to get out of there, but his eyes hold me entranced and my body is refusing to take instruction.
At last, I let out a sigh. “All right, I’ll stay.”
Bowing my head, I allow him to lead me over to the bed, and for what seems like forever, the two of us sit side by side, looking away from each other, the air thick with unspoken tension. My arms are still folded across my chest, putting up an invisible barrier between us. The screeching silence pulsates through the room like an electric current.
I start getting heart palpitations; Nick’s giving me long, lingering looks that make my body tingle. He’s probing me deep, reading my face like my features are hieroglyphics.
Suddenly, he leans forward and whispers, “You’re so beautiful. Can I touch you?”
I catch my breath then nod slowly.
Cautiously, he reaches out and tenderly caresses my cheek with the back of his hand. Then he gently strokes my hair and the dip and hollow of my ears, his fingers warm and slightly shaky. With a shock, I realise he’s just as scared as I am, and this knowledge makes me feel a little less insecure.
Slowly, his hand travels down the side of my face, then down to my neck, and lightly caresses the sculpted base of my throat. As he works his way back up, tracing the outline of my veins, I marvel at the silky softness of his fingers.
“Shall I take off your jacket?” he breathes.
I swallow hard. “Y-yes.”
With deliberate slowness, Nick eases off my coat and drops it to the floor. Then he takes off his own and I find myself becoming aroused as he fixes me with an expression so hungry, it’s like he’s got me paralysed. Desire spreads under my skin and burns me all over as he sits back down next to me. His sweet cologne is making my head spin.
“You’re trembling,” he observes.
I drop my hands into my lap. Damn. He wasn’t supposed to see that.
“Don’t be afraid …” He reaches out again and delicately touches my lips, my nose, my eyelids. I arch my back and moan softly as his strong hands slither down to my waist and pull me closer to him.
“Can I kiss you?”
I nod mutely.
Tentatively, Nick presses his lips against my cheek and breathes in my scent. Lightly, he kisses his way from the corner of my mouth to my neck and runs his hot tongue in and out of my ear hole. The heat from his breath makes me crazy and I utter a low groan of pleasure.
Goaded by my desire, he gently but firmly tilts my face toward him. His lips brush the periphery of my cupid’s bow, teasing me into a frenzy that shoots straight to my crotch. With trembling hands, he cups my cheeks and takes my mouth in his, pulling on my lower lip with his teeth. I whimper as he kisses me hard and deep, his long, agile tongue plunging down my throat with reckless abandon, igniting an inferno of longing inside me. The force of his need leaves me breathless, his soft lips eating me out like he wants to consume every piece of me. No one has ever kissed me this way before, and the depth of his passion tips me to the brink of insanity.
For what seems forever, our tongues glide together in a flurry of unrelenting lust. Finally we pause for air, and the room is quiet except for the sound of our heavy breathing. Nick stares down at me, his body shuddering in a way that indicates he’s trying mighty hard not to act on a violent impulse.
Instinctively, I raise my fingers to my lips; they feel all puckered and bruised.
“It’s been so long,” he murmurs. “So very long …” His hand snakes around my back and starts to lower the zipper of my dress. I moan as he brings his face level with mine and whispers, “I promise I won’t go too crazy.”
Meet the Author
Since the age of five, Maria McCartan has been making up weird and wonderful stories. Now an adult, she consumes at least two books a week, along with a healthy supply of diet Coke and Galaxy chocolate. She lives in London with her boyfriend.
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