View Full Version : Hunk of Burnin' Love
June 3rd, 2007, 02:10 AM
HUNK OF BURNIN' LOVE
Coming July 20 as part of Samhain’s MidSummer Night’s Steam
Falling in lust with a sexy Elvis impersonator gets complicated when Vanessa discovers the real Elvis Presley may have hoaxed his death.
Summer should mean hot men and toe-curling sex – at least that’s what Vanessa believes, but a bad break-up has left her spending her summer nights alone. Then her sex life erupts into flames when she meets two very different Elvis impersonators on the same night. One is a sexy young musician who gets her all shook up in a steamy midnight swim. The other is a graying older man who looks just a little too much like Elvis Presley for comfort.
Vanessa can’t help falling in love with her new summer hottie. But their burning love gets complicated when the mysterious older impersonator begins dropping disturbing hints about his true identity – hints that suggest Elvis Presley never died at all.
June 6th, 2007, 11:02 PM
The carnival sparkled before her like a vulgar, roaring gem. Suddenly she realized how much she had missed out on this summer by staying home and moping over Landon. Well, that was going to change – starting tonight. She was wearing a short red cotton dress that showed off her tan legs and her long black hair was loose; the appreciative glances of passing men told her she looked good. So what if she was alone? Feeling adventurous, she headed down to the auditorium where glossy posters advertised the Celebrity Star Revue.
She paid for her ticket and slipped down a dark hall leading backstage. “Hi, I’m Vanessa Reeves,” she told the security guard. “Mr.…” Her confidence died as she realized she had never learned the impersonator’s real name. “Elvis invited me to come see him tonight. He told me to come backstage.”
“Did he now!” The man looked her up and down with a sly smile. “Go down that hall there. Second door on the right.”
“Thank you so much.” Even without directions, she would have known which dressing room was his. A booming rendition of “Burning Love” was blaring through the door. She knocked.
She thought she heard someone call to her. So she tried the knob and stepped in – and found herself staring at a naked man.
Her first impression was of smooth, tanned muscle. He was in his mid to late twenties, just over six feet tall with the broad shoulders and narrow hips of a model. That flawless sun-browned skin just seemed to go on and on, rippling from perfectly carved pectoral muscles down to a sculpted abdomen and continuing into long, hard-muscled legs. But as if magnetized Vanessa’s eyes were drawn to the center of his body, where an impressively thick, long cock was growing hard under her gaze. A wave of shock and heat swept over her and she quickly dragged her eyes up to the man’s face.
Silky black hair framed one of the most handsome faces she’d ever seen. Ice blue eyes blazed at her in outrage.
“Oh, I’m sorry!” she gasped. Heart pounding, she began to back out.
“Sorry?” the guy yelled, grabbing a towel to cover himself. “Haven’t you ever heard of knocking?”
“I did knock!” she said hotly. “I thought you said to come in! Look, I’m sorry. The guard said this was the Elvis impersonator’s room.”
It was obvious now that the portly, silver-haired impersonator she had met at the cemetery was nowhere around. Her face was burning pink with embarrassment – and her body was flushed with reactive lust at seeing such gorgeous, naked masculinity.
He snapped off the boombox. As he wrapped the towel around his narrow hips, his eyes traveled up and down her body. “Looking for Elvis, are you?”
“Yes.” Despite her flustered state, she couldn’t help noticing just how fine he looked in the towel. With his wide shoulders and sculpted torso, he could have stepped out of an underwear commercial. “Look, I’m really sorry. I was at the cemetery today and met him –”
“You met Elvis at the cemetery?” A mocking white smile crept across his tanned face that wasn’t entirely kind. “Was he eating a peanut butter and banana sandwich? Did he say, Thank you, Thank you very much?”
She scowled. “Look, I happen to be a big Elvis fan. So while I’m sorry I walked in on you – well, naked – I’m not going to let you mock his memory.”
Somehow her indignation unlocked his true smile. He grinned more genuinely and came toward her. “That makes two of us. T.J. Woodard here – a huge fan of the King.”
She mustered a friendly smile, as if he wasn’t standing before her with just a white towel tenting over that impressive manhood. As if the image of his enticingly stiff cock wasn’t flashing repeatedly in her mind no matter how hard she tried to think of something innocent. “Vanessa Reeves. Thanks for being so nice about the mix-up.”
T.J. leaned close to her, making her heart race. For a moment she stiffened with anticipation. But he only pushed the door shut behind her.
Her heart began to race with a nervousness that wasn’t entirely unpleasant.
“So,” she said lamely. “Do you work here as part of the crew?”
Those ice blue eyes were mesmerizing her with their erotic speculation. With every moment that passed, it was becoming harder to remember the Elvis impersonator she had come here to see.
“Yeah, I work the lights,” he said. “So how about I get you the best seat in the house?”
“Okay…” she said hesitantly. Something devious played in his smile but she wasn’t sure how to decipher it.
He leaned closer. “Just on one condition.”
Something fluttered inside her stomach. She nodded in a daze.
“You have to give me the best kiss I’ve ever had in my life.” His lips were full and sexy and she couldn’t help but notice how pink they were against his tan. “Deal?”
She swallowed nervously. “Deal,” she said, her voice barely a whisper, and extended her hand.
T.J. took her hand in one meaningful squeeze. Then he let go of his towel.
Unable to stop herself, her eyes fell down his broad golden-brown chest to the eight inch rod stiffening between his legs. It rose up like a velvet colossus, straining toward her with undisguised lust.
A helpless, animal heat swept through her like wildfire. All the frustration and yearning of this sexless summer collected between her legs in one trembling, demanding ache.
“I…” Her voice was shaking as she tried to assert control over the situation. Yet she only leaned back against the door as T.J. took her skirt and pushed it up her thighs. Taking his cock in his hand, he rubbed its swollen head back and forth over her panties. Vanessa closed her eyes, feeling the heat of his skin press through the satin.
“You still haven’t kissed me yet,” he whispered.
June 18th, 2007, 01:13 PM
Hours later Vanessa was walking through the cemetery with pink tea roses in her hand—her mom’s favorite. It was a gentle summer twilight, birds singing in the huge maple and elm trees that adorned the grounds. A few other families were visiting but the cemetery was quiet. She glanced to the west, where the setting sun was casting long shadows through the spiked iron gate.
She walked past the meditation pond and mausoleum until she came to her mother’s grave. Carole Reeves, beloved wife and mother. Vanessa blinked back her tears. Her vibrant, fun-loving mother had died of breast cancer four years ago and she had never stopped feeling the basic unfairness of it all.
“Hey there, darlin’.”
She turned to see a middle-aged man behind her. Instinctively she clutched her handbag and glanced around to make sure other visitors were still present in the cemetery. Then she took a look at his jeans, sweatshirt and baseball cap and relaxed. This guy just didn’t seem menacing.
In fact, despite his sunglasses, he seemed downright familiar. Probably he was the cemetery caretaker, here to remind her that the gates would be closing soon.
“Oh—hello. Is it closing time?” She glanced again at the sunset. “I didn’t realize the time.”
“No, no, you’re fine. I’m just saying hi.”
His deep southern accent was also familiar. So was his voice. He almost sounded—ridiculous as this was—like Elvis Presley. She had Elvis on the brain today.
He nodded at her mother’s grave. “That your momma?”
“Yes. She passed away a few years ago. Breast cancer.” Tears rose to her eyes and she tried to brush them away.
“I’m sorry to hear that. Losing your momma is a terrible thing. I lost mine young too.”
Just like Elvis, she thought. The more this guy talked, the more he sounded exactly like him. On the other hand, the silver hair poking out from his baseball cap, and the portly belly pushing at his sweatshirt, didn’t exactly evoke the popular image of the sexy, raven-haired star.
“I’m sorry,” she told him. “Was it cancer?”
A peaceful silence settled between them as they regarded her mother’s grave. A faint breeze stirred the grass as the man adjusted his baseball cap. She glanced sideways at him. Yes, his resemblance to Elvis was remarkable. He could have been a middle-aged, pudgy Elvis gone gray. Just like Elvis would look if he were alive.
Be real, she scolded herself. Elvis had died decades ago and he had been in his early forties then. He would be an old man now—if the legends about him hoaxing his death were true.
But this man was in his late fifties at the most. Maybe a well-preserved sixty. Still she glanced curiously at him. Finally she had to say it.
“I’m sure you hear this all the time,” she began, “but you look just like Elvis Presley.”
The man didn’t smile or even look at her.
She waited for a response. The man lifted his head and stared right at her. There was just enough light in the cemetery for her to see through the dark lenses of his sunglasses…and right into his pale blue bedroom eyes, just like Elvis’s. She looked at his lips. Elvis had always had the most distinctive lips, sensuous and unique, even after his weight gain.
So did this man. A shudder ran through her.
August 30th, 2007, 04:16 PM
Thank you, Coffee Time Romance, for such a nice review!!
"Hunk of Burnin' Love is the story of a woman's love of a man that has topped the charts in almost every female's heart.... This great read leaves more than a feel good feeling." -Cherokee
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