Excerpt from Wild About that Thing

As the applause died down, Zeke and his boys struck the first chords of Rock Me Baby. Ruby launched into the rollicking tune, the driving beat automatically making her feel better.

"Rock me baby. I want you to rock me all night long.

Rock me baby, yeah, rock me all night long.

I want you to rock me baby, like my back ain't got no bone."

Zeke took up the second verse, giving her a chance to catch her breath. His sexy baritone vibrated deep in her stomach. He always managed to make this song sound deliciously dirty, especially when they sang it together.

They reached the bridge. Zeke's guitar wailed like a cat in heat. Ruby scanned the audience. Thirty or forty people at least, clustered around the tables or leaning against the bar. Practically every seat in the place was taken. Men predominated, but there were plenty of women, too. She saw black and white faces, age-grizzled hair and sleek, modern dos, ragged jeans and designer sweatshirts.

Young and old, black and white, rich and poor—everyone moved with the music. Everywhere she looked, her customers swayed to the beat—nodding their heads, shaking their shoulders or tapping their toes. That's the way it was with the blues. You couldn't help it.

Except for this one guy, who perched on a barstool pretty close to the stage. He had skin the color of espresso, a shaved head, aquiline features, and wire-frame glasses. The top two buttons of his white business shirt were open, the sleeves turned halfway up his forearms and the tails outside his trim jeans. His polished leather shoes looked expensive. The thing that drew Ruby's attention, though, was his aura of total concentration. One foot on the rung of the stool, he focused on the band, drinking in the music. His lips pressed together. His hands, decorated with gold rings, lay still on his taut thighs. He wasn't grooving with the rest of the crowd, but Ruby could tell he was swallowing up every note.

As though he felt the weight of her gaze, the man turned his face towards her. Their eyes connected. His were dark as midnight, deep as a grave.

About Lisabet Sarai

Lisabet Sarai became addicted to words at an early age. She began reading when she was four. She wrote her first story at five years old and her first poem at seven. Since then, she has written plays, tutorials, scholarly articles, marketing brochures, software specifications, self-help books, press releases, a five-hundred page dissertation, and lots of erotica and erotic romance – over one hundred titles, and counting, in nearly every sub-genre—paranormal, scifi, ménage, BDSM, GLBT, and more. Regardless of the genre, every one of her stories illustrates her motto: Imagination is the ultimate aphrodisiac.

You'll find information and excerpts from all Lisabet's books on her website (http://www.lisabetsarai.com/books.html), along with more than fifty free stories and lots more. At her blog Beyond Romance (http://lisabetsarai.blogspot.com), she shares her philosophy and her news and hosts lots of other great authors. She's also on Goodreads, BookBub and Twitter. Join her VIP email list here: https://btn.ymlp.com/xgjjhmhugmgh