Title: Allure Box Set
Series: Allure #1-2
Author: N. Isabelle Blanco
Genre: Erotica/Contemporary Romance
Release Date: November 12, 2015
Blurb
***Disclaimer: 18+ due to graphic love scenes. This series starts out as a fun and sexy read, but it eventually turns into something much darker. If you’re not a fan of twisted plot lines and angst, this isn’t the series for you.
The Amazon Bestselling Erotica Series!
Includes the first official sneak peek of Wrecked Allure, the final installment in the Allure Trilogy.
Destructively Alluring - Book #1
“She was the sexiest, juiciest thing I’d ever laid eyes on, and I couldn’t have her.”
Allure Magnified - Book #2
“He ripped me apart, holding the pieces of me wide open so that he could get inside every part of me.”
Exclusive Teaser of Wrecked Allure - Book #3
“I was a God back then. Untouchable. Consequences didn’t apply to me. It was my right to do whatever I wanted—I never thought it would eventually cost me the only woman I’d ever fallen in love with.”
Purchase Links
99c FOR 5 DAYS ONLY
Excerpt
“Are you on a date with him?” The thought maddened me. I could barely stand it. “Am I that fucking forgettable to you?”
Tears flooded her eyes and her breath rushed out on a sob. “No, you fucking asshole. I wish I could forget you that easily.”
That’s all I needed to hear.
I rushed to her.
Her eyes widened. Shaking her head, she stepped back.
Too late.
Grabbing her arms, I hauled her up against me. The moment her body collided with mine, sheer hunger exploded in my veins, drowning my body.
A shaky breath left her and she melted into me, staring at my lips with a hunger as intense as the one I felt.
Damn her.
I laid my forehead on hers and wrapped my arms around her. “Then why are you here with him?”
She turned her face away from me. “It’s business related. His father might need me to help out part-time—”
“No.” I could never begin to explain how much I didn’t want her near him. In any capacity. Didn’t want him as her friend. Definitely didn’t want her fucking working with him.
Demitra squirmed in my hold. “You don’t have a say in that. Now let me go.”
I refused to do so, tightening my hold on her. “Yes I do.”
“We’re not together anymore!” she cried.
Did she have any clue how badly I ached every time she said that? “Look at me.”
She ducked her head.
I shook her lightly, unable to stop myself. “Look. At. Me.”
Tear-filled baby blue eyes met mine.
My breath hitched and a vibration went through my body—lust in it’s basic form. I wanted to ease her pain in the most primal way possible. Give her every inch of me. Fuck the pain right out of her.
“I love you. You’re everything to me. Stop pushing me away.” I was begging her at that point, and I couldn’t bring myself to give a damn.
I’d get on my knees, give her anything. Do anything. But letting her go wasn’t an option for me. I’d known that the day she disappeared on me in Chicago. The day she left me.
The last three weeks without her had done nothing but drive that point home. I needed her to live.
“I can’t be with you,” she whispered, running her hands across my shoulders, up toward my neck. “Not after what I’ve seen.”
“Bullshit.” I hugged her close and rocked my hard cock into her. “I know it hurts. That nothing I do will make you forget what you saw, baby. But no one’s ever owned me the way you do. You have to know that.”
“Oh, please.” Scoffing, she pushed at my chest. “Not only does your reputation speak for itself, but I’ve officially seen that you’re a sex god with anyone you sleep with. So don’t fucking pretend sex with me is special.”
My fist slammed into the brick wall next to her head.
Demi jumped, falling silent.
I didn’t care that I’d scraped my knuckles wide open.
Her doubts were understandable. I’d have them too in her place. Just seeing her sitting across from Keith, the first man to ever have her, fucked with my head.
Had I seen her sleeping with him and actually enjoying it, I would’ve been ruined too.
And I told her that.
“So please understand,” she begged me, slamming her hands into my chest.
“But—” I grabbed her hands and kept them pressed to me. “I fucking adore you, baby, and I would’ve never left you. No matter how much seeing something like that wrecked me. I would’ve stayed. I can’t live without you.”
The fight leaked out of her and her body slumped against mine. She looked defeated. Hopeless.
She’d given up on us.
Cupping her face, I pleaded with her. “Don’t do this, Demi. We love each other.”
Her fingers wrapped around my wrists, but she didn’t try to pull my hands away. “I can’t forget what I saw. It eats at me.”
I kissed her forehead. “I know. Just like seeing you with Keith ate at me.”
She tensed. “It’s not the same thing and you know it.”
“I do,” I agreed in a low voice. “What you saw is a thousand times worse. But I can make it better. Nothing could hurt more than us being apart.”
“Seeing you fucking two women at the same time hurts more than you can ever imagine.”
Until I met Demi, I had never regretted anything I’d done in the past. Hell, I hadn’t thought about my past while with her, and therefore couldn’t entertain the idea of regretting anything.
That is, until Monica decided to get territorial. The bitch didn’t care if she had to share me, as long as she was free to have some part of me.
Correction: as long as I was free.
I was consumed by Demitra. Not once since sleeping with her had it crossed my mind to be with someone else.
She owned me.
I fucking loved being owned by her.
And that’s what Monica couldn’t stand.
“I’d change my past if I could,” I said.
“But you can’t. And it’s my fault. I’m hurt—”
“It’s my fault. And Monica’s.”
Tears flooded her eyes and her breath rushed out on a sob. “No, you fucking asshole. I wish I could forget you that easily.”
That’s all I needed to hear.
I rushed to her.
Her eyes widened. Shaking her head, she stepped back.
Too late.
Grabbing her arms, I hauled her up against me. The moment her body collided with mine, sheer hunger exploded in my veins, drowning my body.
A shaky breath left her and she melted into me, staring at my lips with a hunger as intense as the one I felt.
Damn her.
I laid my forehead on hers and wrapped my arms around her. “Then why are you here with him?”
She turned her face away from me. “It’s business related. His father might need me to help out part-time—”
“No.” I could never begin to explain how much I didn’t want her near him. In any capacity. Didn’t want him as her friend. Definitely didn’t want her fucking working with him.
Demitra squirmed in my hold. “You don’t have a say in that. Now let me go.”
I refused to do so, tightening my hold on her. “Yes I do.”
“We’re not together anymore!” she cried.
Did she have any clue how badly I ached every time she said that? “Look at me.”
She ducked her head.
I shook her lightly, unable to stop myself. “Look. At. Me.”
Tear-filled baby blue eyes met mine.
My breath hitched and a vibration went through my body—lust in it’s basic form. I wanted to ease her pain in the most primal way possible. Give her every inch of me. Fuck the pain right out of her.
“I love you. You’re everything to me. Stop pushing me away.” I was begging her at that point, and I couldn’t bring myself to give a damn.
I’d get on my knees, give her anything. Do anything. But letting her go wasn’t an option for me. I’d known that the day she disappeared on me in Chicago. The day she left me.
The last three weeks without her had done nothing but drive that point home. I needed her to live.
“I can’t be with you,” she whispered, running her hands across my shoulders, up toward my neck. “Not after what I’ve seen.”
“Bullshit.” I hugged her close and rocked my hard cock into her. “I know it hurts. That nothing I do will make you forget what you saw, baby. But no one’s ever owned me the way you do. You have to know that.”
“Oh, please.” Scoffing, she pushed at my chest. “Not only does your reputation speak for itself, but I’ve officially seen that you’re a sex god with anyone you sleep with. So don’t fucking pretend sex with me is special.”
My fist slammed into the brick wall next to her head.
Demi jumped, falling silent.
I didn’t care that I’d scraped my knuckles wide open.
Her doubts were understandable. I’d have them too in her place. Just seeing her sitting across from Keith, the first man to ever have her, fucked with my head.
Had I seen her sleeping with him and actually enjoying it, I would’ve been ruined too.
And I told her that.
“So please understand,” she begged me, slamming her hands into my chest.
“But—” I grabbed her hands and kept them pressed to me. “I fucking adore you, baby, and I would’ve never left you. No matter how much seeing something like that wrecked me. I would’ve stayed. I can’t live without you.”
The fight leaked out of her and her body slumped against mine. She looked defeated. Hopeless.
She’d given up on us.
Cupping her face, I pleaded with her. “Don’t do this, Demi. We love each other.”
Her fingers wrapped around my wrists, but she didn’t try to pull my hands away. “I can’t forget what I saw. It eats at me.”
I kissed her forehead. “I know. Just like seeing you with Keith ate at me.”
She tensed. “It’s not the same thing and you know it.”
“I do,” I agreed in a low voice. “What you saw is a thousand times worse. But I can make it better. Nothing could hurt more than us being apart.”
“Seeing you fucking two women at the same time hurts more than you can ever imagine.”
Until I met Demi, I had never regretted anything I’d done in the past. Hell, I hadn’t thought about my past while with her, and therefore couldn’t entertain the idea of regretting anything.
That is, until Monica decided to get territorial. The bitch didn’t care if she had to share me, as long as she was free to have some part of me.
Correction: as long as I was free.
I was consumed by Demitra. Not once since sleeping with her had it crossed my mind to be with someone else.
She owned me.
I fucking loved being owned by her.
And that’s what Monica couldn’t stand.
“I’d change my past if I could,” I said.
“But you can’t. And it’s my fault. I’m hurt—”
“It’s my fault. And Monica’s.”
Author Bio
N. Isabelle Blanco was born in Queens, NY (USA). At the age of three, due to an odd fascination with studying her mother’s handwriting, she began to read and write. By the time she’d reached kindergarten, she had an extensive vocabulary and her obsession with words began to bleed into every aspect of her life.
N. Isabelle Blanco spends her days working as an author, web programmer, marketer, and graphic designer. That is when she isn’t handling her “spawn”, as she calls her son, and brainstorming with him about his future career as a comic book illustrator.
N. Isabelle Blanco spends her days working as an author, web programmer, marketer, and graphic designer. That is when she isn’t handling her “spawn”, as she calls her son, and brainstorming with him about his future career as a comic book illustrator.
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