» Reviews «

JERR Gold Star Award! "BIG Temptation is a wonderful story filled with strong, interesting characters, well-written dialogue and a healthy dose of humor. The sexual attraction between these two is undeniable right from the start and Ms. Rotham does an excellent job of allowing it to build gradually so that by the time they get intimate you are really cheering for it to happen. The sex scenes literally scorch the pages, as Barrett is a man who enjoys a wide range of sexual pleasures and discovers that once Jillian unleashes her hidden desires, she is more than an equal for anything he can dream up including a ménage with his friend Bay. Overall, I laughed and shed some tears for the characters in this wonderful novel. For the depth of feeling and the amazing relationship between Barrett and Jillian, I feel BIG Temptation is well deserving of a Gold Star Award." Laura Scott, Just Erotic Romance Reviews

La Grande Morte! BIG TEMPTATION is a compelling erotic story. While Barrett’s determination to help Jillian fulfill every naughty fantasy she’s had but wouldn’t admit to offers readers plenty of scorchingly erotic scenes, BIG TEMPTATION is also a love story, and one I highly recommend. Jennifer Bishop, RRT Erotic

Five Hearts! This is definitely as story that should come with a warning label for red hot kink at its finest. Don't miss this smoking hot story! Shannon, The Romance Studio

Ms. Rotham is extremely gifted at what she does. Big Temptation was a great work of art, and I loved the main characters. Even the secondary characters were awesome. I would love to read more about Cherry and Bay. I will be keeping an eye out for any future novels by Ms. Rotham. Pamela, Fallen Angel Reviews

 

» Excerpt «

Barrett had taken her wrist and pulled her from the private box before anyone tried to invite them to stay.  Steering her back to their section without further conversation, he’d chewed a couple of Rolaids and then slouched in his seat, not touching her except for the occasional brush of an elbow or leg.  If she didn’t know better, she’d swear he missed most of the last half of the game.  When the Chiefs made that critical turnover in the fourth quarter, he’d just said, “Well, fuck.”  It had been hard not to smile.

Now she wasn’t sure she wanted to know what was bothering him.  She had the distinct impression his darkening mood had less to do with the lost game than with her, although it was hard to be objective about something like that.

When he turned off the major thoroughfare into a very comfortable-looking older neighborhood, Jillian looked around with subdued interest.  She wouldn’t have expected him to live someplace like this.  He seemed more the apartment type, or maybe a condo.  In Tulsa, he occupied the corporate suite and, judging by his charge tickets, dined in the hotel restaurant more often than not.

He turned into the driveway of a lovely house, an English-looking red brick with white trim and dark green shutters and ivy climbing the chimney.  An old fashioned gas lamp on the lawn shed a very Thomas Kincaid-ish light on the front porch and the mullioned bay window to its left.  When the wide, fan-paned garage door opened, Barrett parked right in the middle of the well-lit space and switched off the engine.  He sat unmoving for a couple of minutes, just looking at her, and Jillian had the urgent sensation she needed to figure out what was going on with him and quick.

“Are you feeling okay?”

His clipped “Fine” said otherwise.

Crap.  All the brooding sexual intensity of last night, but none of the humor.  Her heart bumped.  Jillian started to glance away and then thought better of it, locking her gaze with his.  She wasn’t going to let him intimidate her tonight.  She hoped.

Whatever he saw in her eyes made fire flare in his.  He opened the door, climbing out without another word, and she followed him to the back of the Suburban--for nothing, as it turned out.  Barrett took both their overnight bags in one hand and shut the window with a resounding click.

“I’ll deal with the cooler in the morning.”

Trailing behind him into the house as the garage door closed, she tried to distract herself from the pulse-pounding prospect of what might happen in his bedroom.  She made a careful inspection of his home and what she saw surprised her.  The night light over the stove revealed a quaint, comfortable kitchen.  He might have lived in the house for many years, could even have grown up here.  There was a lamp burning in the living room, which must be on a timer when he was away, and though the furniture in here was relatively new, large and sturdy to suit its owner, the rest of the furnishings appeared quite old.  

When Barrett disappeared into a long hallway, she wandered over to an ornate oval table in the corner.  Unless she was mistaken, it was rosewood.  Probably a valuable antique.  The writing desk nearby looked to be antique, as well.  Funny, she would never have pegged him for a collector.  Adorning the cream-colored walls were several paintings that she examined with interest.  She didn’t recognize the artists, but the works themselves were lovely, mostly impressionistic landscapes.  There were no photographs anywhere, that she could see.  None of Barrett’s family, or of the man himself. 

“This was my grandmother’s house.”

Jillian jumped.  Barrett had come up from behind without her noticing.  “She moved to a retirement village not too far from here a couple of years ago and sold it to me, lock, stock and barrel, except for what she took with her.”  His tone did little to steady her nerves.  He obviously had something on his mind besides the history of his house.

The air conditioner kicked on with a click and a whoosh, making Jillian stiffen further.  The house was already chilly…  I like to get sweaty as much as the next guy, but I try to avoid heatstroke.

“It must have been nice to move into a place that already felt like home,” Jillian said in a rush.  “It took months for my house to feel comfortable.”

“I only had to move from the guest room to the master bedroom,” Barrett told her.  “Come on.”  He took her wrist once more and pulled her down a narrow hallway, stopping at the second door and flipping on the wall switch just inside.  Theater lighting illuminated the bathroom, sparkling clean and prepared with fresh towels.  The end of the toilet paper was folded into a point.

“Housekeeper?”

“Nothing gets by you, does it?”

Barrett drew her on down the hall into the master bedroom at the end.  His grip on her wrist tightened as he went, making her want to apply the brakes.  Summoning her courage, she kept moving until her eyes met the California king on the far wall of the large room.  Then she stopped short, and he stopped with her.  He’d stripped this bed to its fitted sheet, too, but left several pillows along the headboard.  Tonight the mattress was splashed with light from directional lamps on the ceiling fan and two bedside lamps with powerful bulbs.

“Get undressed.”

It wasn’t a request.

Arousal and anxiety ripped through her on the same indrawn breath.  Barrett wouldn’t hurt her, but the rough anticipation in his tone said he had something planned that she wasn’t going to be comfortable with.  He’d just ordered her to strip, but he wasn’t making a move to take off any of his own clothes.  In fact, he walked away from her and approached the recliner, which faced a highboy dresser with a TV on top.  He angled the chair toward the bed and dropped into it.  Not looking at her, he repeated his command.

“Get undressed, Jill.”

Jillian shuddered.  She wanted to challenge him openly, but his mood was decidedly dangerous.  Licking her lips, she addressed him in a low voice.

“I have a better idea.”

She swallowed hard in the silence that ensued, watching the middle finger of his left hand slowly tap on the padded arm of the recliner.  One.  Two.  Three.  Four times.

“I’m listening.”  His condescending tone, paired with the razor-sharp sensation of begging for his indulgence, turned her on so much that she had to press her thighs together in order to keep talking.  No wonder she’d always avoided the dominant types--they were entirely too exciting.

“We could play a game.”

“We are playing a game, Jill.”

“A different game.”

“I like this game, and so do you.”

“I like other games, too.”

That finger was tapping again.

“You’ve played games with other men?”  His tone was too quiet.

“So what if I have?”

Her little foray into defiance drove the tension level in the room through the roof and her heart thudded deliciously in her chest.

“Come here, Jill, so I can punish you for that.”  The barely audible command almost made her whimper, and she was torn between obeying and running.  Figuring that obeying would get her what she wanted faster, she moved to stand in front of him, not quite within reach, presenting her profile so that she could keep an eye on him without facing him.

“Bend over and grab your ankles.”

Uh…this was probably a good time to show some real penitence.  She hadn’t forgotten that single, smarting slap to her behind and was none too sure about asking for more.

“Barrett, I’m sorry--you know I’ve never played games with any man but you.”  She kept her eyes on the wall.

“So, these games that you like would be…fantasies?”

“Yes.”

“And you don’t have any fantasies where I spank your ass till it’s beet-red with my handprints while I fuck you from behind?”

Heat gushed into her panties as she twitched uncontrollably and it took her a moment to pull herself together before she could answer.

“As divine as that sounds,” she said unsteadily, “I had something else in mind for tonight.”

Barrett actually chuckled.  “I like that answer enough that you get to play whatever game you want--unless it’s not fun for me, too.”

Well, damn.  Well…maybe.  Her game was a double-edged sword and she could be skewered as easily as he.  He might go for it.

She turned and looked him in the eye.  He appeared slightly too relaxed.

“Truth or Dare.”

“Works for me.  Truth or dare, Jill?”

“Why do you get to go first?”

“Because I’m bigger than you.  Truth or dare?”

Since there was nowhere else to sit, she sank onto the foot of the bed.  “Truth.”

“Why haven’t you ever learned to masturbate?”

Jillian was glad she was sitting down.  Of course he would go for the jugular.  She looked at the fingers twisting in her lap.  “I, um…I tried a few times, but obviously…never got it figured out.  Truth or dare, Barrett?”

“Hey, now--there’s got to be more to it than that.”

“What do you want from me?” she cried.  “I tried and I couldn’t do it.”

“I want specifics, Jill.  How did you try?”  She could feel his eyes on her, willing her to look at him, but she couldn’t.  Not yet.

She swallowed before saying in a low voice, “With my hand.”

“And what did you do with that lovely hand?”

“I rubbed…”

“Your clit?”

“Yes, you jerk,” she whispered as the word slammed her there.

“Did you push your fingers inside your pussy?”

“No!”

“Why not?”

“Because that’s not who I am,” she admitted angrily, looking up.

Barrett met her stare and corrected, “You mean, that’s not who you were.”

Jillian looked away, startled to realize he was right.  Touching herself had always seemed like the first step down the slippery slope toward some kind of perverted addiction.  The only times she’d attempted it were after she’d failed to come with Evan and been so wound up she was unable to sleep after he left, and then she had been too consumed with shame to explore further than her clitoris, which he’d usually rubbed raw already.

After everything Barrett had done to her body last night, playing a little touchy-feely with herself seemed positively tame.  She might even be able to produce an orgasm now, if the need arose, but she didn’t want to do it in front of an audience.

If she chose Dare tonight, Barrett would make her do it for him.

“Truth or Dare, Barrett?” she asked roughly.

“Dare,” he said without hesitation. 

Damn it.  Double damn it.  There was probably nothing she could think of that would faze him.  It occurred to her too late he would never choose Truth.

“I dare you to stand up, right here in front me, for ten--no, wait, make that fifteen minutes and don’t move, not even a finger, while I touch you however I want to.”

“Am I disqualified if my cock moves on its own?”

Jillian hid a smile.  “I suppose involuntary responses can be excused.”

Barrett rose to his feet and came to stand directly in front of her, glancing at the clock on the dresser.  “You have fifteen minutes.”  He stared down at her with a veiled expression.

“And no retribution when time’s up,” she added.  “The game continues.”

“You’re wasting your seconds.  Don’t think I won’t be keeping track.”

Jillian hopped off the bed and walked behind him, getting right down to business by pulling his shirt out of his jeans as quickly as she could.  Darn it, why hadn’t she gone for broke and said thirty minutes, or even an hour?  When she tried to lift the shirt off him, his heavy arms refused to budge.  She didn’t protest because he was following her instructions to the letter, even if it was just to spite her.  She left the shirt bunched in his armpits and reached around his waist to work on his belt, knowing he wouldn’t be any more cooperative about his pants and shoes.  So be it.  Dragging his jeans and boxers down his legs and leaving them crumpled around his calves, Jillian stood back to inspect him.

God, he was a magnificent man.  She reached up under his shirt until she touched the thick hair at his nape, then skimmed a fingertip as lightly as she could down his spine, loving the hiss of his gasp, the shiver he couldn’t suppress, the goose flesh that rose on his arms and legs.  She didn’t stop at the small of his back, either, but continued on down, increasing the pressure when she reached the intriguing cleft between his round, muscular buttocks.

“Didn’t you say something earlier about paybacks being a bitch?” she murmured, eyes wide at her own audacity.  Like she would ever…

“I never dish out what I’m not prepared to take,” he intoned with rich intent, and Jillian paused.  Good Lord, he would actually let her…

“Chicken, Jill?”

“Did I say you could talk?”

“You didn’t say I couldn’t.”

Damn.  She would have to learn to be more specific. 

“I’m not chicken.  And I’m not your proctologist.”  His huff of laughter made her smile.  “And I’m here to please myself, not you.” 

She continued downward and slipped between his thighs to weigh his testicles in her palm.  They drew up immediately, but he didn’t make a sound.  Standing so close, she was unable to resist pressing her lips to the corded muscles of his back once.  And again.  Her tongue slipped out to taste his flesh, finding it hot and slightly salty with the afternoon’s sweat.

“You have eleven minutes.”  To her dismay, Barrett sounded completely unaffected.  She needed to make him as crazy as he’d made her since the moment they met.

Jillian reached up and pulled off his glasses, folding them and setting them on the highboy.  But when she tried to pull his face down to her, he remained ramrod-straight, so she kicked off her Reeboks and scrambled up to stand on the mattress.  She’d intended to kiss him, but the location of his face in relation to her chest gave her a better idea.  Without a second thought, she pulled her tee shirt over her head and unhooked her bra, letting them both fall to the mattress.  His avid green eyes and roughened breathing pleased her immensely, so she went ahead and pressed her lips to his forehead in a leisurely fashion, trailing kisses over his brow and down the bridge of his nose.  Barrett’s eyes finally closed when she kissed him there, just touching the very edges of her lips to his lids and lashes.  She kissed down his cheek, bypassing his mouth to lightly bite his chin.

“Eight minutes.”

Fine.  She placed her hands around his neck and leaned forward, enveloping Barrett’s face with her breasts.  He breathed deeply and his eyes were closed again, but he still didn’t move, so she ran her hands through his hair and down across his shoulders, brushing the deep curve of her cleavage back and forth over his face.  When he remained motionless, she pulled back and pressed one stiff nipple against his lips, and when that failed to elicit a response, she used her thumb to pull his lower lip down, inserting herself against his teeth and allowing his lips to close around her, pushing herself as close as she could get without smothering him.

He was breathing hard now, so she pulled away and leaned down to whisper in his ear, “I’m very impressed with your self-control, Barrett.”

“Five minutes, Jill.”

That might not be long enough for what she’d like to do, but she gave it her best shot.  Skinning down her shorts and panties and lacing her arms tight around his neck, Jillian grasped two handfuls of his tee shirt and climbed aboard.  Barrett didn’t stagger at all, absorbing her weight with his incredible back and leg muscles while she impaled herself on his erection.  Air hissed out of him again and his stomach muscles jumped against her wetness as she slid down with a loud groan, her socked feet locked behind his waist.  Jillian tightened her thighs, halting her downward progress about halfway onto him.  As she squeezed with her internal muscles, she kissed him, forcing her tongue between his teeth, plundering his mouth the way he’d done hers.

She’d just let go of a long suck on his bottom lip when she felt his hands grasp her wrists and pull them free of his neck.  He lowered her to the bed and Jillian fully expected him to follow her down.  Instead, he jerked her ankles apart and pulled out, staring down at her with fire in his eyes while he ripped off his shirt.  He must have toed out of his shoes, because he stepped out of his pants at the same time.

“Time’s up.”  He said it with such a wealth of satisfaction that she shivered in anticipation.  Which made it all the more bewildering when he settled naked into the recliner after scraping off his socks and putting his glasses back on.  His hugely erect penis glistened with her secretions and he made no move to cover it as he relaxed into the plush upholstery, chest and belly heaving, hands once again laid upon the armrests.

“Truth or dare, Jill?”

This could not be happening.  Barrett wouldn’t leave them both literally hanging out to dry.  Would he?

Jillian sat up, arranging herself in a more dignified position, hands casually draped across her aching sex.  She should say truth.  Dare was a bad, bad choice.  But she needed, oh yes, she needed desperately enough to dare just about anything.

“If I take a dare, will you promise to give me a truth?”

“That’s not how the game works, Jill.  You take a dare at your own risk.”  Barrett’s look was impassive.  “But I’ll make a deal with you.  You give me an extra truth while you’re working on my dare, and if you follow it through to the end, I’ll answer any question you ask.”

Well, that was better than nothing.