Moon Crazy

By D.L. Jackson

Jace and Tara—dysfunctional. Yeah, maybe a bit. They decided a long time ago they shouldn’t be married, but the sex isn't something they want to walk away from. Not when it is that good.

Jace has more on his mind than a booty call when he shows up to his ex-wife’s dome. He needs a pilot to fly a racing ship he plans to repossess, and only the best pilot will do. There’s one issue with hiring Tara for the job. His ex-girlfriend Nia has also signed on as navigator, and the two women can’t be in the same room, let alone the cramped cabin of a high-credit racing ship. And, well, he’s kind of still sleeping with them both. But they don’t know that.

When they find out, the claws come out and hair flies. After the dust settles, something else happens. Yeah, two is company, but three can set the galaxy on fire when passions turn from homicide to more pleasurable activities.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Decadent Publishing
• Release date: Jun 28, 2015
• ISBN: 9781613338612

Book preview

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Moon Crazy

Smashwords Edition

Copyright © 2015 by D.L. Jackson

ISBN: 978-1-61333-861-2

Cover art by Mina Carter

All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work, in whole or in part, in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher.

Published by Decadent Publishing Company, LLC

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Also by D.L. Jackson

Carnal Desires

Carnal Attraction

Carnal Denial

Cinderella Wore Combat Boots

Seducing Liberty

This Endris Night

Her Boogie Woogie Bugle Guy

Being Prince Charming

Beauty and the Brigadier

Rebel Souls

Last Flight of the Ark

Courtesan Boot Camp

Finding Mercy

Shockwave

Slipping the Past

Black Hills Desperado

The Willfully Wedded Virgin

Moon Crazy

By

D.L. Jackson

Chapter One

Bootie call. Jace pressed his palm into the lock, and the barrier before him dissolved. He slid inside the dark interior and smiled, scanning for movement.

Pop.

A blinding flash, and the room illuminated like an airstrip. Tara, his ex-wife, stood across the room. His grin dropped. Shit. One of those nights.

Her platinum locks hung loose around her shoulders, not in the no-nonsense bun she wore 90 percent of the time. For clothing, she wore very little—a white, sleeveless silk tank and black underwear.

The dusky rose of her nipples blushed through the paper-thin fabric, leaving nothing to the imagination, which didn’t matter. Images of her naked were long burned into his memories, forever branded in the place men kept them when they needed something to jack off to. Her bottoms weren’t any more modest. The little bit of gauze was meant to disarm. He’d known her too long for it to be anything other than a demand for his surrender.

She leaned against the doorway to her bedroom and cocked her hip to the side. Took you long enough.

His gaze drifted from her face, against his brain’s advisement, taking in the shadow of her pussy lips, just enough to tease. Just enough to see she’d waxed. He forced his rebel eyes to obey, looked her in the face, calm as could be, and lied his ass off. Traffic was a bitch.

He’d dragged out his trip to her place on purpose, knowing it would incite her. And, boy, had it. A pissed Tara was sexy as hell. Any lesser a man would be on his knees, licking the toes of her boots by now.

Speaking of which…. Jace’s gaze made a return trip down her body to a pair of thigh-high, dangerous, come-fuck-me numbers, the heels adding a good four inches to her height. Huh, those are new.

He took several seconds to study them. She didn’t need the vertical adjustment and tended to stick with a shorter heel. So, why tonight did she choose to wear something not her style? Nice boots.

I think so. Cue evil smile.

Ah, there it is. What are you up to, Kitten? Yeah, definitely one of those nights. He’d be lucky if he didn’t leave limping.

He narrowed his eyes, giving her footwear a second pass. The heels didn’t look particularly sharp—nor the toes—but they had a look about them, one that made him question his sanity, wonder why he’d taken her up on her offer. They didn’t trigger the, I’m going to make sexual mistakes I’ll regret in the morning when pictures of her riding me like a bronco, wearing spurs and using a riding crop, appear on the stratus-net kind of warning. No, they induced a lethal or severe damage kind of alert.

Tara wanted to hurt him, and the boots had something to do with it. Of course, when she got like this, only one thing cured what ailed her.

The woman needed a good fuck, and he planned to give it to her. After all, she’d told him to come on over when he’d holo-traned her earlier to discuss another proposition, which more or less got tossed to the side to explore this one further. He knew an invitation to roll in the sheets when he heard one. And he never turned it down.

She raised a laser and pointed