If I Were a Lady....

IF I WERE A LADY... by Bryl R. Tyne

Contemporary Comedy Novella out now from Noble Romance Publishing - click on the cover to buy

The Excerpt...

"Last chance, Kendra. If a neighbor reports the disturbance and the law is called on your boss--"

"You wouldn't--"

"Thank you."

Of course, he wouldn't have, but his threat had me opening my door. He handed me my cap as he marched past, tossed his jacket on the back of my sofa, stopped, and turned to face me. Without hesitation, he pried off each shoe and loosened his tie. He unbuckled his belt, popped the clasp of his pants, and slid the zipper. Then tilting his head to the side, he unfastened the button on his shirt. "Mind closing the door?"

He's nuts! "W-What are you doing?" Three shirt buttons to go, his open pants trapped at his hips, he moved one knee forward adding a jiggle from his ass. When he followed the same action with his other leg, his pants pooled at his feet. He stood in his open shirt, boxers, and socks.

I shut and locked the door.

If he thought for one second I'd give into his wishes, he had another thing coming. If sex were all I wanted, I'd gladly drive the ten miles to the truck stop off EXIT 22. "Put your clothes back on. Now!"

"Why? Isn't this--" He gestured to his groin. "All you want from me?"

"What? How could you say that?"

He shrugged out of his shirt, lifted up a foot, and slipped his thumb under the sock at his calf. His other sock followed. "Well, you don't want to talk, I'm only to assume." He hooked his thumbs in his boxer's waistband.

"Keep your shorts on." I threw my cap over the bar. Where it landed, I didn't care. "We'll talk."

He parked his ass on the back of my sofa, arms crossed over his fur-bearing, naked chest. Jesus . . . . I leaned on the wall opposite him, mirroring his stance. "So, talk."

"I want you."

Exasperated, I threw my hands in the air and began pacing. "That's it?" If he thought that'd solve the problems between us, he was sadly mistaken. Hell, I wanted things too, like--a dog. Didn't mean a damned thing, now. Did it? "Well?"

"What are you afraid of, Kendra?"

"Me?" I stopped in front of his smug ass. There he was, leaning on my sofa, thinking he was funny for taunting me, in my place. "I'm not scared of anyone or anything. You're the one who's scared. Of me." Like a baseball player, I grabbed the crotch of my jeans and shook it at him. "Of this!"

Damn him. I was back against the wall, only this time, not on my own volition. Val had my arms pinned at my sides and one leg between mine. "Keep talking," he said.

Easy for him to say. My heart slammed against my chest. Ebony eyes and wetted lips inches above me, defined shoulders stressed from holding me, coarse, black hair covering his forearms and chest, flowing toward the center like tributaries into a great river, he held me in thrall.

My eyes trailed that mighty river to his waistband. I forced myself to look at his face. "Why? I want to know why? Are you fucking queer? You want to experiment with a tranny? Is that it? Are you curious? Why? Why me, Val? 'Cause it sure in hell can't be because you're in love."

"I've never believed in love at first sight, no. But . . . I really do think I love you, Kendra." His grip lessened.

My face in one hand, his thumb caressing my cheek, he unbuttoned and unzipped my jeans. "I've always liked women like this--like you." He wriggled his fingers inside. "I've no idea if that means I'm queer, gay, or full of shit." His hand slid around to give my ass a firm squeeze. "Personally, I don't care."

Byrl Tyne
http://bryltyne.com