This month my name is Mary.
My name is different every monthBrandy, Honey, Amy sometimes Joe doesn't even bother to askbut he never fails to arouse me with his body, his mouth, his touch, no matter what I'm called or where he picks me up. The sex is always amazing, always leaves me itching for more in those long weeks until I see him again.
My real name is Sadie, and once a month over lunch Joe tells me about his latest conquest. But what Joe doesn't know is that in my mind, I'm the star of every X-rated one-night stand he has revealed to me, or that I'm practically obsessed with our imaginary sex life. I know it's wrong. I know my husband wouldn't understand. But I can't stop. Not yet.
|Product dimensions:||5.30(w) x 8.20(h) x 1.10(d)|
About the Author
Megan Hart is the award-winning and multi-published author of more than thirty novels, novellas and short stories. Her work has been published in almost every genre, including contemporary women’s fiction, historical romance, romantic suspense and erotica. Megan lives in the deep, dark woods of Pennsylvania with her husband and children, and is currently working on her next novel for MIRA Books. You can contact Megan through her website at www.MeganHart.com.
Read an Excerpt
By Megan Hart
SpiceCopyright © 2007 Megan Hart
All right reserved.
This month my name is Mary and, apparently, I'm as contrary as the nursery rhyme. First I said I wanted to fuck, but now I'm refusing to come out of the bathroom. What I don't know is that Joe doesn't like cock teases, nor does he suffer wasting time. He's already done the wooing, bought the drinks, made the compliments. If I don't put out in the next five minutes, he'll put his coat on and go.
I don't know this because I only met him three hours ago in a bar downtown. His name seemed as if it were a cosmic joke, but out of all the men I met tonight, Joe's the only one who bothered trying to have a conversation with me. That's why I picked him. That, and the fact that's he's hot and well-dressed, with a charming quirk of a smile that tries to look sincere but mostly doesn't.
"Mary, Mary quite contrary. How does your garden grow?"
His voice presses against me through the bathroom door. I've heard that rhyme a thousand times. Been called Proud Mary. Bloody Mary. Mary Poppins. My parents gave me the name thinking it had no diminutive, but people will always find a way to tease, if they want.
The doorknob is cool under my fingers and turns easily. I open the door to show Joe I'm ready for him. That the wait was worth it. I've stripped down to a set of lacy white panties and a matching bra, and I fight to keep from crossing my arms to shieldmyself from his scrutiny.
His eyes widen a bit. His tongue snakes out to slide along a mouth I haven't even kissed yet. I want to kiss it. He looks as if he'll taste good.
"Damn." The word's a compliment, not a curse, and I manage a slightly more confident smile.
I turn, slowly, so he can see me from all sides. When I come around again to face him, Joe reaches for my hand and tugs me one step, two, until, like magnets, our bodies attach to one another.
He's unbuttoned his shirt and the hair on his chest scratches my soft flesh. I shiver. My nipples peak against the lace and heat coils in my belly. Joe's fingers splay on my hips. I'm all of a sudden too shy to look into his eyes.
He pulls me to the bedthe nice, big king-size he requested from the clerk at the front desk with that same quirky smile that first attracted me. "I'm a bad boy," that smile says. "But I'm so good you won't care." It had worked on me and the clerk, too, who'd taken the extra time to find us a room with a bed big enough for an orgy.
There's no orgy, though, just me and Joe and the sound of the heating unit blowing the curtains. The hot air coming out of it smells stale, but what did I expect? Frankincense and myrrh?
"C'mon." Joe's getting impatient, tugging me onto the bed.
He kisses me, finally, my throat and the curves of my breasts. A shoulder. I arch a little under the feeling of his mouth on my skin, and though my lips part, he doesn't kiss them.
His hands smooth up my sides and over my belly. When one goes between my legs, I'm startled. He doesn't notice, or maybe he doesn't care. He strokes me a few times and I melt into his experienced touch like sugar in a hot pan, all crumbling, scattered grains melting and smoothing into one liquid ooze.
This is all happening faster than I'd imagined it would, but I can't seem to find the words to tell him to slow down. His fingers find the small, lace-covered bump at the front of my panties and begin a pattern of slow circles. I decide fast isn't such a bad thing.
"You like that?"
I nod. He smiles and reaches to flick open the front clasp of my bra. My breasts surge out and I moan in the back of my throat. I want his mouth on me, his tongue swiping across my tight pink nipples. I want him to suck on them, one and then the other, while his hand moves between my legs. I'm already wet from his caress. I can feel it when I shift.
He pauses to shrug out of his shirt and I admire his naked, his shoulders are broader than they seemed before, his belly flat and tight with muscles but not rippled with them. His arms look strong, the cords in his forearms standing out as he tugs his belt buckle, unbuttons and unzips his pants. The hair on his chest, arms and belly is a little darker than that on his head, where his hair is the color of a lion's mane. I wonder if he colors himself blond or if all men's bodies show such disparity.
He pushes his trousers over his thighs and takes off his boxer briefs. I can't look. I turn my head away, my breath lodging in my throat and my heart beating pitter-pat under my left breast. The bed dips as he kneels beside me. His hand returns to its shelter between my thighs and strokes me again. I lift my hips, an uncertain cry leaking from my unkissed lips.
"Take these off," he whispers, giving me no time to comply before he hooks his fingers into the strings at the side and pulls them off himself.
I'm bared to him. My carefully waxed and trimmed bush of candy floss pubic hair. The hard button of my clitoris. My tender flesh, soft with arousal, wet from his touch.
He parts my thighs, spreading me, and I moan. Joe seems to like this, because his breathing gets heavier, faster, the way mine is. He runs an inquisitive finger along my folds and then up to my clit again and, oh, the sensation is indescribable. He rolls my own moisture over the tight bump and my hips jerk.
I feel an unaccustomed weight in my pussy, an emptiness, an ache. More heat blooms in my belly and breasts, that secret cavern between my legs. He rubs my clit and liquid trickles down the curve of my ass, tickling.
He takes one of my nipples in his mouth and it feels so good I whimper. I put a hand to the back of his head, feeling his soft blond locks on the backs of my fingers. He suckles, and my fingers tighten. He mutters something but doesn't stop sucking my nipple or rubbing my clit, and my breath comes faster and faster until I'm light-headed.
I've been with boys before. Making out. Petting. I've given furtive hand-jobs in the back seat of a car, stroking and jerking and wondering what all the fuss is about. I've been with boys before, but not yet a man, someone who doesn't plead or fumble. Joe doesn't even ask, he just does. There's something so perfect about that, just what I was looking for, and I have no more time to be shy.
centers between my legs. I go stiff at once in my surprise, but my small protest becomes a moan when Joe's tongue flicks along my clitoris.
Oh, holy mother of God.
I've imagined this, using my hands or the pulsing jet of a hand-held shower to make myself come. Nothing has prepared me for the reality. His tongue is soft and warm, gentler than his fingers. It's like water against me, softly lapping like waves against the shore. I arch into the sensation. He licks me. I shudder. He licks me again, and I'm helpless to do anything but spread my legs for him and
Tension coils in my belly, and my nipples have grown as hard and tight as pebbles. Tiny moans leak from my throat. Joe pauses to blow against me, his hot breath making me writhe.
I've never had an orgasm with another person. I'm not sure I can. I've been close a couple times and it always slipped away from me at the last minute.
He stops again, and I'm sure I'm going to lose it. My thighs vibrate. The muscles in my belly tense and release. It will take only the barest pressure to make me go over, just the right touch, but he's not giving it to me.
He's doing something I can't see. Something crumples. hairs tantalizing my nipples wet from his saliva. His thighs and belly press against mine.
I have time to think of one more name I've been called, one that is appropriate but nevertheless tiresome, before Joe grunts and moves.
"Holy hell!" he cries, astonished when I shriek.
"You're a virgin?"
I'm embarrassed by the entirely involuntary scream, and I stutter, "Y-yes."
He's not climbing off me, though I wouldn't blame him if he did. The pain has faded, replaced by a sensation of fullness, of being stretched. It's not unpleasant. It's not exactly comparable to the stories of bliss my girlfriends have been telling, but it's not as awful as the tales the nuns told of unbearable agony, either. I've always wondered how a nun would know.
"I'm sorry," I say. "I hoped you wouldn't notice." A smile tilts one corner of his mouth as he pushes up on his hands to look into my face. "The scream gave it away." "I was surprised."
Something tender creeps into his eyes and he leans in to kiss my cheek. "You should've told me. I'd have been gentler."
Now comes the truth of why I'm here. "I really just wanted to get it over with."
He looks perplexed. "Why?" "I'm twenty-three. It's time. All my friends have done it. I'm tired of being a virgin. I just wanted to do it."
He's still inside of me and it doesn't hurt, but I'm becoming uncomfortable. This isn't going the way I'd planned. None of it has except for the part where I find a guy in a bar to take me someplace and get him to divest me of my maidenhood.
He gives a gentle, exploratory thrust. I tense, waiting for pain that doesn't come. Joe bends to trace the curve of my ear with his tongue.
"You shouldn't have to just get it over with," he whispers, voice deep. "Not the first time."
He slides a hand under my hair, which has spread out on the pillow. He kisses my earlobe, then my neck. His teeth press into the sensitive skin of my shoulder.
He pushes inside me and slides out, inch by inch. He does it again. The next time he moves inside me, I gasp and curve to meet him.
He smiles. "Good?"
It is good, but he doesn't seem to care when I don't say so. He moves a little faster and pushes himself back up on his hands. The tendons in his arms stand out. I can look down between us, to the point where our bodies have joined. His dark curls tangle with my lighter hair. He pulls out and I see the base of his erection, the ring of latex sheathing him, glistening. He pushes in and I watch, fas
Sex isn't like I'd imagined, but I can't say whether it's better or worse. It brings a flush of red out on my chest, and it must spread to my throat because I feel the same heat there. I watch him move in and out of me, and I think, connected. We are connected.
His face has gone solemn in concentration, eyes squinting, mouth creased. Sweat forms along his hairline. I smell him, a crisp bite of soap mixed with something musky and rich, like earth turned over in the garden after a heavy rain. Something like blood. I think it's lust. I slide my hands up along his chest, feeling his muscles bunch and move, touching the twin tight nipples so different than mine. I pinch one, experimentally, and he groans, so I do it again.
His thrusts are a little less smooth and a tremor runs back.
Without a word, he rolls us both until I end up on top, legs straddling his waist. I've put a hand on his chest for balance, and his fingers grip my hips. He shifts us both with practiced ease, and a moment later I gasp aloud as this new position allows him to sink deeper inside me.
"Lean forward and put your hands on my shoulders." I do what he says. When he begins to move again, I'm glad I did. Oh, shit, this is good. Oh, fuck. He fills me all the way, in and out. My clit bumps his stomach with every thrust, and the weight, the heat, the ache is back, though the emptiness has been replaced by the delicious fullness of him stretching me.
He slides a hand between us, his thumb cocked to press against me, and this extra pressure sends exquisite bolts of pleasure shooting through me like lightning.
"Come on," he whispers. "I want you to come."
This time, I really think I might.
He fucks me faster. Every thrust rocks my clit against his thumb. I'm being stroked inside and out. My thighs shake. My breath comes in hitches and gasps. I'm burning and frozen at the same time.
He grunts and thrusts harder. Our bodies smack together, my ass against his thighs, belly to belly. My fingers have dug into his shoulders, the palms of my hands pressed hard to his collarbone. The pulse in his neck beats fast and hard.
I can't stop myself from crying out. It feels too good. I no longer feel my arms, legs, back. I've become coiled in tension, everything growing tighter, like a key winding a spring, and I know it won't be long before it happens, before I spring free.
But not yet. Right now he pushes me to sit up straight. My breasts bounce as his thrusts lift me up and down. There's no more push-push pressure on my clit, but he replaces it with direct stimulation with his finger, which circles in time to his thrusts. This is even better, almost unbearably better, so good I don't think I can stand it, so good it almost hurts.
I cry out, "Joe! Oh, God, Joe!" And understand now that the dialogue in romance novels isn't so unrealistic, after all. I want to shout out more, words of love and gratitude. It would be easy enough to fall in love right now, with pleasure coursing through my veins headier than any wine has ever made me. I shout his name again, then I stop trying to speak and end up making sounds.
My clit is wet from my juices and his finger slips and slides against me. He's thrusting, I'm rocking, we're jerking and pumping but somehow managing to keep the pace together.
I'm not quite sure how, but I feel him getting thicker inside me. He closes his eyes, his brow furrows in concentration, and I wish he'd open them to look at me when I come. I want that sense of connection again, but he doesn't give it to me. I have to be satisfied with looking
Electric sparks tingle in my thighs and down to my curling toes. I quiver. My center burns with spreading outward warmth while the pleasure goes up, up, up, and I'm stretched thin with it. So thin, until at last, I break.
I can't make a sound this time, knocked so breathless with ecstasy I can't even cry out. My head tips back so far my hair tickles my back. I explode outward and become scattered pieces connected by nothing more than breath. When I inhale, I merge back together. A second time I burst apart and reform, more quickly and without as much drama.
Excerpted from Broken by Megan Hart Copyright © 2007 by Megan Hart. Excerpted by permission.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.
Most Helpful Customer Reviews
All I can say is wow. Read this book. It is beautifully written. What talent.
This is, by far, one of the BEST fiction stories I have read in years. So well written and compelling. Could not put it down!
Wow... My heart is breaking! Such a great read. So emotional. I needed to walk away a few times just to pull myself together. Loved it! More please!
I could not put this book down. I laughed and I cried but I really loved this book. I also loved that I got more insite on Elle and Dan. Such a great read!
I didn't think Megan Hart could write anything more touching than Dirty but Broken had me crying for Sadie, right up until the end. What a great read.
What else can be said about this book?! Wow! It makes you feel... worth every penny! Read in 24 hrs because i had to know how it ends! Unforgettable!
Beautiful story of love and dedication.Bravo!
Emotionally charged, but painful at times. Having losted my husband a short time ago to cancer, this story brought to surface some of the feelings experienced in my life. Well done Megan Hart! LATXN
I cried so much for Sadie and at the end for Joe. I wish the author would've elaborated on what his feelings were and if the stories were true. Overall the book is good and so very sad.
The love scenes are hot and steamy but the underlying story is terribly sad. You feel sorry for Sadie, Adam , and Joe. Very sad.
I loved reading this book!
Loved this book. It was sexy and heartbreaking all at the same time.
Loved it...want a sequel to Sadie & Joe
GREAT read and you wont be able to put it down!
I absolutely love this book. I have read it so many times, and I cant get enough of it. Definitely recommend to others.
This book was incredible, it had so many hot spots.
So much more than just a spicey novel. A wonderful plot and emotional character relationships. I can't say enough good things about this book.
Two great novels in a row...What an emotional plot. Megan Hart is one of the very few romance writers who weaves a fast pace story and a rich mix of superb plot and sensuality. I only wished for fewer sex scenes.
On the first Friday of each month, psychologist Sadie meets the handsome yet enigmatic Joe on ¿their¿ bench. Over lunch, Joe tells Sadie of his latest sexual adventure with such detail that Sadie finds herself transported into his stories, wishing she could be one of the women. Instead, in real life, Sadie spends much of her time taking care of her quadriplegic husband, Adam. Once, Adam and Sadie were blissfully happy, ensconced in the happiness of having one another and needing no one else. Now, however, Adam pulls further and further away, and Sadie craves physical touch and intimacy so badly it hurts. Caught between two men¿one a shadow of her true love, the other an not-dared-for hope for her future¿Sadie must discover who she is and what makes her happy.I¿ve never read erotica before, but I think it¿s safe to say that this is one of the really good ones out there. The sex scenes are hot without being overboard or uncomfortable. Megan Hart also does a fantastic job developing the characters: Sadie may be a little generic (though still relatable) due to her narrator status, but Adam is a well realized portrait of a brilliant man trapped inside a useless body, and Joe, while originally enigmatic, is also consistent enough from escapade to escapade that he becomes appreciatively real.If you¿re reading this for the sex scenes, the in-between plot can feel a bit slow, but that¿s also what makes this book so much more than simply literary porn: we become actually invested in the characters and do not think of them as simply sex objects. If you¿re looking for good characterization and a good plot, pick up BROKEN, with its classy-not-trashy writing and plot. You¿ll want to pass this around to your open-minded friends so that you can enjoy this together.
This story was so moving. I suggest it be read by all. Added to my all-time favs. 5+++ stars!
You may be able to tell from the blurb above that this book is written in first person. This is Sadie Danning's story. On the first Friday of every month she has lunch on a park bench with a man she only knows as Joe. Each month Joe tells her an erotic story about a sexual encounter while Sadie imagines herself as the woman in the story. But Sadie is married.In a strictly definitive sense she is cheating on her husband but I can't condemn her for it. This is not a story about infidelity. Sadie deeply loves her husband Adam. But a serious accident has left him a quadriplegic. Adam is bitter and angry and has emotionally withdrawn from their marriage. Sadie is a therapist so during the day she is helping her patients and in the evenings and on weekends she is taking care of her husband's physical needs. But no one is taking care of Sadie. She doesn't want to cheat on Adam (and doesn't in the physical sense) but these once a month lunches with Joe are an emotional release where she can feel like a woman. I'm convinced that all people need love and they need to be touched. Without it something detrimental happens to their emotional and mental well-being. There is a powerfully emotional scene when during a massage Sadie realizes it has been a very long time since she has been touched and she has an emotional breakdown. It was heart wrenching and I cried along with her. The amazing thing was that the masseuse just continued on and said it happens all the time. I can believe this. Touch is a powerful thing.At first I wanted to hate Joe for his easy sexual conquests and one night stands, but gradually I became convinced that Joe was actually falling for Sadie and was in a way seducing her. In fact at one point I started to think he was making these stories up for her sake. That's my opinion, others may see something else.Broken is not a romance but there is love here and hope and I read the last page with a sense of optimism for Sadie's future happiness. I couldn't stop thinking about it long after I had closed the book. Sadie's inner dialogue is compelling and her loneliness especially painful to read. The book is dark and pushes the boundaries of morality and I found it moving. Broken might make some readers uncomfortable but I loved it. It's about real imperfect people with real faults and problems. GRADE: A-
All the usual disclaimers apply - I know Megan, she¿s my friend and we¿ve given each other nicknames and all that stuff. Still, she¿s not ensorcelled me so I¿m incapable of an actual honest opinion on her book although dude, if she had that power it would be so cool, I¿d totally make her use it on my behalf. Anyway, I digress¿Broken is a lot of things. It¿s one of those books that stays with you a really long time after you finish because there are a lot of layers to it. In my opinion, it¿s the best thing Megan has written and she¿s a damned good writer so that should say something. Each time Sadie sits next to Joe and we hear a tale of his latest conquest, we¿re really drawing down another layer of Sadie. Whatever Broken is about, I can tell you what it¿s not about - Broken is not about infidelity. I want to make that clear up front. Sadie loves Adam, her husband. But Adam has withdrawn himself emotionally after an accident has left him a quadroplegic. She¿s lost him in many ways even though he¿s there physically. Her entire being centers around his care and schedule - it isn¿t that she hates him or wishes he didn¿t exist, it isn¿t that she wants to sleep with Joe behind Adam¿s back. Her life has made her into a mechanism - she takes care of everyone else and she doesn¿t get much emotional feedback because her husband has lost himself and she¿s helpless to help him regain what he¿s lost. So for that one brief time every month, she¿s unfettered from all that responsibility and context and she gets to be a woman. She wants to be held and listened to and those brief times once a month as she sits and listens to Joe tell his stories, she can transport herself elsewhere in her head. Sadie¿s loneliness is sharp and painful at times. Her loss throbbed in my gut as I read. Her connection to Joe, his attraction to her, her committment to Adam and her embracing her life no matter what it has become creates a book that sent me reeling over and over.Broken is not an easy book. It¿s not lighthearted and romantic. It¿s an unflinching look into someone¿s inner life. I cried when I read Broken. It made me furious. It made me laugh and grumble. It drove me to email Megan a few times and give her what for. Broken is evocative and deep and disturbing and yet, it¿s uplifting too. Because Sadie can be any of us, you know? And she survives and rises and finds her way in a world that could easily drive her to give up for let go of the things that anchor her - to her life, to her husband, to everything she finds important. She¿s not a saint, she doesn¿t take care of Adam because she loves the hairshirt, she takes care of him because he¿s her husband and she loves him and it¿s the right thing to do and she believes that. That makes Sadie a character that rises above so many other characters in books. She¿s flawed, yes, but she¿s *real*Broken is erotic, yes. The sex is integral to the story as a vehicle for Sadie¿s mental escape and also as a glimpse into Joe. The story is in first person but I really felt I knew Joe and his insecurities as he told his stories. In them he¿s not a sex god, his vision of himself is interesting and pretty unflinching. The moments between Sadie and Adam are heartwrenchingly beautiful and skillfully done and the connection between Joe and Sadie is powerful as well.I¿ve gone back and forth writing this, it¿s hard to distill what Broken is because I think everyone will read Sadie with their own filters. And because Broken is a complex book. It¿s not easy. But it¿s worth it. Broken is, without question, an amazing book and I truly hope it gets the attention it deserves. Technically, it¿s mindblowing. As an author, when I read it, I was floored by the skill Megan used as a writer. The story is marvelous but she tells it perfectly.
So many emotions. Such a good story. It kept me hoooked.