Taboo Inheritance

It was a simple trip. A visit to Ireland, to scatter the ashes of Erin's grandmother. But on the Emerald Isle, forbidden lust begins to stir. Erin and her son Brian are falling into a pit of taboo desire. When they climb the holy mountain, they will get the shock of a lifetime, bound forever by their heritage and the "Taboo Tradition!"

~~~~~ Excerpt ~~~~~

But tonight, off all nights, when she wanted to fall asleep quickly, Erin found herself unable to settle. She twisted and turned, unable to find a position that would let her relax.

“What’s the matter?” Brian grumbled. “Are you lying on an anthill?”

“I just can’t get comfortable. It’s too hot.” Inside the sleeping bag, her skin was sheened with sweat. She flipped an edge of the bag up, trying to fan cooler air over her body. “I’m taking my clothes off. Don’t look.”

“In the dark?”

She snorted, irritated, as she tossed out her t-shirt and slid her shorts and panties down her legs.

But she still couldn’t fall asleep. Even when Brian’s breath went soft and even, her body refused to let her relax. The air of the tent was too warm, too still. She found her fingers gliding over her skin, tormenting herself with her touch. Around the curves of her breasts, down to her tummy, and then back up her sides. Slowly her cleft went hot and damp.

“Dammit,” she breathed, throwing the sleeping bag wide open. “I’m so horny.”

Brian jerked up. “What?”

She stared at him, wishing she could call the words back. “I thought you were asleep!”

He ignored her, staring at her naked body. The moon had risen, and some of its glow seeped through the walls of the tent, painting her skin silver. “Jesus, Mom.” She saw him swallow. “You’re gorgeous.”

She should have slapped him down, then and there. But instead she preened under his gaze. When she had caught a glimpse of her reflection in the mirror after showering, even she couldn’t believe how good she looked. Her tits didn’t seem to be any bigger. At least, she didn’t think so. But they were firmer, more pronounced, her skin stretched tight over their taut fullness. Even her belly was flatter, her waist narrower, her hair more riotously untamable. And while she hadn’t shaved herself completely bare for years, the patch of close-trimmed hair on her mound had become even more softly luxuriant.

Brian lifted up on one elbow, looming over her. Her heart beat hard in sudden terror. “Brian! No! You can’t!” She threw up a hand to ward off her son.

But instead of the lust-fueled, taboo attack she feared, she felt the warm heat of his hand as he placed it on her belly. Slowly, she let herself relax.

“You helped me the other day, Mom,” her son whispered.

“Now let me help you.”

For a breathless moment, his words hung in the air. Erin risked a look down. With his movements, Brian’s sleeping bag was wide open. He was, thank the gods, still wearing shorts. But the bulge at his crotch showed he was aroused. Impressively so, in fact.

You can do this. As long as you keep him under control.

“All right.” Her voice wavered, but she pushed on, raising a warning finger. “But those,” she pointed, “stay on.”

A corner of his mouth twitched. “Afraid I’ll lose control and start humping away at you?” His voice took on an edge. “I’m no rapist, Mom.”

She shrugged, not bothering to apologize. “You said you wanted to help,” she challenged. “Can you?”

He leaned down to kiss her, but she still had control of her wits, if not her body. She placed her fingers on his mouth, keeping him away. But gently, careful of his sensitive male pride. “One hand,” she said. She let her lips curl in a saucy challenge. “If you can’t make me climax with one hand, then I’m not going to waste my time with you.”