Bobbi BrattzHomeAboutDisclaimerBooksLinksContestBlog

2011ã Copyright

 Fire Dancer
The Dr. Love Shark Series

Book 3

CLICK HERE to purchase books by Bobbi

Erotica Romance Ménage M/F * M/F/M * Anal Sex * Voyeurism * BDSM


By: Bobbi Brattz | Other books by Bobbi Brattz
Categories: Erotic Romance, Contemporary, Menage a Trois/Quatre
Word Count: 53,387
Heat Level: SEXTREME
Published By: Siren-BookStrand, Inc.
Fire Dancer

Hawaiian fire dancer, Layla Kalani is afraid of men. To get over it, she decides to have an affair with a cop, Van Johansen, and a firefighter, Logan Graham, hoping that the ménage will help her get over her fear.

Van has loved her since high school. Every time he watches Layla do the fire dance, his stomach goes into knots for fear she'll be hurt. He's loved her for so long and never told her for fear she'd reject him. He's determined to protect her, and wants to show her how to love. Logan is intrigued by her. When Layla and Van ask him to become a third party in the ménage, he leaps at the chance, having known them both since he was a teen.

Together they heat up the sheets with love. Will they be able to save her from a stalker? They all battle the arsonist and strive to tame their hearts.

A Siren Erotic Romance




Flames twisted and burned as Van Johansen watched her with his heart in his throat. He wasn’t able to stop them as they curled along her arms, disappearing when she put them out, only to start up again. Her bravery stunned him as it always had.

Layla Kalani cried out, twirling as though she could avoid flames, but it wasn’t mean to be as she spun to avoid the heat. The night came alive as if in support of their power. In the dark she lit up like a beacon, the stench of gas strong in the air. People watched, fascinated as they gathered in a circle around her.

“Burn, baby, burn,” one young man shouted, his eyes reflecting the bright orange flames as they narrowly missed her chest and belly.

She showed no fear as they flew around her in a macabre dance. Her brother, Kona, watched for a moment without trying to stop the madness. Soon he joined in, yelling in Hawaiian to add to the fear and fury of the dance. Kona was soon consumed as well, fire flashing all around him, bright and alive.

Van wanted to step forward and stop them from touching her skin. She was beautiful and delicate, too small to fight the battle alone. Where was the extinguisher? He looked around but didn’t see one, terrified she would burn to death, yet all who viewed their fight laughed and showed their awe of the danger.

He couldn’t watch, but he kept his eyes on her anyway, unable to look away. It happened like that each time she danced with fire. Her sleek body moved with confidence as she swayed to the beat of the drums. There was no fear in her cinnamon-brown eyes. Her eyes held him mesmerized as he focused on every move she made. Out the flames went then reignited when she took the torch out of her mouth.

Kona took a swig of gasoline in his mouth then spit it out, laughing when the flames flew in a straight line toward the guests who screamed, spellbound with awe. The ocean washed waves along the shore, unable to touch the couple only a few feet away. Around the campfire pit at least fifty people cried out when she threw one baton up into the air, her body spinning in circles as she avoided their hot bite.

Once again, she captured the stick, only to throw it away and start the process all over again. Up into the darkness it flew, only to come down again to be captured by her delicate hand. Van wanted to yell and beat the flames out, but he stood there, helpless to stop the inevitable. It was always the same when she was near the fire. Though he never spoke to her, he kept vigil, unable to look away. She was stunning, fearless, and conquered the burning devil as her blue-black hair shone bright in the light of the fire.

When she finally put the flame out, she stepped back and blended into the pale light reflecting on Kona’s body as he danced. When she came back into the light it was without the batons, but she carried two arm’s length chains. At one end of them, small trays rested. Kona relit the flames with his baton and stepped back, shouting out words of support.

This time she spun one to the left in an arc, and the other to the right. Around and around they spun in front of her, making perfect circles of fire.

There was no give in the way she contained the lights, respect for them burning bright in her eyes, which were alight with sparks of orange and yellow. Again and again she cried out, shouting in Hawaiian as the onlookers clapped to the beat of the drums.

No amount of fear could stop the flames as he glued his eyes to her slim body, the leather bikini no protection against them.

Van could barely breathe as he watched, his heart thumping fast as he wondered when she would stop and put out the fire. He wanted to scream at her, pull her under the security of his arms and save her from burning alive, but she kept going. It had always been like that for him, in all the years he’d known her. Even as a teen, she’d played with fire. His fear for her built up every year.

“Come on, baby, you can light my fire any day,” the man shouted once again.

Wanting to grab him and beat him for his careless revelry at her expense, Van held back, his anger stirring as bright as the flames.

Finally, she put out her fire and stood beside her brother, smiling wide, her pearly teeth bright in the firelight as she sported a smile of conquest. She’d done it again. He couldn’t still his heart as it beat a quick tattoo in his chest. Unable to view another moment of her success, he turned and left the crowd. Now that it was over, he felt he could breathe again.