Beach Reads Box Set

by Madden-Mills, Ilsa

  “Now this is the kind of pussy a guy can get along with,” he said, flashing a wink in my direction.

  And just like that, his playfulness washed my worries out to sea.

  “Just how good of friends are you?” I asked.

  He smiled. The bastard.

  “I know her really well.”

  My eyes narrowed, and he smiled harder.

  “But it’s the kind of friendship built on trust and respect, and I never have more than one friend at a time.”

  God, this man. He didn’t even know how good he was for me.

  “That’s good to hear because this pussy doesn’t have more than one friend at a time either. And she demands respect and trust before letting anyone all the way in.”

  “Duly noted.” He ran his tongue up the inside of my thigh. “Let the record show, I’m the kind of man who doesn’t rush things. I like to take my time and savor every moment, every single inch.” He moved to the other leg, repeating the same sexy-as-hell move. “And, Georgia?”

  “Yeah?”

  He slipped a finger inside of me and out again before sliding it into his mouth. He moaned audibly and closed his eyes. “You’re going to melt on my tongue.”

  Holy hell.

  “I think I’m already melting,” I whimpered, my head falling back on the bed.

  “No, baby, you haven’t even started to melt yet,” he whispered, moving his tongue against me.

  God, it felt so good. So fucking good.

  I swallowed my moans, gripping the sheet for support. It was intense. My orgasm was building far quicker and stronger than anything I’d experienced. My legs and hips shook as he sucked my clit into his mouth, his tongue working me into a frenzy.

  But he didn’t let up.

  He gripped my thighs, keeping me spread wide for his ministrations.

  My fingers found his hair while my hips moved of their own accord, grinding against his mouth, riding his tongue.

  This was the hottest round of oral I’d ever received in my life.

  He repeatedly built me up, only to slow things down when I got too close.

  He wasn’t racing to get me off; no, he was savoring every second. He told me how good I tasted and how hard he was just from watching me slowly lose control. He told me how sexy I was and how he never wanted to stop.

  “Please, Kline. Oh fuck, please,” I begged. I didn’t even know what I was begging for. I wanted him to get me off—badly—yet I never wanted this to end.

  “My greedy girl.” He sucked harder and my back bowed off the bed.

  “Oh, God,” I moaned.

  “Do me a favor, Georgie. When you come, don’t hold back. I need to hear your sounds.”

  “Yes. Yes. Yes,” I chanted, too consumed with the orgasm about to pull me under. Hell, he could’ve asked me to put on a top hat and sing the “Star Spangled Banner” when I came. I would’ve agreed to anything in that moment. Though, that might have made things a little more awkward.

  He grabbed my breasts, caressing the pliant flesh possessively, while his mouth pushed me toward the edge.

  My eyes rolled back, gasping breaths escaping my lungs.

  “Say it,” he demanded.

  I moaned, moving my hands to his hair and gripping the strands for leverage. My hips had a mind of their own, grinding into this face with reckless abandon.

  “Fucking say it, sweet girl.” The sexy growl to his voice was enough to push me over.

  “Yes! Kline! I’m coming!” My body lost control—legs shaking, lungs gasping for breaths. My pulse roared in my ears.

  I didn’t just melt. I dissolved. And I gave him my sounds. I’m not sure what sounds, but I remember shouting, “This is the best orgasm of my life!” at some point.

  I’m pretty sure I lost consciousness for a moment, only to be stirred when strong hands cradled my body, adjusting me on the bed so my head rested comfortably on the pillows.

  My eyelids fluttered opened to find a smirking Kline staring down at me.

  He pressed a kiss to my mouth. “Thank you. That was the best orgasm of my life too,” he said softly against my lips.

  His mouth crested into a wry grin as he stood, adjusting himself in his briefs. He was hard and standing at attention, making his appearance the hottest, most obscene thing I’d ever laid eyes on.

  “Now, I think it’s time for breakfast. Eggs and bacon sound good to you?”

  I glanced down at his crotch, shocked by the nonchalant tone of his voice. His dick was saluting me, yet he didn’t seem the least bit affected by his current situation.

  “But you’re, uh, hard.” And I mean fucking hard. That soldier was ready for all-out war.

  “Seems to be a common occurrence when you’re around.” He winked and walked toward the doorway, only to shout, “Meet me in the kitchen, Benny girl!” over his shoulder as he strode out of the bedroom.

  Did he just…? He did, didn’t he?

  Orgasms never helped my eloquence with words, but Kline Brooks was a giver.

  Like whoa.

  This wasn’t the norm. We’d all been with the norm. The guys who would only go down on you because they were expecting some sort of oral exchange. Once you’d gotten your rocks off, they were flashing slanty-eyed glances toward their dicks, waiting for you to return the favor. They’d do everything just short of shoving their crotch in your face. They’d rattle off options like an auctioneer: Blow job? Hand job? Just hold it for a minute? Let me hold your tit while I jerk off?

  They might as well have had flashing neon arrows pointing to their pants or, better yet, taken out a piece of paper and drawn a “here is my dick” treasure map, just in case we might have forgotten where the male member was located.

  But Kline hadn’t done that.

  He’d straight up licked me into an orgasm and then said, “Thank you.”

  He had thanked me for letting him go down on me.

  I’d never claimed to be a genius, but I was pretty sure Kline Brooks had just wham, bam, and you can thank me, ma’amed me.

  It was the sexiest fucking thing I’d ever experienced.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Kline

  Uncomfortable was too cushy a word to describe the kind of hell I was in right now. Hard and engorged, my ax was ready to chop some fucking wood, and because of the redistribution of blood flow, my brain was having a hard time explaining why it couldn’t.

  It wasn’t that I didn’t want to, that was for goddamn sure. But Georgie’s overall discomfort was easy enough to read. I knew she’d enjoyed my mouth on her—I doubted as much as I had—but she would have reciprocated out of duty or expectation. And honestly, the first time she sucked my cock, I wanted it to be because she wanted to. Because she couldn’t fucking stand not to.

  Gripping the base tight through my underwear, I fought to stop the pulsing and bring it even a little bit of relief.

  When the fiery depths of hell felt more like the heat of Death Valley, I rearranged myself into the best position and got to work digging out a skillet to make some omelets.

  Eggs, turkey bacon, and cheese, I lined the basic ingredients up on the counter and put some cooking spray in the bottom of the skillet. Poised to crack the first egg directly into the waiting heat, I had a flashing memory of Georgia’s swollen face last night and panicked. The egg nearly slipped from my hand, a completely graceless juggle the only thing that saved it.

  I needed to do an allergy rundown with her before I even considered preparing any kind of food products.

  I rounded the counter to ask her, but stopped abruptly in my tracks when she came sauntering out of my bedroom naked. She was like a new woman, confidence and determination fueling her stride as she ate up the distance between us.

  My dick backtracked, immediately swelling with the excitement I’d spent the last several minutes trying to calm.

  “Georgie?” I asked as she beared down on me, wondering what was on her mind while my dick prayed whatever it was would end in some for
m of attention.

  She didn’t say anything as she planted a hand on my naked chest and pushed me back until the top of my ass hit the edge of the island counter.

  The heat of her palm scorched my skin and the look of her body did the same to my eyes. I couldn’t focus on one place, my eyes bouncing and bounding from one glorious part of her to the next.

  Everything lost focus when she sank to her knees, the room around me blurring so badly I nearly passed out.

  “Georgie,” I called again, hoping she’d give me something to ease my mind. A look, a comment—anything to put my racing thoughts at ease enough that I could do nothing but enjoy whatever she intended to do. I didn’t want to be the guy who said the standard, “You don’t have to,” at the same time that I was thinking, Oh yeah, you do inside—because that was how it worked. But I did want some kind of reassurance that neither of us would regret this.

  Finally, her eyes met mine, and she licked her lips as she shoved her hands into the waistband of my boxer briefs, sliding them down with her palms flat against my skin the whole way.

  Fuckkkk. Me.

  “Mmm,” she hummed in anticipation, leaning forward and taking the whole head in her mouth. Just like that. Right in her fucking mouth.

  Gun to my head, that moment, my cock would have been known as The Grinch. Because that fucker up and swelled to twice its size in the matter of a heartbeat.

  “Good God,” I breathed, my neck craning back in ecstasy.

  She hummed at that, the vibration in her throat coating my skin along with the wet and warmth. I put my hands on the counter to stop from gripping her hair.

  This ride was hers, and I was merely a passenger. So many times, women play to what they think a man wants, defaulting to him rather than owning their ability.

  I’ll let you in on the fucking secret—absolutely nothing I could ask her to do would be as good as letting her surprise me.

  She slid her mouth down as far as it would go and back, leaving a coat of moisture behind. The chilled air tingled the skin she unsheathed and shot straight to my tightening balls.

  Her hand must have sensed it or something, shooting out to cup them at the perfect pressure, just between timid and crushing, rolling each of them between her fingers like a goddamn sac expert.

  My legs started to shake, but I fought it, scared she’d stop to ask if I was okay or if I needed to change positions.

  A swirl of her tongue at the tip later, she took me inside again, pushing the flat of her tongue against the underside and tapping it in a rapid rhythm. Up and down she worked me, adding her free hand at the base and mesmerizing me with a frenzy-inducing twist.

  My mind raced and blanked at once, knowing the cum was coming and working overtime to find the faculties to actually tell her.

  “Baby,” I groaned, finally letting my hand shoot out to grip her hair. I pulled it up with a jerk, but took care not to be too rough or startle her.

  Her eyes fucking destroyed me when they met mine, eating me alive with the same intensity as her mouth. She was swallowing my fucking dick like it was her last meal and she’d had a goddamn choice of the whole menu.

  I couldn’t hold back anymore.

  “Oh shit. Oh fuck. I’m gonna come. Ahhh, God.”

  She sucked harder instead of letting go, pushing me to get there faster with a strum of her fingers at my balls.

  I didn’t think I usually came that fast, but the surprise had everything fucked. My stamina, my mind—my ability to form complete sentences. Gone.

  When the last jerk subsided, she soothed me with her tongue, sliding her loose hand up and down the shaft slowly.

  “Mmm,” she moaned again, nearly knocking me on my ass. “You taste good too.”

  I would never, ever be able to look at this woman without remembering this moment. Not for my entire life. I was fucking sure of it.

  I was equally sure, as one of her greatest fears centered around being able to maintain a professional relationship with me in a work environment, she would not want to hear that.

  She got to her feet slowly, but I sped up the process, grabbing her by the hips and slamming her naked body directly into mine. My slowly softening cock rested between our bellies, and my lips sought hers.

  I fought the primal urge to eat her alive, though, teasing her tongue with mine in a sweet dance of thank-you instead.

  I wanted her to feel cherished and fucking appreciated. Her bottom lip swelled in my mouth with the pressure of my suction, so I soothed it with my tongue immediately upon its release.

  She moaned in my mouth, hard and deep and needy, and I took it as my completely ass backwards cue to break the kiss. My hands had already found their way to her ass, and I knew if I didn’t stop now, I’d end up pushing her into something she really wasn’t ready for.

  “Go put on a shirt, baby,” I ordered softly, and then offered, “Take a shower if you want to.”

  The shy girl was just under the surface, clearing the fog of lust, and I knew she’d much rather succumb to it in the privacy of my room or the shower than have to live through it in front of me.

  I pressed a soft peck to the corner of her lips and inhaled the smell of the skin of her cheek with my nose. Subtly sweet like a rose surrounded by apples.

  “I’ll finish making breakfast,” I said into her skin before pulling away. “You’re not allergic to anything other than lime juice, are you?”

  She smiled slightly before shaking her head.

  “Good. I’ll turn the bacon and eggs into omelets, then.”

  “Kline?” she asked, ignoring my rundown and sliding her hand up my neck to the juncture of my jaw. My throat tightened and my pulse beat double time as her thumb brushed the line of it.

  “Yeah, Benny?”

  “Thanks.” One soft kiss to my lips later, she turned and retreated to my bedroom and all I could do was watch as she went, my boxer briefs still twisted around my ankles.

  I was fucked—really and truly fucked—when it came to Georgia Cummings.

  * * *

  “Omelet’s ready,” I called through the closed bathroom door after making a quick stop in my closet to put on a pair of jersey shorts until I showered. I was still sticky with the evidence of Georgia’s performance, so I opted to go commando underneath them until I could rectify it—this billionaire’s apartment only had one bathroom.

  I expected her to call something back through the door, but she opened it instead, stepping into the doorway and nearly into me with wet hair, a towel around her body.

  With a mind of its own, my hand reached out to wipe away the lingering drop of water on the top swell of her breast. She shivered.

  I felt downright needy for more contact. Hugs, hand holding—I didn’t give a fuck. I just wanted to touch her, and I wanted to do it all day.

  “Spend the day with me,” I blurted.

  “Kline—”

  “No,” I interrupted. “Don’t say no.”

  She smiled, a tiny laugh coating my skin as she tilted her head to the side just slightly. “I wasn’t going to.”

  “Good,” I breathed in relief.

  “But I do need to go home first. I need clothes. Preferably ones that fit and don’t smell like you.” She held up a hand before I got defensive, admitting softly, “It’s distracting.”

  “Fine,” I agreed easily, countering, “But I’m going with you. Last time I let you arrive separately, you were forty-five minutes late.”

  Her face pinched in annoyance.

  I leaned forward and pressed my lips to hers, smoothing it away just as fast. Without moving back, I spoke my parting words right against her lips. “Any other time I’d be patient, baby, but today, when it comes to spending time with you, I find I’m a little less willing to wait.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Georgia

  “Cokes from a vending machine? Hot dogs from a vendor? What’s next, Mr. Spontaneity?” I nudged him with my shoulder.

  He shrugged, taking t
he last bite of his mustard and relish-covered dog. “I didn’t really have a plan. I just wanted to make sure you spent the day with me.”

  Night was settling over the city, streetlights glittering the pavement with their soft glow. We had spent the day riding the subway and making stops at random. Kline would ask me a question and my answer was what decided our next stop.

  Favorite place to relax? A stroll through Central Park.

  Favorite childhood memory? Feeding ducks at the Brooklyn zoo.

  Dinner was outside of MoMA, after we had spent most of the evening browsing Picasso’s sculptures and Jackson Pollock’s beautiful landscapes. He had kissed me slow and deep, fogging my brain with memories of this morning. Kline waited until he had me good and turned on, then pulled away, nonchalantly asking what sounded good for dinner.

  The horny side of me quickly responded, “Well, I really enjoyed breakfast this morning.”

  “You want bacon and eggs again?”

  “No,” I answered, standing on my tiptoes and kissing a sensual path along his jaw. Using my teeth to tug at his earlobe, I whispered, “That wasn’t my favorite part of breakfast.”

  And that’s how we ended up at a street vendor outside of MoMA, ordering hot dogs. The cheeky bastard had made sure to order us footlongs, adding, “Just trying to get the size right.”

  He found a bench, pulling me down into his lap. “Let’s eat, Benny girl,” he said, kissing my forehead and setting dinner in my hands.

  I ate my footlong, enjoying every second of being in his company. Pedestrians meandered past us. Taxis sped by in their usual hurry. But the world didn’t exist in that moment. I was too busy savoring every soft kiss to my cheek and handsome smile flashed in my direction.

  “This might have been better than breakfast.” I took my last bite, moaning.

  He tickled my ribs with his free hand. “I never pegged you as a liar, Ms. Cummings.”

  “Who said I was lying?” I winked.