Rode Hard, Put Up Wet

by Lola Rebel

  "Fuck," he growls, his hips moving on their own to try to get as much of that pleasure as he can take. Lalique's mouth moves with him, taking that in stride.

  Her breasts pool deliciously on her chest, her nipples swollen and dark and perfect. His thumb dances across one again and she pushes up into the contact without stopping her ministrations.

  He moves his hands lower again, dancing past her waist and down to the place where her legs meet, his rough fingers teasing the tip of her clit. Her hips roll up to meet his movements, her mouth moving with renewed vigor.

  "Jesus Christ, Lalique—your mouth. Fuck."

  She moans with him in her mouth. His cock stiffens more than he thought possible. The beautiful woman pulls off of his cock to take a breath for an instant. She leans back forward an instant later, but Josh has another plan in mind.

  He moves between her hips, her legs propped up around his waist. She feels him lining his hardness up with her, feels him threatening to push inside.

  "Are you sure about this?" He repeats it again, even though his entire body screams to just do what comes naturally. His mind is telling him that everything he's doing is wrong—that he shouldn't even be thinking about doing any of the things that he's doing.

  He can stop, but he won't. Not unless he hears the words from her mouth. Not unless she tells him that she doesn't want it. She doesn't. She traces a hand down the lines of his chest and purrs to fuck her.

  He pushes inside. The walls of her pussy already grip him tightly, as if they're trying to milk him for all he's worth. The heat sears into him. His cock twitches painfully, but he keeps himself buried hilt-deep inside her for a moment, to let her adjust.

  The way that she rolls her hips tells him that he's waited long enough. He pulls out a little way and plows forward again, pushing deep inside. Her body reacts, a soft moan ripping from her lips even as she tries to stay quiet.

  "Jesus, fuck, you're tight," Josh growls. It's hard to believe, the way that her body grips him and tries desperately not to let go.

  He moves hard inside her, his entire body tense and taut like a spring that's been pressed as tight as it will go. Her heels press him into her, driving his cock deeper inside with each thrust.

  Every time he pulls back out her body only knows enough to try to stop him, to grip him tight and pull him back inside. To take as much pleasure as she can possibly get.

  Lalique turns and twists beneath him as he slams home once more, the sound of flesh slapping against flesh ringing through the bedroom. Her body moves to meet him with each thrust until finally, with one last thrust, he pushes inside and spends himself.

  His cock spasms hard as rope after rope of cum shoots into her. Lalique's eyes flutter for a moment as she tightens around him, as if her body is trying to swallow his sperm, to bring it deeper inside her.

  Finally she lays her head back, her breaths coming short and hard and ragged. Josh lowers himself down on top of her and presses a kiss into her lips.

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  Do you like it rough?

  It was just a one night stand.

  With my best friend.

  He's wealthier than I ever dreamed of being.

  Hotter than anyone I ever thought I'd be with.

  And he knocked me up.

  But he knocked her up, too.

  My life is over. His life is over.

  We both have a lot of growing up to do...

  Preview…

  “Do you like it rough?”

  Tiffany blushes, but she has no answer for his question. “I-” Shit, I don't want to say I'm a virgin. That'd be weird. “I don't know! I've never tried it before.”

  Max growls into her neck and bites hard. She gasps again, her toes curling and her nipples getting hard. “Do you want to find out?”

  She only nods in response, her womanhood pulsating heat and desire. Tiffany can't wait for Max to touch her there, to feel her heat and her wetness. She bites her bottom lip and arches her back as Max tears away the rest of her shirt, leaving her topless aside from the tattered fabric draped over her arms.

  He moves down, his mouth focusing on her breasts. Delicious globs of flesh, the perfect size for his hands. Her nipples are stiff and sensitive, each lick and nibble sending a shock through Tiffany and making her clitoris twitch. She's never felt it twitch before. It's pleasant, in a way.

  His fingers scratch down her sides, leaving raised trails, dark streaks that claim her as his domain. Beautiful, territorial, sexy. Max's hands reach behind her back and pull her chest towards him, allowing him a different angle for suckling on her beautiful pink nipple.

  Kissing her collar bone, he moves down again. His hands hold her thick thighs apart, spreading them wide and exposing her hidden flesh. He pushes her leather skirt up and exposes her panties. They are sheer pink and lacy with a damp spot from her desire.

  “God damn,” Max groans. “I can't wait to taste you, Tiffany.”

  Tiffany is embarrassed by the comment at first, her face flushing dark red. When Max dips his head into her skirt and nibbles at her pussy lips through her panties, though, she stops caring and gives in. His large fingers push aside her thin panties. Max examines her luscious pussy lips, pulling them wide and exposing her stiff clitoris. The way her juices for droplets on what little hair she has down there, and how it drips down to her ass, drives Max wild with desire. Her pubic hair is as black as night, curly and wild, which shouldn't be a surprise for him but somehow is.

  Max dips his tongue into her folds, only probing her for now. Tasting her, savoring the experience of being with his best friend. Thoughts of Charlotte are miles away for right now, his mind solely focused on exploring this black goddess below him.

  Bringing a finger to her folds, he drags it up and then down on both sides. It teases around her clitoris, never fully touching it. Tiffany gasps, raising her ass to try and trick him into touching her and giving her some release.

  Max doesn't give in, enjoying her desire and the torture he's inflicting. A wicked smile crosses his face and he licks her folds again, enjoying her taste. As with his finger, he drags his tongue around the velvet inner skin but never once touches her most pleasurable spot.

  “Please,” Tiffany begs, her fingers tangling in his hair. “Please just lick me, please!”

  Max watches her face contort with frustration before finally giving her what she wants. His tongue slips over the hood covering her clit, and Tiffany jolts upright with an “OH!”

  She tugs at his hair, directing his mouth to apply pressure in certain spots. His tongue darts all around, still teasing her, only sometimes pressing against her clitoris. She moans and whines and grunts, trying to get her pleasure.

  Max stops and pulls away, setting a finger at her entrance. He inserts it and Tiffany makes a face.

  “What's wrong?”

  “I'm- well, I'm a virgin.” Crap. She didn't want to tell him that.

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  I didn't kill my wife!

  There's a killer on the loose.

  My whole town thinks it's me.

  Maybe I'm a bastard. Maybe I'm a mean person.

  Maybe I was a bad husband.

  But I didn't kill my god damn wife!

  ***

  My sister was dead. I'll never be the same.

  But I knew he was innocent, and I had to find the real killer.

  The person who killed my sister. The person who killed his wife.

  As we dug deeper, though, I started feeling things for him...

  I was falling in love with him.

  Too bad his love came with a dangerous price.

  At a glance:

  Themes: Murder mystery, romantic suspense, whodunnit, unexpected love, erotic thriller

  Notes: Standalone, Happily Ever After (HEA), sexy romance with lots of heat!

  Preview…

  "You're home," she said.

  "You're still here," he co
untered. He shouldn't have done it last night. And he was exhausted tonight.

  But as his hand found the place between her thighs, he knew instinctively that he wasn't going to be talked out of doing what he wanted to do.

  His fingers found her center as his lips found her throat. He kissed her. She made sounds that let him know exactly how much she appreciated the attention. So he gave her more of it, and made love to her, and pretended that there was a future there. That he wasn't a forty-year-old man fucking a college girl, and that she wouldn't wake up and realize what she'd done. Soon, if not tomorrow.

  He just about managed it, in spite of himself. He fell asleep dreaming of the life he was going to have, of how he was going to do everything different this time. He was going to do everything better. Be a better lover, a better boyfriend, a better husband if she'd take him.

  He dreamed about how he'd protect her, make sure that nothing happened to her, like it had with Cora. The visions were so vivid, so present in his mind that he almost started to believe them.

  The screams brought him back to attention. His eyes shot open, his body tensed and started to move out of bed and toward the guest bedroom before he even knew what was happening. He stepped through the door, into the hall, and right into the waiting arms of someone wearing all black. Someone with a mask on.

  Someone who brought their hand up, full of a syringe, and jabbed it hard into his neck. Then they pushed the plunger, and he felt the chemicals flowing into his veins. Spreading out like fire.

  They pulled it out. He struggled to get loose. His body wasn't doing what he wanted it to. He needed to get to Jennifer. Someone else had her by her arms, and by her legs. But it was a dream. Because if it wasn't a dream, he'd be doing something about it.

  But instead, in the dream, he slumped to his knees. Whoever had their arms around his shoulders let him down slow. His face pressed against the hardwood floors. They were dirty. He should have cleaned them.

  But he didn't have to worry about that for long. After a couple more seconds, with someone very far away making quite a commotion, he lost track of where the floor was, precisely. He lost track of the mess that he'd seen on it. And then the wall next to the floor was gone. The floor was gone. He was gone. He waited to wake up in his bed. It didn't happen. He stopped thinking about it. It was hard to think. Easier to just let go.

  Eventually, he hoped, he'd be able to see Jennifer again, and tell her he loved her. Maybe in the morning. When he woke up. But the dream kept going, floating in the dark, until he wasn't sure whether he was dreaming or not.

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  “No panties?” I kept my voice low and soft.

  “You like that, don’t you?”

  It was my turn for my breath to catch in my throat, to sound ragged and needy and demanding. “Don’t tease me.”

  She looked up at me and batted her eyelashes demurely. “No? Why not?”

  When Dave Collins left, he left for good.

  He left his parents, left the home he'd grown up in, and he left me... with a baby growing in my belly that I never even knew about until he was off at Basic, pretending he'd never come from a hick town in northern Michigan.

  But now he's back, and he's as sexy as ever. I just have to remind myself that as soon as he's done here, he's gone again.

  This time I'm not going to let it hurt so bad.

  This is a sizzling standalone novel with a guaranteed happily ever after and NO CLIFFHANGERS!

  Preview . . . . . . .

  Even through a zipper and several layers of denim, folded up to make a nice, heavy-wearing garment I could feel her touching me, and I could feel the electric sensation of pressure driving me up a wall.

  “You like that, don’t you?”

  It was my turn for my breath to catch in my throat, to sound ragged and needy and demanding. “Don’t tease me.”

  She looked up at me and batted her eyelashes demurely. “No? Why not?” Then she started to drift down to her knees, her hand still rubbing the front of my jeans.

  “God… I just… don’t.”

  “After all those years that you teased me?”

  “Don’t hold high school against me.”

  “I’ll hold whatever I want to against you, David Collins. And if that means…” She paused to bring her face dangerously close to my crotch without ever making a real move to take my hardness out of them. “If that means that you get teased, then you get teased.”

  I sucked in a breath. “You sure that’s what you want?”

  “Why wouldn’t I?”

  “You might end up regretting it,” I say, trying to make my voice sound vaguely threatening.

  “Who says I’d regret it?”

  She let the question hang in the air a moment before reaching up to undo the button of my jeans, and then worked the fly until I was standing proud of the opening of my jeans, my hardness straining against the fabric of my boxers.

  “God,” I growled. “I should have done this years ago.”

  She didn’t respond to that, just pulled the boxers down a little bit, enough that my cock sprung loose and stared her in the face.

  “You think so, huh?”

  I took a deep breath in and leaned back against the counter. It didn’t creak under my weight.

  “Yeah,” I said softly. An image flashed in my mind, halfway remembered. Something about the smell and the sensation of her hand gripping my shaft aroused a memory, faint even in focus.

  Then she took me into her mouth and I lost my mind and the memories it held. The only thing that existed was the feeling of her lips wrapped around my shaft and giving me the pleasure that I needed. Pleasure that was all-encompassing and impossible.

  “God, that’s good,” I growled. It was an effort not to take her hair in my hands and force her to move faster.

  I let her move at her own pace for a minute. But the temptation grew, and grew. I pulled her away and looked her in the eyes.

  “I’m going to move, now,” I said.

  She didn’t respond except to start sucking again. I grabbed her head and thrust my hips. It caught in her throat and she made a soft choking noise as I pulled back. My body wanted to keep moving, keep going deeper and deeper until I was practically all the way to her stomach. But I forced myself to stay to a slow, controlled rhythm.

  Then I pushed her away.

  “No more,” I said. My breaths were coming hard and fast and my head needed to clear. But even then I had trouble controlling myself. Even knowing what was still to come. “Stand up.”

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  I push into her slowly, her arousal slick enough that I don't find much resistance against me...

  He was a renegade... an outlaw... and I loved him so much.

  There's a fine line between work and pleasure. Jada Davis has crossed that line before, and she's not going to cross it again. But the heart wants what it wants, and Jada can't deny that her body wants Ryan Beauchamp, too.

  He's a ruthless killer and a gun runner. There's no way that she's got anything going on with him. The relationship's done, dead in the water, gone.

  But he's the only ticket she's got to getting the biggest score of her career, and every step they get closer to the catch of a lifetime takes her one step closer to Beauchamp, and his frustratingly-attractive bedroom.

  Preview…

  I can't help myself, looking down at Davis's body beneath me. I can feel the heat, where we're pressed together. The way that she trembles, I can feel the need that she's feeling, need reflected in my own hardness.

  I put a hand down on her back, pressing her body into the seat, and rub the head of my cock up and down her wet pussy. I push inside slowly, her arousal slick enough that I don't find much resistance against my invading cock.

  Davis groans out her pleasure, a pleasure that threatens even after so little to overwhelm me. Her pussy pressed in against my unprotected cock clutches at every part of i
t, fighting to stop me from pulling back out.

  The sensation is almost too much as I pull back. When I slam forward again into her waiting pussy, Davis lets out a loud groan of pleasure. I can't help but join her.

  "Oh, fuck," I groan, starting to settle into a rhythm. With each pull out, I feel her pussy trying to pull me back in, and with each thrust in I feel as if I'm already impossibly close to orgasm.

  I take a grip of her hips and use them as a handle to push into her harder, the sound of flesh slapping against flesh starting to echo through the bar around us. I don't care, and as far as I can tell, Davis doesn't care, either. Not that she seems like she's in any state to worry about anything.

  She shudders with pleasure as I pound my cock into her again, my grip starting to slip where her body is slick with sweat from the heat of the room mixing with the heat of arousal.

  I can feel myself hitting her deepest parts, her body giving up its pleasure to me. I don't need to be given, though. I take what I want, forcing myself into her again and again.

  Davis is moaning out her pleasure again, unable to contain her voice even for a moment, now. Her voice rises with each thrust, and her lamentations as I pull out are given voice almost as loudly.

  I push into her again, some primal instinct driving me to take a fist-full of her hair and pull her head back. Her back arches away from the bench, but she still cries out in pleasure beneath me.