The Blue Collar Bachelors Box Set: The Complete Blue Collar Bachelors Series

by Miller, Cassie-Ann L.

  He whispers things into my ear. Words that make me dizzy and eager. Words that make me thrum.

  Now he’s spinning me to face him. Kissing me hard. Picking me up and setting me on the counter. His calloused thumb is flicking against my nipple in warm, tiny loops.

  “Clinton…” I whisper his name as I close my eyes and throw my head back, giving him access to my neck. His lips skim my flesh, so soft that I frisson. His hand slides between my legs. The gentle caress contrasts with the rough grate of his stubble across my cheek, sending a flare of pleasure into my blood.

  On first glance, he doesn’t seem like a man who’d be capable of tenderness. He looks hard and demanding—and he is, when the moment calls for it—but I’m getting a first-class trip to the side of him that’s gentle, patient and skilled in the art of supplying pleasure.

  When I open my eyes, he’s staring at me, something so soft and adoring in his gaze. It holds me captive. I can’t look away. His thumb circles my clit before sliding across my wet, throbbing folds. “Let me inside, Vivian. Let me all the way in.” My heart can hear the many layers to that request.

  Instantly, I spread my thighs wider and two fingers plunge into my channel. But I know that what he really wants is access to my heart. He wants me to hand it over to him completely. To entrust it to him. I’m not half as scared as I should be because even though this man is nothing like the mate I spent so many lonely nights painting in my mind and scribbling into the pages of my many journals, I just know that Clinton is exactly who I need. He opens the parts of me that I’ve been too scared to face. He sees the vulnerabilities under my polished finish. And he takes me the way I am with no expectation that I’ll become something else. That’s ultimately all I’ve ever really needed.

  His fingertips brush my chin, pulling me from my thoughts. “Hey,” he whispers, his eyes searching mine. “I’m losing you.”

  “I’m right here,” I promise quietly. My hands clamp down on his cheeks and I close my eyes when our lips touch. The sensations in my body ratchet up until they’re nearly unbearable. He works his fingers in my tunnel as his thumb brushes my clit with increasing pressure. My body responds by tightening. My breathing goes erratic.

  Clinton pulls back to look at my face. “You want to come, Sunflower?” My walls clamp down on his fingers at the pure masculine grit in his tone. “Tell me you want to come, Vivian.”

  I’m begging him, pleading with him as my spine arches. “Please. I want to come.” I squeeze my eyes shut against the glare of the overhead lights as my head tilts back. His fingers become frantic. With each thrust, the heel of his hand grinds into my clit. My restraint is slipping, my defenses are coming apart.

  The orgasm bombards my system, causing light explosions to flare behind my eyes and guttural exclamations to burst out of my mouth. My thighs clench violently and my calves lock behind his back. He doesn’t seem to mind being hostage to my pleasure. He works tirelessly to deliver it.

  One of his strong arms holds me up while the other continues to strum my clit, playing me like a somber guitar riff until my body begins to quiet. The explosions die down and all that’s left are the fumes.

  I collapse into his embrace and wrap my arms tight around him as I struggle to find my breath.

  He tries to lean back and watch me but I refuse to move my head from his neck. Confusion riots in my mind as I try to figure out who the hell I’m becoming. I don’t know this girl. This girl who gets fingered on the counter and begs for it shamelessly and howls so hard at the climax that the cabinet windows shake.

  Sex isn’t something you do in the kitchen next to a wedge of artisanal cheddar. It’s something you do under the covers with the lights off, keeping your whimpers to a reasonable volume. Loud enough so that he knows you appreciate his efforts but definitely not loud enough to vibrate the walls, not loud enough to wake the whole damn neighborhood.

  Clinton seems to sense my inner conflict but he says nothing. He just scoops me into his arms and carries me into my bedroom.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Clinton

  I put her down in the center of the bed and step back to admire her gorgeous body. There’s a devious feeling in my chest. I feel like I’ve pulled off a great heist. I feel like a pirate and she’s my bounty, the prize I’m ready to claim for good. This beautiful, captivating woman spread out here for me to explore and discover layer by layer.

  Soft curtains flutter over the window and moonlight peeks through the sheer fabric, casting a glow on the rich, wood furniture, the abstract artwork, the plush floral bedding. This is the room where a prince should be making love to this princess. Instead, it’s me, the bandit, here to corrupt her, to ruin her, to fuck the properness right out of her.

  I read her expression like a book. She’s anxious but willing. Not just starving for another earth-tilting orgasm, she’s famished for the connection. Her hunger matches mine.

  The world gets Vivian Hartley, all perfect and put-together, not a thread untucked, not a hair out of place. I get the Vivian that's wild, messy, vulnerable. The Vivian who's slowly discovering her true self and falling in love with her findings, piece by piece. The Vivian who's unsure but willing to try. And I wouldn't have it any other way.

  I climb onto the bed and crawl over her. I suck hard on her delicate skin, licking and biting my way down her torso, stroking her breasts. She moans with abandon, completely entrusting her body to me…until my lips swipe across her pelvis. That’s when she bolts upright. She yelps and squeezes her legs together as she pushes me away.

  “What’s wrong?” My body is bursting with the need to taste her, to lose my tongue in her wet cunt. She can’t be about to turn me away. She can’t deny me the one thing I want more than anything right now.

  She pulls the sheets over her lap. Something is bothering her. She looks self-conscious and embarrassed.

  “Hey Viv? Are you okay?”

  She seems to be shrinking before my eyes. “I—I’d just prefer it if you didn’t…y’know…lick me there.”

  “Why?” I’m absolutely confused right now. The women I know love to be tasted between the thighs. Before Vivian, I’d never met a woman who said no to that. I can’t wrap my mind around the fact that she’s refusing, yet again, to let me go there.

  Her head snaps up and she glares at me. “I don’t wanna talk about it. Can we just have sex and get it over with?”

  My brow jerks up and now I’m really curious. I drop down onto the mattress and sit next to her. “We’re not gonna ‘have sex and get it over with’. If you’re not one hundred percent into it, we’re not doing it.” I reach over and grab her hand as it knots in the sheet. She gives me a hard look but I won’t back down. I want to know what her deal is. I choose my words carefully. “Did you have a bad experience with that? Or did someone…hurt you that way?” My stomach goes tight as I question her.

  “No, no.” She shakes her head vigorously. “No one hurt me. It’s just…” Her eyes turn to me, full of vulnerability and uncertainty. Her voice drops to a whisper. “I’m…I’m graying down there.” She cringes harshly and turns her face away.

  “You’re what?” I’m not sure I heard her right.

  “I’m graying…in my pubes…” She chews down on her bottom lip, refusing to meet my eyes.

  “I don’t understand.”

  Her head snaps over to me and she gives me a deadly look. “Do not make me repeat myself, Clinton.”

  “Jesus Christ.” I drop back onto the mattress and draw my palms down my face. I need a second to figure out how to handle this.

  The sheets fall to the floor as Vivian climbs out of the bed and starts rummaging through her drawers. “You know what?” she seethes as she grabs a big t-shirt and pulls it over her head. “You can just leave. If you don’t want what I have to offer, if my gray hair turns you off, you can just leave. I don’t want you to feel obligated—”

  Fighting against the laugh locked in my throat, I roll across the bed and ca
tch her by the hips. “Come back to bed.”

  “No!”

  “Come back to bed, Vivian.”

  “No. I won’t let you have sex with me out of pity.”

  I yank her down onto the mattress and climb on top of her. “Shut up, Vivian. Close your face.”

  Her tension and agitation take up the whole room. “Don’t talk to me like—”

  God, she just won’t stop. I shut her the hell up with a kiss. Deep and stirring. I stroke my tongue into the depths of her mouth, my nerve endings overwhelmed by the softness and warmth of her. As I work my lips over hers, her muscles slowly begin to relax. She stops fighting me and instead, she gives in. Her arms go around my neck and she sighs in surrender. I kiss her until she’s desperate and struggling for air.

  I pull away and her big, dark eyes consume me. "So, you've got some salty strands in the bush. Big fucking deal."

  "Clinton..." she says in warning, her nostrils twitching with a restrained laugh.

  I tug playfully on the hem of her shirt. "You’re beautiful, Vivian. Absolutely gorgeous. I adore you. I adore every inch of you.” I brush my lips over the fine lines at the corners of her eyes and the little wrinkle bracketing her mouth. “I wouldn’t change a thing about you.” She gasps and her eyes get watery. But if she’s gonna cry, I want her crying out in pleasure. I fall onto my back and pull her on top of me. “Bring that snow-covered pussy over here. Let me lick it good." I tap her butt, nudging her to bring her pelvis toward my face.

  Thankfully, she doesn’t fight me. She just giggles as she scoots across the bed until her pretty cunt is mere inches from my mouth. Leaning up, I’m greedy to suck her clit into my mouth. A hoarse sound pours out of her and her knees waver. I cup her ass cheeks in my palms, propping her up as I drag my teeth along the sensitive bud. God, this is heaven. I’m almost mad that she tried to deprive me of this all in the name of some stupid insecurities. When I’m done with her tonight, she’ll never doubt her beauty again.

  "I knew you'd have one of those thick, meaty clits." She gasps. I look up into her face and find her absolutely horrified and offended by my words. I just give her a crooked grin and twirl my tongue around the chubby button. “Mmm. I’m definitely not complaining. All the better to eat you, my love.” Her eyes zip shut and she moans.

  Soft stabs of my tongue into her folds make her moan. I suck her swollen lips as her juices coat my mouth and I stroke my thumb on her clit in slow circles. I kiss her pussy until her legs are trembling and she’s going tense above me. She falls forward and buries her face in the mattress. That muffles her desperate screams. The orgasm shakes her thoroughly, assaulting her defenses until she topples over on her side, legs tangled around my head. She struggles for breath.

  I move up the bed so I’m lying beside her. I watch her beautiful, tortured face as the waves subside and a deep satisfied grin curves her lips. I kiss her softly but she wants more.

  She pulls me on top of her, her body telling me that she wants me inside. I struggle with my belt and finally push my pants down my legs without breaking the kiss. She reaches for my shirt, undoing the buttons and tearing it down my shoulders.

  And now, I’m hovering above her, our eyes locked on each other. There’s something powerful about the moment. It’s a sensation I’ve never felt before. For a moment, I imagine what it would be like to give this woman a baby. What life would be like as her husband. What it would feel like to be the type of father I never had. My stomach twists itself into a knot as I come to grips with how much I want that.

  My gaze moves to the box of condoms on the floor in the mix of sex toys. Vivian looks at it, too. Then, our eyes lock yet again.

  She reaches between us and takes hold of my stiff, throbbing cock. She positions it at her entrance and lifts her hips, swallowing me into her wet, sweltering heat. Her moan is a little blessing, designed for my ears only.

  In that moment, my knees go weak. My breathing hitches. It’s a small gesture but an enormous show of trust. She trusts me. She just let me all the way inside. It’s a gift I intend to cherish.

  I move inside of her, thrusting deep and slow, enjoying the feel of her. Every little ripple, every wet gush. I'm addicted to the subtle nuances in her expression each time I change the angle and the way her breath stilts when I lean forward to kiss her neck and the grip of her fingers curled around my biceps like she's begging me to stay inside of her forever.

  "I'm falling for you..." She almost sounds afraid when she whispers it. She looks at me with big eyes, holding her breath for my reaction like she expects me to respond with something cruel.

  This is all happening so fast. In the back of my mind I'm thinking that this woman is crazy. How could this be love? We don’t even know each other. A few days ago, we didn’t even like each other...but fuck it, 'cause I'm crazy, too.

  I trap her earlobe between my teeth. I hear myself saying words I never thought I'd say. "I beat you to it, Sunflower. I'm already there."

  Her light breath breezes over my skin as she laughs. She holds me tighter because now she knows for sure that I'm hers. And she’s mine.

  I'm pumping faster now, taking full control of her body. I plan on keeping her for good and every hard, rough thrust is my bond, a promise. I get so lost in her adoring gaze, so lost in her body that nearly fall over the cliff headfirst as she clenches beneath me. I catch myself just in time.

  “Turn over,” I rasp, my self-control holding on by a thread.

  She blinks up at me, eyes full of hesitation. “What…?”

  “Turn over. On your stomach. Ass in the air.” My voice is low, firm, unyielding. I reach for the bottle of lube on the floor and squeeze a dollop into my hand. Her eyes follow my movements as I smooth the slick gel down my cock.

  She whimpers, hesitating but I hold her gaze, letting her know I’m serious. I have every intention of shattering every one of her inhibitions. Tonight. When I’m done with her, she won’t ever doubt how much of a woman she is, she won’t doubt the fire inside of her and she definitely won’t forget that I’m the man to tear her free of her self-imposed chains.

  In a heartbeat, she’s on her belly, staring at me over her shoulder. My open palm collides softly with her meaty globe and I watch the sexy way the weight jiggles. Fucking gorgeous…With a half-grin, I squirt more gel into my palm and slick it up the crease of her ass. She breathes hard and fast. I drag the tip of my cock through her hot, drenched folds and press it against the pucker of her anus. “Vivian—I’m gonna take this hole, I’m gonna claim it. Tell me you want that.”

  She doesn’t pause. “I want that, Clint. Please take it.”

  Shit. I think I’m gonna lose my mind. I ease in slowly, bit by bit, getting her accustomed to the strain of my girth in that tiny hole. I massage her breasts, each one in turn, and stroke her clit, delivering continuous pleasure to void any trace of discomfort. She moans for me, rocking into the stunning mix of pain and pleasure.

  So tight. So hot. The sensation quickly becomes too much for me. “Fuck, I can’t hold out any longer.”

  She reaches behind her and pulls my face close to hers. “Come inside of me, Clint. I want your cum inside of me.” The way she slides her lips over mine and kisses me softly, I have no choice. My load shoots into the depths of her and she trembles, sighing my name as she hits her peak.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Vivian

  I feel the blistering sting of disappointment when I blink my eyes open the next morning. Although the tender, aching muscles between my thighs scream ‘Clinton Alvarez was here’, the other side of my bed is empty. He’s gone.

  But strangely, I don’t lurch into panic mode or sink into despair. He’ll be back. I know he will. Because last night was unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. Every moment we shared was real. Every word we spoke was the truth. From the secrets he shared with me in the alley to the way he touched me in my bed. That man is mine. I’ve never been more certain of anything.

  Smiling softly,
I stretch my arm across the linens and trace my fingers over the rumpled sheets where he slept. I inhale his virile scent in the pillow he used. I miss him already, so much.

  When I hear the familiar ceramic clatter of dishes coming from the kitchen, my heart starts walloping against my ribs. Maybe he isn’t gone after all. I climb out of bed and pull on a little T-shirt, then stick my head out the bedroom door. I catch sight of a strong, tattooed back hunched over the stove. My lips stretch on a wide smile. Tiptoeing across the hardwood floor, I surprise him, wrapping my arms around his waist.

  But he’s way too cool to startle. Obviously. Instead, he grabs my wrist and brings my hand to his mouth, setting a kiss on the back of my hand. “Good morning.” His voice is low and gravelly with sleep and sexy as all hell.

  “Good morning.” I peer around his back to catch a glimpse of what could be so riveting in front of him. It’s his cellphone sitting on the counter next to an empty egg carton and a bunch of chopped vegetables. He squints his eyes to read the screen. A recipe of some kind. “What are you making?” I ask with a little giggle. From the looks of the impressive spread on the counter, it seems like something fancy.

  He throws me a glance but when his eyes snag on my nipples poking against the fabric of my T-shirt, I get his full attention. He turns to face me. “I was going to make you breakfast in bed.” His gaze is transfixed on my breasts as brushes the pad of his finger over my left nipple. I feel the light touch between my thighs. “But you’re not in bed anymore, it seems.” He dips his head and sucks a mouthful of my breast between his lips. God, he’s a savage.

  I moan, pressing my chest into his mouth. I’m shameless about it. Everything he does to me feels good.

  He smiles slyly to himself as he picks up a fork and turns back to the eggs.