His Ex’s Little Sister: Insta-Love on the Run, #1

by Bella Love-Wins

  Reid takes the signal. Moving off from my breasts, and without releasing my hands, he lifts his torso up off me, rips open a condom with his teeth, and rolls one on.

  I almost quiver through an orgasm when he grabs my hips and flips me over onto my stomach. Almost. Lifting my ass high in the air, Reid gets behind me, pressing his cock at my center. He bends forward and kisses the spot on my spine between my shoulder blades. That kiss trails up to my neck, and turns into a wicked bite that sends me completely out of my mind. I’m panting heavily, pressing my ass backward, ready to plead for mercy, hoping he’ll take me hard.

  The mercy fuck.

  I ain’t too proud to ask for it right now.

  A whimper leaves my lips when his hand grips into my hair and wraps a handful around his fist. With a long groan, he positions his hardness at my opening. I can’t wait. My hands and knees push into the mattress and I thrust my ass into him as he sinks inside of me.

  Jesus, Mary, and Joseph.

  He’s thick, hard and fills me up.

  I press my eyes shut, willing myself not to come right there and then from with the way his thickness and ample length create pressure against my inner walls, stretching me in every direction as my channel responds by tightening its grip on him.

  He pulls almost all the way out, and I’m on the verge of crying for him to get back inside of me. Thank God he buries into me again, harder this time, gripping one hip to improve the anchor of his other hand in my hair, and still controlling my movements. I can’t crane my head back any further. Hell, I’m sure to lose a few hundred strands on account of this one time.

  One time with Reid.

  Totally. Worth. It.

  After a few reps moving at this slow, deliberate pace, Reid picks up speed. Deeper he goes. And faster, so fast, the sounds overtaking our feral noises are the slapping of our bare skin and the creaking of his bedsprings. His hand on my hip slides closer to my drenched, swollen bud, and covers it completely. He flicks his index finger over my most sensitive spot, and after some intense strumming, it does me in.

  Electrifying jolts of pleasure shock my system, weakening every muscle in my body and sending me into convulsions as I come.

  I cry out so loudly that I’m sure it sounds like I’m being tortured. But I don’t care. Neither does Reid, who continues to piston in and out of me, taking what he needs and giving me the ride of my life. I can’t stop the waves crashing over me even if I try, and when he find his release and stretches out beside me, the only thought in my mind is I. Want. More.

  One time is not enough.

  Closing my eyes, I soak up the satisfying revelry, and bide my time for when he takes me again.

  If.

  I’ve heard about his ‘one and done’ track record, and one time won’t be enough for me anymore.

  I just hope he wants it as much as I do.

  14

  Robin

  One time is not enough for Reid either.

  Maybe the ‘one and done’ reputation he has earned refers to one session, or one night. I don’t know, but I’m glad it’s not over yet.

  I can’t stop my fingers from grasping the cool cotton sheets on Reid’s bed. If I press any harder, I’m sure to rip them. Lifting my head, I glance down my body at his head between my legs. He’s been teasing, pleasing and torturing my clit, my folds and my center for longer than it takes to travel the Vegas Strip. I’ve probably erupted more times than the Old Faithful Geyser. I’m so sensitive now, so tender, and my inner muscles are exhausted. But he’s so good, strumming on me like I’m his own personal instrument.

  Swallowing hard, I relax my head on the pillow. My hands run through his low haircut, wishing there was more to grip on to as he buries his tongue past my folds, lapping hungrily at me. I’m a virtual puddle under his treatment.

  God, I could so get used to this.

  The question—or rather, the certainty—of not being able to have him again knocks around in my head, sobering me up for a split second. After being with him this way, is one day really enough? Or should I be grateful for experiencing such an intense, emotionally rich yet finite sliver of time with him? I imagine I’ll be reliving this day in my head over and over again. It’s sure to be scorched to my short-term and long-term memory.

  I smile.

  This is the kind of sensual experience that can fuel scores of future battery-operated climaxes. The thought is so entertaining, I let out a chuckle.

  Reid looks up. “Care to share what’s so funny?”

  “Not really,” I tell him, and extend my arms in a plea for him to refocus his attention.

  He props himself up on one arm for a few moments, and crawls up to relax beside me. “Get on top,” he rumbles out, folding his arms behind his head. “Before I change my mind and devour you whole, beautiful.”

  I can handle riding this cowboy.

  I hope.

  He’s packing one hell of a big saddle, but I don’t mind a challenge once in a while. With a smile, I stretch one leg over his thighs and place my hands on his stomach. Am I bad for memorializing the moment by taking an extra-long appreciative look at inch by glorifying inch of his package? If I am, so be it.

  My staring must have an effect on Reid, because his cock pulsates and throbs, seeming to swell that much more. His eyes travel from my eyes to my lips, and pauses at my breasts. A hand magically produces a condom and passes it to me. I lick my lips. There should be time for tasting. Maybe later, because he grips his shaft with one hand and points at the condom in my hand with the other.

  Taking some creative liberties from his direction, I shake the wrapper around in my hand, but I don’t open it. Instead, I scoot my hips back, lower my head, and run my tongue around the large, velvety tip. He moans his approval, grabbing the back of my head as an invitation to continue. I relax my jaw and float forward some more, taking in more of him, aware of my core clenching with anticipation. He pumps his hips slightly. I lift and lower some more with some help from his hand fisted in my hair, reveling in the way he responds to me, and in how my body’s need heightens.

  With a moderate tug on my hair, Reid lifts my head completely off of his length. He grabs the condom, rolls it on, and takes hold of my waist. One fluid movement of his arms, and the next second, my folds run along his tip, and it’s now my inner walls lowering down, taking him in, eyes pressed shut, hips rolling of their own accord, and hands on his pecs as he fills me. The urge is strong to sit there for some time and appreciate that full feeling deep in my womb. After a few moments, I can’t not move. I’m too close.

  A few more rolls of my hips drive me over the edge, causing me so much pleasure that I cry out a sound that comes from deep in my diaphragm as I ascend to my climax. It’s so overpowering and all-encompassing, I don’t know which way is up anymore. Reid meets me at my peak somehow, but it seems like it’s happening somewhere so close, yet so far. I can’t think. I’m just matter and bliss rolled into one sweet, wet, convulsing sensation.

  Reid pulls me down to his chest, wraps his arms around me, and in a deep baritone, he whispers, “You are amazing, woman.”

  “You are too,” I pant out, already drifting off into what I’m sure will be a dreamless sleep.

  15

  Reid

  The insistent chirp of something foreign wakes me out of a deep sleep. Believing it’s my alarm clock, I stretch my arm to the night table and smack it hard. It’s my goddamned Blackberry, which I usually have on vibrate. I snatch it up and look at the number.

  It’s Jared.

  Calling at seven in the morning?

  The concept of Jared doing anything before ten a.m. is unheard of. This has to be important. Given that Leo has assigned some of my regular responsibilities to him, I can’t avoid his call.

  “What?” I grumble.

  “Wake the fuck up, son,” Jared tells me. “We’ve got business.”

  “Go ahead.”

  “Not this time. Come and answer your goddamned front door
.”

  “Why the hell are you here?”

  “Are you losing your hearing in your old age? I just said. Business is calling. Chop chop.”

  “I’ll be right there,” I tell him, rolling quietly out of bed so that I don’t wake up Robin. She’s resting soundly, and that’s a good thing. I drag on the closest pair of sweatpants and head down the hall to answer the door.

  “What the hell is this about?” I demand.

  “You wouldn’t be asking me that if you checked the last three emails Geoff sent to us last night.”

  “What are they about?”

  “Did you at least put on some coffee?” He asks with one raised eyebrow. “What the hell kind of host are you, ya wily bastard?”

  “Keep your voice down.” I lead him to the kitchen and point to a chair at the table. “Have a seat. Fill me in on the emails.”

  I start the coffee machine and sit opposite him at the table.

  “Those HR people at Mason Industries sent over a list of seventeen names. It’s not the shortlist we were hoping for, but I think Geoff was able to whittle it down to six names based on a few criteria. I thought I’d run it by you.”

  “What were the criteria?”

  “We started off with the senior managers with access to the Mason farm. Everyone unaffected by the last two years of workforce changes was immediately dropped from the list. Ditto for those affected where HR and the executive approved for their requested transfers. That left seventeen managers. We cut that down some more by looking at location analysis.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Comparing the recent incident dates and times with their workstation computer active usage times. If they were active at their desk computers at the time of the incidents, we took them off the list. Then we dropped a few more based on the distance between their office locations and the incident sites.”

  “Good,” I agree with a nod. “If it’s impossible for them to get from one location to the next, you dropped them.”

  “Exactly. That gets us down to six names.”

  “How many of them are female?”

  “Three.”

  “Drop them from the shortlist for now.”

  “Just like that?”

  “Did the person in the baseball cap look like a woman?”

  “No.”

  “Drop them. Besides, the stats don’t lie. Less than twenty percent of convicted arsonist are female.”

  “Maybe women firebugs are just better at not getting convicted,” he grins out.

  “Focus, kid. Did HR send over the entire employee files?”

  “Not yet. It’ll be couriered over tomorrow.”

  “Make sure they send over photo and staff ID information.”

  “Will do.”

  I tap on the tabletop. “Wait. What are the names of the three men?”

  He checks his Blackberry and scrolls through a file while I get us two steaming cups of coffee. “Wendell Morrison, Davison Walters and Larry Claiborne.”

  “Ages?”

  “Hang on…fifty-four, twenty-seven, and thirty-eight.”

  “Drop the old one.”

  He takes a sip of coffee from his mug and stares at me as he does it. “Seriously? You got something against young people?”

  “Do you see a fifty-four-year-old kicking up a stink over a shitty lateral transfer or demotion? He’d be so close to retirement that he’s more likely to toe the line, not raise hell.”

  “Maybe.”

  “Okay. Get their pictures, and when you do, let me know what you think. And be sure to compare them all to the composites Geoff got from the video feeds.”

  “Will do.”

  I tap on the tabletop. “Anything else?”

  “Just the question of anticipated targets and likelihoods if the arsonist is planning to strike again.”

  “Go on.”

  “There’s a list of potential events, landmarks, and sites,” he tells me.

  “How many?”

  “Forty-seven.”

  “That’s way too many. Sort them by event date, their latest physical security threat-risk assessment results, and by any high-value assets on site. You should be able to get that list down to one or two possible sites per day, if that many. But check the timeframe between each of the prior incidents. Let me know if there’s any pattern.”

  “Okay. I can do that.”

  “And give me a call during business hours. Save the early morning house calls for emergencies.”

  Jared smiles. “There you go, knocking a dude for enthusiasm.”

  “Save it. We both know you just came by to see Robin.”

  “Bullshit,” he grins. “Well maybe. So, where’s the pretty little singer who knocked you down a few pegs the other night?”

  “Mind your own damn business.”

  He raises his Blackberry to his lips. “Why why why Hero,” he sings out in falsetto, eyes closed as he mimics Robin’s song from that first night I saw her.

  “Get the fuck out of my place,” I tell him. I can’t encourage this kid because I won’t hear the end of it.

  He drains his cup of coffee and puts the mug in the sink. “I’ll be back.”

  “No, you ain’t invited.”

  “Stop busting my balls, son,” he tells me as he heads back to the front door. “Tell Robin howdy for me.”

  “Just keep me posted. Get those photos to me ASAP.”

  “Will do. Later.”

  16

  Reid

  We came out to the kitchen to start dinner, but food ends up being the last thing on our minds. Robin’s lips meet mine and everything changes. Is it me or her that has created this need to have more of each other? Is it some type of reverse hero infatuation, one where I fall for her because I’ve helped her out of one too many ordeals?

  Do I even care how this happened?

  I’ll figure that out later.

  For now, I want to enjoy the way her touch makes me crave her more. She crosses her wrists behind my neck, tracing fingers through my hair as she kisses me, which is cut too short for her to tug on. I match her kiss with fierceness, parting her lips, and exploring every contour of her teeth and mouth with my tongue. It’s sure to leave both our lips swollen. Robin lifts up on her tiptoes and grinds against my groin as her breasts rub against my chest. I pick her up by the waist, placing her to sit on the countertop, and with one arm, I pull her legs apart and wedge my body between them.

  Gripping her ass, I jerk her toward me and press her heat against my cock. It’s hard as granite, throbbing and wanting nothing more than to drive into her and feel her tightness around it. I reach my other hand up to the back of her neck, eyes filled with lust, looking on as Robin unwraps the condom and slowly rolls it up my cock. Once it’s in place, she leans her face in toward mine and kisses me again. With a tilt of her hips and a tightening of her crossed ankles, she welcomes me home.

  Robin pulls from our kiss as I sink into her. Her head falls back, her hands hang on to my biceps, and she matches each and every stroke I deliver head on. I lift up her t-shirt to admire her nakedness. As I pound into her, I lower my face to her chest. Latching on to one nipple, I tug it into my mouth, circling the hardening bud with my tongue. She’s whimpering and rolling her hips in response, adding to the pleasure around my shaft, allowing me deeper inside of her, so deep that I don’t think my cock will be content again unless it’s connected with her.

  She whispers a simple plea into my ear, and I smile.

  “More.”

  It turns out that where Robin and I are concerned, more is better. That has never been the case for me with any other woman. But I need to be realistic. She’s here with me temporarily. Eventually, she’ll go to her parents, or find herself a place, and in all likelihood, there will be no more between us. I’ll face that reality when it happens. At the moment, while she rocks her hips and her tight core pulls more of me inside of her, I’ll give her more.

  I move up from her gorgeous breast
s to her collarbone, and to her neck, relishing her response to my every decadent bite on her sweet skin. The moans, the breathy whimpers are almost too much, and when her body tells me she’s about to come, I almost can’t wait to send her to her peak. She relaxes her knees, leans back some more, and snakes one hand down between us until she has two fingers over her clit.

  Fuck.

  The image drives me out of control, and all I can do is piston into her at a punishing pace. Her body begins to quake as we come together. We’re both weak and overflowing with our releases, but Robin reaches up and kisses me hard. We’re far from over.

  I find a reserve of strength to carry her back to the bedroom.

  More is coming.

  Or maybe not.

  Robin moves out of my arms and kicks her legs over the side of the bed. “We shouldn’t have done this.”

  I sit up, looking at her as she collects her clothes. “What? Are you kidding me? Tell me you’re joking, Robin.”

  Glancing over at me for a moment, she pulls the t-shirt over her head and puts on one that’s less wrinkled. “I’m serious. What we did…what we’ve been doing…it’s wrong. You’re my sister’s ex-boyfriend. I can’t anymore, okay?”

  “I don’t see what’s the big deal.”

  “What?” she shouts.

  “It was almost ten years ago. Your sister and I weren’t that serious.”

  “I can’t believe you could say something so hurtful…but maybe this is the real you, huh? Selfish, arrogant and mean-spirited. You didn’t just break her heart, Reid. You killed her spirit and her will to live.”

  “I’m sorry that happened. I couldn’t tell her I was leaving, Robin.”

  She steps into her sweatpants and drags them up her legs in a huff, taking her anger out on her clothes. “Why not?”

  “It’s complicated.”