by Madi Le
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 countered. 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 it, 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.
"Don't stop." The words can barely make it out of her mouth between her moans and her ragged breath, but I don't need to be told.
I move her leg, forcing it up onto the raised floor under the booth, opening her hips more for my movements between them. I didn't think it was possible to drive into her any deeper, but I find the space.
My body cries out with need, every thrust driving me closer and closer to orgasm, bringing me closer to the edge. I drive into her, each thrust seeming to take me deeper than the last, to mark her as mine so that nobody else will ever be able to have her.
A dangerous part of me likes that idea. Likes the idea that nobody after this will ever be able to measure up to me. I take my grip on her hips again and use it to thrust as hard as I can, forcing her body to remember my shape with the power of each thrust.
Her hips stopped moving, but I can still see her hands, ineffectually scrabbling for something to get a grip on, something that will give her some sort of control or context on her surroundings.
I reach down and take that hand in my own, pulling her shoulders back tight. She arches away from the cushion again, her hips pressing back against my invading cock now, a new dimension that I hadn't even considered or imagined.
I can feel her tightening down on me for what feels like the third or fourth time, and where I had thought that Davis was out of energy and couldn't muster the strength to keep fucking the way we had been, she seemed to find something more.
Her body seemed to sense my approaching orgasm, and she seemed to know that any minute now, I would be letting loose an orgasm inside her waiting, fertile womb.
That
thought drives me to thrust into her with renewed vigor, and her body seems to be matching my intensity, meeting each thrust with her hips pushing back, letting a loud 'slap' of flesh-on-flesh ring out every time I take her.
I can feel my body tensing, can feel myself losing the control that lets me keep a steady rhythm. Need begins to overtake my control, forcing me to take each thrust as I can get it.
The rhythm breaks, and now I have nothing more than desire and the sensation that any moment I'll pass over the crest and finally fulfill the nagging need inside me.
One last push inside and my vision goes dark, my eyes forcing themselves shut as a powerful orgasm rips through my body, the two of us still joined as I cum hard, one long potent strand of cum after another shooting into her.
Maybe I shouldn't have done it. I don't care. My body starts to relax, the fire that had taken over my body starting to ebb away. I lean forward to press a kiss against the nape of Davis's neck, laying still there for a moment before pulling out of her.
A drop of cum follows with me, spilling out and onto the floor, just something else I'm going to have to clean up when all this is over.
Davis lays there for a long minute, panting and trying to catch her breath, before turning herself over in the bench.
"That was—"
I smile at her, lazily palming one of her breasts as it pools on her chest. A woman always looks her best on her back, like that. Something stirs deep inside me, a renewed interest that I haven't decided yet whether or not to refuse.
