by Anthology
By Mari Carr
Please enjoy this excerpt from Sparks Fly, Sparks in Texas, book 1. Available now.
“Are you searching for something special, officer?”
The breathless quality of her voice let him know she’d finally caught up with him.
“I need to be sure you aren’t carrying any concealed weapons.”
She looked over her shoulder and gave him a flirty smile. “Oh, I’m packing heat. But you aren’t looking in the right place.”
He fought to restrain a groan. Annie was a master at dirty talk. Then it occurred to him that this fantasy—the cop and his criminal—was one they’d never played out. Which was strange considering his occupation and the fact he had all the right toys.
“Face forward, Ms. Iser. I don’t think you understand the seriousness of this situation.”
Annie held his gaze a few seconds longer before looking away. Her hips wiggled seductively as he moved his “search” lower. He didn’t take the bait. He had a definite strategy for how the night would unfold and it had everything to do with his pretty criminal submitting to his authority.
“Have you been drinking, Ms. Iser?”
She lifted her shoulders casually, unconcerned, unrepentant. “I may have had a glass of wine earlier. It is a holiday, you know.”
Annie wasn’t much of a drinker, even on the holidays, so he wondered about the wine. Was she feeling the same pressure he was? Had she been looking for a way to relax before seeing him again? That thought made his chest ache. He pushed it away. Hopefully, tonight would help them mend the rifts they’d unconsciously let grow.
He reached for her upper arm, dragging her upright and turning her until she faced him. “Drinking and driving?”
“You don’t really expect me to confess to that, do you, officer?”
“Lieutenant.” The mischief in her eyes told him she was purposely refusing to acknowledge his rank. “And I don’t need your confession. I have a breathalyzer.”
She didn’t pretend to be worried. He loved her spunk, the challenge in her posture. She crossed her arms, allowing them to push up her breasts. The move drew his attention to her hard nipples. His mouth watered for a taste of them, but it was far too early for that. If he started taking off her clothes, the game would end too fast.
For months, he’d viewed sex as a chore, the two of them going through the motions with very little passion or foreplay. As he looked at her flushed face, as he watched her chest rise and fall with breathless expectation, he wanted to kick his own ass for forgetting how good it could be between them.
“Don’t I have to consent to the breathalyzer?”
He shook his head. “I’m not giving you a choice.” He cupped her face in his hands, pulling her closer. “Are you ready?”
He didn’t give her a chance to respond before placing his lips on hers. He pressed them open, touching his tongue to hers. He couldn’t detect even the faintest hint of wine on her breath. Regardless, he kept kissing her, tasting and breathing her air. Evan didn’t need alcohol. He could get drunk on Annie.
Finally, after several minutes, he forced himself to release her, working overtime to maintain control, to stay in character. “You realize you’re in quite a bit of trouble, Ms. Iser.”
She feigned a contrite smile that didn’t fool him for a minute. “Maybe there’s some way I can convince you to forget all this and let me off with a warning?”
He narrowed his eyes. “Are you attempting to bribe a police officer?”
She reached out to run her hand along his chest, toying suggestively with his badge. “I didn’t say anything about a bribe.”
He moved so quickly she didn’t have time to counter or retreat. Evan turned her toward the car, grasping her wrists and tugging them behind her back. She had just begun to struggle when he slapped on the handcuffs. Then he bent over her, pressing her against the hood of the car, letting her helplessness sink in.
“What did you have in mind?” he murmured in her ear.
He’d taken her off-guard. It took her a few moments to regroup.
“I…” She swallowed heavily when he ground his cock more firmly against her ass. “I…” She paused again. Finally she said, “What do you want?”
Evan chuckled. Annie was rarely at a loss for words. It felt good to shake up the self-assured woman. “I want it all, Ms. Iser. Your total submission. For the entire night.”
About Mari Carr
A New York Times and USA TODAY bestseller, Mari Carr writes contemporary erotic romance novels. To learn more about her spicy stories, click here.
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Confessions of a Sexaholic
J.S. Cooper
Copyright © 2015 by J. S. Cooper
This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is entirely coincidental. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
Confessions of a Sexaholic was published on my blog as The True Diary of That Girl.
Prologue
Life isn’t easy. Love isn’t easy. Fairy tales are books we read to children. Romance novels are books that make teenagers dream of love and happily ever afters. I’m here to tell you my story. This is my diary. This is my life. This is my truth. You can’t make this shit up.
Chapter One
I’m not going to say my name, just in case this diary is found by someone. You can just call me ‘that girl’ like everyone else in my life. Well, not everyone else, but a lot of people in my town. When I was younger, I was the girl everyone felt sorry for. Now, I’m just the girl everyone whispers about in the streets. Only they don’t even know me. My best friend, Natasha, thinks it’s ironic that so many women judge me and think they’re better than I am. If they only knew the real me, they wouldn’t be smirking quite so much.
First off, you should know that I don’t care about anyone other than my best friend, Natasha, my other best friend, Tom, and my dog, Lulu the Great (even though she’s not that great). You might be surprised to hear that I have a boyfriend. A very handsome and very rich boyfriend. He pays for my apartment. A luxury apartment in the city. It costs about $4,000 a month in rent. I know that because I get a kickback of $2,000 a month from the landlord. Don’t ask me why or how. We don’t know each other well enough for me to be divulging all my secrets.
I suppose you want to know my boyfriend’s name? I can give you his first name, but if I give you his last name as well, you may figure out who he is. And I can’t have that.
Aiden is his name. Yes, like Aiden from Sex and the City, a show I loved. I always thought Carrie should have chosen Aiden as opposed to Mr. Big, but what do I know? I’m not really an expert in love. Aiden is thirty-three, and he has short, dark-brown hair and green eyes. I think he’s Irish-Italian, with his name coming from his Irish roots and his naturally tan skin coming from his Italian side. He calls it olive skin; I say tan. Olives are green and black. He’s neither of those.
I told you before that he’s hot, right? He looks like Tom Cruise’s taller and handsomer brother. The other plus is that he’s good in bed. And when I say good, I mean flip-me-over-and-do-me-again good. I never have to say no to him. I should say I never want to say no to him. It would be a perfect relationship—if things were different.
Natasha thinks that Aiden is a jerk, and Tom thinks that he’s not good enough for me. They’re both right, of course, but I don’t care. I get what I want from him. Even if it’s not a love connection. I don’t really believe in true love. I mean, how can one man and one woman fall in love and spend the rest of their lives together? I’ve never seen it work. Not once. I don’t know any happily married couples.
Natasha thinks I’m jaded. I
know, I know. I talk about Natasha a lot. She’s important to me. She’s what I call a true friend. She’s one of those friends who makes you feel like you’ve won something in life. She’s the real deal: genuine, compassionate, non-judgmental, and always there for me.
Most people would assume that she is some loser to put up with me. But Natasha is probably the best person you could ever meet. She’s beautiful, as in Hollywood beautiful, with long, blond hair, blue-green eyes, a tiny waist, and a sweet smile. She’s also brilliantly smart. She has a college degree from an Ivy League university and works as a pharmacist at a local drugstore. She’s also married to her college boyfriend, Brad. I don’t like him very much, so I’m not going to dwell on him.
Natasha and I are both twenty-five. We’ve been friends since preschool and she’s never dropped or judged me. Not even when she went to her fancy school and I went somewhere else. We talk every day and she knows everything about me. Well, almost everything.
Tom is my other best friend. He’s that guy every girl should have in their lives. He can fix things and be a listening ear when I need one. He gives me the male perspective whenever I need one. Oh, and he used to be my lover. Well, not just used to. We’re still friends with benefits. But that’s between us.
That’s one of the things Natasha doesn’t know. It’s not like it’s every week or even every month. Just sometimes when I need someone to hold me. I call him and he comes over. And his coming over usually leads to sex. Hot, passionate, no-holds-barred sex.
Don’t judge me. I know it looks bad that I have my friend come over and fuck me in the apartment my boyfriend pays for. I never said I was a good girl. I don’t think you could go through the things I have in life and be a good girl.
Tom’s handsome as well, with his black hair and hazel eyes. He’s not very successful, though. He’s a writer. And I guess writing doesn’t pay that well. But he loves it and I suppose that’s all that matters. To him, anyways. I could never be with a guy who couldn’t afford me the finer things in life. What can I say? I’ve done poor. I don’t want to do it again.
And then there’s me. I already told you that I won’t tell you my name. But you can know what I look like. I’m above average height, about five eight to be exact. I’m slender, with long, black hair, big, brown eyes, and voluptuous boobs that may or may not be natural. I’m what men call an exotic beauty. I don’t know why, exactly. I’m not from anywhere special. I grew up in the Midwest. But I suppose what a handsome man wants to call you is his business. If they have money and are good in bed, I don’t care.
I suppose you think I’m a slut? I’m not, but I’ve heard that before. Usually from jealous women. But what can I say? I love sex. Is there any other activity that can make your body shudder with the most exquisite pleasure known to mankind for free? I think not. Sex is like free chocolate every day of your life that doesn’t make you fat. In fact, it makes you skinnier. How cool is that?
Wow, I’ve been really talkative today. Usually I like to keep to myself, but today I’m feeling like putting it all out there. Sometimes I think my life is a Lifetime movie. I mean, that’s how it feels. Like my first lover—let me tell you more about him.
The first time I had sex, I was eighteen years old and a senior in high school. His name was Andrew. I wasn’t always a good student in high school and my grades reflected that even though I never failed a class. However, I nearly failed chemistry. I just didn’t understand or care. How was I supposed to remember the periodic table? Hydrogen, helium, lithium—say what? Neutrons, electrons, atoms. I mean, really? When the teacher started saying that the air was made up of tiny atoms, he lost me. I couldn’t see shit, and if I can’t see it, I don’t believe it.
So, one afternoon, the teacher told me to wait after school. He said, “You’re going to fail this class and you’re going to have to repeat it.” Which meant I wouldn’t graduate on time. I thought my world was about to end.
This is the point where I’m guessing you think I’m going to say that Andrew was a cute boy in my class and he offered to tutor me and I ended up getting an A. If this was a cutesy piece of fiction, that’s most probably how this story would go. However, this is my life, and as you should know by now, my life isn’t cutesy. I did end up getting an A in the class and I did graduate on time, but that was because Andrew was my teacher and I gave him an offer he couldn’t refuse.
The Offer
“Mr. Matthews, can I speak to you after class?” I asked him, batting my eyelashes.
“Sure.” He glanced at me with a stern expression.
“Thank you.” I smiled back with my most seductive expression and spread my legs slowly.
Andrew’s eyes widened as he realized I didn’t have any panties on under my skirt.
“No problem.” His face looked flushed as he looked away.
I grinned to myself as I saw him peeking at me every couple of minutes. He stumbled and bumbled through class, and he was positively squirming when the bell rang.
“How can I help you, Ms. X?” he asked me once everyone had left the room.
“I’m having trouble understanding the assignments, Mr. Matthews.” I walked to his desk, swinging my hips slowly and pushing my breasts out. I heard him gasp as he realized that he could see my nipples through my white top. I’d pulled my bra off and put it in my bag as the other students exited the room.
“How can I help you understand?”
“I don’t know if I’m ever going to get it!” I pouted and walked over to stand next to him. “I just feel like I’m never going to be good at chemistry.” I brushed my chest against his arms, and he jumped back.
“Maybe you can get a tutor?” He looked at me warily.
“Would you be my tutor?” I gazed up at him with wide eyes. “Please?”
“I don’t know.” He gazed down at me and swallowed hard.
“Please, Mr. Matthews.” I grabbed his hand then and brought it up to my right breast. His eyes widened as he realized what I was doing. “I think we’d both benefit from you being my tutor.”
He stood there for a second and mumbled something before pulling his hand away.
“There are many things I want you to teach me, Andrew.” I breathed softly and tried again.
This time, I grabbed his hand and lifted my skirt up. I placed his hand in between my legs and rubbed his fingers gently across my wetness. He breathed in sharply and his eyes widened.
“What are you doing?” he asked me sharply, but he didn’t remove his fingers away.
“I just want to pass the class, Mr. Matthews.” I licked my lips slowly and closed my legs together.
“I don’t know what you expect me to do.” He stared back at me with confusion in his face. I knew that he had mixed emotions about what was going on.
“I think you do.” I leaned up and kissed him. “I think you do.”
“Shit.” He groaned, and I felt one of his fingers entering me.
I grinned against his mouth then. That was when I knew I had won. I was going to graduate and I didn’t have to worry about my stupid chemistry class anymore.
I suppose you think that what I did was cheap and wrong. But you’re the one who’s wrong. Andrew was a great first lover, and it was exhilarating finding new ways to have sex in school. If you only knew half of the things we did. We even had sex during class one day. I’m sure you’re trying to figure out how that happened. Maybe one day I’ll tell you.
However, this diary isn’t about Andrew and our crazy sexual adventure. This diary is about me and my crazy life. It’s about all the things I did that I can’t deny. It’s not pretty, but it’s all true. Aside from one thing. I lied about Aiden’s age. He’s not thirty-three. He’s a bit older than that. But that didn’t matter to me.
Not until that one day. Because that one day, I met a guy who seemed to see right through my soul. His name was Dominic. And Dominic was to be the undoing of me. You see, he was to become the first man I fell in love with. Only, falling in
love doesn’t always mean rainbows and butterflies. This is the true story of my life and how love changed everything!
Chapter Two
If you didn’t already realize it, I like to have fun. Clean fun, dirty fun—I don’t care. I figure I might as well live my life to the fullest. That’s one thing Aiden likes about me. I’m not all over him like some desperate whore. And yeah, I said ‘likes’ and not ‘loves.’ I’m pretty sure Aiden doesn’t love me. Well, aside from every Saturday night when I say yes to whatever he wants to do. And he likes to do a lot.
Last weekend, he brought over a gag. It was different. I can’t say that it was my favorite. I’m not really a BDSM girl, but I do what he wants. He knows better than to whip me, though I’m always down for a good spanking. Some of my best orgasms have been after he’s spanked me. I actually have a pretty good story about one of the hottest times he spanked me. I’ll tell you if you promise not to judge me. I’ve already told you that I’m not a good girl.
The Best Spanking of My Life
“Tom, you have to leave.” I tried pushing him through the door. “Now is not a good time.”
“But I need some of your sweet loving.” He grinned as his fingers found my butt and pushed me towards him.
“Not tonight.” I shook my head. “Come over tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow’s Sunday. You know that I like to go to Central Park and write on Sundays.”
“Then come over on Monday.”
“I don’t want to.” He leaned forward and kissed me.
Once his lips hit mine again, I couldn’t resist. Tom always tasted like home. I’m not sure why, but once he kissed me, I was putty in his hands.
“Tom,” I groaned as he lifted my top up. “What are you doing?”
