by Maren Smith
She groaned but ran off with a laugh, her soul light. She was happy. Safe.
Loved.
The End
For more by Laylah Roberts, please click here.
The Signing
Maggie Ryan
About the Author
Maggie Ryan is a USA TODAY bestselling multi-published and Amazon Top 100 bestselling author. She loves to flirt with the forbidden and brings you stories that are always sweet, extra spicy, and a little taboo. She writes about strong, stern alpha males and sassy, capable women who discover that life without a bit of fire isn’t worth living. Maggie hopes you will curl up in your favorite chair and take the journey with her. Happy Reading!
Connect with Maggie: Amazon
Copyright © 2020 by Maggie Ryan and Red Hot Romance, Inc.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including, but not limited to, photocopying or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the author.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, places, locales, and events are either a product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, places, and events are purely coincidental.
Chapter One
Savannah
Naughty.
That’s what this was… what I was.
I was the proverbial “good girl” and yet here I was not only being naughty, but actually breaking the law. Granted, it was just a little law. I mean, they wouldn’t actually put me in jail for ignoring a sign, right? Besides, I was sure any respectable judge would agree that the sign was not only pretty miniscule, it was fairly well-hidden beneath the tangle of ivy that we were flattening with every step.
“Careful, watch the flowers.”
I didn’t step quite high enough, my sandaled foot brushing across a huge blossom made up of hundreds of thin petals, their silky texture soft against my ankle. Thank goodness the iridescent blooms of pink and lilac were stronger than they appeared, settling again as we passed. I released the breath I’d held until I was sure the only evidence of our disturbance was the aroma released to join the other floral scents surrounding us on all sides.
“Do you know if it’s possible to get a DNA sample off the petals of a hydrangea bush?” I asked as I stepped far more gingerly.
“What?” Jackson looked puzzled as his head turned to look behind at the beds we’d just walked through.
“DNA… ow! Hold on.” I hopped on one foot while shaking the other to dislodge a twig that had become caught up in my sandal. “You know, I’m pretty sure it’s against the law to go off the trails,” I said as we made our way through the blossom-laden bushes only to cross the gravel path and step into another bed, this one planted with lilies depicting every color of a rainbow.
A deep chuckle was all I got in return for my attempt at rehabilitation from criminal to nature enthusiast. Well, that and a firmer tug on my hand as he led me deeper into the gardens. Looking down to make sure I didn’t murder some poor rare specimen, I shook my head. Forget DNA, my footsteps and his were easily discernible in the thick loamy soil.
“Where are we going? Are we lost?”
This time I got a look with a raised eyebrow before he shook his head. “Of course we’re not lost.”
“Right. How silly of me to ask,” I said, rolling my eyes. “I forgot that Y chromosome you were born with gives you some innate sense of direction so you never need to consult a map, or perhaps actually take one of those free maps back at the entrance.”
“Has nothing to do with being male,” he said, turning to lift me to stand on top of a small rock wall. “And everything to do with being an Eagle Scout.”
“Oh,” I said, feeling properly chagrined. “Still, you never did say where we are going.”
“You’re right, I didn’t.”
I prompted, “Sooo…”
“So, how about you stop worrying and just enjoy the journey?” he suggested, leaning down to press his lips against mine.
The kiss was nice, but what sort of answer was that? Not one, that’s what sort. The only thing that response did was have a song popping into my head. Deciding to take his advice and throw my cares to the wind, I started to hum as I hopped off the wall, earning another chuckle.
“What’s so funny?”
“You are,” he said, pulling me close to give me a hug. “I was thinking more Bobby McFerrin and you are singing along with Pumbaa.”
“Don’t you mean Bob Marley?” I asked, before his last words caught up with my brain. Pushing away from his side, I slapped at his arm. “Hey, I’m not a smelly warthog!”
“Of course you’re not,” he said with a grin that never failed to make my heart skip a beat. “You are more like Timon. Tiny, sassy, and”—his head dipped to mine and he inhaled deeply—”smell far sweeter.” The words were spoken into my ear right before his teeth captured my earlobe, nipping just enough to have me shudder. Pulling up, he added, “And while people associate the lyrics with Marley, they are wrong as he died seven years before McFerrin even wrote the song.”
I was always up for learning something new, but was also far more interested in the here and now at the moment. Looking around, I realized this park covered far more acreage than I’d imagined. Trees planted about every twenty feet or so along the pathways had grown into giants. Branches were thick and plentiful, arching to join those of the oaks on the other side, forming a thick canopy above our heads. The leafy cover provided blessed shade from the intensity of the sun that was high overhead in a cloudless sky.
The sound of running water was barely audible beneath the chitter of birds, but served to enhance the serenity of our surroundings. “It’s so peaceful you’d never know we’re just a few miles from downtown,” I said softly. “I haven’t been here since we went on a field trip when I was in elementary school.” Spying the distinctive red with tiny black dots of a ladybug landing on a frond of a huge fern, I gestured to it and smiled. “I remember screaming when that horrid Danny Green threw a worm at me.”
“Danny just wanted your attention,” he said, reaching over to allow the insect to crawl onto his finger. “You can’t fault the poor guy. You were just too young to know he was flirting with you.”
“Hmmmph,” I said with a shudder. “All I know was that it was gross when it landed on my arm.”
He grinned as he slowly brought his hand toward me. Delighted, I lifted mine, and watched as the ladybug explored my palm before its wings fluttered and it took flight, disappearing into the greenery surrounding us.
“You’re a far better flirt than Danny,” I said, giving him a smile as we continued walking. “This place really is beautiful. I feel like I’m in the Garden of Eden.”
“Just call me Adam,” he said, reaching to pull me closer to stand in front of him. “Close your eyes,” he instructed and once I had, I gave a little yelp of surprise.
“Relax, I’ve got you,” he said then began to walk forward, forcing me to go backwards until I was pressed up against something hard. “You may open your eyes.”
When I did, it was to discover he’d walked us beneath the draping limbs of a weeping willow tree. The branches swept the ground which was dappled with the sunlight that made its way through the greenery surrounding us. Once I returned my gaze to his, it was to catch my breath at the look in his eyes as he captured both my wrists in one of his hands, lifting them high above my head, pinning them to the bark.
“And that, little girl, makes you my Eve,” he added, the words murmured against the side of my neck as his free hand slid beneath my t-shirt, his deft fingers unfastening the front closure of my bra and pushing the cups aside in order to palm the entirety of my breast.
“Don’t lower your arms,” he said as he released my wrists.
“Jac…”
“Adam,” he corrected, pushing my shirt up until I could feel the breeze brush across my
flesh, yet he didn’t stop there. “Open,” he instructed, and when I opened my mouth, he tucked the hem of my shirt inside. “Don’t drop it.”
My eyes darted from side to side. Despite the shelter of the thin branches providing the illusion of privacy, I could see through them with the stir of every breeze.
“People will see!” I said, the fabric dropping from my lips as I began to lower my arms. “Ow!” I looked down as if to confirm the fact that he’d just flicked my nipple—hard. The only evidence I saw was my nipple protruding hugely as if to ask for another strike, its twin just as traitorous, both puckering even more tightly.
“Drop your arms or your shirt again, and, little girl, they are far more likely to hear you,” he informed me.
Little girl? I didn’t have a chance to question the address before he was lifting my shirt again toward my mouth. “Oh… God,” I mewled in feeble protest.
Jackson shook his head, the dimples in his cheeks joining that damn smirk. “Nope, not God either, but since you can’t seem to remember my name, you may call me Daddy.”
Daddy? What in the hell was going on, and why did I feel another drop of cream joining those already present in the gusset of my panties? Those questions flew right out of my head after he’d tucked the t-shirt back into my mouth and had unbuttoned my shorts. The sound of my zipper lowering had me mewling again, and as he started to tug the denim down over my hips, dragging my lilac thong along with it, my fingernails began to dig into the bark above me.
Naughty?
This was so beyond naughty that I was sure no matter the skill of any lawyer or tolerance of any judge, I’d find my ass in jail if he was about to do what I suddenly feared.
Feared? Who was I kidding? I rather doubted the arresting officer would believe me if I attempted to declare that the t-shirt stuffed in my mouth had kept me from effectively protesting as I was basically stripped naked. He was far more likely to place a checkmark in the little box beside the word perjury on the official police report the moment he saw the condition of my panties. My pussy would serve as evidence of my crime as it wept with expectation at the sound of metal raking down its track when another zipper was lowered.
And when his hands went to my waist, lifting me off my feet with ease, I voluntarily pled guilty to the charge of lewd conduct, aiding and abetting my partner in crime as I wrapped my legs around him.
His head bent down until his eyes met mine. His wickedly sexy grin made my blood race in my veins. When he continued to lower until he took a nipple between his lips, every nerve ending sat up and took notice. The first nip had my hips jerking away from the tree and my moan filling the space between us as my pussy slid along his shaft.
Wicked.
That was what this was. As he continued to nibble and bite my poor flesh, my nails tore tiny bits of bark off the tree, the flakes falling to land on the top of his head. With the suction of his mouth drawing a nipple deep, I forgot all about being the good girl. I completely dismissed the constricting rules of society. I embraced the devil who danced a jig when I threw myself into sin, riding his erection like the wanton criminal I was.
“’eeese,” I begged, the fabric serving as a gag making the plea almost indecipherable.
“Please what?” he asked, lifting his head, his eyes finding mine. “Please stop?”
“’oooo,” I said, adding a shake of my head to make sure he understood I had no desire for him to stop. “orrrrr…”
Frustrated, not to mention so desperate that my entire body ached, I began to dry hump him faster… though dry was definitely a misnomer as I was sopping wet.
“Naughty girl,” he said, a simple press of his body pinning me against the trunk again. “Do you want my cock?” he asked.
“esss!” I said, though we both knew that was a rhetorical question. Still, I nodded vigorously in case he had any doubts whatsoever.
“Then ask politely,” he said, pulling his hips back to assure I could no longer gain any friction on my own.
Huffing and rolling my eyes a bit, I attempted to spit the cloth out of my mouth only to discover sodden cotton swelled when saturated.
Finally taking pity on me, he chuckled and tugged the shirt free.
Ignoring how gross it was to feel the wetness of my own drool against my chest, I licked my lips. “Please.”
“Oh, babygirl, I know you can do better than that.” Trusting his bodyweight to keep mine secure against the tree, he began to pluck at my nipples with one hand, dropping the other to slide between our bodies to slip over my clit. “Tell Daddy what it is you need.”
I was off balance. I was embarrassed. I was torn. I was shocked. And, let’s face it, I was way too horny to really care about anything but getting his cock inside me.
“I need you to fuck me.”
“Please,” he said, his finger moving to circle my clit that jumped with each of my heartbeats.
“Please, fuck me.” Batting my eyelashes, I made the request as sweetly as I could as if that would disguise the fact that I was acting like a harlot.
He dropped his finger lower to slide it between the lips of my sex. “Who do you want to fuck this sweet little pussy?” he asked.
“You!” I practically growled, doing my best to arch my hips forward. He’d removed his glorious cock but if I could only arch another fraction of an inch, I was sure I could sheath his teasing finger inside me.
“Try again,” he said, denying me my prize as he moved his hand again, only to bring those wonderful fingers together to slap against my poor empty pussy.
“Ow!” I yelped, the sting more intense than the one on my nipple had been and yet drove my need to the next level.
“Daddy,” he prompted.
I was about to ask him where this was coming from when those same fingers that had slapped my sex began to caress the sting away. Deciding that I didn’t care, that I’d call him King of the World if he declared it so, I said, “Daddy Dearest, fuck me already!”
He chuckled and shook his head. “We are definitely going to have to work on your manners, little girl.”
It was a damn good thing that the moment he thrust his hips forward and drove his cock into me, that he covered my mouth with his. As he swallowed my scream of pure unadulterated pleasure, I heard voices and these weren’t in my head. He rocked his hips back and forth, pinning me hard to the tree as he fucked me while visitors to the arboretum moved around us. Thankfully, these were law-abiding citizens who stayed on the designated paths. The sounds of their conversations drifted along the air to mingle with the muffled sounds of one very naughty girl getting fucked quite thoroughly.
Naughty?
Yes, while failure to walk the straight and narrow path might have gotten me a stern warning from a park ranger, I was pretty positive that if we were caught having wild monkey sex in the great outdoors, it would cost me more than a slap on my wrist—or my pussy for that matter.
Chapter Two
Savannah
Looking up, I blushed as the sound of clapping rolled over the room like a wave.
“More!” was yelled by someone near the back and picked up by others. It was both embarrassing and thrilling.
Closing the book I’d been reading from, I watched as Ellen Pope, the woman assigned to me for what she had referred to as a “Read and Feed” session came forward to join me. I had never even entertained the fact that I would ever be standing at a podium at the front of the room and reading aloud, but Ellen had assured me that I wouldn’t regret it.
“Trust me, readers enjoy hearing an author introduce characters they actually can imagine being friends with. You read it like you’re living it, and I promise, they will spread the word about how much they loved every sentence. And when you give them just a teensy taste, they are going to want more and will line up to grab their copy.”
I’d actually panicked for a moment before realizing there was no way she could know how close to the truth she’d come with her “living it” comment, and had r
eluctantly agreed. It wasn’t like I had no experience in public speaking or was particularly prudish, but addressing a panel of jurists or arguing a case before a judge was one thing. Talking about explicit sex including words that never failed to make me blush was quite another, not to mention the law was my business and what I worked hard at to pay the bills, including my ridiculously high student loans. And despite my fellow authors repeatedly trying to instill in me that writing books was a business with me as the sole proprietor, each and every one of my word babies was extremely personal to me. When I was deep in the zone, the hours I spent with my laptop creating stories sure didn’t feel like work.
“Whew! Did it just get a lot hotter in here or what?”
I snapped out of my memory and back to the present, listening as Ellen’s cheerful voice rang out as she addressed the crowd.
“If you’re like me and can’t wait to read more about Hanna and her daddy, grab a copy of the book and come up and meet Kerrie. She’d love to say hi and sign your copy of Hanna’s Haven. If you haven’t purchased your ticket for the Author Spotlight event, Kerrie is our rising star and a featured guest tonight. Just ask any member of the staff, and they will be glad to get you registered. They also have preorder sheets if you’d like to choose some books before tomorrow’s big rush. We’ll have them bagged and available to pick up during the book fair which opens at 9 a.m. sharp. We’ll even provide boxes and arrange for shipping in case you forgot to bring that extra suitcase for all the books you simply can’t leave behind. Kerrie will be at Table 23 with more steamy stories and a goodie bag of swag, so make sure you drop by before they’re all gone.”
I certainly couldn’t fault her for her marketing skills. Before she’d even finished her spiel, people were taking copies from staff walking among the seats with baskets loaded with my book and lining up against the wall.
