The Suit

by Kathryn Nolan

  ROXY

  Fucking.

  You’d done it before. Hundreds of times before, and your experiences ran the gamut of skill and talent. You’d taken home plenty of sloppy men; inconsiderate men. Men who swore up and down they knew just how to fuck you right…and then failed miserably. But you’d also taken home men who did fuck right — who made you scream to the high heavens. Sexy, rough bad-boys. Just your type.

  All of this is true, and all of this briefly runs through your mind as Edward fucks you. Sweet, seemingly mild-mannered Edward, whose slick suit now lays in various tatters on the floor, is somehow annihilating every other sexual experience in your mind. There have been no other men. No other one-night stands. No other lovers.

  Because he has a magic cock. A magic cock that is somehow big, but not too big. Thick, but not too thick. Curved just right and smooth, smooth, smooth. But it’s more than that. You’re still on the counter, legs wrapped around Edward’s trim waist, your hands on his flexing ass. His hands are everywhere - gripping your hair, squeezing your throat, palming your breasts, bruising your hips.

  But it’s Edward’s rhythm that is pushing you past whatever ledge of sanity you still clung to. Because he is fucking you so goddamn slowly you can feel, every time, the glide of his cock through your pussy lips. The arch, the nudging against your g-spot. The sparking of your nerve endings. Slow, but steady, and it is driving you mad.

  “Watch with me,” he says, grabbing the back of your neck and pressing your foreheads together. He is panting, voice hoarse, and together the two of you watch as he fucks into you. The sound. So wet. So filthy, like watching the hottest porn, except you’re the star. “So wet for me. So fucking tight,” he growls.

  “Why are you going so fucking slowly?” You say past gritted teeth, and Edward bites your throat and slows further down. You whimper until he lets go. But as soon as he does you reach down and give him a sharp slap on his ass. He hisses and wraps your hair around his fingers, yanking your head back. He licks and bites up your exposed throat, so you fist his chest hair and give it a fierce tug.

  “Fuck fuck fuck,” he groans, and his pace picks up.

  “You like that?” You tease, slapping his ass again.

  “Oh god,” he responds, lowering his head to take your nipples in his mouth again. You seem to be forever balanced on the edge of orgasm with Edward - one ending and another beginning, some delicious limbo you never want to leave. He has you trapped there now, sucking your piercings between his teeth as he pulls on your hair. Tears sting your eyes and you fucking love it. You rake your fingernails down his ribcage and he shudders and sighs.

  And still: so slowly. Cock gliding in, and out. In and out, like the two of you are fucking on a picnic blanket on a Sunday morning in the park. It is infuriating and hot and you’ve never been with a man who had such skill and patience. You grab his ass and yank him against you hard, his handsome face an inch from your own.

  “Fuck. Me. Faster,” you demand against his mouth, and then the two of you are kissing angrily, tongues clashing, and at one point you’re pretty sure he bites your lip so hard you bleed.

  “No,” he says with a smirk when he finally pulls back to breathe. “I’ll take my sweet time with this pussy, Roxy. Because it’s mine now.”

  “Shut the fuck up,” you hiss, but you’re moaning and sighing at the possession because it gets you off and he knows that. Edward seems to know everything, and as he wraps his fingers around your throat, keeping you still, the two of you watch as he thrusts and thrusts between your legs.

  It is possibly the most erotic moment of your life, until Edward’s thumb glides over your clit. You try to look away but his fingers are still around your throat.

  “Look at me, love,” he says, pinning you with a heated gaze. “I want to watch this time.”

  “Watch…watch what?” You pant, because the sweet orgasm that had been simmering beneath your nerve endings has woken. Is rippling up your spine.

  “I want to watch you come with my cock buried inside of you,” he says, and slightly speeds up the rhythm of his cock and the circling of his thumb. A strangled cry escapes your lips.

  “I want to watch you come with my fingers around your throat,” he says, mouth against your lips. You are sharing the same breath, groaning together, eyes locked. It is intimate and sexy and the smile that lights up his face as you climax is so beautiful you want to cry.

  This orgasm is softer, gentler, but it still robs you of your ability to be upright. You collapse against his hard chest, and he rubs your back and strokes your hair, cock still thrusting.

  He is kissing you like you’re the most precious thing in the world.

  “Edward,” you say, “that was, fuck, that was…” but you don’t even have words really. He stands with you still wrapped around his body, and you feel suffused with light.

  “I’m glad you enjoyed that,” he chuckles softly. He turns in front of the wall-to-wall mirror in the back. Slides out of you and places you gently on the floor. Wraps you in his arms and kisses you until you’re swooning and sighing.

  “Roxy,” he whispers.

  “Yes?” You ask. He is so sweet and handsome.

  Until his face changes, expression growing intense and savage.

  “Put your palms on that goddamn mirror.”

  EDWARD

  It’s a funny thing when your deepest, most private sexual fantasies finally come true. You’d spent most of your adult life yearning for the kind of sex that would shatter you into pieces. Expose you. Strip you raw.

  And now, here you are, with Roxy’s gorgeous, inked body bent over at the waist, and she is staring back at you from the mirror with the most intoxicating combination of submission and rebellion.

  Roxy is your dream woman. And she was right, because you know you stumbled into this tattoo parlor for a reason, and you remember you’d been dating someone not hours before this moment, but you really, truly cannot fathom a time when you weren’t buried deep in Roxy’s cunt.

  Had life existed before this?

  “What are you fucking waiting for?” Roxy smirks, palms on the mirror. You arch an eyebrow, scoop up your belt from the floor, and crack her against the ass with it. She yelps and pants and you do it again.

  You wonder if the sound of leather against skin is the most erotic sound you’ve ever heard.

  “Still so mouthy,” you sigh, sliding your fingers between her legs to find her soaking wet. Your eyes meet in the mirror and you flash her a grin. She bites her lip, pushing back into your hand. You glide your palm down her back, between her shoulder blades, up her neck. Thread your fingers in her long, magenta hair.

  “Roxy,” you say softly, twisting her hair between your fingers.

  “Edward,” she replies.

  “How much can you take love?” You pull slowly, watching in rapt fascination as the upper half of her body arches back. You are drunk on control, flush with power.

  “I can take it all,” she says, “Give it to me.”

  Your eyes meet again. And then you proceed to fuck Roxy like the barbarian you’ve always been. Fast and rough and with none of the technique of earlier. And maybe the sound of leather against skin isn’t the most erotic sound you’ve ever heard. Maybe it’s the sound of your hips snapping against her thighs; the wet sound of your skin meeting, Roxy’s endless throaty moans and her palm slapping against the mirror. Your eyes never leave each other, and the harder you pull on her hair the more crazed she seems to become.

  Another yank, and you hover your mouth over her ear as you fuck her.

  “Was this your plan the whole time?” You murmur, pinching her nipples roughly. “As soon as I walked in here, did you know you were going to fucking destroy me?”

  Roxy’s sly smile is too much. You spank her, hard, for what feels like a long time, until she stops smiling. “Roxy,” you growl, speeding up the pace. You grab her chin, tilting her mouth towards yours, and you take her mouth angrily. She bites your tongue
and the pain shoots up your spine. Your lips crash against each other as you thrust and thrust and everything is perfection.

  “I’ll never tell,” she finally says when you pull back, and there’s that smile again. You bite the side of her neck and slide two fingers over her clit. A shudder rocks her body.

  “Fuck, I can’t believe I’m going to come again,” she pants, and the thrill of owning this vixen’s pleasure almost sends you rocketing over the edge.

  “That’s because I know just what you need, love,” you say against her ear. “Just what this sweet little cunt needs. Isn’t that right?”

  She shakes her head, the fucking minx, but then you let go of her hair, grab her hips, and fuck her so hard she almost breaks the mirror. And then she’s only screaming yes as she climaxes and you have an out-of-body experience. The most intense orgasm of your entire life races through your body and blackens your vision. You roar with pleasure, feeling it from the top of your head to the bottom of your feet.

  And then the two of you collapse to the floor.

  ROXY

  You’re curled up with Edward on the cold floor of your dodgy, poorly-lit tattoo parlor. Specifically, you’re lying on your back and his head is pressed to your chest, his hands wrapped around your body. For the first ten minutes, you can only catch your breath together, your body and consciousness floating in that peaceful, happy place that exists after four earth-shattering orgasms.

  “Roxy?” Edward asks. His voice is hoarse.

  “Hmmmm,” you murmur, stroking his hair with your fingers. You’ve never been a particularly cuddly woman, but Edward has the kind of hair that begs to be stroked.

  “I guess you did end up having the sincere pleasure of seeing my ass.”

  You snort, giving his hair a soft yank. “And I never even wanted to see it in the first place.”

  “Liar,” he teases. “Plus I’m sober now.”

  “Point being?” You wonder briefly what time it is, if people on the street had seen you. They definitely probably heard you.

  “You can give me that tattoo. Right on my ass. Like I wanted,” he says, sitting up to look at you. He smiles when your gazes meet, and brushes your wild hair back from your face. “And this night will finally be complete.”

  “I’m not giving you that tattoo,” you sigh and he bites his lip. “You’ll have to find someone else to tattoo ‘Fuck You Emily’ on your butt cheek.” You attempt a coolly aloof straight face (your specialty) but you are sex-drunk and punch-drunk, and end up giggling.

  “A giggle?” Edward says, eyebrows raised. “What on god’s green earth was that? Has the apocalypse started? Did the four horsemen gallop by while we were fucking?”

  “Oh shut up,” you say. “I’m a woman who sometimes has reason to giggle.”

  “Before or after you cut a man’s heart out?” Edward asks. You look away, think for a moment.

  “During,” you finally say, and Edward gives you a sloppy kiss as he laughs.

  “You should know, I no longer want my tattoo to read ‘Fuck You Emily’,” he finally says.

  “Why not?”

  “Because who is Emily?” He says, grinning cheekily. “And I have a new idea.”

  “Which is?”

  “A tattoo on my ass that says ‘All Hail Queen Roxy’.” The two of you stare at each other for a moment, and your heart is beating so loudly in your chest you’re positive he can hear it.

  “I was that good, huh?” You finally say with a smirk.

  “Bloody fantastic, love,” he says, kissing you again. And again. And then once more. “Actually, I do not have any words that adequately describe this encounter. None at all.”

  You sit up off the floor, muscles protesting, and he does too. Edward’s eyes are bright and clear, and he’s smiling broadly.

  “Was that okay?” You ask seriously. “All of it? It didn’t…you weren’t uncomfortable?”

  “More than okay,” Edward says, kissing your shoulder. “Epic. Life-altering.”

  “I thought you didn’t have words,” you say with an arched eyebrow.

  “They’re starting to come to me now,” he says sheepishly, and you wrap your arms around his neck, bringing him closer. You can’t seem to keep your fingers away from his skin. Outside, the sun is just starting to peek up over the horizon.

  “When do you have to open the shop?” He asks.

  “Noon,” you reply. “When do you need to go to Wall Street?”

  “Never,” he grins. “I don’t do any real work there anyway.” You bite your lip to keep from laughing, but he notices and pulls you in for a tight, adorable hug.

  “Can I ask you a question? A real one this time?”

  “Of course,” you say, warm and safe against his chest.

  “Can I take you to breakfast?”

  You hide your face against his neck so he can’t see the smile that breaks loose. “I forgot to tell you. You don’t usually take strange women to breakfast after a one-night stand, Dilbert. That’s not the point.”

  “I disagree with this concept, love,” he says. “Let me buy you breakfast and I can convince you otherwise.”

  You stare at him, weighing the various outcomes, and find that you don’t give a flying fuck about that. Because maybe once in your life it’s okay to trust this charming, sexy, sweet man who wants to take you to breakfast. Who can see into the future? Certainly not you.

  “I like pancakes,” you say hesitantly.

  “Pancakes are my favorite,” he says.

  “Really?”

  “Absolutely.” His face is open and vulnerable, and he tucks a strand of your magenta hair behind your ear. “Please?”

  “Okay,” you finally say, and his happy smile blazes like the sun outside. “I’ll let you take me to breakfast. But only if you keep begging.”

  Edward blushes. “It’s a date then.”

  THE END

  Hey readers! I hope you enjoyed Edward and Roxy’s sweet, smutty story. Turn the page to read the first four chapters of my enemies-to-lovers romance, RIPTIDE.

  ***

  Avery Dacosta never expected to find a protester in front of her office.

  Especially not now, when she’s this close to achieving a professional milestone years in the making: building a luxury hotel on Playa Vieja, San Diego’s untouched beach paradise.

  Finn Travis, local surfer and all-around nice guy, never expected to find himself the leader of Playa Vieja’s resistance. He’s more of a mellow tree-hugger than a radical activist. Except Avery’s hotel threatens to destroy the place he loves the most. For the first time in his life, Finn decides to use his charisma for more than just attracting his next fling.

  Avery’s worked too hard to let a bongo-playing hippie like Finn shatter her perfect future. And his naive idealism grates on her every nerve.

  She’s not alone in her loathing: Finn thinks Avery is a greedy, corporate robot.

  As Avery and Finn crash together like waves against the shore, their debates become heated. Sexy. Dirty.

  But the riptide of their attraction jeopardizes more than just their ideological values. Can Avery and Finn be together without giving up what they care about the most?

  RIPTIDE

  Enjoy this sneak peek…

  Avery

  My insomnia had led me to Playa Vieja.

  The strip of beach extended for more than a mile, but at the farthest corner was a rock outcropping that rarely attracted anyone except me.

  I was huddled against the wind as it whipped across the ocean, my fingers wrapped around a thermos of hot coffee. My back ached from perching on the rocks and my toes were freezing in the wet sand.

  But it was all worth it for the view. Not the ocean view, which I was currently spending my entire career thinking about how to monetize.

  No, I had stumbled upon my favorite view on this whole damn beach.

  The Surfer.

  I’d seen him a dozen times already. He also favored this far corner at the ed
ge, and even though San Diego was home to thousands of surfers, this spot was always empty, at least in the very early morning.

  The sun had lifted itself beyond the horizon, but not by much. Everything was cast in a dream-like glow.

  The Surfer was already out here when I arrived, which meant he was one hell of a morning person. The waves were rough—a continual roar—and my stomach clenched as he was knocked off his board.

  But he sprung up like a dolphin, every time, shaking water out of his hair and climbing back on. Tenacious.

  He had an easy grace in the water. Over the crash of the waves I could hear him laughing. Joyful.

  He’d been swimming for a bit when a larger wave came cresting up to his right. He paddled quickly, popped up onto his feet, and caught it, running his fingers through the swell. He rode for a full minute before it died out and he dove, head first, into the foam.

  I found myself grinning, then stopped.

  He was paddling and swimming constantly. My arms ached just to look at him. As he stroked through the water, I found myself wondering what his arms looked like. I mean, they had to be muscular, right?

  That must have been the insomnia talking.

  I took a sip of too-hot coffee and burned my tongue. A suitable punishment for the distraction. I was about to achieve a career milestone I’d been working towards for two years and in that time I’d denied myself men. Relationships were too messy. Too many distractions.

  It was definitely not a time to fantasize about arms.

  He caught another wave and my heart leapt, just a little. Bad news, but I was exhausted and stressed out and dreading going to work, career milestone or not.

  Three more months. I’d chanted this like a mantra these past few days. In the shower. As I walked to work. Here, on Playa Vieja, with my toes in the cold sand.