Love at First Sight Series Boxed Set: (Books 1-5)

by Lynn Cooper

  She obeys without a sound. Quickly, I reach for a couple of pillows and slide them under her mound. I want her to be comfortable when I take her from behind. The motion causes her butt cheeks to separate a little, tempting me mercilessly with a cock-hardening, breathtaking view of her pretty, glistening cunt. I can smell the musky-sweet scent of her arousal, and it’s driving me insane.

  I slide my finger along the seam of her dripping-wet sex before teasingly pulling at her swollen outer lips. She whimpers and grinds herself against me as my middle finger finds that engorged bud of hidden desire.

  The more she undulates her hips, the harder and faster I circle her clit. I’m relentless in my pursuit, patiently waiting and anticipating the moment when she sucks in a sharp breath and cries out her pleasure.

  Even as my concentration zeroes in on that tiny bundle of nerves at the apex of her pussy, I can feel her reaching for me. Her hands find my flexing thigh muscles with a simple touch that’s more erotic than I thought possible. As she scores my hair-roughened flesh with her fingernails, I continue to manipulate her clitoris, alternating feverish kisses between her back and her ribcage.

  The room is filled with nothing but her breathy sighs and my ragged breathing. I’m shaking with the effort of restraint. I need to be inside my woman, but I won’t take my pleasure until she gets hers. Right before the last thread of my control snaps, she quakes and quivers, her body splintering apart beneath me.

  “Oh, God, Gavin! That was amazing!”

  “You’re so damn beautiful when you come,” I say, trying to hold myself in check as the final tremors of her climax subside.

  Turning her head to look back over her shoulder, Aviana, says, “Fuck me hard. So hard I’ll feel you for days.”

  Her plea couldn’t have been more perfect.

  Grabbing her hips, I slam into her honeyed heat. Pushing forward, I let her feel the pressure of my body pressed into hers. I want to show her how badly I want her. Bracing myself with one hand against the mattress, I reach around, grab her lush breast and pinch the nipple. Her lips are slightly parted on a sigh when I fuse my mouth to hers. With each thrust of my hips, I deepen the kiss. My tongue is every bit as intrusive as my dick. Both are hell-bent on consuming her. Fucking her. Claiming every inch of her as mine.

  Slowing the pace, I revel in the clench and release of her cunt around my cock until I can think of nothing but the sultry give-and-take of our heated flesh. I suck her tongue into my mouth as her sex simultaneously sucks my cock deeper inside her molten core.

  Unable to wait a second longer, I break the kiss and surge into her with all of my might. She wants to be fucked hard, and I want to please her.

  I pound her with so much force the bed dances across the floor. She matches every inch of my hardness with her softness. Opening under my primal onslaught, she welcomes me inside her even deeper than I thought I could go.

  By the time the bedframe reaches the far wall, I feel her breaking apart again. Her pussy tightens around me like a fist. Holding. Squeezing. Milking every last ounce of semen from my balls.

  Collapsing beside her, I draw her to my chest and say, “I love you more than I have ever loved anyone or anything in my life, Aviana. I don’t want to live unless you are always by my side. Say you still want to be my wife.”

  Kissing my sweat-covered chest, she smiles and says, “I wouldn’t want to be anything else.”

  Epilogue

  Aviana Leif

  GAVIN AND I GOT married six months ago in a small, simple ceremony that took place on the bridge over the goldfish pond. I got to wear the wedding gown of my dreams, and he looked dashing in his tuxedo.

  We wrote our own vows and exchanged them at sunset against a backdrop of blooming Rhododendrons and Azaleas. Cecelia stood up for us, and Gavin’s jeweler friend who designed my ring served as our witness. My gorgeous, two-carat diamond is a marquis cut set in a white-gold band accented with smaller diamonds on each side. It goes beautifully with the matching bands Gavin and I gave to each other on our wedding day.

  While my husband is hard at work on his next romance novel, I spend my days at the Winslow Center for the Blind. That’s right. I used my million-dollar trust fund to build a warm, welcoming place where those with visual impairments can come to learn mobility skills and how to read Braille. Cecelia volunteers her time there, too. Both of us know how hard it is to lose the sense of sight. Together, along with a specialized staff, we help others acclimate to their disability and not only survive but thrive with pride and independence.

  Gavin and I spend our nights in each other’s arms, making the hottest, heart-stopping love you can imagine. Every time he gets me between the sheets, he becomes the heroes in his books, and I become his heroine.

  In case you were wondering, upon his release from the hospital, Landon Lawson was arrested for mugging me. He was also charged with breaking and entering as well as possession of a firearm without a permit. Gavin filed an official complaint against Dr. Becky Lawson for sexual harassment and unethical behavior with a patient. The American Board of Psychology revoked her license and recommended she seek some counseling of her own.

  Now that you’re up-to-date on everything, I best get back upstairs. Gavin has written a brand new, hot-as-hell sex scene, and he needs me to help him act it out. You know, to make sure the logistics line up okay. I’ve got a feeling all of our parts will fit together perfectly. They always do.

  His for the Teaching

  Chapter One

  Violet Driscoll

  THE END OF SUMMER vacation is always bittersweet, but this time the mixture of my emotions is particularly potent. The metaphorical taste on my tongue is bitter because nine months of a school year lies yawning before me and sweet because it will be my last one. Tomorrow morning, I’ll wake up a senior at Moon Crescent High School in Robeton, South Carolina. Home of moonbeams and lofty dreams that rarely, if ever, come true.

  This long awaited milestone should be filled with anticipation and celebration. For me, it’s a painful reminder of being all alone in this crazy, topsy-turvy world. One minute, I was a princess being doted on by a big, strong military man I called Dad and a graceful, classy and demure lady I called Mom. The man I thought was invincible was blown to bits two years ago by a defective explosive during a routine bomb-diffusing exercise. My mom, along with some of the soldiers on my Dad’s squad, suspected foul play. But no one could prove a thing. Several lawyers and a mountain of debt later, I learned you can’t fight Uncle Sam. Unfortunate accidents like the one that destroyed my world were often covered up and easily swept under the rug like a long-forgotten dust bunny.

  Mom and I had become empty vessels drifting across stormy waters without the loving husband and father who had been the anchor of our little family unit. A man who will never be forgotten as long as there is breath in my body.

  In the aftermath of his death, my mother literally lost herself. I no longer recognized the woman who raised me. Gone was the well-put together, fashionable and funny lady whom my dad had daily put on a pedestal. In her place was a sloppy, intoxicated shell who shed her shyness beneath a chemical-induced haze. She traded pretty, floral dresses and baking brownies for slutty, skin-tight pants and one-night stands.

  On the first day of June, she took off with a shady, greasy-looking traveling salesmen who was wearing a rumpled suit and a bad toupee. She left me standing in our driveway—the one my dad paved himself—with a look of shock in my big, brown eyes and tears streaming down my face. As the sleaze-bucket with a Slim Jim bobbing between his lips pulled away, she lowered the passenger-side window and sang with a slur:

  Done laid around, done stayed around this

  old town too long.

  Summer’s almost gone, winter’s coming on.

  And it seems like I’ve got to travel on.

  And it seems like I’ve got to travel on.

  Suffice it to say, she ruined Bob Dylan for me. Since I didn’t have the luxury of losing my mind o
r traveling on, I got a job with the Outlaw Rodeo. All the riders dress up like famous outlaws from the Old West. It’s their shtick and a huge draw for the clamoring crowds.

  After the new high school was built, the town let Billy the Kid Yele set up camp on the old football field. Bull-riding and calf-roping is a big source of summertime fun in our sleepy southern town. My dad had been a big fan of westerns, and going to the rodeo was one of our favorite things to do together. Working here makes me feel closer to him.

  The last night of the rodeo is winding down, and so am I. The fans have dispersed. The parking lot is almost empty. A few stragglers hang around to chew the fat with sweaty, dusty, exhausted riders who are anxious to get back to their trailers.

  Billy makes his way over to me as I lean back against the bullpen, propping the heel of my cowgirl boot on the bottom rail.

  Looking worn out, he says, “If you’ll hold on a tick, little lady, I’ll get your pay.”

  I can’t help but smile at his long, lazy drawl. “I’ll be right here.”

  He tips his hat and heads in the direction of a beat-up camper, doubling as his office and sleeping quarters. I’m going to miss him and the others. This isn’t my first rodeo, but it will be my final one. Next summer, if my plans pan out, I’ll be in Italy.

  While waiting on Billy, I spot a stranger who looks completely out of place among the dirt-floor arena, leather saddles and bales of hay. He is the exact opposite of the rough-and-tumble cowboys I have worked alongside for the last three months. This man has the whole tall, dark and handsome thing going on. He has paired black penny loafers with navy slacks and a stark-white dress shirt. The crisp sleeves are rolled to his elbows, showcasing the sexiest, hairiest forearms I have ever seen. His outfit is the furthest thing from rodeo attire I can think of.

  With his full, firm-looking lips slightly parted and his head down as if he were concentrating on his every step, he is headed straight toward me on a collision course I have no desire to stop. Letting my boot slide off the rail, I lock my knees and brace my body for impact.

  Like a countdown to a missile launch, I silently tick off his last few steps. Three. Two. One. Crash.

  The second his muscular shoulder slams into my sleeveless one, I teeter sideways. Before I can grab hold of the rusty-orange rails, his sexy, tanned hands become brackets of steel on both sides of my hips, steadying me.

  His deep, baritone voice feels like a lover’s caress. “I’m so sorry. Are you okay?”

  Chapter Two

  Rhett Calder

  SHIT! I KNEW GOING out tonight was a big mistake. When I’m under this kind of stress, I should always stay home. Out of the public eye. Away from my fellow man or woman, as it were.

  I was driving to a coffee shop when I saw the arena and heard the roar of the crowd. My eyes were drawn to the motes of dust and dancing moths beneath the stadium lights. While they hypnotized me, I had nearly hit a telephone pole head-on. Now I have carelessly plowed into a young, curvy goddess in snug-fitting jeans and cowgirl boots while I was studying the various-size footprints in the dry, red-clay dirt.

  I feel tongue-tied when she speaks. “I’m fine, mister. But you really should watch where you’re going.”

  Her southern accent is intoxicating. With my hands still locked firmly on the flare of her hips, I nod and say with all the bravado I’m not feeling, “Tell me your name.”

  She blushes, and it’s one of the sweetest yet sexiest things I have ever witnessed.

  “Violet.”

  “Like the flower.”

  “Yeah, only I’m not nearly as pretty.”

  “That’s a damn lie.” My tone is too insistent and unyielding. I have to make a concerted effort to soften it lest she think I am some kind of lunatic. “I meant to say, the way your beautiful body blooms beneath the moon makes you prettier than any blossom I’ve ever seen.”

  Swallowing hard, I do my level best to tamp down the intensity vibrating through my veins. I really should turn around and walk away before I do something I’ll regret. Or worse, something she’ll regret.

  She smiles and gives her hair a flirty flip. The whole fucking world tilts on its axis. The warmth of her breath flutters across my face when she whispers like she’s sharing a secret. “That might be the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me.”

  Entranced, I quietly watch as she bites her bottom lip before giving me the gift of her voice again. “You must be new around here. I haven’t seen you before.”

  I clear my throat but, at this point, nothing can clear my mind. Silently, I command my hands to release her, but they don’t obey. “I got into town a week ago.”

  “You just passing through, or are you planning on staying a while?”

  I step closer, knowing the mere bulk and presence of my body will push hers even harder against the thick, metal rails of the bullpen. All I can think about is bucking her like a wild bronc.

  “I start a new job tomorrow. I guess you could say I’m putting down roots here.”

  She sighs. “In that case, welcome to Robeton. We may not be the friendliest town in the South, but we come pretty dang close.”

  I can see the glint of teasing in her beautiful, bourbon-brown eyes. A soft, soulful color a man can quickly drown in.

  The attraction between us is sparking with an electricity more powerful than a high-voltage cattle prod. I’m most definitely the aggressor, but this young woman has given no indication my nearness is unwelcome. Her dilated pupils and breathy sighs are giving me the green light, and it’s all I can do not to slam my foot down on the accelerator.

  Trying to drag in a deep breath through the heat and heavy humidity of an August night, I say, “Violet, if you don’t push me away right now, I’m going to kiss you until you faint.”

  She raises her eyebrows. “Who are you? Rhett Butler?”

  “No. I’m Rhett Calder, and the need to taste you is more than I can endure. This is your last chance to say no. To scream. To slap me in the face.”

  “Or knee you in the balls.”

  “Both your feet are still on the ground,” I say, glancing down at her cute, cowgirl boots.

  “So they are,” she says, smiling sweetly before teasingly licking her bottom lip and tilting her head to the side.

  The time for talking is definitely over. Fisting my hand in her shimmery-blonde hair, it takes every shred of my willpower to barely brush my lips against hers. All I really want to do is devour her. To drink the sweet nectar from her lips until I am no longer thirsting to death. Her pretty mouth opens on a feathery, feminine sigh. Tightly-bottled control snaps like a fucking rubber band being pulled past its limit.

  My hips thrust forward in sync with my tongue. She accepts the intimate intrusion, not submissively but as an active participant. As our lips, teeth and tongues meld in a mating ritual more animalistic than I could have imagined possible, her fingers grasp at the back of my shirt, plastering the sweat-soaked material to my scorching-hot skin. I cup her ass, dragging her forward like some archaic caveman who has no command over his cock. Her sex sears mine through the fabric barrier of my slacks, making me groan. I’m two seconds from ripping off every stitch of her clothing when I hear a gruff, countrified voice.

  “Is this man botherin’ you, Violet?”

  To my surprise, she playfully pushes me away and says, “I’m afraid I was the one molesting him, Billy. Working with you hayseeds fifty hours a week didn’t leave much time for a summer fling. I figured I was at least entitled to a kiss before real life reared its ugly head again.”

  The cowboy chuckles. “I reckon there’s no harm in a little smoochin,’ just so it’s consensual. Did you ask this fella’s permission before ya’ll locked lips?” he asks, handing her an envelope.

  She takes it and stuffs it into the back pocket of her Levis. “I didn’t get anything in writing, but he didn’t seem to mind too much,” she says, winking.

  Billy tips his hat at us. “You two youngsters don’t stay out too la
te. The mornin’ comes mighty early.”

  Chapter Three

  Violet Driscoll

  THE RELENTLESS LIGHT OF morning stabs my eyes through the slightly-parted blinds of my bedroom. Getting ready for school is the absolute last thing I want to do. I couldn’t fall asleep until well after three in the a.m. for thinking about Rhett Calder. About his hands on my hips. About his tongue in my mouth. About his massive, hard-as-granite erection pressed against my jeans-clad pussy.

  The man was a walking dream. One I was positive I had conjured up when he practically disappeared into thin air. One minute Billy was handing me a week’s wages, and I was tucking it into my back pocket. The next, I looked up to see the sexy silhouette of Rhett’s backside as he ran off into the night.

  Glancing at the alarm clock, I sigh with relief. Despite my forgetting to set it, I have still awoken around six-thirty. If nothing unforeseen happens, I should get to class with time to spare. Throwing my thin comforter back, I untangle my legs from the sheets and make my way to the bathroom. I still haven’t gotten used to the sound of my lone footsteps in this empty house.

  My mom has been gone for three months now. Not once has she called to check on me. Shortly after she left, she sent me a postcard from Mexico. I have no idea if she and the slimy salesmen are still slurping tequila and eating refried beans on the beach or if she has moved on with a swarthy Mexican stud, salsa dancing until dawn.

  Truthfully, I don’t care what she is doing. Why should I? She doesn’t care about me enough to even pick up a phone. If my dad were still alive, her behavior would kill him all over again. Of course, if he had not been blown into a million pieces, she would still be a model mother and ideal housewife. Life sure can be a bitch sometimes. But it can be positively perfect at other times. Like last night, when a handsome stranger came to the rodeo and kissed me until I got lightheaded and my knees knocked together from weakness and excitement.