Misadventures with a Sexpert

by Elizabeth Hayley

  He brought his face back up to mine before I could come, dragging his lips over my torso as he wet it with his tongue. With his solid hands, Gray held me steady, but I still wondered if I might collapse. Was it possible to pass out from pleasure? Because someone might need to call an ambulance once Gray got done with me. It’d been weeks since I’d felt him inside me, but it seemed longer. Needing to remember the feel of him, I begged him to fuck me.

  He ground his hips against me, driving me up off the ground as he lubricated himself on my pussy without pressing into it.

  “I’m not gonna fuck you,” he said, and I swear I could’ve started crying. But when he followed it with, “I’m gonna make love to you,” I actually shed a few tears.

  I don’t think Gray noticed, though I wouldn’t have cared if he had. But I knew the implications of it. This man was it for me. He was the one who’d wake me up with a kiss to the forehead before work and the one who’d make me forget about a bad day with a glass of wine and a dumb joke.

  I was just glad I was it for him too.

  GRAYSON

  I’d said I was going to make love to Isla, but when our bodies finally connected fully, I don’t know that either of us could’ve called it “making love.”

  “I don’t know if I can be gentle,” I said, my cock surrounding itself with the walls of her pussy as I resisted the urge to slam into her. This was the first time we’d had sex as a couple, and I wanted it to be special, memorable in a way that didn’t involve being screwed into oblivion against an apartment door.

  Isla looked up at me, her hand grabbing hold of my face as she spoke. “You have the rest of your life to be gentle.”

  I smiled at the thought.

  Then her fingers found my back, nails digging into my skin in a way that would cause marks for days. All of it was rougher than I’d anticipated, harder and faster, probably because both of us felt the distance of the past few weeks and were making up for our mistakes.

  Neither of us spoke anymore. Our eyes said more than any words could have, and my gaze didn’t leave her.

  We each took as much as we gave, and I found myself wondering if I’d ever be able to come up for air. I wondered if I’d ever want to. I could drown in this. In us. Because in some crazy twist of fate, my crumbling, fragmented semblance of a life had somehow led me to the best thing that could have ever happened to it.

  I buried myself in her, filling her with short, staggered thrusts that were more frantic than rhythmic. I held on to the sound and the sight of Isla when she finally came, like if I didn’t pay attention, the moment might slip from me without my being able to fully experience it. Her mouth opened, and a few little whines escaped it. Her eyes closed, and her skin flushed with the heat of all of it.

  I wanted to put my lips on her, kiss the pink parts of her as she rode out the last waves of her orgasm. But my own release had been creeping up on me like a shadow I couldn’t outrun any longer. So I finally stopped trying. I let it envelop me completely, like a blanket that wrapped both of us up from the inside out until we were alone in our cocoon.

  Once both of us had lost all control, I slowed down to kiss her. Then I took both her hands in one of mine and pinned them above her head, my lips finally finding all the places I wanted to taste when she came.

  She gripped my hips harder with her thighs in response, like if she didn’t hold on tight she might lose me completely. I wanted to tell her she’d never lose me. That we could do this over and over until both of us tired of the other. And then we could do it again. Because, as Isla said, we had the rest of our lives.

  And the rest of our lives sounded pretty damn good.

  Acknowledgments

  We of course have to thank Meredith Wild for liking our writing enough to bring us onto the Misadventures team. You’ve been a friend to us since the beginning, and we’re eternally grateful for that.

  To Scott, Robyn, and the editing team, thank you for all of your hard work and kind words. You’re so great at what you do, and you’re a pleasure to work with.

  To the rest of the Waterhouse Press team, thank you for your continued support and for designing all of the kick-ass covers and graphics.

  The Padded Room, thank you for supporting our craziness. From posting links, teasers, and helping get our name out there, you are a vital part of our dreams. We love you ladies!

  To our families, we’re not sure how all of you put up with us so we can keep riding along on this journey, but we love you for that and a million other reasons. Thank you :)

  Don’t miss any Misadventures!

  Misadventures with a Lawyer

  January 12, 2021

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  Excerpt From Misadventures with a Lawyer

  CHASE

  Saturdays were meant to be spent on ourselves, doing things like going to the gym, catching up on laundry, and watching college football. I worked all week so I could enjoy the weekends, yet here I was again driving to the office on a Saturday.

  I spent countless hours running my practice. Empires weren’t built overnight, after all. Running a successful law firm meant long hours and, sometimes, blood, sweat, and tears. I was no one’s bitch when it came to law, and I damn well wasn’t going to work for someone else. I was too much a hard ass and too confident in my own abilities.

  As the doors to the elevator opened to my floor, I prepared myself to review the notes Ainsley would have left me regarding any information and evidence she had found. I would then prepare what I needed for Monday, with her assistance whenever she decided to show up, an then we’d reconvene in court on Monday and prove Lance’s innocence. Bam, done. Celebrate and get laid.

  I stepped out into the bright open area of the empty reception of my firm’s office, again appreciating the cleanliness. First impressions were important. Some of my clients might be shady, but it didn’t mean my office had to be.

  To maintain a pristine environment, I expected a lot—or maybe more accurately, nothing—from my staff. Don’t bring your problems to work. And don’t wallpaper anything with photos of your family. My employees were here to do a job, not take away from the professional environment by posting pictures of dogs, cats, and however many kids they had.

  I loved my family and my niece and nephews, sure, but no one would find their pictures plastered anywhere in my office. Some called me a cold, callous asshole, but if that helped me win my battles, then I was all for it.

  When I pushed my key into my personal office door, surprise rolled through me to find it unlocked.

  What the hell? Did Ainsley forget to lock my door?

  Upon opening it and entering my office, my senses were assaulted by the strong scent of…Scotch? I frowned and looked around the room. Piles of papers were stacked here and there, and food containers littered my table. And there, head down on my desk, was a passed-out Ainsley Speire.

  In one hand she held a glass with just about enough liquor left for a shot. In the other, she held the quill pen I had brought back from a trip to Venice. Next to her was my most expensive bottle of Scotch, completely drained. And partially tucked between her arm and the desk was a handwritten letter addressed to me.

  Everything I loathed about dirtiness crept over my skin like a centipede on a leaf. A growl erupted from Ainsley, and I frowned. Was that a snore?

  Her hair fell in tendrils over her face, and she looked peaceful. I moved a few strands of her hair, and repugnance pulled at my lips. She had been drooling.

  On my desk. Perfect.

  I moved her hand, causing the pen to fall to the floor, and then I pulled the paper out from under her arm and held it up.

  “Dear Mister Chase Newstrom,” I started out loud.

  Maybe Ainsley would wake before I got to the end. I lifted my brow and adjusted my stance. I glanced down at her, then continued to read while she slept off the booze.

  “You, sir, are an asshole.
” I paused and looked down at her again. “Asshole, huh?”

  I returned to the letter and read to myself about the wedding events she had planned to attend starting yesterday.

  Shit. I forgot about her wedding plans. Okay, I may be an asshole. Well, she could have reminded me, so really, whose fault was it?

  “Thanks to you, my friends will never forgive me.” I snorted. “Yeah, whatever. Your friends will get over it.” I skimmed down until the word ass grabbed my attention.

  You walk in here with that tight ass of yours, in your designer clothes, and you smell so good. Even the days you come in with your workout clothes on. The sweaty clothes cling to your body like some sort of drive-me-crazy carnal paint.

  This last part made me chuckle. I continued reading to myself.

  You take my breath away when you step into a room.

  I paused and looked down at Ainsley. Had she always felt this way? How had I not seen it? I turned my back to her and paced the room as I read.

  Your eyes seduce me in ways that only my erotic dreams can handle. You make me weak in the knees, and I can’t look at you longer than a few minutes for fear of lunging into your arms.

  I stopped once more. I’d had staff members crush on me before, but not quite like this. I continued her letter until the end, raised my brows, and folded the paper. I paced for a moment until I heard movement from the desk.

  I turned to face a waking Ainsley slowly rising from her slumber. I glanced down at the letter and read a choice excerpt.

  “So maybe the joke’s on you. Why don’t you take your tight ass and your well-built body I could bounce a quarter off of and go to hell. Go jerk off to whatever woman is floating your boat this week. I’ll pray for you that your dick doesn’t shrivel up and fall off! And no, I’m not going to buy you more booze. So go fuck yourself, Chase, because you’ll never get the chance to fuck me. I would have gladly bent over your desk, but that ship has fucking sailed! Never to be yours.” I paused and met her gaze. “Ainsley Speire.”

  I folded the note, smirked, and took a step forward.

  She looked down and slowly swiped her sleeve across the drool she’d left behind.

  “I—” A blush crept up her neck to her cheeks.

  “Nice letter,” I said and took another step toward her. “Did you enjoy my Scotch?”

  Her skin flushed further with a bright shade of red. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

  “No you’re not. If you were sorry, you wouldn’t have raided my liquor cabinet.”

  “Am I fired?” she asked.

  Ainsley met my gaze once more and bit her bottom lip. Her shirt was disheveled. It was what she had worn the day before, and the first few buttons were open. The top of her breasts barely crested the material, but it was enough to send a thrill of erotic thoughts through my mind.

  How had I not seen Ainsley like this before? Yes, she was a woman, but I’d never seen her as anything but an employee. She had just taken her bar exam, and I guessed a part of me had looked at her as someone green, someone who knew nothing about nothing, and I liked my women smart. I wanted someone who understood their body and knew how to use it, not someone new to sex who had no idea what it meant to be sexy.

  Was this the real Ainsley? Was I only now seeing her for the first time?

  “We will see, Ms. Speire,” I finally answered. “We will see. But I promise you I am intrigued by this little note of yours.”

  Continue reading Misadventures with a Lawyer on January 12, 2021…

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  Visit Misadventures.com for more information!

  About Elizabeth Hayley

  Elizabeth Hayley is actually “Elizabeth” and “Hayley,” two friends who love reading romance novels to obsessive levels. This mutual love prompted them to put their English degrees to good use by penning their own. The product was Pieces of Perfect, their debut novel. They learned a ton about one another through the process, like how they clearly share a brain and have a persistent need to text each other constantly (much to their husbands’ chagrin).

  They live with their husbands and kids in a Philadelphia suburb. Thankfully, their children are still too young to read their books.

  Visit them at AuthorElizabethHayley.com