Dirty Sexy Saint (Dirty Sexy #1)

by Carly Phillips

  “No.” She licked her lips, her lashes falling half-mast. “I want you to eat my cupcake.”

  The small, playful smile canting the corners of her mouth told him that she’d chosen her words deliberately, in reference to the nickname he’d given her.

  “I’ve already had a taste of the best cupcake I’m ever going to have,” he assured her. “But if you sit on my lap, I’ll try this lemon one.”

  “Thank you for indulging me,” she teased, even though they both knew that, before they were done, he’d be sampling more than just her baked treat.

  She set the plate on the table, and instead of sitting across his lap, she brazenly straddled his hips, her ass settled on his thighs. They were sitting face-to-face, the crotch of her shorts aligned with the stiff erection straining against the fly of his jeans. She rocked subtly against his aching dick, and he groaned deep in his throat, a hot surge of need twisting through him.

  He grabbed her hips before she could do it again. “You’d better feed me a bite of that cupcake before I change my mind and eat you instead,” he said gruffly.

  She shivered at his sexy threat, but she obviously really wanted him to try her dessert, because she behaved. Picking up the fork that was resting on the plate, she used the tines to cut out a portion of the confection so that he could taste everything at once—the cake, the filling, and the frosting—and fed him the sample.

  As soon as the tart and sweet lemony flavors hit his taste buds, a moan of appreciation rose in his throat. By far, the cupcake was the best dessert he’d ever had, and he was impressed by her baking skills. The cake itself was moist, the filling like lemon silk, and the frosting did melt in his mouth.

  The cupcake on the plate, decorated with frosting that looked like a delicate swirl of ribbons and lace, was as professional looking as…the one he’d seen looking through the bakery window in town when he’d been a young boy. The long-ago memory popped into his head.

  “When I was a kid…” He blinked, hearing his voice and realizing what he’d been about to reveal. He stopped short, cutting off the words and the memory.

  She tipped her head, looking at him curiously. “When you were a kid, what?” she prompted.

  He shook his head. “Nothing.”

  “It was obviously something,” she persisted. “What happened when you were a kid? Were you not allowed to have cupcakes?” she asked, her gaze holding his hostage.

  It was a good guess on her part, based on what she knew about his childhood, which wasn’t much. But it was obviously enough for her to come to that conclusion. He seriously thought about deflecting the conversation, but the soft, compassionate look in her eyes compelled him to share something he’d rather not even think about.

  “When I was a kid, for the longest time I didn’t know what cupcakes were,” he said, not surprised to see her eyes widen in shock.

  “How…how is that even possible?” She frowned in disbelief.

  He exhaled a deep breath and finished what he’d started. “My brothers and I never had a birthday party, and the school I went to didn’t allow outside food, not even on special occasions. We didn’t have a TV, and we got our groceries from a local food bank that just provided the basics.”

  It was the most profound glimpse he’d given anyone into his past, and because it was Samantha, it felt good to share something so difficult, yet painful at the same time.

  “Oh, Clay…” She placed her hands gently on either side of his face. That same tenderness he’d seen earlier was back in her gaze, this time laced with compassion, and it drew him in and tugged on emotions he usually kept locked down tight.

  He swallowed hard and forced himself to continue. “The first time I saw cupcakes was when I was walking home from school. I was about seven years old, and I passed by this upscale bakery in town. I looked in the window and saw these little cakes that looked so good I couldn’t stop staring. I was so hungry, and I wanted one so badly, but as soon as the woman inside saw me outside her shop, she came out and literally chased me away.”

  A flash of sadness followed by anger sparked in her eyes. “Why would she do that to a little boy?”

  He knew exactly why, and since he’d already come this far, he answered her question honestly. “Because the people in town knew me as a low-life Kincaid. The bastard child of a crack whore. And having a poor, dirty kid standing outside of their store wasn’t good for business.”

  She gave him a heartbroken look as her thumbs stroked along his jaw, her touch gentle and oddly comforting. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered.

  He shrugged, pretending it no longer mattered. “It was a long time ago.”

  She clearly wanted to say something more, but she smiled impishly at him instead, and he was grateful that she let it go.

  “I will make you as many cupcakes as you like,” she said, his heart melting a little at her sincere promise. “Anytime you want.” And the serious mood that had settled between them dissipated in an instant.

  He laughed, appreciating her lighthearted comment, and he let the past memories go in favor of more decadent, imminent pleasures. “You are the only cupcake I need,” he told her as he promptly stripped off her tank top, then unhooked her bra and dropped it to the floor, baring her gorgeous breasts to his gaze, his hands, his mouth. “But I do think you need a little frosting.”

  His little vixen nodded eagerly. “Yes, I think so, too,” she agreed as she shifted restlessly on his thighs, once again massaging his thickening cock against her denim-clad sex.

  Grinning at how impatient she already was, he dipped his finger into the froth of lemon-flavored icing and dabbed a generous amount on both of her tight nipples. Her lips parted on a gasp, which then turned into a sweet, sweet moan of need when he pushed her full breasts up with his hands and set out to clean up the mess he’d made.

  He flicked his tongue across each taut bead of flesh and used his teeth to scrape across those delectably perky nipples that tasted like spun sugar laced with a touch of lemon extract. Yum. He opened his mouth wider, taking her breast deeper while sucking and licking off the last bit of the tasty treat.

  She exhaled on a soft moan of pleasure and slid her fingers through his hair. Her head fell back, and her spine arched for more of his mouth as she brazenly rode his stiff cock through their jeans, grinding against him in a mindless, lust-induced fog.

  Heat, sharp and demanding, slammed through him. Jesus Christ, if she didn’t stop her erotic lap dance, he was going to come in his jeans like a horny teenager who had no self-control. But that’s what Samantha did to him. She stripped away all his restraint, made him wild and desperate to be so deep inside her she’d never forget he was there. That she was his.

  No matter how unrealistic, that possessive thought drove him, along with the pounding, pulsing need to feel her body tighten around his cock and milk him dry. Until he realized he had no protection on him.

  He pulled his mouth from her swollen nipple and swore, the sound harsh and frustrated. “I need to get a condom.”

  Shit, talk about a buzzkill, but there was no way he’d take any kind of risk with her.

  She slowly lifted her lids, her heavy lashes shadowing her eyes, but there was no mistaking the beguiling smile curving her pink lips. “Actually, I have one in the front pocket of my shorts.”

  He blinked at her, surprised by her unexpected announcement. “You do?”

  She giggled, the sound adorably playful and naughty as she pulled out a foil wrapper and gave it to him. “I found a box of condoms in your bathroom drawer, and I wanted to be prepared when this happened again.”

  He was both grateful and relieved at her foresight. The fact that she was so sure they’d have sex again that she’d kept a condom on her at all times so it wouldn’t be an issue made him harder than he already was.

  He guided her off his lap so that she was standing in front of him. Looking up at her, he unsnapped her shorts, unzipped them, and let them drop to the ground. “You’re such a n
aughty, dirty girl,” he teased.

  “With you, I am,” she admitted, and to prove her point, without an ounce of modesty, she pushed her panties down her legs and kicked them off, too, leaving her completely naked to his gaze.

  Goddamn, she was gorgeous. Her body so sleek yet curvy in all the right places. So sensual and sexy he knew he’d never get enough of her, no matter how many times he fucked her.

  “Sit down on the table,” he ordered as he pulled his T-shirt over his head, then nearly ripped open the front of his jeans so that he could sheathe his cock and be ready to drive into her. Just as soon as he sampled her dessert in one more place.

  “Lean back and spread your legs, Cupcake,” he demanded, dying to get a taste of her once again. “I haven’t had my fill of this delicious frosting yet.”

  She did as he asked, parting her thighs wide and opening herself up to him completely. Her pussy was so plump and wet, and the glistening folds separated to reveal that pearl of flesh nestled at the hood of her sex. He raked his gaze up the length of her body until he reached her face. She was biting her lower lip, and the flush sweeping across her cheeks had nothing to do with being shy. No, the pink tinge, and the escalating rise and fall of her breasts, was pure anticipation.

  He wasn’t going to disappoint. He dragged his thumb through the frosting, then smeared the creamy substance across her clit and down her slit so he’d have every excuse to slide his tongue in every single crevice to clean it all up. When he reached the wettest part of her, her hips jerked against his hand and her breath hitched in her throat. Undeterred, he pushed two thick fingers all the way inside of her and used his thumb to swipe across her sticky clit once again.

  “Clay…” Her voice rasped with burning, escalating need.

  He understood that hunger, because it was pulsing through his veins and racing straight to his cock. Done waiting, done teasing, he bent down and buried his mouth between her thighs and devoured his cupcake. His swirling tongue lapped up all traces of the frosting as he pumped his fingers in and out of her passage, and when he sucked on her sensitive clit, she cried out and grabbed a handful of his hair—not to pull his mouth closer, but to yank his head away.

  He looked up at her, not sure why she stopped him when he knew she’d been a few well-placed licks away from an orgasm.

  “I need you inside of me, Clay,” she said huskily. “Now. Please.”

  The demanding passion in her gaze—in her words—fueled his own lust, and he suddenly couldn’t wait to get balls deep inside of her. He shoved his jeans a bit lower on his thighs so they were out of the way without him having to take the time to strip them off. “Get off the table and turn around.” The order came out more forceful than he’d planned, but she had a way of bringing out the aggressive, more dominant edge in him.

  She shook her head and remained right where she was, in the same spread-open position, too. “No.”

  “No?” He didn’t know whether to grin at her impudence or turn her around so he could smack her ass for being insubordinate.

  “No,” she reiterated, then blew his fucking mind with her next brazen request. “I want you to take me like this. This time, I want to watch you…”

  “Watch me do what?” he prompted, wanting to hear her say those filthy words.

  She licked her bottom lip and gave him what he was waiting for. “I want to watch you fuck me,” she said, her voice soft as a caress to his aching cock. “And I want to watch you as you come.”

  Jesus, he thought, and couldn’t deny that he wanted to stare into those sultry blue eyes as she climaxed, too. He lined up the tip of his shaft against her slick entrance, then grabbed her hips to keep her securely in place as he drove into the softest, hottest, most addicting pussy he’d ever had.

  He could feel her tight body clasp every inch of him as he pushed deeper, deeper. Oh, fuck, so deep he was completely and utterly lost in her. Physically, yes, but it was also the ferocious need he felt for this woman alone that made his pleasure so damn intense he shook with the restraint it took not to take her like a man possessed.

  Her breath shuddered as he filled her up, and she wrapped her legs around his waist, bracing him as he started to thrust in and out. He moved slowly enough that they were both able to watch her body swallow his thick shaft, then he withdrew until just the tip of his erection was inside of her, then pushed forward once again.

  He took a moment to appreciate the sexy slope of her lush, full breasts and tight, suckable nipples—and the way her naked tits bounced every time he shoved back into her. She looked so fucking hot naked, and the whole visual aspect of their position made it all the more erotic.

  It also sorely tested his self-control and made his hips instinctively rock faster and harder against her as his orgasm sizzled to the surface. At this rate, he knew he wasn’t going to last long, and he wanted her with him when he climaxed.

  “Touch yourself,” he said gruffly, unable to move his hands from her hips. “I’m already so damn close. Make yourself come for me.”

  She didn’t hesitate to put her fingers on her clit, another seductive visual that sent a surge of lust pulsing through him. Moaning softly, she circled and rubbed that taut nub of flesh, and his release beckoned like the devil.

  “Come, Samantha,” he growled as he kept up the maddening pace of his thrusts while trying desperately to stave off the searing heat gathering low in his belly and weakening his resolve. “Now.”

  Her eyes glazed over with desire yet remained steady on his face. “Not until you do first,” she said huskily, as those slender fingers continued to stroke over her slick flesh. “I want to watch you.”

  An unbelievable gasp of laughter escaped him at her shameless challenge. She was fucking killing him, in the very best way, and if she wanted to see how wild she made him, then he wasn’t going to hold back, trusting that she wouldn’t be far behind him.

  Breathing hard and clenching his jaw, Clay kept his eyes locked on hers as he pumped into her rhythmically, harder and faster, again and again, until the tight, red-hot friction clasping his cock was more than he could resist.

  Come on, come on, come on, he silently chanted, no longer able to wait for her as his stomach muscles tensed and his release ripped through him. A harsh groan rumbled in his chest as he bucked uncontrollably against her, sensation after sensation battering him like a sledgehammer.

  And just when he thought it couldn’t get any more mind-blowing, her body shook with her own orgasm, and her inner walls gripped him insanely tight, rippling and squeezing every last ounce of pleasure out of his cock until he had nothing left to give.

  Chapter Eleven

  The next two weeks became a regular routine of sex, desserts, and work. But mostly sex and desserts, Samantha thought with a grin as she arranged her just-finished French macarons on a plate. She’d spent every day baking something different, and she’d never been happier or more in her element. Without a doubt, she knew this was what she wanted to do with her life, and she was finally ready to take the next step to make this dream of hers happen.

  Which also meant big changes between her and Clay. He just didn’t know it yet.

  She’d managed to repay him for the clothes and toiletries she’d bought in her first days here, and had saved most of her tip money and weekly pay since. After a lot of deliberation, she’d also pawned the Chopard diamond watch and Mikimoto pearl necklace she’d worn the night she’d come into the bar, and sent the claim ticket to her mother with no return address on the envelope. At least that way her parents had the choice of retrieving the items if they wanted them back. They’d purchased the jewelry for no special reason other than that her mother could afford it and wanted to make sure Samantha only wore the best that well-known designers had to offer. There had been no sentimental value attached to either piece, something that saddened her but made them much easier to part with for cash.

  The high-end jewelry had given her a few extra thousand dollars, which she’d used to open
a checking and savings account at a nearby bank. She’d purchased a cell phone in her own name, as well. She never again wanted to be in the helpless position of not having money of her own. She no longer wanted to depend on her parents for anything other than their love…something she wasn’t sure they’d be willing to provide without strings. And was that really love?

  She shook her head, knowing she might have to accept that her parents weren’t capable of the honest, giving emotion. Something she’d deal with if and when the time came. For now, they’d left her alone, no doubt hoping she’d fail and come running back. Since that wouldn’t be happening, she couldn’t help but wonder what kind of reception she’d receive when she made the attempt to talk to either one of them again.

  All she wanted was to be her own person and be able to make her own choices. To have the freedom to pursue the things that made her happy. To marry a man she fell in love with, instead of being pushed into a marriage that was expected for the sole purpose of keeping a business in the family. She wanted to live in a place she could afford instead of the monstrosity of a mansion her father had built and her mother had decorated, all to impress the other ridiculously wealthy housewives of River Forest, Chicago.

  She was finished with the shallow life from which she’d come. And now that she had the beginnings of a decent-sized nest egg in the bank, it was time to find an apartment of her own. As much as she enjoyed living with Clay, she couldn’t rely on his kindness any longer than necessary, and she couldn’t stay with him forever. Even if that’s what her heart wanted.

  She was well past falling in love with a man who’d made her no promises. In fact, he’d all but told her he didn’t do long-term, committed relationships. She’d known the deal going in, and while that hadn’t bothered her in the beginning, she was gradually coming to realize that she wanted so much more with him.

  She also wanted to believe he felt the same. When his guard was down, usually during sex, she caught glimpses of tender, intimate emotions that gave her hope that maybe, possibly, he’d let her into the part of his life he’d closed off to everyone. His dark, troubled past still haunted him, and she wanted to be there for him now to get him past his demons and introduce him to the wonderful future they could share. But so far, he’d shut down any attempt that she made to bring up his childhood. Other than that one revelation about him as a kid looking longingly into the bakery shop window—which nearly broke her heart—he kept all those other secrets and memories on tight lockdown. She wondered if his brothers even knew the extent of his pain.