Claimed: The Complete Short Romance Series

by Nichole Rose

  He growls right on cue and jerks backward, out of my mouth.

  Before I can say anything, he's got one arm wrapped around me, flipping me onto my hands and knees. He shoves a pillow under my belly to cradle it and then smacks my ass.

  "Daddy!" I cry out, my core clenching so hard it's like a mini orgasm.

  "You're just fucking like me," he growls, seaming his body to mine. "You like it when I get a little rough with you."

  "Yes," I moan.

  "Good girl." He lines up at my entrance and thrusts into me hard.

  I cry out his name, sobbing it into the room.

  "Work yourself on daddy's cock, princess," he says, holding onto my hip with one hand. He runs his lips all across my shoulders, planting kisses everywhere he can reach. "Show me how much you missed me and fuck me like you mean it, little girl."

  I do, rocking forward and then slamming myself backward to impale myself on him. His balls smack against my ass, stinging. I writhe on his cock, sobbing as I set a punishing pace, using him to get me off. He grunts and curses, growling encouragements in my ear in this gritty tone that scrapes against my insides every time he uses it.

  He wraps his fist around my hair, pulling my head back. Our gazes connect.

  "You fuck me so goddamn good," he pants. "Jesus, princess. I'm so fucking crazy about you. How do you do this to me?"

  I try to tell him I don't know, but the words won't come. All I manage to do is moan loudly, completely overwhelmed by the awe in his voice and the devotion blazing like the sun in his eyes. There's so much love there, so much heat.

  "You have daddy so fucking obsessed, princess. I love you. God, how I love you," he says, crashing his mouth down on mine.

  Pleasure blasts through me, and my body clamps down on him. I cry out into his mouth as I come hard…hard enough that the entire world goes black for a minute. I float there, wracked by waves of pure ecstasy as he curses, and then I feel him coming too.

  He groans my name, chanting it as he trembles and shakes, spilling into me and then down my thighs. I feel him all the way down to my soul, claiming that space that belongs to him alone. Nothing feels as right as when he's inside me. Nothing feels as perfect.

  "Caroline, sweet baby," he breathes, somehow rolling us so I'm flat on my back, my stomach protected. He kisses all over my face, raining his devotion down on me. One big hand cups my stomach, cradling it.

  "I can't wait to meet her," I whisper, tears stinging my eyes as a wave of longing goes through me. Being pregnant is so hard because I just want to meet her and hold her in my arms.

  "She'll be here soon, sweet baby," Jared promises me and then groans and pushes himself upright. He places his lips against my belly. "Stay put."

  "'Kay," I say, not planning to move for the next decade. My entire body is still tingling and I can't feel my toes.

  He hops up and strides across the room toward the bathroom. I watch him go, appreciating the sight of his naked ass flexing with each step. He'd probably spank me if he knew how many of those memes I have saved on my phone.

  Once he's out of sight, my eyes drift closed. I place my hand on my belly. Madeline kicks me, which makes me smile. She's always moving around. I think she spends half of each day dancing in my belly.

  "Come on, sweet baby," Jared murmurs a moment later. I feel him wrap his arms around me and lift me up. I curl up against him, content to let him carry me. He makes it look so easy.

  "You're so strong," I mumble, pressing my lips to his shoulder.

  He chuckles.

  "Are we showering?" I ask when I hear the water running.

  "No. We're soaking," he says. "How do I get you out of this?"

  "Oh." I lift my head and reach for the tie that holds the front together. Once it's undone, he helps me slide it off my arms. We have to maneuver a little bit to get it off me because there's so much lace, but he finally manages to do it and places it on the vanity.

  "Hold on to me," he says.

  I immediately wrap my arms around his neck, holding on as he steps over the ledge and into the giant bathtub. Somehow, he manages to get us both into the water without dropping me. The hot water closes over me, pulling a happy sigh from my lips.

  He brushes my hair away from my face, cuddling me close to him. I lay my head on his shoulder, smiling when his free hand settles against my belly. I think one of my favorite things ever is bathing with him. He's always so soft and gentle with me, as if I'm something priceless.

  "I have a surprise for you," he murmurs.

  "If it's more orgasms, I need a nap first."

  "Smart ass." He chuckles. "It's not more orgasms."

  "Oh." I pout. "Now that I think about it, I kind of want another one. Pretty soon, we won't be getting them for a while. We need to stock up."

  Jared laughs quietly. "I like the way you think. But you didn't go without orgasms after the twins were born. I distinctly remember dry humping you all over the house like a goddamn teenager."

  "I like when you dry hump me all over the house," I say, smiling. "It's kind of hot."

  "Damn right it is. Everything about making you come is hot, Caroline."

  Madeline kicks, drawing his attention. He presses his palm more firmly against my belly, his entire body relaxing. He melts like a Popsicle whenever he feels her move, which I love. He is such an incredibly daddy. Our kids love him as much as I do, especially Hermione. He's wrapped around her little finger so tightly. I know he's going to be the same way with Madeline.

  "Hi, sweet girl. You plan on coming out anytime soon?" he asks her.

  She kicks him again.

  "I feel guilty for wishing she would come already," I murmur, cracking my eyes open to watch him track her little movements with his hand. "But I'm so excited to meet her."

  "Me too."

  We stay quiet, just enjoying feeling her move, until she finally settles down again.

  "I cancelled the rest of my tour."

  "What?" I blink wide eyes at him. "You cancelled your tour?"

  "I did." He turns those mossy green eyes on me. "Two months is long enough, sweet baby. I'm ready to be home with you and the kids again. I want to be here when the baby arrives, not running from event to event."

  "Jared."

  "I'm relieved," he says. "The whole last two months, I've felt like shit, dragging you from bookstore to bookstore when you should be at home with your feet up."

  "I love going with you," I murmur, reaching up to place my palm against his cheek. "Supporting you is one of my favorite things. I'm so damn proud of you, Jared."

  "I know, sweet baby," he promises, reaching out to turn off the faucet before the tub overflows. "And I love you for that, but you took time a sabbatical to rest. I want you at home relaxing, not sitting around a bookstore for hours on end. And I want to be here with you."

  "What did your publisher say? Oh my gosh, what did Jocelyn say?" I ask, worried she might be mad about it. I love her. She fights so hard to protect him and his work. I don't want her to be upset over this or drop him as a client.

  "They're fine with it," he promises me. "We only had a handful of events left. They'll just reschedule them for later in the year. They owed me for moving the release up anyway. I wouldn't have agreed to it had I known they were going to try to cram an event onto my schedule every day before the baby gets here."

  "They're proud of you."

  "They're thrilled with the money I make them," he says. He's still a little jaded about publishing, but he likes his publisher. And I know he loves having his sister in his corner. He never has to worry about her screwing him over because she would never do that to him. I think she's the only reason he decided to give publishing another shot.

  "Well, they can be thrilled about the money and I'll be proud enough of you for all of us," I decide, snuggling up in his arms and closing my eyes. "But you don't have to cancel the tour, Jared. I'll be fine for a few more days."

  "Princess," he says, his voice firm. "I don't want
you to be fine. I want you to be happy. All the stress isn't good for you or for Madeline. It's not good for me either. I fucking hate sharing you with the world."

  "No one has bothered me in a while," I remind him.

  "They shouldn't bother you at all," he growls, which makes me smile. He's so possessive. I think he's still pissed that one guy tried to give me his phone number.

  "If you really want to cancel your tour, I won't try to stop you," I murmur. "I've missed having time with you."

  "I know." He runs his hands across me, trying to soothe me. "I've missed you like fucking crazy, princess. No more long tours like this. It's too much."

  "Okay," I whisper.

  He tilts my face up to his, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of my mouth. "I'm all yours, sweet baby."

  "You've always been all mine," I say, smiling because it's true. From the minute we met, he's been mine and I've been his. Nothing will ever change that. Nothing ever could change that.

  "Yeah, I have," he breathes, slipping his hand down my body and then plunging it into the water between my legs.

  I melt for him all over again.

  Kissing Kennedy

  Book Four

  About the Book

  Two worlds will collide when an older tattoo artist meets his innocent future.

  Asher

  Kennedy Thorne is an obsession I can't shake.

  One look into those big green eyes, and I'm hooked.

  But the two of us are from different worlds.

  I'm rough, dirty, and rude, with a past I can't hide.

  She's an innocent little angel with big dreams and a bright future ahead of her.

  But an angel this sweet was made to be corrupted.

  I'd follow her to hell if she asked it of me. I'll give her heaven if she lets me.

  Because I don't care what anyone says…she belongs to me.

  Kennedy

  Asher Reynolds is the perfect storm…big, fierce, and unexpected.

  He's also the most beautiful man I've ever seen.

  His tattoos tell a story I'm dying to know. So do his eyes.

  Everyone treats me like I'm helpless.

  Not him. He sees me. He knows me.

  And he treats me like I'm his.

  But his life is in Nashville, and my future isn't.

  Can I really have him and my dreams, or are we destined for heartbreak?

  Warning

  Two worlds collide when this bossy older man meets his talented younger woman. If instalove, an obsessed tattoo artist, a good girl with big dreams, and a wedding hookup sound like a match made in heaven, you'll adore Asher and Kennedy in this sweet, steamy romance. As always, a sticky sweet, and guaranteed HEA is coming your way.

  Chapter One

  Asher

  "Jesus," I mutter, stopping just inside the door of the venue where my foster brother, Elliot Tricine—Trick to his friends—and his fiancée, Sophie, are holding their rehearsal dinner. The place is packed full of people…and Trick does not like people. Especially when they come in crowds. He may have gotten softer since finding his girl, but I don't think even she's capable of working that kind of miracle.

  I glance around the crowded room, spotting the man in question at a table set up so his back is to the wall and the whole room is visible. His girl is seated beside him, with other members of the wedding party spread out around them. Most everyone is finished eating. I guess they're all waiting on me so we can get to the rehearsal part of this rehearsal dinner.

  Shit.

  My gaze lands on a brunette standing beside the table and I falter in mid-step, losing track of everything as my thoughts scatter and my field of vision narrows in on her. She's tiny, but she isn't a kid, no fucking way.

  Her pretty green dress clings to her soft curves, showing off her gorgeous body. Her tits are incredible, way too big for her small frame. Her hips flare out from her trim waist in a way that makes my hands clench with the desire to grip them tight while she's riding me. She has her head thrown back, her long brown hair tumbling down her back as she laughs at something Sophie is saying to her. Her smile lights up the entire room.

  My hand twitches with the desire to capture her on paper and immortalize her in ink. The soft curve of her cheek, the stubborn tilt of her chin…the delicate slope to her collarbones. Innocence drips from her, but she isn't fragile or breakable. She's malleable, like hot iron on a forge.

  She's maybe twenty-one. At thirty-six, I'm too old and jaded for her. Try telling my dick that, though. He's stiffening in my pants as I watch her like a Grade-A creep, transfixed by the way her body flows from one small movement to the next. It's effortlessly graceful and artless, as if she's wholly in the moment and oblivious to how captivating she is.

  There's something fascinating about her that has my full attention. My dick isn't the only thing reacting to her. My skin feels stretched as I watch her, my body buzzing with an energy I've never felt before. My heart actually races as desire screams through my veins, setting my blood on fire with a powerfully potent mix of need and base lust. In all my life, I've never experienced anything like it. I've never reacted like this to a woman, period.

  They're irritants in my life, bringing drama best avoided. They find their way into my chair time and again, hoping for more than my art inked into their skin. I never give them what they want. Most of the time, they get offended and stomp out. Sometimes, they come back. Sometimes, they don't. I don't care one way or another. My art speaks for itself. I don't need their praise. Mixing business and pleasure is a train wreck waiting to happen, and I have no interest in going for that ride.

  I may not look like the traditional businessman thanks to my ink and piercings, but I'm not fucking stupid. I know my shit. Crimson Ink is the premier studio in Nashville. Our clients wear our ink with pride. Everyone from musicians to politicians seek us out when they're craving the thrill, and we deliver. Every damn time.

  No pussy is good enough to risk that reputation.

  Until the little brunette turns her head and our eyes meet. A jolt ricochets through me, rattling me all the way to my core. My entire system overheats, fireworks exploding like rapid fire inside me. She's not just beautiful, she's fucking gorgeous, with full lips, dimples, and high cheekbones. Even from all the way across the room, I can see the intelligence glinting in her big green eyes. I also see the way they widen as she stares at me.

  Her laughter fades, her lips parting slightly. "Wow," she mouths.

  I grin, loving that she likes what she sees. I'm six-four and broad through the shoulders, with gray eyes and a mean stare I gave up trying to gentle long ago. I look like I'd be more at home in boxing gloves and a ring than a family-friendly restaurant. I don't know who she is, but most girls who look like her run from guys who look like me. That she isn't afraid reinforces my earlier opinion. She's innocent as an angel, but she's not fragile.

  Color blooms on her cheeks, staining them red. Her shoulders curve as if she's trying to hide herself from me. Her hair falls over her face like a screen, hiding those eyes. Is she shy?

  Fuck, I bet she'll blush everywhere when I'm eating her cunt.

  She peeks at me again. Her tongue rolls across her bottom lip, leaving it wet and glistening. I groan, precum dripping from my cock and my balls aching.

  Somehow, I manage to rip my gaze away from her long enough to discreetly readjust myself in my pants. If I don't, there's no way I'm going to make it to the other side of this restaurant without properly traumatizing everyone I pass.

  My heart sinks when I look up again.

  A bottle blonde stands in place of the brunette, tugging at the hem of her too short skirt. I whip my head around, scanning the restaurant for the brunette, but she's gone.

  What the fuck? Where is she? Who is she?

  A gnawing pit of frustration opens in my stomach.

  I plunge into the crowd, determined to find her. By the time I reach the far side of the restaurant, she's long gone, leaving not ev
en a trace of where she went.

  "Where'd she go?" I growl, stomping toward Trick and Sophie who are cuddled up, whispering back and forth. Judging by the way Sophie's blushing, I do not need to hear whatever my brother is saying to her.

  "Who?" Sophie asks.

  "The tiny brunette who was just standing here." I pace in front of the table, unable to settle. I think I may be losing my mind. One minute, she was standing right here in this very spot. The next, she was gone.

  I briefly wonder if I just imagined her, but quickly cast that thought aside. I may make a living drawing the crazy shit that pops into my head, but not even I'm talented enough to conjure up that kind of beauty. She's the sweetest little thing I've ever seen, hands down.

  Besides, she looked right at me before she disappeared. My whole body lit up as soon as her eyes were on me. She blushed bright red when I smiled at her. I didn't imagine any of that.

  I need to know who she is. Right now.

  "Who?" Trick asks as if he didn't see her.

  "The brunette." I shove a hand through my hair, glaring at him. "Big green eyes, dimples. Barely taller than anything." I hold my hand up about chest high to demonstrate. I'm a big son of a bitch, but I doubt she'd even come up that high on Trick.

  Trick and I grew up in foster care together. Neither of us knew our real parents or where we came from. We were cast-off kids, tossed in the system before we were even old enough to feed ourselves. But if someone told me he was descended from a race of giants, I wouldn't doubt them.

  He's one scary looking son of a bitch. Has the skills to back it up too. The shit he did overseas, well, there's a reason he doesn't like crowds and it isn't the kind that makes you sleep warm and cozy at night. He was a hero over there long before I got out a decade ago. He was a hero over there long after I left too. He enjoyed the life. I just wanted to put down roots and set up shop.

  He looks at me and then at Sophie like he has no fucking clue who I'm talking about. Jesus. He probably doesn't. I don't think he's noticed that other women even exist since he found Sophie. He doesn't take his eyes off her long enough to note their existence.