Nicola Marsh - Sweet Thing / Make Me Want

She pointed to my cock and I chuckled again. ‘You’re a very bad girl.’

‘Not yet, but I’m hoping to be.’ She crooked her finger at me. ‘Come here and corrupt me.’

I knew this was her fantasy. To have me, the tattooed bad boy, fuck her to eradicate her boring past. Yet for one crazy, inane moment, I wanted her to see me as more than that.

I wanted her to see past my well-honed tough guy persona and want me, Tanner King. Really want me.

Annoyed, I grabbed my jeans off the floor and snagged a condom out of my wallet.

Her tongue darted out to moisten her lips as she watched me roll it on, her expression wondrous.

‘You sure you’re not a virgin?’

A faint pink stained her cheeks. ‘I just haven’t done it in this much light before.’

Shit. Her ex really must’ve been a dickhead not to want to see every inch of this glorious woman as he slid inside her.

With an exaggerated wink, I knelt next to the sofa. ‘All the better to see you with, my dear.’

Her lips curved into a naughty smile. ‘I want to watch too.’

Which meant I needed to put on a show she’d never forget.

But all my intentions to take things slow shot to shit when she slid her ankles apart and her thighs fell open. Giving me an eyeful of moist folds and exactly where I wanted to be.

I grabbed her legs and half turned her, so she was slumped against the sofa with her legs dangling down. Dragging her towards me, I scooted forward on my knees, positioning myself while trying to stop the urge to drive into her and not stop until she screamed my name.

‘It’s even bigger close up,’ she whispered, her audible awe making me grin.

‘Maybe you’re looking at it through a side mirror?’

She laughed and damned if it wasn’t the sweetest sound I’d ever heard.

I didn’t usually swap banter during sex. And I rarely laughed. I got in and out. Got the job done. Got off. Felt good. That was it.

And even though we hadn’t got to the good part yet, sex with Abby was different.

We connected beyond the bits fitting together.

It disarmed me.

So I focussed on doing what I did best. Ensuring she had a good time.

‘Watch me,’ I commanded as I gripped my cock in my hand and pressed the head against her clit. Circling it. Rubbing into her slick folds and back again. Over and over until her breath came in pants and her hips shifted restlessly.

‘That feels so good.’ She propped up on her elbows to watch and I increased the pressure, gritting my teeth against the tension building in my balls.

I’d already warned her about taking this slower later and it would have to do because right now I needed to be inside her so damn bad.

‘More,’ she gritted out, sweat beading between her breasts as she started to writhe.

‘You got it, sweetheart.’

I gave her clit one last rub and as her orgasm started I slid into her. Hard. To the hilt. Sheathed in tight, wet pussy.

Heaven.

I thrust into her fast, using my thumb on her clit as she screamed, desperate to milk every last drop of pleasure out of her.

She surged upward, bringing her breasts into my face, and I took one in my mouth, laving her tight nipple while thrusting into her.

‘Too sensitive,’ she gasped, wrenching her nipple from my mouth and leaning back on her outreached arms. ‘Want. To. See.’

So I let her.

I slid in and out. Harder. Faster. Oblivious to everything but watching her, watching me.

Damned if it wasn’t the hottest frigging thing I’d ever seen.

My balls tightened and my mind blanked the moment before I thrust into her one last time. As far as I could go.

The most intense pleasure crashed over me. Wiping me out. Mindless. Boneless.

Conscious of nothing but this woman.

Abby.

My eyes must’ve closed at some point because when I opened them Abby was staring at me like I’d just given her the keys to the best patisserie in Paris.

‘That was amazing,’ she whispered, reaching for me. ‘I never knew it could be so good.’

‘Just good?’ I slid my arms around her, cradling her close. Another first for me after sex. I wasn’t a cuddler. ‘Guess I better lift my game for the rest of the night.’

I couldn’t see her face with it buried against my chest, but I sensed her smile.

But as she continued to hang onto me like she’d never let go, the first feelings of remorse flooded me.

For me, this would be a night of amazing sex and I’d walk away in the morning. Back to being Tanner King, the guy everybody labelled, the guy everybody judged, the guy everybody tried to get close to but couldn’t.

No matter how stupendously good the sex, tonight wouldn’t change me.

Could Abby say the same?

CHAPTER NINE

Abby

I HURT. In places I’ve never hurt before.

Even now, fifteen hours since I left Tanner’s bed in the wee small hours, my muscles twang as a reminder of what I’ve done.

And how much I enjoyed it.

I didn’t know whether to be relieved or annoyed when Tanner didn’t front at Le Miel today. Whatever his reason, I couldn’t keep the smile off my face.

What we’d done at the club, and later at his apartment...defied logic.

I should never have had sex with Tanner.

So why did I not give a damn that I had?

When he’d taken me to that private room at his club, I’d anticipated having a drink, then leaving. Then he’d got angry, taken off his shirt and I’d lost it.

I didn’t usually ogle guys. Sure, I appreciated a fine male body on Bondi Beach in summer like any woman with eyes in her head, but I didn’t fantasise about what guys looked like underneath their clothes.

Yet the second Tanner had shrugged off his shirt in defiance I’d wanted to see more. I’d wanted to see all of him.

I must’ve said the wrong thing and his misplaced anger had prompted him to strip. That was the point I should’ve called for a cab. Or laughed it off as a joke. Or done anything other than practically drool all over him.

He’d been a good sport about my naivety. Had tried to put me at ease with banter and I’d appreciated it. What I didn’t appreciate was my own stupidity wishing I could have more of him.

When I quashed my voice of reason and my inner vixen insisted I deserved one night of sexy fun, it should’ve ended there. One night.

But after he’d pleasured me countless times with his mouth, his fingers and his very talented and sizeable appendage, I wanted more.

Of course, I hadn’t said anything. Instead, I’d been the epitome of casual, like I had one-night stands every day of the week, when he’d kissed me goodnight. If he’d seen through my bravado act, he didn’t call me on it. For that, I was grateful.

Because I’d bolted in the wee small hours when he’d been asleep, and during the twenty-minute ride from his penthouse apartment in the city to my apartment over Le Miel I replayed every single moment of our night together and knew that acting like last night didn’t mean anything the next time I saw Tanner would take monumental acting skills I didn’t possess.

Bardley had always taunted me for being too readable. But he’d been wrong. If I were that easy to read he would’ve seen my loathing for him on my face every single day.

Thanks to Tanner, I now knew our lacklustre sex life hadn’t been my fault. How many times had Bardley called me frigid or cold or worse? Saying I didn’t turn him on. That I was as useless in the bedroom as I was in the kitchen.

I hadn’t cared about the sex, but insulting my cooking had been a low blow, particularly since I knew I baked like a dream even back then.

Screw him.

Though thankfully, I’d never have to do that again and courtesy of last night I’d replaced memories of a sad sex life with phenomenally amazing erotic ones.