~Synopsis~
Dillon Keck knew Ashlyn Mayson was drunk when she suggested they get
married. He knew he should have taken her back to their hotel room and put her
to bed. Instead, he did what he had been craving to do since the moment they
met.
Claim her as his.
Waking up married in Vegas isn't something Ashlyn Mayson ever thought
would happen to her. Having Dillon, her boss, a man she thinks is a dick,
insist they stay married is absurd, but every time he touches her, she gets
lost in him and wonders if maybe they are meant to be together.
But someone isn't happy for Dillon and Ashlyn and their new found
romance, and they're willing to do anything to keep them apart. Even commit
murder.
~Buy links~
Amazon UK: http://amzn.to/2gJmTpn
iBooks: http://apple.co/2gywmiO
Nook: http://bit.ly/2gLa2lj
Kobo: http://bit.ly/2gyqHt0
~Review~
Aurora
Rose Reynolds have made me fall deeply in love her writing again, every time I
get to read one of her books I get this giddy excited feeling because I know
she's most definitely going knock it right out of the ballpark. I fell in love
with Ashlyn and Dillon's story like I did with other books because Aurora knows
the right words to put on paper in order to make us love her characters
and feel every emotions they feel as well. I knew I would get the boom factor
and oh boy what a boom it was, it was absolutely explosive because whatever
that was happening between Dillon and Ashlyn have been brewing for a while and
all it took was one slip up for her to realize that they were meant to be and
whatever that was going on between them wasn't a one sided thing. Then we have
the fact that Aurora's one of the few authors who can write a alpha male so
well that you can't help but to fall in love with him in all in alpha glory,
and let's note get started on the sex scenes, all I have to say is
haaaaaaaaawt. I cannot wait to read Sage's story, I can't wait to see what she
does with his story I have a feeling as always it will be a hot one with a
story line to die for.
~Excerpt~
Chapter 1
Ashlyn
“Hey,
Mom,” I greet, tucking my phone between my ear and shoulder as I shove another
dress and matching heels into my suitcase. I smile while I do, because Dillon
will likely flip his lid when he sees my choices in attire for the weekend, but
there is not one damn thing he can do about it since we won’t be in the office.
So technically, his stupid rules don’t apply.
“Are
you all packed?”
“Almost,”
I sigh, looking at the clock and realizing I only have ten minutes to finish
before my cab is set to arrive. I wasn’t planning on going to Vegas for the
dental convention, but Dillon insisted he needed me with him, and like an
idiot, I agreed.
“Is
Dillon picking you up?”
“No,
I’m meeting him there. His flight left a couple hours ago.”
“Oh.”
She lets out a defeated breath. “Is it just you and him going?”
“I
hope so. I swear if the Wicked Witch shows up, I’ll sell her on the strip to
the highest bidder, or pay someone to take her out to the desert and drop her
off,” I grumble, digging under my bed for my tickler—just in case of an
emergency.
“Call
me if you need an alibi.” She laughs, and I smile, shaking my head, because I
know she’s not lying; she would find a way to be my alibi if something
happened.
“I’ll
call,” I mutter, heading to the bathroom so I can gather my shower supplies.
“Dillon’s
so nice,” she says quietly, and I grit my teeth.
Dillon
is annoying, bossy, and… fine, he can be nice sometimes. Plus, he’s uber-hot,
but I hate him. Okay, I don’t hate him… but I really, really want to.
“How
long are you going to be gone for?” she questions, breaking into my internal
rant.
“Just
four days. My flight gets back Monday night around seven.”
“Promise
you’ll call everyday and check in.”
“I’ll
call or text,” I agree, grabbing my cosmetics case from under the bathroom
cupboard, filling it with all of my makeup.
“Please
try and have some fun while you’re there. Make Dillon take you out to a nice
dinner or dancing.”
Snorting,
I mutter, “Sure, Mom. I love you. I’ll message when I land.”
“Okay,
honey, and don’t forget your dad and I leave Monday for Florida and we’ll be
gone for three weeks.”
“I
haven’t forgotten. Have fun, kiss Grandma and Grandpa, and tell Dad I love
him.”
“Will
do,” she promises softly before I hang up and shove my cell into my back
pocket. Looking at the clock I let out a quiet curse, getting my ass in gear to
finish packing so I don’t miss my flight.
~*~*~
Dragging
my bag behind me toward the reception desk, I’m stunned by how many people are
here wearing nametags stating they’re attending the dental convention. Dillon
mentioned this weekend is one of the largest gatherings of dentists in the
United States, but sheesh, this is crazy. Finally making it to the front of the
line, I smile at the cutie behind the desk.
“How
can I help you, gorgeous?” he inquires once I’m close, and I set my purse on
the counter and pull out my ID, handing it over to him.
“Hi,
I have a reservation.” I yawn, covering my mouth while I listen to the sound of
slot machines going off in the distance. I love the slots—or penny slots to be
exact, since I’m too chicken to play the real ones.
“I’m
sorry, but there is no reservation under your name. Are you sure you’re staying
with us?” he asks, handing me back my ID, and I frown.
“I’m
positive. It may be under my boss’ name, Dillon Keck. He made the
reservations,” I say, and he starts to type again then smiles.
“Got
it. I see here that Mr. Keck has already checked in and requested we give you
your own key to the suite upon arrival.”
“Uh…
what?” I blurt, feeling something close to dread fill my stomach. “Are you
saying he’s staying in that room too?”
“Yes,
it’s a suite with two kings.”
“I
don’t care how many kings are in the room. It’s one room. Right?” I panic,
leaning half over the counter, trying to see his computer screen. “Please tell
me you have another room available?”
“I’m
sorry, but we’re completely booked. This is one of our busiest weekends of the
year.”
“Of
course it is.” I shake my head. “Can you recommend another hotel nearby?”
“Sorry,
but I really doubt anywhere else has an opening.”
“Oh
man… oh man,” I breathe, squeezing my eyes closed. “It’s not a big deal. You
can share a room with him. You’re an adult, and it’s not like you even like
him, right?” I whisper, balling my hands into fists.
“Um,
so do you want me to get you your key?” Opening my eyes, I nod once and his
face softens. “Call down and check. Sometimes we have people call off their reservations
last minute. You never know. Something might open up between tonight and
tomorrow.”
“Sure,
I’ll call,” I agree, wondering what the hell I did to deserve this kind of
karma as I wait there for the room key.
Standing
in the hall outside the door to our room ten minutes later, I pause with my key
card in my hand, not sure if I should knock or just go in. I seriously cannot
believe Dillon booked us in a room together. Actually, I can believe it,
because I think he gets off on annoying me.
“Screw
it. It’s my room too,” I mutter to myself, shoving the key into the card
reader, watching the light turn green. Pushing down on the handle, I turn,
using my shoulder to hold the door open while I drag my suitcase into the room,
fighting with its weight as the door closes, trapping it half way through.
“Shit!”
Turning
my head, I look over my shoulder and almost fall on my ass when my eyes find
Dillon standing in the middle of the room, completely naked, with a pair of
boxers in his hand. His once long hair now short and wet, and a tattoo I didn’t
know he had along his muscled ribs on his side.
“Oh,
my God,” I breathe, turning quickly while attempting to shove my suitcase back
out of the room. I totally did not need to know Dillon looks hotter without
clothes than what my mind had made up, and believe me—my mind had unfortunately
tormented me with thoughts of him naked many times.
“Christ,
you’re a mess,” is muttered from behind me while a very strong arm wraps around
my waist, lifting me off my feet, and my suitcase is tugged from my grasp.
Before I know it, my suitcase and I are both in the room and the door closes
with a soft hiss, trapping me inside.
“Please
tell me you’re not still naked,” I whimper, squeezing my eyes closed, feeling
his arm release me and his heat leave my back.
“I’m
not naked.”
Opening
my eyes, I close them again when I see he’s only got on a pair of form-fitting
black boxers and nothing else. “Put some clothes on.”
“Don’t
tell me you’ve never seen a naked man before.” He chuckles, and the sound of
his laughter makes my teeth grind and my hands drop to my sides.
“I
don’t want to see you naked.” I glare at him while he buttons up a pair of dark
slacks that fit him perfectly.
“You
could have avoided all of this if you had knocked.”
“Really?”
I raise a brow. “You could have ‘avoided all this,’” I make air quotes, “and
gotten me a separate room.”
“They
messed up the reservation.” He shrugs like it’s no big deal, and I feel my eyes
narrow further.
“You
should have called to tell me that, so I could have—”
“You
would have avoided coming,” he cuts me off. “If you knew we were sharing a
room, you would have found an excuse, and I need you with me this weekend.”
“Whatever,”
I grumble, knowing he’s right. I would have canceled the trip if I knew we were
sharing a room, even knowing that being here is a great way to build
connections with other dentists. Especially, if I want to open my own practice
in the future. “We need to set a few ground rules.” I cross my arms over my
chest while I watch him walk across the room toward the bed near the window.
“Later.”
He picks up a dark-blue, almost black, dress shirt and starts to put it on,
which is unfortunate, because now that I’ve seen him shirtless, I’m thinking he
should never cover up again.
“No,
now,” I growl, annoyed with myself for being attracted to the dick.
“Later.”
He holds my glare. “Right now, you need to get dressed. We have reservations in
forty minutes.” He takes a seat on the side of the bed and starts to put on his
shoes.
“What?”
I look at the clock on the wall. It’s after seven at night and I’m exhausted.
All I want to do is climb into bed, order room service, and watch some bad TV.
“We
have a reservation in forty minutes,” he repeats, then stands. “The restaurant
is twenty minutes away, so you have twenty minutes to get ready, unless you
want to wear that.” He motions to my sweats, flip-flops, and hoodie. “I suggest
you change.”
“I
hate you.”
“So
you say,” he says, just barely loud enough for me to hear, as he goes to the
dresser, picking up his watch and putting it on.
“What
did I do to deserve this?” I shake my head, pulling out my hair tie and running
my fingers through my knotted hair.
“You
may want to hurry.”
Holding
his eyes for a minute, I give up my glare then drag my suitcase to the middle
of the room and unzip it. After pulling out one of my favorite “going out”
outfits along with my makeup bag, I go to the bathroom and try to slam the door
closed, but it’s on one of those thingies that prevents me from doing that,
which pisses me off even more.
“Stupid
door. Stupid dick,” I mutter once the door is closed, then get to work on
making myself look halfway decent.
Twenty
minutes later, I look at my refection and lean forward, putting my face an inch
from the mirror, and use my dark-red lipstick for the final touch on my
dramatic makeup look. Since I didn’t have time to do anything with my hair, I
brushed it out and put it up in a bun on top of my head then pulled out a few
pieces to frame my face. Looking at my now blonde hair, I smile. I wasn’t sure
I would like having blonde hair but Kim insisted it would look great on me, and
she wasn’t wrong. Standing back, I place my hands on my hips and take myself
in. My black sleeveless-top, with triangles cut out of the center of the chest
and sides, is sexy but classy, and my red skin-tight pencil skirt, with its
slit up the thigh, shows off just enough skin to draw attention while leaving
everything to the imagination.
Slipping
on my black, pointed-toe, four-inch pumps, I open the door to the bathroom, and
mutter toward where I know Dillon is sitting, “Let me just change my purse and
we can go.”
“You’re
not wearing that.”
“Pardon?”
I ask, pausing in my squatted position in front of my open suitcase to look at
him.
“You’re
not wearing that outfit. Go change.”
“I’m
not changing.” I stand, moving to the desk so I can transfer what I need from
my bag to my clutch. Hearing no reply, my eyes move to where he’s sitting on
the edge of the bed, and I feel my skin warm up and butterflies take off in my
stomach as our eyes lock and his darken.
Licking
my lips that have suddenly gone dry, his eyes drop to my mouth and his jaw
clenches. “I’ll meet you downstairs.” He stands abruptly and moves past me out
the room quickly, letting the door close behind him with a swoosh without
another word.
“What
the fuck was that?” I ask the door, gaining no reply—not that I need one. I
know exactly what that was; I just have no idea what to do with it. Dillon has
always acted professional with me. There has never been a time that I’ve seen
him look at me like he’s interested, but the look in his eyes a moment ago was
primal and not one an engaged man should give another woman, or a boss should
give his employee, ever.
Shaking
off the strange feeling in the pit of my stomach, I finish changing out my bag
then leave the room and make my way through the casino and into the lobby. Not
finding Dillon inside, I head outside to the area the cabs and limos pick up
and drop off, and spot him standing with a group of people. I’m not surprised
he’s surrounded by a gaggle of women and a couple of men. He tends to draw
attention wherever he goes, and it’s something else that annoys me. I hate
being the center of attention, and I don’t really like people who need it to
feel important. Needing a minute to get my head together, I stop a few feet
away and tuck my clutch under my arm.
“Where
you going, gorgeous? ‘Cause wherever it is, I’m there,” a drunk guy, who can’t
be much older than twenty-one, slurs, stumbling up to me. His clothes are
rumpled, his hair in disarray, and if he wasn’t such a mess, he’d be cute. But
sadly, sloppy drunk works for no one.
Ignoring
him, I untuck my purse, open it, and pull out my cell phone, knowing better
than to engage with men like him in his current state.
“So
you’re to good for me?” he slurs, snatching my cell out of my hand, and my eyes
fly up.
“Give
me my phone,” I say evenly, holding out my hand, and his eyes travel the length
of me and his face scrunches up.
“Ho
here thinks she’s too good for me.”
“Mike,
come on. Give her the phone and let’s go,” someone says off to the side, but I
keep my eyes on Mike, with my palm out toward him. My dad insisted I take
martial arts with Jax when I was little. I hated it; I wanted to be a
ballerina, not a ninja, but he was adamant about me being able to protect
myself. Over the years, the skills I learned back then have come in handy, like
now, when all I really want to do is kick the crap out of Mike but know better.
One of the first things I was forced to learn was control, to never lose my
temper. The second thing I learned was to keep my eyes on my enemy at all
times. I was never really good at either, but I still got a black belt in the
end.
“Mike,”
I say softly, taking a step toward him. “I’m going to ask you nicely, once, to
give me my phone. If you don’t, I swear to God I will unleash the Kraken, kick
your ass in front of your friends, and send you home crying to your mother.”
Laughing,
he looks around then his eyes widen as they move behind me. I really, really
want to know what he’s looking at, but I refuse to turn my head and give in.
“Give
her the phone.” The deep rumble of Dillon’s voice sends a chill down my spine.
I’ve only heard him pissed a few times, and I know he’s pissed right now
without even looking at him.
“I…
I… w-was just playin’ man,” Mike stutters out, tossing my phone toward me.
Missing my hands and causing my phone to crash to the ground, and my nostrils to
flare as it shatters at my feet.
“Oh,
shit. Oh, Christ. I’m sorry.” He drops to his knees and begins gathering the
pieces of what used to be my phone then tries to get up, but falls face forward
into my crotch, causing me to stumble back.
“I
can’t believe this shit,” Dillon grumbles, catching me before I fall, then tugs
me out of the way as Mike’s friends decide to finally step in and pick him up
from the ground. “You had to wear that outfit.”
“You
can not be serious right now?” I hiss, swinging my head back and finding him
glaring down at me.
“Deadly.”
“Let
me go.” I try to get free, but his hand on my waist tightens as his eyes leave
mine. Swinging my head in the other direction, I find one of Mike’s friends
standing a few feet away with my phone, looking anywhere but at us, and Mike
off to the side, puking in a trashcan.
“Let
me go,” I repeat, and his arm tightens for a moment before he finally lets me
loose. I really want to scream or throw a fit, but instead, I calmly take my
clutch and open it, holding it out toward the guy and letting him dump the now
useless pieces inside. “You need to get him some Gatorade and toast,” I tell
him, nodding toward Mike.
“Um,
yeah sure. Than…” his words taper off, and the smile that was forming on his
lips slides away as he looks over my shoulder. Rolling my eyes, I watch him
turn quickly and go to Mike to help carry him away, feeling Dillon get close
once more.
“Limo’s
waiting,” he mutters, placing his hand against my lower back, making me tense.
“I’m
not going.” I try to step away, but his hand slides around my waist, bringing
my side into his middle.
“You
are.”
“I’m
not.”
“You
are,” he growls, leaning forward, close… way too close.
“Fine,
you want me there? I’ll go, but just so you know, I plan on getting completely
wasted, so you have just become my chaperone for the evening.”
“You’re
not getting drunk.”
“Wasted,
not drunk. And you better make sure I don’t do anything stupid.” I pat his chest,
ignoring his flashing eyes. With that, I step out of his grasp and start toward
the line of limos then turn to look over my shoulder at him, realizing I have
no clue which one to go to.
Smirking,
he crosses his arms over his chest and raises a brow. “What’s wrong, blondie?
Confused?” His mocking tone and the look of triumph in his eyes does it. I turn
on my heels and head to one of the limos with the driver standing outside
leaning against it. The moment the driver spots me coming in his direction, his
back leaves the car and his eyes rake over me, making my teeth snap together.
“Can
I help you, Miss?”
“Ashlyn
Mayson, get your ass back here,” Dillon snarls behind me, making my palm itch
to smack him.
“I’m
sorry, pumpkin. I thought you said this was our limo.” I fake pout, turning to
look at him and tossing my head to the side for good measure.
“Christ,
you drive me fucking insane.” He walks to where I’m standing, tagging my hand,
and then starts to drag me with him, grumbling under his breath.
“You
know all I want in this whole wide world is to make you happy, pumpernickel,” I
whine, batting my lashes while watching his jaw tic.
Leading
me toward another limo with a driver holding the back door open, he growls,
“Behave.”
“I
swear I’ll be your good girl from now on if you don’t spank me,” I
stage-whisper, and his hand spasms in mine as a smirk forms on his lips.
“You
don’t behave, I’ll bend you over and tan your ass right here.” His words ring
through my ears, making my insides liquid, and then I hear the sound of a male
chuckle as I’m gently forced into the back seat of the dark limo before I can
reply.
“You’re
such a jerk,” I hiss, adjusting my skirt as I move across the leather seats.
“You
started the show we put on. I just ended it,” he mutters, sitting down across
from me and unbuttoning his suit jacket.
“You
started it with the whole ‘blondie’ thing.” I cross my arms over my chest and
glare at him.
“Can
we not do this tonight? Can we get along for one damn evening?”
“You
tell me. I’m not the one who’s bossy and annoying all the damn time.”
“No,
you’re just crazy.”
“Crazy?”
I snort, and his lips twitch ever so slightly. “I’m not crazy.”
“Babe,
you told that kid you were going to unleash the Kraken on him then went on to
tell his friends to get him Gatorade and toast. You’re the definition of
crazy.”
He
may have a point, but instead of agreeing with him, I turn my head to look out
the window and watch the city of Las Vegas slide by.
~*~*~
“Turn
it off. Turn it off,” I croon sleepily as my hand sweeps out in the direction
of the noise blaring from the alarm, missing it over and over as the beeping
continues to torture me.
“Jesus,
shut that shit off.” An arm comes from around me, and silence fills the room as
my body freezes and my eyes spring open, only to close again when the room
spins.
“Oh,
God, why are you in my bed?” I hiss, trying to calm my stomach that feels like
it’s getting ready to empty.
“You’re
in my bed,” Dillon grumbles, sliding his arm around my waist, pulling my ass
back into the crook of his thighs.
“Why
am I in your bed?” I breathe as bits and pieces from last night flash through
my mind, and none of them are good. None of them at all.
“You
wanted to cuddle.” He buries his face in my neck then moves his hand up to cup
my breast. I know I don’t have any clothes on when I feel the hair from his
thighs tickle mine and his finger runs over my nipple. Oh, God. A memory of me
telling him we have so much in common while we both got naked for bed fills my
mind, and then another one pops in and my hand flies up to my face.
I
force my eyes open, trying to focus, and see it there—the small, plain,
white-gold band from the memory of him sliding it on my finger.
“We
got married?” I shout, pulling his hand from my breast.
“We
got married,” he agrees, not sounding upset, but instead, almost proud.
“Oh
shit!” I fly out of the bed and trip over our clothes scattered across the
floor, feeling him catch me right before I land on my face.
“Ash,
calm down.”
“Calm
down? Calm down? Are you insane? We got married last night. Married, Dillon. I
got married to a man who is engaged to another woman!” I yell, then cover my
mouth. “Oh, God, I’m going to hell. I’m so going to hell for this.”
“I’m
not engaged,” he says calmly, giving me a shake.
“I
know your fiancĂ©e!” I screech, attempting to get away from him, only to have
him hold me tighter.
“I’m
not fucking with Isla. Now stop with the crazy.”
“You’re
not with her?” I stop, and he runs a hand through his hair.
“No,”
he states, holding my stare, and my body uncoils just slightly.
“Fine,
I’m not going to hell.” I move away from him and resume pacing. “We need to
find an attorney. I saw loads of advertisements on the strip. We’ll get one and
get this taken care of. It’s no big deal. People get married in Vegas everyday
then get divorced. We will just be one of the ninety percent,” I ramble while
pacing.
“We
are not getting an annulment.”
“Annulment,
right.” I snap my fingers. “That’s even better. No one has to know about this.”
“Listen
to me.” He grabs onto my shoulders, giving me a shake, and my eyes focus on
his. “We are not getting an annulment, or divorced. We got married and are
staying that way.”
“Oh,
God, you were drugged.” I rest my hands against his chest and drop my voice,
“Don’t worry. We’ll go to the hospital and they’ll give you something. Once
you’re better, this will all be taken care of.”
“Jesus
Christ.” He rubs his hands down his face, tilting his head back to look toward
the ceiling. “I’m married to a nut.”
“Hey,
that’s not nice.” I plant my hands on my hips. His head drops, his eyes scan
the length of me, and I realize I’m naked… that we’re both completely naked.
“Dillon.” I take a step back when his eyes meet mine, and his arms swing toward
me. “What are you doing?” I shriek, sidestepping him, only to stumble onto the
bed, where I attempt to roll. But he flips me to my back, his giant body moving
between my legs, and his hands pin my wrists to the mattress over my head.
Panting, I look up into his beautiful blue eyes.
“We
are not getting a divorce,” he snarls, leaning down so his face is mere
centimeters from mine.
“Be
rational.” I lift my hips and my arms, trying to throw him off. “You’re
obviously on—”
Before
I can say more, his head descends and his mouth is covering mine, stealing my
breath along with my soul. The feel of his lips, the taste of him on my tongue,
ignites something deep inside of me, and I kiss him back with everything I am.
Ripping my mouth from his, I pant, “Please let me go.”
“No.”
The word sounds almost primal, and I lean up, placing my mouth back against
his.
“Please,
I want to touch you.”
Groaning,
his hands release my wrists, and my palms fly to his chest and slide up and
over his shoulders, pulling him closer to me as my legs wrap around the back of
his thighs. He kisses me again, this time using his tongue and teeth to torture
me in the most beautiful way possible.
“How
is it possible you taste as good as you look?” he questions, pulling back, but
I have no answer for him. He tastes amazing and having him covering me, his
hardness pressing against my softness, is making my brain short-circuit.
Palming my breast, he slides his thumb over my nipple, causing my hips to jerk
forward. Rolling us again, he settles me on top of him, palms both my breasts,
and then leans up, pulling my right nipple into his mouth, releasing it with a
pop. “When did you get these?” he questions, flicking the tip with his tongue.
“When
I was thirteen.” I smile, and he smiles back then moves to my other breast,
doing the same, only sucking harder, almost punishing.
“When?”
he asks again, and I know he’s asking about my nipple piercings. I got them
with my cousin April a few years back. I wanted a piercing, but needed to be
able to look professional to the outside world, so I got both my nipples done
with simple, almost elegant-looking gold barbells.
“Three
years ago,” I breathe as he tweaks the tiny piece of metal.
“Before
me.”
“What?”
I try to focus, but every time he touches me, my body gets hotter and my focus
depletes. Grabbing my hips, he tugs me forward, dragging my wet center along
his length.
“Soaked.”
He nips my nipple then wraps his hand into the hair at the back of my head,
taking control of my movements as he pulls my mouth to his and thrusts his
tongue between my lips. Lost in his kiss and the feel of him between my legs,
so close to where I need and want him, I squeak when he flips us over and
slides down my body, not giving me a chance to think as his mouth covers me.
“Dillon.”
My hands move through his hair and my hips lift off the bed, offering myself up
to him without thinking about anything but the way his tongue, lips, and teeth
feel as he fucks me with his mouth. “Oh, God. Oh, God, I’m going to come,” I
pant, feeling my toes curl into the bedding and my hands grip his hair. The
touch of his finger rimming just the inside of my entrance sends me over,
shouting his name as I go.
Feeling
him kiss my inner thigh then my belly, over my breasts then shoulder, I come
back to myself lazily.
“Tell
me you want me.” Looking into my eyes while his hand moves between my legs and
his fingers slide though my folds, I know I’ll give him anything. “Tell me you
want me as badly as I want you.”
“I
want you,” I hiss, feeling the very large head of his cock at my entrance, and
then watch his eyes drop between us before my eyes do the same, and I know I
need to tell him. “I—”
Oh,
God, too late… way too late. I bite my lip as he fills me, stretching me.
“Tight,
so goddamn tight.” He pushes in farther and his jaw clenches.
“Hold
on. Please, hold on,” I breathe, and his body stills above me as his eyes
search mine.
“What’s
wrong?”
“I
just need a minute.” I squeeze my eyes closed, feeling like an idiot.
“Baby.”
His fingers slide along my jaw and cheekbone, into my hair. “Do you want to
stop?” he asks gently, making tears sting my nose.
“God,
no.” He feels good, so good. But he’s huge, way bigger than any of my toys.
“You’re just big. So big.” I wiggle my hips and he hisses out a breath,
grabbing my waist.
“Don’t
say that shit when I’m inside of you,” he groans, dropping his forehead to
mine.
“I
have to tell you something, but please don’t be mad.”
“Christ,
what now?” He pulls back, gritting his teeth.
“Stop
being a jerk and let me talk.” I smack his shoulder and he looks down at me,
thrusting in another inch.
“Never
mind. I don’t want to know.”
“What?”
I moan, wrapping my legs around his hips as he slides in a little more.
“If
it’s going to piss me off, I don’t want to know.” He slides out then back in,
and my back arches off the bed as his thick cock fills every inch of me.
“You’re
such a dick!” I cry out as he tosses my leg over his shoulder, changing the
angle of his thrust.
“I
don’t give a fuck about that either.” He drops his mouth, covering mine and
stealing my reply—not that I have time to think about that as his mouth
leisurely travels down my neck to my breast, which he pulls and sucks until I’m
once again shouting his name and hearing mine groaned from his lips as we both
come.
~About the Author~
Aurora Rose Reynolds
is a navy brat who's husband served in the United States Navy. She has lived
all over the country but now resides in New York City with her Husband and pet
fish. She's married to an alpha male that loves her as much as the men in her
books love their women. He gives her over the top inspiration everyday. In her
free time she reads, writes and enjoys going to the movies with her husband and
cookie. She also enjoys taking mini weekend vacations to nowhere, or spends
time at home with friends and family. Last but not least she appreciates
everyday and admires it's beauty.
~Social links~
Website:
http://aurorarosereynolds.com/
Goodreads: http://bit.ly/1pzLVIO
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