A faceless name. That’s all she was when I agreed to play a part in deceiving her. But then the unplanned happened.
We met. And all I wanted from her was a dirty weekend . . . until that wasn’t enough and I longed for so much more.
Lawrence Thorn suddenly means the world to me. And that’s a problem. She’s my business partner’s sister. Forbidden fruit. Pursuing her can mean trouble for me at Lovibond Brewery. But I don’t care.
I yearn for her skin against mine.
I crave her smell on my body.
I want to make her laugh and then hear her moan my name.
And she does for a brief moment in time.
But Lawrence wants more than I’m able to give. And it’s a damn shame because there’s no one on earth I want more than her.
An epic love.
A miserable ending.
Unless it’s not.
Lucas Broussard
“I told you I didn’t need a man to feel complete. I meant that.” I’m going to make her come
so hard she’s going to know what she’s been missing.
I stroke the back of my hand down her cheek. Soft. Smooth. Delicate. “You’re beautiful,
Wren.”
Most of the women I’ve been with are too skinny, and they hide behind masks of cosmetics.
But not Wren. She’s an all-natural woman.
She’s very different from Bridgette, yet alike in many ways.
Both make me laugh.
Both put me at ease.
Both are so genuine.
I rub her hip and there’s actually something there to grab instead of skin-covered bone.
Skinny isn’t attractive to me. I like curves and shape. Wren is everything I like in a woman.
She strokes my face again, running the tips of her fingers through my facial hair. “I love this,
Brou. It’s my idea of manly beauty.” I’m used to being called Boudreaux. But I can get used to
Brou if it’s coming from her.
“Manly beauty.” This is the second time she’s made a reference about me being manly.
Makes me wonder if she’s ever been with a man she considers masculine. Well, I’m going to
show her how much of a man I am. And not just once.
I lower myself until I’m hovering over her. I press my lips to the side of her neck as I grasp
the back of her thigh and bend it at the knee. That’s it, baby. Wrap it around me.
I glide my hand up the back of her smooth leg until it’s inside her shorts. And panties. Same
song from last night. Second verse. But it’s palm against bare ass this time.
I wonder what she’d do if my fingers left the safety of her ass cheek and moved to that
sensitive place between her legs. Let’s find out.
It’s been a long time for Wren. I don’t want to rush this so I move slowly, gliding my hand up
to her waist before moving it lower. She jolts when I touch her groin. “Sorry. I’m terribly ticklish
there.” Duly noted. I’ll use that to my advantage later.
I move my hand away from the bend of her leg closer to her center. “What about that?
Better?”
“Yes.” The single word comes out in a soft whisper. Time to take her breath away, as
promised.
She pants as the tips of my fingers stroke her through the wet crotch of her panties. I’ve
barely touched her and she’s drenched. Physical proof of her arousal and desire for me. Fucking
beautiful.
I push her panties aside and drag my finger up her wet center. She jolts when I graze her clit.
Given it’s been a long time, she’ll be more sensitive than ever. That’s going to make this even
hotter.
I take my hand out of her panties and suck her slick moisture from my fingers. “Mmm . . .
you are delicious. I can’t wait to taste you fully.”
She reaches up a
nd rubs my bottom lip. “You have a dirty mouth.”
“I have a greedy mouth. Lucky you.”
Georgia resides in rural Mississippi with her wonderful husband, Jeff, and their two beautiful daughters. She spent fourteen years as a labor and delivery nurse before she decided to pursue her dream of becoming an author and hasn’t looked back yet.
When she’s not writing, she’s thinking about writing. When she’s being domestic, she’s listening to her iPod and visualizing scenes for her current work in progress. Every story coming from her always has a song to inspire it.
Representation: All questions regarding subsidiary rights for any of my books, inquiries regarding foreign translation and film rights should be directed to Jane Dystel of Dystel & Goderich.
Georgia resides in rural Mississippi with her wonderful husband, Jeff, and their two beautiful daughters. She spent fourteen years as a labor and delivery nurse before she decided to pursue her dream of becoming an author and hasn’t looked back yet.
When she’s not writing, she’s thinking about writing. When she’s being domestic, she’s listening to her iPod and visualizing scenes for her current work in progress. Every story coming from her always has a song to inspire it.
Representation: All questions regarding subsidiary rights for any of my books, inquiries regarding foreign translation and film rights should be directed to Jane Dystel of Dystel & Goderich.
0 comments:
Post a Comment