Bad Boy's Baby Part 40

"No way. You're not a..." My voice trailed off. Uh-oh, was I staring at his muscles? "You're not a behind the desk sort of guy."

"No, ma'am. I'm military."

No wonder he was built. I swallowed and thought my tongue went with it.

"SEAL, actually," he said.

"Seal?" My eyes widened. "Oh! A Navy SEAL?"

"Yeah. On leave for a bit." He took another swig. "Gotta take care of this legal stuff. Deal with family. You know how it is."

Oh, Charmer was more than some c.o.c.ksure college kid. Much, much more.

d.a.m.n it, I wanted to just sit in the quiet for a while and feel sorry for myself. Somehow I found the one guy who not only wanted to talk, he actually seemed to understand. I sighed. The rest of my week was already trashed. No reason to not ruin tonight as well. I flagged the bartender.

"Another round," I said. "No sense for us to hate our fathers alone."

"I'll drink to that," he said.

The gla.s.ses clinked, celebrating our impending regrets.

Somehow, I knew I'd learn one h.e.l.l of a lesson from this mistake.

A very hard lesson.

Chapter Two - Zach.

Jesus f.u.c.k.

Her blouse unb.u.t.toned.

Jesus f.u.c.k.

She kicked off a shoe.

Jesus f.u.c.k.

Her stockings were thigh-highs. The thin lace caressed her caramel legs, dark and luxurious and stretching to her G.o.dd.a.m.ned chin.

The door crashed behind me. Behind us. h.e.l.l if I knew or cared.

f.u.c.k this was a mistake.

My apartment had more alcohol unpacked than clothes. Or furniture. Or anything. I wasn't planning on staying long.

And I wasn't planning on f.u.c.king the most beautiful woman I had ever seen on an unmade bed. She deserved better than a ratty comforter and wet bath towel thrown over the footboard.

She didn't care.

Christ, this woman.

I tangled my fingers in thick, jet-black waves of absolute elegance. Her lips-full and puffy and abso-f.u.c.king-lutely perfect to suck my c.o.c.k-devoured me. She kissed like she hadn't been kissed in years.

Who in their right mind wouldn't kiss this woman?

And what a.s.shole would proposition her to his apartment knowing who she was, what she was dealing with?

This a.s.shole.

I pretended that I was a guy who saw what he wanted. Tasted what tempted him in the nibbling pulse of her lips. I needed more than just a couple kisses goodnight and a tug in the shower to relieve the beast such a beauty awakened. In reality, this mistake would f.u.c.k me over quicker than I could say on your knees.

I had two choices.

Be a gentleman...which I wasn't. Tell her to pull that silky strip of cloth back over the most beautiful and softest p.u.s.s.y I had ever seen. b.u.t.ton my pants. Shake her hand and walk to her car.

Or.

I could do what came naturally.

f.u.c.king her was the easier decision. It was also the wrong decision, but it wasn't like I followed anyone's orders anymore. I was my own man.

And this man wanted a woman.

I pushed her on my bed, spread her lovely midnight legs apart, and I feasted on a p.u.s.s.y so wet and hot I considered grabbing my dive gear and sinking in as deep as I possibly could.

Volcanic.

That's what Shay was.

A G.o.dd.a.m.ned volcano all molten and ready to blow. A G.o.ddess slickening to be taken. A demand waiting to be filled.

This woman deserved candlelight and champagne and some sort of twinkly-a.s.s music to serenade her while I licked every inch of her delicious slit from top to bottom and back again.

Jesus Christ, what was I doing?

And why did it get me so G.o.dd.a.m.ned hard?

"Zach, oh G.o.d."

And now her arms were up. She stretched out completely on the bed, spread her legs, and f.u.c.king surrendered to my lapping tongue. Her b.r.e.a.s.t.s puffed-perfectly round and delicious and desperate to be sucked. She wasn't a super thin woman, but that got me harder. Curves. Hips. t.i.ts. And G.o.d, that a.s.s.

The things I could do to that a.s.s.

Blood pounded in my ears. I was d.a.m.n surprised any of it got away from my c.o.c.k. I gripped myself, shamelessly tugging at the thickening length as I savored every bit of her honeyed wetness offered from a perfect slit.

I had to take it.

I had to feel it.

My tongue wasn't enough to properly sate a woman who begged-cried out my name and begged-for more attention. With aching and deliberate care, I licked my hand, teased her slit, and pushed a single finger within a heat more delicious and unreal than any p.u.s.s.y I ever had the pleasure to claim for my own.

"More!" Shay gasped.

Who was I to argue with the lady?

Then again...

She would hate me for this.

f.u.c.king h.e.l.l, Shay was going to skin me alive.

It wasn't fair. This woman redefined pa.s.sion and l.u.s.t. She had a p.u.s.s.y tight enough to cut off the blood flow to my finger. I never wanted anyone more than her, and she was the worst possible woman for me to f.u.c.k. Christ, I couldn't catch a break.

It didn't stop me from jerking my c.o.c.k harder.

Once she realized who I was, this woman would kill me in two ways.

First she'd squeeze my c.o.c.k off in her perfect, velvet vice.

Then, when she was spent and sweaty from my pounding and I could properly introduce myself, she'd rip my head off. That wouldn't feel as nice as her tightness.

I should have stopped. I knew better. But how often would a man get the opportunity to f.u.c.k a G.o.ddess? I'd be an idiot to miss out, even if it ended with a black eye. h.e.l.l, I lived every day like it was my last before my accident. Now that I survived death and flicked off the reaper with two proud middle fingers, I wasn't letting anything stop me from enjoying life-certainly not this crisis of conscience.

Besides, the lady was in obvious agony. It'd be cruel to pull away from her when she needed me the most. Her lips trembled my name, her delicate little slit wetted over my hand, and, d.a.m.n if she hadn't wound tighter than a parachute waiting to be deployed.

I could either retreat or dive in headfirst.

I chose the latter.

My finger inched in deeper. She bucked up to meet it. Her beautiful body tensed, waiting in shivering bliss for that moment when I'd let her shudder around me. I took pride in my piloting. No one crashed under my command.

Except me.

But I was ignoring that headache while the s.e.xiest woman in existence writhed beneath my body.

I teased her, twisting my fingers and testing a tightness so perfect it was a sin. She dug into the mattress and moaned. Her coo was a beautiful sound. After months of closed blinds and soundproof headphones, I'd listen to Shay repeat my name with breathless excitement for an entire night.

And I planned to do just that.

My shirt was already off. Shay said nothing about the scars, but I knew she got off on them. The injury f.u.c.ked up a tattoo that cost five grand, but at least the st.i.tches were out and the medics shoved everything in me that belonged inside me. I leaned over Shay, capturing her perfect lips in another kiss.

She went right for the scars.

Gentle touches. Strokes. Always the same. It wasn't just my muscles. She didn't care how many knots I could tie underwater with a single breath of air or how many missions I led. It was the scars.

The f.u.c.king scars.

I hated the jagged purple streaks.

Women couldn't get enough of them.

It didn't make me tough. It made me worthless. I shoved her hands away and bound them over her head in my grip. She liked that too.

Only got my c.o.c.k harder.

"Zach...I don't normally do this with strangers," Shay whispered. "Actually...I never do this."

She wore a pencil skirt and librarian gla.s.ses. Shay looked every bit the part of a repressed schoolgirl and Christ if her tight little slit didn't prove my gut instinct about her.

But I wasn't about to admit that I did these sorts of things with women less deserving than her. I grinned.

"Are you being a bad girl?"

Her almond eyes flashed with a cocoa darkness. "What? You aren't a bad boy?"

"Baby, I'm the worst."

"Prove it."

This woman. This G.o.dd.a.m.ned woman.

I reached over the nightstand and shuffled through the drawer, pulling my fingers from her greedy little p.u.s.s.y. She groaned in my absence.

"I got something better for you," I promised.

Her quirked smile teased me. "Something hard?"

For her? I was about ready to split my d.a.m.n skin. I peeled the rubber over my c.o.c.k and positioned her legs around me. She arched as I sucked against her breast, tasting the offering, as rich as chocolate and as soft as silk.

She might have hated me tomorrow.

But d.a.m.n it, she would love me tonight.

With one fluid motion, I sunk my c.o.c.k into the hottest, wettest, tightest p.u.s.s.y I ever had the privilege of taking. A full stroke. A single, punishing thrust that stole her breath and pinched her eyes shut against the invasion of her lifetime.

She moaned and welcomed me deeper. If I had it my way, I'd never f.u.c.king pull out of her again.

Shay tensed, offering more of that sweet, perfect temptation between her legs. I happily obliged, withdrawing only to tease myself with her mind-numbing tightness. Shay's wanting p.u.s.s.y clenched and tormented my c.o.c.k. I bottomed out in her with an inch to spare. No way was I denying me or her that pleasure. I'd cram that last bit in her even if I had to spun her around and bury myself in her sweetness all night.

Not a bad thought.

She agreed.