LINDY
It wasn’t until Dex James that I started having sex dreams.
I didn’t want to open my eyes because this dream felt too good. A warm hand on my thigh held me open, the other cupped my breast. And a mouth… a wicked, talented mouth was on my pussy.
No, this wasn’t a dream. This was sex reality.
“Mmmmmmmm,” I practically purred, writhing with pleasure.
“Morning, sugar.”
That deep voice. The rasp. This was really happening.
Dex James was having me for breakfast.
Yes. Yes!
“God, I love waking up like this,” I said, rolling my hips, trying to get more contact with my clit and his mouth. Although Dex never needed much help getting those two together.
“I love this pussy,” he growled, then did some kind of swirly thing with this tongue.
I smiled at his praise, tilted my head down and opened my eyes for the perfect sight. A tanned, heavily veined forearm led to fingers that were tugging my sensitive nipple. God, arm porn. Lower still, Dex’s head between my thighs.
He glanced up and pierced me with those dark eyes as he gave me one full lick.
I titled my head back, stared at the vaulted ceiling. For a moment, I forgot where we were.
Oh yeah. Las Vegas. The golf tournament. Dinner. Then…
“Dex,” I said, settling my hands on his head, tangling my fingers in his dark hair. Right there. Yes. Right. There.
“Hmm?” he asked, the vibrations right on my clit had me whimper.
It was really hard to talk. And think. And get tongue fucked. “I… what happened last night?”
He lifted his head, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. His hair stuck up every which way. His eyes were heated, but sleepy. Whiskers covered his square jaw. “You don’t remember?”
“Don’t stop while I think about it,” I said, pushing his face beneath the edge of the sheet and back to my pussy.
“If you’re thinking, I’m doing it wrong,” he practically growled.
With that statement, he added fingers inside me to the mix and got me from sleeping to screaming fast enough to make him always feel ridiculously proud of himself.
He should be. When my screams turned to moans and then to gasping breaths, he crawled up my body, kissing his favorite spots on the way.
“I don’t remember how we got here,” I said with even more mental fog.
“Vegas or this suite?”
I pursed my lips, trying to think. It was pretty much impossible after what he just did. “After dinner last night is all a blur.”
“Um… yeah. We had a lot to drink.” He shifted and flopped down beside me. “I loaded us up on water and painkillers before we crashed.” He tipped his chin toward the bedside table where the empty plastic bottles were. “How are you feeling? Hopefully you aren’t hung over.”
He stretched his arms overhead and I watched every play of his
is muscles. He was hard beneath the low-slung sheet. The tenting was impossible to miss.
I looked. And yes, it jumped. No, it grew. And grew some more.
“No. I’m okay,” I told him, but I had a little headache. Distracted.
“Good. Pre-gaming’s over. Come here, sugar.”
He tugged me toward him for a kiss.
“Gah, morning breath from hell,” I said. My teeth felt furry. “You know I need to brush my teeth. This time I’m saving you from roadkill breath.”
He grinned, clearly having no issue with bad breath. But he always humored me. Because once the funk was replaced with minty freshness, he never let me up until we were both wilted and satisfied.
He lay there as if he were in a sexy men’s calendar while I dashed to the bathroom in a pale blue nightie, the one I’d packed because he loved it.
With the door firmly shut, I decided peeing came before toothpaste because my clit was no longer numb. I really had to go. I dashed for the toilet. I sighed as I went, closing my eyes with relief.
I remembered dinner with some of Dex’s hockey friends after the golf tournament. A football player, too. Drinking cranberry vodkas. Then… nothing. I didn’t do that, black out. Forgetting blocks of time. Not even in college. I should be thankful Dex loaded me up with water because remarkably, other than the headache that was growing, I wasn’t hungover. I had no memory, but I wasn’t going to throw up.
I reached for the toilet paper and froze. There on my left hand was a ring. Not just any ring but one with a big ass diamond in the center and a line of them that went all the way around the band. God, it was gorgeous.
I blinked, then moved my hand as if it might go away if I shook it enough.
“What the fuck?” I shouted.
“Like the ring, Mrs. James?” Dex called from the other room.
Mrs. James?
I finished up and flushed, then flung the door open.
“Mrs. James?” I practically yelled, waving my left hand around.
Dex smiled as he raised his left hand, and I couldn’t miss the simp
le platinum band that glinted in the Vegas sunlight. The suite had floor to ceiling windows, and it seemed we forgot to close the blinds before we went to sleep.
Among other things. Like getting married.
“Come back to bed, sugar. Since it seems we got married last night, let’s have our honeymoon.”
He pushed the sheet down, gripped the base of his insanely big, insanely perfect dick and gave it a hard pump. “This is all for you. Wife.”
Holy shit. Holy shit. I married Dex James.
And I don’t remember a thing.
Two weeks earlier
LINDY
His hand cupped the nape of her neck. He wrapped his fingers around the long length of her ponytail and gave a gentle tug.
“Knees, sugar.”
Celine’s lips parted. She wanted to obey, the need to do as told had her legs bending.
He guided her down until she was before him.
He was so tall her head tipped back to hold his blue-eyed gaze.
“Good girl. Now pull my dick out and show me how much you love to please me.”
Her fingers flew to open his jeans and he quickly sprang free. Thick, with a flared crown, she could only lick her lips at the need to taste as she wondered how she might take it all.
As if he could read her mind, he murmured, “It won’t fit. But you’ll try to get those lips around it, to take as much of it as you can. Because you know your pussy will have the same struggle.”
“How’s it coming?”
I startled at the voice that came through my laptop. I was on a video call with Lucy, an author friend in Arizona, although the little window showing her face was hidden behind the one with the book I was writing.
Glancing at the clock in the corner of the screen, I realized the last thirty minutes had flown by. I didn’t even notice the rev and noise of my neighbor’s chainsaw until now and God, it was loud. We were doing writing sprints, putting as many words down as we could in half hour increments and I really sank into that scene, even blocking out that awful noise. Using the mouse, I switched tabs so Lucy appeared in the small video chat window.
I never met her in person, but she was a close friend. Besides my editor, one of the only people who knew I wrote romance. On the side. The far, far side of my regular job. Meaning while the two books I’d published to date were starting to bring in a little money for me to buy a fancy coffee at Steaming Hotties. It was my nine-to-five weekday job at a small accounting firm that still paid the bills. I tackled other people’s taxes and general bookkeeping. Lots of numbers. Very dry, boring numbers.
Unlike my sister, Bridget, who was a human calculator, I found the profession boring as hell. It wasn’t my dream career, that was for sure. The saying, everyone could rely on death and taxes meant job security. I could agree. I was very familiar with both.
These days, I spent my nights and weekends working on my stories in secret because I was confident not everyone in Hunter Valley would be okay with me writing smut. It was romance, but people would call it that and I didn’t think I could live it down. This was a small town. I couldn’t leave the house without my hair done and my face made up because I always ran into someone I knew out and about. I wasn’t sure I could deal with my neighbors if they read the sex scenes in my books, especially ones where I imagined myself as the heroine.
God, like the one I was working on now.
Knees, sugar?
I scanned what I just finished typing. Yeah, that would go over well at yoga. And m
y chances in the dating pool, which was shallow enough already.
Still, I was determined to make my writing a new career. It had been my plan when I got out of college, but then my parents died not long after graduation and it got put to the side. I’d needed a job that was reliable, that paid the bills. Health insurance. All that grown up stuff I’d had to take on at twenty-three because raising a ten-year old sister became my priority.
Being a bookkeeper had been the first available opportunity at the time and I took it. All these years later, I was still there, but my role had advanced.
Unlike my life. Bridget was grown and had Maverick James in her life. A real man who was blatantly committed after a ridiculously short time. No, I wasn’t jealous she had a gorgeous, successful, wealthy, kind boyfriend. Literally the only eligible guy in town my age.
Yeah, my age.
Although not eligible any longer.
So no jealousy. Not at all. Because I just loved going on dates through the online singles sites and having every one of them be a dud. Which made me one, too.
Me. Lindy Beckett. Single. A dull accountant. A secret fledgling romance writer. Thirty-five with a biological clock that
wasn’t just ticking, the alarm was going off.
I rubbed my eyes and gave Lucy a smile. “Sorry.”
“Must’ve been a pretty good scene. Or are you thinking about the date you have tomorrow?”
“Date? Hell, no.” I was to have dinner with another guy I met through a dating app. He looked attractive in his profile photo and seemed nice in our messaging, but like every man before him, he probably didn’t check all the boxes on my man list. Meaning, he definitely wasn’t the reason I’d totally gotten into the latest chapter.
I didn’t write just romance. I wrote steamy romance. In fact, I squirmed in my desk chair because I was aroused from what I’d written. Lately, the words came easier. It wasn’t like I had a boyfriend that I could practice these sexy scenes with or planned to enact with Mr. Dinner tomorrow night. No, I pulled out my extensive collection of battery powered boyfriends to get off.
The difference now was that one specific man kept popping into my head. One dark haired, dark eyed, gorgeous man. I pulled my thoughts of him out late at night when I grabbed a toy from my bedside drawer. The past few times it had been the big vibrating dildo between my parted thighs. God forbid he–Dex James–heard me cry out his name as I came. I couldn’t remember coming harder, and that was from only thinking about him. Or when I was writing the sexy scenes for my latest book. Because I definitely pictured him telling me his cock was going to be too big for me to handle.
Big guy, big dick, right?
That was what I envisioned. Except what if I was wrong? What if he had a tiny one? A little miniature hotdog?
I shook my head and frowned at the ridiculousness of it.
Dex James was one of Maverick’s brothers. He–Dex, although probably Mav, too–definitely did not have a cocktail weenie between his muscular thighs.
The man exuded big dick energy.
He also had an easygoing, quick-to-smile, quick-for-fun kind of way about him. Which was completely the opposite of me. I’d been called uptight. Rigid. High maintenance. No doubt last weekend in Denver when I was super stressed, super annoyed and super behind on my book.
I’d taken it out on Dex. And Mallory, too, although she was used to me, as Bridget’s best friend, of being a little crazy after all these years.
“I was working on the second sex scene,” I told Lucy.
“I want to read it,” she said, her voice eager, eyes lighting up with anticipation. “God, what is that noise?”
“Chainsaw. The guy next door is trimming trees, I think.”
Mr. VanMeyer had been running that machine for the past hour.
“Jump to page thirty-two,” I told her. We wrote in a word processing program that was shareable online so she could toggle to my document and read what I wrote with ease. Like right now where she opened it and went to that page.
I grabbed the glass of iced tea from beside my laptop and took a big gulp while she read. It was a warm day, and I had all the windows open.
“Wow, Lind, that’s super-hot.” In the little display on my screen, she fanned herself.
“I know. It’s–”
“That guy, isn’t it?” she prodded with a sly smile. “The one you and your sister went to Denver with last week. Whatever his name is. You’ve made him be the hero of your book.”
“What are you saying, that he’s my muse?” I shook my head w
ith a little more vigor than the question deserved. If Lucy could pick up on it, I was worried. “Nope. Definitely not him. He’s not a cowboy like in my stories.”
I couldn’t imagine Dex James wearing a Stetson like the heroes I wrote. Sure, he’d look good in one. Or a potato sack, but a cowboy wasn’t his personality.
“So? I’m sure he’d love to put you on your knees.” Her dark eyebrows went up and down, then she grinned. “When’s the last time you had a guy do that? Boss you around.”
Never. Still, my panties were wet from the possibility. And the top unchecked box on the man list. There were many things on that list I’d started with my mother when I was fourteen and AJ Alvarez asked me to go bowling. Back then, it had honest on it. Friendly. Courteous. As I got older, I added more things, like loyal and good with kids. The one I was thinking about now was sexually attentive. Guys in the past who I’d let into my bed hadn’t been selfish, but they hadn’t been attentive either. Or bossy.
An alarm came through the video call. “Shit, I have to go,” she said with a sigh as she swiped at her cell. “Ariel will be off the bus in ten minutes. Bye!”
The video call ended. ...
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