Bad Boy’s Bridesmaid(69)

At least she was honest.

It broke my mind. I surrendered to that bestial urge, too fucking humbled and grateful that this woman let me fuck her. I’d do anything she wanted, anything, and it wouldn’t be enough until I heard her tell me she’d be mine.

And I wouldn’t believe her until she proved it.

Until she grew with my child.

Nothing would stop that from happening now.

The tingling began in my cock, creeping through my spine. I grunted, pounding into her, using her ravaged body as a little toy to pump a surge of heat inside her. Another load of my seed rushed deep within her womb, and I jammed my cock in as far as her body yielded. Our skin touched, bare flesh to bare flesh, and my balls slapped hard against her slit.

Every wave of my orgasm drained me.

I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. I clung to her as the only way to tether me to the world. Leah accepted all of me as she shuddered in weak and exhausted pleasure again. We both collapsed.

Finally done.

Shattered.

Aching.

Enthralled.

I didn’t pull out from her. I’d never withdraw my cock from her again if I didn’t have to. We rolled onto our sides, and my cock kept her stuffed full of everything I offered.

She stilled in my arms, but her breathing shuddered as the aftershocks of our fucking stole her voice. She closed her eyes, her hands gripping my solid arm pinning her to me.

This wasn’t like anything I ever experienced.

I never felt this close to anyone. Never had such pleasure. I let her rest against my strength. She had every permission to sleep and enjoy the pure bliss that crashed over us after the sex.

Fucking.

Love-making?

Whatever just happened wasn’t normal.

Or maybe it was? Maybe this was how couples actually experienced passion and sex?

I wouldn’t know. I never had anything but the mindless fun. Straight physical reactions from lips around my cock or a pussy separated from me by rubber. Hell, I never talked to the girls I fucked. I never even learned their names.

But I knew this woman. I knew Leah. And that made sex…better.

I fucked her naturally, without protection. Christ. The protection I needed wasn’t a condom. No one warned me about the insanity that was slipping inside a woman who stirred everything inside me. She got in my head, fucked everything up, and left me a mess to sort out.

Sex used to clear my mind so I could focus on winning, succeeding, championships.

Now I wanted more. This. Closeness. The understanding between the two of us. We fucked like animals in heat, and we used each other to get exactly what we had wanted, and we joined to create something amazing…

But it wasn’t just sex. I liked it.

I pulled the covers over her trembling form, held her tighter against me, and I watched Leah drift into a peaceful sleep.

Something changed inside me. Something big. Something important.

And it was as fucking exhilarating as it was terrifying.





Chapter Eleven – Leah



I woke stiff and exhausted and…sticky.

Very sticky.

Everywhere. My thighs. My slit. The sheets.

Jack wasn’t in the bed—thank God. I slipped from the blankets, stood on wobbly legs, and surveyed the mess. At least I could assess the damage without him watching and flashing that knowing smile.

Not like I hadn’t earned it last night. That gorgeous, cocky smirk overwhelmed me when I was under him, conquered me when I rode him, and dominated me even as I crushed my body against his to harden his cock once more. I’d wanted him to take me again and again.

I got my way.

Three times. Maybe four?

I couldn’t even remember. The night was a blur of pleasure, energy, and undeniable, unquenchable need. I had never, ever experienced anything so erotic or insane or unbelievably sexy.

Now the sun rose. I was supposed to return to my normal state of respectability and repression.

But how could I handle the man who turned me from responsible, controlled Leah into a crazed sex kitten? I remembered my demands. Bare cocks. Coming inside. Orgasms.

Babies.

Oh, God. I was a mess. My core still heated. It was sticky too.

I had unprotected sex. A lot of it.

But I didn’t have any regrets. That was the strange part, especially since I was usually suffering in shame after my nights with Wyatt. Even after dating for so long, we only ever had sex under the covers, carefully and slowly and always with a condom. The last thing either of us wanted was a mistake that would ruin our judiciously crafted lives.

Well, that life-plan ruined before it began. Now I’d have a baby at twenty-four with the star, playboy quarterback of the Ironfield Rivets. It was as good a plan as any, especially since it meant sex with a man who dominated my body with the same ease he ruled the football field.

I checked my phone. Eight o’clock. At least it was a Saturday or I’d have one hell of a time explaining my tardiness to Jolene. No, sorry, I was getting my brains fucked out by Jack Carson last night. Nope, we weren’t careful at all! I took so much of his seed inside me, I’m still dripping this morning…

Christ, that thought shouldn’t have gotten me hot. But it did. Horribly. Shamefully.

I let my fingers glide over the slickness between my legs—some of it mine, most of it Jack’s. My clit throbbed under my touch, and every little bump nearly drove the air from my lungs.

I was still sensitive. Still wanting.

This was trouble waiting to happen, and I’d have to leave the safety of the bedroom to confront the trouble-maker himself.

I rinsed off in his expensive, beautiful shower with more soaps and oils, dials and temperature settings than a man like Jack Carson ever needed. The spa tub looked comfortable though. A good soaking tub was a quarterback’s best friend on Monday mornings. Also, a bottle of aspirin. And, of course, I remembered Jack telling me he often added a blow-job to his recommended prescriptions.

It shouldn’t have tingled me to think that maybe I’d be the one giving him that small comfort after a hard game.

I had nothing to wear, so I stole one of his shirts, the first thing my fingers brushed from the drawer. Of course it was a jersey. Wearing it would only boost his ego, but after last night? Maybe he deserved that swagger.

The jersey was long enough to cover my behind. The black and crimson stripes looked better on him, but at least it’d shield most of my nudity from the man.

Not like I wasn’t seared into his memory by now.

He’d be forever in my mind.

I tip-toed into the kitchen. He flipped pancakes and crisped bacon, bare-chested. It was as good an image as last night’s tensing muscles and dark tattoos cradling my body. I slipped onto a stool at the kitchen island, marveling at the brand new stove top, counters, and appliances that lined a professional grade kitchen.

Jack was planning to say something smart. He glanced once over the jersey and his grin turned wicked.

“Holy fuck, Kiss, you have no idea how bad I wanna fuck you while you wear that.”

I tugged at the material, feigning disinterest with the name of his league rival. “I was looking for a Tim Morgan jersey, but I figured yours would do.”

Teasing him didn’t have the intended consequence. His cock hardened, tenting his boxers. The spatula cast onto the counter, and he leapt at me, forcing me into a kiss.

Everything inside of me melted, but I wasn’t ready to lose myself into that reckless, consuming passion again.

We probably needed to talk.

I thought so.

Maybe?

What was left to talk about? We agreed to make a baby. We had sex. Now the bacon was burning.

I slipped from his arms to take his post in front of the stove, my bare feet chilled on the cold tile. It was the only part of me cold. Everywhere else burned like I struck myself with the grease.

I flipped the pancakes as Jack’s hands wove over my hips. The heat turned to an inferno, and I whimpered as his lips brushed against my neck. He had bitten there last night. Now his mouth grazed over the sensitive little bruises and nips. Apologizing. Re-energizing. Seducing me all over again.

I had no idea what to say to him, or how to even begin when my words dissolved into a sensual purr. I whispered his name. His grip tightened on me.

“Did you have fun last night?” His whisper ached my core.

His thick arms circled me, holding me, pinning me against the solid strength of his flexing, bare chest. It was almost too much. My mouth dried. I nodded instead.

“Do you regret it?”

I licked my lips, wishing he’d kiss me instead of making me talk.

“Absolutely not,” I said.

I heard Jack’s grin through his words, muffled in the sensitive hollow of my throat. “Did I hurt you?”

“Hurt me?”

“I took you harder than I planned.” He switched off the stove and lifted me up, setting me on the counter if only so he could move between my legs again. His blue-eyes flashed, mischievous, the gaze of a rogue looking to steal what he had already taken. “You turned me into an animal, Kiss. Couldn’t contain myself.”

“I survived.”

“Wish I had. Can’t stop thinking about you. If you knew how hard I was…”

I knew very well how hard he was. I felt it pressing against me. I arched an eyebrow.

“You still want more?” I asked. “Even after all of last night?”

“Fuck yeah, I do.” Jack’s fingers grazed my bare leg, tickling up to the hem of the jersey. “Tell me that wasn’t the best sex of your life.”

“Aren’t you a little smug?”