Hard(4)

“You don’t seem the legal type,” I said.

“Nah, not really.”

“So what is your type?”

Zach’s grin confirmed it for me. Apparently, he liked them young, quiet, and mocha. Not what I was asking. “What I mean is…you don’t seem like an attorney.”

“You don’t think so?”

“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 cocksure college kid. Much, much more.

Damn 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 glasses clinked, celebrating our impending regrets.

Somehow, I knew I’d learn one hell of a lesson from this mistake.

A very hard lesson.





Jesus fuck.

Her blouse unbuttoned.

Jesus fuck.

She kicked off a shoe.

Jesus fuck.

Her stockings were thigh-highs. The thin lace caressed her caramel legs, dark and luxurious and stretching to her goddamned chin.

The door crashed behind me. Behind us. Hell if I knew or cared.

Fuck 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 fucking 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-fucking-lutely perfect to suck my cock—devoured me. She kissed like she hadn’t been kissed in years.

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

And what asshole would proposition her to his apartment knowing who she was, what she was dealing with?

This asshole.

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 fuck 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 pussy I had ever seen. Button my pants. Shake her hand and walk to her car.

Or.

I could do what came naturally.

Fucking 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 pussy 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 goddamned volcano all molten and ready to blow. A goddess slickening to be taken. A demand waiting to be filled.

This woman deserved candlelight and champagne and some sort of twinkly-ass 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 goddamned hard?

“Zach, oh God.”

And now her arms were up. She stretched out completely on the bed, spread her legs, and fucking surrendered to my lapping tongue. Her breasts puffed—perfectly round and delicious and desperate to be sucked. She wasn’t a super thin woman, but that got me harder. Curves. Hips. Tits. And god, that ass.

The things I could do to that ass.

Blood pounded in my ears. I was damn surprised any of it got away from my cock. 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 pussy I ever had the pleasure to claim for my own.