Authors: Shelley Munro
Tags: #contemporary romance, #New Zealand, #anthology
Ain't Misbehaving (7 page)
“Not for long.” Justin walked through to the lounge and followed her down onto the leather couch. He cupped her face in his hands, rubbing his lips against hers and taking sensual nibbles. At her urging, he took the kiss deeper, sliding his tongue into the softness of her mouth and savoring the taste of her. She trembled beneath him, her breasts flattened against his chest.
Mine
, he thought, letting himself believe. His cock throbbed, pressing insistently against his fly.
“Hurry. Get naked,” she urged.
Pleased but determined to make this loving last, he nuzzled her neck beneath the curtain of blonde curls. He gently rubbed his cheek against hers and licked across the shell of her ear. She trembled, pressing against him with urgency and silent demand.
“Justin.”
He chuckled. Maybe not so silent. Standing, he toed off his boots and ripped his shirt over his head. Then without taking his eyes off her, he unfastened the button on his jeans and unzipped the fly. Hunger throbbed between them razor-sharp. Hands not quite steady, peeled away his jeans, underwear and socks, discarding them on the floor by a wooden coffee table. His dick jumped under her slow perusal, his heart racing in an urgent tempo.
Pearl wriggled out of her panties and with a saucy grin, parted her legs, flashing her glistening pussy at him.
“You’re beautiful.” He couldn’t quite believe she’d agreed to marry him. Jesus, he wanted to brand her, to shaft her deep and feel the clench of her sweet cunt around his dick. A ring. They’d go and buy a ring later this afternoon. Make it official.
She waved her fingers. “Stop looking and come and get me.”
“My pleasure, babe.” Justin grabbed her, making her cry out. “I’m going to thrust inside you and bring you so much pleasure you’ll scream.”
“Oh.” The air whooshed from her lungs in an audible rush. He grinned and sat on the couch, maneuvering her squirming body until she faced him, straddling his legs. God, knowing he turned her on was a rush in itself.
Another harsh inhale and her breasts brushed his chest, the tight nipples dragging across his chest hair. She smelled of his soap, which pleased him greatly.
“I love you.” It was great being able to say it out loud. He leaned forward to kiss her tenderly, starting when her hands squeezed between their bodies to curl around his engorged shaft. It felt damn good. So good, he rocked his pelvis forward, groaning at her touch. “More.”
“Are you sure you can handle more?” With the stroke of her thumb, she massaged the bead of pre-cum on his cock head away. A groan escaped, the ache in his balls telling him this would be over in a few minutes if he didn’t get her to slow down. God, he loved this teasing mood of hers, especially when she directed the fun and laughter at him.
“I can handle anything you throw at me.” That said, he grasped her waist and lifted her. She gasped but guided his cock to her entrance. He let her sink down inch by slow inch, feeling the parting of her flesh, the slick warmth of her. When he was finally balls deep, she tightened her inner muscles, grasping his cock and squeezing it within her silken walls.
“Can you handle that, Justin?” Smirking, she gripped his shoulders and lifted up until just the tip of him rested inside before sliding back down. Setting up a slow rhythm, she rode him.
“Yeah,” he said, almost grunting while he struggled to rein back the bubble of semen in his balls. They kissed and groped each other, the loving playful yet the hottest thing he’d ever experienced in his life. He pinched her nipple while she scraped her fingernails over his rock-hard balls.
The liquid sound of sex filled the room while the scent of arousal and the citrus tang of his soap filled his every breath.
“Heck,” she muttered. Her head dropped back, beautiful eyes slumberous and her skin, flushed. Sexy. The pulse at her throat beat a swift tattoo, tempting him to lean forward and cover it with the gentle suction of his mouth.
“Gonna give in first?” His balls ached in delectable agony as he shafted her deep.
She groaned and the sexy sound brought a prickle to his balls. Soft needy whimpers came from her throat and suddenly he felt the first spasms of her cunt squeezing his cock. She lifted again, sinking back onto his cock in a slow, erotic assault that let him feel every part of her inner walls. She convulsed, gripping the sensitive head of his cock, crying out her pleasure.
“Fuck,” he muttered, and that was it. He lifted her body, driving into her again and again until he exploded with a hot gush of semen. When he opened his eyes—damn if he remembered closing them—the first thing he saw was her captivating smile.
“I won,” she said in a sexy purr.
“I won too,” Justin said, his smile distinctly predatory. He lifted her without warning, scooping her off his cock and into his arms. Standing, he prowled down the passage to her bedroom, savoring the armful of woman. His woman. Oh yeah. There was no doubt in his mind. He was the biggest winner because he’d won Pearl.
Pearl was his woman and he was her man.
Lovers at last.
The End
Lovers at Last
Copyright © 2014 Shelley Munro
ISBN: 978-0-473-30837-7
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any manner whatsoever without the prior written permission from the author except in the case of brief quotation embodied in critical articles and reviews.
ONE NIGHT OF MISBEHAVIOR
Shelley Munro
One Night of Misbehavior Blurb
He wears his scars on the outside. She keeps hers safe inside.
Charlotte Dixon ignores her stepmother’s edict and, in an act of disobedience, attends one of the social events of the year—a masked costume ball. Charlotte’s naughtiness escalates when she dances and smooches with a sexy masked man. The night of anonymous passion that follows makes her yearn for a different life, but the next day she’s back to her dull routine of household management.
Advertising tycoon, Ash Marlborough is about to set a private investigator on the trail of his mystery princess when she waltzes right into his place of work. Charlotte is shocked to meet her masked man in the flesh, and even more perturbed when he asks her out on a date. Despite craving another night of sexy loving, she doesn’t have time for a man, not when she wants to reinvent herself and grasp a new, improved life with both hands. But Ash knows what he wants, and he’s determined to win the heart of his princess. Let the dance of seduction commence.
Warning: Contains a conniving stepmother, selfish stepsisters, a grandmother with fairy godmother tendencies and a sexy masked man who is willing to face them all for the love of a good woman.
“Charlotte Joanna Dixon!” A shrill voice—her stepmother’s—hacked through Charlotte’s Saturday morning lie-in and intensified the
boom, boom, boom
of her aching head. “Of all the mornings for you to sleep late,” Elizabeth screeched. “Didn’t you set your alarm clock? I have to meet the fundraising committee in an hour.” The sharp accusations kept coming, accompanied by a
thunk
on her bedroom door.
Charlotte stared up at the damp spot on her bedroom ceiling and started silently counting to ten.
One. Two. Three.
Snippets of music, memories of a sexy masculine form crept into her mind, and her count faltered. Last night she’d experienced the dizzy taste of freedom and now the thought of her normal routine rubbed like a raw blister. Her mouth settled into a mutinous line. Maybe she’d stay here all day.
“Charlotte!” Doors slammed. The water pipes in the old Victorian groaned as they gave up water for the shower. “Hurry up.”
Or not.
Sighing, Charlotte scrambled into jeans and a T-shirt and trudged down the sweeping stairs to the kitchen. On automatic pilot, she started the coffeemaker then filled the jug to boil for Gran’s tea. While she waited, she trotted outside to grab the early morning post from the mailbox.
Soon the scent of fresh coffee flooded the kitchen, making her stomach lurch in protest.
Maybe the last glass of Champagne hadn’t been the best idea.
Gritting her teeth, she set the breakfast table, then swallowed down two headache tablets and assembled a tea tray for her grandmother. When she carried the tray and three letters upstairs, she found her grandmother was already awake, perusing one of the new craft magazines she’d had Charlotte purchase for her the previous day.
“Morning, Gran. How are you feeling? You have mail from your friends.”
“Charlotte.” Gran put down the magazine and peered over her glasses. Her blonde curls were already brushed into submission and a pale pink lipstick gave her face a touch of color. She cocked her head in Charlotte’s direction like an inquisitive bird. “You were late home. Tell me about the ball.”
“Shush, someone will hear.” Heat suffused Charlotte’s cheeks as memories of the previous evening rose to thump her over the head—seductive music, dancing, glasses of tickly Champagne.
Many
glasses of crisp, fruity Champagne. And Zorro.
Her entire evening summed up in a few words. She’d let a tall, masked man seduce her with his charisma and endless glasses of Champagne. The night of freedom had gone to her head along with the alcoholic buzz, and for one night, the mysterious and very sexy Zorro had shoved her loneliness aside. Unsteady hands poured tea for her grandmother. After adding a touch of milk, she handed over the cup and saucer.
“I danced so much my feet are sore,” she said, opting for a partial truth. She did have a blister on her little toe.
“Good. Did you see Elizabeth at the ball? What about Jenny and Rachel?”
Charlotte plopped on the end of Gran’s bed and nodded cautiously. The pain was muted now, the tablets working their magic. “They seemed to enjoy the ball. Everyone danced all night. The band was excellent.”
Gran’s faded blue eyes twinkled behind the lenses of her glasses. “Did they recognize you?”
“They didn’t glance at me twice.”
“I told you so.” Her grandmother’s gaze zeroed in on her neck.
Charlotte recalled the addictive kisses Zorro had trailed down her throat, the sensual bite and suck, and groaned inwardly. Kisses plus suction equaled one thing.
Hickeys.
“Did you meet someone special?”
“No,” Charlotte said quickly. Too quickly.
“I see.”
Charlotte was glad someone saw because she didn’t understand her actions of the previous night. Yes, she’d had too much Champagne, but she’d known what she was doing. No one had forced her to kiss Zorro or to run her hands down his naked chest. Heck, no one had forced her to scream with the pleasure of her orgasm either. It was as if an alien had taken possession of her—one who enjoyed the heck out of sex.
“I think I’ll go down to breakfast this morning,” Gran said unexpectedly. “I want to hear about the ball.”
“I’ll help you dress.”
“There’s a tube of concealer in my dressing table drawer,” Gran said. “Perhaps you should apply some to your neck while I’m taking a shower. You don’t want Elizabeth asking embarrassing questions.”
No, she did not. Half an hour later, Charlotte had breakfast ready and Gran was seated at the table, eating a bowl of porridge.
Elizabeth stalked into the kitchen and sat beside her mother. “Coffee.”
“Elizabeth,” Gran said in a sharp tone. “Charlotte isn’t your maid.”
Elizabeth yawned and smoothed a hand over her neat blonde bob. “I provide her with a roof over her head and a small wage. The least she can do is make me breakfast on a Saturday morning.”
Charlotte frowned in Gran’s direction. Mother and daughter couldn’t be more different in temperament and often butted heads. She wasn’t about to get into the middle of one of their arguments. She rose from the table and her dry toast, grabbed a mug and poured coffee for Elizabeth. On hearing the
clomp-clomp
of footsteps on the stairs, she pulled two more mugs from the cupboard. She handed one to Jenny and the second to Rachel as they sailed past to join their grandmother and mother at the table. All four women were petite and blonde with blue eyes. Jenny and Rachel wore jeans and silky tops to highlight their curves while Elizabeth stuck with classic—black trousers and a feminine blouse in baby pink.
“What’s for breakfast?” Jenny asked. “I’ve got the munchies.”
“There’s fruit and cereal or I can make some more porridge,” Charlotte said, praying none of them noticed the love bites. The concealer hadn’t exactly lived up to its name.
“I’ll have toast,” Rachel said. “Whole wheat.”
“I’ll have fruit and cereal,” Jenny said.
Without a word, Charlotte started preparing the requested breakfasts.
“Did you enjoy the ball?” Gran chirped.
Charlotte frowned in Gran’s direction, noting the satisfied glitter in her eyes. A secret smile played on Gran’s lips as she studied her granddaughters and daughter. Then she shot a mischievous glance at Charlotte, her granddaughter by marriage.