by Kim Karr
Her legs wrap around me.
I fuck her hard.
Wild.
Rough.
Like an animal.
And she loves it.
My balls start to tighten against my shaft and fuck, I’m not ready for this to end.
Changing position, I keep pounding inside her, holding myself back with every ounce of restraint I have as I do.
The moment her body tightens, I smile. She’s there too. I’m balls-deep inside her, and I start to thrust harder. As soon as I feel my balls draw up and the rush begins to hurdle over me, I start to stroke her clit, wanting her to come with me.
At the same time.
Wanting us both to fly over that edge together.
“More,” she groans deep in her throat.
Fuck.
Pulling out, I flip her over. I’ll give her more.
“Put your ass in the air,” I tell her.
Sweet. So fucking sweet. She does.
As soon as I drive into her from behind, her pussy walls tighten around every hard inch of my cock. I pump into her over and over, unable to contain my own sounds of passion.
Like this, I cup her ass. Use my mouth to bite her neck. Pinch her nipple. Grab her by the hair and pull her to me.
The vanilla scent of her is in my nose. So good. Her ass grinds into me. So good. Her pussy walls grip me. So fucking good.
With my hand on her pussy, stroking, plunging inside, I start to come. It isn’t long before I’m freebasing off the ledge. Flying through the air. Orgasming like I never have.
Groaning as my release takes over, I press her body down on the bed and bury my cock all the way inside her.
When I start jetting off, there’s so much, I can’t stop my dick from jerking, the ground from falling, or my breath from panting.
Gigi doesn’t seem to care. Then again, she’s doing her own free fall. All the while my hand is still on her pussy, pinching her clit, making her writhe.
And then she’s coming. Coming so hard. Like I did. Feeling my feet back on the ground, I watch her. Watch as she trembles beneath me and makes the sexiest noises.
Five seconds pass.
She buries her face into the pillow.
Ten seconds pass.
She hasn’t moved.
Finally, I have to ask, “Hey, you good down there?”
“Good. Oh, my God,” she groans as she peeks up from the pillow. “You’ve ruined me for any other man.”
Slowly pulling out, I stare into those caramel eyes. The thought of her with anyone else makes me mental, but at the same time, I know she can never be mine. “I told you so.”
Her smirk melts me, and I have an urge to take her again, right now. I curtail it and head to the bathroom instead.
Once I’ve disposed of the condom, I splash water on my face and remind myself she’s a distraction. Something to keep me occupied while I do my time in the city before heading home to Casanovia.
When I meet my reflection in the mirror, I can see the lie on my face and have to admit that she feels more real than not.
She’s sunshine in a bottle.
The sweetest thing I ever fucked.
Sugar pink lips and caramel brown eyes with a body that would knock any man on his ass, me included.
She’s sunshine in a bottle and I have a feeling I’m about to get wasted.
Resolved that the truth doesn’t mean shit, I head back to the bedroom. Gigi is still in the same position I left her in.
Gorgeous.
Perfect.
And mine. Yeah, fuck all that shit I said. Looking at her now, I know I’ll do what I have to do to have her.
I just hope I keep my head in the process, and I mean both of them.
Laughing, I flop on the bed beside her and smack her ass. “Ready to eat?”
She’s breathing hard when she crawls over to me and snuggles on my chest. “What’s so funny?”
I shake it off. “Nothing. You. Who the fuck knows? Come on. You need to get some nourishment before round two.”
“I’m not sure I can move. What did you bring to eat?”
Glancing over at her, I push some stray hair from her face. “Spaghetti, Sushi, and Chinese.”
Threading her foot through my leg so that mine is looped over hers, possessive-like, she snuggles closer. “Is that your version of a five-course meal?”
I let my fingers wander. “No.”
“Okay, then you must know those foods don’t exactly go together, right?”
My fingertips wander to her stomach, and I draw circles around her belly button. “No, really?”
Peeking up at me, she’s about to say something when I start tickling her. “Of course I know that. I wasn’t certain what you liked, so I figured better safe than sorry.”
“Stop,” she giggles, as I mount my strike, taking the tickling up a notch. She’s fast though and almost escapes my hold.
Almost.
Having none of that, I pin her wrists above her head and stare down at her, tears of laughter twinkling in her eyes. “I’ve changed my mind. I don’t think you’re hungry enough yet. We’ll eat after round two.”
She licks her lips. “Whatever you say, Mr. Montgomery.”
Jesus fucking Christ. She’s a dream. That girl you create in your head who is made for you but doesn’t exist. Well, mine just came to life. Still, just to be certain, I raise a brow. “Whatever I say?”
Her nod is anything but subtle. “We only have tonight. Might as well make the most of it.”
A growl rumbles from my throat. “Fuck buddies, remember?”
“Company policy prohibits fraternization, remember?”
Lowering myself to my elbows, I lick around her lips. “I’ll change the policy then,” I tell her and take her mouth.
Of course, I can’t. Not for the entire company. However, for her, I’m willing to do almost anything if it means being inside her.
Anything I can, anyway.
DID SOMEONE SAY FIRE?
Turn the Lights Down Low plays on the radio.
Yeah, now I’m feeling you breathing slow.
Because, baby, we’re just reckless kids.
Trying to find an island in the flood.
I’m shaking my head, trying to make sense of the lyrics as Max raps them when he reaches across the blanket I threw on the floor for our picnic.
“Do you collect these?” he asks, pointing to the very old Coney Island snow globe from the shelves of items I have unpacked but not placed anywhere.
“No,” I tell him around a mouthful of sushi.
“You look adorable with rice falling out of your mouth.” The word adorable is drawn out with his slight accent, and he chuckles as he dabs up the fallen pieces sticking on my face with his thumb, then licks them off.
So hot.
My breathing is out of control, and I’m trying to steady it when he picks up the globe and peers inside to stare at the Wonder Wheel. “Then do you like amusement parks?”
I point my chopsticks, the ends now stained with soy sauce, at him. “Of course I do. Who doesn’t?”
“Have you ever been to Coney Island?” he asks, shaking the globe and watching the snow fall.
“No,” I laugh. “The train ride seems way too long. I don’t even know if that Ferris Wheel still exists. The globe belonged to my mother. She went there when she immigrated here through Ellis Island. She loved it there, and she left the globe for me.”
The magic begins to fade, and the white particles settle to the bottom. “I’m really sorry.”
I shrug and dip a piece of spicy tuna into the wasabi-soy mixture on my plate. “Don’t be. She didn’t die. She left when I was young. I don’t even really remember her.”
Max sets the snow globe down. “Well, I’m sorry for that then.”
“I remember she made clothes for me. How happy she was when she sewed. She used to dress us alike in the prettiest things, by father told me. I think I love fashion because of her.”
“I
can understand wanting to be like your parents.”
Another shrug with a slight laugh this time. “My mother was a mail-order bride from Russia. My dad picked her out of a catalog. They never loved each other, but they each got what they wanted—she got entrance into the U.S., and he got a family. So, I guess it all worked out the way it was supposed to.”
“Hmmm…” he says, pondering this.
I lick my chopstick. “I think that’s why I’m such a hopeless romantic.”
He laughs out loud. “Because of your parents’ happy ending?”
His sarcasm has me fixing him with a stare—raised brow, curled lip, and all. “No, smartass. It’s because of their lack of one. It left me wanting to believe marriage can actually be based on love.”
“That’s the thing,” he says, not an ounce of mirth in his tone, “it isn’t always.”
Sadness creeps over me, and I know there’s some story behind his words, something that happened to him.
Patting the spot beside him for me to move closer, he says, “But people believe in crazier things, I suppose.”
Setting my plate down, I push his leftover plate of Chinese chicken off the blanket and onto the floor. Then, crawling beside him, I stare up into his eyes, both icy and liquid heat—fire and ice. “Are you calling me crazy?”
“I guess I am. But I like your kind of crazy,” he whispers in my ear before he kisses my neck in the tender spot he’s discovered.
Lulling my head back, I manage a, “I know you do.”
His lips skim my throat, and there’s no way he can’t feel the way my pulse races beneath his touch.
“What about you?” I ask. “What do you believe in?”
“Hard work,” he murmurs, licking at the spot he’s giving his attention.
I know he hears the sharp intake of my breath when his teeth nip me there. “Well, yes, that’s a given, but what else?”
“Indulgences.”
“What kind of indulgences?” I’m certain he feels the tug of my fingers in his hair when I sink them in deep because he practically growls.
Max’s hands slide up my bare thighs. I’m in his t-shirt, and he’s shirtless in his jeans. “Dessert for one, and I’m ready for it.”
My head jerks toward the other bag of food we haven’t even gotten to yet, and I lick my lips, more than ready for that sweetness I promised myself earlier. “What did you bring? Chocolate cake?” I ask wistfully.
A wicked grin forms on his lips. “No. I’m not talking about food.”
I gulp. “Then what do you want? Coffee? Tea?”
His stare is bluer than ever when he rasps, “Your sweet pussy.”
Oh.
That might just be better than chocolate cake.
With my heart racing, I lean against the shelf behind me, spreading my legs and gasping for air to breathe as I open myself to him.
His eyes glimmer with both delight and determination. All of a sudden, he’s a predator, and I’m the hunted and his hands are on my thighs and he’s tugging me toward him to lay me flat on the floor.
With my arms pinned over my head, I’m dizzy with anticipation.
“I’m going to make you forget your own name,” he says, a gruff whisper in my ear.
My belly twists tightly in surprise, and small butterflies flock from its very bottom and fly all the way to the tips of my toes. With his free hand, he runs his warm fingers down my body to the curve around my hip. “I think I already have.”
Smirking, he kisses my lips, gentler than he has before. Slower. Paying more attention to every crevice of my mouth.
Pound.
Pound.
Pound.
“Gigi, are you awake?”
Oh, my God. I jerk up. “You have to get out of here.”
Obviously seeing my distress, he frees his hold on me. “Why?”
I shove his shoes into his hand. “It’s my brother and my niece.”
Pound.
Pound.
Pound.
“Gigi, wake up, Tatiana wants to say goodnight.”
There’s a frown on Max’s face. “I don’t understand?”
Pushing him toward the bedroom, I tell him, “My brother is very protective of me, and I really don’t want to have to explain how you and I went from strangers to fuck buddies in less than twenty-four hours.”
“Tell him I’m your boss.”
Hoisting the window open, I motion to the fire escape. “Trust me when I tell you it’s better if you leave.”
He points to where I’m pointing. “You want me to sneak out of your bedroom window like a teenager?”
I nod.
“You really are crazy.”
Quickly, I plant a kiss on his cheek. “And you said you like my kind of crazy.”
His laughter is loud, and I shush him as I shove his hard body out. “I want to see you tomorrow.”
Hesitant, I say nothing.
“I’m not leaving until you say yes.”
“That’s blackmail.”
Pound.
Pound.
Pound.
“Hang on. I’m coming,” I shout.
“Say yes,” Max smirks.
“Fine, yes. I’ll go on a date with you,” I tell him.
“It’s not a date. It’s an adventure and be ready at nine.”
Whatever. It’s not like I have time to argue. “Where are we going so early?” I ask.
“You’ll see. And wear jeans.”
“Fine. Got it,” I tell him in a rush, and then I’m slamming the window and locking it.
Racing back out to the living room, I quickly stack the dishes and shove them aside. On my way to the door, I glance down. Oh, no. I didn’t. Yes, I did. I sent my boss packing without a shirt.
Pound.
Pound.
Pound.
“Gigi?”
Flustered, I pull open the door, suddenly very aware that I’m not wearing any panties. “Dima, Tatiana, hi,” I greet, moving aside to allow my family access.
“Good, you’re still awake,” my brother says, holding up a box. “Since you couldn’t go out to dinner with us, we brought dessert to you. How about some chocolate cake?”
I start laughing out of control.
Dessert.
Yes.
Too bad it isn’t cake I want anymore.
OOPS…HE DID IT AGAIN
The Casanovia Conquest
Breaking News
WHEN THE ROYAL BAD BOY RETURNED
By Ian Wesley
Prince Maximus had gone radio silent for a good two weeks but we all knew it couldn’t last.
Around nine o’clock last evening, our royal bad boy prince decided that getting into a scuffle with a hoard of photographers who were taking his picture as he was scaling a fire escape in an area in New York City known as Tribeca, sans a shirt, was a good idea.
Yes, you heard me right.
No one ended up critically injured; however, Prince Maximus was hit in the face. By a camera, not a fist. This happened when photographers crowded around him as he was getting into a car. While pushing the camera away, it’s been reported that a photographer’s lip was cut.
I smell a lawsuit.
So much for staying out of trouble.
And it wasn’t even our prince’s fault.
Poor Maximus.
But I want to know—where was his shirt?
What about you?
Tweet me.
TWEETS
Latisha Hollis @LatishaHollis
@IanWesly I’m wearing it.
♥2.9K
679 people are talking about this
TraceyAkins @TraAkin
@PrinceMax is sexy and he knows it.
♥20.7K
14,678 people are talking about this
RalphHopkins @Ralph12
@IanWesley leave the dude alone.
♥200.6K
154,688 people are talking about this
JodieFraleigh @HotJodie
&nbs
p; @IanWesley he’s too sexy for his shirt
♥500.6K
354.700 people are talking about this
A RIDE ON THE WILD SIDE
I’m not sure what the hell I’m doing.
The wind whips through my hair, cool and hard while the warm sun shines down from overhead.
Gigi holds onto me from behind, that perfect little body of hers wrapped around mine as if she was made for me.
Squeeze. Tap. Release. Twist.
Left hand. Right foot.
Don’t get the wrong idea, I know how to ride a motorcycle. It’s her I’m referring to about not knowing what the hell I’m doing.
Gigi Gatsby.
Gianna.
The girl fate tossed in my path on my road to redemption who now has my head spinning in all kinds of directions it shouldn’t be. It’s just everything seems brighter when she’s with me.
Sunshine in a bottle.
It’s like my world was dim, and I didn’t even know it until this 1,000 kilowatt light bulb glared at me with her big brown eyes.
I twist the throttle of the brand-new 136-horsepower BMW R1250 I ordered weeks ago but hadn’t taken out on the road yet because I had nowhere I really wanted to go. The bike leaps forward like a stallion being broken in for the first time.
Faster.
I want faster.
Squeeze. Tap. Release. Twist.
Left hand. Right foot.
Gripping the throttle, I yank it back and toe it down to fourth gear. Now, we’re really flying. Parting traffic on the freeway like Moses did the Red Sea.
Her death grip strengthens around my stomach as I gain speed. When I practically fly through the Hugh Carey Tunnel to cross the Hudson River, she holds on even tighter. I don’t slow because her breathing tells me she’s not scared, she’s exhilarated.
A little vixen dare-devil.
My knees are pressing against the sleek, dark green gas tank, and Gigi snuggles close, her chin on my shoulder as if it’s the most natural thing.
This is some kind of fucking heaven, I think, as I keep on the path that I know is sure to lead me to even more trouble.