When she was calm, he started to take off her clothes.
He was slow, slow, slow, but achingly steady, as if a natural disaster wouldn’t stop him. He stripped off her T-shirt and ran his hands up the curve of her spine, the breadth of her shoulder blades. He pushed down her jeans and underwear, stroking the tender crease where her arse curved into the back of her thigh. When she whimpered, he kissed her throat, hot and wet with an electric flick of tongue.
It broke something in her. She rose up on her knees and snatched at his clothes, and she wasn’t slow or steady at all. But he didn’t seem to mind.
He did, however, take over again when they were both naked. “Let me taste you,” he murmured, his voice rough, his hands insistent. “Let me.”
As if she would argue.
Her pulse leapt as she lay back. He ran a possessive palm over her thigh, spreading her wide for him. His eyes were heavy-lidded, his breath warm against her sex. “Such a pretty cunt.”
She rolled her hips, anticipation thrumming through her clit. “Do something.”
He pressed a chaste kiss to her hip bone.
“Oh my God, Zach, I swear I’ll strangle you.”
His laughter was low and rich. She felt each puff of air, right before she felt his tongue.
Good Lord, that was good, so good she almost sobbed. His tongue laved her swollen flesh, slick and slow, sending sparks through her blood. He moaned against her pussy and the vibrations rolled through her, melting her into a puddle of lust. His thumbs parted her folds, and his next torturous lick massaged her needy clit. She almost flew off the bed.
“Fuck,” she gasped. “Yes. There. Please.”
Countless times in the past, Zach had playfully ignored her wishes just to hear her growl. Thank God he was too sensible to start that shit in bed. He licked her clit like it was his job, swirling his tongue around the sensitive bud, sucking and stroking, making her dizzy—literally dizzy—with heart-racing pleasure. She bit her lip as her vision darkened at the edges. Ignored it. Gasped recklessly, “More.”
He gave it to her, gripping her hips to hold her still and pushing his face into her slippery, aching cunt, making a mess of her. His moans grew louder and the bed bounced a little, until she realised that he was rocking his hips against the mattress—working his cock without hands. As if the taste of her turned him on so much he couldn’t stop himself. Maybe it was that possibility that snapped the band of delicious tension inside her. Maybe it was his open hunger, so rough and needy and unrestrained, that made her come.
She almost screamed, it was so sudden and intense. Shockwaves of pleasure ripped through her until her ears rang, but through it all, she felt Zach’s hands on her, and she loved their weight.
Languid and dazed, her heart slowing, she murmured, “I liked that.”
Zach laughed. “I appreciate the verbal confirmation.”
“Look at us communicating,” she said wryly.
“Like a dream.” He moved to lie over her, every rough-hewn inch of him pressed boldly against her body, the perfection of his smile filling her vision. She felt his thick erection pushing against her belly, that wicked piercing so different from his soft skin and crisp hair. She’d only just come, but her pussy tightened in anticipation of his swollen shaft. Her hips rolled without permission, rubbing against him, and he growled and bit his own lip.
“Fuck, Rae. Tell me you want me.”
“So much.” Her voice was shattered, but her lust rang out loud and clear. Their eyes met, and it was such a relief not to hide. “I want you so much in every way, and I have you, and I’m not letting you go.”
He groaned and thrust against her belly, his pre-come silky on her skin. He smelled like salt and desperation. “That was pretty fucking romantic, sunshine. Are you coming down with something?”
“Impatience.”
“I’ve got you,” he rasped. And then again, a few minutes later, his fingers slick and sure as he prepared her for his cock. “I’ve got you, love.” Tight, wet circles over her needy clit; long, thick fingers buried inside her. His jaw was tight, his control palpable, but she wanted the storm hiding inside him.
“Please,” she whispered. “I need you. I need you.”
He let her go and rolled on a condom.
Remembering the slow, blissful morning they’d shared last weekend, Rae lay on her side, her back against his chest. He grasped her thigh with a shaking hand and spread her legs. His breaths were laboured, his heart pounding so hard she felt it against her spine. Then the head of his cock nudged her entrance from behind.
She could barely speak. Even her moans were breathless. But she managed to say, “Now. Please. You’re mine. And I’m yours.”
He groaned as if the words were a touch. Then he thrust hard, rocked deep, and took her completely. His arms were iron bars around her, and each stroke of his cock unravelled her mind. She clutched at his tense forearms and gasped, sobbed, begged for more. He sank his teeth into her shoulder and gave it to her.
He gave her everything.
Rae’s second orgasm was a lightning-bolt blow to her nerve endings, a wave of beautiful devastation. Behind her, Zach choked out a moan, one hand gripping her hip to hold her still. “Jesus,” he gasped. “Fuck, you feel so good, squeezing my dick. Rae—”
She felt the moment he came, too, his whole body spasming behind her, his voice cutting out and his cock pulsing between her thighs. As soon as he finished, he rolled her over and kissed her like his life depended on it.
Later, when she was dazed and satisfied, and he’d dealt with the condom, she said, because she felt like it, “I really, really love you.”
“And I really, really love you.”
This was peace. Pure and simple.
He gathered her close and kissed the top of her head, holding her for a while. Then he broke the comfortable silence to say, “Nice of Duke to stay downstairs through all of that.”
Rae snorted, clapping a hand to her mouth. “Shut up.”
“I’m just saying. Very considerate.”
“You’re ridiculous.” She poked his ribs. He poked back. She pulled his hair. He smacked her arse and bent his head to lick her nipple. After a moment, she was gasping, “Alright, okay. You win.”
He pushed her onto her back. Bent over her breast again with obvious intent. “You’re damn right I do.”
Pleasure shivered through her, but somehow, she kept her wits. “Do you know what this is?”
He looked up, releasing her breast. He must’ve seen something serious in her face, because he caught her hand and twined their fingers together. “What is it, sunshine?”
“This is a happy ending.”
His eyes shone with satisfaction. “Oh. Shit. You’re right.”
Epilogue
Two Years Later
It was a sweltering Friday night in August, and the Unicorn’s beer garden was full of disapproving stares. Baby Ann McRae, infamously gauche divorcée, had recently increased her scandalous behaviour. Bad enough that she’d started sleeping with the town trollop, a man twelve years younger and ten times prettier than she was. Even worse that they’d moved in together, living in obnoxious sin, as if they truly didn’t care what the Ravenswood gossips said. Now they’d gone and fucking done it, they really, really had. Because Rae’s left hand, the one currently skating through Zach’s dark hair, sported an emerald and sapphire engagement ring so bright you could see it from space.
Despicable, all those razor-sharp eyes seemed to say.
Delicious, Rae thought at the sight of Zach’s smile. She leaned in to kiss it.
He turned as if he’d read her mind, curling an arm around her shoulders, dragging her close, kissing her hard. By the time they finished, Nate was rolling his eyes in a way that didn’t quite match his delighted grin, and Ruth was looking vaguely horrified.
But the poor woman couldn’t be too grossed-out, since she managed to complain a moment later. “Do you realise how horrendous it is that we are
all engaged? At the same time? As if we planned it, like… like sorority sisters?”
Evan’s look of triumph hadn’t faded for months. Even now, it sharpened as he winked at his fiancée. “I think it’s cute.”
“You would,” Ruth muttered, but she fingered the fine, silver necklace where her engagement ring hung, and her eyes seemed to smile while her mouth stayed disapproving.
“I agree,” Hannah said. “It’s cute.” When all eyes turned to her in astonishment, she arched her perfectly shaped brows. “What? It is.”
“That’s it,” Ruth snorted. “The world is ending. The apocalypse is now.”
“It’s a shame Laura and Samir are already married,” Evan mused. “We could’ve planned a four-way wedding.”
“We could’ve planned a what?!”
While the rest of the table wound Ruth up, Rae put her head on Zach’s shoulder and breathed in the scent of happiness: lemonade and red wine, hot, languid summer, and Zach. Her love. Molten iron, dappled sunlight, and cool certainty.
He pressed a kiss to her forehead and murmured. “Penny for your thoughts.”
She smiled. “You can have them for free.”
* * *
The End
Thank you so much for reading THAT KIND OF GUY. I hope you enjoyed Zach and Rae’s story as much as I enjoyed writing it!
This marks the end of the Ravenswood series, but don’t worry - I’m working on a brand new series of fresh, sexy romcoms, starting with GET A LIFE, CHLOE BROWN. After a brush with death, boring Chloe Brown decides it’s time to spice up her life. But when she enlists her bad boy superintendent to the cause, things get hotter than she anticipated…
One-click GET A LIFE, CHLOE BROWN now!
Want more steamy, fake relationship goodness a la Zach and Rae? Download THE PRINCESS TRAP, in which an ordinary HR worker finds herself playing fake fiancée to Scandinavia’s most scandalous prince. Warning: the dirty talk in this one is epic.
“Ruben is the bisexual Dominant of my dreams…When he explained that he has an ‘oral fetish,’ I just about lost it.”
- Red Hot Books
Keep reading for a sneak peek at the story…
Chapter One
Cherry Neita was not the type of woman to voluntarily use stairs.
As far as she was concerned, they were inconvenient, inappropriate, and a public nuisance. Unless she was firmly strapped into a sports bra, with a bottle of Lucozade in hand, Cherry avoided physical exertion like the plague.
Which was why she had perfected the art of pushing into the queue for the lift. And her colleagues here at the Academy made it so easy! Bless them.
“Excuse me, gentlemen, thank you!” Cherry wiggled her way through the gaggle of men loitering in front of the building’s single lift.
Why the Academy’s senior leadership team was housed with the lowly administrative staff—and why the tower they all shared had only one lift—Cherry didn’t know. She avoided wondering about it, too, because poor organisation made her skin crawl. Honestly, if they’d only consulted her during the bloody planning stages…
“Morning, Cherry, darling,” beamed Jeff, the Academy’s rosy-cheeked Head of Key Stage 4. For a man who spent so much time working with teenagers, he was always remarkably cheerful. Cherry had to admire his fortitude.
“Morning, Jeff. How’s—?” Her sugary-sweet response was interrupted by a disgruntled muttering from somewhere behind her. Cherry turned to find Mike Cousins, Head of Geography, giving her a dark look. The sort of look that said, I’ve been waiting here for ages. How did she get to the front of the queue?
It was the arse-crack of bloody morning, and Cherry hadn’t downed an espresso yet. This was her danger zone—the point in time when she was most likely to lose her grip on the sparkling façade her job required, and instead cuss someone in Patois borrowed from her parents.
But that wouldn’t do at all. So she collected herself with great effort, dragging her lips up from a demure smile to a full-on, charming grin. Mike blinked under the full force of her dimples, then smiled back, all annoyance forgotten.
The men in this place responded to a pretty face like babies to a bottle. And she was supposed to respect them.
Sigh.
Turning back to Jeff, Cherry continued. “How’s Sandra and the kids?”
“Not bad, not bad.” The lift arrived with a ding, and Jeff stepped aside to let her walk in first. What a gentleman. “Little one’s teething,” he went on, “but otherwise well.”
“Wonderful!”
A handful of staff members forced themselves into the lift behind Jeff and Cherry. They faced front like good little soldiers. Cherry, unembarrassed, studied her reflection in the lift’s mirrored back wall. Life was too short to pretend that you didn’t want to check your lipstick.
“And how are you, Cherry?”
“Oh, you know.” She fluffed at her hair, as though the mass of dark coils weren’t springy enough already. “Same as usual.”
Ding.
“Well!” Cherry turned away from her reflection with a smile. Just a small one, no dimples. She tried not to unleash them in enclosed spaces. “I’ll see you later, Jeff.”
“Cheerio, love.” He smiled back, genuine as always. Jeff was probably the only senior member of staff who didn’t make her want to be sick. He was sweet, he was honest, and he cared about the kids, so Cherry always had a kind word for him.
The rest of them could get fucked.
She stepped out of the lift and into the safety of the admin floor with relief. It was the only place at Rosewood Academy that felt like something other than a greedy, corporate pipeline.
See, once upon a time, Rosewood had been an actual school. Until a mate of the Prime Minister’s with a background in private education had taken over and ‘academised’—AKA monetised—the place. Now the kids were pumped through the system like battery hens, and woe betide anyone who fell below industry standard.
Cherry wound her way through the rows of desks and occasional offices that filled the floor, greeting colleagues as she went. She didn’t bother with exaggerated wiggles and dimpled smiles up here. No-one was silly enough to fall for it, or dangerous enough to warrant her Darling Doll performance, anyway. She reached the HR office and paused, reading the sign blu-tacked to the door with a frown.
CHERRY NEITA, KEEP OUT!
With a shrug, she swept into the room.
“Oh! Cherry! What are you doing here?” Inside the office, two women huddled protectively around Cherry’s desk. She struggled to place them. They were in finance, she thought… and the little, dark-haired one might be called Julie.
The taller of the two women looked at Cherry as if she were a rampaging bull. “Didn’t you see the sign?”
“No,” Cherry said blithely. “What are you doing at my desk, girls?”
Across the room, seated neatly at her own desk, Rose McCall snorted. She raised one pale, wrinkled hand to her spectacles, peering at Cherry over their half-moon lenses. “What do you think, darling?”
Cherry held back a sigh. It took great effort, but she managed.
“Sorry, Cherry,” the tall one wheedled. “It’s just that Julie and I were talking, and she—”
Cherry held up a hand. “You don’t have to explain. Have I ruined the surprise?”
“A little bit,” Julie admitted. “I don’t know how you missed the sign.”
“It’s a mystery for the ages,” murmured Rose. Cherry gave the older woman A Look.
“Well, anyway,” Julie said. She tried for a grin, but it looked more like a wince. “Surprise!” The pair sprang apart like show girls, waving their hands towards Cherry’s desk. Or rather, towards the monstrous mess they’d made of it.
Her neat and tidy workspace was covered in glitter and confetti. In the centre of the desk sat a huge, ceramic number '30' in a screaming shade of pink. As if she didn’t know precisely how old she was.
God, Cherry hated birthdays. They were so… unn
ecessary.
“Oh, you two,” she said, pasting a coy smile onto her face. “You shouldn’t have.”
“Really,” Rose echoed. “You shouldn’t have.”
The woman was a bloody nuisance. A brilliant bloody nuisance, but a nuisance all the same.
Julie’s hopeful face fell. “I know you hate a fuss, but—”
“No!” Cherry said firmly. “This is lovely. I very much appreciate it. I—” she broke off as she caught sight of a little box beside the ornament. “Is that Hotel Chocolat?”
“Yes!” Julie said proudly.
Rose sat up straight in her chair. “Where?” she demanded, squinting across the room.
“Never you mind.” Cherry stepped forward and swept up the box with a smile. “Really, ladies, thank you so much. What a lucky girl I am.”
The admin staff persisted in sucking up to her purely because Rose, the Head of HR and mistress of all she surveyed, was impossible to suck up to. Usually it was rather annoying, but in this case, Cherry couldn’t pretend to mind. As the girls left, looking rather pleased with themselves, she ripped open her box of chocolates.
“Don’t be greedy, love.” Rose stood and sauntered over, her fluid movements as deceptive as her plump, rosy cheeks. Rose McCall was, Cherry knew, sixty-seven. She appeared no older than fifty, despite her lavender-grey chignon.
“Says you,” Cherry mumbled, her mouth full. But she held out the box, and didn’t even complain when Rose took two truffles at once.
“I am sorry,” Rose said conspiratorially. She perched herself on the edge of Cherry’s desk. “I had no idea they were going to surprise you. Truthfully, I didn’t realise anyone knew your birthday.”
“Facebook,” Cherry said glumly.
“Oh, yes.” Rose popped a truffle into her mouth. “Well, you know I don’t hold with that nonsense myself.”
That Kind of Guy Page 21