SinfullyYours

by Lisa Fox

  “Hey, Seven.” She gave him a quick nod, letting him know everything was fine. She pointed at the bottle of beer in front of Rick. “I’ll have one of those.”

  Seven walked away to fetch her drink and Rick looked over at her. “Friend of yours?”

  She shrugged. “The French Quarter isn’t all that big. You get to know the people in your neighborhood.”

  “And some neighbors are exceptionally friendly?”

  “Some are,” she said, deciding to be touched rather annoyed by his jealous tone. “It’s just nice to have someone watch your back every once in a while.”

  Rick nodded, taking her point. Seven retuned to deposit the beer in front of Bailey. He gave Rick one last warning frown and then walked away. “Is his name really Seven? Like the number?”

  “Yup,” she said and took a sip of beer. It was delightfully cold and it perfectly complemented the lingering taste of his kiss. She grinned. “The luckiest number.”

  He ran his knuckled down her arm. “I know I’m feeling lucky.”

  Her cheeks heated, and she was surprised by just how taken she was with his silly flattery.

  He caressed her forearm, his fingers trailing over the inside of her wrist, leaving behind a delightful tingling in their wake. “Tell me something about yourself, Bailey. One random thing.”

  “One random thing?” she repeated trying to think of something to tell him. “I once crashed for a little while in a basement apartment in the Tenderloin—in San Francisco. There were five of us jammed into this four hundred-square foot space and for about six weeks, we all lived exclusively on cheese.” Not the best story, but it was the first that that came to mind.

  Rick raised an eyebrow. “Why cheese?”

  She shook her head, sipped her beer. “It was the only thing in the house. One of the guys worked at a fondue restaurant, and he would bring it home every night. The rest of us were too lazy or too poor to buy anything else.”

  He smiled. “What were you doing in San Francisco?”

  She wagged her finger at him. “You said one thing.” She touched his pec, loving the feel of all that hard muscle under her fingertips. “It’s your turn. Tell me one thing about you.”

  He took a sip of beer, thinking it over. “I’ve eaten crickets, lizards, scorpions, snakes. I’ve even drunk a cobra’s blood.”

  Bailey’s stomach twisted a little bit. “On purpose?”

  He nodded.

  “Were they any good?”

  He shook his head.

  She laughed. “Then why did you do it?”

  “Training exercises, dares, curiosity.” He grinned. “You know.”

  “No, I don’t know,” she said, grimacing. “But I respect it. Have you done many crazy things on a dare?”

  “One thing, remember?” He moved his stool closer to her and propped his elbow up in the bar. “Your turn.”

  She caught the whiff of his cologne and was consumed by the sudden urge to bury her face in the crook of his neck and breathe him in. It was time to redirect this conversation to better topics. “I made out with one of Lady Gaga’s backup dancers at a beat-down, roadhouse bar right outside of Memphis a couple of years ago.”

  “How did you know he was one of her backup dancers?”

  Bailey smirked. “She was very vocal about it.”

  “Was she?” His eyebrows rose with obvious interest. “Was she hot?”

  Not as hot as you. “I only make out with hot people.”

  “Understandable.” He leaned a little closer to her, lowered his voice. “How far did this make out session go?”

  “Oh, no,” she said with a smile. “I believe it’s your turn.”

  He nodded, his gaze slowly traveling over her. “I once got an incredible woman to flash me on Bourbon Street.”

  Again, his flattery touched her deeper than it probably should have. “Well, I once met a hot guy on Bourbon Street and went back to his hotel room with him.”

  “Yeah?” he asked, and she could hear the huskiness in his voice. “What happened?”

  She leaned forward and his gaze flicked to her cleavage. “He fucked me really hard.”

  He put his hand on her leg. “Was it good?”

  She held his gaze and smiled. “It was so good, I get wet every time I think about it.”

  His hand inched a little higher. “And when you think about it, do you touch yourself?”

  She exhaled a shaky breath. “Yes.”

  His fingers slipped under the hem of her shirt. “Are you wet right now?”

  “Oh, yes.” Her throat went dry when his caressed her inner thigh. “But that’s a lot of things. It’s your turn.”

  “I want to come in your mouth.” He cupped her face with his other hand. “Tonight.” He dragged his thumb over her lower lip. “Will you suck me again?”

  She wondered if he would feel the shivers racing over her skin. “I live just around the corner. Care to walk me home, Chief Warrant Officer Young?”

  He rose from the barstool and held out his elbow to her. “It would be my pleasure.”

  She slipped her arm through his, and they exited the bar. They walked down Rampart Street, passing the Voodoo Spiritual Temple, a man standing outside a bar dressed as a cockatoo. Someone was playing the saxophone nearby, wailing out the blues, and a herd of young boys with bottle caps stuck on the bottom of their discount store sneakers ran past them in a thundering clamor of noise and laughter.

  “I love this city,” he said, with a laugh.

  “It does have its quirks.” She looked over at him, her heart taken with just how handsome he was under the streetlights. “Have you been a lot of places?”

  “A few. I’m from Ohio, and I’ve been stationed in Texas, Hawaii, Thailand, Iraq.”

  “You were in Iraq?”

  “Just about everyone’s been in Iraq at one time or another.”

  “What was it like?”

  He shook his head. “Nothing worth talking about tonight.” He looked over her and squeezed her hand. “Maybe another time.”

  She let the words stand between them. Would there be another time? She really did like him. They turned off Rampart. “This is me,” she said, pointing across the street to the shotgun house she rented.

  He followed her inside, stopping to admire her framed print of an old NY Talk newspaper cover, two women fighting with the caption, Le Romantique et le Sauvage. She dropped her purse on the coffee table and tilted her head toward the back of the house. He followed her with a grin.

  “Hey,” he said when they entered her bedroom. He touched the single strand of Mardi Gras beads sitting on top of her dresser. “You kept them.”

  She blushed, embarrassed by her own sentimentality. She should have thought ahead and put them away. Too late now. “I worked hard for those. I wasn’t about to get rid of them.”

  He put the beads aside and took her into his arms. “I should have brought you more.”

  “Beads only work as currency on Mardi Gras.” She ran her fingers over his chest. It was even more fantastic then she remembered it being. “You’re going to have to think of something else to give me.”

  He nuzzled her throat, licked the sensitive skin right behind her ear. “I think I’ve got something you might like.”

  “Oh, yeah?” she asked, her heart rate instantly accelerating.

  “Yeah.” He brought her hand to his cock. “How about this?”

  “Hmm,” she said, fondling him over his jeans. “That is nice.”

  He reached around and unzipped her skirt, pushing it to the floor. His lips met hers for a long, slow kiss, his hand snaking down to cup her pussy. Liquid heat rushed to her center when he dipped his fingers into her hot folds. “You are wet.”

  “I told you.” She lifted his shirt off over his head to rake her fingernails over his abs.

  He stripped off her shirt and bra, cupped the back of her head, and thrust his tongue deep into her mouth. She moaned into him, curling her fingers in his hai
r. Fire scorched her blood as he teased her folds, his clever fingers making her writhe.

  “You want my cock?” He pushed two fingers inside her. “Here?”

  Her legs went weak and she gripped his arms to keep from falling. “Yes.”

  She cried out when his palm pressed against her swollen clit. “You’re gonna have to suck it first. Get it nice and hard.”

  She reached between them, found the bulge in his jeans, squeezed. “Feels pretty hard to me already.”

  He withdrew his fingers from her pussy and she squealed when he spanked her ass. “Did I ask your opinion?” He spanked her again. “Are you going to suck my dick or not?”

  No man had ever made her as wet as he did. But then, no man had ever taken charge of her the way he did. Bailey was used to running things in the bedroom, directing her partners for her own maximum pleasure. It was surprising how easily she relinquished control to him. And how much she enjoyed it. She met his gaze and then slowly went to her knees before him.

  “Good,” he breathed out as she unzipped his jeans. He gathered her hair into his fists. She helped him step out of his jeans and then took his cock in her hand. The smooth, soft skin of his cock was hot against her palm as she stroked him. He gave her hair a little tug, pulling her face toward him. “Open your mouth.”

  She started to lick him, but he gripped her hair harder and took control, pumping into her mouth with a deep, steady thrust. He puffed out little grunts of arousal and desire, murmured words of lust and encouragement. She held onto his thighs as he used her, the powerful muscles trembling under her hands, and she relaxed her jaw, taking him as deep as she could.

  He pulled out with a groan and held his cock over her mouth, tracing the outline of her lips with the head. “I think it’s hard enough, don’t you?”

  She licked the underside. “Oh, are you asking my opinion now?”

  He gripped her arm and pulled her to her feet, drawing her into his embrace. His cock pushed between her legs, resting against her outer folds. Primal need clouded her brain and she jumped when he spanked her ass. “You have quite the little attitude.”

  She grinned up at him. “I told you, sometimes I’m a very bad girl.”

  He spanked her again and she yelped. “Looks like I’m going to have to teach you to behave.”

  She met his gaze, his blue-gray eyes. She almost wished she didn’t like him as much as she did. “You’re welcome to try.”

  He grinned, nipped her lower lip, and then spun her around. His cock pressed against her ass and his breath was hot in her ear. “Bend over and spread your legs.”

  She arched her back, pressing back against him as she leaned forward. Her clit throbbed and she braced herself on the bed, ready for him to take her.

  He took a step back from her, putting space between them. She watched him over her shoulder as he ran his index finger up the length of her entrance. Her legs trembled from that raw wave of lust that flooded her pussy, and she whimpered when he slid his finger inside her. “Do you think you deserve my cock?”

  It was hard to think anything with his finger stroking her deep and she rocked against his hand, powerless to resist the rhythm he set. “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  She moaned when he hit her g-spot, her eyes rolling back in her head. “I can make it feel really good.”

  “How?”

  “With my pussy.” He stroked her deeper and she went up on tiptoes, offering him everything. “Please, Rick.” He added another finger and stole her breath. “Please.”

  He took his hand from her pussy and shoved it into her mouth. “What if I want this instead?” he asked, gripping her jaw.

  She writhed beneath him, burning with need. “Yes,” she said though it came out muffled around his hand. “Anything.”

  “That’s right. Anything I want.” He stepped back, and she heard the distinctive sound of a condom package being ripped open. A moment later, he spread her open with his thumbs, the head of his cock pressing against her entrance. “Mine,” he said and thrust into her.

  A moaned exploded out of her as he filled her. He was even bigger than she remembered, thicker.

  He gripped her hips, pulled out and thrust back in. “Say it. Tell me your pussy belongs to me.”

  “It’s you pussy!” She screamed and bit down on the mattress. “Your pussy, your pussy, your pussy,” she chanted as he pounded her from behind.

  The sounds of their heavy breathing and the slap of their bodies filled the room. She was probably not going to be able to walk tomorrow, but she didn’t care. It was too good to slow down, too good to stop, too good to ever end. She rode him mercilessly, working him harder and harder toward the release that was building within her.

  He gripped her hair and yanked her head back. “Does my pussy want to come?”

  Her back arched painfully, his cocked forced deeper inside her. “Yes,” she panted. “Please, Rick, make me come.”

  “Here you go, baby,” he said, and found her clit. She quaked as he massaged it. “Come.”

  A few more thrusts and her body was heaving, the orgasm tearing out of her in a furious wave.

  “Fuck,” he moaned as her body milked his cock. “That feels so fucking good.” He bit down on her shoulder and plowed into her deeper, groaning as he emptied himself.

  Bailey collapsed on the bed in a heap when he finally let her go. He crashed down beside her, laughing as he caught his breath.

  “You are amazing,” he said, taking her into his arms.

  She smiled as she snuggled into his embrace, content and completely at peace with the world. They lay together for some time, stroking and caressing one another, indulging in light kisses and soft sighs.

  “So,” he said, running his fingers up and down her back. “Do I have to wait another two weeks before you call me again?”

  She rested her chin on his chest. This talk had come sooner or later. She had been hoping to put it off though. “This was fun, but I don’t know that I want anything serious, Rick.”

  “Then don’t be so serious.” He traced her jaw, kissed her lips. “I want to see you again.”

  She brushed his nipple, teasing it with her fingertip. “Maybe I just want sex.”

  He squeezed her ass. “It’s a good start.”

  “That might be all you get.” She met his gaze. “Would you be okay with that?”

  He ran his hand over his face. “I’ve got to be a fucking idiot,” he muttered. “No, I would not be okay with that.”

  Bailey laughed. It was only slightly bitter. “You know, everybody says that men are just after sex, but that’s so not true. Why would you want a relationship when you can get all the sex you want for free?”

  His arms tightened around her and he rolled her over on the bed, trapping her beneath him. “Because I want everything.” He looked directly into her eyes. “I never settle for less. Do you?”

  She reached up, touched his cheek. “Relationships are complicated. Why bother with all that drama?”

  “Because being with you feels good. I want to know why you were in San Francisco, how you met that backup dancer. I want to hear all about it and then I want to take you home and fuck you until you scream.” He rested his elbows on either side of her head and cupped her face. “Getting only one part of that is not going to be enough for me.” His expression softened and he lowered his voice. “Tell me something, Bailey, did you think about me at all during those two weeks?”

  She sighed, knowing that she had lost this debate, finally accepting that maybe it was one she didn’t want to win anyway. “Every day.”

  He nodded slowly. “I thought about you too.”

  “Ugh, fine,” she said, letting her head fall back against the bed. No amount of world-weary bitterness could compete against that kind of sweet sincerity. She had to laugh. “You win! Let’s get married.”

  He laughed along with her. “Marriage, huh?” He shifted on top of her, letting her feel his renewed arousal. “I hope yo
u’re planning on showing me something exceptionally good.”

  “Well, there is one thing…”

  “What might that be?” he asked, resettling himself between her thighs.

  She flipped him over onto his back, straddled his waist, and leaned in for a long, deep kiss that left them both breathless. Dating him was going to be either very fun or extremely exasperating. If she was really lucky, it would be a bit of both. She looked done into his handsome face and grinned. “Here, let me show you.”

  About Lisa Fox

  World-renowned neurosurgeon, master chef, secret member of American royalty, seducer of legions of beautiful, outrageously sexy angels and demons and vampires and werewolves and the occasional pirate, Lisa Fox has done it all…in her own mind. In reality, she can generally be found at her desk with a cup of coffee close at hand. Or maybe a martini. It really depends on the day.

  Feedback, comments, opinions, words of wisdom, chocolate cake and the addresses of super-hot men are always appreciated and encouraged. Please feel free to contact Lisa any time.

  Lisa welcomes comments from readers. You can find her website and email addresses on her author bio page at www.ellorascave.com.

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  Also by Lisa Fox

  A Matter of Lust

  Knightly Desire

  Santa’s Sleeping Beauty

  Sculpting a Demon

  Print books by Lisa Fox

  Art of Attraction anthology

  Lust Demons anthology

  Ellora’s Cave Publishing

  www.ellorascave.com

  Sinfully Yours

  ISBN 9781419949326

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  Sinfully Yours Copyright © 2013 Lisa Fox

  Edited by Briana St. James

  Cover design and photography by Syneca

  Model: Georgio

  Electronic book publication November 2013