by Green, A. S.
“Don’t hold it back. Feel it. Feel me.”
“Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck. I’m going to come again. How?”
“Then come, Princess. Do it. Do it now!”
She cries out as she comes for the fourth time today. Her tight pussy convulses around my cock like a vise grip. I pick up my pace, slamming into her, moving her up the mattress with each thrust until she has to press one palm against the headboard to keep from going through the wall.
Claire’s nails scrape down my back to my ass, and my heavy balls pull up. I’m like a fucking machine, and the more I work, the longer her orgasm pulses on. It won’t fucking stop.
I’ve never felt anything like it, and it’s my undoing. I push up on my arms and shoot into her, over and over, filling her pussy with my cream as her aftershocks continue to pulse around me, milking me dry.
When my balls are finally empty, I shudder and collapse onto her sweat-slicked body. We both lie there. Limp. In each other’s arms.
For a while, I think we both might be dead. Then I grow conscious of my hammering heart and the feel of her fingers slowly stroking through my hair.
I test my lungs. Yes. I’m still breathing. This is good. Very good.
She lifts her hips, and I roll off her. She rolls with me, snuggling into my side with her arm draped over my chest. I’m exhausted. My body feels like it’s made of concrete. I have a half-conscious thought about getting a washcloth and cleaning us both up, but I can’t move.
A minute later, I’m on the cusp of sleep when she swirls her finger through the hairs on my chest. “So,” she says.
A small smile pulls at my lips. I guess she likes to talk after sex. My smile gets even bigger when I realize I’d talk to her forever if that’s what she wanted.
“So?” I ask.
“Why did you ask how I felt about roadhouses?”
I laugh internally at the realization that all this time, she’s been thinking while I’ve been on the verge of needing life support. “Nothing important.”
“You think we’re too different, don’t you?”
I open my eyes and turn my head. Her hair is a mess; her expression is worried. There’s no need for her to worry. I won’t be gone in the morning. “No, Princess.”
“You said you wanted to see me again, but you’re not sure we really will.” Now she sounds accusatory.
I drag my finger down her nose, then lean in to kiss her lips. When I pull back, her face has softened.
“Earlier... This afternoon... Yeah, I thought we might be too different for us to work, but I still would have seen you again.”
“You would have? Why?”
“I figured...” I kiss her one more time. “Worst-case scenario...” I kiss her again. “We’d catch up whenever your Mercedes was in need of a repair.”
Her eyes go wide, and she pushes up on her elbow. “But who knows when that would have been?”
Her alarm pulls a laugh out of me, and I get her to lie back down again. “Soon, Princess.”
“Soon?”
I tighten my arm around her and kiss the top of her head. “I may have told Jimmy to leave your distributor cap a little on the loose side.”
“But...” She lifts her head off my chest, and she blinks in disbelief. “I might not have come back to your garage to have it looked at.”
Now I really laugh. “Yes, you would have.”
“And how do you know that?”
“Because you want me as badly as I want you. Haven’t you ever read a fairytale? The princess always gets her prince.”
She makes a little snort at that and snuggles back in. “Princes aren’t real. At least, not in America.”
I don’t know if it’s intentional or done subconsciously, but her hand grazes over my abs, going lower until she’s cupped my balls, claiming them as her own.
My very willing cock swells in response. “And you wanted a real man, Princess?”
She gives me an affirmative squeeze.
“That’s good. Because I’m as real as they come.” I roll onto her and take her mouth. She lets her knees fall apart and kisses me back. Her one hand slides into my hair while the fingers of her other hand come up to trace the side of my ’stache.
When I feel the heat rolling off her pussy, I groan down her throat, feeling inspired. “How many times can you get your engine revved in one day?”
“Don’t know,” she says, smiling against my mouth.
“Then buckle up, Princess. We’re about to find out.”
* * * * *
About the Author
A.S. Green lives in the cold, upper Midwest with her husband and, on those blessed occasions, three mostly grown children. (Call your mother!) She spends summers on Lake Superior, which is the muse for many of her novels, and she is a sucker for down-to-earth men who work with their hands (if they play guitar, that’s an added bonus). She loves all things Irish—particularly music, dancing, and Jameson. When she’s not writing or reading romance, she’s traveling, camping, visiting book clubs, and blogging for Writer Unboxed.
@asgreenbooks
asgreenbooks.com
Acknowledgments
A big thank you goes to my agent, Jacqueline Flynn, who encouraged me to sally forth from the world of young adult fiction into the world of grown-up romance. Who knew this would be so much fun? (Oh, right. You did.) Thank you also to my editor Kerri Buckley and my new family at Harlequin Books and Carina Press. Finally, thanks to my dear friend Heather who introduced me to the genre and always waves her freak flag high.
Introducing the Carina Press Romance Promise!
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One-click with confidence. This title is part of the Carina Press Romance Promise: all the romance you’re looking for with an HEA/HFN. It’s a promise!
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The way her breath catches in her throat, the way she stares at his chest and not just because of his ink. The goosebumps on her skin when he leans in close...
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Real Man
Copyright © 2018 by A.S. Green
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All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.
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