Good Girls Like it Dirty

by Carmen Falcone

  “You know, I was thinking… I wish I’d been there while you stripped in front of Paula and the staff and told her off.”

  Monique rolled her eyes. She refused to apologize for her behavior. If he wanted to scold her, then so be it. “Sad to say, but she had it coming.”

  He gave her an apologetic smile. “She was unfair to you, and I know I didn’t help. I’m sorry.”

  Relief streamed in her veins. “Thanks.”

  He glanced at her sideways, and she caught herself grinning. He flicked on the satellite radio until a soothing jazz song filled the air. For the rest of the drive, she enjoyed the misleading serenity of the sultry, melodious ballads invading her eardrums. They’d never shared a quiet moment like this, not talking or kissing, since, well, the beginning of their…how to call it? She shifted in her seat, equally excited and worried about the prospect of sleeping with him. He’d been her boss. Correction: had been married to her boss. What if she fell madly for a man she couldn’t keep?

  After all, as a recently separated male, he sought adventure for now—and she didn’t blame him. And as for her, she’d head to France, hug her dear family, and if all went well and she got accepted as a teacher in the nonprofit program…she’d go to Senegal for work.

  The car came to a halt, and she blinked, quickly realizing he had just parked it inside his garage. He got out first then opened the door for her. Don’t overthink. Just have fun. You’re entitled to a little adventure or two.

  When she walked into the kitchen, she couldn’t help but notice the vases of red flowers on top of the granite countertops and large island. The formal dining room seemed less cold than when she’d last cleaned it; a dark red tablecloth covered the oak table, and plates and glasses of different sizes were set for two people.

  “You hired a caterer?” Whoever he hired scrambled to pull off a nice intimate atmosphere at a moment’s notice. She hadn’t seen any evidence of females in his house, ever since his separation.

  He opened the fridge and grabbed a bottle of wine. “No. I cooked.”

  “I didn’t know you could cook.”

  He placed the wine on the counter and produced two glasses from the cupboard. “I haven’t in a long time, which is why I have the Thai place on speed dial in case I screw it up or you’re allergic to seafood.”

  “I’m not allergic.”

  He stopped moving for a moment and shot her a lingering look that seared her insides. “Good.”

  Her heart flipped foolishly in her chest. It all made sense now…he was waiting on her and offering her something she usually did. When he served her wine, she bit her lip. This man was trouble, and for the first time since she could remember, she had no witty comeback. Merde. I’m so screwed.

  Chapter Four

  “How is it?” Zaine managed to keep the anxiety from his voice. Ever since she’d told him yes, he’d gone home and thought about her and how she’d added excitement to his life in such a short period of time. Monique was ballsy and unpredictable, a combination he found hard to resist. A combination he didn’t want to resist.

  Why would he? He’d mourned the drawn-out end of his marriage, and now the time to officially move on had arrived. Excitement stirred in his groin. Monique was the perfect rebound experience, and their deal the icing on the cake.

  Monique swirled the fettuccine around her fork. “It’s delicious.”

  She took a bite, and he watched her, fascinated. Did her accent get sexier by the hour? Thankfully, the table hid his massive erection.

  He took a mouthful of the seafood pasta and had to agree it wasn’t half bad. Thanks to Monique, old pleasures resurfaced.

  “Why did you stop cooking?” she asked.

  “I cooked when I was first married, but then after a while we weren’t home at night at the same time or we just went out to eat. So I stopped putting in the effort,” he said, remembering the many nights he’d try something new and wait for his wife, who showed up too late or prioritized an important business dinner instead. He always wondered if she didn’t encourage his culinary hobby because of her packed schedule or if she didn’t enjoy his food.

  Monique took a sip of iced water. “Such a crime. This is really good.”

  “Thank you. You’re really good too. I want to know everything about you: your likes, your dislikes. What makes you tick,” he said, leaning closer.

  She put her fork to the side of the plate and shifted in her seat. Then, she blurted out, “I’m a Scorpio, I have three younger siblings. My parents are divorced, my mom never remarried. I like singing in the shower, and I don’t like techno music. There should be a special place in hell for email hackers. I also dislike when strangers talk too close to my face.”

  A thrill of excitement moved through him. Getting close to her face sounded delicious. He planned on kissing her, stroking her jaw, licking her neck. “That’s a broad range. And what inspired you to come to the United States?”

  “I want to join an international teaching program that offers positions in Africa and one of the requirements is proficiency in English. So I saved money and came here to improve my language skills.”

  “Nice. Why didn’t you choose England?” he asked. After all, it would probably have been more cost-effective for her to choose a neighboring country. Not that he was complaining, of course.

  She tilted her head to the side, as if thinking of her answer. She gave him a look full of wonder, a red flag for her young age. “I could have, yes. But I wanted to explore the world. I didn’t have many opportunities to do so growing up. I figure now that my brothers are more independent and my mom is doing better, I can finally see things for myself,” she said, and her tone sobered at the end.

  His heart squeezed a bit as he digested her words. She’d had a tough life, and now wanted to enjoy it and work hard to be able to enjoy it some more. To give back. A relationship didn’t seem in the cards for her, what with her ambitious plans to move to Africa in the near future.

  “How about you, Zaine? Do you sing in the shower?”

  “I haven’t.” But if you join me in the shower, I’ll belt out any tune.

  She turned her lips downward. “From the looks of it, you haven’t done anything fun in a long time,” she said, and if someone else had said it, maybe he’d have thought it intrusive or sarcastic. But raw honesty exuded from her, part of her modus operandi.

  He winked at her. “I did something fun last night.” Images of how he kissed her in the laundry room and how she lost herself in him with such lustful abandon popped in his mind. His cock strained against his pants, and he sucked in a breath.

  She gave him a sultry smile. “True.”

  He swallowed down the lump lodged in his throat. “You’re very blunt, Monique.”

  An undeniable spark shined in the depths of her green eyes. “I can’t help it.”

  “Don’t change. I like it.” He stood. “I’ll get the dessert.”

  He headed to the kitchen. He’d bought some macarons, luscious strawberries, and a chocolate cake. He had no idea what she liked, but just in case he had some sorbet in the freezer too. He set the strawberries and the whipped cream on a tray and returned to the table. To his surprise, she was no longer sitting there. She’d vanished.

  He placed the tray on the table and scratched his head. Shit. Had she bailed on him? Changed her mind? A splash from the terrace relieved him tremendously.

  With long, powerful strides, he hurried to the outdoor area. If not for the splash, he could have found her by following the path of her clothes scattered on the pebbled floor. Her black dress pooled at the foot of the lounge chair, and her bra and panties lay closer to the edge of the pool. His cock reached a painful level of arousal.

  She swam inside his kidney-shaped pool, the built-in lights outlining her perfect body. He touched his belt, but as she came out for air, he stopped, unable to take his eyes off her slick wet hair and the smooth curve of her shoulders. She was stunning, and when she parted her bow-shaped
pink lips and licked them, his cock grew even harder.

  “Give me a little show,” she said.

  A little show? He clasped his belt buckle. “I wear the pants in a relationship,” he said, then a second later the foolishness of his own words rang in his ears. Doesn’t sound like it if you have to say it out loud, macho man. His gut clenched.

  She offered him an easy smile. “That’s too bad, because I’d love to see your pants come off.”

  He shook his head. Monique got game. “Cute.”

  After keeping her in suspense for a second or two, he unbuckled his belt and tossed it on the ground. Then he unzipped his pants and pulled them down along with his black boxers. His gaze searched for hers, and he didn’t hide his amusement when she glanced at his cock with wide eyes.

  “Stroke yourself for me. It’s only fair. You’ve seen me masturbate before,” she said matter-of-factly.

  Zaine fisted his rod, blood rushing down, then he stroked himself hard up and down, his eyes on hers. She licked the corner of her mouth and touched her breasts, which floated just above the waterline, kneading herself and circling the hard nipples.

  His rod grew stiffer, his balls contracting. What he wouldn’t give to unload on those heavenly tits. All in good time.

  She wanted to play games. As long as he got to fuck her soon, he was in. “You like big cocks, don’t you?”

  She chewed on her lower lip. God, he loved how amidst all of her sassiness she showed him glimpses of modesty. “Yes, but this thing you have…cockzilla. I don’t know if I can handle it.”

  He squeezed the head of his dick, pre-cum coating the tip. “I’ll help you handle it just fine.”

  She lifted her breasts higher in the air to expose them, and her nipples stood out even more. “Will you, Monsieur? Will you stick it nice and good inside my pussy and ram into me hard and deep?”

  Her dirty talk pushed him close to the edge. “Yes,” he hissed, stroking himself faster. “I need release. So, as much as I love this filthy exchange, I’d rather come in your mouth or on those tits that have my name on them, princess.”

  She slid one of her hands down and moaned, her eyes never leaving his. “Me too. Oh, me too, Monsieur Zaine. My pussy is soaking wet for you.”

  His heart flipped in his chest, beating madly. If he ever came close to having a coronary, this was it. He’d either fuck her or die, there was no in between. “Monique. Holy fuck.”

  He removed his shoes and socks and jumped into the heated water with a total lack of finesse. In a couple of strokes, he glanced around, searching for her. The waves he’d made when he jumped had quieted, and the stillness around told him she was nowhere to be found. What? He saw her delectable ass as she climbed out of the other side of the pool, chuckling.

  “Come get me,” she said.

  Determined to survive his extreme case of blue balls, he swam to the edge, then scrambled out of the pool, dripping wet. He didn’t care for one second about the droplets on his terrace or in his house as he strode back inside. He followed the sound of her infectious chuckles and wished he were as amused.

  His heart galloped out of his chest. The anticipation of being with her sent hot bolts through his bloodstream, and in seconds, all the strenuous workouts and karate sessions meant nothing.

  She ran upstairs but if she thought he’d let her get away from him, she had another thing coming. “Monsieur…” she called him.

  Following her musical voice, he rushed to the second floor. He found her in the hallway, perhaps where she’d been dwelling on which room to hide in. He didn’t need to touch her, his stare must have warned her he was done with games, for she stepped back until she was pressed against the wall.

  She breathed shallowly, her tits rising up and down. “Nice warm-up, wasn’t it?” Droplets still clung to her long, wavy blonde hair. She parted her lips, her gaze falling on his own.

  They were both naked, inches away from each other. A beat of tension passed between them, their labored breathing the only sound occupying the space. He could feel the veins of his dick expanding, his body begging for release. Air got sucked out of his lungs as he slowly erased the distance between them.

  “Game’s over, sweetheart,” he said, so close to her, his rod poked into her belly. She let out the sexiest moan, leaning into him, giving herself to him. Yes, the game was over…and they were both winners.

  He grabbed both her wrists above her head to pin her in place, and crushed his lips to hers, kissing her into submission. She matched his urgency stroke by stroke, nipping his upper lip, panting when he withdrew to gasp for air.

  “Yes.” She squirmed against him, nice and ready. “Oh, yes.”

  “Are you on the pill?” he asked before the fog of desire overpowered him completely.

  “Yes. Also, I’m clean.”

  “Good. Me too,” he said, desperate to unload inside her raw pussy without any barrier, just his jism and her naughty flesh.

  He let go of her wrists and slid one hand under her ass, helping her to spread her legs to fit him. Later, he’d have her in a languid, passionate way. Now savage need blurred his vision.

  Zaine positioned his cock between her thighs, and she arched toward him. “Easy.” He thrust his tip into her tight pussy, and she drew in some air.

  “You’re so big. God. Slap me with that cockzilla.”

  He nipped her jaw. “You’re kinky. You like it rough. Damn, woman, you’re perfect.”

  “It’s so good, but you’re filling me completely. I almost can’t breathe,” she said.

  He contemplated stopping, but the delicious smile forming on her lips hinted she’d be just fine. She enjoyed having him inside her.

  He kneaded her ass, adamant on relaxing her. Prepping her for the impending pounding. “You’ll get used to it, baby. Only a few more inches to go,” he said, thrusting deeper into her. Sweat broke on his forehead as he stretched her to the max.

  She moaned, clenching his rod with her muscles. “Mon Dieu, there’s more.”

  He nibbled on her lip, then released it with a pop. “Is that a problem?”

  “Quite the opposite. Not even my vibrator is this big,” she said, and sealed her compliment with a kiss on his cheek.

  “Good. I hate competition.” He slid out, then slammed back inside her in full force. If he had any morals he’d stop right now. Here he was, fucking this twentysomething hard and rutting her like the poor girl wasn’t used to. But, damn it, he couldn’t help himself. Her inner muscles clenched around him, her pussy so tight he wondered if she’d been fucked a lot in her life.

  She raked her nails on his shoulder. “Yes. Yes.”

  “God, you’re so tight. Your cunt is small and insanely hot,” he said, then slid down his finger to flick her clit. “Ah. There it is. Your clit is swollen and so ready. You want to come, don’t you? You want to fall apart even if that’s going to hurt your naughty kitty.” Because you’re a bad girl, he added inwardly.

  And that, he absolutely loved.

  …

  “Yes,” she said, repeating the only word that made sense to her.

  He plunged inside her, and she moaned. Loud, carefree, and begging for more. She scratched his shoulders, her nails biting into his skin. Zaine surpassed any expectations she had of him, and if her body survived this, she’d be thankful.

  He rammed into her, faster, deeper, while his thumb teased her clit without mercy. She called his name until her throat was dry and raw, and closed her eyes, overwhelmed, unable to process the wonderful sensations overpowering her mind and body. She clasped her legs around him tighter, never wanting to let go.

  She arched against him, whimpering, and only stopped moving when the waves subsided. He groaned and pulled out almost all the way then returned to her with one mighty thrust, filling her with his warm load.

  Monique opened her eyes. He dropped his forehead to hers, catching his breath. She touched his heart and appreciated the frantic pace. What’s next? Should she withdraw fr
om him and leave? She didn’t want to seem clingy by assuming she’d stay for the night. They hadn’t discussed the finer points of their arrangement.

  Thankfully, he moved and withdrew from her, but before she put her feet back on the floor he lifted her in his arms. “C’mon.”

  She giggled. “Where are we going?” she asked, but she knew the way to his bedroom all too well.

  “The shower,” he said.

  The irony of their already soaked bodies didn’t get lost on her. Beads of water still fell on his expensive wood floor as he moved, but he didn’t seem to care. He nuzzled his nose against her hair, his breath wafting over her, and a sense of pure bliss filled her.

  Just then, tingles of awareness and, yes, a pang of pain pulsed in her sex. She hadn’t had any sexual activity in a while, and Zaine’s size took some getting used to. Not that she’d mind trying it again.

  Zaine obviously had different plans. He turned on the multiple sprays of his walk-in shower, and soon hot water cascaded over her skin. When she’d cleaned his house, she’d always wondered how luxurious and sensual the experience of washing up would be in a bathroom bigger than her living room.

  Steam circled them, and he set her on her feet. She wobbled at first, then found her ground and reveled in showering next to him. Her nipples tightened, heat coiling low in her belly. He shot her a knowing grin, and she wished for a second her craving wasn’t so obvious.

  Without saying a word, he grabbed the bottle of shower gel and squeezed a generous amount in his palm. Soon, his large hand lathered her shoulders, his fingers spreading the liquid. He continued for minutes, caressing her, cupping her breasts and not neglecting any part of her.

  When he reached down her pussy, she expected him to finger her, to somehow take advantage of the situation to arouse her even more. She moaned. If he wanted to screw her again she’d be ready and willing.

  But no, he didn’t dip his finger into her cunt or work her clit like she’d hoped. He continued to wash her, quietly, though a glance down revealed his majestic erection. Maybe he had a plan, and she should just wait and see.