by Nicole Snow
“Too slow. Now, you're losing those panties first, then everything except the heels.” I laugh and try to slap him away, but he's too determined.
He reaches up beneath my skirt and rips them down, spreading my legs. He doesn't bother getting my dress off before he shoves his face between my legs.
My fingernails reach for the smooth sheets and grab fistfuls. I pull them hard, tense, all I can do not to lose my mind as I'm sweating rivulets in my wedding dress, staining it with wild lust for this crazy, beautiful man.
Chris growls as he licks through my folds, tonguing my pussy before driving up to my clit. He draws it deep, holds it when I start to buck my hips, panting and calling his name.
Chris, Chris, Chris! His name becomes a curse and a prayer before I'm too blitzed for words at all.
His fingers stroke my pussy while he laps my bud with insistent, fiery licks, sending me crashing into ecstasy. The white of my wedding gown engulfs everything as I see stars, coming on his face for the first time as a married woman.
I glide down from the high, but it fades less than ever. He pulls me up and lifts me out of the dress, surprisingly gently, using his SEAL precision.
“Hands on the post, babe. Don't move 'em 'til I say so.” He takes my hands and wraps them around the big corner post, spreading my thighs. “I'll hose you off in the morning with the champagne chilling in that bucket, whenever we're too exhausted to fuck again.”
Oh, God. With the edge in his voice, it sounds like it's going to be days, and my pussy pulses. He doesn't even need a belt or a rope this time – his words are enough to keep me bound where he wants me.
I'm still marveling at it when I feel his hands on my ass. He pushes into me with a firm, powerful thrust, grunting when he his cock drives deep into my unprotected depths.
My sex drive is off the charts since we went natural. I don't know if I've been off the stuff long enough to truly get pregnant, but I'm certainly going to try.
And with the way he's fucking me, so is he. He plows into me, stretching me open, shaking my entire body with a passion that's ten times more intense than every other time he's been inside me.
I'm thrown onto the precipice in a matter of minutes. He's drilling me, fucking me, owning me like the ring on my finger gives him permission to ravage me on demand, any way he wants.
Of course, it does, and I love it.
I'm screaming from the tension building between my legs when I start to come. Everything below my waist turns into a hot, twisted, sticky mess. My body explodes an instant, gushing on the sheets.
“Fucking shit, is finding out you're a squirter part of tonight too?” he growls, grabbing at my hair. “Doesn't matter, babe. Here it comes. I love you so goddamned much.”
It's the last thing he can say before his sounds become one long, drawn out growl. I feel his cock stab into me and stop, rooted, swelling in my pulsing silk. He's come inside me dozens of times before, but never like this.
When I feel his ropes shoot into me, it's somehow hotter, wilder, rich and mysterious with the stuff of life. My pussy convulses all over again, taking everything he has to offer, fusing with him until we're throbbing and groaning as one.
I'm his furnace that moment, and he's the fuel.
He's given me his energy, his life, and he's turned me into something marvelous. Now I'm going to take his love, his seed, and give him our entire future.
When the firestorm finally releases us, we lay tangled together, his huge inked body cocooning me. His cock feels good against my ass half-hard. I know it won't be long before he's ready again, and this is a perfect place to lift my leg and start while his hand covers my breast, flicking my nipple as we kiss.
“You're the hottest woman on the planet when you're wrapped around my cock,” he says, stamping his lips over my neck. “The new recruits are fucked. I'd tell 'em to find a good woman to push them through the bullshit overseas, but I've got myself the best. Nobody compares to you, sis.”
I turn my head, smiling into his bright green eyes. He hasn't called me that for awhile. It shouldn't be this exciting – especially when it's not even true anymore.
“We're not stepsiblings anymore, Chris. You shouldn't keep pretending.”
“Yeah, thank fuck. Pretending? Babe, I don't give a shit who or what the fuck you are. You're my woman, my bride, my property, my cement in this perfect family we're about to make. Is it so wrong I love you like a sister, a soul mate, and a whore all in one?”
His filthy words should shock me, but instead I just smile. The passion rolling out of his mouth still scares me sometimes in the best ways.
He's crazy, he's wonderful, and he's a badass. He's everything I'll ever want and all I'll ever need.
When I'm finally ready to answer him, I reach down and wrap my fingers around the length hardening against me, pulsing with new need that won't be satisfied until I'm his vessel again.
“I don't think anything with you will ever be wrong,” I say, gently stroking up and down, waiting for him to push my hand away and spread my legs. “I love you so much, husband. SEAL. Stepbrother.”
He grins, tangling his fingers through my hair, and pushing me onto my back. I watch as he moves between my legs, holding his cock at my entrance, full and teasing.
“Good. Let's use some of that love to find out who we'll be when we're complete.” He lowers his face to my ear, nipping at my earlobe before he speaks more. “Don't think I'll ever stop fucking you through the nursery rhymes and family holidays. I'll never get enough of your body, your taste, or the way you make my heart boom like a damned rocket.”
I run my hands over the angry dragon that's been re-inked since his scars healed, and the trident that reminds me every day I'm safe forever with this man.
He's right. I can feel his heartbeat. I let my palms linger there, pushing into his hard muscle as he sinks inside me, claiming me again.
We're both getting better with words, but there's still so much only our bodies can say. And right now, his talks loud and clear, telling me he'll love me forever.
Chris isn't just my stepbrother or a cocky SEAL I've fallen madly in love with. He's everything that makes me smile, want, and love.
He's my entire life. Unsealed, a little unhinged, and glorious.
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Kisses,
Nicole Snow
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SEXY SAMPLES: BABY FEVER PROMISE
I: Hello, Again (Robin)
Every girl knows about reckless men.
Reckless in the best ways, when they pick you up like a glass paperweight and hold you high, tilting fate just right until you're glowing in the light of their kiss.
Reckless because they always let you fall.
Always, I said. No exceptions.
Sometimes they let go, gently watching as you drift down like a feather after they've had their fun. Other times, they hurl you down as hard as a stone skipping over water, shattering everything you thought you were into a hundred vicious smithereens when you hit their world at full breakneck speed.
Reckless with hearts. Reckless with life. Reckless in the good, the bad, the ugly, and the oh-so-irresistible. Reckless because they'll never, ever be tamed.
I fell for a reckless man once.
He was my first, and deep down, I think I knew he'd be my last. He put me through hell, and he still hasn't left my side.
He taught me there's not much difference between the words reckless and forever.
“Seven percent, Robbi, just like we agreed. Frankly, I think it's a crime my cut for making you the happiest little bird on earth is so low. Drinks are on you tonight.”
Little bird. I hate when she uses that nickname because I instantly recall where I've heard it before.
Of course, she doesn't mean anything by it. She doesn't mean it like him.
Words shouldn't bother me. I'm used to Bebe Silk's antics after working with her the past six months. But nothing could've prepared me for today, when she's sitting across from me, more smug than a Cheshire cat.
I reach for the thick stack of papers she's pushed in front of me. The Berkland Studios logo gleams forest green in the header, brighter than emerald. My hands are shaking.
“Holy shit. I can't believe this.”
“Believe, doll. The world's about to know you as the hottest little starlet since...well, since anything, if Mr. Pierce Rogan has anything to say about it. The film simply can't fail in his capable hands. That man could make a mouse swoon after a cat on the silver screen. This is the big break we've been waiting for.” Like I don't know it. Her grin gets wider, and she clasps her hands, leaning over the desk while she beams. “Congratulations, Allison Evers.”
“Allison Evers,” I repeat the name, wondering how many times it'll take before it doesn't feel strange on my lips.
It's almost as incredible as hearing a legend like Pierce Rogan is directing the film. He's made classics, works of art, and entire careers. Bebe isn't exaggerating this time, as she's often prone to do – Pierce's talent means people will be talking about Allison Evers and the woman who played her when I'm in my wheelchair.
I can't believe it's happening, but it is. The miracle I've been hoping for ever since I clawed my way up the Hollywood heights has officially arrived.
It's the sexiest, strangest kind of hocus pocus a plucky young actress could ask for. I'm playing the female lead in Bare.
Hundreds of millions – hell, maybe billions – of women worldwide are going to fill the seats for earth's biggest erotic thriller. The book only sold enough copies to rival the Bible, after all, and fan legions will line up to see how well the movie edition jives with their imaginations.
Bebe wags her finger, several thick rings on her hand jostling underneath the dull office light. “Initial in the corner of every page, please. All fifty. There's a line for a proper signature on the last one, and one for me as your very talented agent.”
I run my finger down the first page, tracing legalese I can't possibly comprehend in this excitement. Bebe laughs, slaps my hand away, and guides the pen in my fingers down to the corner.
“Let's move this along, Robbi. I promised the studio I'd have it sent back by closing time. Don't you worry about the fine print, I've proofed it all myself this morning. Ran it by the lawyer I work with. No nasty surprises. Just a whole lot of fortune and fame, exactly the way mama likes.”
For a second, I hesitate. My saner side says I should take my time, read through every last sentence, make sure I'm not being trapped or cheated in a lead role bigger than anything I've had before.
But if it wasn't for the shark in the red blouse and jacket across from me, I wouldn't have it at all. Someone else would be playing Allison Evers, and it would be their bare ass taking a paddling on the screen instead of mine for stardom.
Oh, God. The whole world is really going to see my ass, isn't it?
I swallow, promising I'll make peace with the sex scenes later, and start initialing.
I knew what I was getting into when I auditioned for the part. No one who hasn't been stuck in a cave has any illusions about Bare by Isabella Frieze.
They know about the sex, the scandal, the dirty, kinky things that are probably going to break all kinds of world records by showing up in a mainstream film for the very first time. They know how sheltered Ali loses her virginity and half her soul to the most powerful man in Chicago, how he breaks her, and how she surrenders everything by the end.
They know about Frieze's fanatics. Millions of adoring readers who made her book a global hit, and at least one ocean of money for her and her publishers to swim in.
They also know they're not really there to see a virgin go through losing it on her way to baby fever, or to stroke Ms. Frieze's enormous ego.
The real star is Miles Black, the tortured, broody enigma. Cold, domineering, completely covered in tattoos. I can't remember whether I melted or burst our laughing the first time I read the scene where he grabs her chin, presses his forehead to hers, and stares into her eyes for ten minutes like an obsessed maniac.
Okay, so I'm not the target demographic for sexy romance. But it still made me wet when I read the sex, rolling the paragraphs over in my mind where the billionaire finally claimed his prey, and took her night after night, flinging her body against his as they fucked like the earth itself had to be repopulated.
I'm thinking about how I had to close the book and reach for my nearest vibrator when another question grabs me.
“So, who's playing Miles? Have you heard?” I'm halfway through the papers, slurring my initials with the pen. I bite my cheek, expecting Bebe to tell me I'll be working with a household name sculpted like a Greek God.
That adds a whole new layer of anxiety, of course, but I don't care if I have to work with Zeus himself. I'm not screwing this up for anything.
“Oh, wait till you see him!” she chirps, spinning in her chair, reaching for the folder behind her. “He's a name I don't recognize. New to a major lead, but I guess the studio chose him for other qualities. Like you, he's only had a few supporting roles. He's hot, of course, and I saw his social media has quite a presence. I expect that's why the studio decided to take a gamble on another newcomer. Ah, here he is!”
She pulls out a photo, and pushes it over to me. It's a tall, dark, and very handsome looking young man in a leather jacket. Something about the glint in his eye causes my stomach to fold in on itself. It isn't until I hold the photo up, catching the full brilliance of his trademark blue eyes, that my heart comes to a screeching halt.
No. No fucking way.
“Jesus!” My fingers slip while I sputter a one word prayer. The picture drops from my hands and slides down to Bebe's desk.
She snatches it up with a frown on her face, giving me a concerned look. “What's this? Hey, are you okay, Robbi? Don't tell me you've worked with him before?”
If only work was all it had been.
If
only my nightmare, my heartbreak, my reckless and stupid first crush weren't staring at me from a glossy printout, wearing the same icy blue eyes and soul destroying smirk as the day I last saw him.
“Robin!” Bebe pats my hand like she's tenderizing a piece of meat. “Do you need some water? Maybe a little fresh air?”
“It's nothing. I'm fine.” Falser words were never spoken. I'm sure all the blood has left my face. I contort my lips, forcing a smile. “Sorry. It's just the excitement, that's all. I really can't believe I'm sitting here, signing a contract to play Allison freakin' Evers.”
“Believe, doll! You've earned it.” Relieved, she reaches under her desk, and comes up smiling with a water bottle. “Take a few swigs. I insist. Can't have you collapsing before I've gotten the contract out the door.”
I obey, taking a few precious extra seconds to chug the water. I'm not sure whether they're a relief or pure torture, amplifying the claustrophobic feel of the world closing in around me.
I'm putting the ink on my greatest success. I should have known these kinds of wins always come with hellish challenges.
I try to turn my eyes away from the photo I've pushed back toward my agent. Look anywhere. Anywhere except him, damn it.
Just get through this.
Easier said than done. I think I'll manage to finish signing my contract today without letting Lucus Shaw ruin me for a second time.
But when it comes time to actually film with him, to pretend we're professionals? When I'm supposed to act infatuated, in love, and totally not bothered by him shoving my wrists into handcuffs while he whispers how he's going to 'fuck the baby fever straight out of me?' No exaggerating, that's one of Ms. Frieze's most memorable lines from the book.