Ryan took the opportunity to give me a quick kiss, one that left me wanting more.
“I told you my family would love you. Now we just have to worry about me meeting your dad. What if he hates me and shows up with a shotgun demanding I leave his daughter alone?”
I laughed and elbowed him in the stomach. “Oh, hush. My dad will surprise you,” I assured him. “He raised me to go with my gut and trust my instincts. The very fact that I feel so strongly about you will earn you his favor before he ever says a word to you.”
“Yeah?”
It was sweet that he was worried.
“Absolutely,” I murmured. “Trust me on this.”
He pulled me in close and hugged me. “That’s good since you might be growing a little version of us in there even as we speak. If you aren’t yet, you will be soon. I’ve got more than enough to keep you full of me for years to come.”
My nipples pebbled as I shivered. Why was that so hot?
“Mm,” he growled, “I love the way that turns you on. Just wait until I get you home.”
I smiled as I relaxed against him. We’d decided to spend the night at my house, followed by two nights at his. On the drive to dinner, Ryan had point blank asked what the terms of my lease were. When I told him I’d been living in my apartment for so many years that I was on a month-to-month lease, he lit up.
“You’ll be out of there in no time,” he said confidently.
8
Chapter Eight- Ryan
I woke up with a groan, my heart already racing. This was because my woman was bobbing up and down on my cock. My low sex drive was a thing of the past. It was quite clear all I’d ever needed was Julia. With her, I was perpetually hard and always ready to go. We’d been living together for two weeks, and each day was better than the one before. I loved everything about her.
My voice was raspy as I called out to her. “Sweetheart,” I murmured. “Your mouth feels so good.”
She responded by bringing her head up and sliding her tongue around my aching tip. Fuck, she knew how much I loved that.
Opening my eyes, I looked down to the perfection that was between my thighs. My already hard cock swelled even more at the barely visible sight of Julia’s naked body. It was still dark out, the only light in the room being from the reflection of the moon.
“Mm,” she moaned, as she took me in until the tip of my cock hit the back of her throat.
I fisted the sheets, arching my back as I growled her name.
“You’ve got me right on the edge,” I warned. “Judging by how wet my cock feels, I know you’ve been playing with me for a while.”
Her eyes were playful and she nodded, her mouth still crammed full of my dick.
“We don’t waste this cum, do we baby?”
Her eyes were full of heat as she shook her head.
“That’s right,” I rasped. “You don’t get to swallow until you’re pregnant. After that you can have all the cum you want—until it’s time for me to knock you up again.”
I’d figured out early that my woman loved dirty talk. The way she picked up speed on my cock told me she was turned on and ready.
“Climb up here and milk my big dick with your tight pussy,” I ordered.
She moaned as she popped off my dick and maneuvered her way above me. When she was in position she fisted my cock and held me in place as she slowly started to take it in. She went slow, one inch at a time. When her bottom finally touched down, I was half crazy. Her inner muscles clenched around me as she leaned forward and kissed me.
“Good morning,” she said sweetly.
I wrapped my arms around her back and held her to me tight as I rocked up into her.
“With you, it’s always a good morning,” I answered.
We took it slow, kissing passionately as we ran our hands all over each other. I’d never been a morning person before Julia—but once I had her, I greeted every day with a giant fucking smile. There was nothing I hadn’t changed for her, including my schedule. When I went back to work after our weeklong vacation – or, as we called it, our sex-a-thon—I started working at six in the morning until two in the afternoon. I also delegated a hell of a lot more. I didn’t care about money anymore, either. I had enough to support us and a busload full of children for the rest of our lives. The only thing I cared about working for anymore was Julia.
We continued rocking against each other slowly, until she made the little noise low in her throat that I knew meant she needed more. Flipping us over so that she was on the bottom, I told her to wrap her legs around my waist. Bracing myself over her, I picked up the pace. My eyes were glued to where we were joined as she slid her hand between us and began working her clit. Something about watching her fingers working while I pounded in and out of her tight pussy drove me nuts.
She tightened up around me, her legs locking up at my waist as she started chanting my name.
“Ryan… Ryan… Ryan,” she cried breathlessly. “I’m there!”
The second her little pussy seized up around me and I felt a surge of her wetness, I let go. I yelled her name as I filled her with cum, fucking into her hard as she met me thrust for thrust.
“Take it,” I rasped. “Take it all.”
When we were both spent, I collapsed onto her for a few seconds before carefully pulling out as I tried to leave as much cum inside of her as possible.
Looking over at the clock, I grinned. Four-thirty in the morning had never felt so damn good. I set my head on the pillow next to hers, and then took her hand in mine. Raising it to my lips, I kissed her wrist.
“I need to tell you something important,” I murmured.
Her head turned towards mine quickly.
“Is everything okay?”
I nodded, kissing her wrist again. “Everything is better than okay,” I assured her. “But I can’t wait one more second to tell you how much I love you.”
Her smile lit up her entire face. She gave my fingers a squeeze as she sighed happily. “I love you, too. So much.”
I leaned in and kissed her softly on the lips.
“There’s one more thing,” I continued when I pulled back.
Her brows went up. “There’s more?”
Letting go of her hand, I sat up and turned away. Yanking open my bedside drawer, I pulled out an instantly recognizable blue jewelry box and faced her again.
“There’s more,” I grinned. “Julia Kaye, will you marry me?”
She sat up fast, throwing herself into my arms as she cried.
“Yes, yes, yes!”
What a way to start the day, and our life together. Later on, we figured out we’d probably started something else that day as well.
Nine months later our daughter Luna was born.
Epilogue
Emmett’s eyes flew to mine when he opened his cake box.
“This is… wow, Aunt Julia. It’s perfect. I can’t believe you remembered.”
I smiled through my tears as I hugged him. “Of course I remembered your bots cake,” I teased.
It was hard to believe almost fifteen years had passed since the door to Sweet Like Candy opened, and I met the man who changed my life. None of that ever would’ve happened if Emmett hadn’t been so adamant about having a custom-made robot cake. I’d made him more than a dozen cakes throughout the years, but this one was extra special. It marked the beginning of a new journey for him. The following morning, he was leaving for college. It was only ninety minutes away, but to his parents, Ryan and I, it was massive.
“Oh Lordie,” my daughter Jessa laughed, “is Mom crying?”
I stepped back from Emmett and held my fingers a teeny bit apart. “Maybe just a little,” I admitted.
“Just a little like Daddy cried when Luna graduated middle school? Or like you cried when Rosalie announced she was pregnant?”
I sniffle-laughed as I shook my head. “Both,” I admitted.
The kids both kissed me on the cheek before Emmett turned and took his ro
bot cake into the kitchen. Jessa trailed along after him, bragging about how she’d helped me make the cake. I watched them go with a smile, loving how close everyone was.
Our families were so close and so intertwined. Ryan and I had four children: Luna, Jessa, Mason, and Kerri, while Jamie and Harrison had gone all the way with the Twilight theme. After Rosalie, Alice, Emmett, Jasper, Edward and Bella were born, she’d even gone back for one more, giving birth to Charlie. We joked that our kids were a gang, and we all loved it.
My body lit up when my husband came and wrapped his arms around me from behind. Relaxing into him, I sighed when he pushed my hair to the side and kissed my neck.
“What’s this I hear about my woman crying?” he asked.
I shook my head as I turned in his arms. Wrapping my arms around his waist, I smiled up at him.
“Happy tears,” I assured him.
“Yeah?”
I nodded. “I promise.”
“Good,” he said gruffly. “You know I hate seeing you sad.”
He did, too. There was nothing he wouldn’t do to make me happy, and I was the same with him. It was why our marriage worked the way it did.
“Kiss me,” I whispered.
He grinned as he leaned in and did just that.
Fifteen years and four children later, every part of me still lit up for him. It didn’t get any better than that.
Sin’s Temptation
Sin’s Temptation by Evie Harrison
Sweet Like Candy
Copyright 2016 by Ella Fox writing as Evie Harrison
Cover Design: Perfect Pear Creative Covers
Edited by Gemma Rowlands
“Even though this piece is about your business success, I’d be remiss if I didn’t ask you some personal questions.”
I was lucky the interview was being conducted over the phone and not face-to-face. It meant he didn’t see when I rolled my eyes.
“Fire away.”
“I can find no record of you having a steady girlfriend, at least not since you became a success.”
“That isn’t a question,” I said dryly.
“Oh! Well…” the reporter on the other end of the line spluttered for a few seconds, seemingly unable to think of how to frame his question.
I let him flounder. Cruel? Maybe. I didn’t care. I wasn’t about to help him. People were nosy as fuck, and I thought the question was completely unnecessary. The only reason anyone gave a damn about my relationship status was due to my wealth. If I were a custodian no one would have cared.
“What I’m trying to ask is, do you have a girlfriend?”
I couldn’t contain my snort. “No.”
“Is there a particular reason why?”
Again, I rolled my eyes. I loathed the way people felt they needed to dig in for answers to stupid questions.
“This is where you want me to say something along the lines of I haven’t met the right woman yet or something,” I snickered. “Go ahead and print that very thing if you want, but it isn’t the case with me. The truth is, I don’t do relationships because I think it would be shitty to let someone believe for even a second it might lead to marriage.”
I shuddered as I said it. The concept of marriage made me seriously uncomfortable. Agreeing to commit to one woman for the rest of my life?
I’d never met anyone I wanted to spend a month with, much less a lifetime. I knew with absolute certainty I’d be a shitty boyfriend and a poor husband. After all, I’d learned what I’d lived.
“You’re anti-marriage?” the reporter queried.
“Not for anyone who wants that life,” I answered. “It just isn’t for me personally.”
I’d seen the dark side of marriage, knew all too well what the fallout looked like.
“In your position, I wouldn’t want to settle down either,” he said enviously. “You’ve got it damn good.”
My lips quirked and I nodded to myself.
“Life is great,” I confirmed.
So great, I didn’t think it was even conceivable that it could be even better. No commitments, no entanglements, no children caught in the crossfire between raging parents.
I damn sure intended to keep it that way.
Jordan
I’m sure you’re wondering, so I’m going to get confirmation out of the way. Yes, it’s me, Jordan Sinclair, otherwise known as Mr. Sin. Chances are, you’ve had many an orgasm because of me. You’re welcome for those, by the way.
To be blunt, I was a cocky asshole.
I’ve changed.
That’s what love does when it reworks you from the inside out, filling in all your jagged places.
My career began with my line of thrusters—powerful sex machines controllable by phone or tablet that will fuck you until you’re mindless. I invented that little gem during the first semester of college. By the time I graduated, I’d made my first million. The sex business was always booming, and I’d charted a course to get my fair share. I succeeded beyond my wildest expectations.
Quite often I was questioned as to why I had chosen a sex toy business. My professional answer was that I’d seen a hole in the market and stepped in to fill the void. Pun intended.
The real answer was far more straightforward.
I. Loved. Pussy.
Pussy worship was an art. Touching, tasting, licking, devouring, fingering, and, my favorite of all, fucking, required skill – and I had it. Not much of a surprise, seeing as how I’d spent countless hours in a pussy-induced fog. It was my drug of choice.
I knew several married men who were lucky to have sex a few times a month, and I felt sorry for the poor bastards. Sex was used as a bargaining chip within their relationships and I thought it was depressing.
I couldn’t even fathom how I’d survive on that little sex. I lived to fuck. Often. I liked the variety of moving on and finding the next woman who would be taking my dick. It was never hard to find new people to twirl on my pole for two reasons.
1. My thick eight-inch cock
2. I was rich as fuck
Like most men, my dick was my compass. I let it lead me to a variety of women instead of one. No woman had or ever would have a hold on me. The idea of being with someone long-term was inconceivable to me. Marriage didn’t work, period.
That mindset went right out the window the day fate laughed as it lobbed the ultimate curveball at me.
My system was cranking Guns n’ Roses ‘Paradise City’ as I guided my black Range Rover into a parking spot at the rear of my store, Erotic Bent. It was a beautiful day and, all things considered, I’d rather have been working at my record store by the sea than at the sex shop, but digging through vinyl wasn’t on the agenda. Instead, I’d just driven for a bit less than two hours to get from Malibu to Riverside.
The online component of my business made up for more than half of my yearly earnings, but the stores were still important. I owned ten shops in Southern California, which meant sometimes I had no choice but to make those shitty drives. I wouldn’t have bothered if it weren’t necessary to be seen. I cared about all my stores, and I wanted my employees to know I was hands-on.
Still, I wasn’t excited about having to spend the day sitting with my accountant to go over financials for a yearly internal audit. The only saving grace was that if all went according to plan, it would be my only face-to-face interaction with him until he generated his report.
My chief bookkeeper could've handled it, but I liked to make sure everyone knew who was in charge from the get-go. People assumed it was easy being as successful as I was, since in a lot of ways my products sold themselves. They couldn’t have been more wrong. I’d never been one to sit on my laurels, and I didn’t see obscene wealth as an excuse to be lazy. As a thirty-four-year-old billionaire, I could’ve sold or delegated everything, but I hadn’t. I’d gotten to where I was with a lot of hard work, and I was proud of it.
After getting myself in the right frame of mind to look at numbers all day, I turned off the engine
and climbed out of the car. Closing the door behind me, I clicked my key fob to arm the system and then headed into the store. It was just after ten in the morning, which was a busy time. Most people figured sex stores saw the most action at night, but that wasn’t the case. The morning was when most people found it easiest to sneak off to buy their sex toys.
We did a brisk business with the unsatisfied suburban moms. They came in once the husband left for work and the kids were in school, looking for something to end the monotony of being ignored sexually by their man. They came in for plastic fantastic, and sometimes, if there were a connection, I’d give them the real thing. After it was over, I’d leave and never contact them again, which was just what we both wanted.
The narrative about women not wanting one night—or one afternoon—is dead wrong. It isn’t just men who know what they want. There’s no one more willing to have it be a one-time thing than someone who just wants to be touched. I aimed to please. Those women rode me like they were auditioning for the rodeo and sucked my dick like their last name was Hoover. I didn’t feel guilty, either. If their husbands didn’t want someone else to be giving their woman dick, they needed to get the fuck on it and do it themselves. There was no excuse for being a negligent asshole. I might have been anti-commitment, but I enjoyed women and took tremendous pleasure in making them happy.
When I entered the store, I stopped at the end of the dildo aisle, grinning when my eyes settled on an attractive woman tracing her finger over a package containing Big Barry. Barry was a ten-inch long, wrist thick cock that drove women wild. My attention stayed on her as she licked her lips, her fascination with Big Barry more than evident. It was as I started walking toward her that I saw my fork in the road.
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