Dirty Sexy Saint (Dirty Sexy 1)

He took a moment to appreciate the sexy slope of her lush, full breasts and tight, suckable nipples—and the way her naked tits bounced every time he shoved back into her. She looked so fucking hot naked, and the whole visual aspect of their position made it all the more erotic.

It also sorely tested his self-control and made his hips instinctively rock faster and harder against her as his orgasm sizzled to the surface. At this rate, he knew he wasn’t going to last long, and he wanted her with him when he climaxed.

“Touch yourself,” he said gruffly, unable to move his hands from her hips. “I’m already so damn close. Make yourself come for me.”

She didn’t hesitate to put her fingers on her clit, another seductive visual that sent a surge of lust pulsing through him. Moaning softly, she circled and rubbed that taut nub of flesh, and his release beckoned like the devil.

“Come, Samantha,” he growled as he kept up the maddening pace of his thrusts while trying desperately to stave off the searing heat gathering low in his belly and weakening his resolve. “Now.”

Her eyes glazed over with desire yet remained steady on his face. “Not until you do first,” she said huskily, as those slender fingers continued to stroke over her slick flesh. “I want to watch you.”

An unbelievable gasp of laughter escaped him at her shameless challenge. She was fucking killing him, in the very best way, and if she wanted to see how wild she made him, then he wasn’t going to hold back, trusting that she wouldn’t be far behind him.

Breathing hard and clenching his jaw, Clay kept his eyes locked on hers as he pumped into her rhythmically, harder and faster, again and again, until the tight, red-hot friction clasping his cock was more than he could resist.

Come on, come on, come on, he silently chanted, no longer able to wait for her as his stomach muscles tensed and his release ripped through him. A harsh groan rumbled in his chest as he bucked uncontrollably against her, sensation after sensation battering him like a sledgehammer.

And just when he thought it couldn’t get any more mind-blowing, her body shook with her own orgasm, and her inner walls gripped him insanely tight, rippling and squeezing every last ounce of pleasure out of his cock until he had nothing left to give.

Chapter Eleven

The next two weeks became a regular routine of sex, desserts, and work. But mostly sex and desserts, Samantha thought with a grin as she arranged her just-finished French macarons on a plate. She’d spent every day baking something different, and she’d never been happier or more in her element. Without a doubt, she knew this was what she wanted to do with her life, and she was finally ready to take the next step to make this dream of hers happen.

Which also meant big changes between her and Clay. He just didn’t know it yet.

She’d managed to repay him for the clothes and toiletries she’d bought in her first days here, and had saved most of her tip money and weekly pay since. After a lot of deliberation, she’d also pawned the Chopard diamond watch and Mikimoto pearl necklace she’d worn the night she’d come into the bar, and sent the claim ticket to her mother with no return address on the envelope. At least that way her parents had the choice of retrieving the items if they wanted them back. They’d purchased the jewelry for no special reason other than that her mother could afford it and wanted to make sure Samantha only wore the best that well-known designers had to offer. There had been no sentimental value attached to either piece, something that saddened her but made them much easier to part with for cash.

The high-end jewelry had given her a few extra thousand dollars, which she’d used to open

a checking and savings account at a nearby bank. She’d purchased a cell phone in her own name, as well. She never again wanted to be in the helpless position of not having money of her own. She no longer wanted to depend on her parents for anything other than their love…something she wasn’t sure they’d be willing to provide without strings. And was that really love?

She shook her head, knowing she might have to accept that her parents weren’t capable of the honest, giving emotion. Something she’d deal with if and when the time came. For now, they’d left her alone, no doubt hoping she’d fail and come running back. Since that wouldn’t be happening, she couldn’t help but wonder what kind of reception she’d receive when she made the attempt to talk to either one of them again.

All she wanted was to be her own person and be able to make her own choices. To have the freedom to pursue the things that made her happy. To marry a man she fell in love with, instead of being pushed into a marriage that was expected for the sole purpose of keeping a business in the family. She wanted to live in a place she could afford instead of the monstrosity of a mansion her father had built and her mother had decorated, all to impress the other ridiculously wealthy housewives of River Forest, Chicago.

She was finished with the shallow life from which she’d come. And now that she had the beginnings of a decent-sized nest egg in the bank, it was time to find an apartment of her own. As much as she enjoyed living with Clay, she couldn’t rely on his kindness any longer than necessary, and she couldn’t stay with him forever. Even if that’s what her heart wanted.

She was well past falling in love with a man who’d made her no promises. In fact, he’d all but told her he didn’t do long-term, committed relationships. She’d known the deal going in, and while that hadn’t bothered her in the beginning, she was gradually coming to realize that she wanted so much more with him.

She also wanted to believe he felt the same. When his guard was down, usually during sex, she caught glimpses of tender, intimate emotions that gave her hope that maybe, possibly, he’d let her into the part of his life he’d closed off to everyone. His dark, troubled past still haunted him, and she wanted to be there for him now to get him past his demons and introduce him to the wonderful future they could share. But so far, he’d shut down any attempt that she made to bring up his childhood. Other than that one revelation about him as a kid looking longingly into the bakery shop window—which nearly broke her heart—he kept all those other secrets and memories on tight lockdown. She wondered if his brothers even knew the extent of his pain.

So for now, she took things one day at a time. And right now, it was all about delivering her latest tasty treat to Clay for him to sample, which was one of her favorite parts of the afternoon. He’d take a break from whatever work he was doing, and while he indulged in a few of her confections, they’d talk about inconsequential things and hang out for a while. No matter how much she desired a deeper conversation and connection, he was keeping her at a distance.

So today, it was time for her to talk to him about her plans for a job that would help her achieve her dreams, and the fact that it was time for her to find a new place to live. She couldn’t deny she was excited about reaching for her dreams, but she was equally nervous about how he’d react when she mentioned moving out. Her heart wanted him to rebel against the notion and ask her to stay, but her head warned her against getting her hopes up. This was Clay, the man who was still emotionally shut down, and in all likelihood he’d let her go as planned.

Her stomach churned with nerves as she picked up the plate of cookies and headed downstairs. So far, she hadn’t baked the same thing twice, and any leftovers she had, she put in the break room for the employees to try each night. The treats were usually gone within the hour, and everyone wanted more, which she took as a good sign for her future.

Usually, she found Clay in his office, but today he was behind the bar. There were a few racks of various glasses on the counter, and he was writing something down on a notepad. It amazed her how much time and work he put into Kincaid’s, but she supposed for him it was a labor of love. Sort of how she felt about the idea of becoming a pastry chef.

Hearing her approach, he glanced up at her and smiled. And yes, her heart literally fluttered in her chest. He was so damned hot and sexy, his T-shirt stretching across his broad chest and toned torso. She’d enjoy him better out of the shirt and naked, but for now, she behaved, knowing they had to talk first.

“What are you doing behind the bar?” she asked curiously as she set the plate on the counter.

“Doing a quick check and reorder on the glasses. I do it every few months since they break and I always want to be sure we’re well stocked.” Setting down his note pad and pen, he came around to her side and eyed the treats on the tray. “What do you have for me today?”

She settled onto a barstool and watched him pick up one of the pastries and look at it with interest. “This is a caramel fleur de sel French macaron.”

Clay rolled his eyes, which was what he did whenever she used what he considered a fancy name. “Layman’s term, please.”