Rough Ride: A Small Town Bad Boy Romance

“Good girl,” I whisper out loud. “Now, hold on.”

I position myself at her entrance and push, hard, burying myself to the hilt within her. Izzy’s mouth opens, and I can feel every inch of her constricting in response. She stays quiet save for the faintest, “Oohh,” that falls from her lips.

She feels even better than I remember, if that’s possible. I thrust into her, watching in fascination as her eyes squint each time I dive in, and her breath lets go each time I pull back. She’s so tight, so wet...so fucking perfect.

“Jesus,” I huff, raising one hand against the wall above her head to steady myself, the other still gripping her hip firmly, guiding her to me. Izzy meets each thrust of my hips with a roll of her own, and I quicken my pace.

She’s mine. The words tumble around in my head on a continuous loop as I pound into her, one deep thrust after another. She’s fucking mine. And right now, she is. I own her, every creamy, sweat-glistened inch of her. I fill her completely, unfazed by the rhythmic knocking sound as I slam her back against the wall, or the sinful, muffled whimpers falling from her lips with the pleasure and pain of it all.

I lean forward, using my nose to push her shirt out of the way again, finding her breast with my mouth and sucking hard on her nipple.

“Oh!”

I pull my head back, not once breaking the rhythm as my hips crash against hers.

My eyes are locked on hers. “I told you...not to talk.” I can barely speak with the exertion of my movements, but she knows she’s made a grave mistake.

I don’t hold back, fucking Izzy harder and faster, a relentless, rhythmic bid for release. Hers and my own.

Izzy’s bottom lip is secured between her teeth, each sound she makes trapped on her tongue. But her eyes are widening. She can feel my cock twitching within her, my body reaching its breaking point. The tight clenching of her muscles and the biting sting of her fingernails, even through my t-shirt, tells me everything I need to know.

“Izzy.” The command in my voice is clear. Her eyes are fluttering and heavy-lidded as she meets my intense gaze again. “Izzy, come with me, baby.”

A few more powerful thrusts and both Isabelle and I crash together like a relentless storm, thunder and lightning scorching us from the inside out, our hearts pounding so hard and so fast I can feel hers against my own chest. “Fuck, Izzy, I love you.” The words tumble from my lips, against her ear in a fevered sigh as I slow my movements, planting soft kisses against the damp skin just below her ear.

Chapter Three

Isabelle

I’m still breathing hard, trying to calm myself. The color in my cheeks burns, and not just from the inferno Jace has ignited inside me.

He lowers me down onto my feet, refusing to let go until I’m steady enough to stand on my own. I’m shaky and fatigued, but fuck, by the looks of it, that makes two of us.

“Izzy, you—”

“Don’t.” The word comes out harsh, and it should. Because I mean it. The weight of what I’ve just done, with Jace, is collapsing the walls around me, and I suddenly feel trapped and claustrophobic.

I hate Jace Andrews. And I’ve spent three years building up that hate so that I could blast it at him the first opportune moment I got.

Yet, within half an hour of seeing his sultry gaze and muscled physique barely contained under his t-shirt, he’s got me half naked, pinned up against my employer’s bathroom wall, and he’s buried so deep inside me I can’t tell where he ends and I begin.

Jesus Christ, what’s gotten into me?

“Don’t what?” He looks confused as he pulls his jeans back up, buckling his belt. “You’ve missed me, too, Izzy.”

I scramble for my clothes, feeling more exposed and vulnerable than I’ve ever felt in my life. “Don’t,” I repeat, doing up my jeans. “Don’t call me Izzy.” I turn to glare at him, my eyes still burning, but no longer with only desire. Anger smolders there, too. Anger at him, but also at myself.

“C’mon, Izzy—” He reaches out to touch my face as I pull my shirt and bra back in place, but I bat him away.

“I said don’t!” I hiss, fighting for the wherewithal to keep my voice down. “Don’t call me that! Don’t touch me! And don’t say...that!” I can’t even bring myself to repeat what he whispered to me only moments before.

Damn him!

Jace has his hands up in the air now, feigning surrender. “Isabelle,” he says evenly, enunciating each syllable. “We need to talk about—”

“We need to do nothing.” My tone is clipped. I can barely look him in the eye, smoothing my hair out. “This was a mistake. It never should’ve happened.”

“I beg to differ.”