Dirty Bad Boys Box Set: Forbidden Romance Collection

I motion my hips, rocking back and forth, watching him struggle as sweat beads fo

rm on his forehead. Wesley’s eyes are shut tight, and his face is clenching as he tries to control himself.

I love watching him, seeing what I’m doing to him, watching the veins in his neck pop out while he drives into me slow and steady, in and out, a pattern that starts a tide of tingles to spread across my entire body until I beg him through moans to enter me harder.

He growls at my pleas, pounding me harder, the heat stifling between us until I begin to dissolve on the spot, riding the wave of pleasure that consumes me and makes my vision blurred.

I’m oblivious that he grips onto my ass tightly, slamming hard one more time before he lets out a groan, pulsating and twitching while burying his head into my neck.

Our heavy breathing echoes in the still of the night.

He withdraws from me. My legs are shaking uncontrollably and relying on him for support. I hold onto his shoulder as he removes the rubber and looks around, unsure of how to discard it.

“Here, give it to me.”

He laughs. “Really? What exactly do you plan to do with it?”

“Uh… toss it into my purse so as not to traumatize the kids who come through here tomorrow.” I take it off him, grabbing some tissues in my purse and wrapping them around it before placing it inside. “Wait, what do you think I’m going to do with it?”

“Hey, I don’t know. You could play the innocent card but be as kinky as fuck.”

“True. Wait till you see what I can do with some ping pong balls and a banana,” I joke. “Round two… your place?”

He leans in to kiss me, unable to hide his grin. “I thought you’d never ask.”

Chapter Seventeen

My eyes open in a state of panic with my body following moments later.

Sunlight peeps through the drapes, forcing me to squint, which only makes my head pound harder. Lifting my arm to shield myself from the God-awful sunlight, I yelp as my muscles ache, making it barely possible to do so.

“Why are you up?”

The voice—unfamiliar at first—registers when his hand runs down my back, then around my front, cupping my breast. They’re sore. Everything is painful.

Scattered around are several empty packets of rubbers.

Shit. How many times did we have sex last night?

Wesley yanks me toward him, and as I fall back onto the bed, my head knocks into his hard chest.

“What time is it?”

“Time for me to fuck you,” he teases, turning me around, so we’re spooning.

He doesn’t warn me, entering me whole. I gasp, in pain, again, and thankfully, he moves slow, breathing on my skin which causes me to shiver with delight.

I extend my arm, reaching back and around his head, exposing my chest. His body tenses, followed by a few quick breaths, until he begins to thrust into me again.

“You’re insatiable,” I cry, moaning straight after. “I have to go… I’ll be late for work.”

“You’ll go… when I’m finished.” Refusing to listen, he seizes my breast with his hand, tugging on my nipple with force. “And… I’m not finished.”

“Wesley,” I moan, consciously looking at the time and knowing I only have two hours until I have to meet Emerson at the studio. Also, factoring in that I still have to rush home, shower, and change.

He makes it impossible for me to think about anything else but him, touching every part of me that aches from last night. I know he’s close. Hell, I’m close, and just when I think he will come inside me, and the panic of him not wearing a condom is a cold, harsh reality, he pulls himself out and kneels beside me.

In the daylight, I see all of him—extremely fit torso with tattoos inked across his breastbone. I want to ask him about them, discover the meaning behind the design. But now isn’t the moment, not when the obvious is pointing right at me.