Southern Gentleman (Charleston Heat 3)

I straighten, tearing open the foil packet.

“Get on your knees,” I grunt, rolling the condom on. “But keep your head down.”

She does as I tell her, ass up, head down, face turned to the side so I can just make out her features. Hair everywhere, pink lips swollen to a bright shade of red.

She’s watching me, eyes bright with arousal and curiosity.

Scooting toward her, I nudge her legs wider with my knee. Ducking down, I sink my teeth into her ass cheek. Her muscles there tense.

“You’re good,” she says before I can ask. I cup her ass in my hands, kneading her cheeks before I use my thumbs to part them.

I love seeing her. All of her. Pussy, asshole.

She’s trusting me with all this.

Pulling her ass cheek a little wider to spread the lips of her cunt open, I guide myself inside her. Sensation in my balls spiking as I sink into her tight heat.

“Fuck, you feel good,” I groan.

“Grey,” she pants. Pleads.

Wrapping my hand around the back of her neck, I pull my hips back. Roll them forward. Do it again. Harder this time, our bodies slapping when they meet.

She cries out with delight.

I reach around and play with her clit while I thrust deep. She’s crying out again, her pussy just barely fluttering. I feel sparks at the base of my spine. I grit my teeth. I’ve always managed to get her off first. Not about to break that tradition.

I may be a villain, but I’m not a selfish bastard.

“How bad do you want?” I repeat, rolling the pads of my middle finger right where she needs it.

“Bad,” she breathes.

I thrust into her at the same time I gently pluck her clit between my thumb and forefinger. I’m sweating with the effort to hold back. She’s so wet. So soft. Clearly turned on by this side of me.

A tremor moves through her legs.

She’s close.

Perfect.

I swipe my thumb across her clit one last time. Get it nice and wet.

And then I pull back.

“What the fuck?” she cries.

“You asked for bad,” I say, drawing my thumb across her ass cheek. “So that’s what you’re gonna get.”

I dip my thumb between her crack. Just above her pucker. I tug at her ass cheek, spreading her some more.

Carefully, I press the pad of my thumb to her asshole. Still pumping into her.

Her pussy contracts forcefully, once.

“Grey,” she’s saying. “My God, yes.”

“Bad enough?”

“More.”

I press a little harder. “Play with yourself, baby. It’ll make the bad real good.”

I play with her asshole and fuck her from behind while she reaches down and plays with her pussy.

I have to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from coming.

She starts to moan. Legs trembling, cunt fluttering. Hips rolling against me, seeking more.

My heart swells. She doesn’t just like this.

She fucking loves it. She’s playing along. Letting me in.

Showing me just how much she likes my dark side.

She comes and I come, a burst of light and feeling. I dig my fingers into her sides, holding her tight. She reaches back and grabs me by the wrist. Holding on for dear life as she clenches around me. Crying out my name.

I love it when she says my name.

I fall to my side and pull her down with me, curling her into my body so that we’re face to face. She’s shaking. Smiling.

“You’re so beautiful,” I murmur, kissing her lips.

“See?” she pants, brushing my hair out of my eyes. “Like you said—the bad is good.”

“You mean that?”

“So fucking good. Dirty doesn’t equal bad.”

“Well, yeah. But it is a little taboo.”

“Clearly I don’t mind, Grey.”

I grin. “Clearly, Jules.”

She grins. “You’ve never called me that before.”

“You like it?”

“I love it when you say my name. Any version of it.”

I grin, too. “I noticed.”

I kiss her. Keep kissing until we’re making out like teenagers, right down to the dry humping.

We make out until the dry humping turns to real humping.

When we’re done, we stay up talking. I get the answers to the questions I had before.

Where she comes from—born in Atlanta, moved to Charleston when she was a teenager.

Where was she in that picture of her with her dad at Hogwarts? She got a graduate degree at Cambridge.

The travel—she mostly travels with colleagues, but would love to travel with me. Maybe on a babymoon somewhere.

What about historical romance does she find so comforting?

She loves the reminder that no matter how difficult life can get, or how hopeless your story can feel, we all deserve our own happily ever after. And that sometimes, the more difficult the story, the happier the ending.

Underwear—does she wear it with those yoga pants? Or does she go commando?

Commando, always.

That alone has me rolling on top of her for one more round.* * *JuliaI wake up in Greyson’s bed.

This time he’s in it with me. Sleepily scrolling through his phone, running a hand over his face.