Page 239 of The Trouble With Bad Boys

She stirs as I run my finger down her neck and slowly pull back the comforter to unveil her body. Shit, she’s perfect. I allow myself long minutes to trace her flawless skin. I don’t deserve her.

Her eyelashes flutter against her cheeks and slowly open. “You’re back,” she whispers.

“I’m back,” I reply as I pull my shirt over my head.

Her eyes scan my torso. There are two scars from a knife fight and a nasty one from where a bullet grazed me two years ago. I work out, so I know my muscles look good. But what she says next surprises me.

Her hand comes out and she runs a single fingertip over a tattoo on my left side.

“What’s this mean?” she asks.

I unbuckle my belt and pull it from my pants. She swallows as the belt makes a cracking sound in the silence of the room. I smirk.

“It’s the owl of Athena. It stands for wisdom. My grandmother loved owls. I got it the day after she died,” I explain. I have many tattoos. Dragons, a griffin, some ancient characters, but she picked out one of the ones that is most personal to me. It’s like she can see inside my soul.

I drop my boxer briefs and pants, kicking them off alongside my socks and shoes. I stand before her naked allowing her eyes to take me in.

When her gaze reaches my cock, she swallows nervously. I smirk. I have my faults, but being well-endowed is not one of them.

Normally, I’d pull her to the edge of the bed, spit on her pussy and slam into her, but she’s not that type of woman. I want to take my time with her. I always like to make my women scream in ecstasy, but with her…I want something more. I crack my neck, feeling unnerved myself as I motion for her to scoot over while I climb into the bed.

She obliges and I get in beside her, reaching out to stroke her hair. “Are you OK?” I ask, searching her eyes.

She presses her lips together and nods. I pull her to me and cradle her head against my chest, pressing a kiss to the top of it. “I won’t let anything happen to you, Lena. I promise,” I soothe as I keep kissing the top of her head. I’m not sure if I’m doing this to calm her or me.

She pulls back and looks up at me, bringing her hand to my face where she cups my jaw. “I don’t know why, but I believe you,” she says earnestly as her gaze searches mine.

“Good. Now, I believe I was getting my dessert before we were so rudely interrupted,” I state as I roll her onto her back and settle myself between her thighs.

She blushes. “You had dessert. What about me?” she asks.

“We’ll have plenty of time for that later. I’m greedy, Lena,” I murmur as I run my tongue down her slit and push it inside her. Fuck, she tastes good. I start licking and sucking, taking what I want from her. Every woman is different, so I try different motions with my tongue and my fingers until I crack her code. It’s my little game, and this time, it took less than a minute to bring her to orgasm.

I lay a wet kiss on the inside of her thigh as I keep my fingers buried deep in her pussy, stretching her for my cock. Lena Hawkins might be the death of me, but what a way to go.

Eight

LENA

Rocco hovers over me and reaches into what looks like an antique vase on his side table. He pulls out a condom and rips open the foil packet.

This man has a fucking vase of condoms by his bedside? I’m in way over my head if this is the level of playboy I’m dealing with here.

He slides on the condom as if it’s something he does every day. I bite my lip nervously as I look at the girth of his erection. The math doesn’t math.

He leans down and runs his nose alongside mine. “It’ll fit, tesoruccia,” he whispers.

“Is that your professional opinion?” I ask as I stare down at where he hovers over my entrance.

He places a finger under my chin and my gaze meets his. “Relax, baby,” he coos as he runs the tip of his cock up and down my slick folds until he’s gliding back and forth. His lips trail kisses down my neck and his right hand massages my breast.

In about a minute, I’ve forgotten about my concern, and after two minutes, I’m not totally certain of my name.

“I need more,” I pant as I feel desperation overtaking me.

“Are you begging for my cock, sweet girl? Do you want me to slide into this wet, tight cunt?” he whispers. Damn, his dirty talk is making me lose my mind. I never thought I liked dirty talk, but I was fucking wrong.

“Yes!” I yell.

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