Page 51 of Tempting

Fucking me harder.

Faster.

Forcing me to take it all, and God, I want it all.

Bringing me so close, I can taste my orgasm, then pulling back until it’s just out of reach.

“Nix . . .” I cry. “I need . . .” I can’t think. Can’t speak.

Words fail me. Coherent thought fails me.

“Tell me, Mac. Tell me what you need,” this beautiful man demands, and in his eyes... I can see myself through his eyes, and I like what I see. I look confident and sexy. Unafraid to take what I want and ask for more.

A strangled cry rips from my lips as he runs his hands over my breast and cups it in his palm. He pinches my nipple, and I feel it all the way down to the very center of my core.

“Yes...” I pant as my legs give out, and I drop my forehead down to the mattress.

I push my hips back, meeting him thrust for thrust before lights spark behind my eyes.

Nix soothes one hand over my ass and spanks me again.

A scream tears from my lips as lightning explodes behind my eyes. Violent flashes of color sizzle as I convulse around him, utterly destroyed.

Nix pulls out on a guttural roar, rips the condom off and strokes himself to an orgasm. Hot ropes of pearly cum cover my back before he collapses next to me and drags his finger through his orgasm.

“Open” he demands, and I open my lips in time for him to stuff two fingers inside my mouth. “Suck them clean, Mac.”

Holy. Fucking. Hell.

Should this be hot?

Because . . . my God . . . so hot.

And as he rubs the rest of his cum all over my back, I can’t stop thinking about how much I like it before he gets up. My eyes drift close until he comes back with a warm, wet washcloth and drops a kiss on my lips. “You passed with flying colors, Mac.”

The last coherent thought I have is, I guess maybe I wasn’t broken after all.

I was just waiting for Nixon Sinclair to come along and ruin me for all other men.

KENZIE

Behind every strong woman is a story that left her with two options.

Sink or fucking swim.

Floating through life isn’t an option.

—Kenzie’s Secret Thoughts

Abuzzing pulls me from my sleep, followed by a husky voice. “Mac...”

I bury my face in my pillow, not ready for my dream to be over yet. My dreams never seem this... live action. I can feel Nixon’s weight on me, and it feels divine. I don’t want it to disappear, so I struggle to hang on to the last threads of sleep.

The buzzing won’t stop.

“Baby, I think your phone is ringing.”

Baby . . . ? What the?—

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